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6
2 YEARS

First Look: 'Beautiful Bastard' (Exclusive)

Editor's Note: The following excerpt contains mature language and adult situations.

He made a low, angry noise deep in his throat and
took my blouse in his hands, ripping it open, the silver
buttons skittering across the long conference table.
He slid his hands up my ribs and over my breasts,
thumbs slipping back and forth across my taut nipples,
his dark stare fixated on my expression the entire time.
His hands were big, and rough almost to the point of
pain, but instead of wincing or backing off, I pushed
into his palms wanting more, and harder.

He growled, fingers tightening. It occurred to me
I might bruise, and for a sick moment I hoped I did.
I wanted a way to remember this feeling, of being
completely sure of what my body wanted, entirely unleashed.

He leaned close enough to bite my shoulder, whispering,
“You fucking tease.”

Unable to get close enough, I quickened my pace
on his zipper, shoving his pants and his boxers to the
floor. I gave his cock a hard squeeze, feeling him pulse
against my palm.

The way he hissed my last name—“Mills”—should
have sent a rush of fury through me, but I only felt one
thing right now: pure, unadulterated lust. He forced
my skirt up my thighs and pushed me back on the conference
table. Before I could utter a single word, he
took hold of my ankles, grabbed his cock, and took a
step forward, thrusting deep inside me.

I couldn’t even be horrified by the loud moan I let
out—he felt better than anything.

“What’s that?” he hissed through clenched teeth,
his hips slapping against my thighs, driving him deep
inside. “Never been fucked like this before, have you?
You wouldn’t be such a tease if you were being properly
fucked.”

Who did he think he was? And why the hell did it
turn me on so much that he was right? I had never had
sex anywhere but on a bed, and it never felt like this.

“I’ve had better,” I taunted.

He laughed, a quiet mocking sound. “Look at me.”

“No.”

He pulled out just as I was about to come. At first I
thought he was actually going to leave me this way, until
he grabbed my arms and yanked me up off the table,
lips and tongue pressing against mine.

Look at me,” he said again. And, finally, with him
no longer inside me, I could. He blinked once, slowly,
long dark lashes brushing against his cheek, and then
said, “Ask me to make you come.”

His tone was all wrong. It was almost a question,
but his words were just like him—all bastard. I did
want him to make me come. More than anything. But
I’d be damned if I’d ever ask him for anything.

I dropped my voice and stared back at him. “You’re
an asshole, Mr. Ryan.”

His smile told me that whatever he’d needed from
me, he got. I wanted to slam my knees up into his balls,
but then I wouldn’t get more of what I really wanted.

“Say please, Miss Mills.”

Please, go fuck yourself.”

The next thing I felt was the cold window against
my breasts, and I groaned at the intense contrast in
temperature between it and his skin. I was on fire; every
part of me wanted to feel his rough touch.

“At least you’re consistent,” he snarled into my
ear before biting my shoulder. He kicked at my feet.
“Spread your legs.”

I parted my legs and without hesitation he pulled
my hips back and reached between us before thrusting
forward into me.

“You like the cold?”

“Yes.”

“Devious, filthy girl. You like being watched, don’t
you?” he murmured, taking my earlobe between his
teeth. “You love that all of Chicago can look up here
and see you getting fucked, and you loving every minute
of it with your pretty tits pressed against the glass.”

“Stop talking, you’re ruining it.” Though he wasn’t.
Not even close. His gravelly voice was doing wicked
things to me.

But he just laughed in my ear and probably noticed
the way I shivered at the sound. “You want them to see
you come?”

I groaned in response, unable to form words with
each repeated thrust into me, pressing me further
against the glass.

“Say it. You want to come, Miss Mills? Answer me or
I’ll stop and make you suck me off instead,” he hissed,
driving himself deeper and deeper inside me with every
thrust.

The part of me that hated him was dissolving
like sugar on my tongue, and the part that wanted
everything he had to give me was growing, hot and
demanding.

“Just tell me.” He leaned forward, sucked my earlobe
between his lips and then gave it a sharp bite. “I
promise I’ll give it to you.”

“Please,” I said, closing my eyes to shut out everything
else and just feel him. “Please. Yes.”

He reached around, moving his fingertips across
my clit with the perfect pressure, the perfect rhythm. I
could feel his smile press into the back of my neck, and
when he opened his mouth and pressed his teeth to my
skin, I was done for. Warmth spread down my spine,
around my hips, and between my legs, jerking me back
into him. My hands slammed against the glass, my entire
body quaking from the orgasm that was rushing
over me, leaving me gasping for air. When it finally
subsided, he pulled out and spun me around to face
him, ducking his head to suck my neck, my jaw, my
lower lip.

“Say thank you,” he whispered.

I dug my hands into his hair and tugged hard, hop-
ing I could get some reaction out of him, wanting
to see if he was in control or delusional. What are we
doing?

He groaned, leaning into my hands and kissing up
and down my neck, pressing his erection into my stomach.
“Now make me feel good.”

I released one hand and brought it down to his cock
and began stroking him. He was heavy, and long, and
perfect in my palm. I wanted to tell him, but I’d be
damned if I ever let him know how amazing he felt.
Instead, I pulled away from his lips, staring at him with
hooded eyes.

“I’m going to make you come so hard you forget
that you’re supposed to be the world’s biggest asshole,”
I growled, sliding down the glass before slowly taking
his entire cock in my mouth and back against my
throat. He tensed and let out a deep moan. I looked up
at him, his palms and forehead resting on the glass, his
eyes closed tight. He looked vulnerable, and he looked
gorgeous in his abandon.

But he wasn’t vulnerable. He was the biggest jerk on
the planet and I was on my knees in front of him. No
fucking way.

So instead of giving him what I knew he wanted, I
stood up, pulled my skirt back down, and met his eyes.
It was easier now, without him touching me and making
me feel things he had no business doing.

The seconds ticked by, neither of us looking away.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he
rasped. “Get on your knees and open your mouth.”

“Not a chance.”

I pulled the front of my buttonless shirt together
and walked out, praying my shaky legs wouldn’t betray
me.

Grabbing my purse from my desk, I threw my blazer
on, trying desperately to fasten the button with my
trembling fingers. Mr. Ryan still hadn’t come out, and
I ran to the elevator praying to God it would get there
before I had to face him again.
I couldn’t even let myself think about what happened

until I was out of there. I’d let him fuck me,
give me the most amazing orgasm of my life, and
then I’d left him with his pants around his ankles in
the company conference room with the worst case of
blue balls known to any man. If this was someone else’s
life I would be high-fiving them so hard. Too bad it
wasn’t.

Shit.

The doors opened and I entered, quickly pushing
the button and watching as each floor counted down.
As soon as the elevator reached the lobby I raced out
and down the hall. I briefly heard the security guard
say something about working late, but I just waved and
sped past him.

With each step the ache between my legs reminded
me of the events of the last hour. As I reached my car I
unlocked it with the remote, pulled open the door, and
collapsed into the safety of the leather seats. I looked
up at myself in the rearview mirror.

What in the fuck was that?

Text copyright © 2013 by Lauren Billings Luhrs and Christina Hobbs Venstra. Published Gallery Books, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.  Printed with permission of Simon & Schuster, Inc.