Page 4 of Maneater (The Mavens #1)

This is so far out of character for me. Usually, I’m all talk, no action. All flirting with no payoff. God, I can’t remember the last time I went on a real date that wasn’t set up for work, much less the last time I kissed a man.

But right now, I want this man to prove to me he has the skill.

His gaze burns on me for a long moment before finally breaking, reaching for his phone.

He taps on it a few times, then waits until it dings once before tapping the screen and sliding it into the pocket of his pants.

That’s when he stands up, pushing his chair in.

His chin tips toward Carrie. “Mind watching my seat for me? I gotta go into Dante’s office for a bit. ”

“Not at all,” she says with a smile. Disappointment fills me, since by the time he gets back, I know I’ll have made the big girl decision of heading out and going home because tomorrow will be a busy day.

“It was nice to—” I start, but then his hand is on my wrist, thick, long fingers wrapping around it. I gasp as he tugs, pulling me up and out of my chair. His breath coasts along my lips as I stand, our bodies mere inches apart from one another before he speaks.

“Come with?”

I can’t think of a good response, not when barely two words and the feel of his skin on mine have my mind short-circuiting and heat spiraling through me.

“Okay,” I whisper, and then I’m following Rowan through the bar.

We move quickly as he pulls me past a small dance floor and tall tables in dark corners toward a part of the high-end bar and nightclub I’ve never ventured into.

“Do you work here or something?” I ask with a laugh.

It might just be the lingering rush of endorphins from a closed case or the liquor, but either way, I feel giddy.

“Or something,” he says, looking over his shoulder at me. I lift an eyebrow. “The owner of this place is a friend of mine.”

Finally, we move through a door, and he closes it behind us before pushing me against the solid wood with his body. There’s a low light on the desk, but that’s it, leaving both of us cast in shadows.

“Is that supposed to impress me?” I ask, and his face is close to mine. He stares at me hungrily, his gaze moving between my eyes and my lips, a small smile tipping the edges of his own.

“I feel like you’re not an easy woman to impress, Josie.”

“Seems like all of your obsessing over me has paid off a bit.”

“I’m not obsessing over you,” he lies.

“Sure you aren’t, baby.” I don’t have much time to revel in the flash of pleasure and heat that lights his face at my words because then his lips are on mine, and the world slows.

Every bit of my focus drops to where we meet, to where his tongue glides along my bottom lip, a polite request to open, which I oblige too quickly.

When his tongue touches mine, my arms lift, looping around his neck as I groan.

It’s a full-body experience, the way he feels pressed against me, the way my mind quiets, the way he tastes, the throaty sound of approval that comes from his chest as he kisses me.

His hand moves, gripping my hip and pushing his hips into mine.

He breaks the kiss, his lips move to the spot beneath my jaw, and he presses them there before nipping my ear. My head falls back with a light thud, my eyes drooping with pleasure.

“How’s that whiskey you hate so much taste now that it’s on my tongue?”

I groan, my hips shifting to try and get some kind of relief from the need quickly building in me, and a deep chuckle rumbles through him.

“It’s an acquired taste, I suppose,” I murmur. “I haven’t quite decided yet how I feel about it.”

“Give me a few minutes, I can guarantee you’ll love the taste when I’m done with you.”

I roll my eyes and force back another moan as his hips rock into mine.

“You’re so fucking obnoxious,” I say as his lips move down my neck. “And I don’t do arrogant.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes.” But still, I groan as his lips latch onto my neck, sucking at the sensitive skin over my pulse. My dress hikes up as my leg lifts to wrap around him, moving to press my hips tighter against his, to grind and get some kind of friction, and get closer when I feel it.

He’s already hard.

Fuck.

I want him.

“Fucking wet,” he groans, his hand sliding over my ass and under my dress before his fingers shift between my legs, sliding up and along the seam of my panties.

“Please,” I whisper, my eyes fluttering shut, shock rolling through my system at how turned on I am. It’s never like this. I’ve never been so turned on by a man that I lose all common sense, let him pull me into a room in a bar, and beg him to ease the ache inside of me.

I don’t have time to overthink it, though, because his hand is moving to my front before his fingers tuck behind the seam of my underwear and back down until he’s cupping me.

My leg falls to the ground to steady myself, though he’s holding me in place, and I moan again, my hips pressing into his hand.

“Is this what you want? You want my fingers inside of you? Or do you want my cock?” I bite back another please and smile up at him with hooded eyes.

“You have to prove yourself worthy before you fuck me, Mr.—” I pause, realizing I don’t actually know his last name.

“Fisher,” he says, then slides a finger into my wet pussy.

