Page 21 of Devilish Bully (Steamy Latte Reads Collection #3)

THE ACCOUNTANT

KENDALL

If I wasn’t fired before, I will be now.

Not wanting to make a scene or pull Myra away from having fun, I’m in my suite lining up our suitcases.

One packed, one to go…

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Lucian’s voice makes me look up.

“Home,” I say. “After I pack up the rest of me and Myra’s things. I’ll get us an Uber so you don’t have to worry about bothering one of the drivers.”

“Hmmm.” He shuts the door. “Why?”

“Because I’m sure you’re pissed at me for getting involved at a level where I don’t belong, and you need time to process things, so—” My sentence ends on his lips.

As his mouth claims mine, he pushes the luggage handle from my hand, sending the suitcase to the floor.

The kiss deepens, wild and consuming, and then his hand slides up my thigh, pulling my skirt higher until there’s nothing between us but heat.

“Lucian—” I start, but the rest dissolves into a gasp as his mouth trails down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. His fingers slip beneath my lace, teasing, testing, until my body arches against his touch.

And then he replaces his hand with his mouth.

The first sweep of his tongue shatters me.

My head falls back against the pillows, one hand tangling in his hair as the other fists in the sheets for balance.

He holds me open, steady, relentless, devouring me like he’s starving and I’m the only thing that can feed him.

The heavy curtains muffle my broken cries, the dim lamplight catching on the sweat already slicking my skin.

Every flick of his tongue, every deep pull, builds higher and higher until my voice is echoing his name in pleas I can’t stop.

When release crashes through me, it tears everything else away. My body trembles, my thighs tighten around him, and still he doesn’t stop. He drags me through another climax, and another, until I’m wrung out and shaking, my dress askew, my breath uneven.

I barely recover before he shifts, pushing me forward, his mouth against my ear. “Not finished,” he murmurs, his belt already loose, his body pressing hard and insistent against me.

The first thrust drives a cry from my throat. The second steals the rest of my breath. He moves with ruthless precision, every snap of his hips branding me from the inside out.

It’s chaos, it’s madness, it’s the best sex of my life, and when I break again, it’s with him buried deep inside me, pulling me with him into something that feels far too much like surrender.

I should hate him for this. I should push him away. But my body betrays me every time, and the way he says my name—like it belongs to him—makes me want more.

When it’s over, I collapse against his chest, both of us drenched in sweat and silence, the night pressing close outside the balcony doors.

“You’ll stay the rest of the weekend.” His voice is rough in my ear.

“That didn’t sound like a question.”

“Good catch.” He rolls me on top of him, his gaze daring me to argue. “It wasn’t.”