Searching for Beautiful (Searching For 3)

Shit.

"Condom," he croaked. She stroked him roughly from base to tip and a shudder wracked his body. "Where?"

Her curls spilled around her face and she blinked from a daze. "Don't have any. Got mad at you so I threw them all out."

"You didn't."

"I did. You have any?"

A strangled laugh escaped. "Threw them away so I wouldn't be tempted." She kissed his mouth over and over, and his chest broke open, oozing out a rough mess of emotion. So loving and sweet and whole. "Sweetheart, gotta slow down. Gonna lose it."

"Don't need the condom. I'm on the pill for my period. I'm clean."

He kissed her long and hard. "I just got tested, so I'm good. Are you sure?"

She squeezed his cock hard. "Does it look like I'm sure?"

"Yes. Hold on tight. You're going on a ride."

This time he didn't pause as he lifted her high and pulled her down hard and fast onto his cock.

She cried out, closing her eyes, gritting her teeth. He panted for breath, the extraordinary feeling of being buried so deeply within her tight heat so good he wanted to weep. She pulsed and milked him with tiny grips, urging him for more. Leveraging his back against the cushions, he began to lift her up and down, each time slamming a bit harder, sliding an inch deeper. The barbell hit her clit with each slow drag, and he twisted his hips to hit her special spot that made her body clench and shiver all over. Oh yeah. So fucking good.

Her voice broke. "Gonna come. Oh, God, can't wait."

"Not yet. I'm not done with you."

She arched for more, ready to get to climax, but he slowed the pace and the angle, refusing her. She groaned, bent over, and bit his shoulder. Hard.

"That's right, baby. Give me all you got."

"Bastard." She dug her nails into his chest, rubbing her nipples against him, and clenched her thighs tight in an effort to get him to move faster. He punished her by pinching her nipples, then grabbing her ass to control her better.

She surrendered, whimpering, shuddering, and suddenly he was done with play.

Wolfe surged one last time.

She came hard, crying out his name as her body convulsed. He kept the intense pace until the last of her pleasure was wrung from her body. Rubbed her clit side to side with fast motions, spilling her into another hard orgasm. Then let go.

He came inside her, loving the feel of her on his bare skin, loving the feeling of being completely connected and part of her sweet little body without any barriers between them. She collapsed onto his lap, her arms tight around his shoulders, his dick buried deep in her cunt.

Wolfe closed his eyes and held her like the precious gift she was. Knowing he couldn't fight it any longer. Not knowing what the answer was.

She opened one eye. "Still friends?"

He laughed, kissing her shoulder. "Definitely. Friends with benefits?"

"Yes. I don't want to fight it. How about this? We take it day by day. If we want to have sex, we do. No questions asked."

"I don't want us to date or sleep with anyone else."

She smiled and kissed him gently. "That's a requirement. Let's see how it goes. When you move out, maybe that will be a signal for us to go back to being platonic. But why deny ourselves this?"

His fingers caressed her buttocks, catching her shiver. "You're right. Because this is extraordinary."

"We don't have to end up like a stupid movie. We can play this on our terms."

"You're right. Our friendship is strong enough to handle great, mind-blowing sex. It will be good for us."

"Definitely. Now take me to bed," she demanded.

He lifted her up and stalked into the bedroom. Amazing how clear everything suddenly seemed. Maybe seeing that movie was a sign. A good sign. They'd handle it together. In the meantime, they wouldn't have to fight their attraction. Taking it day by day was sheer genius.

What could possibly go wrong?

He ignored the warning voice and concentrated on the woman in his arms.

VINCENT SOLDANO STEPPED INTO the makeshift bedroom, pushed away the cheap Harry Potter poster he'd gotten when he was young, and put the rest of the money into the hole in the wall. He felt like the prisoner from the Shawshank movie, hiding his escape route behind some lame-assed wall hanging. But it worked. None of the men or his mom had found it since he'd needed to move his stash.

