Dark Seduction (Vampire Royals of New York #2) - Sarah Piper Page 0,27

the instant pressure of his impossibly strong grip on her arms, and then the room spun, the floor disappearing beneath her feet. When she finally found her footing again, she was clear across the dining room, hands braced against the sideboard, Dorian standing ominously behind her.

He leaned close and grabbed the edge of the mahogany, caging her between his arms from behind and meeting her gaze in the antique mirror.

She glared at him, her own anger rising to meet his. “Whatever you think you know about me? I promise you, you’re not even scratching the surface.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“Then you can very much fuck off.”

“Tell me, Charlotte,” he said, voice low and menacing in her ear, so fucking sexy it made her thighs clench. “What’s a suitable punishment for a liar and a con? For a woman who entered my life under false pretenses, and continues to stand here and lie to me in my own home, even now?”

He fisted the back of her waistband, knuckles brushing the skin of her back, sending a hot rush up her spine.

Charley swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. For all his anger—and hers too—it was obvious they both still wanted each other. They were like two planets orbiting the same star, set on a collision course that could only end in a fiery, monumental explosion, yet neither seemed willing—or even able—to change direction.

“I could tear these clothes from your body and claim you right here,” he said. “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He slid his hand around to the front of her jeans, deftly unfastening the button. Then, dipping his fingers into her underwear and sliding over her clit, “You’re already wet for me. Already imagining my cock slamming into you from behind, owning you.”

“Please…” Charley was hot and breathless, her skin flush beneath the heavy sweater, her core trembling for his touch.

“Please?” he repeated, dipping his finger lower, teasing her entrance. “Are you begging me for something, Charlotte?”

“Yes. I…” She blinked rapidly, the last of her anger melting away as his fingers worked their devious magic. It was so easy to submit to him, to give him back the control he so desperately wanted. “Please, Mr. Redthorne.”

With a swift tug, he pulled out his hand and yanked her jeans and underwear down to her knees, exposing her completely. In the mirror, she watched him lift a hand, and she bit her lip and held her breath, anticipation smoldering inside.

The punishment came hard and fast—two swift cracks against her flesh that echoed across the vacant dining room, unleashing her cry of pleasure.

He palmed her ass, rubbing away the sting as he nipped at her ear. “I always knew you were a bad girl.”

“I… I am,” she whispered, her head spinning. She needed to put an end to this before things went any further—to tell him the rest of the horrible story he’d yet to discover. But his presence was so overwhelming and intense, she couldn’t think straight.

And God, how she wanted this.

But it wasn’t right. Not like this. Not when she knew what had to be done.

“Dorian, there’s more. I need to tell you the—”

“Shh.” He reached for the button on his pants, quickly unfastening it and freeing his cock. A swift jerk of his hips, and the smooth tip slid between her thighs from behind, teasing her.

Close, but not quite close enough.

A soft moan escaped her lips. She couldn’t help it.

“Is this what you want?” he whispered into her hair, his hand locking around her hip. The front of his suit jacket brushed against her backside, a cool contrast to the heat building between her thighs. “Me, fucking you hard and fast, one last time?”

“Y-yes.”

“Say it. Tell me what you want. Demand it, Charlotte, and we shall see if the monster bends to your will.”

“Please, Mr. Redthorne,” she whispered. “I want you to fuck me one last time.”

A slow grin slid across his lips, his eyes glinting with malice and desire and anger and loss, all of it burning bright.

“Then I will fuck you, enchantress. I will mark you. I will utterly ruin you for anyone else—mortal and immortal alike, from here to Manhattan to the very gates of hell. But I will not fall under your spell again, nor turn my back to offer a softer place for your treacherous blade.” He fisted her hair, his whispered warnings falling across the back of her neck and making her shiver. “Open the drawer—top left.”

With a trembling hand, she followed his

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