She followed his instructions, her spine arched and her thighs quivering. The sheer lace panties couldn’t hide her arousal. It was soaked into the fabric, clinging to her cleft. He looked at her and continued stroking, very close to her face. She could smell the heat of his skin and almost taste the pearly drop at the tip.
“You want me to come on you, plaything?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
She moistened her lips. “Anywhere you like.”
He gripped her ponytail and tilted her head back, lowering his mouth to hers. He held her captive for his kiss, plunging his tongue deep inside. She imagined his cock there, her lips surrounding his thick shaft. He could have climbed onto the mattress and straddled her, shoved his cock into her mouth, or spurted all over her. She wouldn’t have objected in the least. But he didn’t. Breathing hard, he slowed his fist.
Instead of finishing the job, he released his cock abruptly and sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off his jeans and boots. “You still with me?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll jerk off on you, if you want. But next time, I’m going to eat your pussy. I’ll make you come and come and come.”
She liked the idea of him just looking at her, and being so turned on he had to stroke himself. The collar felt snug around her throat, the cuffs secure. She was bound and at his mercy. On display for his sexual use.
He moved between her parted thighs and kissed the damp lace. She shuddered, wondering if the feather-light stimulation was enough to send her over the edge. He removed her panties with a quick yank, stripping them away from her slick folds. His nostrils flared at the sight of her, completely exposed. Instead of diving in for a taste, he peeled down the cups of her bra and pinched her stiff nipples.
Her clit pulsed like a beating heart. She parted her thighs wider, imagining his swirling tongue on her.
“You’re dripping wet.”
She could feel the moisture coating the lips of her sex, messy and hot.
He straightened, straddling her on the mattress. “I want your mouth on my cock,” he said, grasping her ponytail again and urging her head down on him. “Get me as wet as your pussy,” he demanded, his hips thrusting.
She closed her mouth around him and sucked hard, letting him guide her up and down. She got him really wet, as instructed. Without hands, she couldn’t control the depth of his penetration. He took full advantage, gagging her on his thick cock. When she made a choking sound, he withdrew.
“Spit on it.”
She did.
He let go of her ponytail and moved between her spread thighs, using her saliva as lube. His hand worked furiously, tugging hard on his stiff flesh. She was enthralled by the performance. He stared at her pussy, the cords in his neck standing out. It didn’t take long, maybe two minutes. He gritted his teeth and came all over her. Hot spurts jetted over her breasts and belly. Groaning, he aimed lower, painting her inner thighs.
When he was finished, he slumped over, resting his forehead against the headboard. She imagined him rolling away from her and passing out. If she was lucky, he’d get her a towel and clean her up first.
Ace didn’t get her a towel, and he didn’t pass out. He shook off his stupor and studied his handiwork. His come was dripping from her breasts and sliding down her stomach. If he’d been trying to cover as much of her as possible, mission accomplished.
“Fuck,” he said, his eyes half-lidded. “I’m still hard.”
She looked down in surprise. His cock hadn’t softened. Maybe he was so amped up that a single release couldn’t drain him. “Put it in me.”
He climbed off the bed and found his jeans on the floor. Tearing open a condom wrapper with his teeth, he rolled the latex down his shaft. Then he rejoined her on the bed. It wasn’t an easy position for intercourse, but he didn’t untie her. He just knelt between her legs and lifted her onto his cock. Her wrists slid up the slatted headboard. When she sank down on him, inch by inch, they both groaned with pleasure.
He didn’t fuck her. He just penetrated her, all the way to the hilt. She stretched around him, filled to the limit. Once he was fully seated, he stayed put, his fingers flexing on her hips. The combination of sensations was electric; his hands on her body, his come cooling on her skin, his cock deep inside her.
“How does it feel?”
“Big.”
“Too big?”
Was she supposed to lie? “Just right.”
He moved his hands to her throat, tracing the collar there. Then he cupped her come-splattered breasts, studying them with reverence. She shivered at his touch. He collected the fluid from her skin and transferred it to her mouth, marking her lips with his salty taste. She licked them clean, holding his gaze.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he said, doing it again. He rubbed his come over her breasts and belly and mouth. By the time he reached her clit, she was ready to beg. He petted the slippery bead, strumming her in slow circles. “I can’t wait to eat your cunt. I want you on my face, riding my tongue.”
“Please,” she said, whimpering.
“Please what?”
“Let me come.”
He must have enjoyed torturing her, because he alternated between pinching her nipples, kissing her lips, and stimulating her clit. Whenever she got close to climax, he paused, sliding her up and down his fat cock.
She moaned and cried and bucked her hips, but she didn’t drift. Not once.
He finally finished her, applying steady, rhythmic pressure with his fingertips. She shattered into a thousand pieces, her body quaking. She screamed like a banshee. The cuffs tugged at her wrists, her pussy clenched around his cock and lights flashed behind her eyes. Her orgasm went on and on, unraveling what felt like years of built-up tension inside her. When it was over, she collapsed against his shoulder, totally spent.
