by LM Spangler
Ridley kneeled on the bed with one of her shoulders bared as the sleep shirt and her bra strap had slid down her arm. His gaze fell to the bruise on her cheek and her swollen lip. They marred her skin, but did nothing to detract from the perfection of her beauty.
Need slammed into him, sending a rush of blood to a lower part of his anatomy.
Her gaze fell from his chest, down to his crotch, and to what laid hot and hard underneath his jeans. Her alluring smile drew him closer. Her hands trembled visibly as she’d begun unbuttoning the sleep shirt, exposing more and more creamy porcelain skin.
“Are you…” He swallowed hard. “Are you sure? If we start, I won’t be able to stop.”
The same alluring smile graced her face. “Come to bed, Jack.”
Like a siren pulling him closer and closer with her song, he approached the bed, stopping at the edge. His hands went to her bared shoulders, sliding over satin skin, until his hand cupped the back of her head, and he gently pulled her upright until they were nearly face to face. “So soft. So beautiful,” he murmured as he lowered his head to gently kiss her. Just hard enough to prove he wanted her, but not hard enough to hurt her stitched lip.
“Jack,” she murmured against his mouth.
The dam broke, and the emotions ran unchecked. He grasped the sleep shirt in his hands and pulled in opposite directions until the cloth tore. After removing the remnants of the shirt, his hands reached around her back and undid her bra, exposing her breasts to his hungry gaze. Her rosy nipples puckered, drawing his attention to the hardened buds.
He stripped in record time.
He returned to her and began kissing a path down her neck, over her collarbone, and to the valley of her breasts.
“Jack, please,” she pleaded, turning so her nipple brushed his mouth. Who was he to turn away such an offering? He latched onto the bud, swirling his tongue, nipping the flesh. Her head fell back and she groaned, arching further into his mouth.
She was pure need and desire, showing him exactly what she wanted.
“On your back,” he ordered, needing to taste every inch of her body. When she lay back, he told her to spread her legs, exposing her desire-slicked core. He kneeled onto the plush carpeting and positioned himself between her legs.
He peppered her stomach with open-mouthed kisses, going lower, kissing the insides of her thighs, before running his tongue over her core, tasting her, reveling in her flavor. Her hips bucked, forcing her sex against his mouth. Again, who was he to deny a lady?
As his tongue circled her hardened bud, he thought he’d explode before even making love to her. Her reactions—writhing hips, throaty groans, murmurs of approval—fueled him and drove him to push her over the edge. He teased the entrance of her channel with a finger before sliding it into her silken heat.
Her abdomen began to quiver and he knew she was close to an orgasm. He increased the pressure of his tongue on her clit, circling faster and faster, harder and harder.
Her thighs shook a moment before she groaned low and loud, so close to her release.
He found more pleasure in pleasuring her. So much so that he’d forgo any rectification. He needed to drive himself into her quivering channel, to feel her explode around his cock.
He stood, scooted her further back on the bed, levered her hips, and drove himself home.
****
He entered her with a powerful thrust, sending her to the precipice. Each thrust wound her tighter and tighter, closer and closer to falling over the edge of ecstasy.
She’d had sex before, but nothing like this. Jack ensured her pleasure before securing his own. Dean had always made her take care of his needs before hers. And quite often, she’d receive none. She’d learned to deal with it.
Now, she experienced how sex was supposed to be. Mutual gratification. She hadn’t performed any foreplay on Jack, but it hadn’t been necessary. He’d done what he wanted to, searching for the end goal for both of them.
Her hands went to his sweat-slickened chest, feeling the muscles bunch under her fingers. He’d closed his eyes, head back, absorbing each thrust again and again, entering to the hilt over and over. Finally, she’d reached the breaking point, the point of the purest pleasure. Jack must have sensed that her orgasm was eminent. He lifted his head, his eyes locking and holding hers. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on her lips.
That small, loving gesture ignited the fire, creating a conflagration. Her back arched off the bed, her hands gripped the comforter, and she gave in, allowing the waves of passion to pull her under. Her sheath gripped him as she exploded, fragmenting into a million points of pleasure.
