Page 9 of One Dark Kiss (Grimm Bargains #2)

NINE

Rosalie

P leasure drowns me, and I moan, every nerve in my entire body shooting electricity. Colors and mysterious shapes flash in front of my eyes. I gasp, on fire. Somehow, I m flying. The smell of motor oil battered by pelting rain fills my senses.

A sound awakens me, and my eyelids flip open even as another moan escapes from my chest. I jerk awake, gyrating against fingers playing with my clit.

My pajama bottoms and panties are gone, and I m bare to the cool air.

Oh God, I whisper, the blood rushing through my head so fast, my ears ring.

I partially roll to face Alexei. The breath bursts out of my lungs, and I grab onto his biceps, digging my nails in.

What are you doing? I gasp, my head spinning, my nipples sharpened to fine points beneath the thin camisole top.

Playing. His eyes are liquid coal just lit with flames.

I gulp. Where s the sweatshirt I had worn to bed? Stop.

You don t want me to stop. To punctuate his point, he scrapes his calloused thumb across my clit.

I jolt, head to toe, pleasure ripping through my body. The wetness spilling from me, onto his hand, will embarrass me later. Not now. My traitorous body moves against him, seeking relief. I can t think. You—you said you wouldn t touch me.

Last night, he whispers, sliding another finger inside me. And I didn t.

I m strung tight like a bow about to break. This is wrong. I know it is. Yet my body doesn t care. Something bad has never felt this good. I should stop him. My hands drop from his body.

His chuckle licks along my skin, right before his tongue does the same, marking from my collarbone, up my neck, and over my chin.

You taste delicious. I want more. His fingers scissor inside me, slamming against a spot I m just realizing actually exists.

My eyes roll back, and I whimper, pleasure swamping me.

This isn t fair.

I can t think. Trying to force my brain to work, I note my nails digging into the sheet on one side of my gyrating body and the other into .

.. his bare leg. The muscles are bunched beneath my hand, rough cut and strong.

The length of his cock, even inside his boxers, is heated against the side of my hand. Oh God.

His mouth is against my ear. You ever beg, Rosalie?

No, I hiss, heat flushing from my breasts to my face, no doubt warming his lips.

That s gonna change. He murmurs something else, something I can t grasp. A low rumble in Russian that sounds like a vow. A dangerous one.

Helplessness, especially with a man, is something I ve never felt.

Never allowed myself to feel. A status that had more than one former boyfriend calling me cold and unfeeling.

So much for that brand. Freeing my hand from his thigh, I clamp onto his arm, feeling the tendons shift as he works his magically dangerous fingers inside me.

Stop or I ll scream. My panting might negate the order some.

He bites into my earlobe.

I jolt, my body flushing cold and then hot. Toes to head. That hurt, I whisper, trying to clamp my legs together.

Good. He continues stroking me, his broad hand staying firmly in place.

I m climbing the crest too fast and can t stop. No way can I let him win this. So I suck in air, and that unique and deadly smell of drilling rain into motor oil fills my senses. Sexy and primitive. I yank on his hand. Stop, I hiss.

His fingers slide out of me, and my pussy tries to follow them. She has to get a fucking grip. Not on him. On reality.

Then, as if he s choreographed the move a million times, he shifts, slides one knee against my thigh, and shoves it to the side. Then he moves down me, faster than I can grasp, and his teeth sink into the top of my pubic area.

I squeal and freeze in place, slapping a hand over my mouth. The last thing in the world I want is for one of my boarders to run in here. My body trembles.

You should ve just let me play. His breath is an inferno against my abused and very bare skin. I swim a lot, so I pretty much wax everything. I m regretting that right now. Well, kind of. Now you re going to obey.

The word takes a second to penetrate. The moment it does, I shove against his shoulders with both legs.

He bites me again, this time a little lower. Pain and an electric pleasure zip up to my breasts.

I blink wildly, staring up at the ceiling.

Spread your legs, Rosalie. Now, or I m biting lower.

The words come from far away. Electricity uncoils inside me, deep. I press my lips together so tightly my jaw aches, but I won t beg.

His teeth latch onto my clit.

I yelp and spread both legs before he can bite, holding my breath.

Good girl. A low hum of pleasure rumbles from his mouth as he sucks my clit into his mouth with just enough pressure to have me seeing stars. He slides two fingers, then three, into me, forcing my clit up into his mouth more.

I m swollen in his heated mouth, my body strung tight, right on the edge. One tear leaks out of my eye. A tear of need or fury, I m not sure. I know this is wrong. Also, I know I m about to have the best orgasm of my life.

Then I ll have to kill him. There s no other option.

The thought cheers me finally.

He releases my clit and rests his chin on my cleft. Why are you smiling?

I lose the grin and look down at him. I m plotting your death, I pant.

One of his dark eyebrows rises. His fingers slide out of me.

This is good. I want him to stop. But I don t. Not at all. As I m struggling to find a thought, he flips me onto my stomach and smacks my ass five times.

