Wicked Burn (7 page)

Niall’s eyes crept up to study his face while he was focused on leaving a tip and signing his name to the bill. “Do you have other brothers or sisters besides Meg?”

“Nah, just Meg and me.”

His eyes abruptly leapt to her face, catching her skittish gaze and holding tight.

“I slept with Eileen Moore years ago, Niall. It was after I went through an ugly breakup with a woman I was supposed to marry. I was dead drunk for almost six months after the fact. If you want to know the truth, Eileen probably thought of it as a series of pity fucks. I was damned
pitiful
, that’s for sure,” he said with a wry twist of his handsome mouth.

Niall just stared at him for a long moment. His stark honesty always took her off guard, but she was undoubtedly drawn to it. She had no doubt that he stated things the way he saw them. He either hadn’t noticed or chose to ignore the fact that Eileen Moore still carried a blazing torch for him. And after having sex with Vic, Niall sincerely doubted that Eileen’s motivation for sleeping with him was pity. But Niall kept that to herself.

Vic surprised her a few seconds later when he reached for the hand that she wasn’t using to sip her coffee.

“I see that you were married before.”

Niall froze in the action of setting her cup back on the saucer.

“What?” she asked.

He lifted her hand. Before she could guess what he was about, he gripped her first two fingers in his right hand and pushed back her ring finger with the other. His thumb made tiny little circles at the tender apex, making Niall shiver with pleasure.

“I can see the outline of a ring here,” he said gruffly, referring to where his thumb rubbed.

“Oh . . . yes, I was.”

“How long ago did you two split?”

“Three years ago.”

The sound of Niall’s husky, low voice caused a burning, tingling sensation of excitement to pass from Vic’s tailbone to the root of his cock. He wondered idly if he could come just from the sound of her voice alone.

Still, it had been strange that she’d said she and her husband split three years ago. The imprint on her ring finger, the paleness where the sun never shone, would have argued for something more recent. Maybe she’d worn her wedding ring for years after they’d divorced, hoping that one day they’d get back together.

That would be something he and Niall had in common. Didn’t the psychotherapist that he saw for a year after he broke up with Jenny always tell him that his actions, more so than his words, were those of a man who was holding out hope for lost love?

Yeah, right.

As if Jenny would ever think of leaving Mr. Smooth Hollywood Producer for a man who would rather eat his dinner in the saddle than at a restaurant like the nauseatingly trendy one that Mr. Smooth owned—among myriad other properties and businesses—in Los Angeles.

Who fucking cared about Jenny anyway, when such a beautiful woman stared up at him with phenomenally sexy eyes?

Vic felt Niall’s indrawn breath on his knuckle when he reached up and pressed a thumb to her lush lower lip. Her mouth was the same color as her nipples—a lush, dark pink that became red under the ministrations of his teeth and tongue. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d jerked off in the past twelve days while he pictured her pointed, rosy nipples trembling slightly as he’d pounded into her tight little body.

“I want you again, Niall. I have every second since you walked out my front door the other day,” he admitted quietly.

Her eyes cast downward, but almost immediately leapt back up to consider him through thick eyelashes. He’d been in varying states of arousal since Niall first walked into Louie’s tonight, looking fresh and sexy in a pair of jeans and high-heeled boots. But that single, shy, seductive glance made him harden into full, leaden readiness. When she started to speak, Vic transferred his hand from her mouth to the side of her neck, where he refamiliarized himself with the incredible silkiness of her skin.

“You told me to leave. You sounded so . . . hard,” she whispered.

His fingers sank into the soft hair at her nape. His movements were causing the fresh, fruity scent of her shampoo to drift up to his appreciative nose.

“I told you to leave only because all I could think about doing was nailing you down on that hard floor until your ears rang. I figured you’d had enough of that back in my bed.” He watched as her eyes flickered around them and realized that she was checking to make sure they weren’t overheard.

“I liked it,” she finally whispered.

Vic’s eyes narrowed. His stroking fingers stilled. “You liked being taken hard?” His cock swelled uncomfortably behind the fly of his jeans when she just nodded her head, her eyes overtaking half her face. “You weren’t a little scared, Niall?” he goaded her gently.

