Page 1 of Broken Vows (Empire City Syndicate #2)

MELINDA

"Tell me your name," he growls against my throat, pinning me against the penthouse window.

My breath catches when his lips crash into mine, his tongue teasing for entry.

"No." I breathe the word into his mouth. The glass chills my back. City lights flash faintly behind me.

"Stubborn." His voice is low, gruff, masculine.

His hands grip my thighs—big, rough, possessive—and I don’t pull away.

I want more, so I straddle his lap, scrubs shoved down to one ankle, dangling like a last chance to escape. To come to my senses. But I won’t.

It’s been too long. I need this.

His belt is unfastened and pressing into my hip. "I like a strong, stubborn woman."

"Good," I gasp as his fingers find the inside of my thigh. "Because I don't give anything I don’t want to. Especially not to strangers."

He laughs, rough and low, his breath brushing my cheek. "Stranger? Baby, we're way past strangers now."

His cock presses hard against me. God, I want him deeper already.

We never made it past the front hallway to the bedroom.

I’m a mess.

My coat is half on, half off. His hands are everywhere now, rough and greedy on my skin.

"What do you want?" I gasp, already grinding against him, too far gone to stop.

"Everything." His voice is raw whiskey and sin. "What are you running from?"

"Everything." I thread my fingers beneath his button-up, nails dragging over a brutal scar carved into his shoulder, just beneath the collarbone. He shudders—not in pain. Ecstasy, maybe. "What about you?"

"Same." He tilts my face up, studies me with glinting eyes. "You want to be ruined tonight, baby?"

"Fuck, yes." I say it out loud, and his pupils dilate.

"Good girl." His fingers spread my thighs wider, teasing me until I squirm. "Tell me how you like it."

"Don't be gentle." I bite his earlobe. "I won’t break."

"You like it rough," he murmurs, pushing my panties aside, gliding two fingers through my slick folds. "You're so fucking wet for me."

I groan, arching against him. "More."

"Greedy." Then he kisses me, forcing me to stay with him. I gasp when he rubs circles against my clit, then sinks two fingers deep.

"God, yes—don't stop."

"I want to taste you first," he says, watching my face melt in pleasure.

"Then do it fast." I'm panting now, hips grinding against his hand. "Stop talking and?—"

He flips me beneath him before I can finish the sentence, dropping to his knees on the marble. "Bossy little thing, aren't you?"

"You have a problem with that?" I try to close my knees as he drags off my scrubs and panties, heat rushing to my face.

"Open." His voice is pure command. "All the way. Let me see you."

"The windows?—"

"Shhh…You're mine tonight. I don’t care if the whole city sees.”

His mouth is on me, and I stop thinking. His tongue, merciless.

"Oh God, Vince—" His name—real or not, who the hell knows—tears from my throat like a wanton prayer.

"That's it," he whispers against my slick skin. "Say my name like you mean it."

"Please—"

"Please what, baby? Use your words."

"Don't stop. Please don't fucking stop."

He fucks me harder with his fingers, curling them until I cry out. "Fuck, you taste like mine."

I come so hard I almost black out. My breasts shudder as my body tenses. He stays with me through it, only freeing me when I'm limp and shaking.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, standing, cock already out—thick and ready.

He lifts me bodily, spreads me wide over the couch. "Tell me to stop. Otherwise, I not stopping with you tonnight."

I glare up at him. "If you do, I'll kill you myself."

"There's my vicious girl." He plants a hand on my throat, pinning me, eyes burning. "This what you need? Someone who won't coddle you?"

"Yes." The word is barely a whisper.

He slides inside me in one brutal stroke. "Fuck, you feel?—"

"Perfect," I finish, wrapping my legs around his back. "You feel perfect."

The rhythm is obscene. Desperate. Hungry. "You like it rough?" he growls in my ear.

"Harder." I bite his shoulder, marking him. "I want everything.”

"Jesus, you're going to kill me." But he pounds into me, the couch shifting under us.

"Good," I gasp. "We'll die together."

"Fuck, baby—" He comes hard, and I follow him over the edge.

For a long moment we stay tangled up together.

"What's your name?" he asks again, softer now.

"Does it matter?" I'm already reaching for my clothes. Just because he gave me a name doesn’t mean this stranger deserves to know mine.

"It matters to me." I hear the way he says it. I ignore it.

I pause at the door, looking back—rumpled. Satisfied. Still dangerous. "Maybe that's why I can't tell you."

"Will I see you again?"

"Don’t count on it." I turn and walk away.