Reading Online Novel

Dirty Aristocrat(110)



He frowns, picks up the bottle and refills both our glasses. ‘Where are you from, Lily?’

‘I’m a runaway kid who didn’t make it good, OK?’

He didn’t seem even the slightest bit affected by all the alcohol he was consuming. ‘You’ve made it just fine.’

‘Not many people would agree with you.’

‘Doesn’t matter what anybody else thinks. You did fine.’

I finish my drink and put the glass down with a thud. ‘I’m a stripper, Jake?’

He chugs his down, refills our glasses and pushes mine toward me. ‘That’s OK. Gangsters and strippers go together like toast and marmalade. We keep the same hours, the tax man doesn’t hear much from us…’

I grin. ‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Yes.’

He shakes his head.

‘So what’s with all the whiskey?’

‘You don’t have to keep up with me. I’m trying to dull the urge.’

I keep my breath steady. ‘What urge?’

‘At the risk of sounding like a compulsive, obsessive possessive fool, the urge to fuck you, of course.’

I feel the heat rush up my cheeks. ‘You’re the kind of guy every mother warns her daughter about.’

‘Did yours?’

Suddenly I am on shifting sand. ‘She didn’t get the chance.’

‘Don’t you ever want to go back?’

‘No.’

‘Have you brothers, sisters?’

Here is the test. Here is where Lily passes with flying colors. I lock eyes with him. ‘I was their only child. Can we quit the questions now?’

He looks at me with an unreadable expression, his lashes wickedly long and dark. ‘I’m not actually one for talking. I thought you wanted to.’

I slide off the stool. ‘Let’s go back to your place.’

My chest rises and falls at the excitement that flares in his eyes. He comes around the bar, grabs my hand and we leave the way we came. As if by magic the car is already waiting outside. We slide into it and roar through the empty streets.





NINE



We stop outside a town house in Bloomsbury. He turns off the engine and looks at me and I feel a sharp thrill of pleasure run through my body. I open the passenger door and step out. The night air is deliciously cool. He comes around to my side and, taking my hand in his, pulls me up a short flight of stone steps.

He must have found a key and put it into the door—there might even have been some sort of alarm set-up he had to turn off—but I am in such a haze of lust that the only thing I recognize is when he grabs my body in an iron embrace and bruises my lips with his. The sensation of being overpowered and taken is so great my body starts to tremble violently.

He pulls away from me. ‘Are you all right?’ His eyes glitter with the look of a man possessed, a man who can barely control himself.

Warmth glows in my guts. I open my mouth and no words come. Perhaps I am possessed of the same lust. I nod wordlessly.

For a second he stares at me oddly, his shadowed face lit by street lamps from outside the windows, then he swoops down again on my mouth and I am vaguely aware that hard hands are sliding inside my top and unclasping my bra. I moan helplessly. It feels as if I have been starving for a lifetime. Cool air touches my skin and warm hands cup my breasts. My nipples harden against his palms. My mouth clings desperately to his. Between my legs I ache desperately for him. Suddenly he takes his mouth away.

‘More,’ I beg hoarsely. Like an addict.

He gets on his knees and his hot hands roughly drag my skirt upwards. Hooking his fingers into the sides of the skimpy triangle of cloth stretched between my hip bones he pulls it down my legs. Then he parts my thighs and with his fingers opens me up and stares hungrily at my naked, slick flesh.

‘Beautiful,’ he breathes. His voice is thick with lust. ‘So damn beautiful.’

He dips his head and, dragging his tongue over the slit, laps up the juices dripping from it. And that simple greed is far more erotic than sex. He has claimed my body in a way that no other man has. He has drunk my juices as if they are nectar. He looks up into my glazed eyes. There is no need for words. He bends his head and devours me with the hunger of the damned. I buck wildly against his gorging mouth.

There is no time to tell him that I want him inside me.

The rough, sweet drag of his tongue through my soaked folds sends me over the edge quickly. I come violently, screaming, my fingers grabbing his head, grinding his mouth against me. It is not pretty and it is not feminine. It is animalistic. It is basic. It is Jake fucking me with his tongue and me losing control to a man for the first time in my life.