Chapter Five | NOA #3
Torin’s control went out of him like a cut wire.
He yanked the knot loose and stripped the robe off my shoulders. I caught the front of his shirt in both hands and pulled him down to me. His mouth hit mine hard, open and immediate, and I bit his lower lip because gentle had no place in this room anymore.
He made a rough sound against my mouth.
“I knew you still had claws,” he said.
“You missed them?”
“I’ve been thinking about them all afternoon.”
“Liar.”
“Hellcat, I’m many things, but not about this.”
The nickname went through me in a hot, dangerous line.
I shoved his shirt up. “Take this off before I decide to ruin it.”
Torin pulled it over his head and dropped it somewhere behind him. His body filled my hands a second later, warm skin, hard muscle, the fine Latin script along his ribs shifting under my fingers as he backed me toward the bed.
I went because I wanted to. Because I was tired of being hunted. Because Maren Bell had vanished, Sawyer Price had died, and Pamela Warren was getting dressed for a gala while the rest of us counted exit routes.
Because Torin had offered to take the danger from my hands, and I had hated him for it, and I had wanted him anyway.
The backs of my knees hit the mattress.
He caught my jaw in one hand. “I need you with me tonight.”
“I was already planning on staying alive.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
His thumb pressed under my chin, lifting my mouth to his. “Then make me work for the answer if you must, but I need to hear it before we walk into that room.”
“I’m going to make you work for it.”
His smile was all heat. “I was hoping you would.”
“You bragged about your stamina.”
“I did, and as I recall, you appreciated the evidence.”
“Prove it again.”
Torin kissed me, and this time there was no edge of restraint left in him.
He took my mouth like he was angry at the time we didn’t have.
I dragged my nails down his back and felt him shudder against me, felt the moment his hips pressed forward and the hard length of his cock ground against my stomach through his trousers.
I reached between us and palmed him.
He broke the kiss with a curse. “Christ help me.”
“That sounds like praying again.”
“It’s going to get worse.”
“That’s the idea.”
His hand slid under my tank, rough palm over my ribs, then up to my breast. He dragged the fabric high, bent his head, and closed his mouth over my nipple through the thin lace of my bra. Heat shot straight to my pussy, sharp enough that my knees almost gave.
I grabbed his hair. “Torin.”
His voice dropped, dark and thick. “I like that better when you say it like you mean it.”
“Don’t get sentimental because I used your first name.”
“I’m getting filthy because you did.”
He pushed me down onto the bed, followed me, and stripped the tank over my head.
My bra went next. He didn’t fumble. He didn’t ask the room for permission.
His hands were everywhere they had been and everywhere they hadn’t reached yet, learning me with the kind of attention that made my skin feel too tight for my body.
I hooked one leg around his hip and rolled, forcing him under me.
His eyebrows lifted. “That’s ambitious, sweetheart.”
“I like accuracy.”
I straddled him and bent to kiss him, letting my hair fall around us. His hands closed on my hips, hard enough to hold, not hard enough to stop. I rocked against the ridge of his cock and watched his jaw tighten.
“Look at you,” he said. “You like being on top.”
“I like leverage.”
“You like my cock under you.”
“I like you knowing exactly where you are.”
The words left me before pride could get in the way.
Torin’s eyes flared.
He sat up fast, taking me with him, one arm locked around my back. His mouth found my breast, hot and demanding, tongue dragging over my nipple before his teeth closed lightly enough to make me gasp and hard enough to make my hips jerk.
I ground down on him again.
He groaned against my skin. “Take what you want from me.”
“I’m taking exactly what I want.”
“I know.” His hand slid between my legs, over the seam of my pants. “You’re soaked through these.”
“Then do something useful.”
He laughed once, rough and delighted, and flipped me beneath him.
My pants were open before I decided whether to insult him. He dragged them down with my underwear, dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, and pulled me to his mouth.
I didn’t go quiet.
I couldn’t.
Torin’s tongue hit my clit, and my back arched off the sheets.
He held my thighs open with both hands and ate me like he was proving a point to God, the devil, and every man who had ever done a worse job.
He went slow for three seconds, then stopped being slow at all.
His tongue circled, pressed, flicked, and drove me up so fast I had to grab the sheets with one hand and his hair with the other.
“Torin, fuck.”
He groaned against my pussy.
