Plain Jane and Mr. Wrong (Plain Jane Series Book 4)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Those were the magic words. Spreading her wide, he sucked on the sensitive flesh at the top of her sex, listening to every rasp, panted breath, abbreviated cry. Then slid a finger into her core and curled it.

  “Harden!”

  She was there, her body tensed like a pulled bowstring as he stroked that bundle of nerves and released. Her orgasm rolled through her body in a wave he felt with his tongue and finger inside her spasming sex. Her shuddering, bucking. He pinned her hips to the sofa and kept feasting.

  “Oh fuck!” she cried, her fingers sharp in his hair. “Yesss!” she hissed and bucked, smearing her juices in his stubble.

  And damn, she was juicy. Gushing and sweet. He swallowed every drop she gave him and didn’t stop sucking, licking, nipping her throbbing clit until another orgasm rolled through her hot pussy and his name was hoarse on her lips. Only then did he nuzzle her, letting her recover from her high, with licks to her inner folds. She shivered long and hard, then whimpered. He couldn’t tell if the whimper was for him to stop or beg for more. He suspected she didn’t know either.

  Damn, she was beautiful. He wanted to strip her down, have her naked and splayed before him, like a buffet. He wanted to fuck her. Drive deep into her wet heat, lose himself inside her. Fuck her until the need burning in his loins ended. Until she was just another female, a responsibility he could take care of from a distance. Settled between her thighs, she wouldn’t stop him if he unzipped and freed his cock.

  Harden waited for her to return from the stratosphere to prowl up her body. She welcomed him, her arms sliding along his shoulders, her legs hugging his waist.

  The temptation almost proved too much, but he wouldn’t take her, not here in Denizen on a sofa with his men outside the door and strangers dancing below. He wouldn’t fuck her like that. The irony wasn’t lost as he savored her flavor.

  Though it pained him—his cock was an iron bar in his pants—he got up and snatched her panties off the carpet. She watched him. It would be too easy to claim a trophy and stuff them in his pocket like he wanted to do. A scrap of cloth wasn’t the real trophy.

  Harden extended his hand and waited for her to take it. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Where was the woman who’d slapped his face in front of his men? She was gone, replaced with this shy creature who wouldn’t look at him.

  She took his hand and stood while Harden sat and pulled her in front of him. Instead of slipping them into his breast pocket, he resisted and did the gentlemanly thing. He shook out her panties and held them for her to step into. One foot, then the other, he glided them up her hips, shielding her pretty pussy. He straightened her skirt and shirt. No hint of what happened between them. As if his men wouldn’t guess.

  He stood. Inches apart, she finally met his eyes. She wasn’t shy for long, he noted as she studied him. He wanted to kiss her again, play connect the dots with her freckles. He’d bet money more were sprinkled all over her body. “Ready to go home?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice was an octave lower. Too much screaming did that to the vocal cords.

  He led the way to the door but she stopped him before he opened it. “Thank you for…”

  “The orgasm?” He’d swear red crept beneath her tanned cheeks.

  “No.” She rolled her eyes, but a smile tweaked her lips. “I’m still angry at you over the Ukrainians. But Jane is safe and I’m safe. And Allie is safe. And…you didn’t have to do any of it. And—”

  He could’ve let her babble a bit more, but he put her out of her misery and silenced her with a kiss.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jentry’s knees were jelly from the sex and so much more. Mind blown. Carl—the bastard—refused to go down on her. He told her from the get-go he didn’t do that. Hated the taste and only submissive men did that shit. Real men didn’t eat pussy because they knew how to fuck.

  She knew it was bullshit because guess what, he didn’t know how to fuck. She never came. Not once. Her first orgasm happened with a John. How sick was that? On a scale of one to ten, it rated fifteen.

  She hadn’t called Carl out on it. Not when the relationship was new, and his pleasure was more important than hers. She’d loved him. At least thought she was in love. Which, he turned against her. And later when he was a lowlife piece of shit, she just didn’t care. Not about him and even less about herself.

