Dirty Ties (22 page)

The job was done, but she was right. I wouldn’t ever be finished with her. “I haven’t even begun, you greedy slut.”

What we just did…that had been for the cameras. For revenge. Maybe I was a selfish bastard, but the rest of the night was for me.

I tapped the screen and shut down the recording.

Boneless and light-headed, I wavered in my heels, bent over the mattress with my face in the bedding and the nerves beneath my skin buzzing from the proximity of the man beside me. The man who had just fucked me to delirium and back.

An ache pulsed between my legs, perpetuating the burn he’d left with his thrusts. The muscles at my waist twinged from where his hands had held me down. My throat burned from the strain of my vocal cords.

But my chest felt lighter, my mind clearer. The rest of my body drifted between languid contentment and anxious waiting.

I haven’t even begun, you greedy slut.

God, he’d said it in such a biting tone my lungs had filled with ice. At the same time, I shivered with delight. He’d delivered the same dark promise in his glare from across the bar. I should’ve heeded it. Maybe I had. Wasn’t that the reason I’d risked my career and Trent’s threat against Collin’s freedom to come here? To spend the night so lost in this man I’d forget about the consequences?

And to think I had stood in the doorway of the hotel room, trembling on the threshold of indecision. I’d almost backed out. I would’ve missed out on the most intense sex I’d ever experienced.

His arm bumped against my leg, his bicep flexing with whatever he was doing.

I hadn’t gathered the strength to move from my face-down position, but I angled my head and drank in the teasing view of his backside where he sat on the edge of the bed. “So I think my screams might’ve reached Chicago Avenue. I’m surprised the neighbors haven’t come knocking.”

He didn’t raise his head, but his chuckle was warm and delicious. “Evidently it’s a slow night at The Bells Hotel. We have the floor to ourselves.”

Folded at the waist, his chest over his lap, he appeared to be taking off his shoes. The narrow
V
of his lower back contracted and moved, but his shirttail concealed the muscle definition.

He still hadn’t removed his jeans. Hadn’t refastened them either, given how the waistband hung loose around the bend of his ass. I’d be ogling the top half of his crack if his shirt wasn’t tucked in.

I couldn’t see the front of him, which left me to imagine all sorts of lustful things about his cock. Was it hanging out of his zipper? Stiff and dragging over his hard stomach while he untied his shoes?

I squeezed my thighs together. I still hadn’t seen him orgasm. I hadn’t even seen him naked, but I had a good sense of his size, had felt the depth of pain and pleasure from his ramming length. And because I
was
a greedy slut, I needed to know if he was still aroused, if his cock matched the rigidness of his posture.

Pushing up on my arms, I backed off the bed and swayed dizzily to my feet
.
He raised his head at the same time, as if he’d been waiting, tuned in to my movements.

He straightened his back, black Converse in one hand, his erection in the other. The pound of my pulse filled my ears, in sync with the throb between my legs. He was incredibly stiff and thick, jutting from the open zipper of his jeans. His fingers curled around the base, clenching unapologetically, the condom still coated with my wetness.

I’d thought his shape was formidable beneath the mold of denim, but seeing him exposed and swollen and filling the huge grip of his hand—my God, no wonder I ached from my thighs to my belly button.

He tossed the shoes to the side, and the density of his golden eyes landed on me, pinning me in place. His desire was brazen, arousal dilating the pupils and weighing down his lids. But there was something else rotating there, a turbulent emotion sharpening the corners of his eyes.

The fierceness of it curled around my chest, warm and smothering and secure. It felt right, like I’d found myself, perhaps discovered everything I’d wanted, right there in the hostile intensity of his gaze.

What did that even mean? That I wanted to be owned or controlled or taken viciously? That I had a deep-seeded hankering to be hate-fucked? Why would he hate me?

No, that wasn’t it. His passion was what spoke to me, his fire and venom. It was feverish, bold, and full of fight. All of which I welcomed, if only for one night, to fill the emptiness in my chest.

