Dirty News (Dirty Network Book 1)

by Michelle Love

  Tentatively, she snaked her hand down to his fly, unzipping his pants and sliding her hand in, feeling his cock harden against her hand. God, he was huge…

  He was pushing up her skirt then tearing at her underwear, and Noosh felt a desperate need to have him inside her. Her lover rolled a condom quickly down the length of his ram-rod hard cock and then, with a confident thrust, he entered her.

  Noosh gave a shaky gasp as they began to fuck, clawing at each other, kissing as if they wanted to devour each other. He pressed her up against the wall and took her, his arms easily holding her up, his cock driving deeper and deeper into her with every stroke. His eyes never left hers.

  Noosh moaned as he thrust harder, deeper, and for the first time she saw in his eyes anger, rage, and something else…pain. She kissed him fiercely, wanting to take that pain – whatever it was – away.

  But then her eyes were rolling back in her head, and she cried out as her orgasm hit her hard. His free hand was stroking her clit, his mouth on hers…he knew exactly what he was doing.

  With a groan he came too, and they tumbled to the floor. Noosh caught her breath, enjoying the feel of his weight on her. After a moment he sat up, breathing hard. Noosh pulled her dress up and sat by him.

  After a long moment, when she thought he would never say anything, he turned to her. God, he was so beautiful… As he opened his mouth to speak, Noosh couldn’t help but touch his face. It seemed to take him by surprise. She cupped his cheek in her hand, stroking her thumb gently over his skin, taking in every detail of his face. If she never saw him again, she wanted to remember everything.

  The atmosphere changed between them then. No longer did he look like a glowering, dangerously sexual man, but someone vulnerable, tired…sad. He closed his eyes as she stroked his face, leaning into her touch.

  Then he pulled away, pain creasing his handsome face. “Don’t.”

  Stung, Noosh withdrew her hand. “I’m sorry, it’s just…”

  “We’re here to fuck. Fucking is all I do now.”

  His voice was hard, and he no longer looked at her.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Jesus.” He hissed out the word. “Look, I’m not into schooling newbies. I come here to fuck and be fucked, not to deal with some virgin.”

  He got up and Noosh scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding. How had things turned so quickly? “I’m no virgin,” she managed to say, her voice only slightly shaking.

  She glanced around the room and saw a cabinet of paddles, ropes, leather crops, and other toys. She swallowed hard and looked back at him. He was watching her again, glowering from beneath his long, thick lashes. She lifted her chin and deliberately dropped the shoulder straps of her dress, exposing her breasts. “Fuck me again and I’ll show you just how far from a virgin I really am.”

  “No.”

  God, that hurt. She wouldn’t beg this man, this glorious man, whose pain she could see etched across his gorgeous face. But she didn’t want the memory of their coupling sullied by this…whatever this was. What had she done wrong? She pulled the straps of her dress up, taking a deep breath in. She stepped towards him, saw he didn’t back away. “What is it?” She asked him gently. “Why are you in so much pain?”

  “I think you should go. You don’t belong here.”

  “Neither do you.”

  He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re talking about. Please, just go.”

  With her thighs still aching from the fucking her gave her, Noosh stood her ground. No. She would not walk away. There had been something here, something worth exploring. She knew he felt it too.

  Her lover shook his head. “Get out. Please, just go, I can’t bear this.”

  Her heart gave a sickening lurch. “No. I won’t go.”

  “Please.”

  She stepped forward and reached out to him, but he backed away, his hands curling into tight fists by his side. “Get out…now. While you still can.”

  A thrill of danger went through her. “No.”

  A silence, then he stalked across the room and dragged her to the door. Noosh laid her hands on his chest as she put her back against the door. “No, you don’t get to throw me away like that. Not after that… That was incredible…”

  He closed his eyes. “Please, I’m begging you. Go. Go.”

  “But…”

  “Go!”

