Dirty Ties

by Pam Godwin

  Copyright © 2014 by Pam Godwin

  All rights reserved.

  Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing

  Editor: Jacy Mackin

  Cover model: Tony Arreguin

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review or article, without written permission from the author.

  Visit my website at pamgodwin.com

  The ache between my legs throbbed, intensely and obsessively. Sometimes I didn’t think about him for hours, not the fluidity of his leather-wrapped body crouched on his sportbike or the strength of his hands around the grips. Often, I went an entire day without mentally tracing the muscle definition in his shoulders and thighs, imagining the flex of his ass, the thrust of his hips.

  Today hadn’t been one of those days.

  I’d tried to confine my thoughts to merger proposals, senior staffing issues, and all the other initiatives that demanded attention under my leadership. But he was always present, fighting and twisting and charging into my mind, riding on his steel horse, and carrying my body beyond the edge of restless desire.

  A man I’d never met.

  Gah! Where was my damned dignity? I shut down the tablet displaying the new photos of him and returned it to my leather satchel. Who would’ve thought Chicago’s favorite criminal would be spotted at a grocery store? Somehow, it made him more human. The media seemed to agree, buzzing excitedly about his public appearance on local television and papers. I didn’t like that, didn’t like sharing him with four million women.

  Outside the windows of the company car, the mammoth columns and well-lit awning of the Trump Tower drew closer. I shoved my aching feet into the heels, the phone pinned between my ear and shoulder. “When these pictures were snapped, was he caught off guard?” My insides fluttered with foolish hope. “Anyone see his face before he got away?”

  The ruffle of papers scraped through the speaker, followed by my personal assistant’s husky, feminine voice. “Nope. He never removed the helmet.”

  Always masked, much to my despair, as well as every woman, journalist, and cop in Chicago. Everyone wanted a piece of him.

  Thanks to online gambling, the web of criminals profiting from the underground racing syndicate enticed corruption from all over the world—investors, mobsters, and racers alike—turning my Chicago into a hub of dirty money. And at the forefront of this underworld was the undefeated racer himself.

  Maybe it was his anonymity that held the city so captivated. Or the inexplicable way he invited death at 185 mph on narrow, potholed streets. Two years ago, one of the reporters at my company had coined him Evader, and the moniker stuck. Should’ve been Invader, given his persistent intrusion into my fantasies and the subsequent wet spot cooling in my panties.

  I squeezed my thighs together. A rough fuck from one of my husband’s hired playmates would be the second best way to spend the evening. The first being entwined with the notorious sportbike racer while straddling the vibrations of his inline-four engine.

  The town car rolled to a stop, and I smoothed the skirt over my knees. “Did you send me the latest file?”

  My standing order to receive those encrypted files was almost as risky as my appearances at Evader’s dangerous venues. But Jenna couldn’t open the files without the private key. She had no idea they contained the details for upcoming illegal races, information the police and media would love to get their hands on.

  The file I was waiting on tonight held the map for the race that was starting in a few hours.

  “Yes, Mrs. Baskel. Anything else?”

  “That’ll be all.” I dropped the phone in my purse and grabbed the satchel.

  The chauffeur opened my door. The din of honking and shouting carried me out, capturing me in the energy of the city. I vibrated with the rush of sensations, the scent of asphalt, the warm press of the evening wind, and the buzz of passing pedestrians, their voices rich in layered accents. At seven o’clock on a Thursday, the nightlife crush had just begun.

  I strode the few paces to the dedicated entrance for residents of the Trump Tower, my heart beating with the pulse of traffic. Glass walls of modern architecture towered above, glimmering with the reflection of city lights. Behind those walls, people just like me accumulated millions of dollars through hard work, innovation, marriages…and lies.

  While my own marriage was forged in deception, the heart of it resided in a deep friendship, nurtured by our families since birth. A smile twitched my cheeks. The stunning Italian genes Collin Anderson inherited from his mother were an added bonus.

  My smile faded. Too bad the sexual chemistry was all wrong. It might’ve been the perfect marriage.

