by Roxie Rivera
“You are good for me.” I cupped his handsome face and nuzzled our mouths together. “You’re good to me.”
“I like being good to you.” His eyes turned dark as he growled, “But I like doing bad things with you.” He nipped at my lower lip. “Dirty things that make you blush.” He kissed my neck, and I shuddered. “Filthy things that make you so wet I feel like I might drown when I bury my face between your thighs.”
“Hagen,” I whispered, scandalized.
“Let’s take a shower.” His deep voice tumbled through me. “Then we’ll see what else I can do to make you blush that pretty again.”
I smiled as he drained the last of his beer and stepped over to the sink to rinse it before dropping it in the recycling container I had convinced him to use. He didn’t share my enthusiasm for eco-friendly living, but he had agreed to small changes here and there. I appreciated his willingness to try.
I hopped off the counter and held out my hand, silently beckoning him to follow me. He grasped my hand and followed closely as we made our way upstairs, turning off lights and tugging me toward the front door to check the security system. By the time we reached his bedroom, we were both grinning and breathing hard from stolen kisses as we raced upstairs.
I toed off my sneakers in the bedroom and removed my earrings and watch before I joined Hagen in his lavish bathroom. His entire house was beautifully modern with a calming palette of white and grey and black. The bathroom was no different with dove grey flooring, dark grey concrete countertops and blond wood accents. The oversized shower was tiled in grey and black with mosaic flooring.
Hagen emerged from the walk-in closet barefoot and without his watch or cuff links. He reached into the shower to turn on the water and I crossed the floor to join him. I plucked through the buttons on his shirt, pausing just long enough to let him drag the black hair tie from my wrist. I was too short to push the shirt from his shoulders so he shrugged out of it and peeled away his undershirt, throwing it aside.
When I started to unbuckle his belt, he combed his fingers through my hair, gathering it high into the loose bun he had learned I liked to wear in the shower. His big hands were always so gentle when he touched me. Sometimes, I would think back to our first encounter in that back room of his bar. I had been terrified of him. He was this hulking, arrogant loan shark who had my brother’s life in his hands. I had been afraid he would hurt me to get my brother to settle his debts, but he had offered me a trade—my body for the debt.
At first, I had been furious that he would offer something so degrading, but later, when I understood him better, I had realized he was afraid of me, afraid of what I thought of him, afraid that I would run and never look back. For all his infamy in the Houston underworld, he was reserved and quiet and preferred to blend into the background. He wasn’t flashy. He wasn’t loud. He was steadfast, deliberate. He never did anything without calculating the risks and outcomes.
I loved him for it. After losing my parents in a horrible car accident and almost losing my brother to his gambling addiction, I craved stability. I needed a partner I could trust to follow through on his promises. I needed a partner who understood the importance of my studies and what I wanted to do with my life. I had found that partner in the most unlikely way.
“Get this off,” he urged, his voice husky and low as he tugged on my shirt. Without waiting for me to do it, he grabbed the bottom of it and dragged it up and over my head. My bra hardly slowed him, and he quickly flicked through the hooks. I pushed down his slacks and boxer-briefs together, not at all surprised to see his stiff erection waiting for me. With a sheepish grin, he said, “Sorry.”
He swooped down and kissed me before I could answer. His hands were more insistent, rougher, as they tugged on my jeans and panties. He lifted me up, and I kicked them the rest of the way off before wrapping my legs around his waist. He moved effortlessly, carrying me into the spacious shower and right under the multiple sprays of soothing hot water. We kissed lazily, neither of us ready to let go just yet. I didn’t think I would ever get tired of being held by him, of having his powerful arms around me or his tender mouth on mine.
When he finally let me slide down to my feet, he stepped back under the nearest shower head. He scrubbed his fingers through his dark hair and reached for the bottle of shampoo on the high shelf. I enjoyed the sight of his muscled body moving, his strong hands and chiseled arms flexing as he worked his hair into a lather. The heat of the shower amplified the tea tree and lemon scents, and I breathed it in, happy to be so close to him again.
