by AJ Adams
He was towering over me; eyes narrowed, muscles rippling under the black tee, and exuding danger. It was the best turn-on ever, but in the river of my libido, a tiny voice of sanity was keeping a head above water. I didn’t know this man and I had given him considerable grief. Now we were alone, I didn’t want him beating the hell out of me.
“I like games,” I squeaked.
The muscles flexed and bulged. “I was captain of the rugby team.”
I breathed again. “Good. You’re into rough and tumble too then.”
“Let’s say I have some ideas.” He ran a finger down my cheek, the gentle touch setting happy shivers running right through me. “And you’re the perfect playmate.”
“Oh?” I was sopping wet, just at the thought of the fun and games to come. “What ideas?”
Rex picked up a silk tie from a chair. “Turn around.”
I was obeying without conscious thought. “Wha-” He had my belt off in a second flat. “Oh, but -” Hands gripped the hem of my dress and tugged up briskly. Standing in my undies, my arms still up in the air, “Hey!” My bra was falling to the floor before I could turn about. “Watch it!”
But he had my wrists in an iron grip. “Shut up.” His breath huffed in my ear. “You’re mine now.”
Whether it was the sailing or maybe he’d been a Boy Scout, Rex knew his knots. I was on tiptoes, hands efficiently tied to the four-poster.
His hands were running over my breasts. Large, warm and gentle, with fingers tweaking my nipples. He was taking his time, exploring deliciously. I leaned into the hot body behind mine, shut my eyes, and enjoyed myself.
My head was rolling back, leaning against his shoulder. Cradled in his arms, I felt protected; caressed by the knowing hands, I was sure of good times to come. I was aware of my breath quickening, and of the slickness between my legs.
When one hand moved down, rubbing the silk softly, I was spreading my knees suggestively. “You feel good.”
“And yet, I’m remembering you blackmailed me.”
Oh-oh. “You’re going to punish me?” I was panting at the thought.
“Yes.” He blew in my ear, teased my puckered nipples, and stepped back. “Punishment it is.” He slapped me on the arse in a thoughtful way. “You can stand there for the rest of the night, and think about your behaviour.”
I was on tiptoe, twisting around, and saying, “What do you mean?”
“You figure it out,” he laughed. “I’m off for a shower.”
And then he vanished.
At first I was stunned, but as the shower sounds came through the door, it dawned on me that I’d made a mistake. I’d worried he’d beat me, but the bugger had thought up a much meaner revenge. He’d teased me into expecting great sex, but the bastard was going to leave me there.
The silk tie was tight and tightening as I pulled at it. I was cursing a blue streak when the bathroom door opened. “That’s very unladylike language.” He was exactly as advertised: long, lean body, rippling with muscle, and a cock that could bat for England. “You’re a very naughty girl.”
“Bastard! Let me down!”
He lay down on the bed, cock straight up, and put his hands behind his head. “Persuade me.”
If I could have killed him with a look, he’d have exploded into flame. “You wanker!”
“Nope, no good.” He was settling down. “I feel a nap coming on.”
“Hell!” I twisted and pulled, but it was no good. “Fuck!”
“I might.” His eyes narrowed with wickedness. “You’ll have to talk me into it.”
My brain caught up with my ears. “Talk you -? Oh!” It was a game after all. I took a deep breath and shimmered. “I want to feel your hands on me.”
His grin told me I was on the right track.
“Rough hands, playing with my nipples.”
His cock twitched encouragingly.
“I can feel my breasts warm as you caress me, your breath is in my ear.”
He leaned a hand on his erection. “Tell me more.”
I was getting into it again too. “My clit is throbbing, and you know it.” Oh yeah! “You find me irresistible.”
Rex was sitting up, grinning. He reached out, running a fingernail over my black silk knickers. “Go on.”
Swaying suggestively, I licked my lips. “Your fingers move the silk aside, fingering the hot nub delicately.”
He did.
“S-shivers rush through me.” I was pulsing, breath tight and huffing. “You slide a finger deep into me. Slow. Teasing.”
He was stroking away, following my lead.
“Gently stroking... Erm, you kiss my belly.” Oh, those lips! “Running a teasing tongue - oh yum.”