  The breeze curled around my bare legs beneath the stiff skirt. Despite the toe-squeezing heels, it would’ve been a beautiful night to walk the four blocks from the Trenchant Media building. A beautiful night for a race.

  Every cell in my body sizzled with anticipation. In just a few hours, I would be waiting at the finish line, straining for a stolen glimpse of him.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Baskel.” The attendant swept ahead of my brisk walk and held the exterior door open with a decorous stance, his attentive gaze awaiting my direction should I need anything.

  My executive position at Trenchant Media, my renowned husband, and our moneyed lifestyle commanded superior service from staff and colleagues. But beneath the tailored power-suit and affluent family, I was a woman like any other with a need for acceptance, a connection to cling to, a passion to balance out the monotony. “Evening, Jimmy. Has Mr. Anderson received any visitors this evening?”

  “Yes, ma’am. A young man arrived forty-five minutes ago.”

  Oh hell, yes. “Thank you.” I shaped my mouth into a flat line to hide a giddy smile and quickened my gait through the marble foyer. In the elevator, the silver-haired attendant pressed the button for the eighty-eighth floor. A minute later, I strode into the foyer of the condo, pulling the pins from my hair and freeing the unruly blonde mess.

  The hall on the left led to my suite, and the one on the right would take me to Collin’s rooms. But I continued to the front like I did every night, magnetized to the wall of windows and its views of the lake, the river, the bridges, and the twinkling cityscape.

  Dropping the satchel and purse on the suede armchair, I veered to the wet bar and poured a dirty martini, extra dirty.

  The first sip awoke my throat and warmed my blood, instantly relaxing the twelve hours of tension that had accumulated at work. Pinpricks bit through the arches of my feet, but the heels would stay on a little longer. I needed the seduction of those five extra inches for whatever awaited in Collin’s bedroom.

  Lost to the glow of lights flickering eighty-eight stories below, I finished the martini, poured another, and removed the suit jacket. Drink in hand, I entered Collin’s hall, hoping to catch him in a deliciously compromising position.

  Strained grunts greeted me at the cracked door. I nudged it open with the toe of my shoe and leaned against the doorframe to absorb the sensual landscape.

  The bed sat perpendicular to the door at the far side of the room. Collin lay on his back, lengthwise on the mattress, his legs dangling off the end. The cords in his neck stretched, every gorgeous inch of him bare. His fingers threaded through the dark hair of the familiar head bobbing between his spread thighs. Seth knelt on the floor, one hand kneading Collin’s balls, the other pinching and twisting his dark nipple.

  My skin heated from the inside out, and my mouth moistene
d. God, I loved watching Collin in the throes of pleasure. He gave so much of himself to his demanding job and family. It was liberating to see him take something for himself.

  He rolled his hips, his trim body trembling, and his eyes caught mine. “Kaci.” His fingers curled on the bed in a come-hither motion.

  All of his lovers were bisexual, and this one was a regular. Perhaps too regular. Seth wasn’t one of the hired escorts from the discreet service Collin used. He’d met this particular lover at a photo shoot, and while the dark-haired photographer had always tolerated me, his affections centered one-hundred percent on Collin. Like now.

  “Fuck.” Collin groaned. “The man knows how to give head.”

  Yeah, yeah, I’d heard it for years. Supposedly, a woman couldn’t rival the sucking power of a man’s lips. I set the martini on the dresser and sashayed toward the bed. “I do, too.” Collin knew this, not because his cock had ever breached my lips, but because he’d been watching me blow guys since we were fifteen.

  “Show him.” Collin’s long fingers tightened in Seth’s hair, yanking the man off him.

  Seth had fucked me a few times—my ass, my cunt, but not yet my mouth. He climbed to his feet and licked his lips. So blatant in the focus of his lust, he didn’t spare me a glance. His gaze remained locked on Collin’s erection as he shoved his briefs to his feet and kicked them away.

  Seth might’ve preferred Collin, but he never seemed repulsed by my participation. Good thing, because Collin was my husband, and our unconventional marriage required a middle man. If Seth entertained any misgivings about his role in our relationship, I wouldn’t have to show him the door. Collin would do it for me.