“Uncuff me,” she mumbled.
He tore away the Velcro.
Her arms tingled with discomfort and her hands felt numb, but she didn’t care. He rolled her onto her back and started fucking the hell out of her, pounding her into the mattress. She didn’t care about that, either. She didn’t drift. She reveled in his fierce possession and clung to his neck, letting him take what he wanted.
He came with a hoarse yell, burying himself so deep inside her she could practically feel him in her throat.
After a moment of crushing her under his weight, he withdrew and went to the bathroom. She stayed on the bare mattress, eyes closed, skin sticky with sweat and come, pussy throbbing from his use.
He’d wrecked her. Absolutely wrecked her.
And she’d loved it.
Chapter Sixteen
He disposed of the condom and returned to her bedroom.
She was lying on her stomach on the bare mattress, eyes closed. He knew he should leave, but her naked ass beckoned. When he climbed into bed and drew her into his arms, she made a sleepy, satisfied sound. She felt as soft and cozy as a purring kitten.
He’d never fucked anyone the way he’d fucked her. He’d always liked sex, but he’d limited himself to the regular, garden variety. What they’d just done was pretty filthy. He hadn’t realized he had it in him.
No, scratch that. He’d known he had it in him. He just hadn’t expected any woman to be on the same page.
It was like porn. He understood that it was male-fantasy material, not a guide on how to treat women in real life. The female body was a beautiful gift, and he was happy to give back. That meant showing a lady a good time and focusing on her pleasure. Not tying her up, jerking off on her and making her lick come off his fingers.
Jesus.
He’d never seen anything hotter than her collared and bound for his use. His cock stretched against her pretty little ass, seeking entry. He wanted to fuck her again. She
shifted against him and he pressed his lips to her shoulder. His hand rose to her left breast, cupping the soft weight.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she mumbled.
His cock nudged her ass, persistent.
She pushed away from him and sat up. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, trying to smooth her tangled ponytail.
Not ready for another round, apparently.
Sighing, he rolled onto his back and tucked his arms behind his head. His cock bobbed against his stomach, half-mast. “Your ass is what’s wrong with me. It’s fucking gorgeous, like your tits.”
Janelle squinted at him. “Are you a nymphomaniac?”
He laughed, stifling the urge to stroke himself. “I thought only women were called that.”
“You came twice already.”
“I could go for three.”
“Is that your usual?”
“No,” he said honestly. “I can’t get enough of you.”
She climbed off the bed and found his shirt on the floor. Instead of handing it to him, she put it on herself. The hem reached her upper thighs. She left it open to her waist, fastening a few snaps over her belly.
His cock twitched at the sight. “That’s not helping.”
“I like this shirt.”
“You look sexy in it.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Yeah.”
She tossed his jeans at him. “Come on, Romeo. Let’s see what I have in the fridge.”
Ironically, she only had eggs—and he cooked them for her. While he stood at the stove, she grated some cheese and added chopped olives. She took a jug of orange juice out of the fridge. They devoured the omelets, sitting side by side on her kitchen counter. When they were finished, he offered her one of his cigarettes.
“Hard pack?” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“The harder the better.”
She accepted the cigarette, leaning forward to let him light it. “I never smoke indoors.”
“Neither do I.”
“Why?”
“Habit. From when I lived with Skye.”
They smoked right there in the kitchen, tapping the ashes into the sink. “Tiffany said you were in a motorcycle club, and that your girlfriend was the president’s daughter.”
He inhaled deeply, unsure how to respond.
“Tell me about her.”
“Courtney?”
Janelle nodded.
“She was beautiful. Troubled. Addicted to meth.”
“Did you love her?”
He took another drag of his cigarette, his stomach clenched with regret. “No, I didn’t love her. I loved Skye from the first moment I laid eyes on her. What I had with Courtney was nothing like that.”
“Did she love you?”
“She said she did.”
“How did you two meet?”
“Through the club,” he said, swamped by memories. “She was just a kid when I joined. We didn’t get together until after she turned twenty. I was twenty-eight by then, and old enough to know better. But I liked to party and so did she. We were both fucked up one night. One thing led to another.”
“And Skye came along nine months later?”
“No, we dated for a while.” By that he meant they’d done a lot of drugs together. “She told me she was pregnant a few days after I got busted for stealing a car. I was locked up when Skye was born. Missed the whole thing.”
“What happened after you got out?”
“Nothing good,” he said, finishing his cigarette. Courtney had been so passionate, so needy and emotional. He couldn’t make her happy.
Maybe he hadn’t tried hard enough. Hadn’t cared enough.
“She started partying again,” he said. “I was off meth, but drinking too much. One night she needed a fix and wouldn’t leave me alone about it. I finally drove her to the dealer’s house. We got pulled over a block away. Skye was in the car.”
His voice wavered on the last sentence. It was one of the worst moments of his life, with devastating repercussions.
Janelle’s brow creased with concern. “Did they take her?”
