Riding Dirty

by Jill Sorenson

  Her pulse pounded wildly. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “You should be.”

  After a long moment, he let go of her neck. He peeled down the cups of her corset, exposing her breasts. The snug leather pushed her breasts up higher than usual, forming two plump offerings. Her nipples were stiff.

  “Are you aroused?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you get this hot for everyone, or just me?”

  “Just you.”

  He pinched her nipples and she moaned. Her pussy clenched at the sweet sting. She wanted this. Whatever he could dish out. She would be his plaything, his doll to hurt and twist and shape. She longed for his rough touch and the resulting emotional release. It would cleanse her and satisfy him.

  When her nipples were hard enough to suit him, he put her bobby pins to good use, attaching one to each pink tip. She gasped at the erotic trap, arching her spine. He flicked his fingernails over her nipples, back and forth. The more he played with her, the sharper the sensation became. She felt it tingling along her skin, throbbing between her legs.

  He cupped his hand there, tracing her slit through the drenched lace. She squirmed at his barely there graze. Then he patted her clit a few times, spanking her pussy with his fingertips. She flinched and shuddered, aroused beyond belief. He tugged the wet fabric aside, exposing her swollen flesh.

  “Yes,” she said. “Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Touch me.”

  He left her panties askew, her nipples pinned and her pussy untouched. “Who do you work for?”

  She took ragged breaths, not answering.

  “Are you FBI?”

  “God. No.”

  “DEA?”

  “I’m just a psychologist.”

  “Are you fucking Vargas?”

  “No,” she panted. “Never.”

  “Who do you belong to?”

  “You.”

  “Does he know about us?”

  Her silence was as good as a yes. Cole drove two fingers into her slick pussy, thrusting deep. Then he brought the wet fingers to her parted lips. She sucked them greedily, letting him fuck her eager mouth.

  “Have you been recording our conversations?” he asked, withdrawing.

  “No.”

  “Has Vargas?”

  “I...I don’t know.”

  “Did you sabotage the air-conditioning in your office?”

  Mia didn’t care about keeping secrets anymore. She couldn’t think, couldn’t hold back. She could only feel. “Yes.”

  “Did you lock your keys in your car on purpose?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I wanted you,” she said. “Please. Fuck me.”

  He retrieved his belt, which sent a thrill down her spine. “I’ll fuck you when you tell me the truth, and not a second before. I won’t let you come, either. I’ll just toy with you until you beg for mercy.”

  She tugged on her bindings, which had become increasingly restrictive. Her nipples were burning and her pussy wept for his attention. She wanted to free her hands to stroke herself, to reach out and stroke him.

  “I hate you,” she said, every nerve on edge.

  He smiled coldly, relishing her discomfort. Then he used the tip of his belt to slap her quivering inner thighs. It didn’t feel like his hand, which delivered a broad smack. This was just a hot little lick, a flickering kiss. He turned his attention to her breasts. When the leather hit her already-sensitive nipples, knocking away the bobby pins, she cried out in shock. Removing the pressure hurt more than applying it. Blood rushed into the swollen tips. She almost swooned from the intensity. Her skin was flushed, nipples on fire.

  After a few seconds, the burn faded. He repositioned her panties over her sex and doubled up his belt. She moaned as he whacked the leather against her lace-covered clit. The light, hard slaps weren’t enough to get her off, but she was stimulated to an excruciating degree. She needed to come. Now.

  “Please,” she whimpered.

  “Ready to talk?”

  “Yes. Damn you.”

  “Your real name is Michelle,” he said. “Vargas investigated your husband’s death. I read about it online.”

  Oh God. She’d revealed too much personal information. He’d put the pieces together.

  “He visited you on Sunday. I saw a photo of you in your robe with that motherfucker on your doorstep.”

  A chill shuddered down her spine. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Why did you bug me?”

  “He made me.”

  “Vargas? How?”

  She moistened her lips, trembling. She’d said too much already.

  “Have you two been plotting together from the start?”

  “No. He didn’t know about us until the night of the rally.”

  “He was there?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you acted on your own, is that it? You rigged the air conditioner and locked your keys in your car just because you wanted to fuck. And you were carrying lube in case we decided to switch it up a little. That’s your story?”

  “I’d planned to seduce you,” she whispered. “That’s why I had the lube. I didn’t know if I’d be able to relax enough to get aroused with you.”

  “Why would you seduce me?”

  “I thought I could tell you about my husband’s killers, and maybe you would find them. Get revenge.”

  “Kill them for you?”

  “It was crazy,” she said, her stomach churning. “Crazy and stupid. But my life was so empty, and I missed him so much...until I met you.”

  He shook his head in denial.

  “That day with the air conditioner, I realized I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t use you that way. But I’d already locked my keys in my car, and you came along, and I was lonely. I wanted to escape, just like you. I wanted to be reckless, and you made me feel alive. I wasn’t trying to trick you.”

  “Why did you agree to be my girlfriend?”

  “Because...I’m in love with you.”

  He dropped the belt and fisted his hands in her hair. “Don’t you ever fucking lie to me,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Not about that.”

