Fervor made her moan. She was already off her feet with her toes dangling towards the floor. He stormed forward and pushed her down. She hadn’t known where they were going or what his plans were, she didn’t care, she trusted him. When his hard, heavy body settled down on hers, details ceased to matter.
Buttons flew left and right when he ripped open her shirt, her bra was next to go, and then his mouth was on her breasts. Driving her own fingers into her hair, she whimpered his name on a gasp.
Screwing in the club when there were so many employees right on the other side of the office door was a terrible idea. But good sense had never stopped her from making bad decisions.
Clawing her way up under his tee shirt, she scratched his chest, and her delivery of pain made him suck hard on the nipple he had between his teeth. Her yelp made him rise, not to his feet, just enough to clamp his mouth over hers so hard that her head was pinned to the unyielding wood of the desk he’d flattened her on.
Nya didn’t hear him unbuckling his belt, but felt the mass of his hand tugging up her skirt to reveal her crotch. His fingers scooped her underwear aside to allow two to drive into her.
Pumping his digits hard and fast, they were meant to scout and prepare the path that his dick planned to travel. In a practiced move, he pressed his thumb against her clit and circled hard, massaging it against the bone behind.
All the while his mouth stayed on hers and she increased the movement of her hips against his hand. His possessive lips parted and closed in an insistent rhythm. Archer’s tongue never left her mouth as it demanded submission and he had it. He had anything he wanted from her because as one of his hands stirred her juices, the other grasped her breast to flick and pinch her nipple, rubbing the tender tip with his rough fingertips.
Withdrawing from their kiss until they barely made contact, he knew this was the best way to torment her. “Archer,” she said his name into his mouth, and her tongue moved to search for his when it slipped away from its mate.
Protest fled from her thoughts when the hot, hard head of his entitled cock met the opening that his fingers had just departed. This was a bad idea.
Their eyes collided. “This is wrong,” she mumbled, but instead of cooling their desire, the words inflamed it.
Pushing in deeper, he persisted and her legs coiled higher around his waist. “I know,” he breathed in a gruff exhale. “I fucking love it.”
That was all it took for her hips to rise so her pussy could swallow more of him. “You’re so bad.”
“You’re so wet,” he said, fucking her fast.
“Because of you,” she replied, meeting his every advance.
“I like it. I missed it. I need this right here.” Each of his sentences came after a long, fast plunge into her. “Your hot fucking body’s all I think about,” he said. “You should be in my bed. You think I don’t fucking want that? You spending the night alone, that’s fucking wrong.”
“This is wrong,” she said. Clutching at his shoulders, tiring as orgasm began to encroach, she ran her hands up his neck, into his hair, down his back, consumed by their union. “Oh, this is wrong. This is bad. We’re in charge. We shouldn’t be doing this. We should stop. It’s so wrong!”
After his hoarse laugh warmed her, he dropped his head beneath her chin and sucked hard on the front of her neck by her pulse point. “You are bad,” he said, his breath moistening her ear. “You want it bad, horny one. You’ve wanted to ride my cock from the minute I walked in here.”
It might be sad, but it was completely true. Yelling out, she froze in the grip of climax. His pelvis was still working; his cock drove in and slid out as he galloped toward his own end. She shouldn’t have shouted, she shouldn’t have screamed. The staff would know for sure what was going on in here now.
Grabbing his head, she forced him to kiss her, because if his tongue was in her mouth, she shouldn’t be able to call out again. Except at that crucial moment when their bodies reached bliss once more, he whipped his mouth away and growled at her.
“Scream,” he demanded, ordering her to acquiesce. “Scream, damn it!”
His need joined the pressure in her body and she tossed her head back as she bucked and relented, unable to stop herself from screaming out his name.
Still shaking, her body was moist, and her abdomen quaked when his dick slid out of her. Nya didn’t even try to move, she just blinked through the stars that he’d put in her eyes, and listened to him buckling his belt.
