Dirty Trick (Perfectly Matched 1)

“That cluster is Cassiopeia,” he said, tracing a pattern of white light in the inky sky. “The goddess of war. She hunts wild boar with her bow and arrow to feed her army of warriors.”

“Wow, really?”

“No. Not really. I have no clue what that constellation is. Or who Cassiopeia is, for that matter.” He shrugged. “But I’m a gambling man. I figured you didn’t know either, and maybe I could impress you.” He rolled to his side and raised his brows. “Are you impressed?”

This time she laughed loudly, his favorite laugh. The one that shook her whole, curvy frame. The one he would have donned a goddamned jester’s cap and curly-tipped shoes to coax from her. What a f**king sap. Pussy-whipped beyond all recognition without ever having had a taste of the pussy. But even that knowledge didn’t stop the warmth in his chest from spreading.

She flipped onto her hip to face him and grinned. “Actually, I am kind of impressed. I couldn’t have come up with BS like that on the fly. You should be a lawyer. Or maybe you are?” She eyed him speculatively.

“Nope. Not even close. Nice try, though.” He tucked a curl behind her ear and leaned in close enough for that gardenia shampoo to tickle his nostrils. “I’m more of a hands-on kind of guy.” The wail of the horns in the background seemed louder, the music just a little sexier, as he waited to see if she was ready to take the bait.

“I see no evidence of that so far,” she whispered. Her dark eyes were huge, but her voice was sure now, ringing with resolve. “Show me.”

He instantly reverted back to age fourteen when he was lying on the dock with Melody Fenwick. White cotton bra in his hand, heart lodged in his throat, dick hard as a rock, thrust against his zipper. He really hoped the almighty did him a solid here and let him hold out for longer than he did then. Poor Melody had gone home that night with nothing more than a sticky hand and a sad tale. It had taken him a solid week to get her to give him another shot to make up for it. This time, there would be no second chances.

Then Gracie’s lips touched his, and his thoughts screeched to a halt. Soft and full, that pretty mouth he’d seen in his dreams so many times. Tentative at first, then bolder. Harder. Tension pooled in his groin, an ache building hot and fast. He took the kiss deeper, exploring her mouth with his tongue, diving a hand into that mass of black hair, anchoring her close.

She hummed, low in her throat, and he hummed back, shifting his body closer, lining up her soft parts to his hard ones. She responded instantly, plastering her plush br**sts against him, nipping at his bottom lip. He groaned, and she pulled back.

“Sorry. Am I hurting you?” she asked, eyes wide. “I won’t do it again.”

He wrapped his fist into her hair and drew her back to him. “Stop that. You’re breaking my heart here, love.” He closed his teeth over her lip, and she gasped. “Did that hurt?”

She shook her head and cleared her throat, but her words still came out thick and husky. “N-no.”

“Well, I’m a lot bigger and stronger than you are, so why would you think it would hurt me?”

She broke eye contact and nodded, almost to herself, before locking gazes with him again. “I guess I wasn’t sure. But let me know if I do anything weird that you don’t like, okay?”

It wasn’t like she was a virgin. He knew she’d had a live-in fiancé before she’d moved from California to Salem, so surely they’d been sleeping together. Why would a little nip send her into a fit of nerves? He set that question aside for later consideration and ran a hand through her hair.

“Will do. But don’t hold your breath. I don’t think there’s much you could want to do to me that I wouldn’t like.” Tipping his head closer, he kissed her again, putting every ounce of want into it, hoping that was enough to wipe all the doubts away. It took a minute, but then she sank into him, molding herself against him.

He pulled back slightly, and she protested until he sent a questing hand down the front of her oh-so-tiny corset top and cupped the fullness of her breast.

“Oh,” she murmured arching forward. His c**k bucked hard, and he cursed the very same scrap of fitted silk that he’d just been praising in his mind. It looked great, but he needed skin. Bare flesh to touch, and suck, and bite.

He traced the line of hooks that spanned from her cl**vage to hip level and groaned. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he rolled to the side, carrying her with him until she was on her back again, staring up at him with those big eyes.

“Put your hands up and let your legs go,” he demanded.

She grimaced when she realized she’d had him wrapped up tight, like a starfish on an oyster. “I’m sooo sorry. I—”

“Why do you keep doing that?” He asked, hoping he sounded less exasperated than he felt. He wasn’t frustrated with her, but was pissed as hell at the man before him who’d made her feel this way.

“Doing what?”

“Apologizing. Second guessing yourself. You’re about the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, and your instincts are balls-on accurate. Do what feels good, and you can never go wrong with me, okay? Short of calling in some goats armed with lube, there’s nothing you can do to freak me out or scare me away. I only had you let me go so I could touch you.”

He’d known that Victor had f**ked with her head, but he’d never asked exactly how, and she’d never offered much in the way of explanation. He’d always thought it was the surface stuff. Like when he told her that she should get liposuction on her hips, or that her laugh was too loud, or that he wished she looked more like this actress or that model. Sneaky little digs that, over time, had taken a toll on her self-esteem.

