Ruthless Ink

by April Lust

  I wrap my arms around his neck, hands sliding over and massaging his taut upper back muscles. I moan softly and sigh, but suck in a sharp breath when his teeth graze my breast and I part my thighs instinctively.

  His hand cups my mound, thumb pushing down on my achy clit, his index and middle finger stroking circles over my opening. I’m soaking through my panties, the wet spot dragging in cool air. After teasing me through the underwear, he pushes the material over my crotch aside, and his finger wriggles into my gripping hole.

  “Ah,” I sigh, breath hitching, locking in my throat. I suck up his digit all too easy, prompting him to add a second. I’m not feeling full until he fills me with a third. He pumps his hand, faster, and his thumb rubs my clit, taking me higher.

  My climax curls my toes, pulses through me in breathtaking waves. I seize lightly, head rearing up from the armrest, my lips parting for his incoming mouth.

  “Mhm,” he moans against my lips. Or is that my sound of pleasure? It’s too chaotic to tell, and I don’t care, so long as his fingers prolong my orgasm.

  When he moves to let us breathe, he murmurs, “You wanted to leave.”

  I did.

  Embarrassed he’d bring it up, I kiss him, silencing whatever other teasing accusations he has coming my way, I lock our lips together, letting his seeking tongue into my mouth. Now I’m definitely moaning, loudly. His fingers have left my pussy and he’s trailing the warm, wet digits around my areola, smearing my juices over me.

  Letting him go, I watch as he sucks in my breast and cleans me up. I’m sure he’s heading lower, but after smacking a quick smooch over my lips he says, “Your turn.”

  Before I can ask, I’m being lifted and carefully rolled over, our chests pressing together, my softness yielding to his hard, sculpted body. It takes some maneuvering, but when I’m on top, his bulge pressed to my core, Luke grins at me.

  “Ride me, baby. Show me how much you want my come.”

  That kind of dirty talk is enough to make me orgasm again, but I hold off, drawing him out of his slacks and boxers, fumbling until I have the flushed head and weeping slit of his cock kissing my opening.

  Luke’s grin wavers with his clenched groan.

  I slid him in, sitting down and pressing my full weight over him. He feels so good inside. I don’t remember what it was like when he wasn’t filling me, but I imagine it was horribly lonely and empty.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Luke breathes. His cheeks are suffused pink, his mouth parting with his fast breaths. Cool and calm as he may usually be, this is a different side to the man I know as my boss.

  Like during our date tonight, there are cracks in that façade he dresses himself up with day-to-day at the dealership.

  But now I’m in control, given the reins of leading us both to our sexual fulfilment, and I embrace the responsibility, my enthusiasm to rock and ride his thick, hard dick shedding any remaining bits of self-consciousness. I slide up and down, Luke’s hands supporting me some, my hips slapping down against his.

  “That’s it, sweet Lily, take it. Take all of me.” Luke’s encouragement, hoarse and deep, heightens my pleasure.

  I drag my nails over his chest, my palms flattening to still my shaking hands. I’m close now. So delightfully close to the end.

  Unabashed, moaning as loudly as I like, I ride him and grind to another orgasm. My body tenses, pleasurable pulses knocking me fiercely, my hands splaying and steadying on Luke’s chest. If his hands hadn’t been holding my thighs, I’d have surely slipped off.

  He’s gripping me tightly, groaning out his own pleasure, his hot fluid massaging my vaginal walls, warming me. His jerky thrusts slow and soon he’s rubbing my sides, smiling lazily up at me.

  I crumble forward, Luke buried in me, my body hovering above reality in afterglow mode. My head resting by his, I reach to brush my lips to his bare, relaxed jaw. I brush my nose on the same spot, moaning when his hands cup my butt cheeks, spreading them apart, letting cool air brush my still wet opening.

  Luke holds me long enough for my heart to calm to a normal rate and my body to float back down to the real world, and the real-time consequences.

  “Shit.” Luke’s curse brings my gaze up. “You’re not on the pill, are you?”

  I shake my head, some much needed blood rushing from my pulsating vulva back to my brain. “You didn’t…” I don’t finish the sentence. I’m well aware he hadn’t used a condom. I was the one angling his thick shaft inside of me.

