Hard Core (Hard As Nails Book 3)

by Hope Conrad

  His eyes freeze on me as I glide out of the shorts and they pool on the floor. I kick them away, and stand before him in my bra and panties. I’m more than vulnerable. I’m scared and shaking. If I can’t dance for him, how am I going to dance for anyone else?

  I take a moment to breathe, to remember why I’m doing this. I take a moment to give myself the push I need to continue on, and reason with myself that practicing for Axel is the very best thing I can do if I’m ever going to get on that damn stage.

  He sees me frozen before him and hooks his finger toward me, beckoning for me to approach.

  I do as commanded, clumsily stepping toward him until I’m standing between his parted knees. It’s here that I lose my nerve, and freeze again. This is not going as planned.

  He gives me a bit of a boost, reaching behind my back and pulling me down onto his lap in a straddling position.

  “I don’t think this is how this is supposed to work,” I whisper nervously, but am unsure if he can hear me over the music.

  “Dance,” he commands, and I’m still unsure if he heard me. It doesn’t matter. I buck against him, my panties scratching against the denim of his jeans. Through the denim, I can feel his hard cock and I crave to be filled, if for no other reason than fucking is so much easier on the nerves than dancing.

  “You’re so fucking sexy,” he purrs against my heaving chest and rises to stand, picking me up with his strong arms. He carries me to the pole, where my back is greeted by the cold metal.

  I’m torn between the extremes of his warmth and the cold metal. It’s excruciating. He laps his mouth against my neck as he lowers me to my feet. As he begins to assault my neck with his tongue, and then his teeth, one strong hand crawls into my panties.

  I hook my foot around his, fighting to stay standing but it’s too much of a chore. He assists me in my failed efforts, pinning my body against the pole with his hard body as he finds my opening, and runs his palm against my clit.

  “I thought…” I stutter, catch my breath, and then continue, “you just wanted me to dance.”

  “That’s exactly what we’re doing.” He nibbles against the lobe of my ear. “We’re dancing.” He pushes two fingers into my opening, spreading my pussy by scissoring them apart. “The way you squirm. The way you tease me, and I tease you. It’s a dance all right.”

  I want to respond, perhaps sarcastically. But I can’t. I’m too occupied trying to breathe, to remain standing. I’m fighting to remain conscious, because I’ve been in this studio practicing for hours and I’ve been working myself up the entire time.

  He gives me three fingers now, and I feel full, but crave more. I want his cock inside me. I want him filling me up until I can’t breathe. Until I feel him in my throat.

  “Please,” I beg, low and more than ready. “Fuck me, Axel.”

  “I told you,” he growls and thrusts his fingers into me until he’s knuckle deep, “I’m not here to fuck. I’m here to dance.”

  A silent quiver rides a wave on my lips as I adjust to the thickness of his rough fingers. I feel full, but want more. Need more. Crave more. I rock against his touch, trying to force him in deeper, to give me what I want.

  “Fuck me.” I command, but he’s content to continue torturing me. “Just do it,” I growl when he doesn’t respond with words, only the thrusting of his fingers.

  I feel myself reaching for a violent yet illusive peak, my toes tapping against the wood floors while my foot strains against its hold around his ankle.

  “That’s good,” he purrs. “That look on your face is maddening when you’re about to come.”

  “I’m not—” I begin to lie through gritted teeth, but my body stops me dead in my tracks as I come around his fingers, slick and hard. I moan as I throw my head back against the pole, my entire body shattering as he continues to drive his fingers in and out of me, finger fucking me through my release, and then after.

  And just when I’m about to return to reality, he grabs me fast and hard and the two of us fumble to the ground. He’s on top of me, his heavy, muscular body suffocating me as he pushes me deeper against the floor.

  He continues his assault with his fingers, pulling me inside out with a reckless, mind-numbing pace. It’s too much, too soon after my first break, but I can already feel myself building toward a second climax.

  From down the hall, I hear a door slam shut. Somebody else is here. There’s a brief moment of fear, where I think we could be caught red-handed, that somebody could soon be watching us. But I let the fear subside, because I can’t bring myself to care.

  All I want right now is his cock inside of me but it’s clear he wants to torture me; for what purpose, I can’t be sure. I try to hold back another plea for satisfaction.

  He pulls his slick fingers from my pussy and caresses my clit with his palm. With every rough stroke, I feel myself speeding toward another orgasm, but God, I just want him fucking inside me.

  Need overrides pride.

  “Please,” I beg once more.

  “Yeah?” His voice is hard and ragged, husky and deep. “Aren’t you worried someone will see us?”

  I simply shake my head, and force my eyes closed as I hit the point of no return. My toes curl against the hardwood floors, and my fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt, trying to hold onto him as I break away from this world and into the next.

  But just when I’m about to come, he stops.

  He lifts his hand away from my clit, and the orgasm that seemed so imminent suddenly evades me. I whimper in confusion just before he tries to crawl away from me.

  I don’t fucking think so. I grip onto his shirt tighter, trying to pull him back close to me. But he’s too strong, and in this game of tug of war, he breaks away from me and rises to his feet.

