Corrupting Cinderella (Lost Kings MC 2)

“No,” I answer.

“Good.”

He nudges me back into place, with my hands braced against the back. The chair dips as he kneels behind me. His hand on my hip steadies me, spreading my knees, pressing my back down, so my ass is angled up. Both of his hands rub and caress my ass through the nylon. A slight pinch and a loud ripping sound fills the air. Cool air kisses my skin.

His palm nuzzles against my now-exposed pussy. More fabric rips, and I let out a long moan.

An excited quiver radiates from my belly down to my clit. One finger pushes inside and I wriggle against him, seeking more.

“Yes,” I groan.

His finger pushes deeper. Slow pulses, lulling me into a seductive rhythm. He adds another finger and works me steadily until I’m swaying back and forth.

The harsh rushing through my ears drowns out any sounds for a moment, but I feel him position his cock against me and press inside.

From all the buildup, I’m crazy-close to letting go.

“Not yet, Hope,” Rock warns through clenched teeth.

I arch back toward the pounding snap of his hips. His hands tighten around my waist, squeezing hard. Each stroke spirals me higher. Smooth, slick strokes I can’t get enough of.

“Please,” I beg through moans and gasps.

He curls himself over me, reaching to flick circles over my clit. Hot and wet, he drags his tongue along my neck and nips my earlobe.

His relentless thrusting never stops or slows. He keeps driving into me deeper, working me harder. Everything centers around where we’re joined, pleasure drowning me until I can’t hold back any longer. My short, erratic screams echo around us.

“Fuck,” he gasps behind me. His hips jerk against me a few more times. A low grunt and deep exhalation.

I collapse against the chaise, and he follows me down, rubbing my back, pressing kisses along my spine. Straightening my legs, I shift and turn until I’m facing him. He’s on his side, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other propping his head up so he can watch me.

“You owe me a pair of tights,” I tease.

He leans down and silences me with a long, deep kiss. After he pulls away, his sexy mouth twists into one of his irresistible smirks.

“Totally worth it.”

CHAPTER TEN

“Babe, you wanna stay up at the clubhouse or at my house Thursday?”

Since her caseload is still small, Hope’s been taking Fridays off, so we normally spend the night together at one of those two places. Now that the clubhouse is free of girls itching to harass her, she seems more comfortable spending time there, which in turn makes my life easier.

She walks into the living room, nervously twisting her hands. “I, uh, have a thing to go to Thursday night.”

Her tone puts me on alert¸ and I sit up. “What kind of thing?”

She waves her hand in the air. “A lawyer thing. For Mara’s husband? The judge? I normally wouldn’t go—I hate those things—but she asked me to, so…”

“That mean Sophie’s going too?”

“Yes…” Something about the way she answers sparks my interest.

“You going together?”

“No, I’m going with Mara’s friend, Ross. You’ve met him. He uh, isn’t really ‘out’ in the legal community. So, Mara used to go to these things as his date, but you know, since she’s married now, she asked me if I’d go with him.”

I have met Ross. I have no problem with all my girl’s guy friends being gay. No problem. Still, something about her going as someone else’s date, no matter the reason, bothers me.

“You said you don’t do those type of things, so that’s why I didn’t ask,” she says hurriedly.

There it is. That’s why I feel like shit. She’s right. I did make a big point of telling her I would never escort her to something like that. And fuck, I meant it.

But Christ, when I think of the amount of time she’s spent with me in my world, all the shit she’s put up with from the people in my club, doing that stuff because I needed her to. . .is escorting her to some stupid party really that big a deal? In the entire time we’ve been together, this is the first time she’s gone to one of these things. It’s not like she does it all the time.

I’ve been silent for so long thinking this through that Hope drops her hands and returns to the kitchen where she was preparing dinner. She gives up, just like that.

Maybe she’s embarrassed to be seen with me at that type of event? Even with long sleeves and a collared shirt, traces of my ink will be visible.