  These were not the thoughts she should have after tasting herself on Harden’s tongue. He lay on top of her, the weight comforting between her splayed thighs. The hard bar of his cock lay on her clit. A slight rock of her hips and lust shot through her body again.

  God, she wanted him, which was so fucked up. Why after a year and a half of celibacy did he have to awaken what should’ve remained dormant?

  The last thing she needed was another bad guy screwing her. Been there, done that, and had a kid to prove it. She loved her daughter and hated her daughter’s father in equal measure. May he rot in prison forever. Not likely with him up for parole in less than two years. She could only pray he served his full sentence for burglary. Five to ten years. If only God would be so kind even though He’d never answered any of her prayers.

  Flat on her back, she watched Harden retrieve her plain cotton panties from across the room. My they had traveled far. She expected him to hand them over, not to help her to her feet, then sit and hold them out for her to step into. And certainly not for him to guide them up her thighs, over her curves to settle them on her hips. His hands gentle. His cold eyes studying her.

  Today was a day of firsts. First kiss and first oral. She’d given it plenty of times. Not to brag, but she was damn good at giving blowjobs. But no one reciprocated.

  She hadn’t wanted him to know it was her first time having someone go down on her. But he knew. Guess it was written all over her face when he said he wanted to lick her pussy.

  And lick it he did. Whew! Now, there was before Harden ate her taco and after Harden ate her taco. Though she’d rather die than tell him, he blew her mind. When he asked if she was ready to go home, she momentarily got stuck on the last word. Home. Was that how he saw things? His home as her home. And if he did, what did it mean?

  Refusing to put more meaning to it then he probably meant was wise. Tell that to her racing heart and confused mind. Home. It was just a word. Just four letters. He didn’t mean more by saying it. Home and house to Harden were interchangeable even if he did sound sincere. Even if it did give her the warm fuzzies.

  Then he had to make a joke about her thank you. He wasn’t far from the truth. She certainly could thank him for the orgasm. One should give praise where praise was due. And his cunnilingus skills deserved praise and a plaque on the wall. Her apology fell on deaf ears and nosedived when it spun toward an accusation. He had dangled her and Jane like red meat in front of a starving shark.

  His kiss was just as hungry and demanding as the first one. Good kisser. Good pussy eater. What else was he good at?

  Before she gathered her wits, Harden opened the door and ushered her into the hallway. A hallway filled with his men waiting patiently for them.

  God, please let the skybox be soundproof. She already knew the answer, which was no. It couldn’t be soundproof when music had filtered into the room from the dance floor. That meant his men heard her every moan, every cry, every time she screamed his name.

  Please, God, kill me now. She blinked hard, giving the Lord time to come through. Nope! God’s track record was intact. He’d failed her yet again. Instead of killing her on the spot, she had to walk a gauntlet through his men. However, she raised her chin and squared her shoulders. It had been Harden’s head buried between her thighs, not the other way around. Her gaze cut to the men around her. Not one paid her any attention as they walked through the club, including Bruno, Pavel, Nicky, and Leonid. When did the latter arrive?

  Her gaze cut to Harden. His face devoid of all emotion, his focus was dead ahead. Utter confidence in his stride, strides shortened to match hers. Unexpectedly, he glanced at her with
a wink and a lick to his bottom lip. Thankfully, she was too tan to blush.

  One of his men waited at the exit with her purse and coat retrieved from the business office. Harden helped her into the latter, something that no one other than her mother or father had ever helped her into. Who said chivalry was dead?

  They made it outside to the side alley of the club where a line of luxury cars and their drivers waited, along with one random guy. He was a bear of a man. Taller than Harden and broader too.

  Holy shit! It was Lawson Goode. The playboy philanthropist, a.k.a. Mr. Goodbar because he was so good in bed. That was the rumor in the Hollywood gossip mills. He’d fucked his way through Beverly Hills, Palm Springs, Miami, and New York. His bed was a revolving door. Every female should be wary, but from what she’d heard, all his women left his bed walking funny and grinning.