“You’re a bad influence on me,” she panted and eventually found the strength to lift her head. “Did you come here just to do that?”
He didn’t answer her, but his sly half-smile spoke for him. “I had business here,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with mixing in a little pleasure.”
Pulling his tee shirt from his jeans, he grabbed his jacket from the chair. She hadn’t even noticed that he’d discarded it. Tossing it over his shoulder, he turned to swagger from the room, leaving her on the desk, legs still akimbo, breasts bared, and mind in complete chaos.
Plonking her head onto the table, she closed her eyes. The office was trashed, she’d have to tidy up, and she’d also have to go and face her staff.
They shouldn’t have screwed on the desk at this hour when everyone was desperate to get home. But all that was waiting for her in her apartment was a cold shower and an empty bed. Covering her face with her hands, she laughed, being bad with Archer was the best “bad” she’d ever known.
two
Running up the stairs of Tag’s apartment block, she let herself in through the front door, then locked it again behind her while relishing the fact that he was once again living alone in a place far more suited to his personality than the last one had been.
Forcing herself to have at least one full day off from Sizzle per week, usually she spent her down time with Archer. But he was still occupied by his guest and she wanted to update Tag on how things were going with the new security measures and the new staff; Sizzle was technically owned by him after all, so it was only right that he be kept in the loop.
The small entry hallway opened into a vast living space with high ceilings, sash windows, and hardwood floors. The place was flashy, just like the Tag she knew. Except this time, when she went inside with her purse hung over her body and a grocery bag under her arm, she came up short.
Standing in the middle of the room, wearing nothing more than a bedsheet, was a ravishing brunette; and one she recognized. “Oh,” the brunette said, clutching the sheet tighter to her chest wearing look of contrite shame. “Oh my God, he’s married. I knew it. Why wouldn’t he be? A guy like him, of course he’s married. I’m sorry—”
“No, I—he—no—I—” Nya felt the urge to calm the woman who was on her way to a meltdown. But she was too surprised to do it well; her shock prevented her from putting together a coherent sentence for another five beats. “I’m not his wife.”
The brunette glanced toward the glass shelving unit near the kitchen, then strode over with an outstretched arm. “This is you. The, the picture, this is you.”
The one photograph Tag had in his whole apartment was of her. It was sort of an inside joke, a tease, because she hated having her picture taken, and she hated it being displayed even more. Funny that this woman should think she was a girlfriend because there was a picture present in the room.
Nya’s actual boyfriend would balk at the idea of putting up her picture because he didn’t bother with superfluous items, he used the barest minimum of furniture not because he was trying to save the world or going for a particular style of décor, but because knick-knacks gathered dust and dust was Archer’s natural prey.
“Yes, that’s me,” Nya said before the brunette could pick up the picture to examine it too closely. “But I’m not his girlfriend. I’m not his wife. I’m… I’m just a friend.”
The brunette relaxed, she stopped walking, and her stuttering ceased too. “Oh, thank God.”
Nya had to remember h
er place and that didn’t involve slinging accusations. “And who are you?”
“Oh, I’m…” The brunette averted a smile as a sort of coquettish glimpse at the floor that told Nya just how smitten this beauty was with her oldest friend. “Farrah Hexam.”
Nya had known that, she’d known who the woman was because she’d seen her before.
Tag had been tasked with meeting Farrah Hexam by apparent accident so he could flirt with her and tempt her away from the boyfriend her brother, Brett Hexam, didn’t like. Hexam was a scary guy, a gangster many levels above Tag on the street, it had almost been the end of her life, and Tag’s, when the men clashed. Solving Hexam’s personal problem was supposed to zero the clock. As far as Nya was concerned that was exactly what had happened and the play had been finished weeks ago.
Farrah dumped the boyfriend, so Hexam cleared Tag’s debt and Tag was freed from his self-exile. Life was supposed to be returning to normal and the last thing Nya had expected to find was this woman naked in Tag’s apartment.
