by Lily Harlem
Damn, why did he have to be so fucked-up gorgeous and, heaven help her, so utterly masculine. She hadn’t known what a turn-on she’d find a mannish body like his, but jeez, she wouldn’t mind getting acquainted with him some more.
“You’re playing with fire,” he said, ignoring the gash on his arm and pressing his palms to the door on either side of her head.
“I’m not playing at anything.” She was breathing fast, her nipples tight, a tug pulling at her pelvis. What the hell would Roper be like to fuck? And how did he manage to consume her every thought when he was close?
“Yeah, you are,” he said quietly.
She swallowed and stared up at him. He filled her vision. Damn, she wanted him. “How am I?”
“You’re looking at me like you want a good fuck,” he murmured, “and that’s a dangerous thing to do when I’m around, baby.”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Maybe I do.”
He raised his eyebrows and his nostrils flared.
“Want a good fuck, that is.” Before she could even think about her words, wonder if she’d made a mistake in saying them, his mouth hit down. He plunged his tongue between her lips, past her teeth and tangled it with hers.
She whimpered in shock at the sudden invasion and grasped his cheeks. His stubble scratched her hands and chin, and his chest pressed against hers, squashing her into the door.
He pulled back. “You’re gonna get it good. Think you can handle it?”
“Yes, yes…” She pulled him to her again for another wild, passionate kiss. He tasted amazing, dark and sinful.
He moaned and groped her breasts, squeezing them through her clothing.
She arched into him. All rational thought slipped from her mind. She was alive again, and forget playing with fire, she felt on fire. Lust and desire hadn’t been part of her world for so long and now it was coming at her like a tsunami, crashing over her, consuming her.
He groaned and spread frantic kisses over her cheek to her neck, while at the same time shoving at the thin black leggings she wore.
With a twist and a kick, they were gone.
“Heaven help me,” he said, plunging two fingers into her pussy. “You’re so fucking tight.”
She gasped and hooked one leg behind his, wanting more. Wanting all of it. Of course, she could take whatever he was going to give her. But damn, just his fingers were big.
“Yeah, yeah, sweet girl, good and wet for me,” he whispered, his lips moving against her ear as he pumped in and out of her. “I’m going to fill this little cunt and make you gasp my name.”
“Yes. Yes.” She cupped his pecs, in awe of the raw strength in his body that lurked beneath the surface. “Fuck me. Now.”
With his free hand he fiddled with his belt buckle and shoved at his jeans. He released his cock. “Hold it.”
Slipping her hands down his abdomen, she found his thick erection and gripped it.
“Work it,” he said, pushing his hips forward and his cock deeper into her hold. “Work it good.”
She did as he’d asked. Sliding velvety skin over what felt like steel in a pumping action.
“Ah yeah.” He was breathing hard, his fingers still inside her. “Mmm…”
She continued her push-pull action, watching her movements and enjoying the way his cock looked so big in her hand.
“That’s it.” He pulled out of her pussy and stepped back a fraction. “Now…like this.”
Next thing she knew, she was in the air. He’d hoisted her upward and pulled her legs around her waist.
“Roper!” She hooked her ankles over one another and gripped his shoulders.
He gave her a lopsided grin as he backed her up to the door again. The wood was cool on her butt and she was so damn high up.
“That’s it, good girl.” He angled her pussy so his cocktip was seated at her entrance, then stared at her, teeth gritted.
“Fuck me,” she said, cupping his jawline. “I can take it.”
He rammed in, full depth. No preamble, just a fast, determined drive to the hilt.
She cried out. Pain mixing with pleasure. He’d filled her so absolutely. Stretching her widthways and lengthways. “Ah, ah…”
“Yeah…” he said in a dark, grunting tone, his mouth by her temple. “That’s it. Hurts, doesn’t it, getting fucked. But only for a few seconds, then it’s good, so fucking good.”
He withdrew, barged back in, rubbing up against her clit with his body.
Again, she cried out, but this time the noise ended on a gurgling moan of delight.
He was staring at her face now, watching her. “You want more?”
“Yes.”
He gave it, with another pull back and pounding thrust in. He didn’t appear to take into account her waif-like size and threw solid male muscle behind every action.
The door rattled. She clung tighter to him, but she didn’t need to. He had her impaled, trapped, and he’d taken ownership of her.
Her pussy was wet, her nipples hard, and her clit craved more stimulation.
He began a frantic pace, his hip movements fast and unrelenting as he powered in and out of her.
He squeezed her right breast, his big hand easily covering it.
Beth’s heart drummed, her mind giddy with want. She closed her eyes and gripped the back of his head.
“No, keep them open. I need to see you focusing on me.”
She did as instructed, and it was like looking into his soul. It was as if he was making the connection between them unbreakable, for these few moments at least.
And now she was looking at him so intently, while he was buried so deep, she could see he was a dark, tormented soul with untold histories and pain. Who the hell was he really? And did he ever bare himself to anyone?
What was he seeing in her eyes? Lies, hurt, loneliness? Her family torn apart, her whole life wrecked. A girl who had nothing and was no one?
