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“I may not have a mustache but I am indeed a villain. You’d be wise to remember it.”
God knew she was hardly his usual type. He liked them bold and buxom. Experienced. Not some uptown princess who’d faint in shock if he playfully slapped her arse while screwing her from behind.
You seem the kind of man to keep people under your thumb, turning the screws.” The side of his mouth hitched. “I am fond of screwing.” She huffed out a breath and cocked her head. “Was that innuendo?” “If you cannot tell then I’ve clearly lost my touch.” “I thought I wasn’t your type?” He lifted a shoulder and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “The more you argue with me, the more ‘my type’ you become.”
Men are the way they are because we’ve allowed them to run roughshod over us for centuries.
“Why are sons not taught to change things? Why must the burdens and problems of this world constantly fall on the shoulders of women?”
She might not be his type, but right now, at this moment, Mulligan was very much her type.
Oh, but when the criminals lived above Forty-Second Street, they were called tycoons.
“You said I wasn’t your type.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I lied. Shall I prove it to you?”
However, no one would ever believe that Mulligan could be good for her. He was worldly and charming. Cunning. A man who dressed like a duke but traded in violence and crime. An elegant sword dipped in poison.
“Stay,” he whispered and inched closer, and she held her breath. “Stay and I’ll make all your darkest dreams come true.”
Good luck, wolf. Find another lamb to play with.
“So if I’m right then you owe me a favor.” “Yes.” “I can’t think of anything I want from you,” she said with a wrinkle of her nose. “You can’t?” he murmured. “What a pity.” There were many, many things he’d like from Justine, not all of them suitable for polite conversation. Most of them centered on the topic of her pussy and his tongue.
“So pure,” he murmured. “All that decentness is the worst kind of temptation to a man like me.” “Why?” she croaked. Bending at the waist, he put his lips near her ear. “Because I want to sink inside and bathe myself in it, then destroy it.”
She was going to be the death of him. They would find him buried under the mounds of her blind trust and faith in humanity.
And I like having you in my debt.” “Why?” His expression turned positively predatory, like he was ready to devour her. She shivered under his hot blue stare, unable to look away. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said. “You’re a beautiful and charismatic woman. What man wouldn’t angle to have you at his mercy?”
The young boy he’d never been wished to pick posies for her or dip her hair in ink. The man he was now longed to drop to his knees and suck on her clitoris until her eyes rolled back in her head.
Stop complaining. Do you wish for him to ravish you right on the lanes? She sort of did, actually.
“Asking for what you want is not selfish. None of this is about who wins or loses. We don’t keep score. If any man ever tries to tell you otherwise, he deserves to be beaten.”
“We’ll finish this as quickly as I can manage. Then you’d best be wet and ready to take care of those delicate things because they are aching for you.”
“I would beg to fuck you if I thought you wouldn’t worry about my injury.” “No begging would be required if you were healed.” “Then I guess I’d better heal damn quickly.”
“Justine, I’ve never met anyone like you. There’s never been another woman in my life, not in this way. Not someone I cared for and trusted as I do you. Who knows what would have happened after my injury if you hadn’t looked after me? This isn’t all one-sided. I feel just as off-balance and unsure of myself around you. But, I don’t want to give you up. Please, cara, do not leave me.”
