“More ice princess,” he accused.
Her brows dipped at the accusation, her hand moving swiftly, issuing punishment as it tightly wrapped around his cock. “Does this feel like ice?” she demanded, exploring his length and teasing the head, spreading the drop of dampness there around the smooth tip.
A low sound of pleasure slid from his parted lips, but he still managed a rebuttal. “You’re coldhearted, darlin’, and we both know it. Otherwise you’d let me touch you.”
She pushed to her toes, her fingers still working his cock, her lips lingering a breath from his. “Making you pay for your bad behavior doesn’t make me cold. Giving me the control simply makes you feel vulnerable, and you don’t like it.”
“I don’t feel vulnerable at all,” he replied quickly, a glib edge to his voice. “Perhaps it’s you who does. Perhaps that’s why you’re afraid to let me touch you.”
Nicole jerked back to glare at him, his words striking an unexpectedly raw nerve that she didn’t like one bit. He quirked a brow as if he knew he were right, his expression a silent taunt. Her desire to wipe that sexy, smart-ass look off his too-handsome face sent her to her knees. She’d show him control.
She settled back on her heels, her fingers wrapping around the base of Constantine’s erection. Bringing the soft tip of his cock near her mouth so that her breath teased, her chin tipped upward, her eyes found his. “Who has the control?”
His lips were thin, his body tense with anticipation. “You do, cariña,” he said gently, his voice hoarse. “I never said otherwise.”
Not directly, but he’d inferred his own control. She lapped at his erection and then denied him further satisfaction. “Yes.” The first word held a bite; the rest were an explanation for her actions. “You did.”
“If you didn’t have control,” he spoke through clenched teeth, “I would have my hands in your hair right now, pushing your mouth back to my cock. But be warned.” He paused, obviously to let the meaning of his words sink in. “If you tease me too much, I might take more than control.”
His words both infuriated and scintillated. He was impossible, this man. Most men would beg at this point. He ordered, demanded, threatened to take her. And despite his attitude and his resistance to her command, he made her hot. She could feel her thighs trembling, her sex aching. Damn, the man. He would not win. He would beg before this was over.
Nicole ran her tongue down his length, licking him with long, teasing caresses, watching him watch her, aroused by the hunger in his gaze. She worked him with her tongue, stroking over and over, doing everything but taking him fully into her mouth. Still, Constantine used restraint; he didn’t touch her, didn’t ask for what she knew he wanted…what she wanted—for her to take all of him.
Eventually, she gave in to her own desire and drew him into her mouth, pleased when she heard his intake of breath. And while she wanted to see the desire in his features, she found herself absorbed in tasting him. Her lashes settled on her cheeks as she began to suckle him deeply, intent on the pleasure of giving pleasure. Her nipples ached, her clit throbbed. She wanted him to touch her. Still, he did not. His ability to refrain irritated her.
Fully determined to push him over the edge, she took him deeper into her mouth, her tongue stroking the underside of his shaft. Nicole’s hand pumped even as her mouth slid back and forth. His hips began to work against her hand. She palmed his ass, using it to anchor her body as he thrust harder, faster. She could taste the salty proof of how near release he was. So close. Satisfaction filled her, driving her to push him further into his pleasure zone. She slid her fingers along the crevice of his ass, exploring all she could, everywhere she could.
Success came to Nicole when Constantine’s hands slid into her hair, as if he feared she would stop working him, stop tasting him. She didn’t push his hands away as she might have minutes before. She wanted him to come. Wanted to know she’d taken this powerful male over the edge. She suckled him completely. He was hers now, lost to passion, lost to what she’d taken from him—control. Oh, how she loved it. She’d won the minute he’d touched her head, the minute he’d begun to cling to release.
But just when she thought she’d won, Constantine surprised her, totally taking her off guard. In a movement both fast and hard, he pulled himself free of her. Before she knew it, he’d bent down and picked her up as if she weighed nothing. She either had to let her legs dangle or wrap them around his body, which is what she did. His hands tangled in her half-dry hair, his lips claiming hers, his tongue blasting her with wild fire, stealing her objections with its bittersweet perfection. Everything in her world seemed to melt into that moment, into Constantine’s kiss, his body.