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wouldn’t have had to
sleep with half the town, baby,” he gritted, cupping her cunt in his palm and
brusquely rubbing in his saliva.
    Cleo stiffened at the touch, biting back a moan.
    When the pad of his thumb scraped over her clit, a scorching
heat, swift and blinding, surged through her body in shock waves. She fought to
still it, control it, tensing her muscles as it unleashed. Sebastian’s thick
lips were an inch from hers and when he spoke, the scent of beer wafted to her
nostrils, dizzying her. “I’ll bet your pussy is sweeter than any I’ve ever
tasted before.”
    “No,” she breathed. “You’re mean. You’re a devil ,
Sebastian.”
    “Yes, I am. And I’ve been in hell because of you.” He parted
her legs farther and shoved his hard chest between her thighs, gazing down at
her swollen sex with hot, heavy eyes. “You’re so horny I can smell you, Cleo—it
makes me want to eat you.” Her cunt flooded with desire when he bent and grazed
her curls with his lips. Then, ever so slowly, he flicked his tongue and licked
her clit with a single deep stroke.
    It was hell.
    “Sebastian, please don’t…”
    Don ’ t do this or don ’ t stop ? she
vaguely wondered. His touch felt so good yet at the same time, so very painful.
She couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate…could only feel. His swift, powerful
tongue was now spearing inside her creamy pussy like a sword, killing her
resistance with each thrust.
    “Quit the chat and fuck her, Bas,” Jason called from behind.
“Fuck those tits, man!”
    “Yeah, we want to hear Cleo moan. Time to loosen up, Cleo
sweetie,” Haley offered cheerily. “The time has come for you to come !”
    Sebastian growled between her legs, not liking the intrusion
of their voices, not a man who appreciated being told what to do. But his
tongue remained, delving inside her and Cleo thought she’d die from the shame.
She was ashamed that she was enjoying this, ashamed to admit that, yes, she’d
always— always —wanted this man. Inside her. Fucking. Taking. Cursing.
Biting.
    She’d envied those women. Those loose women he always
accessorized with, one on each arm, each exposing an ample share of cleavage
and legs.
    Cleo had been jealous but she’d swiftly smothered the
feeling, telling herself repeatedly those women were whores, hussies and sluts.
They had no brains and were valued solely for their bodies. Cleo frequently
found herself thinking how she should pity those poor, lost creatures, and how
she—Cleo Sonterra—was worth more than that, more than just a sexy body, for she
had a beautiful soul. She was a giving person, intelligent and dedicated. She
was worth more than those whores, more than those women who got to feel
Sebastian’s hands on their naked bodies, more than those women who got to be
held in a limp hypnosis in his sleek, muscled arms. Cleo wasn’t worthless
because Sebastian didn’t want her, didn’t love her back. His lack of want
didn’t make her worthless. It just made him mean and stupid.
    Because Cleo had loved him more than anyone ever possibly could.
    She didn’t love him anymore—she couldn’t. Not after he’d
crushed her heart repeatedly and rendered it incapable of such an emotion.
    She didn’t even like him.
    He had no scruples. He was a beast who broke women’s hearts
with no regard to their feelings. Lying, cheating, stealing—he did it all for
the hell of it. His laugh was always cynical and he constantly cursed the world
and everything in it. He was not a man she would ever introduce to her
parents.
    Yet she’d wanted him, still wanted him. And perhaps
more than fear him, she feared her desire, for it was wild and untamed and
dangerous. And it was always there. Always this longing, this wanting.
    Him. Sebastian Russo. The meanest son of a bitch who ever
lived.

Chapter Four
     
    Sebastian groaned at the feel of her body, plush, pliant and
shivering beneath him. This was all he’d wanted throughout his college years
and