“No. Not of you.”

“Then what?”

He saw her glance away, sensed her hesitation.

“Of myself, I guess. I’ve never done anything like that. It was impulsive, crazy . . .”

“Fucking great,” he finished succinctly. He cradled her chin in his palm when she glanced down, forcing her to meet his gaze again.

“What do you say, Niall? Do you want to get crazy with me again?”

Her delicious lower lip fell open.

“Yes,” she finally replied.

Vic just smiled and grabbed her hand, helping her out of the booth.

FOUR

“Vic!” Niall admonished a minute later when a harassed-looking man in a suit tried to hurry to get on the elevator with them and Vic blocked the entrance until the doors closed with the man on the other side of them.

Vic chuckled as he turned toward her. He reached under her armpits, lifting her slightly until her ass rested on the brass railing. He had his belly pressed tightly to hers and his considerable erection snuggled between her thighs before Niall could blink. She felt so small in his arms. So good.

“He’ll get another one,” he mumbled as he pressed his mouth to her neck. “This elevator is obviously being used,” he muttered before he dipped his head and took her mouth.

“God, you taste good,” he said a few seconds later when the doors dinged open on the seventeenth floor. “Do you know how much I wanted to do this on the night we rode the elevator together a month ago?” He nibbled and bit at her damp, upturned lips.

Niall moaned as desire uncoiled powerfully inside of her. She started when he reached back lightning quick and stopped the elevator door from closing.

“Do you, Niall?” he repeated roughly.

“I know.” She wiggled her hips against him insistently until he stepped back, his jaw hanging partially open. She paused in the hallway to consider him. His gray eyes gleamed with desire. His dark brown hair had fallen forward on his forehead when he’d ravaged her mouth. “I wanted the same thing, Vic.”

She unsuccessfully suppressed a smile when the elevator door started to close between them and he pushed it back violently, as though it had personally offended him by having the temerity to separate them. He reached for her hand and hauled her down the hallway.

Vic paused with his keys in the door and glanced down at her. Niall had only the impression of something sparking into his gray eyes before he reached for her. He covered her mouth with his and provided a thirsty suction at the same time that he sank between her lips, thrusting again and again, pausing to sweep her depths and rub against her tongue. When he eventually lifted his head, their breathing had escalated noticeably. He pressed his thumb into her lower lip.

“What was that for?” Niall asked dazedly. Her head spun from the taste and sensation of him.

“You had a witch’s smile on your face,” he said as he drew small circles on her damp lip. Niall stared at his rugged face, thoroughly hypnotized. “Come here.”

She stumbled behind him as he took her hand and entered the apartment, slamming the door loudly behind him. He pulled her into the bedroom. When he dropped her hand, he immediately began to unbutton his jeans.

“You were born on the North Shore and you look pretty damn near perfect in pearls. But when I see your mouth, all I can think about is you on your knees being very unladylike,” he told her.

Niall watched, spellbound, as he shoved down his jeans and a pair of white boxer briefs to his thighs. His cock jutted forward, heavy and hard, darkened and swollen with blood . . . ready to do business. He took the stiff pillar into his hand and stroked it slowly while she watched.

Niall felt warm fluid gush into her panties at the erotic image. She moaned when Vic put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her toward him. She began to willingly sink to her knees, but he abruptly stopped her. He rapidly unbuttoned her blouse.

“I want to see these while you suck me,” he muttered as he ran his fingers over one of her breasts. Her nipple immediately puckered tight for him.

 

 

Vic felt her eyes on him. He paused in the process of whipping her blouse over her shoulders and met her gaze. For a second he froze at the sight of the mixed desire and confusion he saw glazing her eyes. He thought about telling her that he was so desperate at that moment because he’d thought of her time and again since he’d last touched her, recalled the musky, sweet taste of her pussy on his tongue, jacked off countless times as he replayed fucking her while she convulsed around him in orgasm.