  The ferocity of the roar coming from this man, this dangerous man who towered above her, finally broke her resolve. Noosh fumbled for the door handle and opened the door, skittering down the hallway, hearing him slam the door behind her. She raced through the club, not bothering to look at anything else as she took the stairs to the doorway.

  It was only when she stepped – barefoot – out onto the streets of New York City that she realized she was crying.

  The man sat in the car parked opposite the club and smiled to himself. He wondered if he should go over, say hello, help her get home…but that wasn’t why he was here. He had been tasked with finding Anoushka Taylor, and after a tip, he had finally found where she lived. He had to confirm the address was right before he contacted the boss, however, and after seeing her at the club, he’d followed her here. Who knew the girl was into kink? It made his dick hard to think of her like that, but now, seeing her in tears, he realized she must be new to the scene.

  He snickered to himself and pulled out his cell phone. Destry Papps answered on the first ring.

  The man in the car watched Anoushka Taylor hail a cab and smiled into the phone. “Yeah, it’s me. I found her.”

  Chapter Four

  After she’d gone, Christo slumped to the floor, breathing deeply. God, what had he become? Screaming at that girl, that sweet, kind, beautiful girl? And yet, it was her sweetness that had made him react like that. He didn’t deserve her. The way she had touched his face, the way she had seen him…

  “Fuck. Fuck.” He cursed quietly, his head in his hands. Go after her, apologize, beg her to come back. But he knew he couldn’t. The moment he saw her earlier, something had twisted inside him. She was so lovely, her big brown eyes warm and kind, and she looked so lost. He’d wanted to take her in his arms, protect her from the seediness around them, but as soon as he kissed her, something animal had taken over. Making love to her was exhilarating – her voluptuous body curving against his, his cock driving deep into her velvety cunt…it had been an awakening to him. He’d never felt that way with any woman…and it terrified him.

  He tried to stop the sobs that were constricting his chest, but they burst out anyway. What the fuck was happening to him? Bertie was right; he’d gotten what he wanted – away from his father. So why was he so goddamn miserable?

  He let himself cry it out then snagged his phone from his pocket and dialed Bertie. When his friend answered, he just said “Rock bottom.”

  Bertie understood immediately. “Where are you?”

  Christo told him, and Bertie told him to stay there. “I’m coming to get you.”

  In an hour, Christo was on a plane to Arizona where Bertie booked him into rehab.

  Noosh buried herself in her work after that strange, wonderful, terrible night. She’d told Allison she was dropping the story about the BDSM clubs, and although Allison had questioned her about what had happened, Noosh kept it to herself. She felt wrecked by the experience, but at the same time, she couldn’t stop thinking about her mercurial lover. Who was he? In moments of weakness, she closed her eyes and remembered the feel of his hands on her body, his mouth against hers, his cock thrusting deep inside her. She shivered, the pleasure all still too real for her. But then afterward…

  Stop thinking about him, she told herself now. It’s been a month. You’ll never see him again. She dragged her attention back to the meeting. They were brainstorming ideas for the next year’s stories and so far, Noosh hadn’t heard a thing.

  She blinked and focused on what Allison was saying. “Something I was thinking abou
t was the next generation of New York’s crime families. A lot of them are eschewing the old life and branching out on their own with legitimate businesses. I’ve heard the reaction from the old timers has been…mixed, to say the least. I’d like to focus in on three or four of the heirs who have broken free.”

  “Any ideas on who and how?” Seth, one of the station’s head honchos, looked interested.

  Allison nodded, her grey eyes serious. “A four-part series. I interview each of them, ask them the hard questions about how they feel about their family mob connections and why they chose to break free. Hang on, I have a list here.” She dug around in her notebook. “Richard Viera, Dominick Octavo, Christofalo Montecito, and Helena De Vito. Those are the names I came up with through very basic research.”

  Seth nodded, and Noosh wrote down the names, glad of something else to concentrate on. “I like your thinking, Ally,” Seth said and nodded at Noosh. “You’ll work together with Allison on this?”

  Noosh smiled gratefully. “Love to.”