Well, no, she’s introduced me to her friends. By accident mostly. Even the invitation to Jonny’s show came unintentionally, because I happened to be sitting next to her when Sophie sent the invite. My girl never asks me to spend time with her friends, but I’m always making her spend time with mine. Fuck, she never demands anything from me.

Except honesty.

Which I haven’t completely given her yet.

Pushing off the couch, I find her in the kitchen stirring sauce over the stove.

“Smells good.”

Without turning, she answers with a soft, “Thanks.”

“Babe, I’ll go with you Thursday.”

Her shoulders sag, not exactly the reaction I expected. “It’s okay. It’ll be boring. Clay never went with me to that type of stuff either. It’s not a big deal. I’m used to it.”

I’m not crazy enough to think I’m in competition with her dead husband or anything. Still, her admission pushes me forward. Setting my hands on her shoulders, I pull her back from the stove. She drops the wooden spoon she was using on the counter and turns in my arms.

Her deep green eyes stare up at me with concern. “What’s wrong, Rochlan?”

She’s so serious all of a sudden. Maybe she doesn’t want me there.

Truth, give her truth.

“I want to take you.”

She lets out a soft sigh. “Why? You can’t possibly be jealous of Ross. You’ve met him.”

Cupping her cheeks with my hands, I draw her gaze up to meet mine. “It’s not a jealousy thing. You’ve been so agreeable about spending time doing stuff with me, it’s only fair I return the favor.”

Confusion clouds her pretty face, and she looks down at the floor.

“That’s not our deal. I knew your role as President meant I’d have to spend time at the club. You were upfront with me that you didn’t do suits, ties, and schmoozing. I agreed it was okay. I have no right to complain about it now.”

Christ, how she’s twisting the knife in my heart, and she doesn’t even realize it. Throwing my words back at me without any venom. She’s completely honest and serious.

“You’re not asking me, sweetheart. I’m offering. I should do this for you.”

She glances up, and I get a glimpse of cautious optimism that cements my decision.

“It’s at this stupid fancy-pants place. You’ll hate it.”

“Is that your way of asking me if I own a suit?” I tease.

The corners of her mouth twitch up. “No.”

“Are you embarrassed to introduce me to your colleagues?”

Tears shimmer in her eyes, and I want to punch myself. She places her hand on my chest. “No. Please don’t ever think that.”

I should have kept that thought to myself. My girl’s not like that. She’s proved it over and over again.

“You worried your judge friend won’t want me there because of my record?”

She tilts her head as if the thought never occurred to her, and a slight frown darkens her face. “No. It’s not like they’re going to do a background check at the door.”

“You gonna be embarrassed if I can’t cover all my ink?”

She tilts her head to the side, and a hint of a naughty smile curves her lips. “No. It’s sexy, since I’ll be the only one there who gets to see the full picture.”

Well, doesn’t that answer excite the fuck outta me.

Grasping her hand from my ches

t, I brush my fingers over her knuckles. “What time should I pick you up?”

The second she opens the door Thursday night, I’m thrilled I offered to do this. Her sharp intake of breath and wide eyes as she takes me in is worth the discomfort I’m feeling in the stiff, preppy getup. I’m equally appreciative of her form-fitting navy dress and classy updo. The high heels accentuate her shapely legs, and I’m ridiculously turned on watching her hips sway as she glides over to my SUV. I relish the contrast between this sexy, elegant woman about to mingle with a bunch of uptight lawyers, and the breathy sex kitten I can turn her into when we’re alone.

Although it’s sexy as fuck, the tight skirt means she can’t quite make it up into my vehicle. Fine with me. It gives me the opportunity to wrap my hands around her waist and give her a boost. She breaks into giggles as she smooths her skirt down. Now that I’ve had my hands on her, I want to push that skirt up around her thighs and fuck the living fuck out of her.

Instead, like the good escort I plan to be tonight, I fire up the truck and back it down her long driveway.

No matter how obsessed I’ve been with Hope since the day we met, if you’d told me two years ago I’d be voluntarily throwing on a suit and escorting her to a political fundraiser for a city court judge, I would have knocked you the fuck out. But here I am.

