Luck of the Devil

by March, Meghan

  Indy’s lashes, darkened from the water, flutter as she looks up at me. “You caught me. I guess that means you get to keep me—for tonight.”

  Her blue eyes are still largely black, but there’s something in her gaze that brings out every protective instinct I’ve ever had. I want to shield her from the harsh reality of the world outside these walls, from me, from Bastien, from her father, from herself.

  I want to slay fucking dragons for this woman—even though I’m one of them.

  But right now, with the slick skin of her naked body sliding against mine and the puckered beads of her nipples pressing against my chest, I push it all aside. She’s right . . . tomorrow will be here soon enough, and in the sober light of morning, this sweet and naked Indy will be gone for good.

  What kind of man would I be if I pushed away what might be my last chance at paradise?

  A stupid one. And no one has accused me of being stupid in a long time.

  I slide my hands down her body to cup the cheeks of her ass and pull her against me.

  “You’re so hard,” she whispers, her eyes closed again as she tips her head back and the water sheets off her thick mane of hair. Her fingers wrap around my biceps and squeeze, as if testing their strength. “And so strong. Strong enough to tear me apart with your bare hands.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to promise that I’ll never hurt her, but that would be a lie. The omissions I’ve already made will shred any trust she could ever place in me, destroy any feelings for me I can’t help but wish she had.

  “I’ll protect you with them instead,” I tell her, lifting her. “Wrap your legs around my waist. I want to hold you.”

  I don’t know where the order comes from, because I’ve never told a woman I want to hold her before. Actually, I’ve never wanted to hold a woman like this before.

  Indy complies, and her calves cross over my ass, putting her pussy directly against my dick. It’s fucking torture of the most perfect kind.

  More than anything, I want to pick her up and slide her down on my cock, but this isn’t about what I want. This is about giving her what she needs. Maybe in some hidden recess of my mind, I’m hoping that if I make tonight good enough for her, she won’t demand a divorce and walk right out the door tomorrow.

  Unlikely.

  But still, the optimist in me decides it’s worth a shot.

  “Hold me under the water. It feels so good.”

  “Whatever you want, baby,” I say, letting the endearment slip out.

  Indy’s eyes snap open and she shakes her head. “Don’t use that throwaway shit on me. Ever.” She rocks her hips, rubbing her clit against my dick, and it feels like the most incredible punishment she could ever devise.

  “I can’t call you Indy because we’re not friends.”

  “True.” With her eyes drifting closed again, Indy drops her head back and allows it to loll back and forth, dragging her hair through the spray of the showerhead. “I guess your options are wife, prize, the pawn, ace in the hole . . . Does it really matter? Pretty soon, I won’t be anything to you.”

  She cuts to the heart of the matter so effectively that I have to wonder what the hell de Vere told her. Then again, de Vere shouldn’t have any information to give her . . . unless he’s involved with the Russians. Which means Federov’s playing me—or he has a leak in his organization.

  But that can all wait until I don’t have my naked wife in my arms who forbade me from fucking up her roll.

  “Ace in the hole. I like that one,” I tell her absently as I lift her higher so I can finally pull one nipple into my mouth and suck.

  “Oh God, that feels so good.” Indy rocks, rubbing her slick pussy and that little silver piercing against my abs as my dick presses snug against her ass crack. Where she’s a virgin.

  Never in my life have I been so turned on by the idea of being the one to take a woman’s virginity—any kind of virginity. But with Indy . . . things are different.

  As soon as this is over, she’ll be determined to forget me and everything that happened between us, and I have a feeling I’ll be doing the opposite. I’ll hold on to every memory, jacking myself into oblivion as I try to forget this woman.

  “You’re going to come just by rubbing that tight little cunt against me while I do this.” I bite down on the nipple closest to my mouth and scrape it with my teeth.

  “Oh . . .” Indy moans, rocking harder, like she’s already chasing an orgasm. “More.”

  I switch nipples, scraping, biting, tugging, and sucking on the other one until her whimpers fill the shower stall and the slickness on my abs has nothing to do with the water pouring from the fixtures in the shower.

  “I can’t—” She bucks against me. “I need more.”

  “I’ll give you what you need,” I tell her, sliding my hand around one ass cheek to press the pad of my index finger against her asshole.

  “Oh God. Oh God. Yes.”

  I slide my fingers up further to sweep back the wetness soaking her pussy and use it to lube up the clenched muscle trying to keep me out.

  “I’m going to finger-fuck your tight little asshole. Don’t try to keep me out.”

  “Please!”

  Another surge of blood rushes to my dick at her cry. I push through the resistance, and her ass opens for me like a damn miracle.

  Indy’s pleas turn to screams as her whole body convulses with pleasure. Her asshole tightens around my finger, signaling wave after wave of her orgasm. When her body finally goes limp and her legs fall from around my waist, I pull my finger free and lower her until her feet touch the tile floor.

  “No. Don’t put me down. I can’t—”

  She doesn’t have to say it twice. I sweep her up into my arms, holding her like a treasured bride I’m about to carry over the threshold.

  But I didn’t do that, because I was never supposed to feel anything about her other than the satisfaction I’d get from achieving my goals.

