Rich Dirty Dangerous (Bad Billionaires 3)

He pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down his body at me. He knew, of course he knew—he knew everything. “Dani,” he said.

I let him go and licked my lips. I didn’t need saving, not now. “You think I don’t want to?” I asked.

He watched me. Even in the dark, he saw everything. “Take what you want,” he said at last. “Take all of it if you want. But I’m going to watch you do it.”

My blood pulsed thick and hot again. I liked that—I wanted him to watch me. I wanted him to see. I licked the head of his cock, ran my lips over it, listened to the catch in his breath. I took him in my mouth, and this time there was no fear, no memory. His skin was hot and smooth, and he tasted good, and I just let myself go and let it happen, let myself do it while his body tensed beneath me.

After a minute I took a break, tracing the head of his cock with my tongue while he made a sound of pure male frustration. “Is it good?” I asked him.

He was still on his elbows, watching me, and when I met his gaze I already knew the answer. “Yes,” he rasped. “It’s very fucking good.”

I licked the head again. “I want it to be the best blow job you’ve ever had,” I said, teasing him and telling the truth at the same time. I knew what the girls who came to the club were like. They liked to give the men head, and they were good at it, and they didn’t have hangups like me. How many women had he done this with—ten, twenty, thirty? It was suddenly important that he forget them the same way I was forgetting McMurphy. I didn’t want to think about who he’d been with, and what he’d done with them, and whether he’d liked it—and I didn’t want him to think about it either.

He gave a laugh that was thick with frustration. “Are you serious?” he said. “No fucking contest.”

It was a nice thing to say, and I wanted to believe it. I ran my tongue down the side of his cock like it was a popsicle. “You promise?”

His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. It was demanding and affectionate at the same time. “I promise,” he said. “Fuck, Dani, I want to watch you swallow my come.”

I wanted that too. I took him in my mouth and started again. He kept his hand on my cheek, his body tense as his hips tried to press him further into my mouth. “Yes,” he said as I worked him. “Like that, baby. Like that. Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.”

I didn’t. He came with a growl, his come spurting into my throat. It was hot and dirty, and I liked it. I liked it, and I didn’t care if that made me dirty too. I swallowed all of it, like he told me to, and when he pulled me up on the bed and wrapped his arms around me, wrapping us both in the thin sheets of the motel bed and curling his body around mine, as he turned out the lamp and we lay together in the darkness, it took me a while to realize that both of us were shaking.

Fifteen

Cavan

Sometime around two o’clock in the morning, I woke up thirsty. I was still tangled up with Dani, both of us naked, the sheets knotted around us. I blinked in the dark and got my bearings.

Dani was asleep, her leg hooked over mine, her foot wedged beneath my thigh, her cheek against my shoulder, her hair tickling my skin. I had my arm around her, my fingers curled over the back of her neck. It should have been uncomfortable, but I didn’t feel a thing. My body, it seemed, was in a state of complete fucking bliss. It hadn’t worn off. I wondered if it ever would.

I slid my arm out from under her and looked down at her. I could see her thigh, the curve of her hip, one sweet breast and its cherry-pink nipple. Jesus, I was losing my mind, and I hadn’t even fucked her yet. I was naked in bed with the one woman on earth who would get me killed, and I had no desire to leave her.

But apparently it was thirsty work to lick the sexiest woman I’d ever seen, then watch her swallow as I came harder than I had in my life. So I reluctantly disentangled the rest of my body and slid out of bed. Dani didn’t wake, but she gave a dissatisfied sigh when I left. It could be very easy, I thought, to get used to hearing that sound.

I found my jeans and pulled them on, commando, my feet bare. The room smelled like cheap synthetic carpet and sweaty sex. I was a fucking billionaire, for God’s sake—Dani deserved better. I’d find a way to give it to her. In the meantime, I could at least get her a drink.

I found some of my cash and slipped out the door onto the motel veranda, which was dark and quiet. Gently closing the door behind me, I looked around. The street past the parking lot was silent, the lot itself half empty. The stretch beyond the motel had gone mostly dark, except for a far-off strip club and a bar with its lights still on. The motel itself showed no signs of life; even the front office was closed and locked.

At the end of this stretch of rooms I saw the glow of a drink machine, so I headed for it, the boards of the veranda quiet beneath my bare feet. A breeze blew over my skin and I felt goosebumps between my shoulder blades in the warm California night air.

The machine had soda, water, and juice. I was pondering the selection, and was slipping a dollar bill into the slot, when the sound came behind me.

My reflexes were faster than my brain, recognizing the sound before I could fully categorize it: the stomp of motorcycle boots against the boards of the veranda. Whoever it was had come from the parking lot. I turned without thinking, bracing myself against the machine and kicking my foot out just as a big guy in a leather MC cut came at me full speed. I had already put my heel hard in his gut before it registered that I didn’t recognize him. And then it was too late to do any more thinking.

I’m not a fighter. I never have been. But when you’ve grown up rough, then spent ten years living in the viper’s nest that is the Black Dog MC, you either learn a few skills or the brothers will stomp you into the dust. Men like the Dogs can smell weakness—it calls to them, drives them wild. The key to survival is never to show fear, even for a second. So I learned early to hit hard, hit quick, and hit first. I learned to sense when a hit was coming my way, and I learned not to wait for it.

I didn’t wait now. When the Dog bent double, I punched him on the side of the head as hard and as fast as I could. My fist hurt—his skull was fucking hard—but I was pretty sure I rang some bells in his head for a second.

I had to get back to the room, back to Dani. I didn’t know how many guys he had with him. But

before I could move he was on me, fast for a big guy, shoving me back into the vending machine and making it shake. His big hands had my shoulders. He smelled like stale beer. I had no idea who the fuck this guy was.

“A little warning from McMurphy,” he growled. I saw his fist coming and ducked, but he still clipped me on the hard bone just above my eyebrow, making my head crack back onto the glass of the vending machine. My vision doubled for a second. I kneed him in the balls, making him grunt in pain, and when his fist came again I dodged it this time so he punched the glass and I got out of his grip.

I punched him low, slamming his kidneys as he twisted toward me. From the parking lot came the roar of a motorcycle engine, and then another.

In a second, my attacker was gone, taking off into the darkness. I had time to see the Black Dog insignia on the back of his cut before he vanished.