Happy as fuck.

The closer we get to the restaurant, the more nervous she seems.

“Babe, you okay?”

She grasps my hand, holding it tight. “It’s not you. Please don’t think that. I always get nervous going to these things. I hate them.”

Lacing my fingers with hers, we hold hands until I have to put the truck in park. I hand over the keys to the valet and help her down.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are tonight?”

Her lashes flutter as she drops her gaze. “No.”

“Then I’m an asshole. You’re gorgeous, and I’m a lucky bastard to have you on my arm.”

Mara meets us almost right away, which seems to help Hope relax a notch. I vaguely remember meeting Mara before. Except for her slightly more generous curves and shorter stature, she and Hope could be sisters. Mara has the same fair coloring, although her hair is a few shades lighter.

Squeezing Hope tight, she starts chattering a mile a minute. “I’m so, so happy to see you guys. I hate, hate, hate these things.”

Hope’s mouth curves into a smile. “I know.”

“Tell me the truth, Hope. Does this dress look okay?”

My gaze drifts over the clingy white garment splashed with bright red roses. More than okay. She’s quite stunning, actually. But no one asked for my opinion, so I keep it to myself.

“It’s beautiful,” Hope answers.

Running self-conscious hands over her hips, she asks Hope again, “You’re sure it doesn’t accentuate my giant, baby-bearing hips?”

I choke on a laugh. A completely inappropriate comment about men liking something to hold on to pops in my head, but I manage to keep my mouth shut.

Hope chuckles. “No, honey. You’re gorgeous.”

Just then, a tall, authoritative man slips his hand around Mara’s waist. “Are you fishing for compliments again, lovely?”

Mara’s nose twitches. “No. I was trying to get an honest opinion from Hope. You’ll tell me I look hot in a hefty bag.”

“That’s because it’s true.”

He tears his gaze from his wife to greet Hope. Then his hawk eyes settle on me. He quirks an eyebrow at Hope.

“Judge Oak, this is my boyfriend, Rochlan North.”

He tsks at Hope. “How many times? It’s Damon to Mara’s friends.” We shake hands. “Good to meet you, Mr. North. My wife tells me you take good care of Hope.”

Interesting.

“I do my best. She’s a stubborn one.”

Damon snorts. “I feel your pain,” he says with a nod at Mara.

“Hey!” both girls protest. Damon kisses the top of Mara’s head. By the possessive way he holds onto her, I get the feeling Mara is the friend who gets the spankings in the group. From what Hope’s told me, one of her friends is rather kinky, and I’m mildly amused to find out it’s the judge and his wholesome-looking wife.

This party just got a whole lot more interesting.

“Thanks for coming.” Damon leans in to Hope. “I appreciate you being here. You know how much Mara hates these things.”

Hope grins. “No problem. Go. Mingle. Raise money.”

With another thank you, he walks away to socialize with some other guests. Mara stays put. Suddenly her eyes widen as she focuses on something behind us. “Looks like our firecracker is here.”

Hope and I turn to see Sophie strutting in with Ross. Firecracker is a good way to describe her. Tight, bright pink dress bordering the edge of classy and…not so classy. Sky-high heels and long curly hair. She fixes her dark blue eyes on us and drags Ross in our direction.

“Where’s the champagne?” is the first thing she asks. Mara points her in the right direction, and Sophie stomps over without even saying hello.

Ross shakes my hand. “Hey, date stealer.”

I huff out a laugh. “Looks like you made a nice recovery.”

“Yeah, going to have my hands full with her for sure.”

“What’s wrong with her tonight?” Hope asks.

Ross shakes his head. “Got me.”

Sophie returns fisting two champagne glasses. She eyes me up and down, then shoots Hope a glare. “I’m so fucking jealous you managed to get your man in a suit and drag him down here.”

A flash of guilt crosses Hope’s face, and I squeeze her hand. “I offered to join her, Sophie.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, but she only answers with, “Looking good, Rock.”