  Allison winked at her. “And then, we can’t ignore that it’s election year next year. With any luck, we’ll get the candidates in for an interview.”

  “Will they want to be associated with such a cutting-edge show as yours?” Felix, a snide show runner who loathed Allison and her talent, interjected, but Seth waved his hand.

  “We’ll get the ones who have enough guts, the ones who willingly go on Colbert. They’re the ones we want. Harper, Seagram, Papps – they’re the ones we want – or don’t want, in the case of some of them.”

  “Destry Papps would be a get.” Allison conceded, and Noosh’s heart sank. God, no. She knew instantly she’d be calling in sick the day Destry came into the station. She found that her fingernails were digging into her palm, leaving deep welts, and flexed her fingers.

  After the meeting, she hunkered back down in her cubicle and worked her way through the paperwork, immersing herself in admin work. It was only when Allison came by her desk that she looked at the clock and realized it was past eight p.m.

  “Hey, kiddo, time you went home. But before you do, I’ve been thinking. You know, this mob-heir thing – this could be the thing you take the lead on, and I’ll tell you why it could be interesting. You’re not from New York or even the States. Your perspective as an outsider could be the thing that makes them open up to you. What do you say?”

  Noosh gaped at her boss. To be asked to lead such a huge story was incredible. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes,” Allison grinned, then her smile faded. “Noosh, you deserve this, and there’s something else... I don’t know what happened to you at that club, but I know something did, and I feel bad. I encouraged you to go, and whatever happened – “

  “Whatever happened, happened,” Noosh interrupted her. “It’s not your fault.”

  There was a long silence. “Who was he?”

  Noosh struggled for a moment to find the words, and decided the truth was the only way to go. “The most incredible man I’ve ever met. And the most damaged. Not a good combination.”

  Allison patted her shoulder. “I’m sorry, honey. I’ve known men like that. They’re instantly addictive, like sugar or heroin, but so, so bad for you.”

  Noosh nodded but looked away from her boss’s gaze. “I agree.”

  “Anyway, sweetheart, go home and we’ll talk more about this in the morning. The mob stories, I mean, although you know you can talk to me about anything.”

  Noosh smiled at her. “I know. Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  On the subway home, Noosh indulged in another fantasy about her mysterious lover, imagining him turning up at her apartment door, begging for her forgiveness. Would she make him beg? Noosh smirked to herself. Probably not – one look at those green eyes of his and she would cave. Pathetic, she told herself, but still visualized pulling him into her apartment, tearing off his clothes and fucking him until they were both exhausted.

  At home, she took a long soak in the bathtub, indulging the fantasy some more, her hand between her legs, caressing her clit, imagining it was his tongue on her. She shivered through a mellow orgasm before pushing thoughts of him away.

  Maybe some people were just meant to be experienced once in a lifetime, she told herself, as she pulled the comforter over her shoulders and settled down to watch the television.

  Noosh never knew what woke her. Whether it was the sound of the television, which was still on, or the sense of someone being in the room with her. Noosh opened her eyes and froze. A dark figure was standing next to her sofa bed. She barely had time to try and make out his or her features before whoever it was shot her, the flash of the muzzle lighting up the room as he pumped three bullets into Noosh’s belly, the sound muffled by a silencer.

  Noosh gasped, stunned. The pain hit her full force she knew one thing for sure as she lay bleeding out.

  Destry had found her.

  Chapter Five

  Six months later…

  The physiotherapist gave her a long stare. “Noosh, you’re pushing yourself too hard. I told you this would take time.”

  Noosh, balancing herself between the bars, shook her head. “Doc, it’s been too long. I’m going stir-crazy in this hospital. I want to go back to work.”

  The doctor, a tired-looking woman in her thirties named Beth, rolled her eyes. “And don’t think I don’t know you’ve been working from your room. Rest is anathema to you, isn’t it?”

