Page 10 of Rulebreaker

Then she’s pushing down her underwear.

“Fuck,” I growl.

Her mouth hitches up, eyes pools of humor and heat. Why do I have the feeling this woman is going to be the death of me?

“Where was I?” she asks, tapping a finger on her lips.

“Knees,” I order.

She shivers. But complies, and it’s a moment later that I’m stepping forward, undoing the button on my slacks, drawing down the zipper, allowing my dick to pop free.

“Christ,” she whispers. “Look at that.”

I stroke up and down, up and down. Then I hold her gaze. “Suck me.”

The eager way she crawls forward, red lips parting, immediately sucking at the head of my cock, nearly undoes me.

Then she swallows me deep and I bob against the back of her throat.

Fucking hell.

Gripping the strands of her hair, I fuck her mouth slow and steady, intoxicated by the sleek darts of her tongue, the tight heat of her throat, the rough caress of her teeth.

Fucking perfect.

She’s fucking perfect.

Especially when she adds a hand, squeezing tightly, stroking in time to my thrusts.

Her moans vibrate through me.

Those red lips tempt me close to the edge.

Tooclose.

“Enough, Texas,” I order, slowing my thrusts, starting to draw back.

She doesn’t let me, moaning and sucking me deeper, hand moving faster.

I hold still, let her do that for a few moments—because it feels so fucking good—but then I feel the first sparks of my orgasm and know that I’m playing far too close to the flames.

Holding tight to those silken tresses, I draw her off me.

Thepopwhen I spring free nearly kills me.

The lipstick ring around my dick brings me even closer to death.

But it’s when she reaches for me again almost immediately that almost undoes every bit of my control.

Right. Can’t have that.

I bend, tugging her arm at the same time, tossing her over my shoulder. She shrieks, but I don’t stop walking, just carry her into the bedroom of the plane, kick the door closed behind me.

I dump her on the bed, take advantage of the fact that she’s naked and wet and stroke between her legs—not gently, not slowly. I pinch her clit, thrust a finger inside, crawl over her so I can suck at her nipples, can fondle her breasts.

“Atlas!” she cries.

But I don’t stop, just murmur against her breast, “Come on my fingers, Texas.”