“If you’re going to stare at me, do it with your clothes off.” His voice was smooth and deliciously sexual, just like the slow slide of his fist as he twisted it over his length.

The next stroke took the condom with it. He dropped it on the floor then proceeded to rub himself, harder, faster, rocking his hips and fucking his hand, his eyes never leaving mine.

The erotic sight heated my skin and sank deep into my bones. He was so damned sexy it was arresting. The stubble on his jaw glinting a coppery hue beneath the overhead light. His thick lashes lowering as he broke eye contact to watch the slide of his fist. His lips separating on a ragged exhale.

Lips made for murmuring dirty words. Strong legs built for balance and speed. Hands meant to inflict pain and manipulate pleasure. A thick cock for stretching—

The slap of his hand on my ass sounded in my ears, and a smarting bolt of heat burst across my backside. Shock stole my breath, and I teetered in the heels.

He caught my elbow and used it to haul me chest-down on his lap, yanking up my dress.

“Wait. What are you—?”

Sharp, searing pain spread across my ass with another whack of his hand, and my startled yelp tumbled into a moan. I bucked through yet another smack, tensing, sighing. Then the real spanking came, the rapid whip of his hand striking every inch of my exposed backside and setting my skin on fire. With one arm braced across my back and his hard thighs pressing into my torso, he beat my ass without reprieve.

The anticipation of each strike stoked a maddening burn through my body, but I fought it, fought him, just to see if he’d fight back. To find out how badly he wanted it, to see if I was worth the effort. Even more thrilling was the intensity of his gaze on my face. I could feel him watching my reactions with total focus. If I didn’t want this, he’d stop.

My smile belied the thrashing of my body. He wrestled me with one arm while swinging the other, all the while keeping my chest locked against his lap. But my arms were free, and I used them to jab my fists and shove at his ribs, laughing and—
Sonofabitch, that was a hard hit
—groaning as his strikes grew stronger, faster.

That’s it.
I angled an elbow and slammed it as hard as I could into the prodding erection at my side.

“Arrrgh, fuck!” He jerked back, hands on his cock and his knees drawing up as I scrambled off his lap. His face pinched with pain, and his eyes tapered into sexy slits. “What the hell was that for?”

I sidled out of his reach, kicking off the heels and rubbing my poor butt. “
What was that for?
My fucking ass is on fire!”

The pinched expression twisted into a diabolical smirk. He stood, vibrating with dirty plans, and unbuttoned his shirt. “Told you to take your clothes off.”

Now I knew what to expect when I ignored an order. Biting down on a grin, I backed up. He stepped with me, his stern expression and fluid slide of muscle all prowly and growly.

I thrilled in the chase, my stomach tightening and my hungry skin burning for his touch. A few feet from the wall, I halted in my retreat and tilted my head. “Make me.”

He launched, his arms hooking around my back and his chest slamming into mine. We stumbled backward. His hand caught our fall on the wall. But he kept coming, his heavy body plowing into mine, fencing me in with the unmoving surface at my back. With a hand on my ass and the other flat on the wall, he dipped his head.

The moment our lips collided, something snapped between us, an explosive release of restraint. And sweet Jesus, we surrendered to it. Our tongues whipped together, our bodies grinding. My hands flew to his hair, holding him to me as I inhaled the heavy breaths rushing past his lips.

Nothing compared to this, to him. Because he didn’t just kiss. He fucked with his mouth, stretching and owning, dragging his tongue, wrenching every wanton part of me from my chest, and drawing it past my lips.

He kissed hard and deep and furiously possessive. He kissed like he was never letting go.

“Get this off.” He pawed along the back of my dress, searching for the hidden zipper as his mouth overtook mine.

His hands went crazy, scratching and digging. I grinned against his lips, didn’t lift a finger to help him. His urgency fueled the fire blazing through my veins.