His touch set me on fire. “Maybe I should stop.”
“No!” I was throbbing with need, dead keen for him to have me. “Your cock is hot and pulsing,” I urged. “You’re dying to get into me.”
The heavenly eyes were teasing. “I don’t think so. You tried to blackmail me.”
“I’m sorry. Very, very sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Yes!” I was dying for that hardness inside me, and shameless about it. “I’m hot and wet for you.”
“Are you?” Rex sat on the edge of the bed. “Tell me how much you want me.”
“Pleeeeease!”
Begging worked.
He slid the knickers down to my knees, then teased me by kissing my thighs. “Keep talking.”
I was gasping, totally losing the plot. “Sweet kisses.”
He stood up, strong arms pulling me close.
“Flickering tongue.”
The scent of soap over hot male musk intoxicated me.
“Soft flesh.”
I brushed against him, revelling in the feel of my taut nipples brushing against his chest.
“Don’t stop.”
His rampant hardness was sliding between my thighs, rubbing my clit.
“Oh, glory be, yes.”
The swirling musk, strong muscles flexing under the soft skin, and huffing breath had me panting. As I licked the smooth skin from ear to collarbone, the hardness throbbed and pushed against me.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Rex, please, fuck me.”
“Seeing you ask so nicely.” Hard hands around my waist followed the welcoming whisper of a condom wrapper breaking. He held me up, commanding, “Legs around me.”
The hard heat slid into me, filling me with one swift thrust. He was huge, and I was loving it. Crossing my ankles and pulling tight had me rippling in delight. This was going to be good. “Hard and fast, love. Use me.”
One hand under my arse and one on my back held me steady. “Here we go.”
We swayed together, clenching, rising and falling in perfect harmony. The heat inside me built and banked, shortening my breath and electrifying my senses as I welcomed each possessive thrust.
“You’re beautiful.”
His groan in my ear flung me into pulsing delight, teasingly short of release. Hot, wet and abandoned, I rocked to his rhythm, each rippling, undulating movement triggering a tsunami of pleasure.
He was shuddering, breath bursting from him with explosive force. The hardness deep inside me was pulsing; Rex was on the edge. I was floating over the edge of ecstasy, gasping and whining, when his teeth nipped my neck.
The exquisite sliver of pain sent me tumbling into release. “Oh yes!” I was squealing as I shattered into a million pieces. “Don’t stop!” Silver streaks of pleasure and bliss shot through me, drowning me in wave after wave of delight.
He exploded into me, hips slamming into me as he poured himself into me. His hands, hot and hard, clutched me as he gasped in short agonised breaths, pulling me tight against him as pleasure rocketed through him.
I don’t remember him taking me down. All I remember is lying in his arms, featherbed all around us, as he cradled me.
“Don’t let go. Hold me.”
“I’ve got you.”<
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We nipped and kissed, licked and sucked, intertwined in a warm tangle of limbs as eddies of pleasure shot through us. Slowly, the night flowed in. My heart slowed down, and languor crept over me. Rex curled himself around me, folding comfortably and burying his face in my hair.
Outside, ‘A Whole Lotta Love’ started up.
“You got that right,” I mumbled. “I feel like I’ve come home.”
There was no reply. Rex was out cold.
Chapter Six
Rex
I woke up to sunshine, birdsong and a crashing hangover. I lay there, trying to avoid restarting the pounding behind my eyeballs by staying absolutely still. It didn’t work.
I closed my eyes and tried to think. There had been the call from David, a wild session involving a bottle of tequila, and then a blank. I decided I must have been completely trashed the night before. Worse, I was aware of a warm softness tucked into my side. I had company.
Risking complete annihilation by nausea, I snuck a look. A cloud of blue-black hair, paired with a curve of luscious hip and a very pale slim arm around my chest signalled this wasn’t a coyote moment.
At first sight, she wasn’t familiar, but when I looked again, I knew I’d seen that glorious hair before. Ravenwing black. And a body you’d spend a lifetime licking.
It came back to me in a rush. Lacy Desire, a mouthy little come-fuck-me tart, straight out of kink heaven. She’d been drop dead gorgeous in polka dots and fucking incredible in a pussy pelmet LBD.
