No White Knight Page 8

  “Oh no, little sass. It turns the heat up a thousand degrees if you let it. But you’ll learn that over time too.”

  She spurted a laugh. “Excuse me? I’ll learn? Over time?” Her adamant head shake made her hair catch the light, almost distracting in its radiance. “You know that’s BS too, right? That there is no ‘over time’ here, buddy. Don’t get me wrong. I can already tell you’d be a seriously fun once-and-doner. You live in another state, for Christ’s sake. Nothing better than that for anti-cling-on insurance. But the ‘over time’ nonsense, in any form, will not be going on here.” She motioned back and forth between the two of us with a finger. “Besides”—the finger stabbed into the middle of my chest—“you’re a douchebag clown, and I can barely stand you. Though I admit, there is the whole ‘looking at you’ portion of things.” She went on, as if my glower hadn’t just torqued by at least a dozen degrees, “Dude, seriously? You’re definitely smokin.”

  A few more beats passed. I worked my jaw up and down, buying time while I tried to make sense of a single word she’d just said. Fuck me. How could a woman have such a gorgeous yet disrespectful mouth?

  Finally, I stated, “I truly have no idea what you just said—except that there’s a good chance we’re going to have sex, and I like that part. But the rest was in Californian, and I just don’t speak that yet.” I was going to make more of a point about that, before my gaze roamed across her small living room. “Whooooaaaa. Do you play?”

  In a curved alcove along the opposite wall there was a table set up with a very old chess board. The set was intricately carved from marble and well taken care of. The pieces were positioned in midgame, and at first glance—then second and third—it looked like the white king was in a terrible check situation.

  Unable to resist, I crossed over to the board. Taylor was at my side so quickly I was reminded of Louvre security guards as soon as someone dared to reach for the Mona Lisa.

  “Do not touch a single piece.”

  I inched back, tossing an amazed side-eye. I never would’ve pegged the woman for that strident a commanding hiss, but in my line of work, a guy learned to embrace the unexpected, no matter how confusing.

  “Okay.” Drawing out both syllables, I backed off by a step.

  “It’s—it’s just that it’s an antique set,” she rushed like a kid explaining a milk spill, “and I-I just don’t have very many things that are valuable—as you can probably tell.”

  I backed off by another inch. Replied quietly, “I’ve had a narrow focus on the scenery so far.”

  She didn’t want to enjoy the compliment. Her pressed lips and averted gaze proved it. “Well, I’d hate for anything to happen to this.”

  “Of course.” I said nothing else, not pressing the matter. If she wasn’t lying, I was a goddamned cyclops, but right now, there were more important matters at hand. Like revisiting the part about having sex.

  “Well, that’s too bad,” I said easily. “I was hoping you played.”

  “You do?”

  “Since I was a boy. Killian’s father taught me. It’s been a while, though. It’d be nice to have someone to play with again.”

  “What about Killian?”

  “And what about we keep the subject in the realm of reality?” I scooted in on her again, fitting the fingers of my left hand through the soft digits of her right. “So, a ‘once-and-doner,’ huh?”

  She shook her head again, trying to pull her hand away. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  I didn’t let her free. Just the opposite. With a sweep of dedicated movement, I used my hold to lift her hand and then turned it palm up. The fleshy part of the human hand, right where the thumb connected to it, was very sensitive if stimulated properly. Yeah, I liked knowing that—and yeah, I liked using that knowledge on her, dipping my head and kissing her there. I lingered with my lips, warming her skin with my breath and licking the flesh slowly with my tongue. Small circles, letting my taste buds memorize her heady, creamy taste…

  “Mac.” It was a weak protest at best, and she made no effort to get free. I smiled against her milky skin and kissed it again—before sinking my teeth into her palm.

  “Ahhhhh.”

  I stopped about three seconds after she made the sound, knowing she could take so much more and was reacting out of surprise and arousal than true pain—though I also sensed this beauty would enjoy real pain if she ever consented to try out its transformative power. No. Once she consented. I needed to see that stunning moment for myself—though it wouldn’t be tonight. Down the road sometime. Way down.

