Struck from the Record by K.A. Linde Page A

thinking, I’d turn around and walk away because it’s never fucking happening.”
    Asher took one more look at Andrea, gritted his teeth, and then disappeared.
    Good riddance.
    Andrea smacked Clay on the arm, bringing him back to reality. “Why did you have to do that?”
    “What do you mean, why did I have to do that?” Clay asked. “He can’t have you, Andrea.”
    “He already knows that I don’t want to date him, Clay. He knows. I told him after the attack. I had no interest in him anymore. You didn’t have to rub salt in the wound.”
    He dipped his head real close to her again. His nose brushed against hers, and he ran a hand down her back. “You’re wrong about that. That was exactly what I needed to do because, now, he knows why you ditched his ass. And that you’re with me, Andrea. With me.”
    He kissed her again, full on the mouth. Something had possessed him when he saw Asher and the way he looked at Andrea. Something had crawled straight out of Clay’s chest and breathed fire.
    But the look on her face now brought it all back into perspective. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her look at him like that. Like putty in his hands. Complete and total adoration. Guess she didn’t mind that he’d put his foot down, which was good because he wouldn’t have been able to stop even if he’d wanted to.

    That night, they didn’t even make it back to their house in the suburbs. Andrea’s place was closer, and he didn’t even care at this point. He just wanted to be with her. They stumbled through the door, and Clay hoisted her into his arms and went straight to her bedroom.
    She sank into the down comforter with a sigh. “What you said back there,” she murmured.
    He stripped out of his suit. “What did I say?”
    “That I’m with you.”
    “Of course you’re with me,” he insisted.
    He reached for her black dress and slid it off her body, finding her without underwear and only in a skimpy black bra. She flicked it off and tossed it across the bedroom.
    “Come here.” She crooked her fingers at him, and he obliged.
    He had been fantasizing about sliding his dick inside her body ever since he’d seen her in that fucking dress at the gallery. Plus, he was just so fucking proud of her. He didn’t know how much money she had made tonight, but it didn’t even matter with that smile on her face.
    He started at her knee, leaving a trail of kisses up her inner thigh. He blew hot on her most sensitive area before moving up her stomach and to her tits. Fuck, he loved her tits. He flicked his tongue over one as he took the other between his fingers.
    She moaned, wrapping her legs around him and drawing him closer. “Oh, Clay, I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
    “Fuck, me, too.”
    “I just want you inside me,” she purred.
    “Plenty of time for that.”
    She shivered as he switched to the other nipple, his hands roaming her body and taking in every curve.
    “Say that you’re mine,” she whispered.
    “You’re mine,” he repeated against her skin.
    She laughed softly. “No. Say that I’m yours.”
    “I’m yours.”
    “Oh, yes, I love the sound of that.”
    “If you keep crying out like that, I’m not going to be able to control myself.”
    “Then, don’t,” she said.
    She positioned herself against his cock and rubbed up and down on him. It was fucking hot and showed him how wet she already was.
    “Fuck,” Clay groaned.
    He aligned their bodies and then thrust into her. She moaned loudly, only making him push harder into her. God, she felt amazing. Her nails dug into his back. Their bodies smacked together.
    It wasn’t like this with anyone else. Andrea seemed to know his body as well as he knew hers.
    He slammed into her over and over again. She tilted her head up to stare into his eyes. Something was stirring in those eyes. Her face was awash with passion and desire, but still, there was something else.
    “Oh, Clay,” she groaned. “Finish me off, baby.”
    And he