  With her cheek resting against my chest, I wonder if it’s even possible to undo how badly I’ve fucked up this situation.

  “Time for bed.”

  She nods, and I move us out of the spray, shouldering open the door.

  “It’s cold,” Indy protests, and I grab the robe she wouldn’t take before.

  In the dim light of the bathroom, her features look lazy and relaxed as I settle her on her feet, wrap the robe around her, and tuck her arms into the sleeves before tying the belt.

  “You need water.”

  She tries to step out of my hold, but I lift her again, loving the weight of her in my arms because she’s real and solid and mine. Even if it’s only for tonight. Part of me wants to thank de Vere for his fuckup, because it’s a gift that I won’t squander.

  I lay her on the massive bed and pull the coverlet up over her exposed toes before grabbing a bottle of water and removing the cap. As she sips, I realize her hair is soaking through her pillow.

  “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  I head for the bathroom and grab a thick towel, and also the candle I lit for God only knows what misguided reason. But I saw the way she looked at it, and I liked it.

  With the flickering flame safely on the nightstand, I wrap the towel around her hair and squeeze out as much of the water as I can.

  “It’s going to be a mess in the morning,” Indy mumbles.

  “Quit worrying.”

  Her eyes open and she looks at me. “We already know how this is going to end. You stonewalling and refusing to tell me anything. Then I’ll get pissed and walk away.” Her tone sounds so matter-of-fact, like there’s no other possible option.

  Bullshit. I’ll find another option.

  “You don’t know that,” I tell Indy as her eyes drift closed again.

  “Yes, I do. Because you won’t ever bend or change. You don’t know how, Forge. You always get your way, even if it means bulldozing anything standing in your path.” She shifts to lay her cheek on the pillow. “But I don�
��t much like being flattened. So that means I have to get out of your way before you crush me.” A tear leaks from one eye and trickles down the smooth, tanned skin of her face.

  Knowing what I know about MDMA, the words she’s speaking are what she believes are the absolute truth. And maybe she’s right. I am a bulldozer. I don’t let anything or anyone stop me from achieving my goals. I’ve never considered the human cost before, but Indy’s sad statement makes me picture it much too vividly.

  Is closing this deal worth destroying her?

  Before I can answer that question, Indy tugs at the tie of the robe and kicks at the blankets.

  “I’m hot, and I want you to eat my pussy.”

  13

  India

  When I’m rolling, I have no control over my words. They spill out of my lips freely, just like the tears I swipe away from my eyes.

  I shouldn’t care that Forge’s ambition will flatten me if I don’t run like hell in the other direction, but obviously I care too much.

  Don’t think about it right now.

  So instead of thinking, I flip open the sides of my robe and spread my legs like there’s not a single trace of shame or modesty in my entire body. And right now, there isn’t. I want him to make me come again like he did in the shower.

  When his finger pressed into my ass, I came unglued. The pleasure from it threatened to send me falling right to the floor, which is what I would have done if his strong arms and broad shoulders hadn’t been there to hold me up.

  What would it be like to always know someone would be there to catch you, no matter what? That you will never fall? That you’re safe?

  Another tear tracks down my face because I know that I’ll never be able to answer those questions.

  “Why the tears, Ace?” Forge catches one on his thumb, and I brush his hand away.

  When I threw out that nickname, I was completely joking. But for some reason, I like the way it sounds rolling off his tongue in that gruff voice.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, but he grips my wrists in one hand and pulls them down to my lap. One by one, Forge wipes the tears from my cheeks, but instead of stopping, they come faster.

  “You’re killing me here.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and try to make them stop, but I know it won’t work.

  “Make me scream instead,” I blurt.

  His touch falls away from my face, and the bed shifts as he moves lower. Forge’s palms skim down my thighs and send goose bumps rising across my skin.

  “I can do that. Just lay back and enjoy.”

  As soon as his hot breath washes over my center, I open my eyes and stare down at the dark head of hair between my legs. It falls forward, obscuring my view, but it doesn’t matter. I can feel what he’s doing to me just fine. When his tongue sweeps from the bottom of my pussy, all the way up—almost to my clit—I thread my fingers through his hair and grip.

  “Don’t tease me.”

  He lifts his face to meet my gaze. “That, I can’t promise.” His wide tongue lashes out and flicks my clit. “But you’ll be screaming my name when you come.”

  We both know he’s right, and he sets out to prove it to me in undisputable fashion. His tongue darts inside me, and he groans.

  “So fucking delicious. I could eat you all night.”

  “Mmm.” I moan in approval because I wouldn’t object . . . at least, not until I was dying for him to fill me.

  Somehow, he must be able to read my mind, because with his left hand, he presses a thick finger against my opening and it slides inside. I buck against his mouth as he sucks my clit hard. It doesn’t take long before my first orgasm is barreling down on me, and I’m on the edge.

  With a forceful plunge, his finger fills me, and I scream as I let go.

  “I can’t—”

  “Not stopping yet. You haven’t screamed my name. I want to hear it.”

  14

  Forge

  I don’t know why I care so much, but I’m a man on a mission. I want to hear Indy say it. Not Forge—Jericho. And I’m going to make her come over and over again until she breaks down and gives me what I want.

