Manaconda(20)

My nails scraped through his sweaty scalp. His shirt was soaked through and I would wear more than one imprint of him on my body. I couldn’t care less.

He crushed his mouth to mine, dragging me into him so tightly that there was no doubt to the claims of the magazine, that was for freaking sure. I literally dangled from his shoulders. He towered over me, but didn’t bend to me.

No, he lifted me up and demanded I bend to him.

I did.

God help me, but I did.

His arm banded around my lower back, and his other hand dug into my ass as he turned me into the wall. My skirt didn’t allow for me to curl around him like I wanted to. I had no choice but to be pinned. I made due with curling my calf around his knee, and tried desperately to think.

Thinking kept getting squashed by the power of Hunter in his elemental form. I’d watched his passion ignite onstage for nearly two hours, but now it was all directed at me. Again.

No.

No, this was even bigger than the hallway. Then had been a teasing taste.

I sucked his tongue into my mouth and wished for better timing. Wished for so much.

I tore my mouth away and touched my forehead to his. “We can’t.”

His lip curled into a snarl. “We can.”

I shook my head. “Show.” I dragged in a deep breath. “Song. Singing.” Fuck, I didn’t even know the right words. Words were what I knew. Spin and image. I groaned when he pressed me even tighter into the wall. Breath whooshed out of my lungs.

“After. I want you after. In my room.” His voice lowered until it was only a grumbling bass of sound. “All of this off. All of you—mine.”

I shook my head. Caveman tactics shouldn’t be hot.

He lifted me higher, nudging my jacket open. He found my nipple unerringly. It might have been because it was so hard I could barely stand keeping my clothes on. Yeah, maybe. But then I couldn’t think again. He sucked and nipped the tip through the camisole and bra under it. Until there was nothing but hot wetness and his relentless suction.

“My room,” he said around my nipple.

“Hunter, you’re my client.” I’d already fucked up. Donovan hadn’t reprimanded me. I didn’t know why. Maybe that was his way. Just the disappointment in his gaze was enough to make me want to scrabble back and correct every mistake I’d ever made in my entire career. This one, right here. This was the ultimate career blunder.

But when I met his storm-soaked eyes, I couldn’t deny just how much I wanted him. Wanted this feeling to go on.

“You’re fired.”

I laughed. I shouldn’t have, but his face was thunderous and his jaw was set. I stared at his mouth, sawing my teeth through my own bottom lip so I wouldn’t attack it again. “You can’t fire me.”

“The fuck I can’t.” His eyes were blisteringly hot. Like his skin, like his cock that was branding me right across my upper thigh. Damn pencil skirt. I wanted to wiggle it up and get him to line me right up with his thick length.

Could you die from being turned on?

Was that a thing?

There had been a time or two in my life where I’d thought I knew what passion was, but nothing like this. Was it a rock star thing? Was it a Hunter thing?

Or was it watching him prowl over that stage and own every woman that looked his way?

His hair was shorn to the skin on the sides, but the top was long and unkempt from my fingers. I pushed a hank back, losing myself in his broody eyes. Words. You can do it, Kennedy. “You fire me and I have to find another client.”

He grabbed my hand, one then the other, and pinned them above my head. “Hell no.” I sucked in a shallow breath when he went at my neck. “I don’t care if you technically work for me, or if I have to drain a bank account to buy out your services. Whichever gets me inside you is the only answer that interests me, Kenny.”

“You couldn’t afford me.”

He reared back until our gazes locked. “Try me.”

I leaned my head forward—it was the only thing not currently pinned to the damn wall—and flicked my tongue over the dent in his upper lip. So delicious and full. And good God, he knew how to use it. Bad ideas were stacking up like emails on a Monday morning.

“Dammit, Kenny.”

The backstage fuzzed around me. We were still backstage, weren’t we? I could hear the distant whine of guitar and thump of bass. Or was that my blood? And why did he keep calling me Kenny?

Worse, why was I starting to like it?

My eyes fluttered shut when his mouth found my neck again.

“Hunter.”

He swirled his tongue over the little strap of my camisole. “Say yes.” He lowered me to my feet. A groan hummed through my skin as he released my hands. But he didn’t just step back. No, that would be too easy, too normal. Fantasies of a hot, hard hookup with a rock star didn’t include soft and easy. Not when there was no familiarity to base it on.