After he rinsed his hair, he grabbed his bar of soap and stalked toward me. His playful grin sent a frisson if excitement through me. The rich lather he worked between his hands felt like liquid silk against my skin as he swept his palms over my body. He seemed to always enjoy drawing out foreplay, to leave me aching and desperate for his touch. Tonight was no different.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed as his soapy fingers swept along my inner thigh. “I fucked my hand every night thinking of you.”
“Like this?” I grasped the hard length of him and stroked slowly.
He let loose a sound that was half laugh, half growl. “Just like that.”
His mouth teased across mine as I slid my hand up and down his shaft. I nipped at his bottom lip as I stroked him the way he liked best. His hands moved over my body, spreading suds and the wicked heat of anticipation.
“I have got to get a bench in here,” he groaned. “This height difference is killing us.”
“Sorry,” I murmured against his jaw. “I should have eaten more vegetables as a kid.”
He laughed and kissed me again before maneuvering me under the nearest shower head. When we were rinsed, he shut off the water and stepped out to grab a towel for me. Desperate to continue what we had started, I hurriedly toweled off and all but skipped into the bedroom. I climbed onto the bed, still warm from the shower, and waited for him.
He stalked toward me, and I rose up on my knees, reaching out for him. When I finally had my hands on his incredible body, I knew exactly what I wanted. Clutching his hips, I leaned forward and grazed my lips along the length of his cock. Looking up at him, I held his gaze as I moved my open mouth over the tip and sucked.
“Cassie,” he whispered. Shuddering, he groaned and thrust carefully. Like the rest of him, his cock was huge, and I still hadn’t mastered the ability to take all of him like this. He swore he didn’t care, but I couldn’t shake the worry that I wasn’t skilled enough.
His hands moved toward my hair, gently untangling the hair tie and combing his fingers through my slightly damp hair. He gathered my hair in his fist at the base of my head and tilted my head back just slightly. His nostrils flared as he pushed a little deeper. I held his dark gaze as he worked his cock in and out of my willing mouth.
Hands on his thighs, I balanced myself and let him take control. He wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t take advantage of my trust or try to force me to give him more. It was hard to explain, but the knowledge that I was safe in his hands, even in a situation like this, made me crave him even more.
“That’s enough,” he growled, dragging his cock free. His thumb wiped my lips before pushing between them. I sucked on it, drawing a deep groan from him. Bending down, he captured my mouth in a punishing kiss and grasped the backs of my thighs. In a smooth move, he lifted me off the bed and guided my legs around his waist. He was ruthless with his kisses, and I clung to him, arms around his shoulders as he left me breathless.
Without warning, he turned and dropped back onto the bed. I gasped at the sudden fall and then giggled against his neck. Draped on top of him, I straddled his hips and enjoyed being eye to eye with him for once. His gruff, rumbling laughter faded away as I dotted soft kisses along his jaw. The stubble on his skin was sure to leave me red but I didn’t care.
“I missed you so much,” I murmured against his jaw. Emboldened by the heat reflected in his eyes, I admitted,” You’
re not the only one who had to take matters into their own hands.”
Hagen’s hands tightened on my waist. “Poor baby,” he said, his hand sliding down to cup my bottom. “Left alone and neglected.” His other hand moved to the back of my upper thigh. “Get up here and let me apologize.”
“Hagen!” I cried out in shock as he hauled me up his body. He didn’t stop until my knees were on either side of his head. Scandalized by the idea of sitting on his face, I tried to wiggle away. “I can’t.”
“Stop.” He nipped my inner thigh. “Relax.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I grumbled, embarrassed and unable to meet his gaze.
“Of course it is,” he replied before nibbling on my other thigh. “I’m about to put my tongue in my favorite place.”
Knowing he wouldn’t be swayed and desperately wanting to feel his mouth on me, I closed my eyes and slid down onto him. He groaned happily and held tight to my thighs, pulling me forward and right onto his mouth. At the first touch of his tongue, all of my insecurities and inhibitions fled.