  Lawson walked up to Harden. They slapped palms as best friends did and thumped chests for a manly hug. Lawson whispered something to Harden that had the head of the syndicate chuckling and shoving his friend away. Lawson glanced at her and threw her a kiss. Harden scowled and Lawson threw up his hands and hurried away in mock fright. He dashed into his red and black Lamborghini and roared away into the early morning hours of the night.

  “You have friends in high places.” Billionaires and playboys. Who else did Harden Gage know? she wondered.

  The car ride was silent. She wasn’t one for post-coital conversation. Or at least she didn’t think she was. Carl had never encouraged it and the few Johns she fucked hadn’t wanted witty conversation.

  Nothing else to do, Jentry watched, openly, as he fielded call after call. The dialogue was stilted, at least on his end, and coded. Letters replacing names, etc. She appreciated the effort. There wasn’t a single detail she wanted to know about his business. None. But she remembered what she heard on the street about the head of the New York syndicate. And so far, none of it had been wrong. He was ruthless, he had to be to yank the title away from the rightful heir, his brother. Brutal, he had to be to stay on top the seething heap. He didn’t make light threats. Cross Harden Gage and you will pay a price, in blood. And many had. Rumor had it he was into drugs—prescription and illegal—weapons, real estate, and cars, as in stripped and delivered luxury cars to third world countries. Import and export, and gambling. He wasn’t into human cargo, that was the rumor, neither pimping out women, though he wasn’t opposed to giving them a place to work with a slight charge for overhead, meaning the lower level of Catalyst. High-end and exclusive. What Carl had made her do wasn’t high-end and it wasn’t exclusive, and it wasn’t because she wanted to.

  Jentry closed her eyes and let her head fall back onto the headrest. She studiously avoided all thoughts of her baby daddy. This time she made it an entire month without rage consuming her. The man was in prison for another four years with good behavior. She had that long to get her shit together and get out of town, start her life over in a new city, new state. If necessary, a new name. After everything, she refused to allow him to have anything to do with Allie.

  The car pulled into the parking garage of Harden’s penthouse. She had to admit being chauffeured around had its perks. The least obvious, waiting for someone to open her door. Harden was there to help her out when Bruno opened her door. With a hand on the small of her back, Harden led the way to the waiting private elevator. The heat of his palm seeped through her coat and scorched her skin. Clearly, her imagination played tricks on her. She wasn’t imagining the wetness between her thighs and her empty core aching for a cock.

  Any cock, she lied to herself, and silently snorted.

  They entered the quiet house and headed toward the bedrooms. Together they peeked into the nursery to find Ms. Vicki in the rocking chair and Allie asleep in her crib.

  “Rough night with her teething.” The nanny explained and sought her bed.

  Harden followed Jentry to her bedroom. Torn between wanting to pick up where they left off and reestablishing boundaries that they’d obliterated, Jentry chose the latter.

  “Good night, Mr. Gage.” Petty. Petty. Petty. She could’ve said his name. She had shouted it to the rafters in the skybox, more than once, but it was all she had and by his frown she’d scored a minor point.

  He smirked. “We’re back to that?”

  “We never left it. Just because you ate me doesn’t move you up to first name basis,” she replied, her pussy slick and needy again.

  She stepped into her bedroom, intent on closing the door, but he blocked it with his body. For a panicked moment she thought he would enter, and all her bravado would evaporate.

  For a moment she thought he would take what she didn’t want to give, would become Carl, and ink his name below CDJ. She braced, prepared to fight because she refused, refused to lay down and take it like she had with Carl.

  You hurt me, I will fucking hurt you back, twice, thrice. Never again would she become someone’s doormat.

  Harden leaned against the doorjamb, his grin all sorts of wicked. He hadn’t a clue to her inner turmoil.

  “Everything you just spewed is bullshit. You didn’t call me Mr. Gage when my tongue was licking your clit and my fingers were inside you, and that’s all that counts.”

  The adrenaline pumping through her body bled out as quickly as it spiked, leaving her trembling. He wasn’t going to hurt her.

  “You want to keep it professional.” He reached out and grabbed her nape. Caught off guard, she put up no resistance and went to him willingly, even anticipating the contact, the strength of his hands on her body and the taste of him again. Didn’t she just tell herself she didn’t want this? Damn. He was right. It was all bullshit because she didn’t want to pull away, didn’t want him on the other side of her bedroom door.

