Page 131 of Scarred Angel

I don’t say a word because words will only slow me down. I move around Remi, and before Valentina can blink, I’ve got my hands on her waist, scooping her up. Maybe tossing her over my shoulder at her job—twice now—isn’t the height of professionalism.

But I don’t give a single good goddamn.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll close up,” Remi calls after us, laughter in her voice because she knows exactly what this is.

Valentina twists just enough to look at me upside down, her palms braced on my back. “I’m starting to wonder why I even have legs,” she teases as I take the stairs two at a time, having no patience for an elevator.

“I needed to see you,” I growl. “Couldn’t wait.”

“I thought you said you’d be tied up?”

I shoulder open her office door, kick it shut behind us, and swipe my arm across her desk. Papers, pens, and her tablet scatter across the floor in a clatter I don’t even look at.

“Consider this my lunch break, beautiful.” My hands slide down her thighs, gripping tight. “And I’m fucking starving.”

Her fingers slide into my hair, nails grazing my scalp, and she laughs—breathless, dizzy—as I tug her pants down her legs.

“I thought it was important.”

I hook my hands under her knees and pull her to the edge of the desk.

“It was,” I murmur against her thigh. “Still is.”

Her legs part for me without hesitation, like her body’s been waiting for this since the second I walked in. My tongue slides along her slit, a low, helpless sound falling out of her.

“So you rushed out of an important meeting just to eat my pussy?”

I glance up at her through my lashes, mouth still pressed against skin, and let a slow smile break across my face.

“No, I came to fuck it too.”

I grip her thighs and pull her even closer, tongue plunging back into her before she can finish her gasp.

Her spine arches, fingers desperate against my scalp as I lick her again, slower and cruelly thorough.

“That good, huh?” She throws her head back, and from this angle—her body bowed, throat exposed, hair spilling over the edge of the desk—she looks like a damn painting. A masterpiece.

Behind her, through the huge pane of glass that overlooks the gun range below, I catch a full bird’s-eye view of people moving from lane to lane. Targets being shredded, casings clattering on concrete. It’s the perfect white noise under her moans.

“I’d crawl through fire to have you dripping on my tongue. So no, it’s not good. It’s fucking addictive.”

That does something to her. Valentina grabs my face with both hands and drags me up, her fingers firm on my jaw.

“Addictive, huh? Well, then let’s not be greedy.”

With a slow, sultry grin, she licks the taste of herself from my skin, over the corner of my mouth, then seals her lips over mine.

“Share,” she whispers into my mouth. “All of it.”

My breath catches as she slides to the other side, licking the sheen from my skin, jaw to cheekbone.

She pulls back just enough to wickedly say, “Good boy.”

Something inside me snaps, and I grab her waist, hauling her closer, my mouth crashing back onto hers with a hunger that borders on violent.

And now she’s shaking in my arms again, her body remembering exactly where we left off. I lightly shove her against the desk, my mouth back on her cunt.

“Look down,” I rasp between licks. “If they only knew what the owner is up to.”