A tear slipped from her right eye and tracked down her cheek.
“What did they do to you?” he asked, his brow creasing.
“Nothing. Nothing.” She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“Liar.” He kissed her again, sliding his hand up to the base of her throat. The other supported her ass.
Her clit was being stimulated with each one of his thrusts. An orgasm was tempting her—a deep, primitive climax growing in her womb, the first in a long time. She didn’t think of her family or the past. Right now, she was up against the door getting fucked, and that was a blessed relief from her demons.
“I want to come,” she gasped against his mouth. “Fuck, yeah, I’m going to come…” She was getting nearer, the pressure building. “I need it…”
He slid his hand around her neck and again stared at her face with an intensity that would have scared her had she not been so consumed with her craving for release.
His fingers tightened. Pressing against the pulse points beneath her ears and constricting her throat over her airway. She stared at him, her gaze locked with his as her breaths became shallower.
What’s he doing?
The room seemed to shrink with each pound of her heart. It was getting hard to breathe. Small black dots danced in front of her.
“You’re mine,” he said.
“I can’t…” she gasped, managing to drag in only a thin trickle of air.
Suddenly, everything was brimming over, the moment surreal, his eyes glistening with excitement as the peripheries of the room faded to black and encroached, stealing her focus. She opened her mouth, but no words came out and no air went in. She gripped his wrist and tugged. Panic was stealing over her.
“Don’t fight it,” he said. “Come now and it’ll be the best you’ve ever come.” He ground against her clit, shoving his cock in higher and harder.
Beth bucked and writhed as her orgasm ravaged her. She was giddy with it, high, her vision narrowed so there was just his face and nothing more. He owned her, held her life in his hands.
Her pussy spasmed and clamped around his cock.
He let go of her throat.
She wheezed and sucked in air until her lungs were so full she thought they’d burst. Her body trembled, and a gush of wetness flooded from her pussy. Her climax was extending into one rolling wave of bliss.
He grasped her nape and held her face close to his. He quickened the pace, becoming animalistic as he rammed his cock in and out of her. Then, with a roar, he came.
She clung to him and hugged him with her pussy. He was so deep she didn’t know where he ended and she began. Over and over, he shoved into her, his balls slapping up against her ass. She was full of him and now she owned his release.
As he slowed, clarity returned. Her body came back under her control and the near violent spasms in her cunt reduced.
Still she clamped herself to him. This big, tough, rough man who held his secrets close had taken her somewhere she’d never been before. For a few frantic, fiery minutes she hadn’t been Beth Rammada or a homeless girl…she’d been his. Roper had possessed her, commanded her, given her what she hadn’t even known she’d needed.
And damn, his hand around her throat.
She could still feel it there. The tightness of his fingertips, the grip of his hand. It had scared her in equal quantities that it had utterly thrilled her. Maybe it was the sensation of flirting with life and death that had fuelled her family’s perilous career.
He pulled out and stepped away, untangling himself from her as he did so.
Beth slumped against the door, feeling cold and empty without him inside her.
“You okay?” His voice sounded hoarse as he pushed his hand over his hair.
She nodded.
“You took it well.”
Huh, did he expect an answer? Well, she wasn’t about to say thanks for getting wildly fucked and half strangled.
Biting on her bottom lip, she allowed herself to slide down the door into a sitting position. Her body was weak and drained, her adrenaline so used up she didn’t have the strength to stand.
He lifted his right arm and studied the wound. There was a mixture of old and fresh blood oozing toward his elbow. “Shit.”
“That needs seeing to.” She went to move.
“Tell me about it.” He frowned at her. “I can do it. You worry about getting yourself fixed up. You look completely fucked.”
“And whose fault is that?”
He huffed. “Yours.”
She scowled at him.
“Yeah, your fault,” he said. His eyes softened, and a hint of a smile played with his lips. “For being so damn sweet and sexy.”
She rested her head back and shut her eyes. She still had a strange fluttery feeling in her pussy. It had been one hell of an orgasm. It had sent her high, a bit like that time she’d tried coke.
Footsteps and the bathroom door closing.
Just a few minutes. She’d rest here, let her heart rate return to normal and then sort herself out. For once her brain was full of happy, dreamy thoughts and nothing hurt.
Chapter Five
Beth sat on the sofa, freshly showered and holding a beer. Roper had put the TV on and told her to watch what she wanted. He’d then headed into the kitchen area, and soon the scent of frying onions had filled the apartment.
She laughed as one of her favorite sitcom characters poked fun at his brother, then she took a sip of her drink. She hoped Roper was cooking for them both and not just himself. She was starving again, the meal from last night a distant memory.
“Here,” he said, holding out a plate of food.
She hadn’t heard him approach and looked up. “For me?”
“Of course it’s for you.” He frowned.
“Thanks.” She took it, her stomach clenching at the thought of food.
He sat next to her, his knee just brushing hers.
Beth picked up the fork that had been stabbed into the huge bowl of pasta bolognaise.