The perfection of the moment sent him over the edge as well. He ground his hips against her as he rode out his own release.
He rolled off her and onto his side, pulling her against him so her head rested on his chest. His heart beat loud and fast under her ear. She contently listened while he ran his fingertips up and down her spine, again and again, bringing a blanket of contentment over her.
No, she never experienced this with Dean. Sure, the sex felt good while it lasted, then it was back to the mundane day-by-day job of being his wife until he wanted sex again.
Jack had made her feel precious, loved, alive.
And she found she liked to feel that way.
She lay there waiting for the guilt to set in, to make her regret having made love to Jack. She waited and waited and waited, but the guilt never came, telling her she had made the right decision to seduce him, to have him make love to her. She snorted softly.
His voice rumbled in his chest. “What was that for?”
Her hand began to stroke his chest, feeling the crisp hairs under her fingertips. “I was waiting for the guilt to kick in.”
“Yeah?” he questioned.
“I don’t feel guilty. I feel … great.” And she did. She had wondered how having sex with Jack would feel, but the guilt would trickle in when she looked at Dean. Now, she’d feel wonderful when Dean was arrested for assaulting her. Her hand left his chest and she stroked her cheek. “How bad is my face?”
Jack winced. “I hate that he put his hands on you. I swear I could…” He let his voice trail off.
Ridley glanced up at him, only seeing his jaw, which was clenched tight. She caressed his stubble-covered chin. “He’ll get what’s coming to him. Eventually.” She hoped.
He smacked her lightly on the tush. “Why don’t you go get a shower? I’m going to call Pops and let him know to open the shop. I’ll tell him to assemble the troops and give them a heads up about Dean. We’ll go to my house and I’ll get cleaned up. Then we’ll go to work together.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off.
“Listen, I finally have you and I refuse to leave you alone, in case the asshole comes back. I don’t even care if you sit in my office all day and not work. I want you with me.”
Those words took the wind out of her sails. She could be bullheaded, but how could she lock horns with him after he said those things? The answer was that she couldn’t. “Okay,” she agreed as she scooted out of bed and strode to the en suite bathroom, pausing at the mirror.
Her cheek was purple and blue from the corner of her mouth to halfway up her cheek. It could have been a lot worse. Denah’s quick thinking and ice bag kept the bruise from fully blooming. Makeup would cover the worst of it. Unfortunately, she couldn’t cover her stitched lip.
Deep down inside, she was grateful that Jack would give Pops a heads up. She’d get stares, but no one would question what had happened.
Her bathroom wasn’t overly large, so with a simple turnaround, she started the shower and set the temperature as hot as she could stand. When the water had heated up enough, she stepped under the fall of water and closed the shower door. While shampooing her hair, she thought back to the last twenty-four hours. In that time she’d secured a job, gotten assaulted by her ex, and slept with her boss.
Despite what had happened, she ha
d to thank her ex-asshole. He’d managed to bring her and Jack together. So the worst thing that could have happened ended up becoming the best thing that could have happened.
With a satisfied smile, she finished her shower and wrapped herself in a plush, sage-green terry cloth towel and wrapped the long fall of her hair in another. She grabbed a few essentials from her makeup caddy and within five minutes had managed to hide the bruise. She’d have to reapply the makeup throughout the day, but she’d settle for that.
She unwrapped the towel from her head and ran her fingers through her hair, deciding on the air-dried look. After hanging the towel, she left the room, walked to her closet, and debated what to wear.
Jack’s voice became louder as he reached the bedroom door and opened it. “Yep … see you in a bit. Bye.” He threw his cell phone on the bed next to his discarded shirt. He’d pulled his jeans on, not bothering to button them or put on underwear back on. The picture he’d created wasn’t at all unpleasant. He smiled when he saw her. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Hi, yourself. Uh…” She pulled the towel tighter around herself. “What should I wear? What’s considered work wear?”