  “I’m not.”

  After a moment of studying her face, he released her, cursing under his breath. “How am I supposed to believe you, Mia? Do you think you can fool me with pretty words instead of going straight for my cock?”

  “No,” she said, her throat closing up.

  “You know me. You know I wanted to be close to someone.”

  Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. “I wanted to be close to someone, too. I never meant to fall in love with you.”

  “Did Vargas threaten you?”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “No.”

  “You’re lying,” he said in a dangerous voice. “You’re not a good liar. Or maybe you’re just not good at lies you haven’t practiced.”

  He was right. She wished she’d had the foresight to think of a plausible excuse. She should have said she was FBI. Instead she’d been as honest as she could, and gained nothing. He didn’t believe her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut as he untied the electrical cord at both knees. Instead of freeing her, he lifted her up and turned her around, bending her over the table. He secured her wrists at opposite ends. Her breasts flattened against the cool surface and her heart pounded with trepidation.

  “I’m going to fuck the lies out of you,” he said, stripping her panties down her hips. “They’re going to spill all over the table when you come.”

  She watched over her shoulder as he unbuttoned his fly, freeing his erection. He placed the tip of his cock against her slick sex and gripped her hips, entering her in one brutal thrust. Although she was more than ready for him, she gasped at the deep invasion. Before she could catch her breath, he withdrew and drove in again, burying himself to the hilt. He repeated the motion, jerking her hips toward his lap and spearing her on his cock. She couldn
’t move her upper body, but she braced herself on the balls of her feet as he jackhammered her into the table. She’d never been fucked so thoroughly. There was no tenderness in his possession, no finesse. No attempt to give her pleasure. He just used her, and used her hard.

  It was over almost as soon as it started, which was good. Any more of his rough pounding and she wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. Her pussy had already taken a beating. Her hips felt bruised from his fingertips.

  Grunting like a caveman, he pulled out and jammed his cock against her ass. Then he grabbed her by the hair, holding her head down in a tight grip. With his other hand, he pumped his cock furiously. He came right there, hot spurts jetting over her ass.

  When he was done, he let go of her hair and straightened, breathing hard. She could feel his penis on her bottom, his come dripping into her. He squeezed her slippery buttocks, plumping them together.

  She was so turned on, she might have submitted to anything. Her pussy felt like hot wax, her clit a pulsing flame. He untied one of her hands and rolled her over, parting her quivering thighs. She lay on the table with her left wrist bound, legs spread. He slid one hand beneath her buttocks and pushed his finger into her ass, making her groan. Holding her gaze, he closed his mouth over her throbbing clit. She came as hard as he’d fucked her, letting out a hoarse cry as she bucked against the table, clenching her bottom around his finger and mashing her pussy against his beautiful mouth.

  She lay there for several moments, panting. She thought her last climax had been strong, but this one took the cake. All the cake and the frosting, too. He removed his finger from her and cleaned his hands with another wet shop rag. For a filthy, dirty fuck, he was kind of fastidious. She appreciated that.

  He untied her and she used the damp rag to wipe her bottom. Then she adjusted her corset and put her jeans on, not bothering with panties. There were a couple of plastic chairs bolted to the cement floor on the other side of the Laundromat. Cole sat down and pulled Mia into his lap, kissing her damp forehead.

  “What did he threaten you with?” he asked, after a long time.

  She sighed, pressing her face into his shoulder. So much for her postorgasmic bliss. He was like a dog with a bone. But she could tell he believed her now. He’d thought about what she said, and he believed it.

  “Can he report you for misconduct?”

  “I can report him, too.”

  “For what?”

  “Any number of things,” she said vaguely.

  “Does he know where your mother is?”

  “Yes, but he wouldn’t hurt her.”

  “If you’re not worried about him damaging your career or hurting your mother, what...” He trailed off as understanding dawned. “He told you he’d hurt me. How, by sending me back to prison?”

  “He also said he’d get me relocated. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Anything but bug me,” he said, raking a hand through his hair.

  “I had a note for you in my mouth. I’d planned to give it to you, but I almost choked and I lost it.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You had a note. In your mouth.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I can’t believe you thought it was a good idea.”

  “Like cutting off your ankle monitor? Was that a good idea?”

  “It’s better than letting Vargas fucking kill me!”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “He wouldn’t.”

  “Of course he would. Now that he knows about us, he’d do it with relish.”

  Mia noted that Damon hadn’t intervened tonight. He hadn’t pulled Cole over at the movie theater parking lot, or the casino parking garage. Maybe he’d been waiting for her to place the bug. Or maybe he had other plans for Cole. Either way, the cops didn’t show up until Cole removed his ankle monitor.

  “We’re fucked,” Cole said succinctly.

  She studied the stark confines of the abandoned building. “We can’t stay here.”

  “There’s always Mexico.”

  “Is that where you’re going?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “They’ll catch you.”

  “I wouldn’t want to go without you, anyway.”

  Mia’s face crumpled at those words. She had an easier time accepting his anger and his punishing touch. This emotional side of him broke her heart. It made her crave more than rough goodbye sex. It made her long for him to stay.