“Have you been seeing him long?” Nya asked, moving into the kitchen with her brown paper grocery bag.
Archer had to have rubbed off on her, because she should be asking Tag questions like that, not probing this random, apparently naïve woman, for information while her guard was down. Still, getting information from Farrah’s side, since she had access anyway, would be a good benchmark for Nya to decipher if Tag was being honest when she asked him the same questions.
This relationship was such a bad idea that Tag would have to lie and make excuses. He couldn’t possibly tell the truth because there was no justifiable reason for him to be screwing around with the sister of the man who’d wanted to hurt him not that long ago. His excuse would be—though he wouldn’t phrase it in this way—that his cock was making decisions that were likely to get him killed.
“We met about six weeks ago,” Farrah said, coming over to lean on the counter between the kitchen and living room. “I was seeing someone at the time, we couldn’t… you know…”
There was that girlish smile again. Nya was crazy in love with Archer and when she thought about him, she was infused with molten carnal awareness. But she didn’t think she’d ever giggled when someone mentioned his name or asked her a question about him.
“You’re not seeing that guy anymore?” Nya asked, unpacking Tag’s treats from the bag and the pastries she’d bought for them to share with coffee from his swanky machine. Except he wasn’t here, so she’d share them with Farrah instead, maybe the bribe would succeed in persuading the beauty to share more details.
“No, that ended,” Farrah said. “I finished it and… I should’ve been sad, I really cared about him, but… I couldn’t stop thinking about Tag.”
“So you contacted him?” Nya asked.
It didn’t matter who was the instigator of the relationship, Tag should’ve let Farrah down gently. The point was never to get into a relationship with her, never to sleep with her. The point was to separate the Hexam sister from her ex. Nya knew how it had happened because she’d pestered Archer enough that he allowed her to watch the final confrontation, when the boyfriend caught Tag and Farrah kissing on the street.
Gio had set it up to ensure the boyfriend was a witness to that first kiss, so they knew when it was going to happen, meaning she could convince Archer to let her sit in his car with him and watch from afar. The altercation was loud and emotional, but no blows were exchanged. That was the first and last time that she’d laid eyes on Farrah, and was supposed to be the last time Tag saw her as well.
Archer was going to blow a gasket. He’d used up favors and pulled strings to get Tag out of the last mess. This time it wouldn’t be so easy.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” Farrah said. “But, yes, I did. I was upset. I called Tag and he was so nice to me. He invited me over for a drink.”
“Last night?” Nya asked. If this was a short-lived affair, it wouldn’t be public, and there shouldn’t be deep feelings involved, maybe it could be nipped in the bud before there was any permanent damage.
“No,” Farrah said, displaying her glowing white teeth. “I’m not quite that easy. This was two weeks ago. We’ve been keeping it quiet.”
Yes, well one would have to be wary of publicizing a boyfriend when your brother was a torture-loving maniac gangster. Tag seemed to look for trouble these days. In the past, he’d been the sensible one, but this was off the charts stupid. Maybe this was some kind of premature mid-life crisis, but at only thirty-four, it was wishful thinking to hope for that.
Or maybe he’d been given news of a terminal disease that he didn’t want to face, but he was too scared to be decisive in ending his life so he wanted Hexam to do it for him. Something had to be going on for him to be inviting bodily harm like this.
“Why?” Nya asked, playing it cool while making the absent Archer proud. “Why would you be keeping it quiet?”
“It was Tag’s idea,” Farrah said, tapping a manicured fingernail on the marble kitchen counter. “I don’t know, I guess it makes sense. I’m not long out of a relationship, it wasn’t long-term, but maybe it’s a respect thing.”
Respect for others wasn’t Tag’s primary motivation in life. Keeping his head was. They wouldn’t have a problem with doing that if he followed the one on his shoulders as opposed to the one dangling between his legs.
“Is he around?” Nya asked.
“He went to take a call in the bedroom.”
