own voice. “Need you so much.”
Suddenly, as if her words had broken something in him, Bane flipped her over and onto her back on the long, leather seat.
“Yes. Now.” His eyes were glowing blue flames, and when his lips parted, she could see the tips of his fangs, which should have terrified her, but instead the sight pushed her completely over the edge of reason into insanity.
“Now,” she demanded. “Take me, do me, fuck me, now, now, now, please, oh my God, please, now.”
His smile was so brilliant—so wicked—that she wondered it didn’t light up the world.
“You said please,” he growled.
And then he took hold of her shirt—his shirt that she wore—with both hands and ripped it apart. Buttons flew everywhere, but he paid them no attention, because he was staring at her breasts the way a man dying of thirst in the desert might stare at water.
“You’re a goddess,” he breathed, and he captured the tip of one breast in his mouth and licked it and sucked it and blew air on her nipple until she wanted to scream or beg, until she was twisting and squirming in the seat.
And then he did the same to the other breast, using his clever fingers on the one no longer getting attention from his mouth, pinching and teasing and stroking her nipple until she thought she might orgasm on the spot.
“Bane, Bane, Bane,” she panted, helplessly aroused, helplessly jerking her body against his, where he held her firmly down. She couldn’t move, couldn’t reach his cock, which she was desperate to get her hands on, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. She could only feel, and feel, and feel, until she thought she might die from the pleasure of it.
When he lifted his head, an expression of such sheer male triumph was stamped on his face that she almost laughed, but then he reached into her pocket and snatched out the knife she’d forgotten she’d stolen—borrowed—and held it up between them.
“I never liked that tie, anyway,” he growled, and then he sliced through his tie that she’d been using as a belt, tossed the knife on the floor, and yanked the pants off her body so fast she almost didn’t know what was happening.
“Are you wet for me, Dr. St. Cloud?” His voice was dark seduction itself, and she found herself caught almost hypnotically in a haze of desire that was far more potent than any compulsion he’d tried to use on her.
“Yes,” she whispered. “So wet. Please…please.” She didn’t even know how to ask for what she wanted, only that she wanted it so very badly. “Please.”
But when she tried to reach for his belt, he stopped her, and now she heard the rasp of an almost-feral desire in his voice. “No. Right now, I’m going to put my mouth on you and lick the honey from your body. I’m going to tease you and taste you and suck on your plump little clit until you scream my name, and then I’m going to make you come again and again and again.”
She almost came just listening to him talk about what he was going to do to her. “I—oh—”
He smiled so wickedly that she knew she’d somehow fallen into a trap. “But it’s like your hair, Ryan.”
“My—my hair?”
“I need your consent. Tell me yes. Ask me to do it. Ask me to taste you. Ask me to suck on you until you come in my mouth.”
“I—I—I can’t…I’ve never—” She almost cried with frustration. She needed him now, but could she make herself say such things? She’d never…
He reached down between their bodies and slid one finger into the wet heat of her body, and she arched up off the seat in reaction, crying out.
“Well? Tell me, Ryan. What do you want?” He moved his finger, sliding up, spreading her wetness on her clit, but pulling his hand away when she cried out again.
“Tell me,” he demanded. “What do you want?”
“I—I want you,” she moaned. “Yes, all of that. Taste me. Suck me. Make me come. Make me scream. Please, please, please.”
But, by the third “please,” he’d put his mouth on her, and coherent thought fragmented into shards of such exquisite pleasure she thought she might die from it. His tongue was a revelation, and his fingers delved inside her, stroking reaction after reaction from her, until she was shivering and moaning, mindlessly whipping her head back and forth on the seat.
In the car—we’re still in the car, some remnant of sanity tried