  I approached the bed and unbuttoned my blouse. “Maybe he’s intimidated by my tongue.” I addressed my husband, but caught Seth’s chocolate gaze in challenge.

  Collin huffed. “Hell, I’m intimidated by your tongue.”

  Seth shifted from foot to foot, glancing between us and chewing the inside of his cheek. Somewhat boyish in his attractiveness, his appeal was most notable in his dark, brooding eyebrows and pouty lips. His lean physique matched Collin’s. A runner’s build, slim on muscle, but his long legs and soaring height gave him the illusion of strength.

  Seth studied me for a weighted moment with a maddening mix of heat and hesitancy stewing in his eyes. What was he thinking? I held my breath and his gaze.

  He blinked, gripped the back of my neck, and shoved his tongue past my teeth.

  Alrighty then. A bit forced, but I welcomed the roughness, meeting his tongue thrust for thrust. His lips mashed aggressively against mine, his fingers digging into my neck. His other hand caught my laced-covered breast, squeezing with the same bruising pressure as his kiss. I liked it, perhaps a little too much.

  I reached for his erection, and my hand bumped into Collin’s fingers where he was unrolling a condom over Seth’s rigid girth. The need thrumming from their shallow breaths fueled mine. In a few moments, I would be writhing beneath all their sweaty, aroused flesh. The anticipation spurred me to bite Seth’s lips and grind against his hard-on while imagining a different body, a stronger, more powerful one encased in racing leathers.

  Collin yanked his hand away before my groin made contact with his fingers. I laughed, breaking the kiss with a shiver. “Pussy.”

  “Skank.” The look he gave me was as deep-rooted as our friendship, one that bore the same private smile and mischievous eyes from our childhood amidst dismal dinner parties and stuffy classrooms.

  With a grace bred into every genteel fiber of his body, he rose to his feet. His expression, however, was anything but formal as he devoured the quivering movements of Seth’s torso with his eyes at half-mast. “He’s all yours.”

  Silly man. As long as he was in the room, his lover would never be all mine. I lowered to my knees, wrapped anxious fingers around Seth’s engorged cock, and licked the tip.

  Just like that, my brain rushed through the images of the man who plagued me. He would have a thicker cock, perhaps uncut with veins pulsing beneath my fingertips. A hard, formidable mystery, a man who fought things that were deadlier, fiercer, and more uncivilized than anything in this room. For years, I’d stood alone, toe-to-toe against powerful men. How I wished to have an invincible man on my side.

  As Seth pushed into my mouth, the funky taste of latex assaulted my tastebuds. I breathed through it. Either this or Oral HPV. No deliberation there, given the extensive number of partners we shared.

  I fondled and sucked until the tang of rubber faded. Hollowing my cheeks, I worshiped him with hard pulls and a flicking tongue while pumping a fist at the base. Collin ground his own wrapped cock against Seth’s hip, inches from my face. So damned tempting to curl my fingers around it and make him yelp.

  His hands swept the other man’s chest, abs, and ass in urgent strokes, their tongues battling together in an open-mouth fusion of masculine arousal.

  Their combined musk charged my inhales, spurring me to suck faster, harder, until a visible tremor rippled through Seth’s legs. He spread out his feet, revealing Collin’s fingers thrusting in and out of his ass. Seth wouldn’t last long.

  I stood, wobbly on the heels, and unzipped the skirt. It fell to the floor. My blouse and panties followed. As I reached behind and unclasped the bra, Collin released Seth’s lips with a teasing lick and nodded toward the bed.

  My nipples peaked against the chill in the air, or perhaps at the sensual sight of Collin stroking Seth’s dick. His strokes stopped with a tight grip, and his gray-blue eyes caught mine.

  Christ, Collin was breathtaking. Midnight-black hair, damp from a recent shower, combed back in perfect, short waves. The slender bone structure of his face suited his refined public image, but his blunt, square chin better fit the man I knew privately.

  A dimple appeared in his cheek. “You ready for him?”

