The Mad British (8 page)

He is probably expecting the latter—the shove part, not the cold shower. Too bad he has forgotten who is in control this time. Besides, a bet is a bet, and the loser has to pay.

He has to pay.

I pull my hand from his and run it down his chest. I stop at his waist, then lift my other hand to the opposite side, gathering his shirt in both fists. His eyes become as dark as the night sky, and suddenly there is heat in his gaze. Heat, and a flicker of arrogance, as if he is confident I’ll back down.

And I almost do.

Almost.

James is every woman’s fantasy. He has the perfect body and an even more perfect face. And something tells me he knows exactly what a woman wants. God, I needed that after two years of going to bed alone.

He had wagered me in a card game, like I was an object to play with; that my feelings didn’t matter. I keep letting men walk all over me. But not any more. It’s my time to do the walking and dish out a little revenge.

Two can play at that game.

My heart hammers in my chest. I’ve never ever had a one-night stand. And I’ve never ever snuck out after using a man for sex. Even though my pulse is beating like a drum, and my body is trembling, it isn’t from nerves. It’s like how I feel when I’m about to ride a rollercoaster.

Anticipation. Excitement.

I lick my lips and draw the chain that’s round his neck into my hands. It’s a silver cross. “I think you’ve met your match, James,” I murmur. Then I pounce on him.

It’s time to let my hair loose and have fun for once.

James Hatter, you better rock my world.

“WAIT!”

I place my hands on her bare shoulders and push her backwards, tumbling forward. Adelaide loses balance briefly, regaining it only after her body crashes into the window behind her. Her hands drop from my shirt immediately, moving to hold herself up against the window.

"
Adelaide
." I suck in a breath when I realise how my voice sounds, how my tongue wraps round her name. Bracing my hands on either side of her, I watch her closely, desperate for her to say or do something. I’m not surprised when she remains quiet, her palms flat against the glass, her breaths quick and heavy.

"Adelaide," I repeat. "Don't do anything you don’t—"

"I want this," she says, her voice trembling but strong in conviction.

She wraps her slender fingers round one of my wrists, tugging it away from the window, but I keep my hand firmly planted.

"I don't want you to do something you’ll regret," I tell her. “Not with me.”

Her head falls back against the glass. "I want to—”

"I don't want you to kiss me because of some stupid bet," I continue, not giving her the chance to finish.

"You wager a woman, which most men would use to their advantage, but you just end up playing chess. Then you wager a kiss and turn her away because it's the classy thing to do." Something about this amuses her. "It's a wonder you ever get laid, James."

I crack a smile, liking the way my name glides off her pink lips. "I thought you would have realised by now that I'm not most men." I lower my head, my mouth just a breath away from hers. "I can’t kiss you,” I murmur, just above her soft lips and then draw back.

“Why?” Her voice is breathless, full of doubt.

Brushing my fingers across her collarbone, all the way round to the back of her neck, I grip her hair back, not too softly, not too hard, but just enough to make her gasp. I bend my head into the crook of her neck and take in her scent before meeting her gaze.

“Because once I kiss you, Adelaide, I don't plan on stopping.” She gives me a pining, doe-eyed look that tells me she is begging for it. But I can see she’s a little scared also. “There are things I will do to you. . .” I look down at her mouth, then back to her eyes. “I’ll ruin you." Her lips part, but no words come out.

My other hand falls to her shoulder and my thumb circles over her smooth skin. She is soft and delicate, unlike anything I’ve ever touched before, and it takes every ounce of restrain I’ve got to not listen to the incessant screaming voice inside my head.

Take. Her. Now.

I release her hair and place my hand against the window again, the other tracing the ends of her hair. I close my eyes and dip my head to hers. "This wasn't about anything more than having a drink and getting to know you." I open my eyes and look into hers. "Except maybe stealing you away from your date. He didn’t deserve a second of your time. I probably don't either but I’d like to think I’m less of an arse."

“There’s noting less about your arse.”

“So you’ve been checking it out?”

“It’s hard not to.”

“It’s always hard with you.” I look down briefly, feeling a thickening tension in my pants. She sucks in a shaky breath.

I want to push her hard against the window, pull up her dress to her hips, and slam my face into her so I can taste her until she screams for mercy.