Images of her standing on tiptoe, that lush body slick with sweat as her hands were tied to the crossbar high above her head flooded into mind. “I’m sorry. Very, very sorry.”
The drunken haze was vanishing, clearing my memory. I’d refused to help her because I didn’t want trouble, and when she’d been blackmailed me into it, I’d wanted to punish her.
For a split second filled with cold horror, I couldn’t remember what I’d done. Then, thankfully, details rushed back to mind. Her eyes, narrowed with lust, “Hard and fast, love. Use me.”
I’d had some fantastic sex over the years, and Lacy was definitely way up there. She’d been limber and luscious, kinky and yet sweet. I found myself stroking her shoulder and hugging the delicious curves.
“Hmmm, oh!” Sleepy blue eyes, the colour of summer skies, gazed at me. She yawned luxuriously, murmuring, “Morning.”
Then she was rolling onto her back and stretching. “That was a wild ride.”
“Yes.” My head reminded me I had been stinking drunk. Also, I remembered her yelling at me. I’d threatened her, but surely I hadn’t laid a finger on her. Or had I? I heard myself ask, “You okay?”
A feline stretch and a smothered, “Oh yeah!” settled me. Lacy was undulating against me in a way that said she was feeling good.
I thanked heaven for it, but it didn’t change the fact that I’d forced her into my bed. “I get you. All night long.” My words came back to haunt me. I’d been drunk, but that was no excuse. It hadn’t been rape, but it had been damn close.
My head was pounding, and I had the sweats from knowing what I’d escaped disaster by an unknown grace, but one look at that sumptuous body had me harder than Perdition oak. Lust has no conscience, or rather, mine doesn’t.
Lacy glanced down and grinned. “A standing cock can tell no lies.”
“What?”
“You like what you see,” she said smugly.
Any worries I might have had vanished. I know, I should have thought it through and seen it as a warning. Instead of seeing I’d crossed a line, I told myself that Lacy had it coming. She’d approached me, had blackmailed me, and at the end of the day, she’d made a deal, knowing precisely what she was doing.
While I was lying to myself, Lacy was making plans.
“We can have a rerun,” she said. “But after you call Jason.”
Right, the deal. “I’ll call him now.”
“And Harding,” Lacy reminded me.
“Yes, I remember.” Just reaching for my phone touched off a tsunami of queasiness. I lay still, wishing the room to stop spinning. Then, to delay having to move again, and because she had to know the truth, “Look, it may not be that easy.”
She looked at me and frowned. “Don’t mess me about, okay? Because it won’t just be you in the clink. I’ll make sure the whole fucking lot of you go down.”
Push me, and I’ll whack you. “Who the hell do you think you are, threatening my friends?”
“I’m ‘the hell’ the girl who ‘the hell’ owns your arse,” she snapped. “So get to it, right?”
“Nobody threatens me!”
Lacy looked down her nose at me and shrugged. “I do.”
We glared at each other, her not giving an inch, and to my fury, I had to kowtow to the little bitch. I picked up the phone, furiously ignoring my pounding head, wishing I could wring her neck.
I remembered defying her the night before, but now I knew that bolshiness was Dutch courage. If Lacy talked, one thing was for certain: the marina project would be dead in the water. Also, I had the protection of my birth, title, and connections but Crush and the others did not.
That brought back another memory.
“Fuck, Rex, you killed Reynolds?” Crush’s horrified whisper had cut right through my boozed up fog. “For real?”
I’d not confirmed or denied it, but he’d known the truth.
“He wasn’t sniffing his own product? You dosed him?” Crush was pie-eyed, he’d matched me shot for shot, beer for beer, but there was nothing wrong with his reasoning skills. “Jesus, you and Caden stayed behind that night. It was both of you?”
Although I’d been sensible not to answer that, either, I’d been so far gone that I’d told Lacy to shove it. But in the cold light of day, I knew she owned me, lock, stock, and barrel. If the girl talked, it wouldn’t just be me done for murder; the executive would go down with me. I’m a bastard, an evil-minded fuck, but I’ll do anything for my family. And the Disciples are as much my brothers as Caden is.