  He put his hand on her head, holding her while she cried.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  MIA WOKE IN Cole’s arms.

  It was dawn. She’d slept off and on for a few hours with her head tucked in his lap or resting against his shoulder. He’d spent half of the night standing on a washing machine, looking out a hole in the aluminum. Keeping watch.

  “We should go now,” he said, pulling away from her. “It’s morning.”

  She straightened and rubbed her neck, which was sore from the awkward position. “Go where?”

  “I’ll take you to Palm Springs. You can get a cab.”

  “I don’t want to get a cab.”

  He rose from the chair, ignoring her response. They drank the last of the bottled water, and he moved the washing machine that was barricading the door. She had to pee, so she went outside and squatted behind the building. He walked a few yards away to relieve himself. Then he mounted his bike and started the engine. She had no choice but to hop on.

  A new dawn broke over the San Bernardino Mountains, golden bright. The desert sun didn’t care about her dark mood and swollen eyes. It didn’t care about drought, or poverty, or hard times. It just shone dispassionately, illuminating the good and bad with equal fervor, bathing the cracked earth with harsh light.

  They didn’t make it to Palm Springs. They didn’t even make it to Desert Hot Springs, which was closer. After about five melancholy miles, the bike quit.

  Mia climbed off the back and watched as Cole attempted to get the motorcycle going. He cursed and tinkered and cursed some more. He acted like any frustrated man she’d ever seen. She felt a mixture of sorrow and admiration as she studied him. His eyes were bloodshot, pale amber like the morning sun. Even at his worst, he was damned hot. His tattoo-covered triceps flexed as he worked. He had strong hands, starkly beautiful in their masculinity. Capable of inflicting dizzying pleasure or incredible pain.

  After a few minutes, he checked the gas tank. “Fuck,” he said, screwing the lid back on. “The gauge must be broken.”

  “Is there a gas station around here?”

  “It’s a few miles away.”

  He rolled the bike into some thorny bushes behind an abandoned trailer. Mia waited for him to return, shrugging off the backpack. When he rejoined her, he looked around. “We have to split up. I’ll head to the gas station. If you walk north, you’ll hit the center of town. You can find a store with a pay phone.”

  “Why can’t we stay together?”

  “You’re safer alone than out in the open with me.”

  “The police won’t shoot you.”

  “Maybe not, but they’ll take me by force. I’m a dangerous fugitive on the run. They don’t fuck around.”

  She stared down the lonely road. “You could turn yourself in. I’ll talk to Vargas for you. Make a deal.”

  His eyes went cold. “Would this deal involve you screwing him?”

  She felt the blood drain from her face. She hadn’t planned on capitulating to Vargas, but she’d do whatever it took to save Cole from rotting in prison.

  “Did he touch you?” he asked, his jaw clenched.

  “No.”

  “If he did, I’ll knock his fucking teeth out.”

  She moistened her lips, trying to think of other options. “We can call WITSEC directly.”

  “You’d relocate with me?”

  Her throat closed up, because it was impossible. The program would never agree to place them together. They weren’t married or in an established relationship. She also had her mother to
consider. Even if her mother didn’t recognize her, Mia couldn’t bear to be away from her. But she couldn’t bear to be away from Cole, either.

  He put on his backpack in terse motions. “I should go. The longer we’re together, the more trouble you’ll be in.”

  Fresh tears welled in her eyes but she blinked them away, refusing to break down in front of him again. Refusing to beg him to stay. When her vision cleared, she caught sight of an intriguing advertisement in the distance.

  Tranquility Springs, an all-natural getaway

  Soak in private mineral baths and enjoy freedom. Leave the world behind.

  “That’s it,” she said, pointing. “‘Leave the world behind.’ It’s a sign.”

  “It’s a billboard,” Cole said.

  “Look at it.”

  “I see it.”

  She studied the peaceful image of a woman’s bare back, water rippling around her hips. The colors in the ad were soothing, stone-gray and leaf-green. Mia took a deep breath, filled with new hope. “We can go there and lay low. Figure out our next step.”

  “We can’t lay low at a spa.”

  “Why not?”

  “We won’t blend in. I’m covered with tattoos, and you’re smoking hot. Everyone will stare at us.”

  “It says ‘private.’”

  “Maybe that means ‘clothing-optional.’”

  “I hope so, since we don’t have bathing suits.”

  “This isn’t a joke.”

  She twined her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to the black web. Spider webs were common with inmates and criminals. Caught in a deadly trap, no way out.

  “My mother doesn’t remember me,” she said, after a pause.

  “What?”

  “She has advanced Alzheimer’s. She doesn’t know who I am anymore.”

  “Since when?”

  “It’s been getting worse over the past few months. She’s all I’ve got, but in some ways she’s already gone.”

  He held Mia’s head against his chest, his big hand spanning her neck.

  “I can’t stand to let another person go too soon.”

  “I’ll drag you down, Mia.”

  “No,” she said, clinging to him. “You lift me up.”

  “When they find us, you’ll lose everything.”