Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline)

by Sparrow Beckett

  He’d be damned if he would let her know he was more interested than she was. “Fair enough. But if you want the keys, you have to ask nice.”

  “How nice?” she asked speculatively.

  “Just words and a kiss.”

  “On the mouth?”

  “Is that so bad?”

  “I was expecting something a little more X-rated, considering it’s you.”

  He did his best to look wounded. “Hey, you’re the one who’s always making things dirty. Quit trying to drag me into your handbasket.”

  “Oh, like you’re pure and innocent?” she teased.

  “That depends. Do you have a secret corruption fetish?”

  They were toe to toe now. She gave a vague chuckle, but was staring up at him suddenly looking very shy. Her eyes widened as she stared at his lips. “Just a kiss?” she whispered.

  “I’d ask if you wanted more, but we don’t have time. I wouldn’t want to show up late. Being late is rude.”

  She nodded absently, completely focused on his mouth, as though she was too distracted by the idea of kissing him to listen to what he was saying. Maybe she did like him as much as he liked her.

  “So I’m here. Kiss me and give me the keys.”

  He snorted. “I said you kiss me, not the other way around. I’m not going to do all the work around here, lazy woman.”

  Tentatively, she slid her hands up the front of his T-shirt then ran them over his belly and ribs, to his back, making him want to rip his shirt off so she’d be tempted to do it again. She pulled him closer and stood on her toes, tipping her face upward.

  “You’re going to have to lean down, dork. I didn’t bring any climbing equipment.”

  “I think you can ask nicer than that, miss.”

  She heaved a sigh. “Fox, will you pleeeease lean down so I can kiss your purdy mouth?”

  Trouble. “Is this what you want?” He inclined his head so she could reach him, but didn’t try to kiss her even though his body was urging him to do so much more.

  Lips, gossamer light, brushed against his. She gave a small whimper that went straight to his cock.

  She kissed him harder, as he impatiently held back, waiting as she licked and nipped his lips, trying to get him to respond. The way she rubbed against him, begging for him with her body, almost undid him. The more impassive he seemed, the harder she tried to convince him that he wanted her. Damn, he loved this.

  He waited as long as he could. Before he could stop himself, he tangled a hand in her silky brown hair. She gasped, and made seductive sounds of distress as he dragged her closer to the Spyder and shoved her belly down on the hood.

  “Fuck, yes,” she hissed, arching back against him with her delicious ass, tempting him to yank down her jeans and shove his dick into her hot little cunt.

  Damn, damn, damn. Today wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.

  He slammed the keys down on the hood next to her. “Did you forget what you were supposed to be asking for?”

  “Please?” she asked breathlessly, grinding against his aching cock.

  Several inarticulate Neanderthal thoughts started a fistfight in his head. He forced himself away from her, and realized he was growling. God, the more he was around this woman, the lower his IQ dropped. He got the impression that was her end goal—to see how close to a mindless sex monster she could make him. She might regret it if she succeeded.

  “This is supposed to be a fucking date,” he snarled. “Get your ass behind the fucking wheel. Now.”

  She turned and leaned back against the car like she couldn’t hold herself up. Her tits were heaving, and his hands longed to shred the thin cotton T-shirt hampering his view of them.

  Slowly, she fumbled for the key ring behind her, and sighed as though it was the consolation prize, giving him a last longing look before doing what she was told.

  When he got into the passenger seat, she was running a reverent hand over the dash. She palmed the stick shift, and he’d never envied a car more.

  “So where am I taking you?” she asked. “Please tell me it’s somewhere we can be alone.”

  “You wish. Head into town and I’ll give you directions when we get closer.”

  For a few minutes she pointedly ignored him, but then settled into the drive, moving like the car was an extension of her body. She was good—like a dancer with unharnessed natural talent who only needed a stage to show what she could do. Watching her meld with the vehicle was magic.

  When they got closer to the city, he started to direct her, unreasonably amused that she had no idea where they were going. Maybe this was a horrible idea, but knowing her like he did, he was betting she was going to love it.

  She pulled into the parking lot he indicated.

  “I thought this place was abandoned or something.” She arched a brow, likely assuming there was a tawdry reason he’d be taking her to an old, derelict hotel.

  “They work hard to make people think it is.”

  The graceful architecture of the sweeping turn-of-the-century building was incongruous, nestled as it was amongst the steel-and-glass structures around it.

  “If it was really abandoned it would have been torn down by now and rebuilt as a parking garage.”

  “Hmm. True.”

  A man walked past them toward the Viper that they’d parked close to. Fox ignored him, but Addison’s head whipped around so fast she might have given herself whiplash.

  “Oh my god. Wasn’t that . . . ?”

  “Quiet, woman,” he mumbled. “If a celebrity is here without entourage, he’d rather just be a person today. Besides, no one sees anyone else here. It’s a rule.”

  He led her past front-door security and past reception, to the old elevator. The uniformed elevator operator, who was so old he might have come with the building, nodded to Fox, and pushed the button for the third floor.

  “What is this place?” Addison whispered, staring around, her expression bewildered.