  “They have morning-after pills for that sort of stuff, right?” Luke is thinking more clearly than me. I’m ready to resign myself to a very inconvenient pregnancy, but he’s on the ball with an answer. “Lily? I’ll look into it.”

  “Sure. That’d be good.” I’m ready to relax again, except when Luke said he’d look into it, he meant right then.

  Moving out from under me, he holds up a hand as I sit up. “You stay and rest. I’ll hop over to the closest pharmacy and be right back.” He’s dressing wildly like the devil’s on his heels, promising hellfire and brimstone for the rest of eternity. It’s enough to have me reaching for my discarded dress at the bottom of the sofa.

  Luke notices I’m standing, slipping it on. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready,” I say, a little too huffily. I’m hurt, but I hate that he has to be privy to how much. “For when you get back and call one of your men to take me home.”

  Luke is moving to me, but I hold up a hand, backing around the coffee table, careful not to slip and tumble. That wouldn’t help here.

  I need to look strong, capable, and perfectly clear-headed with my words and decision.

  “You go, run off and get that magic pill for me.” I make a shooing motion with my hand, lowering it at his slashing brows and scowl.

  Luke looks fierce. I swear a muscle jumps in his hard jaw. His eyes are chiseled bits of dark green, slicing through me, analyzing me after that display.

  But I’m not putting on a show for fun. Everything I’ve said is what I mean. He should run off and return with the morning-after pill. Lord knows a baby thrown into our lives would only make matters worse. No innocent should be tainted by any of this falsehood.

  “You want my baby,” he drawls, his voice thick with his displeasure and frustration. “Is that what you’re telling me, Lily, you want my child? Because if that’s the case, we seriously need to have a chat—”

  “No!” I gasp, not caring I’ve interrupted him.

  My fists clenching in front of me, I spit out, “I don’t want your baby. I don’t even want this stupid, fake relationship. I never wanted any of it, not like this.”

  And then because I feel the tears coming, I scamper around his furniture for the front door, already planning to hoof it, call for a cab once I’m far enough from his beautiful condo, his gated community, and his world.

  Grabbing my discarded stockings by our haphazardly tossed shoes, I hurry to slip on my heels.

  “And forget the pill,” I snap over my shoulder, voice cracking on a sob. “I’ll pick it up myself.” I still don’t feel better, so out of malicious spite, I call back. “I can’t see why Detective Dayton is the bad guy here. He’s the one searching for criminals to arrest, hold them responsible for killing someone. Maybe I should help him—” I cut off.

  Luke is on me in a few seconds, a few strides.

  He presses me to the front door, hands slapping the light-colored wood, his eyes wild, his voice icy. “You will not.”

  Pushing his face into mine, leveling our stares, he growls, “Do you know what you’re saying? Can you hear yourself? I swear, Lily, I pegged you for being smarter than this.”

  When I try to talk, he takes a sharp, warning breath. “Listen carefully, so you can’t say I didn’t tell you. My family is off-limits. Detective Dayton, he’s threatening that. He’s nothing but a salivating dog sniffing and barking up the wrong fucking tree.

  “You think he’s such a good guy? A good cop? That picture I showed
you is attached to an article. The guy used to work for undercover narcotics in St. Louis. His reputation was in question after his partner was killed, and he survived the so-called gang hit. Next thing he’s here, in Potentia, supposedly transferred here on his request.

  “Well I call bullshit. Guys like him will knock anyone down on their way to the top. He’s not going to hurt my family, Lily, and you’re most certainly not going to help him do that. Am I clear?”

  I nod, frightened. I sniffle.

  Luke’s gaze darts over my face, his scowl present, his anger slamming off him in waves. But he pushes back with a grunted “Let’s go.”

  The drive to my apartment is in silence. No music to cut through the tension between us. I realize halfway through that I forgot to collect my panties. I press my thighs together, and I sneak a peek at Luke’s shadowy profile.

  Slowing to a stop in front of my building’s entrance, I’m ready to leap out, but I hold fast, hand releasing my seat belt. Luke is keeping his eyes dead straight, his hands on the ten and two o’clock and the engine humming, seat warmer alive under me.

