Debauched (Undone Book 3)

by Jennifer Dawson

  “Do you feel relaxed with me?” He moves and pats my hip. “Scooch over.”

  I slide to the edge of the couch, that’s deeper than most I’ve been on, and he squeezes in next to me, putting his hand on my stomach.

  I suck in my breath. “Sometimes?”

  A smile twitches at the corners of his lips. “I know you’re not now.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Why?” His thumb traces over my ribs and I barely breathe.

  “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

  His hand skims up my body, trailing between the valley of my breasts before he cups my jaw. “We’re going to talk. I’m going to kiss you. And at some point I’ll send you home.”

  I don’t want to go home. The notion surprises me. I’ve always reveled in my own space. But there’s something about Chad’s home that invites me in and makes me want to stay. I nod. “Okay.”

  “I promise I won’t take it any further.” He brushes his lips over mine, before scraping his teeth over my lower lip.

  The gasp that escapes is involuntary.

  He does it again before saying against my mouth, “I like when you make that hot, needy little sound.”

  Pleasure races through my bloodstream at his words, mixing with the alcohol and making me dizzy. When his mouth passes over mine again, I catch his lips, wanting him to stay. He deepens the kiss, sucking me under. There’s no slowness, no lazy pull. No, it’s instantly hot.

  His tongue touches mine. Our lips tangle, slide together, part only to reclaim.

  His fingers wrap around my throat.

  The feel of his hands pushes my body into overdrive. Another whimper escapes my throat. I clutch his arm as I cling to his lips with mine.

  He slants his head, deepening the connection between us, his leg slides over me, parts my thighs. I shift, turning toward him to feel the pressure of his body against mine.

  I don’t know if it’s because I trust him, believe his promise, or I just want him, but it’s like I’m on fire. I begin to squirm against him, my mouth turning frantic and desperate.

  He flips me over, rolling on top of me, sliding between my legs. I arch up, gripping his hips with my thighs.

  The kiss transforms into something consuming. His mouth becomes demanding and ruthless. And it sucks me completely under. I’m lost. I rock against him again, his hard cock presses against my soft center.

  Our breathing kicks up.

  The air turns hot and humid.

  And it goes on and on and on. Dragging me deeper. Lighting me up.

  Making me want and need and lust.

  As erotic as our kiss has become, he makes no move to take it further and—I don’t know—it frees something deep inside me. The worry, the pressure that I’ll fail dissipates and I sink into the kiss.

  Into him.

  Chad

  I haven’t made out with a girl in forever.

  I’ve been kissing Ruby for over an hour and she’s driving me right out of my fucking mind. The more she trusts I’m not going to demand more, the hotter and more needy she becomes.

  It’s addictive.

  She arches into my cock, her body now demanding, insistent. I ignore all my instincts to grip her hips and surge against her. To unleash on her.

  She wants it, she’s practically begging for it, but if I do, she’ll freeze.

  This is the only way to build her trust.

  I finally pull away from her. Smoothing my hand over her stomach, I move to her side, attempting to catch my breath. I’ve forgotten how erotic just kissing can be. The intoxication of letting the anticipation grow and build, knowing you can’t go any farther. I can’t remember the last time I’ve even wanted. The last time my willpower tested.

  I rest my head on my open palm and she blinks up at me, her breasts a rapid rise and fall. Somewhere, over the course of our rolling around on the couch, her hair has come out of her ponytail.

  Her blue eyes are glassy, her hair a wild mess, fanned out over the couch, her mouth swollen, red, and wet. She’s a fucking work of art right now, and lust rushes through me, but I push it away.

  I rub my thumb over her lower lip. “Someday this mouth of yours is going to be wrapped around my cock, and that is going to be a very pretty sight.”

  She sucks in her breath and holds.

  I continue my slow stroke. “Is that a good sound or a bad sound?” I already know, but I want her to admit it. I want her to begin to associate her arousal with me.

  “Good.” Her voice is husky and a bit lost.

  I let my attention fall to her lips. “Do you like the sound of my cock in your mouth, sliding in and out of your lips, over your tongue.”

  “Yes.” The word is sweet, filled with longing.

  I love her expression right now, so open and trusting, as though she can’t even fathom lying to me. “Why?”

  She scrapes her teeth over her lip, glances away.

  I grip her chin and force her back to me, putting a hint of demand in my voice. “Tell me why.”

  She gulps and averts her gaze. “It’s something I can give you.”

  I have to bite back my moan. It’s such a beautifully submissive thing to say. Even if in her mind she thinks that it’s because of her other issues. I brush a kiss over her mouth. “Do you want to please me?”

  “Yes.” Not even the slightest hesitation.

  Christ. What am I going to do with her?

  Well, I have plenty of ideas, but I’m going to need to take my time. But I can’t deny she’s doing something to me. Something more than sex and desire. Something more than my need to help her. Something I haven’t felt in a long time, maybe not ever.

  I take the first step in binding her to me. “I want you to do something for me.”

  She stares up at me with those trusting, vulnerable eyes. “What?”

  “When you come for me, I want you to call me after and tell me.”