"I’ve wanted you from the first time I laid eyes on you." She swallows hard, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. "Christ, every man out there wants you, and who can blame them? You’re so goddamn beautiful, Ad—"

I’m cut off by the crash of her body against me, her hands fisting my shirt as she fuses her lips to mine. Instinctively, my hands are on her sides, pressing the silk of her dress against the curve of her hips. I grip the fabric in my hands, a failed attempt at inching it upward, desperate to touch the bare skin she’s given me a glimpse of earlier this evening. Her mouth parts, her tongue requesting entrance into my mouth, and my lips part easily.

I know then that there is nothing I could ever deny her.

A shudder runs through my body when her tongue meets mine, swirling forcefully round one another, both of us eager to take what the other is offering. The kiss is frantic, as are our caresses. I continue to tug her tight dress upward, while her hands pull at the fabric of my shirt.

She moans against my mouth, her hips grinding against me when I finally manage to manoeuvre her dress up, but just a little. The bloody thing won’t budge. I hook my hand just behind her knee, drawing it round my leg, before snaking my hand up her thigh. She is softer than I’d imagined, supple and luscious. I wrap an arm round her waist, thrusting her against me, wanting more.

The image of her from earlier in the evening flashes through my mind; teeth sunk into her lower lip, her hand on her curvy hip, and I suddenly have no restraint. I draw my tongue from her mouth, my lips suckling against her lower lip, before I rake my teeth against it.

She mews into my mouth, one hand releasing my shirt as the other wraps round my neck, dragging me in closer. She pulls one last time on my shirt, moaning with satisfaction when she slides her hand beneath my shirt. Her palm splays against my stomach, working its way up to my chest, grasping at the muscles below it.

My hand cups her just below her arse, and a single finger traces the lining of her lacy knickers. I run my hand up from the small of her back, fisting it into the ends of her hair before tugging her head backwards.

She seems to love it when I do that.

Her mouth parts from me and she lets out a moan of frustration. Her lips are red and swollen, and I can see a faint mark from where my teeth have been. Her face is flushed, her eyes drowning with desire. She’s panting, her breaths taut from the lack of oxygen, and she’s only standing because I’m holding her up.

She meets my gaze. "I thought that would shut you up."

"I meant what I said before." I push my body further against hers and she groans in surprise when her back hits the glass. "I’ve tasted you now," I remind her in a low, guttural voice, grasping her wrists and holding them above her head with my hand. Grinding my hips into hers, I slide my other hand round her neck. "And I don't plan on stopping."

Lowering my mouth to hers, I part her lips, seeking entrance in the same way she had before. Our tongues meet again, thrashing round one another. It’s a dangerous dance of power; both wanting to be the one in charge, but it’s already clear that she’s lost.

She surrenders.

Her body withers between the glass and my body, her hips grinding against me, gasping against my mouth when she feels my hardening cock between her legs. My free hand tugs at the strap of her dress, my lips continuing to move against hers, and I’m frustrated at how easy she’d made it look earlier when she had stripped. I give up, dropping my hand to her waist, and try to tug the fabric upward again.

"James," she pants into my mouth, doing her best to pull away from my lips. But I won’t let her.

When she finally breaks free and is gasping for air, I nuzzle my face against her neck, attempting to push her hair back without using my hands. I let out a growl, wanting to touch her all at once, and hating that it isn’t possible.

I give up on what little progress I’ve made at hiking her dress up and use my hand to shove her hair away. She moans softly, her head falling against me when my tongue finds her neck. Lapping gently at the base of her neck, I begin a slow and painful assault, tracing a trail to just below her ear.

I grind into her, making sure she feels just how badly I want her. Her hips return my thrusts, her voice hitching as she moans, her head falling back against the window. My tongue snakes round the lobe, my teeth tugging it into my mouth. "Adelaide. . . "

"Oh God, do it," she whimpers, my teeth nipping at her earlobe as her hips buck against me. "Please."

"There's no need to beg, love." My lips brush across her ear and cheek. "I'm going to make sure you get what you deserve." I finally take her mouth in mine and move so that her hands are linked in both of mine, continuing to hold them above her head. My tongue swirls round hers, my teeth raking over her lips, over and over, until she’s crying into my mouth. Every whimper and moan coming from those plush lips nearly sends me over the edge.