Hard.

Then he turns me back over and roughly shoves all three fingers inside me again.

I gasp and arch against him, an erotic pain burning through me from both sides. What just happened? He hit me hard enough that I ll wear his palm print for days. Even now, the burning cascades across my butt. My desire spirals even higher. The need is so great it hurts. Deep.

Insolence and disrespect will be handled swiftly. His black eyes hold the fires of hell. I just know it.

Then he dips his head and sucks my clit into his mouth, lashing me with his tongue.

I make an embarrassing sound deep in my throat and throw my head back on my pillow, colors flashing behind my closed eyelids. So many sensations bombard me that I can t breathe. Don t care to try.

His mouth releases me. Say please, Rosie.

Pride and a battered instinct for self-preservation battle with this unreal craving. Pride always wins with me. Fuck you.

The hard smack he delivers to my clit has my body bucking. Pain ... then pleasure. Try again.

I can t take another one of those. I just can t. Please.

Good girl. He smacks me again for good measure, just to show he can.

I hate him.

He nips me with his lips and I jolt. His chuckle rumbles through me, and he licks my clit again, his tongue rough, forcing me back up again.

Even as I climb, I plot his murder. Gun? Knife? I want to throw him off a cliff. Yeah. That s the plan. We ll go hiking, perhaps to talk about the case, and I ll just shove him right over.

Then I forget all about committing a homicide, because those fingers and his way too hot and talented mouth find a rhythm that has me bucking against him.

Just as I m about to explode, he pauses, releases me, and slaps my clit with the heel of his palm. Once and then again. The orgasm starts to take me, and his mouth sucks me in again, his tongue working me like a master.

I grab a pillow and shove it over my face, my body gyrating so hard the headboard protests. Molten lava pours through me, and I try to muffle my screams as the orgasm rips electricity through me with a fine edge of pleasure that can t be real. It s wild and dangerous, and it s owning me.

Then the waves hit, and I m drowning in them, riding out the storm.

With a pathetic whimper I hope he doesn t hear, I come down, throwing the pillow off my face. I m sweaty and trembling, and he s still between my legs. I fight the urge to slap his head, because I can t take another hit to my clit.

With a pleased murmur, he kisses my clit and then looks up. His gaze is raw and intent. All male. With a promise in there, or maybe a threat. Say thank you, Rosalie.

I gulp. Not a bit of me wants to give in. Yet his teeth are right there, as is his hand. Thank you, I say weakly.

He kisses my bare mound again and then stands.

Finally, I clap my thighs together and push away from the bed, standing on very shaky legs. That will never happen again.

His smile lacks humor. Watch yourself.

I take a step back. I m not joking. You do that again, even think of it, and I ll have you arrested. Yet the orgasm had been spectacular. The best. Ever. For sure.

He stands there just in boxers, his ripped and cut body proudly bearing scars. So many. His thick black hair has fallen over his forehead, and the angles in his face are sharper than any blade. His aroused and apparently huge cock is obvious in the boxers. You liked it. I heard you scream.

Did not. I lie.

His arm snakes out to tumble us back onto the bed, and he grips my chin with his thumb and forefinger as he partially covers me with his big body. Say you liked it.

I blink and parts of me quiver. Yeah. Those parts. No. I stare up at his burning black eyes. How am I back under him on the bed? Why hadn t I run to the damn bathroom?

Say it.

My throat dries up. No. My voice wobbles a little and softens as my heart rate kicks into a higher gear. Even my skin feels sensitized. I need to get away from him.

His gaze doesn t soften. Not a bit. I m not that guy, Peaflower.

I try and fail to swallow, trapped in place. Wh-what guy?

The one who ll see your vulnerability and protect it. His finger scrapes roughly across my lips, and somehow, those black eyes darken even more. Deepen. Give me an inch, and I ll swallow all of you. His voice is guttural. Now say it.

Feminine instinct slides through me. Fine. I liked it. When he doesn t even twitch, I sigh. A little. Not a lot. Now get off me before I scream.

He ducks his head and scrapes his whiskers on my delicate cheek.

You ll be screaming soon enough. My name, that is.

With one smooth motion, he releases me and rolls off the bed, landing gracefully on his feet.

Baby, I m going to fuck you hard next time, and you ll feel me forever.

I gave you the truth in the shitty prison, and you made your choice.

Now you re mine, Rosalie. In every way that I want you.

My lungs stutter. The muscles across his bare back, covered in scars, shift easily as he prowls to reach for his shirt tossed carelessly over my pink velvet chair next to a bag showing the top of a sketchpad? You bought a sketchpad?

He squares his shoulders. Yep. I like to draw.

That s intriguing. Shouldn t be but is.

Shaking myself out of it, I roll to the side and flee to my bathroom, shutting the door and locking it. Only when I lean back against the worn wood, my heart thundering, do I hear his soft chuckle from the other room.

The low tenor sounds sadistic.