  “I wouldn’t hurt your family,” I say, pushing past the guilt. After the fear of his crazed reaction to my threat of seeking out Art Dayton, I’m left wading through the worry of having lost his confidence.

  Our super short time as a couple might have come to an end, but I don’t want to lose my job for it. And I don’t want to lose Luke, an otherwise easygoing boss, to my very raw heartbreak and stupid mouth.

  “I would never hurt you and your family. I owe you more than a job, Mr. Hanley—Luke. I owe you a life in this wonderful, peaceful town.” Trusting I’ve said enough, I leave the rest behind me, exiting the car and closing the door after me.

  Luke doesn’t drive off until I’m in the foyer and standing by the elevators. Then the tires scritch and he’s zipping away, back to his world and his life.

  Chapter 11

  Luke

  I jerk awake with Lily’s name on my lips.

  But it’s Russ staring down at me. Russ and Keith, and they’re sharing identical looks—a cross of humor and curiosity. Russ nudges Keith to the side, the taller, thickset man lumbering to the blinds and rotating them open.

  “Fuck,” I cuss, shielding my face from the sun, my body flipping to the side to give my back to the master bedroom’s bay window. “Seriously?” I holler.

  There are footsteps, thudding ones, and then Russ mutters, “Wait downstairs.” Then there’s a schick and the damned sunlight fades to a faint glow, the room caught in day and my post-drunken despair.

  Yeah, I’m embarrassed to even think it. I drank myself to sleep. It’s unlike me, but there it is, hanging in the air, the thick musk unmistakable.

  I sniff my sheets. Shifting up to prop against my pillows, I dig around to draw out the emptied bottle my foot bumps. It’s emptied because, as I flip to confirm it, there’s a large wet circle near the foot of the bed from the upended bottle.

  “How the fuck did you get in?” I’m on Russ as soon as I note his gaze on the bed stain.

  It’s mortifying enough to admit I slipped up, but to reveal this part of me to a witness is too much. Hands bunching up the fitted sheet, I snap, “Any day now. It’s not like I don’t have a life.”

  “The housekeeper let us in an hour ago.” Russ blinks up to meet my eyes.

  “Ellen?”

  Russ nods. “She only cleaned up downstairs. She said she knew you were still sleeping and didn’t want to make any noise cleaning the rooms up here.”

  Ellen was my father’s long-time housekeeper. She’s been as much a fixture of the Hanley family as a blood relative. I love the woman, but she’s loyal to my father and they often tag-team against me.

  I can’t imagine what Ellen will be heading back to report. It’s not like I can cover the stench in here. I might as well have poured booze everywhere.

  Shit. Guess I have to check everything and make sure I didn’t have any other ‘accidents’ like the one that would see my mattress to the garbage once I could get my head together.

  My thoughts can’t sit still. I’m jumpy as fuck, my left eye twitching, my mouth cotton-dry and my heart palpitating like it’s readying to rip out of my chest and run off on me. The bloody muscle probably wants to chase Lily down…

  No, I’m not even going there.

  “She said she’ll be back later in the afternoon to clean up.”

  I shake my head, flabbergasted. “I can’t believe she’s still coming here.” And because I’m a little wonky and off my game, I mutter, more loudly than I intend, “I would have run away from this shit sty.”

  Remembering I have company, I look to Russ.

  Russ turns his head as I give him the stink eye. He shuffles uncomfortably.

  Good. Let him be nervous. This is how things are supposed to be around me, how things are supposed to be between us. I’m his fucking boss.

  Just like you were Lily’s boss…

  The taunting voice in my head awakens the beast of a hangover clouding behind my eyes, hot, heavy and powerful. I raise the heels of my palms to my temples, fighting pressure from the inside with pressure from outside. Closing my eyes, I grind my teeth, and concentrate on imagining the pain poofing away.

  I hadn’t noticed that he walked away, but Russ is speaking over me now and his voice grates like nails down a chalkboard. I’m preparing to tell him to “shut his fucking mouth” when I open my eyes and look down at the tray he’s magically procured and holding out.

