Brutal Blueblood

suddenly interesting to you now?”
“This is your fucking fault,” I said, my normally cool voice coming out rough and heated. “You think I want to want—”
Voices—giggling and whispering—came up the stairs, and I recognized the sound of a couple sneaking off from the party to fool around. I swung my head to see Sloane and Lennox of all fucking people at the top step, and I glowered at Lennox. I was half a heartbeat away from baring my teeth and beating my chest like an animal marking its territory.
“This hallway is taken,” I snarled, and the prince smirked at me, his eyes moving over to Tanith standing in the shadows and then back again.
“Rather,” he drawled, pulling a curious Sloane back down the stairs. “Maybe we can join you next time. Have fun now!”
I didn’t wait for them to disappear. I grabbed Tanith’s hand again and dragged her to the very end of the hallway, next to the glass-paned door that led to the roof. But I didn’t take her outside. I didn’t want to share her with anyone who might be out there. I didn’t even want to share her with the Central Park view or with the half-hearted snow spitting from the sky.
I wanted her all to myself.
To my surprise, Tanith went pliantly enough, but once we got to the door, she pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest. It plumped her tits above the low neckline of the little black dress she was wearing, and with an abrupt and almost painful stir of my body, I recalled the soft feel of her in my hand last summer. The way her breast had molded under her thin T-shirt to my touch, a perfect handful, just enough to squeeze. And the way her turgid little nipple had felt against my palm . . .
Fuck.
“You were saying . . . ?” Tanith prompted. She sounded furious, but her chest was heaving with something more than anger. Even in the dark hallway, I could see that her adorable flush was back, heating her cheeks and her chest. It made me stone hard.
It made me livid too. She’d been keeping herself and her delicious flushing hidden away from me for all this time.
“You ruined me this summer,” I seethed, stepping forward. “All I could think of was you. Tasting you. Having you. And then you left. And now you’re kissing my brother—”
“Who I kiss is none of your business,” she countered. “None at all.”
“If you needed kissing, darling, you only had to come to me.” I stepped forward again, looking down at her. Her lips parted invitingly. “In the future, you will only come to me.”
“And why would I do that?” she asked, lifting her chin.
“Because I was able to bring you to the brink of orgasm in less than two minutes on that yacht,” I said fiercely. “Because I could make you melt on cold sidewalks in broad daylight this week with nothing more than a quick kiss.”
“You’re so fucking arrogant,” she said. “You think that you’re the only guy who can make me feel that way?”
“Did Felix?” I asked, jealousy searing the inside of my stomach. “Were you ready to spread your pretty legs for him?”
“Maybe,” she sneered. “Maybe I was about to take him upstairs to this very spot.”
“Don’t provoke me.”
“Or what?”
My self-control was gone—nothing more than a fucking memory. I was all instinct, all jealousy, all need. “Or I’ll have to prove it to you.”
“And what will you prove?”
“That you’re already mine.”
She was the one who moved first, rising onto her toes and slanting her lips over mine in a fast, violent kiss.
“I’m not yours,” she hissed between kisses. “I hate you.”
“And I hate you,” I groaned into her mouth, my hands dropping to the skirt of her dress, fisting the fabric to shove it above her waist. “But I have to have you. No girl has done this to me, ever. Ever, Tanith. Never broken my control. You’re the first, and I hope you’re fucking happy now.”
“I’ll be happy when you leave me alone,” she gasped, parting her legs for me as I let go of her skirt with one hand and pushed it between her thighs. She bit my jaw, my neck, her hands shoving under my suit jacket, her nails scratching over the Italian cotton of my shirt. “I’ll be happy when I never see you again—oh shit—!”
I’d found the front of her thong and slid underneath. I shuddered when I finally felt her, finally felt the pussy I’d been obsessed with since this summer. Her flesh was hot and slick for me, so fucking slick, and she was—
“Jesus, Tanith. You feel so good,” I groaned, trailing my fingertips up her smooth skin. My erection surged against my fly at the feel of her, wanting in in in. “Fuck.”
“Owen,” she said breathlessly. “Give me more—”
She rocked against my touch, whining in protest when I pulled away to tug down the neckline of her dress. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and so I could expose a tightly budded nipple right away. Her whines turned to flat-out moans when I gave it a hard lick and then sucked on it.
“Owen,” she said. “Owen.”
Her hands were greedy—greedier than mine even. She was clawing at my backside, at my biceps, yanking impatiently at the buttons of my shirt so she could slide her palms up my abdomen and chest. “You never did make me come when we were on the yacht,” she said, biting at my throat and then sucking the skin there. “You owe me.”
I left her tits, silently promising myself I’d be back, and slid my fingers between her thighs again. “All you had to do was ask,” I told her, finding the wet place where her cunt opened for me. I pierced her with my fingers as gently as I could—one finger, and then another into her soft, tight sheath—all while studying her parted lips and her hooded eyes. I wanted to know what she liked. I needed to