Blackmailing the Bad Girl (Cutting Loose)

by Nina Croft

  “Come home with me.” He spoke quietly, and for a moment she thought she’d misheard. “Just the once. With nothing bad between us.” God, she wanted to. “Then from tomorrow, we’ll be just friends. You’ll work for me because you want to, not because I’m holding something over you.”

  He took her hand hanging limply by her side, raised it to his mouth, kissed her palm, then pressed it to his chest. The heat of his skin burned through the cotton, and she could feel the rapid thud of his heart.

  He held his hand over hers, siding her palm down over his body, until it rested against his erection. It pulsed, and her fingers curved to grasp him through the material of his jeans.

  “That’s what you do to me.”

  Would once be so bad? Once more, her traitorous brain reminded her.

  “Come on, Summer, one night in my bed. I won’t ask for more.”

  Before she could convince herself it was a mistake of gargantuan proportions, she nodded her head. A smile spread across his face, then he grabbed her hand and hustled her out of the alley. It must have been fate, because as they came out onto the main street, a black cab drove past. Nik raised his hand, and it pulled up beside them. He gave the driver the address and then propelled her into the backseat, not letting go of her hand, as though he thought she might bolt. They were driving west, the streets getting wider. They didn’t talk in the cab, but he kept his grip on her hand, caressing her palm with his fingers. She decided not to think. Thinking was not good right now.

  Finally, the cab drew up in front of a crescent-shaped row of houses, white-faced, Georgian at a guess, with five floors. They’d pulled up by the end house, and Nik paid the driver and tugged her out after him. He pressed his finger to a pad by the gate, input a number, and the double gates opened. The house stood only a few meters back from the road, and the dark red front door opened as if by magic.

  The door led into a wide hallway, marble-floored, with several dark wooden doors leading off, and a wide staircase to the left. Nik didn’t lead her to the stairs, but to an elevator just to the side of it. The doors parted as he approached. He entered, and so did she; she didn’t have much choice—he still had tight hold of her. Hadn’t released her since she’d said yes.

  “You have an elevator in your house.” It was a lame thing to say, but it was better than nothing. She’d never known anyone with an elevator in their house.

  He glanced down at her and grinned. “I normally use the stairs, but I want to conserve my energy.”

  The elevator took them to the very top of the house and opened directly into a huge room, with the biggest bed she had ever seen on a platform in the middle.

  “Welcome to my place.”

  …

  She still had that slightly dazed expression on her face. He was quite aware he’d taken advantage of her. If he hadn’t blown her mind with that very impressive orgasm, he doubted she would be here now. But he had.

  She’d been so fucking responsive.

  His erection had subsided a little on the cab drive over; now it raged to life again, pushing almost painfully at his fly.

  All he wanted was to get her naked on that bed, push himself in as far as he could go. Lose himself in her.

  He blew out his breath. He should show a little restraint. She was in his home; he should offer her…something. A drink? A cup of tea? A night of nonstop sex?

  He’d never brought anyone here before. He usually took women back to the apartment he kept nearer the office. That place was impersonal and held nothing of him. This was his home.

  “Can I get you anything?” he asked.

  She jumped at the sound of his voice. She’d been staring at his bed. He liked that.

  She cleared her throat. “Er, no. I’m fine.” She tugged free of his hand, and he reluctantly released her. Then she walked slowly into the room, peering around her. “I like your place.”

  “This was the attics when I moved in. Servants’ quarters. I had it converted.” He loved the view over London at night.

  “So where are the servants now?”

  “First floor.”

  She’d been gazing out the window, but now she turned to look at him, her brows drawn together. “You know, I wasn’t actually expecting an answer to that. You actually have servants?”

  He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. “It’s a big house.”

  She smirked. “So, what do you have? Do you have a scullery maid?”

  “I don’t actually think I’ve got a scullery.” What the hell was a scullery, anyway?

  “A butler?”

  She thought he was funny. “I have a housekeeper and a chauffeur—who you’ve already met. They’re married and share a self-contained suite on the first floor. I believe there are also a couple of women who come in daily, but I’m not sure of the details. And maybe a cook…?”

  “You have servants and you don’t even know how many.”

  “I have enough.”

  “You have more than enough.” But she sounded amused, and she took a step toward him, trailed her hand down his chest, catching her fingers on the buttons of his shirt. Heat streaked through him as her hand settled just above the waistband of his jeans. His dick twitched, and her gaze shot to his face.

  “Does someone help you undress at night?”

  “No. I undress myself.”

  She trailed her fingers back up, flicked open the top button, and his breath caught in his throat. “Should I stop then?”

  “No, don’t stop.” His voice sounded hoarse.

  She unfastened the next button, then the next, until the shirt was open. As she flattened a palm against his bare skin, he closed his eyes for a moment. They flew open as Summer’s hand slid lower to settle on the waistband of his jeans. She tucked one finger inside and tugged him a little closer.

  “Do you like telling people what to do?” she asked.

