Smoke and Mirrors by Ella Skye

sparks of an almost-orgasm.
    “Fucking hell.” His hands changed positions, pulling me back so he could take my mouth with harsh tongue thrusts. I could taste the wine on him, knowing it wasn’t enough to have altered his personality.
    We would both remember tonight. And I couldn’t decide which scared me more.
    Then the thought fell away as he ratcheted our kiss into the feverish, all-consuming type. My hips began to move with the never-ending thrust of his tongue, and I heard him move from breathless to heaving gasps. We dropped off the rocking bench onto our knees.
    His mouth pulled away from mine just enough to give him room to speak. His thumbs ran twin paths down the length of my moaning throat. “You’re fucking beautiful.” His words vibrated through my parted lips, down through my gasping throat and into my lungs, where they bounced to all parts of my being, reiterating his compliment with each harsh beat of my heart. Growls were coming soft and low from his throat as he slid a finger beneath my bra. His dark eyes were ancient in their lineage. Rome afire.
    I felt those hands caress my sides until they were at the small of my back. Slowly, he lowered me to the marble floor, draping himself over me, careful to keep his weight on elbow and hip.
    My hand worked at the shirt barely covering one of his shoulders as his hand runched my dress higher and higher until his fingers slid past my thong.
    •   •   •
    Brad jerked his torso to better help her with his straitjacket of a shirt. “Fucking rip it,” he managed, before his mind went blank at the feel of his fingers within her.
    Her hips bucked, leaving his cock jealous as hell of his hand. Somehow, she got hold of the back of his shirt and yanked it over his head. There was a loud shredding sound, and he felt victorious as the brush of her uncovered nipple registered against his own.
    There was a primal wildness between them that defied reason. She was like some devious goddesses come down from Olympus to fuck with him.
    “My Artemis,” he whispered against her throat as she spread wide the front of his jeans.
    There was a flutter of her moan beneath his mouth and then the breath-snatching feel of her fingers around his cock. He shoved himself into her grip and felt her thumb ride once more over the slick head of it. “Wait,” he growled, not wanting to come in her hand.
    She tightened her grip and he reconsidered, thinking spilling himself across that sexy stomach of hers wouldn’t be the worst hand dealt his ego.
    She laughed, low and throaty. “Beat you to it.” Before he could think of what that meant, she had rolled them both to the side, leaving him nudged up against the wet heat of her core.
    Her hair was running riot over both of them, a loose curl coiling over his wrist like a living handcuff. He wanted to be chained to her. Tied. Bound. Whatever it took so he never had to be without her.
    The thought was a fucking scary one.
    Until he forgot how to think when her hand slid beneath the tight pull of his jeans over the curve of his buttocks. She threw a leg over his hip and pushed him inside her.
    His whole body twitched and thrashed as she climbed him, her legs on either side of his hips as she came to rest above him. He was in deep. Then, impossibly deeper, as she rocked her hips, pushing off his heaving chest with the flat of her palms. Her frock was fucked, leaving her curves to spill out and tease his mind as well as the rest of him.
    He felt his jaw clench and stomach muscles bunch as he met her thrusts. “Can’t control –” It was out before he knew the words had formed.
    She slid downward, her lips brushing his, and let him roll her until he was the one on top. He kicked up the pace and her eyes went black with passion.
    Suddenly, a cold fist wrapped itself around his heart. He tried not to think about Sanchez, about what he’d do if the bastard touched her. Instead, he drove into her with every last bit of strength he