  He looks at me with dark, feral eyes even as he reaches for my hand to help me up. Automatically, I give it to him and he gently pulls me to my feet. Maybe he heard or saw something, I realize. Maybe someone is headed this way, and he’s saving me the embarrassment of being caught in the act. Quickly, I scramble for my clothes, pulling them on and adjusting them to make sure I’m covered. When I’m done, a quick glance at the door reveals we’re still alone. I frown, shaking and vulnerable, irritated but also fulfilled. A man has never made me come so fast and so hard with only a few strokes of his fingers.

  “What is your problem?” I question him as I finally take back control of my breathing. “Why did you stop?”

  He finishes buttoning his jeans and then slips his tee back on. “Are you not satisfied?” he asks with a furrowed brow.

  I push my hair away from my face. “It was good, but I wanted more.”

  He nods. “So you know exactly how I’ve been feeling then.”

  “Excuse me? What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m done with you keeping your heart from me, Angel. I want it. And if the only way you’re going to let me in is by me proving to you I want more than your body, that’s how it’s going to be. With neither one of us coming again until you agree to give me a chance, and that means going on a real date with me.”

  I stare at him in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re kidding. That you’re not using sexual blackmail against me.”

  “Don’t really like the term sexual blackmail, but since I’m saying you can’t have my dick again—or my fingers or tongue for that matter—until you go out with me, I can’t deny that’s what it is.”

  “You bastard,” I whisper.

  “You’re right. Sometimes I am a bastard. Still, when I had you pinned against that pole, and you broke around my fingers? That’s the last time you’re going to be coming at my hands until I get what I want. Just remember that you’re not going to be alone in your frustration. I’m fucking dying right now with the need to be inside you. And if you’re not coming, then neither am I. You at least got something to last you for a while.”

  My mouth drops open. “That’s because you knew you were going to pull this bullshit,” I
yell.

  He closes the distance between us and presses a strong hand against my waist, pulling me in close to him. His touch is still too much, too soon. “If you want me to keep fucking you until you see stars, then you’re going to need to let me into your life a little more.”

  I pull away, my anger so hot I’m practically seeing stars right here, right now. “With this stunt, you’ve guaranteed letting you into my life is the last thing that’s ever going to happen. You do not get to dictate how things go.”

  He shrugs. “I’m afraid when it comes to where I put my hands, or my tongue, or my cock, you’re wrong.”

  “Fine,” I say. “Have it your way.”

  I turn and start gathering my things, furious when tears of frustration well in my eyes. When I’m done, I have no choice but to swipe at my eyes when my tears begin to overflow. When I straighten with my duffle bag in my hand, I feel his hands fall gently on my shoulders.

  “Angel,” he says softly, his voice tinged with regret.

  “Don’t you dare,” I spit out.

  He turns me around and cups my chin in his hand, gently but resolutely forcing me to look at him. When I do, he’s gazing at me with obvious tenderness.

  “I’m not trying to piss you off or hurt you. I just don’t know what else to do to make you believe me. I want to know more about you than how you make my cock feel.”

  I take a deep breath. “I know it’s usually the girl who’s supposed to be the clingy one, the one who wants to be more than just fuck-buddies. I’m not that girl. I’m not going on a date with you, Axel.”

  He smiles gently, lets me go, and takes a step back. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Axel

  I’m playing a dangerous game, and I know it. But the truth is, it wasn’t a game I even knew I was going to start until just before I’d pulled away from her, leaving her reaching for a second climax. It finally hit me that even as I kept giving Alyssa more and more of myself, even as she broke apart in my arms day after day, she still found it far too easy to keep the essence of who she was from me.

  I’d envisioned days and weeks passing where we acted out the same routine, and I’d known I’d reached the end of the line. A man could only tell a woman he wanted more from her for so long if she wasn’t willing to give it to him. We couldn’t keep going on as we had.

  My work at Sugar Bare had been done days ago. Walt and his men were back in line, and if it weren’t for Alyssa, I would have already returned to start work at Nailed Garage. I’d put my life on hold for this girl, and I’d keep doing it if I thought we were headed in the right direction, but with the way things stand now…

  Either she’s going to have to bend or I’m going to have to walk away from her.

  One or the other.

  And I’m not prepared to walk away. Not yet.

  So I act like a bastard by using sexual blackmail to try to get through to her. It will work or it won’t. Either way, whether we end or whether we move forward in our relationship is in her hands.

  Of course, I can’t help but try to sway her in the right direction.

  Later that night, when we’re working at the club, I keep my eye on her at all times—nothing unusual there—but I don’t keep my distance. I don’t stand with my back resting against the bar, waiting to jump in if she needs me.

  No. Not tonight.

  Tonight, I make a point of shadowing her, moving around her, brushing my body against hers, even when she’s trying to deliver a full plate of drinks to a table. I’m within an arm’s reach when she’s taking orders, and I’m following her to the bar when she goes to grab the drinks from the bartender.

  I’m marking her and I’m claiming her for the entire place to see. Alyssa’s been doing a stand-up job of ignoring me for the most part, but for the last thirty minutes, she hasn’t been able to hide the look of frustration plastered on her face. The vibes coming from us must be truly intense because I notice everyone, from staff to clientele, watching us a little nervously.