He was getting the hell out.

He had money. The knife. Clothes. Backpack. A few personal items. Food and water. He'd grown larger over the last year, and held more of a presence. He was less of a scrawny kid, on the verge of being a man, and he figured it gave him a better shot in the world. No foster care or crap for him. Just him, his wits, and his survival.

The shouts grew louder and he cursed under his breath. Wished he'd left yesterday, but he wanted one more day to make sure his escape was well planned. Better to have his mother completely drugged up and wasted so she didn't think to look for him awhile. The more distractions the better, and last night had been way too quiet. But now it seemed a full-fledged party was going on. After the sex and the drugs, he'd be able to stroll out the door without a glance back.

It was finally done.

He spent the next hour distracting himself, listening to the night grow more rowdy. The knock on the door surprised him. He tensed.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, kid, come on out here. Your mom needs you."

He rarely listened, but something about this being the last time seeing his mom made him a bit soft. His knife was in his pocket, but this time he'd gotten much more adept at using it. He was pretty deadly, practicing constantly and giving himself drills in order to protect himself. Next time, he'd be ready.

He stepped out with a scowl. "What?"

His mother leaned against the wall, eyes bloodshot, mouth half open with ecstasy. Seeing things that weren't there or didn't exist. He hoped they were good things rather than bad. "Hey, baby!" A thin trickle of saliva ran from her lips and dripped on her torn tank. One bare breast hung out and he deftly avoided looking at her body, concentrating on her face. The paraphernalia was laid out carefully. Weed. Crack. Empty bottles of whiskey and vodka. Beer cans. Someone was screwing in the back room, but the asshole who had knocked had a funny look in his eyes. Like he was excited about something.

"Your mom is toasted," the squat, muscular pimp announced. "She's not gonna be

much help for me tonight. So we need you."

His gut twisted. Adrenaline began to pump through his veins, a reaction to the dangerous aura in the air. The dealer called himself Scott. Been around awhile, taking care of his mother when she was strung out, pushing her to work harder being a whore. Vincent didn't get the same creepy kind of vibe he got from the last few, and Scott seemed to leave him alone. Didn't seem like he was into males.

And that's where Vincent realized he'd made his major mistake.

"Yeah, well, can't help you out." He acted casual, sneering, the knife comfortable in his pocket. He headed toward the door, but the dealer blocked him. A tiny smirk came across his lips.

"I think you can," he drawled. Vincent tensed. Knew he had a good shot at taking him. "See, your mom ran out of money. Ran out of favors. So tonight, she called in her last chip."

His mother smiled so sickly and sweetly he thought he'd vomit. "Sorry, baby. Gotta help me. Gotta help."

He clenched his fists and fought for breath. He might have to run without his stash. Fuck. "If you think I'm some kinda whore like her, you're wrong. You touch me and I'll kill you."

Scott grinned. "Ever try it? Maybe it's not so bad. Tell you what, do it this one time for me and we'll call it even. I won't bother you or your mother again."

He took a step back but refused to glance at the door. Too close. He'd have to run. His hand slid behind his back, slipped out the knife, and clenched it in his hand. He couldn't miss. There was too much at stake. "Didn't know you were a homo, pimp," he sneered, trying to distract him. "Whatsa matter? Your dick not big enough for a woman?"

Scott kept grinning and began walking toward him. "We can do this hard or real easy. I've given you time. Space. Let you steal money from me when you thought I wasn't looking. But now it's time to pay up."

Vincent swallowed past the nausea and fear overtaking him, lifted the knife, and with a perfect arc threw it in the air.

The blade hit its target, piercing the man's upper chest.

Vincent didn't wait to see the damage. He turned and raced for the only exit, knowing if he didn't get there he wouldn't have another chance.

Scott's howl reached his ears. Scrambling feet. The knob turned, slid, twisted. Clean air rushed over him. One sneaker hit the ground, found purchase, and he began to run.