  I grab at the bottle of ibuprofen, and dumping three pills into my sweaty palm, I dry swallow them, but drink the water when the pills feel stuck to the side of my throat.

  Russ quietly steps back with the tray, now holding the emptied glass of water.

  I reach for my cell, face down on my nightstand. It’s well past noon. Of course I slept to a crazy hour. Not only am I dealing with a raging headache, but now I’m riding the rising waves of a foul mood.

  I’m hardly one to plan every minute of my day, but I do keep a to-do list handy, and I planned a lot for this Saturday.

  Somewhere in my foggy, pain-addled mind, I recall making an appointment to meet with Russ on the intelligence mission I sent him out on last night once he confirmed Art Dayton’s existence.

  Before last night, the detective was none of my concern. He was another cop out there to evade, elude, handle, but now, after what he’s done, I consider him a threat to the Hanley legacy. And I have yet to see the fucker face to face.

  The bastard even got to Lily, convinced her into spewing the crap she was tossing my way last night.

  Lily…darling, naïve…sexy-as-fuck Lily.

  Well, I wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore. She made it clear she didn’t want this, and I’m not going to force myself on her. I’d have to figure out a plan B now that that alibi was out the window, but whatever it’s going to be, I would have to keep it from unsettling Lily’s life any more than I have thus far.

  “What do you have for me, Russ?”

  “Maurice’s been spotted.” Russ says. It’s a bit of good news until he adds, “But as soon as he surfaced, he went under again.”

  “The strip club needs its owner, and I need to beat some fucking sense into that man.” My tone is clipped. “Find him, Russ. And then give me the news I want to hear.”

  Russ dips his head, a flop of his mussed black hair falling over his forehead. His dark eyes are sharp though, and I sit up for what he has to say next.

  “Your girl had a visitor.”

  I tighten my lips on Russ’ labelling Lily as mine. She had been my girl, for just about twenty-four hours, and then something remarkable happened— a first in my life since early elementary when most boys and girls were in the cootie phase: Lily left me.

  “Female, male?” I choke on that last past.

  “A woman,” Russ says.

  Relief swarms me, but I refuse to admit to myself why.

  Russ proceeds with a description
of Lily’s guest: Caucasian, redhead, tall, slim, friendly with Lily. I don’t care about any other woman though. I’m impatient for him to get back to Lily, but clearly I’ll have to prompt him.

  “What of Miss Erickson?”

  “She seemed all right. Moody. The other woman had her wrapped in a hug at one point.”

  My chest squeezed, my temples throbbing anew with the knowledge that it was me. I’d caused Lily to cry.

  Unless something else happened since I dropped her off last night.

  “What were they doing?” I asked that question too quickly. At least Russ’ expression doesn’t give away whether or not he noticed.

  “Jogging, if I had to guess by their gear.”

  “Jogging?” Huh? So Lily jogged? How come I didn’t know that? She was delightfully curvy. A little fleshier than the chicks I date—women like thin, tall Angelina.

  “I didn’t follow them though,” Russ reports. “Keith called with an interesting story. I thought it more pertinent, but if you’d like, I can head back out there.”

  “No,” I fan at the air. Why have him believing I care about Lily more than I should?

  I can name a few other uses of Russ’ expertise. I pay handsomely enough for his loyalty. Sending him after a beautiful woman who both frustrates and arouses me is not the best use of his time.

  Besides, Lily isn’t my girl as he put it. She never was and she never will be, not when she made it so clear she thinks so little of me. I should be keeping my distance, working her out of my system or some shit.

  Damn. This hangover is lethal.

  The headache of doom calmed at the painkillers, but apparently the guilt’s having an effect on me. I must look pitiful enough for Russ to break his usual decorum. He’s asking after my health.

  “I’m fine,” I mumble, waving off his concern. And to prove how fine of an ass I am, I rush out of bed, standing weakly.

  If Russ hadn’t been there, I would drop. Only now we both fall over, the tray thudding on the carpet.

  Keith’s footsteps sound quick and heavy up the stairs and down the hall. His big frame fills the doorway. By that point Russ has successfully pulled his body off of mine. He scrambles to stand, telling Keith, “We’ve got it.”