  The hand on her nape tightened, keeping her exactly where he wanted her, not that she had a single thought of moving as his free hand slipped up her skirt and yanked her panties to the side. His finger was inside her again, swirling, teasing, not touching what needed to be touched, not getting her to the peak she wanted to climb.

  She clung to him, panting as he lowered his head close enough that any movement on either part would bring lips to lips, tongue to tongue. His finger grazed her clit and she shuddered, desperate for more.

  “Good night, Ms. Playne.”

  Harden extricated his fingers from her throbbing clit and wet core. He left her there, in her bedroom, pussy wet and achy, tempted to beg him to come back.

  Some people were too stupid and too stubborn to exist. Jentry could finally admit, she was both.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Where are they?” Harden demanded once he was back in the car with Bruno beside him.

  “We tracked them to Bresnik’s house in Yonkers.” Nothing else was said as the engine started. Three cars deep, they hit the highway. Late at night, traffic was nonexistent. They covered the distance between Lower Manhattan and Yonkers in forty-five minutes, slowing only for the few police and troopers on the road.

  It wasn’t long before they pulled up to a two-story house on a corner lot. It was a nice colonial red brick with white siding, upscale in a low-income neighborhood. Was this the best they could afford? Unless this was a cover, which made sense. Growing up, he’d lived in plenty of shitholes, growing up and after he cut out on his own when his father’s home was no longer hospitable.

  Harden snorted. It was never hospitable. How could it be with a father that only saw him for what he could do for him, and a brother who hated him. That first night his father had dropped him off at the house and left for a week. He had a mansion in Scarsdale all to himself. Just him and the help, until Colin showed up. An hour into their first meet and greet and they were trading blows.

  Four years older, Colin thought Harden was his personal whipping boy. Harden grew up in Brooklyn. Bed-Stuy. Not too many blond, blue-eyed boys in the neighborhood. Countless times he had his ass handed to him. That changed when he learned how to fight dirty and mean. The only way
to fight. Colin had picked the wrong half brother to bully.

  They parked in front of the house. This was a social call even if they were armed to the teeth. A fucking social call when both had their hands on Jentry. Harden flexed his fingers, missing the presence of his gun. No one would die tonight. That was the plan, but the plan was flexible. The door to the house opened before they got out of the car. Three armed Ukrainians exited and stood guard on the lawn. Bresnik and Fisnik filled the doorway. Bruno looked at Harden and gave the Vulcan hand salute. “I come in peace. Think it’ll work?”

  “Let’s give it a shot and see.” Harden climbed out of the car with his men already lined up and another car a block away in reserve. Backup.

  Pavel was with him. Leonid was in the other car, and Nick wasn’t answering his phone since Jane told Jentry she was alive and kicking. It wasn’t like Nick to drop off the grid. Also, Nick wasn’t one to broadcast his location. You knew where he was when he wanted you to. He was the most solitary out of the entire bunch.

  “You got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here,” Bresnik shouted.

  Harden shrugged. “I come in peace.” He did not do the Vulcan salute.

  “Oh yeah?” Bresnik shoved his men out of the way. “What do you want, Gage?” Bresnik shouted again, not caring about his neighbors getting any sleep.

  “I have a proposition.”

  “Not interested.”

  “It’s a lot of money. Potentially.”

  “Not—” Fisnik whispered in Bresnik’s ear before he rejected the offer a second time. “Let’s hear it.”

  “Out here? On the lawn?”

  “You and your underboss. That’s it.”

  “You and your brother. That’s it. All your men outside. If I enter and find anyone else inside, there will be blood. Everybody’s blood. Mine and yours.”

  The twins whispered, and Bresnik beckoned them forward. Harden and Bruno crossed the tidy lawn and entered the house. The decor was…quaint. Clean, which was appreciated. It had a woman’s touch with knickknacks no man would purchase. Was that woman here and who was she? Grandmother, mother, wife, girlfriend?