The Price of Grace (Black Ops Confidential 2)

“Way to avoid the question. And yeah, I ate one.” He licked a too-pink tongue across his lips. “Thought about you as I sucked on it.”

Whoa. The statement and the sweet Southern sex dripping from his voice stimulated every hormone in her body. She needed him and that tongue closer. “You have to have sex with me.”

His eyebrows shot up. Whoops. Had she, his boss for all intents and purposes, just ordered him to have sex with her? Lowering her head, she squeezed her eyes closed tight. “I mean, that didn’t sound right. Of course, you have a choice.”

She raised her head. Dusty? Where did he—

She grabbed the sides of her barstool as it spun. Dusty stood before her, staring down at her, a little too serious, a little too close, a lot too hot. “Got a choice, do I?”

He leaned in. “Pretty obvious to me the only person here who needs a clear choice is you, so I’m going to ask. Knowing all the things you suspect about me, about why I’m here, are you really, really sure you want to sleep with me, Ms. Gracie Parish?”

Oh. Man. He was not messing around. His breath was warm and sweet against her face.

Gracie, you need to say no. Tell him you don’t sleep with the enemy or something equally self-righteous.

“I haven’t been with a man in eighteen months.”

That wasn’t self-righteous. That was an invitation.

He smiled, a smile full of promise. “Got me beat. It’s been six months. But at least I’m clean.”

Six months? Why did that turn her on so much? She hooked her feet around his legs, pulled him closer. “I’m clean too. And on the pill.”

He let out a breath that was part moan, and she caught his lips as he dipped his head toward hers. She slipped her tongue into his sultry, eager mouth and reveled in the taste of him.

Tugging her T-shirt free from the waist of her jeans, his hand snaked under and cupped her breast. They groaned simultaneously. The sound vibrated against their tangled tongues. Now. This had to happen. Now.

They came up for air, the smell of whiskey in her nostrils, and their labored breaths loud in her ears. She needed him inside her. But not here.

Dusty moved his mouth up to her ear. “Upstairs?”

She couldn’t take him upstairs where she kept the servers for her family’s operations. He’d all but admitted he was investigating them. Mood killer.

She shook her head. His eyebrows rose. He looked around the bar, as if judging the strength of the tables or the softness of the chaises. Maybe…Um. No.

Dusty, as perceptive as he was hot, reached behind her and grabbed his keys from the tray where he’d put them earlier. He jingled them. “My place is real close.”

“Text me the address. I’ll meet you there.”

Chapter 33

Driving through the deserted streets of what the locals called The Borough, Dusty answered his cell on the first ring. Gracie’s voice came through the car’s speakers as soft and sexy as the whisper of lingerie against skin. “I’ve been dreaming about having you in my mouth.”

Holy… He grew hard enough to split denim. Least that’s the way it felt. “I like where this is going. What do I feel like in those dreams?”

“Thick and hard.” She certainly had him headed in the right direction. She paused, and he bet she was every shade of red. He couldn’t wait to see how deep he could get that red to go.

“I dream of taking the tip of you in, sucking, and using my hand to stroke you while I take all of you into my mouth.”

Lord. There were way too many lights on this street. His johnson began to hurt. He shifted, pulled at his jeans. “Just inside your mouth?”

“No. Other places too. But in my fantasies, I have a fondness for sucking you off.”

“Good to know.” Seriously. She was killing him.

“I have this thing about wanting to give a blowjob on my knees. That’s probably kind of submissive and not feminist at all. But I’ve actually never tried it.”

Never? He gunned his car through the yellow. Who designed this street? A light every ten feet. “Gracie, hun, I’m all about making your wishes come true.”

She laughed, low and pleased. “I’m so wet just thinking about it. Thinking about you sliding into my mouth, sliding between my legs, and then pumping into me fast and hard. I want to see you lose control.”

He was getting dizzy from lack of blood flow to his brain. “Darlin’, I’m not sure my insurance will cover collision-by-boner.”

She laughed again. “I’m here.”

She drove like a maniac. Thank the good Lord. “That’s a good sign.”

“It is?”

“Yep. I intend to make sure that isn’t the last time tonight you get where you’re going before me.”

He pulled up a minute behind her.

* * *

There was one major problem that Dusty could think of as he led Gracie up the wooden fire escape to his apartment’s private entrance. The ducks.

No grown woman wanted to have sex while google-eyed ducks peered down at everything. And the things he intended to do to her required she be comfortable with vulnerability. Not happening if she got a look at that awful mural. Judgy ducks.

Checking that the wireless alarm he’d installed hadn’t been tampered with, he unlocked and opened the door. Gracie peered inside, then at him. “It’s kind of dark.”

He grasped her hand and pulled her in after him. “I’m sensitive about the lights.”

Kicking the door closed with the toe of his boot, he pulled her close. They came together like fire and gasoline. His lips found hers and laid claim with kisses as long, hot, and needy as what he’d soon be pushing deep inside her.

Her soft fingers fumbled under his shirt, ran hungry nails along his abs, back, down to the waist of his jeans.

She startled, realizing the entire head of his johnson was poking out from the waist of his jeans. “Oh.”

This woman out and out murdered him. “Impressed?”

She rubbed the tip, the moisture there. Fuck. His eyes rolled back in his head.

“Very,” she breathed. “In my office… I hadn’t…” She trailed off, unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped, put her hand around his length, stroked as if to convince herself that was all him. He thrust into her hand. She made a small whimpering sound.

He bent and nuzzled her ear. “That makes two of us.”

“Strip,” she said and, squeezing him tight, added, “Hurry.”

She let him go and he sprang to action, pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it into the room, stripped off boots, and stepped from his jeans like he was hot-footing it across a black-sand beach in July. Not fast enough. She was already naked.

Soft lights from outside filtered through the blinds, revealing the curves of a body so ripe and beautiful, he swore the nine choirs of angels themselves sang along with him. Hallelujah.

Those breasts, hips. Thighs. The gentle V of her… Lord. She was perfect.

He had to… He sank to his knees, wrapped his arms around her, palmed each cheek of that fine ass, and put his hot, needy mouth to her center.

She gasped.

He moaned against her. She was as sweet as she was soft, slick, and salty. He licked her, growing painfully hard with every flick of his tongue against her clit. She grabbed his shoulders for support and made soft moaning sounds that quickly turned into sharp, needy cries.

Was there any sweeter sound than the desperate moans of this woman while he went down on her? Nothing. He wanted more of that. As much as he wanted to have the heat currently against his mouth around his dick.

That knowledge made him crazed as he teased and stroked, licked and sucked. Releasing the grip he had on her fine ass, he slipped a hand between her cheeks, slid fingers forward, crooked one, two inside her. So fucking soft and wet.

“

Oh, that…”

He picked up the pace. She let out a low, throaty moan. The fingers on his other hand slipped back and forth against that smooth skin that led to her ass. He slipped one inside the tightness there.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. She rocked her hot silkiness against his eager tongue, writhed against his quick, exploring fingers. “Yes. Please. Oh, please.”

He could feel her tension building, feel as this perfect woman reached that perfect point, felt… She cried out, screamed his name as the orgasm took her.