What he hadn’t realized until exactly this second was that he’d also made her doubt herself sexually.

“Old habits.” She wet her lips. “But I’ll stop.” She slowly let her arms drift up, over her head. “Is this what you wanted me to do?”

The move thrust her br**sts forward, almost to the point that they were a sneeze away from busting right out of the top of her corset, and he found himself wishing for some pepper. Not likely to materialize, so he’d have to use good old-fashioned ingenuity.

He sank back on his knees and studied the tiny hooks for a long moment before nodding. No problem. He had this on lock. He dipped down to kiss the swell of both br**sts before he went to work, gently freeing each hook with a flick of his thumbs. When he got to her ribs, she took a deep breath, and the two panels of fabric separated to reveal her breasts.

“Even more gorgeous than I ever imagined.” He realized dimly that that sounded weird coming from a stranger, but it was too late to retract and, judging by the look on her face, she either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared.

“I’m glad you think so.” Her smile wasn’t one like a cat that had gotten the canary, or even one of pride. She was genuinely delighted that he was digging her body, and again, it had him wondering exactly how big of a prick Victor had been. And just how blind. Part of him wanted to thank him for not being man enough to hang onto her, but the bigger part wanted to bust him right in the chops.

He paused in his efforts to get her top off and traced his forefinger over her collar bone down to her cleavage. Spreading his hand wide, he veered right and covered her whole, naked breast in his hand, his entire body tightening when her stiff nipple poked his palm insistently.

“That—,” she gasped, “feels so good.”

He repeated the gesture on the other side and tried not to blow his load right there when he realized that, after all this time, he was straddling Gracie’s thighs, hands full of her glorious tits, and he was about to do a whole lot more.

But not if they sat here with most of their clothes on.

“I’m going to lock the doors, okay?” he rasped.

“Yes. Hurry up, though.”

Like she needed to tell him. They were both ready to get down to serious business, and he found himself wishing he actually was Batman so he could yank a tool from his utility belt and throw it across the room to secure the doors.

He rolled to his feet to lock the side door before crossing over to the main sliding pocket-doors. His world crumbled as he stared at them. No. Fucking. Latches. Only the fact that he knew she was watching him kept him from banging his head on the wood in frustration.

“We can’t do this here.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. The charred remains of broken, dirty dreams. “Only the side door locks. Anyone could come in at any time.” The room he’d thought had been a godsend had been nothing more than a twisted mirage.

Motherfucker.

He quickly ran through his options and had settled on asking if she wanted to find a spare bedroom, when she derailed his thoughts with three little words.

“I don’t care.”

…

“I don’t want to stop,” she whispered. His gaze shot to hers, and she chewed her lip for a second before working up a brave smile. “Let’s go into the sauna. No windows or anything in there, and we can hear if someone comes into this room.”

He didn’t hesitate, scooping her up into her arms. She squealed and latched onto his neck. “I’m too heavy. Put me down, I can walk!”

“You’re a buck-thirty, max, and I could carry two of you, so pipe down.”

He kicked open the sauna door and stepped in, setting her down on the cedar floor. The scent of wood and mint hung in the air.

“Let’s turn it on,” she whispered.

He fiddled with the dial until the steamer in the corner started to make noise. “It’s going to get pretty hot in here.”

“That’s okay. I like it hot.”

His slow grin made her initial embarrassment at the unintentionally brazen words melt away. He’d been telling the truth. He wanted her to be herself. He wanted her to tell him what she wanted and what she liked.

Maybe he even liked dirty talk.

She swallowed hard and hoped the sound of the steam whistling covered the resulting gulp. Might as well let it rip.

“Yeah. I want your c—” It stuck in her throat, and she tried again. “I want your big c—” Again, she couldn’t work it past her lips. He stared at her with a puzzled but patient smile. “I want your cock…a doodly doo…in-inside my p—…lady area…business.” She expelled in a rush.

Oh God, no. What was that?

“I mean—” She started to sweat, and shook her head violently. “That’s not what I meant.” Jesus, who had turned the heat on in here? She couldn’t look at him, sure he was laughing at her or having a serious internal debate about tearing ass out the door and leaving her in the sauna alone with her crazy.

But she was wrong. He chucked her chin until she looked up at him, tears of shame clouding her vision. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to do, please yourself or me, but either way, I appreciate the try. And,” he leaned in low, tipping his hips against hers until she felt the thick evidence of his want, “I concur with the sentiment. There is nothing I want more than to be inside your lady area business.”

She was tempted to slump in relief, but the feeling of him lodged against her belly was too delicious to give up. If he wanted honesty, she was all about it. And right now, she honestly wanted to get her hands on that beef.

She lifted a tentative finger to his belt buckle and let it drift lower, until the ridge beneath his khakis became undeniable. She cupped him then, gently at first, and then harder. Hard enough that he jerked, but not away. Closer.

“That’s f**king nice, Grace.” His voice was so low and deep, he sounded more Darth Vader than caped crusader now, and the tingles shimmered even brighter until her whole body felt like it was made of light.

She stroked the length of him, up and down, in a firm caress, and he let out a hiss.