Moira Rogers: That Old Black Magic

Max shouldered past her, wrenching the door out of her hand. He stalked into the room before spinning to pin her with a glare. “So. You made a fool of me, huh? Did you get off on that as much as you got off on me?”

“Excuse me?” She couldn’t begin to wrap her head around his bizarre logic. “You’re the one who picked my pocket and left me handcuffed to a sink. I’m not the asshole here.”

He turned again and prowled deeper into the hotel room. “Whatever. Where the fuck is it? The actual charm. The inhibition one? I assume you have it somewhere.”

Polly gaped at him, then crossed her arms over her chest. “Fuck you. You can’t have it.”

“I am done playing, little girl. That thing is seriously fucking dangerous, and it needs to be destroyed. The woman who made it did it in a weak moment, and she wants to fix the mistake. And I am damn well going to see it done.”

Ice settled in the pit of her stomach. “Good luck with that.” Polly crossed the room and yanked open a dresser drawer. She untied the knotted belt of her robe and dropped the terrycloth to the floor. “Better get ready for some serious travel, though. Benton sold it last week. I tracked the funds to a shell corporation in Malaysia, but the damn thing could be anywhere. Now get the fuck out.”

He spun around again, and his eyes widened when his gaze settled on her naked form. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then snapped it shut again. His hands curled into fists as he drew in a breath. “Shit. You play dirty. Guess I earned it, though.”

Polly leveled her stoniest glare on Max as she pulled on a pair of panties and snatched a camisole from the drawer. “Go on and take the lead. I’ll stay out of it. The money’s not worth having to run into you again.”

He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “So if you weren’t high on magic, why’d you fuck me?”

She didn’t know what was more horrifying—having to admit she’d taken one look at him and wanted to get her hands on him, or the fact that he’d chalked the entire thing up to magical interference. Pretty much a damn toss-up.

She put on the camisole and flashed him a defiant look. “I wanted to. But I’m over it, trust me.”

“Over it?” Another step, and he crowded into her personal space. “That’s a shame. The thought that you’d double-crossed me turned me the fuck on.”

The admission drew a startled laugh from her, and she shook her head. “Jesus Christ.” A sharp inhalation filled her nose with his scent, and she bit her lip. She couldn’t be this damn attracted to a crazy man. “That’s messed up, Max. Professional help might be in order.”

“Because I’m attracted to smart women?” A quick shift to the left and he had her caged, cornered against the dresser. “What can I say? I love a challenge.”

Polly exhaled and reached up, curling her fingers into the front of his shirt. “I told you the truth. Now it’s your turn. What do you want ?”

His hand came up and his fingers traced across the bruise he’d left on her neck. “You. Begging for it while I make you come.”

Even that bare, tiny touch elicited a shiver, and her nipples hardened instantly. She could keep wondering, analyzing, trying to figure out how and why Max commanded her body so easily.

Or I could just enjoy it, and see if it goes both ways.

“I won’t beg.” She smiled slowly, then reached down and hooked her fingers under his belt, drawing him closer. “I mean, you can try to make me...but I’m not going to be as easy as I was down in Louisiana.”

“Like I said...” He bent his head and dragged his tongue over the mark left by his teeth. “I love a challenge.”

She lifted her leg and rubbed it along the outside of his, the scratchy denim of his jeans rough against her inner thigh. His shirt yielded to her hands as she tugged it free and touched the bare skin of his stomach. “This time, you have to take this off.”

He tugged the shirt over his head in an impressive flex of muscles, revealing a hard chest that was every bit as sexy as she’d imagined. Polly moaned, torn between excitement and dismay. “ Why do you have to be so fucking hot ?”

Without waiting for his answer, she stroked his chest and touched her tongue to his skin. “I should kick you out,” she whispered, then licked his nipple. “I shouldn’t reward your terrible behavior with mind-blowing sex.”

“You would have done the same thing,” he retorted as he slid his fingers into her hair. “You’re just mad I did it first.”

“That’s what you think.” She unbuckled his belt, keeping her movements easy and unhurried. “If you’d just asked, I could have told you the damn thing wasn’t there. Then we could have gone somewhere and had more orgasms.”

“Better late than never.” He curled her hair around his hand and tugged her head back. “You broke my God damned brain, woman.”

She swayed closer and brushed her breasts against his chest, the contact stealing her breath even though a thin layer of cotton separated them. “So break mine,” she urged. “Kiss me. Touch me. Make me come.”

Max released her hair and reached down to cup her ass. He lifted her with a laugh, dropped her on the dresser and wedged his body between her legs. “This was so not part of my plan for the day. Why do you have to be so hot?”

“Not part of your plan?” Polly licked his neck and blew softly across his skin. “You’re a liar.” She teased him with a quick press of her teeth before biting him, hard.

He groaned and fisted his hands in her camisole. The fabric gave way with a tear, and he lowered his head and bit the swell of her breast. Polly clutched his shoulders and arched up toward his mouth.

His impatience stoked her ardor, which flared from a smolder to a roar, licking along her nerve endings. She locked her legs around his hips and cried out when his cock ground against her, hot even through their clothes.

Please. She opened her mouth, then sank her teeth into her lip. “I said I wasn’t going to beg, didn’t I?”

“Might have.” His tongue curled around her nipple before he sucked it between his lips with an approving rumble. He worked a hand between their bodies and rubbed his thumb against her clit with another soft growl.

The sensations, both simultaneous and sudden, nearly brought her off the dresser. He turned her on, fast and hard, and with a skill that overwhelmed her.

“Wait—” She pushed him back a little and fumbled with the dresser drawer. Metal clinked as she pulled out his handcuffs. “Remember these?” she asked him, then nodded at the bed.

He lifted his head and raised an eyebrow. “You want me to handcuff you to the bed?”

“Uh-uh, baby.” A low laugh rasped out of her, and she kissed his jaw. “You owe me.” He owed her big time, and she was ready to collect.

If he tried really hard, Max could probably come up with an idea stupider than letting Polly Cassidy handcuff him to her bed. None came to mind, granted, but that could be due to the fact that most of his blood had migrated south the moment he’d gotten an eyeful of her naked body.

Of course, telling her no might put an end to the imminent hot sex, and he wasn’t in a hurry to do that. Not when his cock ached and the smell of her desire had driven him so close to the edge already. And they’re just handcuffs. I can break them if I need to.

He took a step back and reached down to unbutton his pants. “If that’s how you want to play it...you’re on, sweetheart.”

Polly smiled and hopped down from the dresser. She let the tattered camisole fall down her arms and flutter to the floor as she walked slowly toward the bed, his handcuffs dangling from one finger. “You know I’m going to tease you mercilessly, right? You’re going to be half crazy by the time I’m done with you.”