  Christ, what was the right answer? “No…yes…no.”

  “How about—do you like people telling you what to do? Now, think carefully about your answer.”

  He swallowed the “hell, no” hovering on the edge of his tongue. “It depends,” he said cautiously.

  He didn’t know her in this mood. She seemed almost…playful.

  “On what?”

  “Who’s doing the telling and what they’re telling me to do.” He reached out, slid a hand under the hair at the back of her neck. “I think I might like you telling me what to do.”

  “Let’s see. Put your hands behind your head.”

  He hesitated for a moment, and she withdrew her finger, backing away a little. Shit, he didn’t know what she was up to, but he wanted to find out. He slowly put his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers together.

  She stared at him for at least a minute, her eyes wide, then she swiped her tongue over her lower lip, and he groaned. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it quickly, because, sweetheart, I’m about to explode.”

  “Really?”

  She clearly liked that.

  He decided to let her have her fun and clamped his lips. She stared at him with huge eyes, a pulse beating in her throat. Then she placed both hands almost tentatively on his bare chest and stroked upward, pushing his shirt out of the way. Her lips curled in a pleased smile. She trailed her fingertips over his chest, scraping her nails over his nipples. His dick was almost painful now.

  Finally, she turned her attention back to his belt, tugging it open, then pausing to run her fingers over the length of his erection. She was humming under her breath, teasing him. But he didn’t care. She seemed to have shrugged off her doubts and worries, and until they were gone, he hadn’t realized how big a part of her they were. And he didn’t want to spoil that. So if she wanted him to stand still while she tormented him to death, then he’d do his best.

  Her fingers were fumbling with the button on his jeans, then at last it was open. She tugged his zipper down, and he groaned again. The relief was enormous.

  She stepped back, examining he
r handiwork. Sliding her hands into his pants, she pushed them down over his hips. He glanced down as his shaft sprang free, as hard as it had ever been in his life before. He needed to be inside her, and he started to lower his hands.

  “Don’t move.”

  Shit.

  Was she doing this on purpose? To pay him back for blackmailing her? Then she was sinking to her knees in front of him, and his mind went blank. He stared down at her. She was intent on studying his cock, and it jerked and twitched toward her. She hooked her hair behind her ears, then shuffled forward on her knees, so close he could feel her breath, cool against his heated skin.

  Was she going to get up? Walk away? Torture him some more?

  She licked her lips, and his hips pushed forward without any instruction from his mind. Then she slowly licked from the base of his cock to the tip. He couldn’t take his eyes off the sight. She swirled her tongue around the head, then placed a kiss on the tip and sat back on her heels.

  He waited. Did she want him to beg?

  “Come on, Summer, don’t make me beg.”

  She gave herself a little shake and looked up the line of his body. Her eyes were huge. “Sorry, I was just admiring…it.”

  Okay, he could live with that.

  “It’s very pretty.”

  Pretty?

  “And quite big.”

  Quite?

  Then she grinned and without another word she took the head of his cock in her mouth and sucked. His head went back and he gave himself up to the sensations flooding his system. She took him as far in as she could, and he fought from pushing forward, not wanting to hurt her. He bit back his words of advice—she hadn’t said he could talk, and he did not want to give her an excuse to stop this. But she seemed to realize the problem—that he was actually not only quite big—and wrapped one small hand around the base of his cock. He relaxed a little, knowing he could thrust without choking her. For minutes, he closed his eyes and let the sensations build in his cock and his balls. Her other hand shifted between his thighs, her fingers stroking, then squeezing gently. The pleasure swelled, and he came in a rush. His hands moved to slide into her hair while he spilled himself into her mouth.

  She squeezed his balls, and he couldn’t stop, pumping into her mouth.

  Finally, he stopped moving, his hands still in her hair, her forehead resting against his stomach. He exhaled, closed his eyes. “That was so fucking good.”

  She pulled back and peered up at him. “I’m glad.”

  He held out his hand. Her small hand slipped into his, and he pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go to bed.”

  …

  He lowered his head and kissed her, his lips parting, his tongue pushing inside. He kissed her long and deeply, wet kisses that saturated her senses with the taste and feel of him.

  Something was different from the previous times they’d kissed. Maybe the hint of desperation was missing. Always before, there had been that feeling that it shouldn’t be happening, that it wasn’t real, that something would break them apart.

  This time, she relaxed into the caress, let her mind empty of everything but sensation. She was vaguely aware of him picking her up, then lowering her, coming down over her, pressing her down into the mattress. Somewhere along the way he’d lost his shirt, and the heat of his skin burned against her.

  He finally broke the kiss and raised his head. His fingers pushed the hair from her face as he gazed down into her eyes. “I told myself this wasn’t real,” he murmured. “But it’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt. I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

  She lifted her hand and rested her palm against the rough skin of his cheek. “I want you, too.”

  His beautiful lips curved into a smile, and he twisted his head, kissing her palm. “We’d be fools to deny ourselves. And you’re not a fool, Summer.”

  No, she wasn’t.