I dropped forward, palms against the mattress, and widened my thighs, tucking my calves under his shoulders to anchor myself. His enthusiastic licking did crazy things to me. My toes curled and I clawed at the bed as his tongue swirled and flicked, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
When one and then two of his thick fingers slipped into my slick heat, I gasped. I sat up straighter, every muscle taut as his mouth and hand did wicked things to me. Unable to help myself, I swiveled my hips against him, drawing out the pressure and pleasure. Staring down at him, seeing his face between thighs, sent me careening off the ledge.
“Hagen!” Coming so hard I saw stars, I surrendered to the wild feelings his mouth evoked. He gripped my thighs so tightly, holding me in place while his tongue lashed me, that I knew I would have fingertip bruises in the morning. The very thought of being marked by him only made me moan louder.
When it was over, I slumped forward, panting and shuddering as he licked and suckled me through the aftershocks of pleasure. He kissed my thighs and rubbed my lower back, easing me down in that loving way of his. Limp from my orgasm, I fell onto my side, reaching for him and silently begging him to fuck me.
Hagen followed my wordless plea, pushing up onto his knees and grabbing me by the waist. He hauled me in front of him, canting my hips up and pushing my thighs apart so he could slot himself into me. My forehead dropped down to the bed, and I pushed back toward him, wanting him inside me. “Please.”
“You want my cock?” He teased me with it, dragging it down the wetness and rubbing the head of it against my extremely sensitive clit. “Take it,” he ordered. “Take my dick and show me where you want it.”
Breathing hard, I reached back between my legs and grasped the hard length of him. I could feel the heated pulse as I guided him into me, pushing back against his huge cock until it was inside me. “Here. I want you here.”
He groaned and gripped my waist, taking control. He was agonizingly gentle. His thrusts were slow and shallow. He eased his way deeper into me, his shaft gliding in my wetness until he was buried as far as he could go. There was a moment of delicious discomfort, the heady mix of pleasure heightened by that hint of pain. When he retreated, the slide of his cock made me shiver, and I clutched at the duvet, fisting it tightly as he started to move.
His rhythm increased, and I rocked on my knees, taking all he had to give. Hagen kept one hand on my waist and the other grabbed a handful of my hair, drawing my chin up and my back straight. The angle of his thrusting felt incredible, and the endless moans escaping my throat told him exactly that. I wasn’t close to another orgasm, but it didn’t matter. I enjoyed making him feel good more than chasing another climax.
He shifted behind me and planted his foot next to my elbow. He let go of my hair and took hold of my shoulder. The force of his thrusts increased, and I reached out to grab his foot, desperate for something to hold onto as he fucked me like a wild man.
But his next stroke went too far. Too deep. Too hard. Too fast. I gasped, shocked at the bright surge of pain, and he instantly stopped. Carefully, he withdrew and turned me over, his huge hands cradling my hip and my upper back. He gazed down at me with such concern that it made my heart ache. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You didn’t sound fine,” he insisted, his voice laced with worry. “I have to be more careful with you.”
“Hagen,” I whispered and stroked his jaw, “you are always careful with me. Weird things happen during sex. You stopped without having to be asked. That’s all that matters.”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, even though he didn’t need to say the words.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I murmured and slowly wrapped my legs around his waist. With my heels against his ass, I drew him forward. “Come back to me.”
He swallowed hard. “You sure?”
I reached between our bodies and grasped the stiff length of him. Holding his gaze, I pressed him into my slick heat. “I’m sure.”
“Fuck,” he growled and rocked into me. “This okay?”
“Yes,” I said, head thrown back as I felt his body rubbing mine in all the right ways. I clung to his shoulders as he made love to me, his pace steady and true. “Hagen.”