  “I had plenty of rest when I was brought in.” Noosh propelled herself painfully along the treadmill. One good thing about having a bullet in the spine, it sure helped your upper body strength when you tried to learn to walk again, she thought, as she puffed her way along the walkway.

  “For the record, a coma isn’t rest, Noosh. Come on, that’s it for today.” Beth helped Noosh back into her chair. Noosh gave a frustrated sigh.

  “Come on, Beth, do a girl a solid and let me out of here.”

  Beth couldn’t help but grin. “Just so you know, that expression coming from your English mouth sounds weird. And, okay then.”

  Noosh was already geared up for an argument, so Beth’s agreement took her by surprise. “Really?”

  “Really.” Beth nevertheless insisted on wheeling Noosh back to her room. “Tomorrow, and I mean it. Get some sleep tonight, and if your stats are good in the morning, you can go home. I’m not happy about you being alone, though.”

  “I won’t be alone, for the most part.”

  Noosh’s parents had been flown over by the radio station after Noosh had been shot, but when it had been clear their daughter would survive, they’d had to return to their lives in London, albeit Skyping Noosh every day. Allison, shaken to her core by the attempted murder, had sworn to them that she would take care of Noosh, and had insisted Noosh move in with her in her Upper East Side apartment.

  “With security,” she’d emphasized when Noosh protested, and Noosh couldn’t argue. The man – she presumed it was a man – who had shot her was still out there, and the police had no leads. Noosh hadn’t told them of her suspicions – that Senator Destry Papps, candidate for the office of the President of the United States, was the one who had shot her mercilessly. Who the hell would believe that? Her mother and father had looked at her with pain in their eyes, and she knew they guessed the same. Would Destry try again?

  Noosh hoped against hope that by not revealing him now, he would understand she wouldn’t go the press about him at all, but she knew that was a naïve hope. So the promise of being secure, at least at home, was appealing.

  Allison had been to see her every day, and Noosh knew from the topics of conversation on her radio show that the shooting had affected her usually unflappable boss to the core. Allison had persuaded the station to run an anti-firearms campaign, and by sharing Noosh’s – or rather, ‘Sarah’s’ – story with her listeners, Allison had managed to both bring awareness to the subject and, Noosh hoped, to broadcast to the assailant that she was now go
ing to be protected.

  Noosh knew Destry had heard the program because the day after, a huge bouquet of red roses had arrived for her with the card just saying “Sarah…” on it. Funny how threatening just that one word could be, she mused as she’d dumped the flowers into the trash can.

  Allison insisted on coming personally to pick her up from the hospital after Noosh was discharged, and she settled Noosh into the back seat of the limousine, fussing around her, making Noosh grin. “You really have gone full-on Momma-Bear, haven’t you?”

  “Quiet, child,” Allison said, hiding her grin. “Now, your mom and dad packed all your things and sent them to me, so I took the liberty of unpacking some non-personal stuff, just to make your room feel like home.”

  Noosh sighed. It had taken her months to find the apartment in Queens, and having to let it go was annoying. But you’re alive, so stop feeling sorry for yourself and buck up. Noosh smiled her thanks at Allison and changed the subject.

  “How are the interviews going?” Noosh had missed the preparation and setting up of the Mobster Heirs series, and was sorry to have been out of action for it. From what Allison told her, it had been an eye-opening experience.

  “Good so far, but we have one hold-out…at least, we did. Christofalo Montecito called the day after our firearms campaign - and your story - got coverage on the national news. Said he wanted to help out with that, and if he could, he would give us the interview we want.”

  “That’s good news. What’s his story?”

  “Hard to say. We know he’s broken away from his family’s business, but what he’s been doing, what he plans to do, is a mystery. Try researching someone who doesn’t want to be found. There are no photos, no gossip about the man at all. Unheard of these days, but the man’s a ghost.”

  Noosh was surprised. “That is unheard of.”

  Allison grinned at her. “I know what you’re thinking – that you can find something on the internet even if an old coot like me can’t, but…there’s nothing. The man’s a private guy. So, him coming in to see us…”