Dirty Ties - Page 60

She wasn’t shrinking in fear or whimpering like a virgin. Her smile told me I’d just fulfilled a very naughty fantasy, one that featured a volatile asshole with the gall to claim her, shove her face into the mattress, and bang her with a furious temper. The lazy roll of her hips said she could take what I had to give all goddamned night, that she wanted my brand of piss and fire, wanted to be wrecked over and over by my pent-up anger.

Shocked to the base of my nuts and painfully turned on, I looked away and squeezed my dick, attempting to slow the raging pump of blood that throbbed through the length. I’d shown her the violence and furor inside me, let her see it in all its bitter glory. Hell, I’d slammed it into the back of her cunt. And she’d taken it, thrown it back at me, with her ass in the air, a smile on her lips, her hypnotic eyes begging for more.

She was a dangerous distraction, exactly what I didn’t want. Yet she was everything I never knew I was searching for.

I was so fucked.

I bent down, as if unlacing my Chucks, and grabbed the phone from the bag, holding it on the floor where she couldn’t see it.

She nudged my thigh with her hip, her breathy rasp tumbling over my shoulder. “I don’t know what that was or why you didn’t come, but you’re not finished.”

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.

16

Kaci

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.

Tags: Pam Godwin Erotic
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