Filthy Wicked Games

by Lili Valente

  She sighed, but didn’t protest and after a few moments her feet began to move faster, making a grim smile stretch across his face. She wouldn’t be so eager to reach their destination if she knew what awaited her there. But he was all for speed. He was past ready to have her bared to him, her nipples pebbling beneath his fingers, her head falling back as arousal flooded through her veins.

  And what if she says no?

  Clay dismissed the thought. She wasn’t going to say no; she wanted him as much as he wanted her. It was in her eyes every time she looked at him—hate and hunger in equal measure, proving he wasn’t the only one infected with this sickness.

  Ten minutes later, Harley turned a sharp corner on the trail and froze, her breath rushing out. “Oh my God.”

  “Pretty, isn’t it,” he said, coming to stand behind her, gazing up at the narrow falls trailing down the side of the grassy rocks to the wide, peaceful pool below. “I thought you might like a swim.”

  She glanced sharply over her shoulder but turned back to face the falls just as quickly. “I would like a swim. My feet are on fire. I don’t suppose it’s safe to drink that water, is it?”

  “Doubtful, but you can have some of mine.” He circled around her, uncapping the canteen as he moved. “Open your mouth.”

  She held his gaze, watchful as she tilted her head back and parted her lips. Clay moved the canteen an inch from her mouth before he tilted it, sending a thin stream of water trickling from the opening. Her tongue slipped out, instinctively helping guide the water down her throat. Some of it dribbled down her chin, but she didn’t move to wipe it away. She drank greedily, her throat working as she swallowed. By the time he shifted the canteen, stopping the flow of water, he was hard enough to club a baby seal to death with his cock.

  Needless to say, he would have to wait to join Harley in the water.

  He didn’t want her to realize how much power she held over him or that watching her drink had been one of the sexiest things he’d seen in recent memory.

  “Should I swim in my clothes?” She held his gaze, her chest rising and falling and her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her shirt.

  “You could,” he said, “but that would make for an uncomfortable hike back. Wet clothes tend to chafe.”

  “Then I guess I should swim naked,” she said, bending her knees with a graceful, sensuous movement that had Clay’s cock twitching in his pants.

  So much for hiding his hard-on. There was no way Harley would miss the bulge behind his zipper, not when she was squatting right in front of him.

  “Boots first. I’ve been dying to take these off.” She began to work open the laces, keeping her head tilted back and her eyes trained on his. “But I bet you knew that, didn’t you?”

  He inclined his head but didn’t respond. He was too busy admiring the way her shirt gaped at the neck, granting him peek-a-boo glimpses of her tits. She was the perfect handful, with nipples that tilted up, practically begging to be kissed, sucked, trapped between teeth, and teased.

  She nodded knowingly. “I bet you chose the heaviest, most uncomfortable pair of shoes you could find, didn’t you?”

  His lips curved without his permission. He couldn’t help himself. He should be angry that she could still read him so well—not long ago he would have been enraged by that smug grin lilting across her full mouth—but sometime in the past two weeks things had changed.

  There was an intimacy in holding another human being prisoner. It was an ugly, unbalanced breed of intimacy, but intimate nonetheless. He felt closer to Harley than he had before, close enough that the memory of his fingers wrapped around her throat made his gut twist every time it drifted through his head. If he had damaged her or, God forbid, killed her, he would never have forgiven himself. Those blue eyes were nothing but trouble, but he didn’t want to watch them close forever.

  “Are you coming in?” she asked, tossing her boots and socks to the side of the trail and sitting back on her bare feet.

  “I will,” he said. “But I’ll wait for you to get in first and stay between you and the trail. Don’t want you to get any ideas.”

  “Too late,” she said with a sultry, feline grin. She brought her hand to his thigh before letting her palm skim slowly up until her fingers molded around his erection, squeezing him gently through his shorts. “This is already giving me ideas.”

  “Is that right?” He kept his expression impassive, determined not to show her how good it felt to have her hand on him. “Anything you’re willing to share with the class?”

  “Well,” she said, bringing her other hand to the close of his shorts, slipping the button free of its hole, making his heart beat faster. “I am already down on my knees. It seems a shame not to take advantage of it.”

  She drew his zipper down before curling all eight fingers around the top of his boxer briefs and tugging them up and over his cock. His swollen shaft bobbed free, already thickly veined and flushed with need.

  He wanted her lips wrapped around his cock more than he could express in words. He wanted to cradle her head in his hands and fuck her mouth until he blew down the back of her throat and watch her swallow him down, moaning the way she always had before, like the taste of him was better than chocolate.

  But he wasn’t a fool. For better or worse, he remembered everything Harley Mason had ever said to him.

  So when she moved her lips closer to his cock, he drove his fingers into her hair and made a fist, taking control, making sure she didn’t get close enough to do any damage.

  Her eyes rolled up to meet his, an unspoken question in their depths.

  “Teeth,” he whispered softly. “Because blow jobs should involve a subtle reminder of who is in charge.”

  Her smile burst across her face—unexpected and…beautiful.