  And goddamn it, if I had any influence on the matter, our road wouldn’t be finished after tonight.

  I lifted my eyes to watch her reaction as I licked the dark-red stain I’d made on her palm. The sight of the mark—my mark—fueled my blood with dizzying lust.

  “So, this is your thing?” she said, sort of stuttering after sucking in her breath as I licked her. Still, her undertone was accusatory. “Biting?” she emphasized. “Like a toddler?”

  I slid a devilish grin. “Do you want it to be my thing?” I dragged my lips along each of her fingers, finishing each caress with a warm suck to her fingertip. “You seem to like it.”

  Her spine went rigid. If it were even possible, she looked a little prim. “I…I do like it.”

  Yeah. Screw that rod up her spine.

  Her confession was all it took to unhinge my composure again. I yanked her to me hard, crushing her lips in a brutal kiss, softening her Anne of Green Gables act inside ten seconds. I did it that way because I knew she craved it this way—and God knew, so did I. No tender duel of tongues or other poetic crap. This was a full-on declaration of war, a battle of mashing lips and hungry breaths. The victor would have the fewest bruises, and damn if I didn’t want to wave a white flag just to feel her ferocity unleashed on me in this way.

  I was hooked on her already. I couldn’t get enough of her passion, my custom drug of choice. As I sucked her tongue into my mouth, I imagined what her clit would be like in its place. As I ran my free hand along her side, I cursed the clothes that kept me from the treasure of her pale, perfect body.

  A groan punched the air, and I vaguely recognized it as mine. I was a creature outside myself, though never had I been more connected to every fucking inch of my body. That beast repeated his moaning war cry while finding the closest wall and ramming Taylor against it, at once parting her legs in order to grind his throbbing cock into her flat belly.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  She was pliant but vicious, fierce but needy, radiating heat but shivering to the ends of her limbs. I lifted her with the force of my thrusts, and it still wasn’t enough. I wanted to split her in half with every shove. Fill her until she could taste me with every lunge. She would know who claimed her when we were through. She turned me into a man possessed, crazy with lust, needing her smell, her taste, her simple essence. It had been a long damn time since I’d felt this way. Years. Long ones. I thought I’d gotten over the foolishness of needing to consume a woman, but Taylor Mathews blew that theory into the damn cosmos.

  “Take me to your bed, Taylor,” I all but begged into her ear. “I need to fuck you.”

  “No.”

  I froze—damn sure I’d misheard. She stated her answer so simply, getting the syllable in between our wet kisses.

  “Uh…what?”

  “I said no.”

  “What the hell do you mean?” I wasn’t about to let up on her. Dragging my mouth along the seam of hers, I demanded, “I know you want this too. Why are you denying us this?” Why, indeed. We were on fire. I was stunned the building hadn’t gone up in flames from our lust.

  “I’m not fucking you, Mac.”

  She literally gasped it now, between all of our horny and desperate kisses.

  I growled back, “You’re making me crazy, woman. I don’t understand.” I bent in, biting her neck particularly hard, leaving a mark she wouldn’t be
able to hide even if she had a few turtlenecks in her closet. I liked that idea. I rejoiced in the idea of her blushing when her friends saw or guessed at the source of the marks on her body. It was me. Read the evidence and weep…

  “No. No.” But the words tumbled out of her anyway, even as she grabbed me by the hair and pulled me down for another hot, open-mouthed kiss. “You d-don’t understand…at all. You don’t want to do this. I’m way too fucked up for this. For you. You…you won’t be able to—”

  I silenced her with a kiss meant to punish, and it did just that to us both because I craved her now to the point of pain—and not the good kind. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle and what I can’t,” I finally snarled against her lips. “But tell me your cunt isn’t drenched for me, sassy, and I’ll walk the hell out of here.”

  No confession of the sort—but she did kiss me again, forcing her tongue halfway down my throat.

  Yeah. We’ll see exactly what I could handle, damn it.