“No. I claimed the drugs were mine. I knew I was going to jail anyway, and I didn’t want Courtney to lose custody.” Even though it had been his decision, he’d resented the hell out of her for letting him take the fall. “I did six more months. It would have been longer, but Skye’s grandfather got me a good lawyer.”
She stubbed out her cigarette. “Go on.”
“We fell into our old routine after that. I worked and drank while Courtney tweaked out and took care of Skye. We argued a lot. The next time she wanted to go on a late-night run, I refused to drive her. So she drove herself.”
“That’s when she crashed?”
He inclined his head.
“Do you blame yourself?”
“Yes.” More importantly, Bill and Shawnee blamed him.
“Is Skye with her grandparents by your choice?”
“The courts placed her there.”
Her gaze sharpened with sudden understanding. “He’s your boss. You owe him for the legal strings he pulled, and he makes you hunt people.”
He shouldn’t have told her anything. He shouldn’t have come here and fucked her. But damn if he didn’t want to do it again. Stepping forward, he gripped his shirt and yanked it open, exposing her breasts. Her stomach quivered at his aggression. “I didn’t say you could grill me, plaything.”
She moistened her lips. “I don’t do what you say.”
“Yes, you do.” He covered her mouth with his before she could protest, drowning her in a brutal kiss. She made him feel like an animal, raw and uncivilized. He couldn’t control what was happening in his life. He couldn’t control Bill, or Jester. He couldn’t have peace or justice or anything else he wanted.
But he could have this. He could control her.
She didn’t fight him, so he made a fist in her ponytail and thrust his tongue into her mouth, taking what he needed. Showing her who was in charge. She tasted like orange juice and cigarettes, smoky and sweet and hot. With a low growl, he lifted her off the counter and carried her back to the bedroom. He tossed her on the mattress.
She braced her weight on her elbows, gaping at him. But she didn’t say no, and she didn’t say cowboy.
He climbed on top of her and pushed her arms over her head, securing her wrists to the headboard once again. Then he just feasted on her. Mouth, throat, breasts, belly. She’d taken off the collar earlier, leaving her neck bare. He bit her there softly, scraping his teeth along her skin. He settled between her legs, closing his mouth over her smooth, wet pussy. Sucking her clit. Putting his tongue everywhere. Using his fingers.
She came before he expected her to. Her hips bucked off the mattress and she exploded with a sharp cry. He gentled her with his tongue. When she stopped quaking, he wiped his face and lifted his head to study her. She was soaking wet, her slit glistening. Her inner lips were open like a butterfly, ruffled and pink.
Fuck.
He tore open another condom and unbuttoned his fly, covering his aching cock. Then he positioned himself against her and drove in deep, filling her completely. Their eyes met and his mouth descended on hers. She kissed him back, sobbing prettily with each thrust. Not sobbing like it hurt...more like it hurt so good.
He kissed her and fucked her and totally dominated her, coming fast and hard in a dizzying rush.
When he was finished, he rolled away from her, gripping the base of his shaft. Now he was tired. His cock went sleepy-soft and his eyelids drooped. He’d been awake for almost twenty-four hours straight.
Although he’d love to lie beside her all night, he didn’t have that luxury. He rose from the bed and flushed the second condom, buttonin
g his pants as he came out. She was still on the bed, legs splayed wide and arms stretched taut. His cock didn’t stir but his chest did, tightening with some unidentified emotion.
He sat at the edge of the bed and undid the cuffs, studying her. She’d come, despite his rough ravaging. Or perhaps because of it. He’d like to return tomorrow and play with her some more. He wanted to fuck her from behind, and eat her pussy for hours instead of minutes. He imagined her tied up in coarse rope, her eyes desperate.
Pulling his gaze away from her, he scrubbed a hand down his face. He didn’t know if he wanted to punish her or please her or both. He only knew that he was getting in over his head. Going too far, and getting too attached. Losing her was going to break him. He might be able to rule her body, but he couldn’t regulate his heart.
She slid her arms around him and he flinched, his muscles taut with tension.
“Why won’t you let anyone help you?” she asked.
“Because no one can.”
“Are the other club members all loyal to him?”
He didn’t answer. They weren’t, but it wasn’t fair to involve them. He’d brought this on himself.
“What about Skye’s grandmother?”
“What about her?”
“Can she be your ally?”
“She hates me.”
“Does she love Skye?”
“Yes.”
She pressed her lips to his back. “Then you have one thing in common.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her, realizing he was doomed. Not only was she beautiful and brave and vulnerable and hot, she was smart.
She fucked like a dream, too.
“I have to go,” he said, rising from the bed.
She took off his shirt and gave it to him. He thought about telling her to keep it, but he wanted to wear something that smelled like her. Her skin, her hair, her pussy. The panties he’d stolen from her purse hadn’t. He’d sniffed them, to no avail.
She got dressed and locked up her trailer. They walked out together. He said goodbye with a blistering kiss, which was stupid. He was acting like a lovesick schoolboy, treating her like his girlfriend.
Shooting Dirty Page 15