  Fox didn’t answer, but his wink made her blush. The place was a few different things, depending on what a person was looking for.

  When the elevator stopped and the door opened, the air was filled with the buzzing and smell of disinfectant he’d come to associate with this floor. The high-end waiting area stood empty, as usual. Fitte didn’t cater to clientele who waited.

  Loke Sigurdsson, looking huge and dangerous, was already watching them approach. “Fox, you bastard. Five minutes later I would have had security show you the door.” His raspy voice made the melodic Norwegian accent guttural rather than pretty. He and his partners all sounded like they’d spent their first thirty years screaming profanities at people. They pretty much had.

  Geir and Rune glanced over and grunted affectionate insults at him, but they were discussing a sketch and turned back to their own conversation.

  “This is your woman?”

  “Yes. She’s the reason we’re late.”

  Loke snorted and pushed back his mane of black hair. The scar that slashed from eye to jawbone made him look like some sort of supervillain. They were technically still a death metal band, they’d just stopped performing publically. In their invite-only dungeon they still played regularly, in both senses of the word.

  Addison was clutching Fox’s hand, and when he glanced down at her, the grin that lit her face was feral.

  “Hmm.” Loke gave her an appraising once-over. “Hot little piece of ass.”

  Loke grinned wolfishly. She matched it.

  “Watch her around Rune. She’s his flavor.” Loke shrugged as though a man tempted by a woman couldn’t be blamed for carrying her off.

  “She’s mine. I’ll kick his ass if he lays a hand on her.”

  The room went very still. Rune’s gaze drifted over Addison’s face, lingering on her fierce expression before sliding down to
her body. When he was done, he nodded at Fox in approval. “A woman worth having is a woman worth dying for.”

  “Submissive?” Loke asked Fox.

  “Sometimes, but not to you,” Addison replied mildly.

  Geir barked a laugh and said something in Norwegian.

  “Geir says if you ever tire of that vanilla boy, you come play with us.” Rune strolled over, his dark eyes gleaming.

  “Go jerk off or something, Rune. I have work to do,” Loke said dismissively. Rune lingered nearby, eyeing Addison with an interest that made Fox’s hackles rise. He’d watched the three of them triple team a girl before. He hoped that wasn’t one of Addison’s fantasies, because he sure as hell didn’t want to share.

  “Have you decided which of you I’m tattooing?” Loke asked, turning his back to Rune.

  Addison was staring up at Fox.

  “You mentioned you always wanted a tattoo. These assholes are the best, and they owe me a favor. They’re exclusive and have done all of my work.”

  Her face lit up, and he could see her mind racing.

  “No is an okay answer.”

  “Fuck yeah!” she replied without hesitation.

  “I hope you know what you want. I don’t have time to sit on my ass,” Loke groused. “I don’t do cute or cartoons. You’d have to see Rune for that.”

  Rune glared at Loke with his freakishly pale eyes and finally went back to Geir. None of them would agree to do work like that. As successful as they’d already been as entrepreneurs, it wasn’t like they needed the money anymore. They only did what they felt like doing.

  Addison immediately thumbed on her phone and Fox caught the blur of pictures scrolling past. “This.”

  She showed the picture to Loke and he grunted his approval. “Where?”

  “My back.”

  Loke nodded. “Is this your first?”

  “Yes. But I’m not a pussy.”

  Fox chuckled. The way Loke grinned at him, he probably assumed they’d played way more than they had. From what he’d seen so far, Addison was a masochist, but now he wondered just how far that went.

  Fox held out his hand for her phone and looked at the black and white picture on the screen. Several gears fit together, and the inside of the gears were patterned with mandala-like intricacies that were somehow both nerdy and feminine. It was perfect for Addison. A nod to engineering and cars.

  “I’ve wanted this tattoo since I was twelve,” she said.

  Twelve? Just how much of a secret badass was this girl? “You wanted a tattoo when you were twelve? Shouldn’t you have been . . . playing with dolls or something at that age?”

  A shoulder rose in a negligent half shrug. “I did that, too, but my Barbies were bank robbers who drove fast cars.”

  He snorted. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Didn’t you want a tattoo when you were twelve?”

  “Maybe of Super Mario or Michelangelo.”

  “The painter?”

  “The turtle.”

  She grinned at him, and then stood on her toes, peering around curiously as if he’d brought her to Disneyland. “I’d bitch about this being an expensive and wildly inappropriate date, but I want this tattoo too much to object. You’re so getting laid after this.”

  “I would have gotten laid sooner if we didn’t have this appointment.”

  She squeezed his hand hard and looked up at him with undisguised lust. “You do realize this is the best date I’ve ever been on, even before the sex.”

  He sighed as though she were pushing her luck. “You expect me to put out, too?”

  “What?” she asked innocently. “You didn’t expect to get out of fucking me just because you’re spending money on me and let me drive your car, did you?”

  Get out of it? She’d be lucky if he didn’t drag her down a deserted hotel hallway after this.