Nya retrieved two plates and put a pastry on each one before carrying them over to the table. “Share with me,” she said, pushing the plate toward Farrah.
“Oh no, I couldn’t, I…” She glanced at the door and at the plate and back at the door as if Tag might be horrified to catch her eating. Although the sheet covered her figure, Nya had seen how svelte she was when she watched her crying on the street corner, standing between two men who were hell-bent on screaming bloody murder.
“Tag likes a girl who can eat,” Nya said. “Trust me. I won’t steer you wrong with him.”
Except she probably should.
Tag had a habit of disliking her boyfriends and doing everything he could to drive a wedge into her relationships. Nya had always taken the opposite approach, maybe because she enjoyed being contrary. She encouraged his girlfriends, nurtured them, tutored them on Tag, and listened to them cry when he broke their hearts, as he so frequently did.
So it was habit that made her attempt to bond with this woman. But the relationship was an awful idea that Hexam would go ballistic about. Nya should be doing everything she could to discourage it if she wanted to save Tag’s skin.
Farrah came over, balanced on her dainty little tiptoes and perched on the corner of the seat perpendicular to Nya’s. “You sure you’re not the crazy ex-girlfriend who could be trying to kill me?”
“No, not ex either,” Nya said, tearing off a piece of her pastry and popping it onto her tongue.
Peering closer, Farrah tilted. “You’re not the potential girlfriend with designs on him who wants to claw out my eyes because I’ve been with him?” she asked, touching a fingertip to the pastry before licking the invisible taste with her delicate pink tongue.
Wow, Hexam hadn’t only sheltered his sister, he’d made her paranoid about every potential threat. “Not potential, no. You don’t have to worry about me. Tag and I are just friends, have been for years and I have my own man to worry about, I don’t need another taking up my time.”
“You’re seeing someone?” Farrah asked like this was the best news she’d heard in her life.
“Yes,” Nya said, elongating the word and pulling off another piece of pastry to gobble it up as she brushed her hands together to rid them of crumbs. “But I want to hear more about you and Tag. So you’ve been seeing each other for two weeks?” Farrah nodded. “Has he been treating you right? Taking you to dinner and movies…?”
Farrah was already shaking her head. Good, Nya thought, because if they hadn’t been seen out in
public, there was a chance Hexam didn’t know this was going on. Archer had said that Hexam was planning to leave the country, but Nya had never followed up to find out if he actually did go.
There had been no need for her to ask questions when, as far as she was concerned, Tag’s debt was settled and Hexam was a part of their past.
“Do you live around here?” Nya asked. “Have a place of your own?”
“I live with my brother.” Farrah took a flake of pastry from her plate and forced herself to take it past her lips.
Damn, she lived with her brother, which meant every time Farrah went out, Hexam knew it. Every time she came back, he knew it. Every time she didn’t bother to shower after having sex with Tag, her brother would smell the stench of it when she returned to his pad. Hexam had gotten rid of one boyfriend and would want to get rid of another, especially one he had such a fraught history with.
Nya didn’t know much about the previous boyfriend, just what she’d managed to finagle from Archer. But Hexam’s greatest worry was that the man wanted to wheedle his way into the Hexam operation. Tag was one of Hexam’s competitors, he would have to have the same thought, or suspect industrial espionage, when he found out what was going on.
“Your brother, is he a nice guy? Have he and Tag met?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, scooting even closer to the edge of the chair.
Nya was impressed, there couldn’t be much keeping the tall, slight woman balanced. She didn’t know what prevented Farrah from using the chair as others did and sitting in it properly. Maybe her brother didn’t let her sit down at the grown-ups table.
“No?”
“No, they haven’t met,” Farrah said, with more confidence. “Brett isn’t kind to my boyfriends. I think he’d prefer to keep me locked up all the time. He doesn’t understand I’m a woman, I’m not thirteen anymore.”
Scarred (Branded Book 2) Page 2
