and was sporting a thong.
The cheeks he grabbed onto were firm and high, and he spun her around in front of him, her hair swinging in a circle as she faced the sweaty brick wall. Getting down on his knees, he bit one side of her ass, sinking his teeth into her flesh as he took that thong south.
The sexual urge he rode had nothing to do with her. She was just the living, breathing equivalent of a StairMaster, something to work his edge off with, a vessel to pour the overspill of his anger and frustration and grief into.
And given the ease with which she met him here, and kissed him here, and was letting him do her here…he had the feeling this was not the first time she’d let herself get used like this.
Maybe she was using him for the same reason.
With the thong around her ankles and her skirt up over his head, he went down on her from behind, taking her with his mouth, penetrating her with his tongue. She tasted good, her electrolyzed sex supersmooth and ultrawet against his lips, everything fragrant and clean, as if she had standards for herself.
After she’d come a couple of times—he had no idea of the count, because the truth was, he didn’t really care—he got up and initiated a trade of places so he had his back to the wall. As the woman made like she was going to try to suck him off, her knees bending as her painted nails did the deed on his zipper, he stopped that bright idea by picking her up by the thighs and splitting her legs around his hips.
He didn’t want her mouth on him.
Too personal, as weird as that sounded.
Just as Ad was about to push inside her, he froze.
Jim Heron was standing opposite them, the angel’s arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed and pissed off.
Nice timing. Fucking great.
But he wasn’t stopping now. His balls were tight as fists, and the top of his cock was about to blow off.
Ad shrugged at the guy and entered the woman. If Jim wanted to watch, that was fine. Hell, if he wanted to join in, that was okay, too.
Although the latter seemed unlikely, given that I’m-going-to-kick-your-ass expression.
Whatever.
Closing his eyes, Ad gave himself over to the slick compression he’d taken solace in so many times in the past.
God, he missed Eddie so much it hurt.
Six floors up, in his room, Matthias was unleashed. Unhinged. Unraveled.
As he kissed Mels, he went to the buttons on her silk blouse and freed them one by one, the fine fabric parting to reveal even softer skin…and a pair of cotton-covered breasts that knocked him the hell out. God, it was all too much already, the noises of their lips together, their panting breath, their clothes shifting around—the sight of her. And then there was the way she moved against him, her body undulating in waves that brought those breasts up to his chest and then her hips into his.
He wanted his mouth all over her, and that was going to happen
He meant to tease a little—didn’t last.
“Oh, God, yes…” she said as he felt her up.
At the sound of her groaning voice, he had to pause and collect himself, his head ducking into her hair as he struggled for control: The need to consume her was so great, he was a little shaken by it, because he didn’t know himself enough to trust that he wouldn’t hurt her.
There was no going back, though.
That bra was gone a heartbeat later: Springing the front clasp, he stared down at her pink nipples and her pale curves.
He growled at that point. At least, he assumed that noise came from him.
Either that or a puma had somehow slipped into the room.
Matthias dipped his head and sucked one tip into his mouth, his tongue swirling around, flicking, licking. He didn’t leave the other side alone, couldn’t—his fingers pinched, then tweaked her tight little nipple, telling it to hang on; he’d be there in a second—
A sudden sting at the nape of his neck told him she had dug in, and abruptly, her thighs went wide as if her sex were dictating her movements, not her mind—and that vital core that defined her as a woman wanted what he could give her.
Or rather…wanted what he might have given her, if he could have.
Shit.
Even with her bumping and grinding against his pelvis, and in spite of the heat that was raging in his blood, his body couldn’t respond as a male’s should. There was no hard arousal to sink into her, no erection she could grab onto, no thick cock she might wrap her lips around in payback for what was going to be done to her in another minute or two.
As a crushing sadness came over him, threatening to derail the session, a single moan from her was enough to get him back online: None of that mattered. All he wanted was to make her feel good, so when push came to shove—or rather, when she was going to want something to be pushable or shovable—he was just going to have to get creative.
Lifting his head, he stared into her flushed face and her wild eyes. That hair of hers was loose around the pillow, all wavy and spread out, and her cheeks were the color of Christmas.
Man, she was incredible.
Keeping their eyes locked, he rose up off her so that he was kneeling between her split legs. And in that pause, before things got really serious, he imagined himself as he had been, strong, powerful, his body as dominant as his will was.
As it stood now, he was glad he had the undershirt on. And he felt…really lucky.
She had everything to offer; he had nothing. And yet she wanted him anyway.
It was at that moment that he fell in love with her.
The shift in his heart and soul made no sense, and yet the emotional logic was so persuasive, the center of his chest resonated with a warmth that had never been there before: He knew without the specifics that he had spent a lifetime engaged in complicated cruelty, and yet here he was, naked before her though he was clothed, accepted for who he was on the inside, not for what he didn’t look like and couldn’t do.
The revelation changed him internally, putting him into a gear that was slower than the mad rush that he’d all but tackled her with.
Now he moved deliberately, his hands going to the button and zipper of her slacks, and undoing things at an unhurried pace. Opening the fly wide, he curled down and pressed a kiss to her lower abdomen, halfway between her belly button and the top of her sensible, mind-blowingly erotic bikini panties.
Who needed that fussy lace and satin crap? Simple cotton did it for him, as long as she was the one wearing it.
Man, he wanted to suck on her through the damn things.
“I’m gonna get you naked,” he said in a voice warped with sex.
With another one of those holy-shit moans of hers, Mels cranked her head to the side and watched him pull off what covered her lower body, one hand drifting to her mouth and touching it.
Matthias reached up and edged her fingers between her lips. “Suck on them for me—oh, fuck, yeah…”
She did exactly what she was told, her cheeks drawing in as she complied, then her tongue parting through her fore- and middle fingers before the knuckles disappeared from sight again.
“Like this?” she said after pulling them free.
He had to close his eyes. It was either that or pass the fuck out…because all he could imagine was his cock in that wet, warm hold, her down at his hips, her head going forward and back as that suction was all around him.
“You’re beautiful,” he growled as he tossed her pants over his shoulder.
