His smile went feral. His eyes went dark. “You should try using none.”

And then he tightened that hard hand at her chin and dragged her mouth to his.

—

Ajax hadn’t meant to kiss her.

But that mouth of hers was a fucking problem and there were a couple of time-honored solutions to that, and he’d figured mousy little Tulane behind the bar might wet her pants if he took his cock out.

Besides, the more Sophie shot off that mouth of hers at him, the more he wanted a taste of it. Of her. No matter whose daughter she was.

Sorry, old man, he thought.

He liked pussy with claws. Always had.

He kept her pinned to the wall, his chest hard against those gold tassels that made her nipples feel like they had their own claws, and then he took her mouth like he owned it. Like she was his property and he’d had her a thousand times already and yet never enough. Like he’d already worked his cock deep inside her. He thrust his way into her mouth and used his hand on her jaw to hold her still, and only when he had her where he wanted her did he slow down and take his time.

Wet, deep. Openmouthed and carnal. Tasting her and teasing her. Like he would devour her whole if he could.

And she met him, stroke for stroke, hot and wild.

Lust slammed into him like a fist. Like a sucker punch.

Like this was something darker and more intense than just another greedy little bitch on a hot southern day, climbing him like a jungle gym, the way they did.

Ajax didn’t question it. He could do that later.

Here, now, he took his free hand off the wall and tested that slippery rope of her thick, dark hair, like he could feel it shine against his palm. He kept going, smoothing his way over the bare skin of her shoulder, tracing those cute little angel wings that had taunted him down the length of Bourbon Street. He made her shiver, caught there between his hands and his mouth. Sophie made a helpless little noise in the back of her throat and he kissed her harder, deeper, angling his lips over hers, fucking that smart mouth of hers with his.

She tasted too damned good. Sex and longing, a hint of sugar, and all searing, scalding female. All that attitude, all that fight—there was none of that in her kiss, or in the hot, welcoming slide of her tongue tangling with his.

But he could feel her fists on his shirt, hard against his chest like she thought she might try to take him any minute, reminding him who she was.

Sophie Lombard, all grown up.

Later, that might get to him. Right now it only spurred him on.

He slid his palm down the sweet curve of her naked back, tracing that indentation that had led him through the streets of the Quarter like he’d had a hoop through his fucking nose, and then he’d had enough playtime. If he grabbed that hot little ass with the crescent of sweet cheek hanging out, plump and lush beneath the hem of her gold shorts, he’d fuck her where they stood, no question. He was barely holding back as it was. It would be so easy to tug those tiny little pants to the side and then he could sink into her like butter—but that was a quick way to reintroduce himself to the NOPD, no doubt.

Maybe not on his first day home.

So instead, Ajax wrapped his hand over her hip and tugged her closer, plastering her against him, finally getting his aching dick, hot and hard, in the soft, hot place between her legs.

She made a small choked noise and he worked that little cleft, rubbing her until she jolted against him, and then he leaned in right there, grinding hard against her clit. It wasn’t the hard fuck his whole body was shouting for, but it wasn’t bad.

Ajax could smell the heat on her, arousal and woman, and she shuddered hard—too hard, right there where he was pressed up against her, like she couldn’t control her own body—and he knew. How close she was already. How easy it would be to make her scream and buck and go wild. How much he’d enjoy watching her come all around him, because he told her to, no matter what fucking name she screamed when she did.

And Ajax didn’t see any particular reason to deny himself that.

She was wearing so little. She’d been driving him wild since he’d laid eyes on her across the damned Quarter, since before he’d known who she was. He wanted to fuck them both blind. He wanted to lose himself in that sweet ass of hers that had mesmerized him so completely. He wanted to spend some time with that belly ring. He had plans for that smart mouth. He wanted her in a thousand different ways—but he was getting ahead of himself.

Ajax lost his grip on her jaw and her head tipped back, her eyes shut tight behind the hooker lashes and her sweet mouth wide open, like she couldn’t handle the press of him against her, so tight and hot and good, right there where it counted. Her killer shoes held her just where he wanted her and Ajax was a man who always played to his strengths. He flexed against her and she moaned, and he fucking loved that sound, so he did it again. And again. Riding that clit. Making her writhe against him.

He turned his attention to those magnificent tits, gold tassels and all, and tested their weight and shape against his palms, their slight slope and the plump perfection of them almost too good be true. Almost. His mouth watered.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “I fucking love real tits.”

He wanted them in his mouth. He wanted to shove them together and slide his hungry cock between them. He wanted to see what color her nipples were, hard and hidden behind the gold tassels she wore, and he wanted to spend a whole lot of time sucking on them like candy. He had to make do with his hands instead.

Sophie stiffened, a crazy heat on her cheeks and her breath coming fast. Too fast. He felt her shake against him, the kind of fine, high tremble that came from deep inside, and he took her mouth again in a wet, deep, searing possession that was dangerous in public. He didn’t give a shit. He ate at her lush mouth, he rode her sweet little pussy through his jeans and what passed for her clothes, and then he pinched her nipples through the pasties. Hard.

And she went so tight and rigid he thought she might break in two.

He cupped the back of her head and tipped her face into the crook of his neck, following an urge he didn’t entirely understand, to keep what was happening to her all to himself, and he ran the hard thrust of his aching cock up high against her, banging that clit of hers again. And then again.

“Come, baby,” he ordered her, his mouth at her ear. “Come all over me.”

He heard a soft, high noise, cut off fast and then muffled, and he could feel her mouth open against his neck as she shook and shook, coming for him just as he’d commanded, in wave after shuddering wave, right there against the back wall of a Bourbon Street bar in broad daylight.

He’d never been so hard in his life.

For a long while, he stood there, Sophie limp and panting against him, wrapped up in his arms. He eased back from between her legs because it was that or just slide his way inside and go a little nuts, and he was losing perspective on the pros and cons of that one, fast. But once the red haze eased its claws out of him, Ajax gave in to another impulse he didn’t really get and smoothed his hand down her back. Up, then down, like he was soothing her. Like he was patting her.

Like he was the kind of man who gave a shit.

Before he could investigate all the ways he didn’t like that line of thought at all, Sophie stiffened against him. His smartass girl was back. He could feel her cute little fists press against his abdomen again. He felt as well as heard her pull in a deep breath. And then she pushed back from him, hard, and this time, he let her.

Her butt hit the wall and she threw out a hand to catch herself before she tumbled to the floor.

“A little unsteady?” Ajax drawled.