Fresh rage ripped through her. Cathy felt her face tighten, her cheekbones heating. She tossed aside her purse, hearing it clunk against the wall, and kicked off her heels. Reaching down for the hem, she peeled off her T-shirt, taking her bra with it, and tossed the garments away. With every discard, her angry momentum carried her across the carpet until she was standing almost toe to toe with him. Her bare breasts rose and fell with her trembling anger. She ripped down the zipper of her jeans. “Is this what you want?” she ground out, grasping the waist of her jeans.
He caught her wrists, stopping her furious strip. His ice-blue eyes narrowed on her. “I want you to undress me.”
“What?”
He let go of her wrists. There was a hard look on his face. His voice was low, almost menacing. “Undress me.”
Cathy glared up at him. She was too ticked off to be intimidated by his attitude. She wrenched his black T-shirt out of the tight waistband of his low-riding jeans. She stepped back, panting. “There, asshole.”
“Well, that’s a start. But I have to tell you, darlin’, your technique leaves something to be desired.” His voice was at its most sarcastic.
Cathy pulled up his T-shirt with such violence that she rocked against the hard planes of his chest, her breasts pressed for an instant against hot, bare skin before she leaped back. He obliged her by dipping forward, raising his arms, so that the T-shirt peeled free of his head and muscular arms. Cathy threw it aside without taking her searing gaze off of the man standing in front of her.
Michael straightened. He looked at her, his face still hard. “The belt.”
She reached down to free the tongue, pulled it taut to slip the metal tang, and unlatched the buckle. Without being told, she unsnapped and unzipped his jeans before she bent and knelt to pull the denim down from his lean hips. His thick erection sprang free, jutting level with her eyes. He’s commando. Bastard! The truth burst in her brain. He had cold-bloodedly planned this little scenario for her, for his whore.
A red haze of fury dropped before her eyes. Tumbled memories of her ex—what he had demanded—forcing her down on him. He had liked to fuck her face. Oh, yes, she knew to a nicety how to service a man. She circled her fingers around the base of his shaft. Leaning forward, she opened her lips and took him deep into her mouth. When he was seated, she grasped the backs of his hard thighs to hold him close and began to work his straining cock. Through the pulse pounding in her ears, she dimly heard his deep groan.
“God, woman!” His taut fingers threaded through her hair, exerting tension against her scalp. “Show a little mercy!”
Inside her head, Cathy laughed. Her teeth raked his length and nipped. She could feel his hard thighs quivering. She sucked harder, faster. He bucked in her mouth. His hands twisted tighter in her hair, pulling her backward, making tears spring to her eyes. His cock popped free of her tight suctioning mouth. Snarling, she jerked forward and bit the engorged glans. Michael howled, and she laughed out loud.
“Damn you, Winter!” Michael was breathing harshly. His hands were still twisted in her hair. She looked up at him, at the wild look around his eyes and his distended nostrils. “This isn’t the way I wanted it!”
“Isn’t it? My mistake!”
He yanked her up from her knees and threw her onto the bed. Cathy rolled away, but he caught her. He tore off her jeans and thong. He forced his thigh between hers then he pushed inside of her. His hands wrapped over her shoulders for purchase, and there was no finesse with what he did then.
Cathy was glad for his hard-riding possession. She was desperate for him to make her feel, to make her forget who she really was. I’m Winter! I’m Winter! Fury still coursed raw through her heated veins. She raked her long nails down his back before digging them deep into the solid muscle of his flexing buttocks. She gloried in his hoarse curses. Raising her head, she turned to bite his forearm, making him flinch. But he didn’t falter in the pounding rhythm between them.