He walked in front of her, grasped the towel in his hands, and pulled her against himself. She’d stumbled, tripping over her own two feet, but he kept her upright.
“Hey, you haven’t showered yet. You’d did a little sweating this morning.”
A broad grin formed. “Yes, I did and it’s all your fault.” He leaned down and placed a hard kiss off center of her mouth. “Feel free to make me sweaty whenever you want.” She smiled. “You are so beautiful. You’ve taken my breath away every time I’ve seen you, especially the only Christmas party you’d attended. You were a vision in red. That dress hugged every one of your curves perfectly. You’d paired it with black heels. Your hair was in a bun-type thing with tendrils that fell against your cheek. I was so damn jealous of your ex.”
Charmed beyond belief, her smile broadened. “You remembered what I wore that day.”
“You never forget what a woman was wearing when you fell in love with her.”
His response sent her stomach aflutter. He did love her. Perhaps she should’ve questioned the notion before, but not now. “You really do love me, don’t you?” she asked as she wound her arms around his neck and stepped toward him. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him.
“I do. The night of the party, your ex was dancing with every female in the building except you. You and I got to talking and with each word, I became more fascinated by you. Your sense of humor, your intelligence, your quick wit. By the end of our conversation, I told myself that if I ever had a chance to make you mine, I would. I wouldn’t have had you cheat on Dean with me, but I’d jump on the opportunity if it arose.”
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him hard, not caring if her lip suddenly began to burn and she hissed. It was worth it. “It looks like we jumped each other.”
He snorted. “True. Get dressed in whatever you want. I’ll give you some t-shirts when we get to the shop,” he advised as he pulled the towel off her and swatted her backside as she did a little hip wiggle and walked away.
Chapter Four
The work day had progressed with no drama. Some of the men at the shop uttered their disgust at what Dean had done to her. Some had told her they’d gladly stand in line to kick his ass on her behalf.
Ridley had to admit she felt much safer with a building full of men and multiple hard objects that she could pick up and hurl if she had to. Add Dozer and she had a personal protector that followed her, even to the bathroom.
She spent the day getting adjusted to what her new job would entail. Her comfort level with her abilities was high, allowing her to smoothly transition with both the men and what would be the day-by-day running of the company.
Best of all, she was comfortable working with Jack, even after making love to him. The thought set a thrilling tingle winging through her, settling in her core. She’d found herself clenching her thighs throughout the day and languished in her newfound sexual prowess.
Jack had checked on her throughout the course of the day, as well as her sister and brother-in-law who also vowed to get in line after Jack and his crew.
She, Jack, and Pops closed the shop and were about to leave when Ridley realized she’d forgotten her new Sterling Motors coffee travel mug. She and Jack bid Pops a goodnight and strolled back into the building.
The bell above the door sounded and Ridley turned, expecting to see Pops.
She was wrong. Dead wrong.
“Jack!”
He spun and found himself face-to-face with Dean, and a gun.
Dozer growled and began to lunge toward Dean, who was one step ahead of the dog. The gunshot echoed in the ravenous building and Dozer lay on the floor, bleeding from a hole in his shoulder.
“Dozer!” Ridley raced to her dog, checking the wound on her faithful companion. He panted heavily but was alive. “You bastard!” Her words dripped with venomous animosity. The bastard stood with the same smug smile that he had before he struck her the night before. He was also wearing the same clothing, badly wrinkled, and he sported a five o’clock shadow.
“What do you want, Dean?” Jack asked. “We don’t want any trouble.”
A muscle in Dean’s jaw ticked. “You don’t want any trouble,” he spat. “Why are you sleeping with my wife?”
“I’m not your wife anymore,” Ridley pointed out as she looked at her immediate area, searching for a weapon of some sort. Sadly, the lobby was equipped with cars, clothing, and other merchandise. Nothing that would be helpful.
