Stefanie London - Dirty Devil / The Fling

And then there were no more buttons and he was shrugging off the shirt, leaving him in only the suit trousers that sat low on his lean hips.

Light from the city outside painted his skin, drawing attention to the chiselled lines of his pecs and abs, and the Japanese-style tattoo that covered his chest, left shoulder and crawled down his left arm. Against a background of ornate fish scales in beautifully shaded blacks and greys, a brilliantly coloured dragon coiled amongst delicate flowers. The piece was as glorious as he was.

He dropped a hand to the waistband of his trousers, flicking open the button and then easing down the zip. Then he was shoving the fabric down along with his boxers, getting rid of them so he was finally, gloriously naked.

I shivered, my gaze falling to his lean hips and powerful thighs, to the proud jut of his long, thick cock.

He was so very beautiful I couldn’t stand it.

Desperate to touch, I moved to the end of the bed, kneeling upright on the mattress, reaching out to brush my fingertips over his chest, feeling the hardness of his muscles and the burning heat of his skin. He didn’t move, letting me explore, letting me brush one of his nipples with my fingertip.

Him being naked while I was dressed should have made me feel more in control, but it didn’t. His nakedness only highlighted his raw sexuality, sheer physical strength and power and the mega-watt burn of his charisma. And how much all those things made me his slave.

‘Don’t think I’m going to forget that you didn’t answer me properly.’ His voice was a low purr as I stroked him with a shaking finger, liquid honey and black velvet all rolled into one. ‘Which means you have two choices. One, you let me take charge. Two, you have to ask me for everything you want.’

I didn’t want to have to ask him. I didn’t want to have to give anything away. Which left me with only one choice.

‘The...first one,’ I murmured, tracing the head of the dragon over his pec, not wanting to look at him.

But he pressed my palm flat to his chest while his other hand slid along my jaw, his fingers in my hair as he tugged my head back until I met his tarnished-silver gaze.

‘Say it,’ he ordered softly. ‘I want the words so we both know what’s happening here.’

I swallowed. ‘I want you to be in charge.’

The expression on his beautiful face didn’t change. ‘You know what that means, don’t you? That you’re going to have to trust me.’

Something inside me yawned wide. Trust? Seriously? How could I do that? The only person I’d ever trusted in my life was Mr Chen and he was dead.

But he must have seen my uncertainty, because he added, ‘Just with your body and your pleasure. That’s all.’

Oh. Well. That I could do. He’d given me so much pleasure already, it was an easy choice to make. ‘Yes, I trust you,’ I said thickly.

‘Okay, then.’ The tension around his beautiful mouth eased and one corner of it curled wickedly. ‘Time for you to get naked.’

He released me and reached for my uniform before I could move, pulling it up and over my head, leaving me kneeling on the mattress in nothing but my underwear. Then he slid one hand behind me and flicked open the catch of my bra in an easy, practised movement. I caught my breath as the fabric fell away, and then again as he crouched in front of me, his hands going to my hips to ease my knickers off. The fabric slid down and I moved so he could pull it off me, and then he stepped back, leaving me naked on the bed.

For a second neither of us moved and I could hear my own accelerated breathing, loud and fast. His gaze ran over me, the heat climbing, becoming molten.

Then he got onto the bed with all the lithe grace of a panther, picking me up as if I weighed nothing and taking me back down onto the mattress, pinning me beneath him, his body hot as a furnace.

Shivering, I wrapped my legs around his waist, arching into him, desperate to get close. I’d forgotten about the necklace, about my client, about Mr Chen. About staying unnoticed and unseen. About keeping him from asking questions I didn’t want to answer.

All that was important was the contact of his body against mine and how, the more he touched me, the less like a ghost I felt. As if he was drawing me into the world and making me a part of it.

Perhaps I should have found that scary, but I didn’t. Right now, right here, I craved it.

He kissed me, lightly at first, teasing and seductive, biting and nipping, before deepening the kiss, his tongue delving into my mouth as his body pressed me down onto the cool sheets.

He’d taken control completely, and I didn’t care as I slid my hands down his back, glorying in the steel beneath his skin, the lithe power of his body and all that leashed, coiled strength.

God, he was so hot.

I tightened my legs around him, rubbing up against the hard ridge that pressed between my thighs, feeling the metal of the ring in his cock scrape deliciously over my sensitive skin. I groaned at the sensation while he gave a low, breathless laugh. ‘Greedy girl,’ he murmured against my neck. ‘Stop that.’

‘Why?’ I tried to do it again, but he held me down.

‘Because if you don’t stop rubbing that gorgeous pussy all over me this’ll be over before we even get started.’ He gripped me then rolled us both over, so he was lying on his back and I was on top of him. Then he pushed himself up the bed until he was leaning against the headboard, long and muscular, bronze skin and coloured ink. A big, powerful sexy man, tattooed and gorgeous.

I leaned forward, my palms on his hot chest, tilting my hips against the steel bar of his cock pressed between us. ‘Come on,’ I ordered, unable to contain my frustration. ‘I want you.’

His smile ignited something demanding deep inside me. ‘I love that you’re so into me, Sugar. But I’m in charge remember? And right now, I just want to look at you.’

‘What? Again?’

He laughed and a flush of pleasure rose the length of my body, making my growing frustration even worse. ‘Yes, again.’

It was weird, feeling this impatient, given patience was one of the things I’d learned early on in my line of work. Watching and waiting was part of a successful mission.

Yet I didn’t want to watch and wait now. I wanted him to get on with it.

‘Please,’ I murmured, brushing my lips against his.

‘Patience.’ Keeping one hand on my hip, he leaned over to the bedside table, rummaging around in it. Drawing out a handful of small colourful packets, he straightened up and held them out in his palm. ‘Pick a colour.’

They were condoms. Obviously.

My hand shook as I picked out a blue one at random and he dumped the rest on the bed beside us. Then he made me sit down across his thighs as he lay back, ripping open the packet and taking out the condom.

I watched, fascinated, as he deftly rolled the latex over his cock and the piercing, and my half-formed fears of it somehow tearing the condom died a death. He knew what he was doing; of course he did.

Once that was done, he stared at me and this time he didn’t smile. His eyes were molten and there was a tightness to his jaw.

Something gathered in the air between us, a tense, burning thing.

‘Ready?’ Threads of darkness ran through his beautiful voice, quicksilver glinting in his gaze.

‘Yes,’ I said aloud, my voice so thick, it didn’t even sound like mine.

He urged me close, gripping his cock in one hand, and then he was nudging the entrance to my body. I shivered, my breath catching. His face was inches from mine, the look in his eyes shockingly intense.

I trembled, my body tensing despite my best intentions, waiting for the thrust. But it didn’t come. Instead, he rubbed the head of his dick through the folds of my sex, a gentle sliding sensation that made me gasp. I could feel the metal of the ring pressing lightly against my clit, the hardness of it striking sparks of intense pleasure along every nerve-ending I had.