  She was so fucking beautiful when she smiled like that. There had been a time when he’d lived to make her smile. He’d spent the hours he was away from her thinking of things that would make her laugh, stories to tell her when they were curled together under the covers, exhausted from making love, but not ready to go to sleep, not wanting to let unconsciousness take hold and tear them apart.

  “You remember,” she whispered, her smile fading.

  “I remember everything,” he said, his throat tight. “Everything you said that made me love you when I thought you were someone else.”

  She held his gaze for a long moment while his cock bobbed lightly between them, like a dog too stupid to know that the moment had soured and the time to play had passed.

  Finally, she said, “I won’t bite your dick off, okay? I promise.”

  “Your promises mean very little to me.”

  “But I want to taste you,” she said, her gaze darkening with a hunger that made his balls ache. “I want to suck you until you explode between my lips. I want it hard and fast until I’m drowning in you.”

  He took a deep breath, ignoring the voice issuing from the general vicinity of his groin that urged him to trust her, just this little bit, just enough to give him the chance to fuck that beautiful mouth.

  But he’d learned to ignore that voice a long time ago. Listening with your dick was pure stupid and he didn’t have time for stupid today.

  Or any other day.

  The realization that he would never know the bliss of a Harley blow job again—she truly was a master of the art—made his chest tighten, but his grief was short-lived. There were still so many options left on the table and it was past time to start exploring them.

  “Take off your clothes,” he said, loosening his grip on her hair. “And get in the water.”

  “You’ve gotten bossy in your old age,” she said, but she obediently reached for the bottom of her tee shirt and drew it over her head, revealing her perfect, teacup-sized breasts. “Is that just for me or are you an alpha-hole with all the girls?”

  “Now the shorts.” He stripped his own shirt off and tossed it to the ground. “Stand up and take them off. Slowly.
”

  She stood, a faint grin curving her lips as she hooked her thumbs beneath the elastic waistband of the simple navy boxers and drew them down, inch by torturous inch, revealing the thatch of brown curls between her legs. When the fabric reached her thighs, she shimmied her legs, sending the boxers sliding to the ground to puddle at her feet.

  “What’s next, boss man?” she asked. “Since you seem to get off on being in charge.”

  Without a word, Clay stepped closer, slipping his fingers between her legs and driving into where she was already slick and swollen, drawing a soft, and extremely satisfying, moan from her lips.

  “And it seems like you get off on being told what to do,” he said, fucking her with his fingers—long, slow, strokes that made her head fall back and her lips part. “Or have you been wet for me since this morning?”

  “Who says it’s for you?” she asked, her voice breathy. “Maybe I’ve been thinking about someone else, someone with a friendlier dick than yours.”

  “My dick is plenty friendly.” He brought his free hand to her breast, brushing his thumb across her tight tip. “It’s the rest of me you have to worry about.”

  Harley’s eyes slid closed. “You brought protection this time?”

  He lowered his face to her neck, inhaling the sweat and flowers smell of her, a combination that made his cock throb with its own desperate heartbeat as he pressed a kiss to where her pulse raced beneath her skin. “Assuming things go that far, yes. But I won’t lose control again.”

  Her lids slitted open, her eyes glittering in the sun filtering through the trees. “Why does that sound like a threat?”

  “Get in the water,” he said, his voice husky.

  And I’ll show you, he added silently.

  Chapter Eight

  Harley

  Great minds think alike. So do devious ones.

  Harley knew exactly what Clay was doing—the same thing she’d been trying to do when she’d knelt at his feet and freed his stupid beautiful cock from his shorts—but that didn’t keep her traitorous libido from responding. She eased into the cool water beneath the falls with her skin burning and her body aching for more of what he’d started. More of his hands and his mouth and that clever mind that was every bit as sexy as the rest of him.

  But if he thought she could be manipulated by a taste of the way things used to be, he was about to learn just how wrong he was.

  He could smolder and seduce and boss her around her all he wanted, but she was never going to tell him where Jasper was. She was going to get close to him, get off, and then use his own tactics against him.

  He was weakening. There had been nostalgia in his voice when he’d quoted the joke she’d made the first time she’d gone down on him—in the shower, licking him up and down before dragging her teeth lightly along his shaft. And he’d smiled at her, more than once. Maybe they were false, but even forced smiles had power. She had forced a smile for Jasper’s sake more times than she could count and discovered in the process that if she kept a grin plastered on her face for long enough she would eventually start to feel happier. Or at least more relaxed than she’d been before.

  She didn’t need Clay to love her again or even like her; she just needed him to relax his guard long enough for her to take advantage.

  Harley picked her way over the smooth stones beneath the water, scanning the pool for signs of danger. But there were no snakes, no large animals lurking in the ferns along the shore, nothing but the frayed ribbon of the falls whispering down, sending ripples out across the pool. Unexpectedly, the water was cool enough to be chilly—unlike the ocean this time of year—but she barely noticed the cold. Her senses were focused on the sound of Clay easing into the water behind her and the way her nerves sizzled in response.

  She glanced over her shoulder, the sight of him taking her breath away.

