The Professional Part 2 by Kresley Cole

see you like this?” he asked as I shimmied from my skirt.
    “I might.” Off came my bra.
    “My little exhibitionist.” Just his rumbling voice had my nipples budding. “Are you a voyeur as well?”
    Considering my wee addiction to porn, I had to say, “Odds are.”
    “Don’t remove your heels and thigh-highs—I’m going to fuck you with those on.”
    I shivered at his words, reaching for my thong, the last item he’d let me slip off. I reveled in his heavy breaths as I inched the scrap of lace down to my ankles, stepping from it.
    “Turn around so I can see what’s mine,” he commanded me.
    As ever, any hint of his dominance sent a flutter through me. I slowly turned. Though he was still dressed, I flaunted my naked attributes for him.
    He looked mesmerized, his brows drawn tight, lips parted. Relishing his obvious pleasure, I squared my shoulders and cocked a hip out. “Like what you see, Siberian?”
    “And it’s all for me alone. Come.”
    With a sassy grin, I sauntered to the bed, climbing up to walk on my knees toward him.
    “Straddle me.”
    I situated one knee on each side of his hips and laid my palms against the high headboard—which put my crotch right before his face. Positioned like this, our gazes locked. His expression dared me to look away as he leaned forward to flick his tongue out. I gasped at the hard lash he gave my clit.
    He did it again, burying his face deeper, not bothering to hide the fact that he was inhaling my scent. I raked my fingers into his ruffled black hair, rocking forward for more of his carnal mouth.
    He licked my bud, tasting it till it was agonizingly swollen. His groans joined my moans as he ate me wetly, loudly—flicking and sucking with abandon until everything between my legs was sopping.
    I perceived a droplet of my moisture trailing down my inner thigh, caught by the lacy garter-top of my hose. With a growl, he cleaned the lace with his tongue, sending my arousal spiraling. Then he set back in, ordering me, “Play with your nipples. Roll them between your fingers.”
    As I played, he spread me wider, nursing the hood of my clit until my legs trembled and my toes curled in my kitten heels. “Oh, God, Sevastyan, I’m close.”
    Right when I was on the verge, he broke away with a sweet kiss.
    I peered down with confusion. “But . . . but you can’t stop.”
    “Just did, pet.” As he laid me back on the bed, I sputtered a protest . . . that fell mute when he rose to begin stripping. He made short work of his clothes, as if he didn’t want to miss a nanosecond of this.
    I gazed on adoringly, riveted to his body moving, all ruthless hardness. Each of those hollows and rises had known my lips. The gunshot graze on his arm was almost healed, another bravely earned scar to join the rest of them.
    Another mark for me to kiss.
    Back in the bed, he maneuvered himself between my legs, fisting his shaft, aiming between my sodden curls. Even after all the times he’d taken me, I still went wide-eyed when he delved the head inside. He took care with his size, but I’d only been doing this for a few days.
    “Any more protests?” he grated as he eased home.
    I arched to him, sighing, “All good here.”
    As he began to thrust, I clutched the bedspread on both sides of my head. I saw his gaze flick from my hands, to my eyes, then back to my hands. When I stretched my arms over my head and crossed my wrists, his lids went heavy, and I felt his shaft pulse inside me.
    “Don’t hold back, Sevastyan.”
    “Not holding back.”
    “Don’t you want to pin me down? Stop giving me pleasure at the expense of your own!”
    He cast me a look like I was insane. “You think this isn’t pleasurable for me? It’s everything I can do not to come!”
    “Then pin me down hard—because I need it.”
    “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, bending down to kiss me, tonguing me with my own taste. He brushed my nipples over and over, then trailed his hand to