“Don’t tease me,” she begged, the sweet seduction of her voice bringing him back from that dangerous edge. “I’m so close.”
“Your mouth says one thing, but…” Dorian slipped his fingers inside her with a long, deep stroke. “I think you like being teased, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“But if you want me to stop…” He pulled his fingers out, hovering near her entrance.
“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. You’re making me fucking crazy, but I love it.”
“Good girl.” He plunged into her again, stroking her with his fingers while he licked the hot, swollen nub of her clit, pulling back each time she got too close to ecstasy.
When he finally sensed she couldn’t endure another moment of his torture, he stopped his teasing and kissed her madly, fucking her with his mouth, harder, faster, deeper as he pushed her to the very edge.
And then, right over it.
“Fucking hell!” she breathed, her voice a desperate whisper, making Dorian regret not telling her his name. What he wouldn’t give to hear it now, rushing out with her last, gasping breaths as her hips bucked wildly against his face, her whole body humming with euphoria.
Dorian had given her the ultimatum in hopes of maintaining the tenuous hold on his control, but now he was absolutely drunk on the woman, quickly falling under whatever spell she’d intended on casting when he caught her in the study. Maybe all she wanted was his wallet, his passport, the keys to Ravenswood—hell, maybe she was a hunter, stake at the ready, but Dorian didn’t care. Right now, all that mattered was the taste. The feel. The promise of what came next.
The clock was ticking on their last secluded moments—Dorian knew they didn’t have much time. But he wasn’t ready to let her go. How could he say goodbye without knowing how it felt to be inside her, to drive her over the edge again as he fell right along with her? He’d gotten his taste, but now his cock was more than ready, desperate to ruin her for anyone else.
She was still buzzing from the orgasm when he rose from the floor, kissing his way from her thighs to her hips, her belly, her breasts. Through the lace of her bra, he scraped his teeth against her nipple, and then bit gently, unleashing another moan of pleasure.
“Untie me,” she said. “Please. I need to touch you.”
He unbound her wrists, and she pressed a hand to the front of his suit pants, palming his cock. Dorian’s breath caught, his own heart banging as wildly as hers. As she fumbled with his belt buckle, he reached behind her and unhooked her bra, freeing her firm, perfect breasts and sucking a nipple into his mouth. Her skin was so smooth and soft, like warm velvet beneath his stubbled jaw, and bloody hell he needed to be inside her—right fucking now.
“I should probably warn you.” He slid his hand between her thighs, stroking her slick heat. “I’m going to fuck you now.”
“Then I should probably warn you.” The woman reached inside his boxers and gripped him hard, then leaned in close, her words a hot rush in his ear. “I like it rough. Don’t you dare disappoint me.”
Dorian sputtered out a laugh. Who was this woman? Every time he thought he’d regained the upper hand, she swept in with another feisty remark, another touch, another dare that knocked him off-balance and made it more unlikely that he’d let her go.
He was about to assure her he’d be glad to accommodate, when a noise beyond the closet door cut him off, and suddenly the world went stark white, their dark hideaway flooded with harsh, accusatory light.
“You gotta be kidding me.” The security guard stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, the other on his cell. Shooting them a look that could cut glass, he spoke brusquely into the phone. “False alarm, sir. We’re good.”
Dorian shifted to block his woman’s nakedness from view.
“You wanna tell me what the hell you’re doin’ in here?” The guard spoke with a thick Brooklyn-Italian accent, and Dorian couldn’t decipher whether he was angry, shocked, or seriously entertained—maybe a bit of all three. “You didn’t see them big-ass ropes? This room is off-limits.”
“My apologies,” Dorian said, hoping he wouldn’t have to compel the man in front of his guest. “If you’ll allow me to explain—”
“Pretty sure I don’t need a diagram, sir.”
“We were just working through some differences,” the woman said, peeking her head out from behind Dorian’s shoulder. “About the Whitfield painting? I don’t know if you saw the big showdown, but things got pretty heated.”
He barked out a laugh. “Lady, I’ve seen some freaky shit at this job, but you two are a real piece.”
“I suppose we got a bit carried away,” Dorian said. “My wife can be quite…” He inhaled deeply, taking in her heady scent as he sought the right word. “…insatiable.”
“I don’t care if she’s dying and the only thing that can save her is regular injections of your gold-plated dick.” He bent down to pick up the woman’s purse and the dress Dorian had unceremoniously dropped outside the door, then handed them over. “You can’t come past the ropes, capisce?”
“Of course.” Dorian bit back a grin at the image of his so-called gold-plated dick. “From now on, I’ll make sure she knows exactly where she can come.”
Behind him, the woman snickered softly, but the guard was less than amused.
“Get dressed and hang up those coats. Now.” He slammed the door shut, giving them a few final moments of privacy.
Bathed again in darkness, Dorian and his woman could only laugh.
“I knew you’d get me into trouble,” he whispered, holding out an arm to steady her as she stepped into the dress.
“Me? You’re the one who dragged me into the closet and—”
“And what?” He zipped her up and pulled her close again, his hand dipping up under the dress, right between her thighs.
It was his new favorite place, and he wasn’t quite ready to leave it.
“And touched me,” she whispered.
“Did I?” He ran a feather-light finger along her clit, then slipped inside. She was still so wet for him, so eager. “If this was my penthouse, I’d have you tied up and spread out on my bed by now. No interruptions. No company.” He ran his nose along the elegant slope of her neck, nipping her shoulder. “No escape.”
The woman gasped, her legs quaking again as he pumped her with slow, deliberate thrusts. The guard was certainly standing right outside the door, but Dorian suspected his woman didn’t care, and for the moment, neither did he.
“We’ve got fifteen seconds, maybe thirty before he opens that door again,” he whispered. “Can you come for me that quickly?”
He thrust in deeper, thumb rubbing her clit. She opened her mouth to moan, to scream, to let it all out, but he silenced her with a kiss, stealing her breath as he coaxed a final, epic wave from her beautiful body, holding her through the very last tremor.
When they finally opened the closet door, they were the very picture of composure.
“Christ, mister.” The guard eyed them warily as they stepped into the study. “You drop three large on a painting of wet fuckin’ grass, and you can’t afford to take your wife somewhere nice?”