The vibration tore a sound out of me I didn’t recognize and didn’t care to examine. I pulled his hair harder. His fingers tightened on my thigh, and then one slid inside me, thick and perfect, curling in a way that made the ceiling blur.
“Do that again,” I said.
He obeyed with the kind of focus that made my hips lift into his mouth. He took it, took me, held me open and worked my clit with his tongue while his fingers fucked me in a steady, brutal rhythm.
The orgasm hit like a snapped cable.
I came with his name in my mouth and my thighs shaking around his shoulders. He didn’t stop until I pushed at his head and swore at him.
Torin lifted his face, mouth wet, eyes bright. “That’s the first one, and I’m absolutely counting.”
I glared down at him, breathing hard. “You’re insufferable.”
“You’re repetitive when you’re happy.”
I kicked at his shoulder. He caught my ankle and kissed the inside of it, then rose over me, all hard lines and heat and unbearable satisfaction.
His trousers went next. I helped because patience was for women who weren’t about to walk into a trap. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, and my mouth went dry for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.
Torin saw.
“You remember it,” he said.
“I’m trying to decide whether it made you more arrogant.”
“It made me far more arrogant.”
“At least you admit it.”
He came down over me, braced on one forearm, the head of his cock dragging through my slick folds. “Tell me you want it in words filthy enough to ruin the hotel wallpaper.”
I gripped his ass and pulled him closer. “I want your cock inside me. Are those enough words for you?”
His control fractured right across his face.
“They’ll do beautifully,” he said, and pushed in.
I felt every inch.
The stretch burned hot and full, and I wrapped both legs around his hips, dragging him deeper because half measures were insulting and I had no use for them. Torin buried his face in my neck and swore in Irish, the sound rough enough to make my nails dig into his back.
He held still.
I bit his shoulder. “Move before I do it for you.”
“I’m trying not to split you in half.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
His laugh broke into a groan as I rolled my hips beneath him. Then he moved.
There was nothing gentle about it. There was nothing distant. He fucked me like the room was burning again and this time he was taking everything with him. I met him thrust for thrust, hands on his back, his shoulders, his hair, wherever I could hold and pull and leave marks he would feel later.
Torin’s mouth found mine. “You’re mine tonight.”
“I’m mine.”
“You’re yours, and you’re mine too.”
I should have argued.
Instead I clenched around his cock so hard his rhythm stuttered.
His smile against my mouth was savage. “Your body has a faster answer than your mouth.”
“Don’t get smug.”
“I’m buried in your pussy, and you’re clawing my back. Smug is the least of what I am.”
I shoved at his shoulder until he rolled with me, and then I was on top again, hands on his chest, hips moving hard. The angle changed, deeper, sharper, and my head dropped back as pleasure dragged through me.
Torin’s hands closed over my breasts, thumbs working my nipples while I rode him. His eyes stayed on me. Every time my pace faltered, he thrust up and hit the spot that made my thighs shake.
“Use me,” he said. “Take every bit of it.”
I rode him harder, taking the heat, the friction, the filthy praise, and the way his cock filled me until I could feel him everywhere. I took the look on his face, too, the look that said tonight had already put a blade to his throat and he hated that I could see where it pressed.
I bent down and kissed him.
Torin’s arms came around me at once.
His breath caught against my mouth. His fingers spread between my shoulder blades, holding me still for one beat too long.
I pulled back first and rode him harder.
He sat up, wrapped one arm around my waist, and slid his other hand between us. His thumb found my clit.
“I want you to come for me again,” he said. “I want to feel it this time.”
“You first.”
“I’m far too competitive to agree to that.”
“Competitive bastard.”
“With an excellent record.”
His thumb moved faster. His cock drove up into me. The pleasure tightened, built, burned. I braced my hands on his shoulders and let it take me because fighting this was the one fight I had no interest in winning.
I came again, harder than the first time, my body locking around him, his name breaking out of me in a way he heard and felt.
Torin’s face went raw.
He flipped me beneath him and fucked me through it, his rhythm turning rough, urgent, almost punishing. I held on. I wanted every second of it. I wanted him losing control over me. I wanted the sound he made when his hips snapped deep and his body went rigid.
He came with his forehead pressed to mine, breathing hard, one hand fisted in the sheet beside my head.
For several seconds, the suite held only our breathing and the city below the glass.
Then Torin lifted his head.
His eyes searched my face. “Are you with me?”