Page 31 of Blood Stone

“What?” She didn’t understand why he needed her to do that.

“Pick it up,” he repeated.

She made her gaze focus properly on the mess of crumpled papers on her desk and picked up her cellphone where it lay more or less halfway between her splayed hands.

“Good. Now I can do this.” He picked her up by the waist again, and turned her over with another neat flip. She landed on her back on her desk, her head where the phone had been lying. Her ass rested at the edge of the desk.

Adrian lifted her leg up and rested them on his shoulders, his hands curling over her thighs. Between her partly open thighs, she could see his cock jutting from his jeans. It was as thick and long as she had suspected it to be from the feel of him sliding into her. It gleamed wetly with her juices, and was a dark red, deepening to purple where the blood congested around the tip and edges of the head. The veins pumped with blood as she watched.

The thick end of his cock brushed up against the back of her thighs, making them quiver. But the touch was accidental, for his gaze was on her body. He smoothed one hand down her leg to the crease of her hip. His fingers stroked the flesh there, making her muscles and nerves quiver, for that spot was particularly sensitive. Then he brought his fingertips in wandering circles over to her slit.

“Bare,” he murmured. “I like it.”

One finger slipped into the crease, gently separating her folds.

“I don’t usually come a second time—”

He shook his head. It was a slight shifting of his chin. But she understood he was refuting her.

His finger slipped up against her clit. A featherweight touch. He slid easily through the folds of her flesh because she was so wet.

The touch made her catch her breath, but her nerves were quiet. She always switched off so completely after her climax.

“Really, Adrian...” she began.

“Hush.”

Hush?

She tried to sit up. She had a movie to put together in less than a week, and no staff. And no lead, either, let’s not forget that. And tomorrow she had seven rounds,mano e manowith the son of Scottish lairds, Calum Garret, who was going to eat her ass and take a piece of her soul at the same time if she wasn’t very careful—

Adrian’s hand on her shoulder roughly thrust her back onto the desk. “We’re not done,” he breathed, leaning over her. His eyes were inches from hers. “Stop thinking about your movie for a little while longer, Kate. It’s not going anywhere, and you’ll serve it better if you let me finish with you properly.”

“How did you know...?”

His smile lifted just the corner of his mouth. “You’re you.” He pressed his lips against the nape of her neck and his tongue flickered over her flesh, tasting it. It made her shiver. “Of course you’re thinking about your movie.”

His hands found hers and spread her arms on the desk, over the top of her files. “Grip the sides,” he told her.

She stretched, and could just curl her fingers over the edges of the desk.

“Now, don’t move your hands from there,” Adrian told her. “Instead, concentrate on what my mouth is doing to you. Really focus on it, and how I’m making you feel.” His gaze caught hers. “Or I willmakeyou feel it despite yourself.”

Kate realized her breath had quickened again. Anticipation.Mary mother of god, he’s going to fuck me again, and I’m going to love it.

But she knew she wouldn’t come.

Adrian’s mouth followed the angle of her breast, around the outer edge, surprising her. She hadn’t realized how many sensitive spots she had on the outside of her breast. But his lips and tongue forced gasps and sighs from her as they moved around the lower side of the breast, then on to the other one.

That one was worse, because she was now aware of the sensitive locations and waited for him to reach them. Long before Adrian’s mouth arrived at her breastbone, she was gasping, her arousal fully delivered. Her nipples were hard, sharp tips.

No man had ever spent so much time and attention on her breasts before. Nor had a man spent so much time and not once touched her nipples.

Kate realized she was guiding his head to those aching, unattended peaks when Adrian pulled his face away from her hands. “Put your hands back on the desk, or I’ll tie them there,” he growled.

“With what?” she asked. “You got handcuffs tucked away in those tight jeans of yours?”

He pushed her hands back down onto the desk spread-eagled. “I don’t need ‘em. I’ve got a belt, you’ve got a belt. Leather is impossible to break, and with the knots I’ll tie them in you’ll never get out of them. So keep your bloody hands on the desk, or I’ll keep them there for you.”