Stiletto Sisterhood

Original Edition: *BONUS* Hadrian | Space is just a word

"Wow," she said when they were inside and he shut the door, twisting the locks behind him. "This is a hell of a place."

"Was my dad's," Hadrian answered, working off his shoes and left them where they were rather then returning them to the carefully stacked boxes and bags in the closet. Priya hummed a knowing sound and set her clutch atop the glass topped side table, her eyes lifting to his face and judging the flicker of heat he saw rise in them was in answer to the scorching fire that blazed in him.

Rooted, Hadrian sucked in a deep breath, nostrils flaring. "Last chance, Priya."

The echo of his challenge hung between them in the dark and stillness as she angled her head, hair sliding across her shoulder. She gave her answer not with words, but through actions, as her hands skimmed across her waist to gather and peel the wispy layer of silk over her head.

She lunged, he seized and Priya was in his arms before the silk touched the polish marble tiles. Hands tangled in his hair, legs locked around her waist and her mouth—Jesus, her mouth. Wild, desperate and perfect.

Hadrian had never moved so fast in his life, on or off the field, but somehow together they staggered into his bedroom with her body still wrapped around him. Tossed down on the king sized bed, his hands claimed, controlled, conquered. Stripping and peeling, wrestling with the layers between them until hot skin met hotter need.

For all his intensity, she met him with equal fervor. The sharp bite of her teeth the score of her nails down his back pushed the red of his vision to blistering white. If he didn't get inside her soon he was bound to go insane.

"Hold up." He snapped his fingers in front of her face. Startled, she blinked up at him through the fog of arousal. "How many fingers do you see?"

Laughter rippled through her chest. "Two broken ones if you don't shut up."

"Easy, Tiger. I'm only making sure you don't pass out on me again. But that's okay, be a smartass—let's see if you're still laughing when I'm finished with you."

The rest of her laughter bled out into a gasping moan as his mouth latched on with hot, wet pulls. Trailed with nips of teeth and a glide of tongue.

Lower and lower, parting her thighs, Hadrian settled between them and claimed. Priya's body seized and bowed, the arch of her back, the rock of her hips, all urging him to take and take more. And as her hand stroked over his head, fingers curling in his hair as she sobbed his name, he felt like a f*cking king. A God.

Almost there. Fingers stretching, filling, gliding into the slick, warmth and wet, he pushed her harder—ruthlessly, to that blinding peak. To that glorious edge—up and over into a hard, rocketing climb and fall. She came with a violence that punched through his soul, left him equally dazed and breathless to the point of incoherence.

While he had a measure of sanity left, Hadrian reached for the top drawer of the side table. Found a square packet and ripped through the plastic with his teeth.

"Wait," she panted, her hand stopping him short from rolling on the latex.

Thinking she meant to stop, his expression morphed into strained agony. But he would stop if she needed him to, and he'd do so without casting guilt or blame or anger even if his blood was pumping with a ferocity of desire.

"Priya..." her name was a strangled whisper as he battled the urge and need, reigning himself back in like a beast that had to be caged. Braced on his knees, her gorgeous body spread across his bed like a banquet, control was a thin, elusive strand but he grasped onto it with both hands of a drowning man.

Thankfully, she had other intentions.

Priya reached between them, circled her fingers around his hardened length and scored her teeth hungrily over her bottom lip. "My turn."