  Is it fair? I don’t fucking care. I’ve never cared about fair before, and I won’t start now when I’m going to lose her tomorrow.

  I lube up my thumb and go back to work, fucking her pussy with my finger as I slide my thumb into her ass while I suck and bite her clit.

  Indy’s head swings back and forth on the pillow, and when mixed with the effects of the drug, the pleasure has to be more overwhelming than what she’s experienced lately. Actually . . . I remember what she said earlier. I’m the only man who has touched her in ten years.

  Whatever happens next, I’m going to make one thing certain—the memory of me and what happens tonight will be burned in her brain in a way that she’ll never forget it.

  “Forge! I can’t—”

  I pull out my thumb and slide it back in. “Say my name, dammit.”

  Her cry breaks as her ass tenses. She’s coming again, and that’s when she gives me what I want, even if it’s only a whisper to start.

  “Jericho.”

  I bite down hard on her clit, and her entire body shakes as my name grows louder into a scream. I lift my head, but her hands bury in my hair and keep my face planted between her legs.

  “More.”

  It’s another plea, and one I can’t ignore. I also know that it’s selfish as fuck, but if I’m going to give her another orgasm, it’s going to happen with my dick buried so deep inside her tight little cunt that I’ll never forget the feel of her. I want the memory of her burned into me too.

  I pull away, not caring that strands of my hair stay gripped within her fingers. I fumble for the drawer of the nightstand, minding the candle on the top, and roll a condom down my dick. As soon as I’m covered, I move between her legs and plow forward.

  Her inner walls flutter and clamp down as tears stream from Indy’s closed eyes. I want to see them, even with the darkness almost completely shadowing the light.

  “Look at me.”

  Her eyes open, and with our gazes locked, I pound into her over and over, fucking her as if everything depends on this being the best goddamned night of her life.

  And maybe it does.

  This is the one thing I can give her without holding anything back. All of me for all of her.

  Her lids flutter, like she wants to close them, but I find her clit and press down. Detonation.

  “Yes! Jericho! Yes!”

  My orgasm pours out of me as soon as she says my name.

  15

  India

  As sleep fades away, my body feels heavy, like it’s weighed down by a truckload of cement. I try to lift my arm, but it’s pinned beneath an immovable object.

  I open my eyes, but the room is pitch black. The only sound is the quiet breathing of the man beside me. The one whose entire body is wrapped around mine.

  Forge. Or Jericho, as I called him last night as he wrenched more pleasure from my body than I’ve ever experienced.

  As much as I want to say it was all the drugs, I know it’s a lie. Sure, they might heighten the experience, but nothing can make a bad lover into an incredible one.

  Forge is more than incredible, and that can’t just be my limited scale of experience doing the measuring. He strikes me as a man ruthless in every aspect—especially when it comes to pleasing his partner in bed.

  And you’ve got to stop being all dick-struck, Indy. It’s morning, and the reality check hits me hard, even as my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

  I tug my arm out from under Forge and roll over to see a bottle of water on the nightstand. Thank you, Lord. But I know it’s not the Lord I need to be thanking.

  With quiet and careful movements, I roll out of bed, hoping like hell I don’t wake the sleeping beast. I need a shower, food, and to get my feet firmly under me before I’m ready for the confrontation that’s coming.

&n
bsp; I take the water bottle into the shower and try not to think about how I lost every single hint of inhibition last night and taunted him into joining me. Hot shame flushes my cheeks, and I hop into the enclosure for a completely different reason—to wash away the memories.

  It only takes a burst of cold water to wake me up.

  “Shit!” I dart out of the freezing needles and slap at the taps to turn it warmer.

  After a minute, I step back under the spray. My hair is a giant knot of a mess, and I grab the shampoo off the niche built into the tile and attempt to scrub it clean. Conditioner helps even more. Thankfully, the knot on my temple has gone down and no longer aches.

  I rush through the process, not wanting an audience this morning, but when I turn off the water and spin around to reach for the door handle, Forge is already waiting.

  Once again, he has a robe in his hands, and he’s watching me intently.

  With heat racing up my cheeks, I reach out to snatch the robe out of his grip. Using it to cover my body, I spin around and shove my soaking-wet arms into the sleeves, fighting as they get stuck.

  Forge waits in silence as my emotions crush the walls I boxed them in with last night. Humiliation, betrayal, and anger rise as one like a phoenix from the ashes.

  “I want a divorce.” The words are out of my mouth before I even realized that’s what I planned to say, but Forge’s stoic face is unreadable. “Did you hear me? I said I want a divorce.”

  Nothing. Not a hint of reaction. I wait for a response, but when nothing comes, I nod.

  “Good talk. Glad that’s done and we’re on the same page.” I sweep around him like I haven’t a care in the world.

  Forge’s hand snaps out and wraps around my upper arm. “We’re not done.”

  “Yes, we are. You lied to me. Played me. Tricked me. Whatever the hell you want to call it—and I’m done. Out. Finished. Go fuck yourself and play your games with someone else.”

  “I didn’t lie to you.”