  Her whole body tenses, but I was prepared for that. I trace a path over her ribs and make no comment on her tension.

  She shakes her head.

  “Yes. It’s something you can give me.”

  She sucks in a breath. “I can’t.”

  I expected her resistance too and I’m prepared. “Ruby, how many times since Valentine’s have you come thinking about me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She starts to squirm and I put my leg over hers so she stills “You’ve already admitted you have.”

  A flush splashes on her cheeks. “I have.”

  I kiss her, letting my mouth linger, letting her get sucked under before I pull away. “Since that night have you come thinking of anyone else?”

  She shakes her head.

  I lean down and whisper in her ear, “I already know your secrets. Already know I’m the man you’re thinking about. Already know you’re too turned on to go to sleep tonight without touching yourself. I know all of this. All I’m asking is that you call me and confirm what I already know.”

  She blanches, looking horrified, which is perfect because I’m twisted and like her distress. I trace her collarbone. “Let’s make it easier. Tell me what you’ve thought about so far.”

  Stark dismay plays over her features before she rolls into me to bury her face into my chest, shaking her head.

  I laugh. God, she’s so adorable and innocent and there’s something addictive about it. Maybe it’s because she’s such a surprise. She’s nothing like the girl I thought she’d be when I first met her. “You have to tell me now.”

  Her head shakes viciously again and she says into my neck, “I can’t.”

  I stroke down her spine and kiss her temple. “And why’s that?”

  “It’s embarrassing.”

  I smile. “You know there’s not much you can say that will shock me.” I feign a shudder. “Unless it involves needles and blood. Then you’re on your own.”

  She laughs and the sound vibrates against my throat. “No! It’s nothing like that.”
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  If I want to know, I’m going to have to take her options away. I work my hand under her chin and force her to look at me. I meet her gaze and say in a tone that broaches no argument, “Tell me.”

  Her pupils dilate and she can’t quite disguise the tiny tremor. She licks her lips. “It’s humiliating.”

  “And why is it humiliating?”

  She blinks. “I’m afraid you’re going to laugh.”

  My heart gives a hard kick against my ribs. Reassuring her isn’t enough. She’ll need an example. I run my thumb over her lower lip. “Once, I dated this girl that liked to be a pet. One day I threw a ball to her and she crawled after it like she was a little puppy for an entire afternoon. I didn’t laugh once. And I promise you I won’t laugh at whatever you tell me.”

  Instead of her expression lightening as I’d expected, it grows more worried. When her chin trembles I say, “What’s wrong? I promise whatever it is, whatever you want to say, will be okay. That it sounds worse stuck in your head than it will to me.”

  My reassurance doesn’t clear the tension in her features, but I can’t back down. I’ll need to push her, break down all her walls and barriers. As much as it frightens her, it’s what she needs.

  She opens her mouth, but whatever words she’s about to say stalls on her lips. “I can’t.”

  “You can and you will.” I tighten my hold on her jaw. “You want to tell me, it’s your brain that stops you.”

  She squirms and I release my hold on her. She rolls to her back and stares up at the ceiling and huffs. “I don’t know why I want to tell you things.”

  I know why, but she’s not ready to hear those reasons. I place my open palm on her stomach. “Does it matter?”

  She swallows and I see the cords of her neck work. “I want to make up a story. To pretend.”

  I say nothing; just let her work through her thoughts.

  She blows out a breath and runs her hand through her hair. “I can’t seem to lie to you. No matter how much I want to.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  She nods. “I don’t want you to know the truth. I want you to want me.”

  I’m missing something key here, but I don’t know what, and won’t until she tells me what she’s thinking. But I can assure her of my desire. I curl my fingers around her ribs. “I do want you.”

  Still staring up at the ceiling, her brow furrows. “You belong with a woman like Layla.”

  I don’t doubt that the knowledge that Layla and I went out on a date once upon a time makes Ruby curious, I also don’t doubt she believes the statement, but it’s also a diversion. And evasions don’t fly with me. “You’re stalling.”

  Her frown deepens. “I am.”

  “It’s not going to work. Sooner or later I will find out what you’re thinking.” I inject that dominance into my voice, knowing the secret part of her will respond. “Sooner is better.”

  “Why does it matter?”

  I lean down and whisper in her ear, “I want to know what makes your cunt greedy.”

  She gasps, and her body arches, before she settles.

  “Now tell me.”

  Attention still intent on the ceiling, she bites her lip. “That’s the problem.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “You have it wrong.” She turns and buries her face in my neck again.

  I wrap my arms around her and let her hide, wishing I could tell her how much it pleases me that she turns to me in her distress. “Then set me straight.”

  “I’m not thinking of anything kinky or interesting.” She presses in closer to me. “What I think about is boring.”

  Ah. Now things are starting to add up. I recognize my mistake, the inadvertent pressure I put on her. Her fantasies are innocent, because she has no real experience with depravity. Has no frame of reference, or sexual experience, that drove her crazy. I tilt her chin and kiss her ruby-red lips. “My only expectation is you tell me the truth. All I want is to know what you’re thinking in that complicated brain of yours.”