  Chapter 7

  The sound of Loke’s deep laughter still rang in Addison’s ears as Fox led her down the deserted hallway toward the room number on the key, but she couldn’t find it within herself to care that he knew what she and Fox were about to do.

  Fox had bossed her through the whole tattoo, making her stay still while Loke’s machine had sewn the ink into her skin. She’d twitched once and the large men had turned it into an opportunity to offer to hold her down.

  But it was Fox’s constant attention that had her so damn horny she could barely walk. He hadn’t done anything sexy to her during the tattoo, but between what had happened before they got here and the fact that he was pure, unadulterated hot, she was a complete mess. Her shoulder blade burned and her mind swam with giddy euphoria.

  “Why was Loke laughing at me when we left?”

  “He was laughing at me,” Fox grumbled. “He suggested that maybe I needed them to hold you down while I fucked you too.”

  “So what’s the problem?” she asked innocently. “You like tying me up. Having them hold me down wouldn’t be that different.”

  “Don’t even go there, little girl.”

  She smiled up at him and he arched a brow.

  “You were moaning like you were getting off on it.”

  Getting off on it? Well, maybe a bit, but he didn’t need to know that. “I was not!” Had she been? She didn’t remember any porn star vocal sequences, so he had to be teasing her. Either that or he’d been horny and misreading every sound she made. “Quit fucking with me.”

  “You sounded like you were going to come. Every guy in the shop wants to stick his dick in you now.”

  “They do not. Not for real.” The alternative was too intimidating to consider. She liked excitement, but she had limits. Three men at once—let alone large, mean-looking men—weren’t her idea of a fun time. She didn’t even want to contemplate it.

  Fox was walking so fast she was practically jogging to keep up. He whirled on her, then crowded her backward until the wall stopped her from going farther, narrowly missing both her shoulder blade and one of the wall sconces in the richly wallpapered hallway. The hint of sexual aggression in his eyes was even more lovely than the decor.

  “Listening to you moan like that . . .” He made a sound of exasperation. “You had me keyed up before we even left my place, then you just had to make the whole thing sound . . . orgasmic. Next time you get a tattoo I’m gagging you.”

  “Oh, and having me moan and drool around a gag is going to turn you off—or them?” The other guys had discussed all of the possible sexual positions involving four men and one woman while Loke had been working on her. It had been an enlightening and somewhat terrifying discussion, to say the least.

  His eyes were wild, his lips hovering over hers. He narrowed his eyes. “I thought they’d be more polite with a woman in the shop.” He was staring down at her, his eyes hard, every muscle in his body flexed. Even the tendons in his neck were tense, like he was a predator and she was a tasty gazelle that might bound away at any second. Adrenaline sang through her.

  She grabbed his hard-on through his jeans. His eyes closed for the briefest moment, and he shuddered. He was always more aggressive with her when he was horny. She loved it.

  “Let me make you feel better.” She glanced up and down the hall then went to her knees, loving the momentary incredulity on his face, which melted away into a reflection of her own half-crazed desire. Damn, it was hot to have a man want her so bad.

  She unzipped his jeans, releasing his cock from the denim. The possibility of getting caught ramped up her adrenaline even more. Impatiently, she took the hard length of him as deep down her throat as she could manage. He shuddered and grunted at her enthusiastic assault, bracing his forearms against the wall above her, caging her. Control only stayed hers briefly, and moments later he was face fucking her and making her gag on his cock.

  “What a good girl,” came a deep, thickly accented voice
.

  Fox made a sound of disgust. He pulled his cock from her mouth and tucked himself back in then rebuttoned his jeans. He yanked her to her feet in time for her to see Geir’s broad back disappearing down the hall.

  Damn.

  Well, he must have seen all sorts of things in these halls. Besides, it wasn’t her dick that had been out on display. She snickered.

  Fox gave her a dirty look then led her into their hotel room and shut the door behind them. The emphatic way he threw the deadbolt made her stomach flutter. He grabbed her shoulders, careful not to touch her tattoo, and pulled her close.

  “Did you like getting caught?” His voice was rough. He sounded like she felt.

  She hid her smile. “Why? Do you like that kind of thing?”

  “No,” he grumbled. “It just made me want to punch Geir in the face. I didn’t notice him until he spoke, but I think he was watching for a while. I guess we get what we deserve for not walking that extra few feet to our hotel room. The guys don’t live by the same rules we do.”

  “That’s rich, coming from a car thief.”

  He stared down at her possessively. “I’m never taking you to hang out in their dungeon.”

  “Fine by me.”

  The hotel room he’d led her into, when she bothered to look at it, was far larger than she would have imagined. Rather than being a standard, small bedroom with attached bath, it was the size of several normal hotel rooms, and boasted a large separate living area. The place had a rich antique feel that leaned toward gothic, with dark brocades and a lot of sturdy wrought iron. Beauty with a side of torture chamber. She couldn’t imagine being able to afford a room like this.

  For some reason, even though she knew Fox had money, she always forgot. Maybe it was because he treated money like it meant nothing to him. For Fox, the thrill of living seemed to mean more than accumulating things did. It put them on even footing. They understood each other.