  I twisted the button on her jeans and slid the zipper down. Spread the two halves open wide, like I wanted to fuck her with her legs wrapped around my rutting hips. I stood back, making her watch as I pushed her jeans down to her jutting hip bones, roughly pulling her sexy cotton panties along with them. As soon as I bared her beautiful pussy, her arousal infused the air and my cock nearly tore a hole in my pants.

  And holy Christ…her pussy.

  Mother fucking hallelujah, the last female on the planet who hadn’t shaved or waxed off all her pubic hair stood before me. There was a god, or Santa Claus, or pubic hair fairy after all.

  “Jesus…Taylor.” I buried my face in her neck, instantly starting a new trail of love bites into her delectable skin. From behind her ear, I dug in down her neck, across her collarbone, and out to her shoulder, where I really sank in. That one was going to leave an actual bruise, and I reveled in the high little shriek she let out as I delivered it without mercy. At the moment she seized hardest from the pain, I plunged my middle finger up into her cunt. Her cry turned into a moan loud enough to give her neighbors some juicy dinner table gossip.

  “So good, love.” I meant every husky syllable. “So damn good.”

  “God. Mac.” She swallowed hard. “Oh, my God.”

  “Mmmm. You’re so fucking wet.” I pressed on her clit with my thumb, adding my ring finger to the penetration alongside my middle finger. The heat inside her body made my head spin. The clench of her channel made my knees weak. “Fuck. Taylor. My God. Take me to your bed, sassy. Let’s do this the right way.”

  “Stop. Talking.” She’d managed to undo a couple of my shirt buttons, now digging past that barrier to my abdomen. Her other hand clawed the back of my head. “Just finger-fuck me, clown. Please. Please.”

  It was close enough to an order to be taken as one—normally a dynamic I never agreed to in the bedroom—but her voice was a million strands of heated silk around my dick, all yanked tight at the same second. My pleasure was now inexorably wound with hers. I didn’t just want to make her come now. I needed it. Whether I was inside her or not.

  I needed the explosion of her pleasure like I needed my next breath. Maybe more.

  I rubbed her clit a little harder while slowly pumping my fingers in and out of her. “How’s that? Enough? Do you want more? Tell me, Taylor. Tell me what you like. Tell me what you need.”

  “More. More.” She sucked on the skin of my neck, burrowing her nose into me like a little kitten. “Just…more.”

  “More what? More pressure? Faster? Fuller? Tell me, love. Let me give you what you need.”

  “More fingers.” Her voice was a whimper as she gripped my shoulders, grinding down on my hand.

  I gladly slid my index finger in with the others. Her pussy was so wet and pliable and soft and aroused, I’d probably be able to get my whole fist up inside her. Precome leaked from my tip at the image that thought conjured.

  Another day, big guy. Another day.

  I was genuinely counting on that. Something told me there wasn’t anything this little sass couldn’t manage. And nothing I didn’t want to push her to take.

  “Spread your legs wider, Taylor. I’m going to fuck you harder.”

  She instantly complied, and I rewarded her with a bite on top of the first I’d already given to her shoulder. The dark-red mark there was already so fucking sexy, I was drawn to deepen my claim on her once more. “One-and-done” was going to be the one she’d never forget.

  “Oh, God! Mac!”

  I pumped harder and faster into her pussy, reveling in how her juices dripped between my fingers. Maybe I’d make her lick her essence off me after she’d orgasmed—another image causing my cock to scream at me from its confinement, while her desire was a living, breathing entity on the air now. A goddess of a creature, possessing us both as she slammed her head back against the wall, closing her eyes again and panting hard.

  “I’m—I’m going to—”

  “What?” I bit it like a profanity. “Goddamn it, Taylor. Tell me.”

  “I’m…I’m going to come.”

  “Yes.” And just like that, I was on top again. Commanding her again. Controlling every tremor, shiver, sigh, scream, and molecule of sweat, arousal, and juice her body had to give. All for me. All because of me. “You are going to come. And you’re going to do it hard, sassy—for me.”

  “Okay.” She swallowed hard. “Just please…don’t stop. Please, please, please don’t stop. Just like that.”

  “Feels good, baby?”

  “B-Better than good. Oh. Ohhhh.”

