East Bound by Nana Malone (best value ebook reader .txt) 📗

at my shirt, my suit jacket, the tie, up to my hair, yanking. Every tug sent an electrical charge through my body, and I shook from the violence of it.

She wore this sexy cashmere gray sweater dress with tights. Damn thing came to her knees. And she was wearing those insane fuck-me boots that matched her dress color. They looked like some kind of soft gray suede.

I backed her up against the rail and the wall, and she clamped onto me. Then I dragged my lips from hers and chased them along her jaw. I muttered, "Now's the time to stop me, princess. If you don't say the word, I'm shagging you in this lift."

I held my breath, waiting for her to say no. When I pulled back to meet her gaze, I saw anger, fire, electric heat. She lifted her chin and glowered at me, and I gave her a cheeky grin. "Turn around," I growled, my blood thick with need. My brain overruled by my dick, closely followed by my heart.

"Fuck you."

My grin flashed again. "Oh, you're about to."

I spun her around before dragging both her hands over her head and clasping them in one of mine. Then I dragged up the skirt of her dress. "Hands here. Don't move them."

Her tight arse wiggled against my cock. "If you think I'm—"

With my free hand, I turned her head roughly and planted my lips over hers again before she could say anything else. I pulled my lips back. I muttered, "Shut up. You're ruining this. Isn't that what you said to me?"

"Fuck you."

"I see, you're repeating yourself."

The next several seconds were a blur of hands and teeth and the taste of her on my tongue, and I couldn't think.

Me, the thinker, the one concerned with safety and protocol, and yet I couldn't rub two brain cells together to stop this madness. She was doing this to me. This was her fault.

Oh yeah, it's her fault you don't have any bloody control.

It was her goddamn fault. Nonetheless, she held her hands on the wall like I’d told her to. Like a good girl.

Except she wasn't a good girl.

It was that thought, that memory, that betrayal that hovered just below my conscious thinking, that had me fisting the skirt of her dress, and I glanced down and nearly choked. Her tights were stockings, held in place by a gossamer yet hardworking garter belt.

"You're wearing this on purpose aren't you? To taunt me."

"I—I didn't even know I was going to see you. How could I—"

I nipped her ear with my teeth and treated her clit to a quick tap through the silk of her knickers.

She gasped and jerked her head to the side, presumably to tell me what for, but my lips were waiting for her. My tongue danced with hers even as my hand went to my buckle. I couldn't hear her voice, because if I heard it, I would believe. I would hear her lies and think they were real. And I couldn't. I just couldn't. I slid my thigh between both of hers, and kicked her stance wider. Her sharp inhale made me growl. "Wider, love."

"I'm not your love. Get this over with."

I chuckled softly as I dropped my trousers and boxers. "Ah, so we're pretending you don't like this?"

I was hard. Like a steel rod.

Could you die from a hard cock? Actual death from something being too good? At that point, I was willing to wager it could happen.

I didn't even take time to drag down her knickers. Instead I just slid my finger under that red thong that teased me, and I shoved it aside.

Without preamble, I lined myself up against her slick center, and I groaned. Her pussy was dripping. I bent my legs to get a better angle. "Why are you so wet?"

"Because I was thinking about my new boyfriend, not you."

With a muttered, “I hate you too, love,” I sank home hard in one fluid thrust.

Electricity danced over my skin, and my vision went bleary. Holy Fuuuuck. I was lost.

Retreat. Slide. Retreat. Slide. She felt better than anything I could ever remember. Just the idea of her with someone else set my teeth on edge.

"You’re a liar."

Her voice was breathy when she whispered, “And you’re the devil.”

Our movements were a torrent of thrusts and slapping flesh and whimpers and moans. With each thrust, her slick wetness clung to me like a silken sheath.

All it took was one quivering flutter from her pussy and just like that, my fingers intertwined with hers, my teeth were on her shoulder, and I broke my own oath to myself.

The oath I’d made to never feel anything for her again. That I was never going to touch her again. It was then that I realized my word meant nothing, because I was absolutely going to touch her again. I was absolutely going to break this oath again and again and again until I was nothing.

It didn't take long before she started to quiver around me, and I lost whatever hold I had on my sanity. In my own ears all I heard was the rush of my blood, her pants, the low murmurs of my name, and my grunting. And when she started to break apart, her little breathy moans and cries, the tightening of her hands on mine, I sank home deep one more time and was lost forever.

Maybe it was only a minute, but it felt like eons that I stayed inside her. Like a tenant refusing to leave upon receiving an eviction notice.

But then she pushed away from the wall and I had no choice but to release her.

The next several minutes were a blur of confusion, readjustments, and tacit denial of what we'd just done. Once her dress was down and my clothes were righted, I disengaged the stop button.

It’s too late. This happened. You won’t be able to forget it.

I prayed I was wrong about that.

Chapter 9

Nyla

East wasn't