Finally giving up on the zipper, he gathered the skirt and dragged it up and over my head. Our mouths separated as he tugged and stretched the material, forcing my arms in the air to pull it free.

He stepped back, and the dress fell from his hand, the sight of him untamed and painfully exquisite. His brown hair looked more blond in this light, with maybe a shimmer of red, the ends standing up in tousled spikes from my hands. His shirt hung open, framing the chiseled strength of his hairless chest.

His jeans hung precariously low on his hips, the zipper spread around the beautiful jut of his cock. He curled his fingers around it, stroking lazily, as his eyes roamed over me.

There was something so wickedly arousing about watching a man touch himself, and Logan took it to an illicit level. I leaned against the wall for support and licked my tingling lips.

“Jesus, Kaci. Look at you.”

I glanced down at my body, at the red lace bra, black satin and rhinestone garter belt, and sheer thigh-high stockings. When I returned to his eyes, mine narrowed. Look at what? The expensive lingerie? Or my rapidly-approaching-forty physique? I crossed my arms over my belly.

He crouched, eye-level with the naked apex of my legs, and skimmed his hands over my skin, touching everywhere but not committing to one spot, like he couldn’t decide where to start.

The caress of his fingers heated my inner thighs, the dip in my waist, and along the ridges of my ribs. His eyes followed the trail of his hands, his back rising and falling through heavy breaths. The muscled indentations in his wide shoulders twitched through the movement. He focused on me with every part of his body.

No one had ever looked at me like that before, like nothing had come before that moment and everything after would pale in comparison.

A strange feeling constricted my throat. I didn’t know what to do with that, and whenever I was flustered, I said stupid shit. “I’m not twenty anymore.”

He dropped his forehead on my mound and breathed out a groan. “Thank fuck for that.”

That surprised me, which made me wonder… “How old are you?”

“Thirty-two.” His whiskers scratched as his mouth pressed between my legs, the only warning I had before he bit down on the piercing and tugged with his teeth.

His assault might’ve been unbearable, but that tongue, holy hell… With a few well-placed and toe-curling licks, he brought me to another orgasm so fast my head spun.

Gasping and shaking from my release, I looked down. “Jesus, Logan. No more. I can’t.”

The irresistible arch of his eyebrow twitched. In the next moment, his hands were everywhere, frantically wrestling off the bra and garters as he walked us to the bed. The stockings went next.

During his fight with my clothes, I managed to strip off his shirt. I was still struggling with his jeans when he gripped my waist, lifted my body off the floor and flung me.

I landed on the bed, and he followed me down, shoving and kicking off his boxers and pants.

Finally naked, his hips rolled over mine, one hand sliding up my ribs, fingers latching onto my nipple. The other grappled with the box of condoms.

Chest-to-chest, skin-on-skin, the hard weight of his body felt excruciatingly perfect. His cock prodded my entrance, his pelvis grinding with urgency.

He fumbled with a foil package, bringing it to his mouth, his teeth tearing into it. “Fuck, baby. I need inside you so badly it hurts.”

I grabbed the rubber from his hand, and reaching between our sweat-slicked bodies, I rolled it on and positioned him. The instant I pulled my hands away, he thrust.

Our foreheads came together, and we groaned in unison. Deep and merciless, the drag of his cock stretched me open and filled me up, the friction of his thrusts shooting sparks of pleasure down my legs. I rolled my hips into each drive of his, but when he found his rhythm, all I could do was hang on. He moved fast and achingly wild, his attack mindlessly animalistic as he pounded into me over and over.

The mattress creaked with his thrusts, his ass flexing beneath my hands. With his forearms beside my head, holding up his weight, and his body stretched over mine, he caged me in. Shoving harder, deeper, his hips pushed my body up the mattress until my head touched the headboard.

It was brutal and unhinged, the bed frame banging against the wall and my insides twinging with each stabbing plunge. But this time was different. It felt more intimate than the first, like the only thing between us was…acceptance.