  She carries a tray of empty glasses from a boisterous table, and I’m right behind her when she scoots the tray of glasses toward a male bartender and turns around to face me.

  “Are you going to follow me around all night?” she questions with a light huff and crosses her arms over each other.

  “That’s my job. You look gorgeous as always.” I inch toward her and whisper into her ear. “I’ve got to keep my eyes on an ass like yours, so men like those men…” I point my finger to a random man in the crowd, older, sweaty and overweight, “…don’t touch.”

  “Your jealousy is almost as infuriating as your arrogance,” she says. “And just so you know, you are insuring not only will I never go on a date with you, I wouldn’t let you touch me again if you got down on your knees and begged me.”

  I raise a brow. “Baby, I think we’ve already established, if I get down on my knees in front of you, you’re the one who’s going to be begging. And I’m going to be the one withholding until you give me what I want. I’m going for broke here. And I will win.”

  She narrows her eyes then leans forward. “You’re not the only one who can go all in, Axel. You think I can’t make you break?”

  “You can certainly try,” I say.

  When a wicked expression flashes across her face, I’m not overly concerned. Until she takes a step forward and, in full view of anyone who might be watching us—which I’m pretty sure are a lot of people given how I’ve been behaving— she rises on her tip toes to kiss me softly, nibble at my lip, then whisper in my ear even as she lowers one hand to my abs. “I warned you not to get the wrong impression of me,” she says. “I am not some weak, helpless girl, remember?”

  My body is tense, my chest tight from holding my breath. The look of challenge and defiance on her face, combined with her touch, makes my cock throb against denim, begging to be free from my constricting jeans. I’ve never believed her to be a weak, helpless girl, and that’s obviously never been truer than right now. I tell myself this is all an act. I mean, after all, she’s an aspiring actress. She’s not really going to—

  I gasp as her hand crawls into my jeans and, slips beneath my tight boxer briefs. Her warm flesh meets mine, and her fingers close around my cock. The noisy chatter in the club fades to virtual silence around us, and a quick glance confirms those close to us, including the bartender, are watching.

  More specifically, they’re watching her hand inside my pants and on my dick.

  Fuck, her sheer boldness has almost blown my resolve to smithereens. I want her to know what it’s like to want something bad, and to have it so close. I want her to know what it’s like to want something so bad, you’d do anything to get it. But I’m a hair’s breadth from throwing her on top of the bar, ripping her clothes off, and fucking her in front of everyone until she can’t walk.

  It takes all the willpower I can muster to yank her hand away. I squeeze her wrist in warning, but she smiles, thinking she’s won.

  I lift her hand and kiss her fingers, and her smile disappears. I reach out a hand to caress her cheek with the backs of my fingers.

  In comparison to her flagrantly sexual touch just seconds ago, mine is deliberately tender. Loving even. And I make sure those emotions are reflected in my eyes.

  She’s definitely thrown. Thrown enough that she looks away, takes several steps back, and turns back to the bar to grab the full tray of drinks. When she turns around, she avoids my gaze. Her gait isn’t quite steady as she heads to deliver her drinks.

  Since she’s not looking, I quickly rearrange myself in my jeans and glower at anyone who dares look me in the eye. Then I follow her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alyssa

  When my shift is over, I barrel out the back door of the club and walk swiftly to my car, only to realize when I get to it that Axel is still shadowing me. Fine. I’m overcome by the urge to drive away and flip him off while I leave him in th
e dust, and I don’t think I’ll be able to resist.

  Only when I get behind the wheel, Axel continues his maddening behavior by climbing into the passenger seat. “What the hell are you doing? Get out!”

  He crosses his arms over his chest. “Nope. We need to talk.”

  He has been working me up all night. It’s not who I am, or who I was before I met him, but there’s something about him that draws me to his cock. There’s a truckload of tension—sexual and otherwise between us—and I’m going to lay that burden at his feet. I open my mouth to scream at him, to tell him to leave me alone for good, but then I see something flash in his eyes.

  It’s the oddest combination of resolve and resignation. Like even as he’s determined to keep pushing at me, part of him knows I’ll never let him in. And he’s prepared to accept it and walk away from me.

  The idea of him walking away frightens me more than I ever thought possible.

  Suddenly, all the anger I was about to unleash on him morphs into a desperate yearning for this man who seems so damn determined to worm his way into my heart.

  I’m constantly stressed out, and he steals away all the stress from me one fuck at a time. He’s the medicine I so desperately need and crave. I don’t want to lose him. I just can’t give him all of me, doesn’t he understand that?

  “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any man,” I say suddenly, and I can tell by his widened eyes I’ve shocked him.

  “And I’ve never wanted a woman more than you,” he admits.

  I swallow hard. “Then why can’t that be enough? Why can’t you be happy with what I have to give, even if it is only sex?”

  He opens his mouth to respond, and I know he’s going to say something about his feelings for me, and I’m filled with the knowledge that I’m about to cave. In desperation, I reach across the mere inches of distance between us and pop the top button of his jeans with an agile flick of my finger.