“But you can call out Rowan when you come.” Then the finger moves out, and I mewl at the loss.

A low chuckle leaves his lips as he shifts his hand out of my panties.

Before I can protest, I understand his purpose: his hand is shifting up to my hip, hooking under the band of them.

Then he’s bending to tug down my thong, silently instructing me to lift one foot and then the other to step out of them before tossing them somewhere behind him.

Finally, he’s pressed up against me again, my dress up to my waist now as his hand shifts back to my wet center.

I hold my breath, my eyes fluttering closed as he slides a single finger into me before tightening around it as he crooks it inside.

He gifts me with a few exquisitely slow pumps before sliding out to rub my clit in slow, unrushed circles.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” I moan, hoping I keep the shock of that development from my words. “Make me come, Rowan.” His fingers tighten on my hip at the use of his name.

“Is that what you need? Me to prove myself before I get the pleasure of fucking you?” I smile then, all drooping eyelids and satisfied lips, before nodding.

“Exactly. I’m not wasting my time with a man who doesn’t know how to make me come.”

“Challenge accepted,” he says, lips moving to my neck to suck.

He slides two fingers into me and starts fucking me, the wet sound of my pussy and our heavy breaths the only sounds in the room.

It comes quick, the pleasure of it, heat starting in my belly, then blooming in my back as he works me as if he already knows everything about my body, every move that will pull me closer to the edge.

When he adds his thumb to my clit, my back arches, my hands on his neck pulling him closer, needing purchase as I call out his name and come on his fingers.

It rolls through me, fast and hard, and his fingers continue to move inside of me as it does, pulling every last drop of pleasure from my body.

“Okay,” I say once they slow, panting and with a bit of a disbelieving laugh in the word. “Skills proven.”

And then some. My body is still singing with bliss, my heart still racing, and despite the orgasm, I already want more.

He lets out a dark chuckle of his own, a shake of his head that has my entire pussy tensing once more.

“That was just the start, Josie.” His hand lifts, wet fingers moving to my lips as I stare at him with lust and need. “Clean these.”

The idea of tasting myself on a man has never been something I thought was hot, but my fucking God, when he slides his fingers between my lips, when my tongue tastes the salty, musky flavor of myself on his thick, calloused fingers, remembering how they stretched me and made me come quicker than ever before just moments before, I moan.

His arrogant smile comes out again, and heat rips through me at the mere look. This doesn’t normally do it for me, this thinking he’s got me figured out, thinking he has me in the palm of his hand, but for some reason, with Rowan, it doesn’t feel like a show. Instead, it’s like a game .

But two can play, and god, I love to win. With a cat-like smile, I shift down to my knees, keeping my eyes on his.

“What are you?—”

“Your turn,” I say, eager for this almost more than I was for him to touch me. The groans he made while making me come were hot. I can only imagine the ones he’ll make when he’s halfway down my throat.

My hand moves to the bulge in his slacks, palming the thick, hot length of him.

He’s hard and huge, that much I can tell.

I want to unzip and free him, but with the way he’s looking at me, I want to tease him even more.

Moving my hand down, I cup his balls through his slacks before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to where the head of his cock is.

“Don’t tease me, Josie,” he murmurs, his hands moving to my hair, pushing it back behind my shoulders. “Be a good girl and take my cock out and then wrap those pretty lips around it.”

My pussy tightens again despite just having come, and I know my breaths are coming through parted, kiss-swollen lips. I want that. I want his cock in my mouth, his hands in my hair, his praise filling my ears. Eagerly, I move a hand to his zipper and start to move it down.

And then his phone rings.

“Fuck,” he groans, his body stilling.

“What?” I ask, my hand continuing to move the zipper down. The phone continues its shrill call from his pocket, and his head falls back to look at the ceiling with another pained groan.

“I have to get that.” My eyes snap up to him, and like a child who knows she’s about to not get her way, I put my hand over his dick, palming it once more. It twitches beneath my hand.

“What? No. No, you don’t. Ignore it.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t. It’s my emergency line.” His fingers slide out of my hair, and he steps back. Without thinking, I mewl in protest, shoulders dropping as I pout.

Pouting.

Me, Josephine Montgomery. Pouting for a man.

What the fuck is happening to me?

“Trust me,” he says. “I hate this even more than you do.” The ringing stops as he steps away, and I give him a hopeful look. My body is humming with need, and I think the only person who will be able to sate it is standing right in front of me. Maybe the emergency is over, maybe?—

But then the ringing starts again, and his hand is in front of me, offering to help me up. I don’t miss that it’s the one that was in me not long ago as I take it with a defeated sigh.

At least I got an orgasm out of it.