“Are you going to just lie there?” Lacy’s sarcasm was like a knife. “Or are you too posh to dial without assistance?”
For a split second, I thought of whacking her. But although I’m a bad man, I don’t hit women.
“Snap to it, your lordship.”
Not even mouthy blackmailing tarts. “What’s his number?”
Lacy took my phone, punched a number into it, and handed it back. As I waited for him to pick up, she was rolling out of bed, diving into her backpack and pulling on a pair of black lacy knickers. She had a glorious arse, high, firm and perfectly rounded. My cock was throbbing, and the palm of my hand was itching. I wanted to smack her - and then fuck her stupid.
Barrows’ phone went straight to voicemail.
“He’s probably hung over,” Lacy shrugged. “Like you.”
A smacking would do her good. But I controlled myself. Giving her a cold look, I forced myself to my feet and went to shower.
Standing under an arctic Niagara did wonders for my woody and gave me time to consider my options. I wasn’t going to be pushed about by a little tart. Still, my promise echoed clearly, “If I fix it, you fuck off and we never hear from you again.” In the light of day, I was cursing myself. I couldn’t afford any grief, and Lacy Desire was nothing but trouble. But I’d given my word and as I never break that, not ever, I was out of options.
Sadly, neither the flash of anger nor the freezing water did a thing for my head. Staggering out, I found Lacy doing press ups.
“Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine -”
Watching her bob up and down finished me. Before she hit fifty, I was back in the bathroom, talking to God, Ralph, and Huey via the big white telephone.
“Brew flue,” Lacy was standing in the doorway, thoroughly enjoying my humiliation. “Tequila is a bitch, isn’t it?”
“Not as much as you,” I muttered.
Lacy looked out of the window. “There’s loads of bikers on your la
wn.” Then, evilly, “They’re wrecked, too. You’ve got a field full of Technicolor yawns.”
I ignored her and pulled on jeans and a tee. All that movement had my head pounding again, so I sat on the edge of the bed, willing the world to stop spinning.
“If I’m going to be here, I may as well advertise,” Lacy mused. “Daytime sexy, it is.”
The small bag produced another dress, this one a flashing kingfisher blue that matched her eyes. Cutouts revealed the soft skin of her waist, and as it ended six inches above the knee, it left nothing to the imagination. She was a bitch but a damn sexy one. My cock was saluting, but I knew that I was an inch away from hurling again.
“Yes, I do look good in this.” Lacy was twirling in front of the antique mirror, chuckling smugly at the tent in my jeans.
I closed my eyes, ignoring the waves of nausea consuming me. “Bog off, why don’t you?”
A slim, cool and surprisingly strong arm around my shoulders got me to my feet. “Breakfast will sort you out.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“But I am.”
She made me breakfast. Bacon and eggs with tea and toast. I watched her chow down her yoghurt and Muesli, hating myself for the thrill that went straight to my cock when she licked the spoon, her tongue flickering sinuously.
“Try Jason again.”
“Still straight to voicemail.”
Lacy sighed. “The bugger is probably still unconscious.”
I didn’t bother to argue. The stodge had put an end to the nausea, but the jackhammer behind my eyes was working overtime. That’s tequila for you. Liquid rocket fuel with a kick like a mule.
“Aren’t you an event guru?” Lacy asked. “Shouldn’t you be working?”
Nosy cow. “I’m delegating.”
“Huh, typical.” She wasn’t bothering to hide her contempt. “Didn’t think you’d do your own dirty work.”
“Oh, put a sock in it!”
“Not used to criticism, are you?”
“Belt up!”
At which point Crush strolled in, followed by the executive.
One look and I knew it was bad news. “What’s happened?”
“Trouble in Durham and Skegness,” Crush said briefly.
His warning that we were vulnerable whenever we gathered for an event had come true. While we’d been partying, leaving a skeleton crew behind, someone had taken advantage and attacked. Fights, dustups, and general argy-bargy doesn’t bother us. We Disciples love a scrap, so the stern looks meant someone was hurt, and I don’t mean a couple of broken bones.