  Not ‘Are you wet?’ Poor guy refused to acknowledge the mechanics of a cunt, which made teasing him oh-so diabolical. “I’m dripping, throbbing, gaping—”

  “All right. Enough.” His tone was clipped, but the creases fanning from his bright eyes gentled his regal features. “Get your soft little ass on the bed.”

  “Always with the soft shit. Maybe I should shoot up testosterone and grow a beard.” We shared a smirk, and he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, shaking his head. Then I glanced at Seth. “What do you think? Is my body too soft?” Was I fishing for compliments? Maybe. But I never had to question our other partners, their ardor distributed equally between Collin and me.

  Because the others were paid to pleasure both of us. I shoved that thought away.

  Seth seemed to be struggling to focus on anything beyond Collin’s fingers fondling his dick. He jerked his hips and gasped. “Yeah.”

  Yeah? Bastard wasn’t even paying attention.

  Collin let go of him and stepped back with his hands on his narrow hips. Assessment narrowed his eyes. Protectiveness dominated his statue-like posture. Of course, he’d teased me my entire life, but one disrespectful twitch from Seth and the night would be over.

  Seth snapped his head up, his eyes darting between us. “No. I mean…” He made a show of ogling me from tits to heels. “You’re soft in all the right places, Mrs. Baskel.”

  I bristled at the inflection he’d put on my maiden name. “Baskel is my identity.” I’d kept my name so I wouldn’t just be the wife of the famous Collin Anderson. “Doesn’t make us less married.”

  Collin rubbed his chin, his thumb moving over the deep cleft there, his disapproval clear in the juts of his sharp cheekbones. He lowered his hand. “Do you have a problem with this arrangement, Seth?”

  A flinch lifted Seth’s shoulders. “No. Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” His arms hung at his sides, and his head descended toward his chest.

  Way to go, Kaci. I climbed onto the bed and rolled to my back, propping up on my elbows. “It’s fine.” I raised a leg and rested the spike of the heel on Seth’s thigh, nudging him.
“I didn’t kill the mood, did I?”

  A moment of hesitation stifled the air. I met Collin’s eyes and waited for him to ask for a night alone with his lover. But he wanted me there in his fucked up way. I could count on one hand the number of times he’d had sex without my participation. He sought my presence as a tangible form of approval, his own acceptance of his sexuality hanging on the intolerant opinions of his political party.

  He glanced at Seth’s hard-on, which jerked under his heated gaze. “Do you want to fuck my wife?”

  “Yes.” A thick inhale sharpened his answer. He gripped my ankle and used it to widen my legs, his other hand cupping the back of my opposite knee.

  When his lips touched my inner thigh, I melted into the mattress and cupped my breasts, rolling the sensitive nipples between my fingers. His mouth trailed a warm path to the apex of my legs. Keep going. My thighs trembled, and the steel ring piercing my clit added pressure to the needy pulsations.

  At the last inch, he swerved to the side, over my hipbone, and along my ribs.

  I ground my teeth, but I refused to lower myself to demanding things he wasn’t inclined to do.

  His mouth moved up my body, and he brushed my hand from my tit to bite down on the nipple. Sharp, chilling pain shot through me, sparking a spasm along my inner muscles.

  “Ahhh.” My gasps cut off when Seth captured my mouth.

  The quick, assertive kiss slid away as his lips tickled over my cheek and his cock pressed against my opening. The back of Collin’s hand brushed my inner thigh, his fingers sliding up and down Seth’s length.

  God, I was so wet, so damned ready. He could slip right in, and in the span of a shuddering breath, he did. His thickness filled me with a burst of body-tingling pleasure. I searched his flushed face, and he seemed to be as aroused as I was, given the parted lips, stuttering breaths, and shiny eyes holding mine.

  His intensity heated when a bottle of lube landed on the mattress. He thrust frantically at the sight of it, his gaze falling away to catch a glimpse of the man behind him.

  I stretched to meet Collin’s eyes, slipping my hands over his to help him spread the hard muscles of Seth’s ass.