“Didn’t realize you were a chef,” she said. “This looks amazing.”
“I know enough to get by.” He began to shovel pasta into his mouth.
“Better than me. I’m terrible.”
“Didn’t your mother teach you?”
“No, we had a cook.”
“Fancy.”
“Not fancy, just practical. Mother was busy with her business, plus she hated cooking and mostly what she made was inedible. It was have a cook or eat out every night and some nights, well…it just wasn’t a good idea.” She thought back to the few times her father had insisted on house arrest, a total lockdown. No one in or out. Whenever there’d been trouble with business. With associates who liked to settle debts with lives, staying in to eat had been the only thing on the menu.
“What do you mean not a good idea?”
She frowned as she curled pasta around her fork. “My father, he…”
“What?”
“He had enemies.”
“Enemies…you make him sound like Mafia.”
“No, not Mafia.” Damn, she’d said too much. Roper was a smart cookie. He’d soon get the drift of her problems and how she’d ended up on the streets if she wasn’t careful. And she didn’t want that to happen because it could put him in danger, though he did seem like he could handle himself just fine.
“You said he had enemies. Does that mean you lost him?” Roper asked.
“How’s your arm?” she said, then filled her mouth with food.
“I’ll live.”
He’d pulled on a different sweater, a dark blue one with a small triangle symbol over his right pec. The shape of a wad of dressing over the bullet graze was visible through the material.
“I’ll fix your red one.” She gestured to the sweater he was wearing when he’d been shot, which still lay on the floor by the doorway.
“If you want.”
“Least I can do.” She gestured to the food. “I appreciate it.”
“I was cooking anyway.”
She turned to him with a frown, ready to tell him to stop being such an asshole with attitude. But she stopped herself.
He was watching her intently, with a look of fascination.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He smiled, a proper, full smile that stretched his lips and went to his eyes.
“It must be something.”
“I guess it just hasn’t been as shit a day as usual.”
“You got shot. I’d put that up there on shit days.”
“Yeah, but it didn’t kill me.” He took a slug from his bottle of beer. “Plus I delivered an important message and I got laid.” He shrugged. “Like I said, not a shit day.”
“You got laid. Is that what you call wild fucking against the door and nearly strangling me. I couldn’t fucking breathe. I almost died.”
His smile stayed in place, as though amused by her outburst.
“What? What the hell are you grinning for?”
“You liked it, though, coming like that. Turned you the hell on, and you can’t deny it.”
“I would’ve liked it the ordinary way.”
“Baby, I ain’t no jock with skinny ribs and three chest hairs. I’m all man, and if you tempt me into fucking you, you ain’t gonna get no ordinary fuck. I like it hard, rough and kinky.”
“I’ve noticed.” She filled her mouth with food and turned to the TV.
“Because that’s all you’ve ever had before, isn’t it? Boys trying to be men. Having a bit of fumble and a fiddle down there, but not actually getting you off.”
Fuck, how did he know that? Was she so transparent?
“Welcome to the adult world of sex.” He chuckled. “Where anything goes.”
“Surely consent should come into that.”
He reached behind her and, over her hair, cupped her nape. “Don’t shout rape. You wanted it as much as me. Hell, you begged me to fuck you.”
“Is that how you remember it?”
He leaned close, so his lips were by her ear. “Y
eah, you needed a good seeing to. Adrenaline was spurting in your veins after our little visit to Brooklyn, and your pussy was wet for it. How long is it since you had cock? Weeks? Months? And then it wasn’t a cock as big as mine or with someone who knew how to use it like I do, was it?”
A sensual shiver went down her spine. His hot breath filled her ear; his hotter words filled her mind.
“And,” he went on, “if you’d really hated it, you’d have struggled more. I’d have seen fear in your eyes, terror even. But I didn’t. You were lost to it, lost to me, happy to go to a different world that was far removed from reality and where only me and my dick and the floaty feeling in your brain existed.”
He went to stroke her hair to one side.
Not wanting her tattoo exposed, she turned to him, her shoulder nudging his hand away.
“You fuck like a man possessed by demons, Roper.”
“Maybe that’s because I am.” He paused. “But I’m not the only one, which is why it was so fucking hot between us.” His voice quieted. “Our demons are compatible.”
She reached up and touched his scar, the silvery one that ran over his eyebrow to the top of his cheek. “Compatible demons. That’s kind of romantic for a mobster.”
He laughed.
“What’s funny? The demons or the mobster?”
“Both.” His smile fell.
“How did you get this?” she asked quietly. She stroked over his scar and traced its journey around the left side of his eye.
“It was a long time ago.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“You don’t need to know.”
“But I want to.”
He was quiet for a moment, then, “A knife.”
“Who did it?”
“Some asshole who was running tricks for the Batiste family.”
“The Batiste family?” She’d heard of them. Didn’t know any personally, but her father had bandied their name around on occasion. Sometimes business went well with them; other times they were screwing him over.
He paused. “You know them?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not at all.”
“Yeah, well, they’re a big family from Chicago. That’s where you said you lived, right?”