He buried his face against me, nipping and kissing my neck before claiming my mouth. When his hand slid down to cup my bottom, lifting it higher and giving him the perfect angle, I cried out in pleasure. He smiled triumphantly and used his considerable strength to manhandle me right where he wanted me. “Rub your clit, Cassie. I want to feel you squeeze me when I come.”
His filthy instruction sent a ripple of white-hot excitement right through me. I slid my hand down my belly to where our bodies were joined. I was so wet, making an absolute mess of both of us, and my fingertips slid easily over my sensitive clitoris. It didn’t take much to get there. A few insistent, steady circles, and I shattered, keening loudly and rearing up into him, my thighs tightening around his waist as he thrust into me over and over until he groaned and shuddered.
“Fuck, I love you.” His declaration came out on a panted breath. He kissed me then, his mouth languid and soft as he pulsed inside me. He pulled back a few inches and brushed the damp hair from my face. “I love you, Cassie.”
“I love you, John.” I didn’t use his first name often, keeping it for those special or important moments between us. He smiled tenderly and kissed me one last time before withdrawing and dramatically falling onto the bed next to me. Wordlessly, he dragged me closer and kept me in his arms as we enjoyed the warm, hazy afterglow.
I wasn’t sure which one of us fell asleep first. When I came to later, I glanced at the bedside clock and saw that it was after midnight. Grimacing at the wet mess between my thighs, I carefully disentangled myself from his arms and practically ran to the bathroom. After I tidied up, I picked up the trail of clothing that started by the doorway and ended in the bathroom. I pulled our phones from the pockets of our pants and carried them back to the bedroom when I was done throwing our clothes in the hamper and hanging our towels on their hooks.
My phone was almost dead, and his battery indicator was yellow. I carried them to the charging station on his side of the bed and plugged the annoying little cords into place. I scrolled down my phone’s screen to see if I had missed anything important. The Instagram posts on Taylor’s private account were amusing, and I had a feeling she would be sleeping off one hell of a hangover tomorrow.
As I put my phone down next to Hagen’s, his screen lit up with a message. I wasn’t trying to snoop, not really, but the name on the message—Amber—caught my eye. Her number’s area code was familiar. I had been doing so much research on California, especially CalTech and Stanford, to recognize a San Francisco area code when I saw one.
My heart pounded in my throat as I read the flirty message. I had to reread it four times to be sure I wasn’t misunderstanding it.
Overcome with the fear, I glanced at Hagen’s sleeping form. What, exactly, had happened during his trip? He had seemed so open and honest during our conversation over dinner that I couldn’t believe he had been lying or holding back details.
I put his phone down and climbed back into bed. My stomach was a mess of knots as my insecurities took hold. The what-ifs tormented me, and I started to doubt myself and everything I believed to be true.
Hagen’s big hand settled onto my hip, and he dragged me across the space between us, pulling my back against his chest. He nuzzled into my neck and draped his arm across my waist. His sleepy kisses soothed my fears. Hagen wouldn’t cheat on me. He wasn’t that kind of man.
Was he?
Chapter Three
“My head is killing me,” Taylor whined pitifully.
“Well, stop harassing me on the phone, and go to bed early,” I suggested while throwing my wet clothes into the dryer. “Or call that paramedic you used to date and see if he has any bags of saline squirreled away in his apartment.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Taylor replied, her voice lifting hopefully. “I bet he could hook me up with some hydration therapy.” She paused. “Ugh. But he’ll probably want me to blow him or something gross like that.”
I snorted and dropped quarters into the slots for the dryer. “That’s quite a quandary you face.”
She sighed. “Fuck it. I’m calling him.”
“Be safe,” I urged.
“Always!”
Shaking my head at her antics, I tucked my phone into the thigh pocket of my leggings and put my other load of laundry into the washer. There were four other sets of washers and dryers in the community laundry room, but I tried to only use one set, even if I had more than one load and it meant double the time. With all the single moms and families in the complex, I had more flexibility on doing my laundry and didn’t want to be that selfish ass keeping a tired mom from getting her chores finished.
