The top loosened, spread apart, and with a flick of his fingers the cups covering her breasts were released. Her breasts spilled free, nipples hard and pointed, flushed red and aching for his touch.
“You’re here.” It was a statement and a moan as his head lowered and his lips covered a tight, sensitive nipple.
He wasn’t easy on her, and she didn’t want easy. His teeth gripped and tugged, his tongue lashed with wicked wet heat. Her eyeballs were going to roll back in her head it was so damned good. He sucked on her like a starving man.
Long moments later his head lifted, thick dark blond lashes fanning his cheeks as he stared down at his handiwork.
Her nipple was tighter, if that was possible, gleaming wet and ruby red.
“You wore too many clothes,” he growled, his voice, which was rough on a good day, grating now.
“I didn’t want to appear too easy,” she gasped as his lips moved to the opposite breast and began their less than tender ministrations.
God, this was what she had loved about the first and only time he had touched her. He didn’t treat her like spun glass. He didn’t touch her like she would break. He touched her like a woman well able to satisfy the dark, hungry sex drive she knew he possessed. That he possessed and she craved to experience.
“Not easy enough.” He nipped the side of her breast, his free hand moving to her hip, tugging at the laces on her pants now as his lips moved back to hers.
Oh God, the taste of his kiss. It was incredible. It was enough to steam her eyeballs, not to mention what it was probably doing to the glass balcony doors across the room.
She stretched beneath him, arched closer, rubbed against the erection seated firmly against her pussy and wished she could purr. It felt that damned good. So good, she wondered if she could come from his kiss alone.
Hell, she had never done that, but this was close. This was edging closer. His tongue curled along hers, stroked it, then teased her by licking at her lips. Then he bit her.
Kira jerked her head back, glaring at him before she returned the favor by nipping at his lower lip. His hand tightened in her hair, jerked her back, and his lips slammed over hers.
He released her wrists, wrapped his arms around her, and began thrusting between her thighs, stroking the silk of her panties and the leather of her pants against her, rubbing against her clit and causing little snarls to echo in her throat.
Damn him, he was burning her alive.
Her hands buried themselves in his hair, pulled at it. Her knees lifted and bent, clasping his hips as she dug the sharp heels of her boots into the bed and tried to defy the layers of material between them.
She wanted him, bad. She wanted his cock pounding into her. Wanted him fucking her, filling her, stealing her senses and her much lauded control with the lusts that blazed between them.
This was no place for those lusts. The middle of an investigation, in the eye of a storm that threatened to close in on Ian like the narrowing spout of a cyclone. And yet, just as before, the wild hunger flared through her, rocked her, seared her senses. Opened something inside herself that she didn’t recognize. A core of femininity. A certainty that the rabbit hole the woman hid within had been discovered. The agent she had become could no longer hide the woman desperate to reveal herself.
She was immersed in thick, white-hot sensation and flowing with damp, desperate need. And when his hand slid into the loosened edge of her pants, his hips pulled back, and his fingers found the bare flesh of her saturated sex, Kira knew she was doomed.
She froze, but Ian didn’t have any such inclinations. His fingers found the narrow, sensitized slit, slid through it, and two fingers speared into the snug, slick entrance of her vagina.
“Oh God!” She tore her lips from his, the words bursting from her lips as she felt the muscles surrounding his fingers spasm, felt her juices spurt around them.
“Damn you, you’re hot!” He bit her neck, just like a damned freaking vampire. Just bit right into it and sent her eyes rolling back in her head again as a shudder tore through her.
Her hips jerked, working her sex on his fingers as she felt the explosion just a breath away. Just a frickin’ breath. It was so close she could feel it, taste it, smell it.
“Oh, it’s not that easy,” he snarled, his fingers stilling inside her, just filling her, holding her on the edge of a precipice that was painful.
“Would be,” she panted. “If you wouldn’t be such a jackass!” She just wanted to come. It wasn’t like she wanted national secrets or something. Hell, she already had those.
His smile was tight, hard. His hair, mussed from her fingers, fell around his dark tanned face, his lips swollen from her kisses.
He looked like the dominant male he was. A sexually dominant, fierce and forceful, take-all-control kinda guy. He wasn’t going to let a lover control her sexuality or his. That was his prerogative, and by God if he didn’t know how to do it. Not exactly her normal taste, but he had become a craving.
“What are you doing here, Kira?” He stroked her, inside, just the sweetest, most delicious rubbing of her internal muscles with the tips of his fingers.
Shiverlicious. She shivered and gasped and grew wetter, it was just that damned good.
“Business. Working.” She tried to breathe. Hell, breathing was overrated anyway. If she held her breath, just held it, she could almost fall off the edge from those rasping little strokes inside her pussy.
“Working huh?” He bent and ran his tongue over a stiff nipple. “You do remember how I punish liars, don’t you?”
Was that really her moaning like she wanted to be punished? Oh hell no, couldn’t be. She didn’t play those games, and she wasn’t into any kind of submission. Until it came to Ian. Her butt clenched, she couldn’t help it. And she knew he felt it. She knew she felt his knowing chuckle against her nipple.
“Bite me,” she groaned. She didn’t order or snap. Nope, she groaned, like a helpless whimpering little submissive begging for her master’s touch.
“Where?” His teeth rasped over her nipple.
“That works.”
He bit her. Not too hard. Just enough. He closed his teeth on her nipple just enough for her to feel the pleasure/pain.
Sweet Holy Mother . . . She arched, bearing down on the fingers filling her, and thought for certain she would go off like fireworks from that alone.
God help her, she needed to orgasm.
“Might as well answer me.” He blew another breath over the tight, tormented peak. “What are you up to, Trouble?”