“Did you ask Jonny?” Mara asks.

“Fuck, no. He would hate this,” she answers, while throwing me another questioning look.

The girls cluster together and start talking in hushed tones. Ross and I make small talk. He’s actually kind of funny, so I don’t mind being shut out of the girl-talk. Adam and his date join us, and it’s a regular sausage fest.

After two glasses of wine, my girl’s eyes are glazed, her cheeks flushed, and she’s giggling louder than normal. As I slip my hand around her waist, she leans into me. Tipping her head up, a soft smile spreads over her face. “Thank you for this.”

“No problem, baby doll.”

“We can get going soon.”

“I’m fine.” And I am. I haven’t broken out in hives yet. Or wanted to throat punch anyone. Hope’s friends are actually down to earth and easy to talk to. We don’t mingle much with anyone else, and that suits me just fine.

Our attention is redirected to the middle of the room, where an out-of-control Sophie has taken to the dance floor. She’s pulled a mild-looking attorney with her, who seems to be surprised to find himself dancing with such a hot chick.

“Uh, should we do something about that?” Ross asks.

“She’ll calm down. If we bug her, it will make it worse,” Mara answers, but she doesn’t look totally convinced. I can’t imagine how awkward this is to have her friend behaving like a drunk sorority girl at her husband’s stuffy event.

After a song or two, Sophie does tone it down, although it’s still pretty obvious she’s drunk off her ass. Hope’s invested in her conversation with another young, female attorney who joined their group, so I take the opportunity to duck in the men’s room.

As soon as I step out, I spot Sophie holding up the wall across from the bathrooms.

“You okay, Soph?”

She doesn’t seem surprised to see me. “You look really good tonight, Rock.”

And my danger radar starts pinging like crazy.

“Thanks. You need help getting back to the group?”

She sort of nods, then lurches away from the wall, stumbling against me. She’s a slight thing, so the impact barely registers, but I’m not comfortable having one of Hope’s b

est friends plastered to the front of my body either.

Especially when she reaches down and tries to squeeze my dick.

Jerking out of her reach, I grab both her wrists in one hand. “Sophie, you’re drunk.”

“I know. But you’re hot. I’m hot—”

I cut that nonsense off right away. “Sophie, you’re one of Hope’s best friends.”

She makes this mmmmmm noise. “Hope’s a good girl, Rock. I’m a dirty girl. I know you like dirty girls better.”

Jesus Christ, this is going to shit fast. For the first time in a long time, I don’t know what to do. I’m used to drunken scenes like this at the clubhouse. But that’s my domain, and I can handle it my way. Here, I don’t know what the fuck to do. If it was some random woman, I’d brush her off and walk away. But it’s Hope’s best friend, so I’m torn. Part of me wants to help her find Ross, and part of me wants to strangle her.

“Come on, let’s go find Ross,” I say, giving her a tug toward the party. I wish it wasn’t so fucking isolated back here. Is it too much to ask for someone to interrupt this cozy little nightmare?

“I don’t wanna,” she answers, sounding all of five years old. “Kiss me.”

Thankfully she’s so short, even in her heels she can’t reach my face, although she makes a drunken effort to climb my body. Pushing her off me and finally untangling myself, I decide to get the fuck away from Sophie. Yeah, I feel bad about it, but every second I let this go on, the potential for Hope to get hurt increases.

As soon as I reach the guys, I tap Ross. “Sophie’s back by the bathroom in a bad way.”

“Aw, shit. Thanks, man.” He pats me on the shoulder and takes off after Sophie. At least that’s taken care of and she’s not alone.

Hope spots me and flashes a smile before turning back to her conversation. Fuck. I don’t know what the fuck to do. Do I tell Hope and risk blowing up her friendship with Sophie, who might not even remember what happened tomorrow? I’m not worried about myself—I sure as fuck didn’t do anything wrong. What I am worried about is my girl getting hurt. Up until now, Sophie’s always been a good friend to Hope. I don’t want to be the one who ruins their relationship.