The wicked gleam that flared in his eyes had her thoughts emptying.
“Mmm, my favorite kind.” He rocked forward, his eyes closing as his fingers dug into her hips, and he buried himself deep. His body shuddered along with hers, the remnants of her orgasm still sending aftershocks through her. “Oh, fuck, yes. You’re so hot around me. I can feel your pussy trying to milk my cock.”
She bit her lip, the dirty talk an unfamiliar experience but not an unwelcome one. To hear such a seemingly sophisticated man talk so coarsely did something to her, made her feel like she was seeing the primal version behind the curtain. “You have a filthy mouth, Van.”
“And you fucking love it,” he said, leaning down and licking the sticky orange juice at the corner of her mouth, as he thrust into her again. “You blush, but your eyes go hot. You’re not craving polite.”
She gasped as he angled just right inside her. “I don’t know what I crave.”
“Yes, you do.” He rocked into her harder and with more speed. “You said it yourself. You want to use and be used. Come again for me, baby. Use my cock. Let me feel you break apart beneath me.”
He braced one hand next to her head and tucked the other between them, stroking her clit with every thrust of his hips. Her lids fluttered shut as the tide of sensation built to a breaking point.
“Eyes on me, gorgeous. I want you to see who’s fucking you. And I want to watch you go under.”
She forced her gaze upward, the intensity of his stare burning through her. His dark blond hair had fallen forward and the twinkle lights sparkled above him, a fierce lion with a gilded mane. Then he smiled. And she lost it. The cry that roared up her vocal cords would’ve been loud enough to be heard at the restaurant downstairs, but he levered down and kissed her, capturing the desperate sound before it escaped. She poured everything she had into that kiss as her body went molten around him.
He pressed his palm against her bound wrists, pinning her to the table and pumping into her hard enough to rattle the bowls behind her. Her orgasm rolled through her in powerful, crushing waves and he tore away from the kiss, his groan of pleasure raking over her senses as he sunk deep and spilled inside her.
“Fuck, baby,” he said, letting his forehead meet hers, his chest rising and falling with panted breaths. “So much for the slow and easy evening I had imagined. I promise I at least planned to feed you first.”
She laughed beneath him, overcome with some weird combination of euphoria and the bizarreness of the whole situation. Here she was lying naked on a restaurant table with a perfect stranger slathered in olive oil and orange juice and drifting down from the best orgasm of her life. Who was this woman?
He chuckled along with her and reached up to untie her hands. “We’re a mess.”
“But my skin is now exceptionally moisturized, and I smell amazing,” she said, grinning.
“Indeed it is.” He pressed an openmouthed kiss to her sticky neck and inhaled. “And yes, you do. Citrus and sex, let’s bottle that.”
Her stomach flipped at the words. Citrus and sex were what her kitchen had smelled like after she’d found Doug. She’d thought she’d never be able to smell orange juice again without thinking of that horrible day. But Van had rewired her associations in a few mind-blowing moments. Now she wanted to roll around in that scent. “We’ll make millions.”
“No doubt.” Van gave her another quick kiss then eased out of her. He turned to discreetly strip off the condom and zipped up before looking back in her direction. “Remind me next time to not take no for an answer on bringing you back to my place. At least there I’d have a shower and towels to offer you.”
She rolled her wrists and then pushed up on her elbows, offering him a smile, but knowing there would be no next time. That’d been their agreement, her one condition. Tonight could only be an escape. A fantasy.
She couldn’t handle any more than that.
Especially with a guy who could make her feel like this. One who could make her feel this wanted and sexy, this . . . special. She knew she was definitely not the latter for him. Van was way too smooth and confident—a seducer. She doubted his bed was ever cold.
He was a playboy.
He was a temptation she couldn’t afford.
FOUR
Kade Vandergriff smiled when he heard soft snores coming from his left. Oh, how quickly a shitty day had morphed into an amazing evening. When he’d headed out tonight for location visits, all his frustration from a completely useless session with his attorney about their seemingly winless case had come along with him. It probably would’ve been wise to go home afterward to let himself settle down. But he hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of pacing the halls of his big, empty house for the night. The silence and space would’ve made him crazy.
So he’d driven into Dallas to visit his restaurants, hoping to channel all the crap from the day into a productive evening. But after only a few hours into his drop-in visits, his frustration hadn’t gone away but had instead morphed into nebulous, growing anger. By the time he’d arrived at Barcelona and discovered three of their most popular dishes had been eighty-sixed because of the manager’s oversight, Kade had been on the verge of a Gordon Ramsay moment.
But then Contessa had walked into the restaurant, chatting with her friend and looking like she wanted to be anywhere but there. Kade had stopped midsentence in his lecture to his manager and had forgotten why he was so damn pissed. He’d left his manager without another word and followed Contessa into the dating event, having no idea why he felt so compelled to follow her or what he was going to do once he got to her. But when her name hadn’t been on the list, he’d jumped at the opportunity to step in. A few minutes into their time upstairs, she’d made him forget every crappy thing that had happened that day. He’d gotten lost in the moment, lost in her.
He glanced over at his dozing companion. Contessa had curled up on one of the sofas in the bar to wait while he picked up the last of the food and dishes they’d used on their rooftop “un-date,” but exhaustion had apparently gotten the better of her. Or maybe it was the six-course meal, the three glasses of sangria, and the two bouts of amazing sex. Even he was feeling weary on his feet, and staying up until three A.M. was not a rare occurrence with his schedule.
Not for the first time, he wished they were back at his place where he could strip her down and tuck her into his bed for the night. Wake her up with his tongue between her thighs because damn the woman was sexy when she came. It was like each time it happened, she was surprised, like she didn’t think herself capable of that passionate of a response. And for some reason, she thought she wouldn’t like kink yet had responded to his commands with beautiful capitulation. Which, of course, only made him want to find out just how out of her mind he could drive her. They’d only scratched the surface tonight.
But he had a feeling he wasn’t going to get another chance. She’d laid it all out up front, refreshing but brutal in her honesty. She’d wanted an escape tonight. She’d wanted to use him for that, and he’d been happy to oblige. Hell, the one-night fantasy had become his specialty lately. Not that he was complaining. He’d enjoyed playing the third in a few scenes with his friends’ submissives at The Ranch, the private BDSM resort he belonged to. And he’d had his fair share of casual encounters over the past few years with kinky women, as well as vanilla ones. Fun nights. Exciting flings. Wild adventures.
But in the end, the result was always the same. After the initial rush, he lost interest. Since his divorce, even women who’d been open to considering moving the relationship to a more intense level—the level he desperately craved—he couldn’t seem to muster up the desire. Too often, it felt like those women were simply agreeing to his flavor of kink because of all the fringe benefits. He’d been down that road. Nothing like finding out the girlfriend you’re tying up and flogging actually hates pain and all things kink and is only taking it because she wants you to buy her that Coach purse or bring her on that trip to Maui.