  He was even more stunning than he’d been when they were younger. He’d thickened through the shoulders and the cuts defining each dip and curve of his muscular frame had deepened. If she’d been the sort to wax poetic, she could have written a verse or two about the sharp V running up either side of his hips, the veins on his powerful forearms, the sprinkling of golden hair at the base of his abdomen, and the rakish lilt of his cock.

  It still curved lightly to the left as if trying to help him hitch a ride to somewhere better than here.

  “There’s nowhere better than here,” she murmured as he closed the distance between them, a predatory look in his deep blue eyes that made her shiver.

  “It doesn’t matter if there is or there isn’t,” he said, remembering his response to their private joke. “Here is where we are. And I’m going to make the most of it.”

  He stopped in front of her, close enough for her to feel the heat rolling off of him in waves and to realize how desperately she wanted his hands on her, his mouth on her.

  “What do you want, Harley?” he asked, his voice husky. “How do you want me to touch you?”

  “I don’t,” she lied, even as his pine and soap smell sent fresh heat rushing between her legs.

  “So you don’t want this?” He brought his hands to her breasts, cupping her in his warm palms before capturing her nipples between his fingers and rolling her taut flesh. “You don’t want me to touch you here?”

  She bit her lip and fought to hold still. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of even that small response, but she couldn’t help herself. She needed the pain of her teeth digging in deep to keep her back from arching, her thighs from squirming, and her hands from reaching for him.

  “Or maybe you would prefer my mouth?” He knelt in the water. Before she could move away, his tongue was flicking across her nipple, sending a wave of heat surging through her core.

  Her breath rushed out, but she sucked it back in, holding it trapped in her lungs, hoping it would help her stay strong as he licked and sucked. Licked and sucked…licked and…

  “Fuck me,” she said with a groan, her resistance crumbling as she drove her fingers into his hair.

  He sucked her nipple deep in response, trapping it against the top of his mouth and doing that thing he did. That wicked thing that had once made her come simply from having her nipples ravaged by his mouth. Soon, her breath came in pants and her knees had turned to jelly and still he suckled her harder, trapping her other nipple between his fingers and pinching her in time to the suction of his mouth.

  Her womb tightened and her hips began to rock, instinctively seeking friction though there was nothing but water between her legs.

  But she wouldn’t need much more. She was so close, so fucking close, so—

  She cried out, a sharp sound of shock and dismay that tumbled from her lips as Clay abruptly pulled away from her nipples.

  A second later, he took her by the arms, spinning her around. “Time to get wet.”

  She barely had time to pull in a breath before he had pushed her forward, sending her tumbling into a deeper portion of the pool. As her head slipped beneath the surface, she opened her mouth and screamed, giving her rage and frustration to the water, even as she tried to get her body back under control.

  She had to regain control, had to firm up her defenses and get ready for a fight.

  If she knew Clay—and she did, that fucking bastard—this was only the beginning of her suffering.

  Chapter Nine

  Clay

  Harley emerged from the water sputtering, murder clearly written on her features as she found her footing and waded back into the shallow water.

  “Or were you already wet?” Clay asked, unable to fight the smile creeping across his face.

  “You’re an asshole,” she said, swiping roughly at her damp cheeks.

  “No, I’m not.” She looked fucking stunning with water streaming down her bare curves, a fact that only made him ache to get his mouth back on her that much faster. “I just need you to tell me what you want. Better yet, I want you to beg for it.”

  She muttered s
omething beneath her breath that sounded like, “Why am I not surprised,” but Clay didn’t ask her to clarify.

  Instead, he crooked his finger. “Come here. We’ll try again and see if you’ve learned your lesson.”

  “And what if I say no?” she said, intensifying her glare. “Better yet, what if I tell you to go to hell and stick your dick in the first lake of fire you find?”

  His lips curved again. “Then you won’t get to come, will you? Because the only way you’re getting off is on my fingers or my cock or my mouth.”

  Her eyes flashed, giving her away.

  He shifted closer, his bare feet sure on the stones. “Would you like that? My mouth between your legs? Do you want me to fuck you with my tongue until you come so hard I have to hold you up to keep you from sliding under the water?”

  She exhaled, slow and ragged. “And if I say yes?”

  “That would be a start,” he said, reaching up to curl his fingers around the back of her neck. “But I believe I mentioned begging. What is it going to take for you to learn to beg?”

  He held her gaze as he took his cock in hand and tilted his leaking tip down to brush against her clit. The sound she made—a cross between a yelp and a moan—was enough to make his cock twitch against her again. Her head fell back, resting against his hand, her breath already coming faster.

  “Maybe something like that?” he asked, severing the contact between them.

  “Yes,” she said softly. “Do that again.”

  “Do what again?” he asked, wanting to hear it from her lips.

  “Rub your cock against me,” she said, her eyes hooded. “Tease me. Make me beg you for more.”

  “Spread your legs,” he ordered, still gazing straight into her eyes as he rubbed the head of his dick in slow, firm circles on her clit. If he looked down, he knew the sight of their bodies so close to joining would be hot as hell, but he had to maintain control.

  Besides, her eyes were putting on their own show, anger and hunger shifting back and forth like a kaleidoscope spinning in the sun.