  When her expression starts to clear I know I’m on the right path and continue. “This isn’t about giving me a story to jerk off to, this is about learning you. Understanding what makes you tick. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  She trembles a little. “Do you promise you won’t laugh?”

  I brush my thumb over her lower lip. “I promise.”

  “Okay.” She hides her face again. “All I thought about was you standing over me.”

  The concept is innocent, but the implications are not, and she has no idea what that kind of image does to a guy like me, but now’s not the time to clue her in. I prompt her further. “Am I watching you touch yourself?”

  She nods.

  “Good. I like that idea.” I kiss her temple and her muscles loosen. I rub a thumb over the line of her jaw. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

  She tilts her face to look at me. “Okay.”

  “Men are simple, visual creatures.” I kiss her, licking my tongue along flesh made swollen from my mouth. “A girl so turned on she can’t help but touch herself while you watch, is probably on most guys’ top five sexual fantasies list.”

  Her whole expression transforms and she gives me a heart-wrenching smile. “Are you saying that to make me feel better?”

  I take her hand and press it to my lips before moving it to my cock, straining against the zipper of my jeans. “Does this feel like I’m faking?”

  She shakes her head.

  I release her hand and it travels back to the safety of my chest.

  She sucks in a little breath. “Thank you for not laughing.”

  I grip her neck and give her my most serious, most intent look. “Sweet or dirty, innocent or depraved I want to know it all.”

  “I’ll try.”

  I smile down at her. “That wasn’t so terrible, now was it?”

  “Yes it was.”

  I laugh. “But later, you’ll call me and tell me, won’t you?”

  She starts to tremble and she clutches my shirt. “All right.”

  I stroke down her spine. “You’re a good girl, Ruby.”

  She shudders. Sucks in a stuttery gasp, gripping me tighter.

  I fist her hair and tug so her face tilts. I lick her, and then scrape my teeth over her jaw. “You’re my good girl.”

  She melts into me, and our mouths once again fuse together.

  This girl is mine. She will come for me.

  It’s just a matter of time and patience.

  Ruby

  I’m lying in bed, staring at my ceiling, panting for breath. I tried so hard to resist, not wanting to make the call I’d promised Chad, but in the end I hadn’t been able to deny the ache.

  That’s never happened to me. I can always resist.

  It’s two in the morning, I’m exhausted, and when I’d agreed to call him I’d convinced myself I’d go home and go to bed. That I’d have nothing to report.

  The darkness enveloping me, I’d lain in bed, replaying the night over and over again until I burned with lust. It was such a strange experience, because it was nothing I’d ever felt. Before Chad infiltrated my thoughts orgasms had been functional, a once in a while occurrence to relieve stress, not neediness. Something I should do because it seemed the only thing I had available to prove I wasn’t sexually dead.

  But tonight, I felt turned on. Hot. Wet. And swollen.

  I don’t understand what Chad is doing to me. Or how he’s making me respond when no one else has.

  The way he kissed, it was better than sex. Way better.

  He kissed like I was the only woman in the world. That he’d never tasted anything so good in his life. Like he couldn’t get enough, but he’d been true to his word, and never gone further.

  It had given me a freedom that was foreign to me.

  I hadn’t had to think or plan what I was going to do. I didn’t have to think about what kind of guy he might be, what kind of sex he was into so I could play my part.
I didn’t have to fake anything because he expected nothing from me. For the first time I let myself feel, surprised to find I could.

  I glance at my phone, lying on the table next to me. I’d promised.

  He’d made me a promise earlier tonight and kept to it. Now I had to do the same.

  My cheeks flushed. I picked up my phone and pressed his number.

  “Hello, Ruby.” His voice is sleepy.

  I clear my throat. “Did I wake you?”

  “You did, but I don’t mind.”

  I bite my lip. “Should I have waited until morning?”

  “No,” he says, his tone filled with that steady surety that soothes me. “If I’d wanted you to wait, I would have said so.”

  A distant part recognizes what I’m doing and wants to stop me, but I’m too tired for that. I close my eyes. “All right. Thank you for a lovely evening.”

  “You’re welcome. Are you busy after work?”

  My heart leaps with excitement. “No.”

  “Do you want to go see a movie?”

  “Yes.” I’m almost embarrassed to admit to myself, that I would have said yes to almost anything to be with him. Oh god, I’m turning into one of those girls. I’m not sure I can handle it.

  “Good.”

  “All right then…” I clear my throat again. “Good night.”

  Just as I think I’ve gotten off scot-free he says, “Aren’t you forgetting something, girl?”

  A lightning bolt of need shoots straight through me. How many times have I witnessed Michael call Layla “girl” with an envy I can barely admit? My face heats. “Um… No?”

  He chuckles low and lazy. “So you are not calling to tell me you fucked yourself with your fingers and came?”

  He makes it sound so good. So delicious and wicked.

  “Oh, that.” I try and make my voice light. “That too.”

  “Tell me.” His voice lowers. “Say the words, I came thinking about you.”

  I lick my lips, going hot all over again. “I came thinking about you.”

  “Did you think about tonight?”

  “Yes.” It’s so much easier when he asks me questions.