She steadied her voice, with conscious effort. “I have nothing to gain from winning it. So why bother?”
He hoisted her effortlessly up so that her crotch straddled his. Letting her feel his length, his hardness, his heat. “You do not convince me.” He swayed back, holding her against the wall, and looked pointedly down at his thigh. His jeans had a gleaming wet spot.
Her face flamed. This feeling was for the man, not for her. Helpless, desperate, flopping like a fish on a hook, ripe for whatever agenda he might have. She shook her head, but she couldn’t stop clenching her thighs around him. Shivers rippled down her legs.
“You want to see how a professional liar and scam artist fakes an orgasm, Janos?” she asked. “While we’re at it, I’ve always wondered how male professionals manage that trick. The technical aspects of it baffle me. Am I about to find out? Shall we trade professional secrets?”
His arms tightened around her. His hand slid up, his fingertip gliding tenderly down the cleft of her buttocks until it found her tight folds, hot and slick and yielding. He stroked her, penetrating her.
To his credit, he did not laugh at her to find her so hot and soft and drenched. His smile was oddly gentle. “Va bene,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers. “Pretend all you like, bella. And I will do the same. Pretend to the best of your ability.”
She jerked away from his kiss. “Don’t you dare make fun of me.”
“Never.” He cupped her head and kissed her again, almost angrily. His mouth coaxed hers open just as his finger slid deeper, stroking the whole length of her cunt and then delving deep.
She came instantly, almost painfully, convulsing around his hand. Sobs choked out of her with each deep, wrenching spasm.
He waited, immobile. Listening, feeling. Stroking at her lips tenderly with his own, then a delicate, careful touch of his tongue, the brush of her nipples against his chest, the tip of his tongue sliding into her mouth. No hurry, no fear. Complete mastery. She tried to breathe, tried to speak. There was nothing to say. He had bested her.
His lips caressed her cheekbone, kissing her eyelids, her brow. “The most realistic faked orgasm I ever felt,” he whispered. “A tip, bella. A faked orgasm is more realistic if you make me work for it. At least a little bit, no? Wait longer next time. I did not even touch your clit.”
She licked her dry, trembling lips. “Fuck you.” She mouthed the words, but was too breathless to voice them.
A brief smile illuminated his face. “That is what I intend to do,” he said. “But first, another fake orgasm. This time, try to wait, no? I will help you.”
She twisted against him in protest, only succeeding in lodging his fingers deeper inside her slick channel. She squeezed her thighs around his big hand as he stroked and swirled, following all her nerve pathways as if he were inside her mind.
This time, he did make her wait. He teased and beckoned, but every time she started to crest, he drew back, time after time, until she wanted to scream, writhe, beg. He drove her deeper and deeper into that altered state, mind to mind, shockingly intimate. She struggled around his caressing, invading hand. She was made of lightning, heat, steam, making desperate sounds she barely heard over the pounding of her heart, the roaring in her head. And finally, he brought her off.
The orgasm cracked her wide open.
Behind that wall was something she hadn’t known existed. A part of herself she’d thought was long dead. Something wordless and tender and unknown. It shone, dazzling her with its purity.
She must have fainted. She could not tell and did not care. Janos scooped her up into his arms long before she recovered and strode down the hall. He tried every door he passed until one of them opened. He slapped the door open, flipped on the light. It was a staff kitchen.
He set her on her feet, shoved the door to and stared into her eyes as he flipped the door knob with a deliberate “click.”
She laughed shakily. “I didn’t say you could—”
“I am not asking your permission. You would kick me in the teeth and spit on me as you walk over me with the spiked heels, no?”
She almost betrayed herself by giggling. “Bullshit.”
He grinned wickedly. “I know what you like,” he said. “A spineless dickhead with no balls who asked nicely would not arouse you, Tamara Steele. We have established this fact beyond all doubt.”
Don’t presume to know me. She wanted to say it, but her mouth was too busy frantically kissing him.
The kiss was wild, rough. A mutual devouring, and she set the tone. His grip tightened as his lips dragged down her jaw, teeth grazing the tendons of her throat as he wound his hands into her hair, pulling out clips, pins, clasps. He tossed the ornaments carelessly down onto the kitchen counter. He was not afraid of them, despite what she had done to him in the hotel. And he seemed to be sure she would not hurt him.
At least not until she’d gotten what she needed.
He unraveled her hair, spreading out braid-crimped locks and draping them over her shoulders. She felt younger with her hair loose, vulnerable. He pressed his face to her nape, wrapping thick skeins around his fists. Even her hair felt pleasure, tingling in her scalp, swirling through her at each stroking touch down its length.
He tugged her stretchy bodice down over her shoulders, her breasts. His hungry mouth followed the path of his hands, trailing slow, dragging kisses over her collarbone, her chest. His hands slid up her thighs, over the stockings to the smooth, bare skin.
Her legs threatened to give way when Janos stepped back and undid his belt. Delicious anticipation fluttered across the surface of her skin at subtle sounds of leather creaking, buttons popping.
She reached down, impatient, and fumbled to free him from the black denim, the snug black briefs. She grabbed his cock.
His hand covered hers and squeezed. Stroked.
Yes. She made an involuntary sound like a satisfied cat. He was long, heavy, rock hard. Scalding hot, velvety smooth. Every beat of his heart throbbed hard against her palm. She swirled his thick, blunt, cockhead in her palm. It was flushed a fierce, hot red. Very large.
Excellent. She’d never given a damn about size before, but she liked it that Janos’s cock was big. She liked excess, she liked overkill.
She’d been hungry for so long. Bring it on. Loads of it.
He shuddered, his fingers fumbling with the condom from his pocket. She wanted to bat the latex out of his hands, hungry for naked contact with his hot skin, but a last, lingering shred of sanity stayed her hand. She’d abandoned the pill after the Novak debacle, figuring contraception would never be an issue in her life again. She doubted she was particularly fertile even without it, but life was full of inconvenient surprises. And there were diseases to consider.
Not that she was in any condition to consider anything. That and all other rational thought melted away to nothing at the sweet shock of contact. Janos slid the head of his thick shaft slowly up and down her cleft, seeking out the strokes, the angles that made her gasp.
He surged deep inside, filling her. Impossibly thick and deep.