  I angled forward, trying to find just the right spot deep inside her quivering body. Every woman was just a bit different, but there was no doubt about it—when a guy hit it, he knew. He just knew.

  “Ohhhhh!” She shrieked so loud both my ears rang. I smiled, deepening my caresses over that little strip of sensitivity inside her cunt. “What are you doing to me?”

  I leaned in, scraping my teeth along the curve of her jaw. “You want me to stop?”

  “No!” Another long moan. “Dear God, no! Ohhhh…hell…”

  Apparently, no one had ever hit her G-spot before, but watching her fall apart had to be one of the best damn moments of my life. I pumped her through the shattering orgasm, keeping my fingers deep in her channel while she fluttered wildly around me. My free arm, still around her waist, remained in a tight hold until she was finished with all the residual shivers. When she slackened against me, I slid to the floor and gathered her close to my chest.

  We sat there, silent and sweaty, in her tiny apartment, wordless and, in a way, even weightless. Time was sure as hell not a consideration, nor were her jeans and panties, still haphazardly pushed around her thighs.

  She purred in my lap, completely content.

  And strangely—wonderfully—so was I.

  For perhaps the first time since we’d met, we were at peace. I liked the feeling. A lot. What a treat it was to stroke her silky blond hair while she relaxed in my arms, finally not defensive or combative. Just simply…Taylor.

  Taylor. The most captivating, curious, mystifying woman I’d ever met.

  Literally. Ever.

  Chapter Six

  Taylor

  Lord. Help. Me.

  It was, without a doubt, the best orgasm I’d ever had.

  But the man’s horrid—heavenly—biting habit needed to stop. Or so I kept attempting to tell myself—and failing. My shoulder throbbed but in the most tantalizing way. The pain brought back every second of the memories…the moments I never wanted to forget. There’d be an enormous bruise there, and I’d wince at that—as every inch of me glowed anew with erotic warmth. It would be my badge of honor. The ultimate sign that I’d tamed the beast known as Maclain Stone.

  And what a beast…

  That thought brought out my inner preen, inspiring me to be more snuggly than usual on the outside. With my head burrowed against his chest and my body drenched in a post-orgasmic high, I finally muttered,
“Hey…clown?”

  “Hmmm?” he murmured, still sounding sexy and growly.

  “We need to talk about you getting a chew toy.”

  He laughed from so low in his throat the sound vibrated through his body and rumbled through mine. I was still draped across his lap like a rag doll, my pants hanging low around my thighs like some harlot’s, though at this moment, I was okay with the comparison. Sometimes, careless harlot felt good.

  Not true, either. Harlot had never felt good for me—until this. Until him.

  “I think I’ve already found the perfect one.” He tugged a section of my hair a little harder, just in case I’d missed the obvious reference. My preen button given a rocket boost, I didn’t even want to muster a protest. I tucked my head beneath his chin and sighed. No. Not a harlot at all. A treasured kitten. I said as much, practically meowing into the spot where his pulse thudded so firmly, at the base of his corded throat.

  After a few seconds of that, another low vibration moved through him. “Taylor,” he husked, swallowing solidly.

  “Mmmm?”

  “Let’s go to your room. I’m not done with you.”

  “No.” Once more, I issued it with soft simplicity.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re done, mister. Trust me.”

  “Little sass, if you think that’s all there is to a night with me, you are sadly mistaken.”

  His sensual drawl nearly made me give up and kiss him again. Long and hard. I resisted by huffing, “I’m sure your sexual prowess is mighty, Super Clown, but I’m not about to test your strengths one by one.” I summoned the strength to straighten a little. “No offense, but I have to get up for work in the morning—and regardless, I’m sure my neighbors have called nine-one-one after that last trick.”

  Feeling I could accomplish a full rise, I swung my feet to the floor and pushed up. Mac helped, carefully supporting me, while getting himself upright in a single smooth motion. The man was so naturally agile, he bordered on daunting—but that wasn’t where the word stopped with him. As I yanked my jeans back up and then refastened the button, no way could I miss the bulge in the front of his dress slacks.