Fallen For My Enemy

Chapter 3

In a moment of intimate closeness, Kathryn Chandelle's lips separated, releasing a muted exclamation. Her hands instinctively sought out his knees, clinging to him for support as he playfully teased her. The realization that she was likely ruining the immaculate state of his suit crossed her mind, but she only tightened her grip when he introduced an additional digit into her, stretching her to the edge of a tantalizing, exquisite torment.

"Seems like you do," he murmured, his lips lightly brushing against hers, just enough to whet her appetite. The gesture had her leaning in for more, despite the control he had over her physical and emotional state in that instant. "You should have thought twice before swiping my pocket watch."

"I gave it back," she protested weakly, her voice strained as he drove his fingers deeper into her. The obscene sound of her wetness as he stroked her was scandalous, but it only served to fan the flames of her desire until she was speeding towards an impending euphoric release.

"Still reckless," he repeated, his low voice caressing her almost as enticingly as his fingers. "I suppose I'll have to take something of yours in return."

"What are you implying?" she asked, her breath hitching, barely able to focus as her body clenched around his fingers, drawing him in just as she started to freefall over the edge and into ecstasy.

"How many men have you allowed back here?" he questioned casually, but his hand tightened around her throat as he withdrew his fingers from her, applying pressure to her sensitive spot.

Her mouth dropped open, a sharp cry escaping her as she reached her climax. Her body convulsed, seeking the fingers he'd cruelly removed from her, but she was too far gone for it to make a difference. Her vision blurred, and she could have sworn she saw stars as she closed her eyes, succumbing to the powerful orgasm that washed over her.

"Oh, fu-"

Suddenly, his wet fingers were forced past her lips and down her throat, causing her to choke on the unexpected intrusion. Her cry was cut short, replaced by the taste of herself on his fingers as he pulled his head back just enough to glare down at her.

"If you dare to lie to me, it won't be my fingers in your mouth, it'll be my manhood. Do you understand?" he warned.

Kathryn whimpered in reply, her body still shaking from the aftermath of his ministrations. She was left wondering if she had ever experienced such an intense climax before, especially considering he'd barely touched her.

What was that? How was that even possible?

And why did it matter if she'd been with anyone else? She didn't know this man, even if he had just given her the most powerful orgasm of her life.

"Clean my fingers, darling. I don't want the scent of you lingering on my hand." His stern command ignited a surge of desire within her. "Clean them."

And so she did, feeling both gratified and eager for more as she slowly obeyed his command.

She wanted him to understand that she could have him begging on his knees for her if she so desired, so she let her hands wander up his legs, massaging his upper thighs as she licked and sucked his fingers.

She looked up at him flirtatiously, and there was a certain flicker in his gaze as he watched her... she'd never seen anything like it. It was as if he was a predator who'd finally caught the prey he'd been stalking. His attention was entirely on her, and he looked famished.

It made her want to please him in any way he wished. Any way he craved.

"Enough," he grunted, and reluctantly Kathryn stopped, releasing his fingers. He let go of her throat and leaned back on the sofa, his expression one of cool indifference.

He pulled out a silk handkerchief from the front pocket of his suit jacket, using it to clean his hand before carelessly tossing it on the ground between her knees.

Then his hand was on her chin again, guiding her gaze back to his. "Answer me, darling," he murmured, his tone softer now. The endearment felt like a brand against her skin, but for a moment, it lacked its usual bite.

"None," she replied without hesitation.

He raised an eyebrow expectantly and Kathryn cleared her throat.

"I mean, it depends on what you mean by 'been with'," she countered.

His gaze hardened, but his fingers continued to gently cradle her face as he clarified, "How many men have brought you to climax in this room before me?"

"Oh," she said, finally understanding. "Definitely none." Because most men were clueless. They didn't know what she liked. What she needed.

But he did, and the realization was exhilarating.

"And how many men have you let pleasure you with their fingers or their manhood while you've been at work?"

There was an ominous undertone to his voice that hadn't made its presence known before. It was a tone that she instinctively recognized, a warning bell tolling in the back of her mind.

Lizzy Gordon had spent her entire existence in the company of dangerous men. Assassins. Outlaws. From her early childhood, she had been learning from them, observing their ways, studying their habits.

And Dean Martin had just unmasked himself as one of them.

She fell into a stunned silence for a moment, her instinctual survival mechanisms finally kicking into high gear after she had been languishing in the afterglow of an intense orgasm. This survival instinct should have been triggered earlier, before he'd had the audacity to invade her with half of his hand, but it was better late than never, she supposed.

At least she had derived one hell of a climax from him before their brief encounter ended.

What a waste of a potentially exciting night. She had been genuinely looking forward to having her way with him tonight. But there was absolutely no way she was going to ally herself with a damned criminal.

She might be one herself, albeit somewhat reluctantly, but she had managed to extricate herself from the clutches of wicked men once before. She had no plans on falling back into that life-threatening trap. Not for anything or anyone.

Ñ

Men of that ilk could never be trusted.

"I don't really think that's any of your concern," Lizzy retorted, rising gracefully to her feet. She retrieved her skirt, slipping it on with an effortless elegance while he watched.

He smirked, his gaze leisurely traveling up and down her body as she finished dressing before he responded.

"Everything about you is my business, Lizzy."

She tensed up.

How on earth did he know her name? She hadn't divulged any personal information to him.

Lizzy practically bolted from the room before he even had a chance to rise to his feet, her stilettos clicking frantically against the floor as she dashed straight for Xander.

He was still stationed behind the bar, thank God, and she practically hurled herself behind him for protection.