I lower her hands, an inch at a time, keeping them firmly pressed against the window. Only when they’re at her sides, I release them, my hands clutching her hips.

"Take your dress off," I command, breaking our searing kiss and pressing my forehead against hers. "Take it off like you did before."

There’s no doubt in my mind she’ll be willing to comply. Keeping my hands on her hips, I step back, watching as she raises her hands to the strap of her dress. She keeps her stormy eyes on me and with the flick of a finger, the flimsy silk fabric falls away, and I release my hold on her long enough for the dress to fall to the floor.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve wanted to take a woman so badly, yet want to hold out and make it last. And it’s especially difficult when she’s ready to be taken, her body and eyes begging for it.

"James," she murmurs pleadingly, placing her hands on me as her head falls back against the window.

I imagine for a second how easy it will be to drop my trousers and briefs to my knees, shove her underwear aside, and pound into her. Over and over again. Harder with each thrust.

"So goddamn beautiful." My thumbs trace the lacy band of her knickers, and I pull a hand from beneath hers, lifting it to her breast. I trace the swell with a single fingertip, then pinch at the cherry through the fabric. She moans, her eyes fluttering with surprise, and she tightens her grip on my wrist to steady herself. I pay the same attention to the other; continuing the torture of slow, light strokes for several turns.

Only when she whimpers pleadingly, desperate for me to touch her bare skin, do I give my next command. I trace the curve of the fabric one last time. "Take it off."

She nods, eyes still on me, begging for a release. Her lips curve into a smile as she rakes her hands up her sides, taking her time at teasing me. I lick my lips, my mouth eager to do the things I’ve been fantasising about ever since she devoured that chocolate brownie. Arching her back, she slides her hands round her back, unsnapping the bra, and letting it fall to the floor the same way she had her dress. She draws her hands back round her modestly, but I pull them away.

"Don’t. . ." I drink in the sight of her perfect tits. "I want all of you."

I step forward, taking my mouth in hers again, both my hands rushing over her tits. She grabs my hips, tugging me forward by my belt loops, breaking the kiss only to catch her breath. Resting her head on my shoulder, she moans as my hands mould her soft tits against my palms, her own grasping for my belt buckle. My lips retrace their movements over her neck, rolling her nipples between my thumb and forefingers. She moans, pressing herself against my hands as she attempts to free me from my trousers.

Determined to distract her, my hands move to her shoulders, pushing her back against the window. She cries out in frustration, but I hush her with a gentle kiss before slowly making my way down to her boobs. I brush my lips against the valley in between them, and instantly her hands are raking through my hair, silently urging me to touch her.

I give into her need, lapping my way across one of her tits. My tongue whirls round the nipple, pulling it between my teeth before lapping at it gently. Her hips buck and her hold tightens, and I’m sure she’s swearing under her breath.

"James, please," she cries, her head falling forward and resting against me as I move across, lapping up both of her supple tits. I can’t help but grin against her, my tongue continuing to tease her cherry as I tilt my head back to look up at her. Her teeth are sunk into her lower lip, her eyes more hazy than before, and she looks ready to explode at any second.

I find it difficult to imagine what she’ll be like when this is all said and done, but then again, that’s the point—to make it unforgettable.

To ruin her.

She whimpers, roughly raking her hands through my hair, as if trying to get her point across. Releasing her nipple, I nuzzle my face against her tit one last time, then move so my face is just in front of hers.

"Tell me what you want," I whisper hoarsely, my hand cupping her cheek, while my thumb traces over her swollen lips. Her cheeks flush at my request, letting me know her thoughts are anything but pure. "Don't be afraid or nervous, love. Just tell me. Anything. You. Want. Anything goes with me."

"You know what I want. . ." Her eyes close for a second.

I move to tuck her hair behind her ear, placing an almost chaste kiss on her cheek. "Do you want me to touch you?" I brush my lips against her ear.

She nods, squirming against the window. I can see goose bumps forming on her skin; her body growing hotter while the window stays cool. Dropping my hand from her face, my forefinger draws a line down her body, starting at her shoulder and ending just above her belly button.

"Do you want me to touch you. . . there?" My tongue laps at her earlobe and I press my hand against her lower abdomen. She nods, her head falling limply toward me. "I can't hear you, Adelaide.
Louder
."