  He kissed her lips, then trailed more kisses down her throat, while one hand pushed the straps of her dress down her arms, baring her breasts. Her nerves tingled, her body melting as he stroked his warm, wet tongue over her skin.

  Slipping her fingers into his silky hair, she released the last of her worries and gave herself up to pure feeling.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sun streaming through the windows woke her. For a moment, Summer had no clue where she was. She blinked and pushed herself up, pulling the sheet over her breasts. She was in the biggest bed she had ever seen.

  White cotton sheets and a black-and-gray throw. Very masculine.

  And she was naked. Her dress lay on the floor beside the bed, her shoes just inside the door, her panties across the black metal bedstead.

  There was no sign of the owner of the bed.

  She hadn’t taken in much of the room last night. Her mind had been too focused on other things. Now she looked around, if only to stop herself thinking about Nik.

  And what came next.

  Did they go back to being friends?

  Could they go back?

  The night had been beyond anything she could have ever imagined. Nik had made love to her over and over through the long hours of darkness. He’d taken her from behind, with her on top, spooning—waking her in the middle of the night, his lips hot against the back of her neck.

  There was an ache between her thighs. But a pleasant ache.

  She should get up and get dressed. Get out of there. The night was over. It was time to get back to real life. But she didn’t move. Instead, she just lay staring out the window at the deep blue of the sky.

  She didn’t know how much later it was before Nik appeared in the doorway. He’d pulled on his jeans—it wouldn’t do to bump into the servants naked—but nothing else, and he was so beautiful, he made her ache.

  His hair was messy, his jawline shadowed. And he was carrying a tray.

  “I brought you breakfast,” he said.

  “Don’t you have someone to do that for you?”

  “I wanted to do it myself.”

  Aw. He was sweet.

  As he placed the tray on her lap, the scent of warm bread wafted up, and her stomach rumbled. There were two mugs of coffee and two plates of scrambled eggs on the tray, plus a basket of warm rolls and butter. He picked up one of the plates and a fork, then settled himself on the bed beside her, his long legs crossed at the ankles. “Eat.”

  So she did. She cleared her mind from worrying about what came next and concentrated on the food. “Did you make this?” she asked, between mouthfuls of fluffy scrambled eggs flavored with smoked salmon.

  “Of course…not.”

  “I suppose your housekeeper is used to making your lady friends breakfast.”

  He buttered a roll and handed it to her. “I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

  “Oh.”

  He was doing her head in with those sorts of comments. She didn’t know what to think. Why he was being like this?

  Nice.

  She bit into the roll and chewed slowly. While she’d denied it to herself, because it was pretty unbelievable, she’d always known deep down that he wanted her. Right from the start, it had been there in his eyes. She’d tried to ignore it, because she’d felt the same way, all the time knowing a relationship with Nik could go nowhere beyond a brief sexual fling.

  There were still so many lies between them. No relationship built on lies could ever succeed. And she couldn’t risk telling him the truth and jeopardizing her mother’s happiness. Her mother’s financial security was based on the proceeds of the first job Summer had done—stolen money. She’d used part to buy and convert the house her mother now lived in, and with the rest, she’d set up a trust fund that gave her an income and independence. If Nik should turn on her…

  She put down her fork and her half-eaten roll. “I should go.”

  “No, you shouldn’t. I thought we might go out.”

  “Go out where?”

  He shrugged, a frown flickering across his face. “Go for a walk? Somewher
e we can talk.”

  Talk about what?

  She cast him a sideways glance and found him studying her in return.

  “I don’t know why or what,” he said. “But there’s something between us. Something good. Hell, better than good. No one has ever made me feel the way you do.”

  “You don’t like that?”

  “I like it and I hate it.” He put down his plate and scrubbed a hand through his already-messy hair. “I lost my faith in people a long time ago.”

  “I get it. You’ll never trust me.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I suppose the question is—do you want me to? I thought I was everything you hated. Rich, immoral…”

  “And I’m a thief.”

  “We make a good pair.” He sighed. “One thing—I’m rich enough that if you stay with me, you’ll never need to steal again.”

  She went still at his words. He clearly had no faith in her ability to remain honest. And she had no clue what he was suggesting. Stay with him? It had such a sound of permanence. She’d expected him to say he wanted an affair. Get this attraction out of their systems as he’d suggested back in the beginning.

  “You’re thinking too much.” He picked up the tray and put it on the table beside the bed. “There’s one way I can persuade you.” He took her in his arms, lowered his head and…the phone rang.

  Nik went still, then slowly pushed himself upright. He blew out his breath. “I have to take that. They wouldn’t have put it through if it wasn’t important.” He picked up the receiver and listened for a moment. “I’ll be right there.”

  He put the phone down and looked at her. “Stay here. Finish your breakfast. Go have a shower or something. I’ll be back.” He got up, grabbed his shirt from the back of a chair, and pulled it on, and then he was gone. Her appetite had vanished, but she sipped at her coffee and kept her mind blank.