He could have gone to bed with another woman to take the edge off. There’d been plenty of opportunities to do just that. But Vic doubted that the tension that grew in him could be alleviated by anyone else . . . at least not totally. He’d anticipated having her again until his restraint sharpened his desire to a stabbing pain.

So even though he saw uncertainty in her beautiful eyes, he chose to let the heat of the moment burn it away. She would either accept his ways or she wouldn’t. He couldn’t change who he was for a woman. He’d already tried that once.

Didn’t work.

He tossed her blouse onto his bed and reached behind her to unfasten her ivory satin bra. His eyes remained glued to her pointed little breasts after he’d bared her. He wanted to suck on the pert beauties until the fat nipples stood red and distended above the pale, tender flesh of her breasts. The crests were already hard and pebbled with arousal. She’d melt like sugar on his tongue . . .

But his desire for Niall was so strong, so pure, that he couldn’t think of anything else but finding release at that moment. Once she’d taken the edge off,
then
maybe he could think about loving her slowly.

“Down on your knees, baby,” he ordered softly.

 

 

Niall had to use Vic’s hips to steady herself as she sank before him, so dizzy had she become with desire. She didn’t know why she did what he demanded without hesitation. She couldn’t imagine allowing it with another man. His manner was harsh . . . crude, even.

Her vaginal muscles contracted almost painfully. Her clit burned, starved for friction when she stared at the heavy erection that bobbed just an inch before her nose. The head of his cock was fat, fleshy, and smooth, clearly defined by a quarter-inch-thick ridge from the stalk.

He was going to stretch her lips just as he had her pussy.

The realization caused a wild hunger to spread from her lower belly in every direction until it pervaded her, leaving nothing untouched. She admitted the truth to herself before she pushed her tongue into the sensitive slit on the steely-hard knob of his penis, causing Vic to grunt sharply.

She did what he wanted because it aroused her, because she wanted to. Vic Savian pitched her into an almost unbearable level of excitement.

With that final thought she leaned forward and gave herself over completely to the sensation of him. Her tongue circled the fleshy head curiously, tracing the hard ridge beneath the full circumference once. Then she stiffened her tongue and polished that smooth knob until it was shiny, coating her tongue in the flavor of him—salty, musky man. Her eyes fluttered closed rapturously as she encircled the girth of his cock with her hand and began to slowly pump the steely hard, straight flesh of the stalk. Her tongue circled, pressed, and fluttered across the head. He felt indescribably good, like distilled power trapped and sheathed in the confinement of taut skin.

She knew perfectly well she was teasing him. She sensed the tension in his lean body, heard his muted grunts. Her eyes opened and she glanced up at him furtively for confirmation—and yes. His handsome mouth pulled tight into a feral snarl. The sight made her clit pinch with excitement.

But still she teased the tiger.

 

 

Vic watched her through narrowed eyelids as her red tongue and tight, pumping hand tortured him. Her tongue was a limber tease, quick and elusive one moment, hard, stiff, and pressing the next. When she slapped at the straining head rapidly while she jacked the stalk with a loose fist, making his cock bob like a thirsty dog’s tongue, he cursed violently and palmed her head.

“Suck on it, Niall, or I’m gonna spank your ass so hard you’re not going to be able to sit tomorrow.”

He could have sworn he saw her give him that witchy little smile before she arrowed his cock into her warm, humid depths. Her tongue pressed up on him sinuously until he was lodged securely against the hard ridge of her upper lip. She applied a steady, eye-crossing suction.

Ah, Christ, he’d been so right. Her mouth was made for sucking cock. Her mouth was made for sucking
his
cock.

His fingers sank down into her soft hair, pressing against her skull as he began to thrust between her lips, subtly at first . . . just tiny electrical pulsations. But her strong suck drew him deeper. So he gave it to her.

Yeah, he was a greedy bastard when it came to Niall.

He rocked against her more strongly, insisting she take him deep. When she did, sliding the tip of his cock into her muscular throat, Vic’s eyes sprang open in ecstasy. He groaned gutturally when she slid him out sinuously until the head of his cock was trapped by tight lips, but before he could protest, she took him deep again. She repeated the process again and again until he became frantic with mounting need.