“That’s neither here nor there,” Dean answered, nonchalantly waving the gun. “What is true is the fact you’re fucking her,” he said, pointing the gun at Jack, before turning it on Ridley. “And the fact you didn’t listen to me and worked all day. I told you to quit. Why didn’t you listen?”
“I don’t take orders from you anymore.” Her chin jutted forward in defiance.
Dean shook his head. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m a man. A woman’s job is to listen to a man. And you disobeyed me.”
“You’re a lunatic. Totally deranged,” Ridley hissed, despite the bone-chilling fear that raced over her, raising the hairs on her arms. She had no idea what had gotten into Dean, but it wasn’t good. His eyes were wide and a bit wild. Not a good combination.
She glanced sideways at Jack who stood ramrod straight and strung tight as a bow, like he’d snap at any second.
“Now, now. You should be begging for your life, not arguing with the man who’s holding you at gun point. Hadn’t I taught you better?”
“You taught me that I wasn’t worth your time or your love. You were interested in a woman who is almost twenty years younger than me. What is Kyla going to think when she finds out that you’re not who you seem to be?”
“You’re already wanted on assault charges, Dean. Do you want to be wanted for murder too?”
“Shut up!” Dean ordered, training the weapon on Jack. “How could you screw her? I thought you were my friend, my partner.”
“I was at one time. Then I saw how you treated Ridley. How you cheated on her. All the time. Then you wanted out of the business and I jumped on buying your half. At that point, you were out of my life.”
“You’re supposed to be loyal to your friends,” Dean said.
Jack snorted. “You’re supposed to be loyal to your wife.
Dean’s nostrils flared and his eyes went wider and wilder, but he laughed, the sound maniacal as it echoed. “Again, that’s neither here nor there.”
Sadness eked into Ridley. Sad that things came to this. Sad that she once believed Dean had loved her. Sad that he’d lost his mind. She glanced down to her dog, whose breathing had slowed, sending a shockwave of anger and ache through her.
“Dean, Dozer needs a vet or he could die. It’s me you want to hurt. Not Dozer, not Jack. Let Jack leave with Dozer and get the m
edical attention he needs.”
An evil, ugly grin spread across Dean’s usually handsome face, making him look as dangerous as he was. “No. Sorry. He’s just collateral damage. You’ll all die. And I’ll go on the lam. Find myself another women who will obey everything that I say.” He pointed the gun toward Jack. “He’ll die first.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pops peek around the corner of the showroom door. He nodded, showed her a gun, and then held up three fingers. Nodding almost imperceptibly, Ridley prepared to spring into action. The muscles in her legs tightened as she readied to propel herself into Jack when Pops’s count hit three.
Time slowed, nearly stopped as Pops signaled one. Her heartbeat pounded in her ear, speeding to a breakneck pace, adding much needed adrenaline to her system. Dean aimed the gun at Jack. Pops signaled two as Dean cocked the gun. And time stopped as Pops rounded the corner of the door and signaled three.
The muscles in her legs bunched and released, launching her upward and slightly to the left, knocking Jack sideways. Two shots rang out simultaneously as she and Jack hit the ground with a thud.
When she gathered herself and analyzed the situation, Dean lay motionless on the ground. His chest rose and fell. He was alive. Pops ran through the shattered showroom door. Glass littered the floor.
Jack was picking himself off the ground. He’d survived unscathed, barring a bruise or two from having her weight land on top of him. Dozer whimpered and her attention went right to him.
She slid on her knees next to him and stroked the thick fur on top of his head. “Hang in there, buddy.” A tear slipped down her cheek. She looked up to Jack. “We need to get him to an animal hospital.”
Screeching tires drew her attention to the parking lot. Three NYPD cruisers came to a halt and their doors flew open. Three cops with guns drawn ran into the showroom. Two ambulances arrived on scene and paramedics ran into the building. Two paramedics stopped at Dean and the other two, after surveying the situation, kneeled next to Dozer.
“He needs an emergency vet. He’s lost a lot of blood,” she sobbed. Jack kneeled next to her and wrapped her in his arms, rocking slowly, murmuring in her ear.
