‘You’re never going to have another night like this so no more coy games and no more lies tonight, understood?’
She nods silently.
‘Are you wet?’
‘Yes.’
‘How wet?’
‘Dripping,’ she says hoarsely.
I smile faintly. ‘Will you do anything I ask tonight?’
‘Yes. Anything.’
Three
Tasha Evanoff
Wet
He steps away from me suddenly and I feel as if someone just replaced my kneecaps with Rowntree jelly sweets. He walks to his desk, leans his slim hips against the edge and crosses his arms over his chest.
Under the overhead light his black hair glints, but his eyes are shadowy and hooded, impossible to tell the expression in them, but I feel their sultry gaze unhurriedly travel over my body. Raw, feral animal magnetism rolls out of him in waves that hit me and bring a rush of heat to my belly. I become as vulnerable and exposed as if I am naked.
‘Take your panties off.’ His voice is pleasant, but throbs with heat.
My breath speeds. Surely he doesn’t mean for us to do it here. Maybe he imagines he can degrade me as if I was some sort of prostitute he has hired for the night just because I offered my body. I won’t have it. My spine straightens.
‘Are we going to … um … do it here?’
‘No.’
‘Then why?’
He remains motionless. ‘Because I want you to.’
No one has ever spoken to me with such fearless disrespect, uncaring if they might hurt my father’s feelings. A thrill of excitement goes through me. The air crackles with sexual tension as I slowly, deliberately, slip my hands under the hem of my dress and drag my underwear down my legs. I let them fall to the ground and step out of them.
‘Bring them to me,’ he barks.
I bend down, pick up the lacy scrap, and dangling them on one finger walk up to him. He puts his hand out, the palm outstretched and I drop the lace into it.
He smiles, his eyes smooth like wet marble, the skin at the outer corners crinkling. He blinks—he has eyelashes a girl would kill for—and my breath catches in my throat. I feel as if he’s cast a magic spell on me. I can hardly think. The air seems thick and every breath I suck in is difficult and noisy.
The intoxication is so complete I don’t see what he does with my underwear. One moment he is holding it and the next his empty hand is touching my lip. The skin on his thumb is rough.
‘Tasha Evanoff,’ he breathes softly.
My lips part.
His hand gently releases my clips. ‘You won’t need any of these where we are going.’ The clips fall noiselessly to the carpet.
He tunnels his hand into my hair, fists it at my nape, and pulls so the curve of my throat is exposed to him. My belly tightens with the look of pure lust that comes into his eyes. He pulls me toward him with a fierceness that startles me. I fall onto his hard body and stare mesmerized up into the scorching depths of his black eyes. Feverish excitement races through me. Between my legs I glow and pulse. Lord, I’ve never wanted a man like this.
‘Fuck, there is not enough of the night left for what I want to do to you,’ he says suddenly, and in one smooth movement straightens, pulling me upright with him.
He phones someone called Viktor and tells him to pick him up at the backdoor. Then we go out through the back of his nightclub, my body stiff with tension. Sometimes his hand arrives on the small of my back to guide me in the right direction. He puts out a big hand and pushes open the double doors of the kitchen. Every man in that kitchen gapes at the sight of Noah and me. I guess he doesn’t make a habit of going out through the back with his women. Outside it is chilly and I shiver.
‘Cold?’ he asks, looking down at me
‘A little.’
A car is waiting, and the driver, presumably Viktor, is standing beside the open back door. His eyes widen slightly at the sight of me before he blanks them of all expression. I wonder if he has recognized me, but it is extremely unlikely. My father keeps me well out of his world. I thank him and get in while Noah walks around to the other side and slides in beside me.
‘Turn the heating up,’ he tells the driver.
‘Thank you,’ I whisper.
He turns to look at me, his strong cheekbones catching the light from the streetlamps and the look in his eyes makes me lick my lips.
Four
Noah Abramovich
Wicked Game
My eyes drop to her plump lower lip, to the way it glistens enticingly in the darkness. It fucks me up some. I tell myself, stay cool, but excitement is like an electric current in my blood, zipping through my veins. Fuck, I have never known such blind urgency.