Playing Dirty
Nice men don’t want this.
Then maybe he wasn’t a nice man.
“Coming?” Arching an eyebrow at him, Beth turned and started to walk in the direction of the motel. He couldn’t have stopped himself from following.
The small rectangle of parking lot was bordered on three sides with rooms. He’d been assigned to room twelve, and when he’d checked in earlier he’d been unimpressed by the cheap floral bedspread, the rough green carpet and the dated lighting, though at least the place was clean. Now he noticed nothing but Beth as she kicked the door closed behind them, seating herself on the edge of the bed and looking up at him with a hint of mockery in those insanely blue eyes.
He wanted to fist his hands in the long waves of her hair and taste her lips again, to touch her until she was breathless and all traces of that mockery were gone. He wanted to flip her over and bury himself inside her.
He needed to get a grip, needed to take the control back. So far she’d hinted at what she wanted but had been the one in the driver’s seat.
No more.
“Do you like wine?” The hinges on the small minifridge whined as he opened it. Earlier he’d refrigerated a bottle of the best chardonnay he could find at the tiny grocery store on the corner. He was stymied when he realized that he didn’t have a corkscrew.
Frustration mounted. He was supposed to be in charge here. Why couldn’t he grab hold of it?
“Need this?” Not bothering to hide her grin at his discomfort, Beth opened the bedside drawer. There, next to a worn copy of the Bible, was a waiter’s corkscrew.
“Spend much time here?” He held back a growl of frustration as he took the offered tool, expertly pulling the cork from the bottle of wine. There were so many feelings, so many sensations pressing on his chest from the inside out that he couldn’t even raise an eyebrow at the fact that he was pouring the pricey wine into water glasses.
“I’ve been here before, yes.” Beth took the glass from his hand. Lifting it to her nose, she inhaled, then looked up at him. “And probably for exactly the reason you’re thinking. Does that bother you?”
Did it bother him? The idea of her with other men?
He wanted her, but he didn’t know her. He shouldn’t care what she’d done before.
He didn’t care for the thought of other men touching her when his own cock was aching to be between her soft thighs.
“Drink your wine.” Deliberately, he refrained from answering her question. Crossing in front of her, he watched as she took a sip, puzzled by the expression that crossed her lips after she’d sipped. “What is it?”
“I’m more of a beer girl.” Lips twitching, she set the glass aside. Then she crawled to her knees on the bed, making herself right at home. Rising so that she was almost at eye level with him, she looped her arms around his neck and ran her tongue over her lips. “But I’m not here for a drink.”
“What are you here for, then?” Reaching behind his head, he caught her hands in his own, holding her there. He countered her direct stare with one of his own, triumph surging when she broke, looking away first.
“Well, Sir Lassiter.” Licking her lips again, she tried to pull back, her breath catching when he held tight, keeping her in place, her breasts almost brushing across his chest. “I think we’ve established that there’s chemistry here. I’m here to see what you want to do about it.”
His control snapped, the last whisper of wariness evaporating in a sizzle of flame. Sir. That mocking mouth, calling him sir.
He didn’t want to analyze why he wanted her or why he shouldn’t. He didn’t want to hold back.
“I—” Still, the words stuck in his throat, even as his hands slid along her upper arms, over her back, tracing a line down her spine.
“I think you told me you had something for my smart mouth to do.” Arching into his touch like a kitten in the sun, she fisted her hands in the hem of her top, lifting it up and over her head. He broke his hold long enough for her to toss it to the ground, then groaned when he saw what had been hiding beneath.
Her breasts were perfect. A little more than a handful, soft globes that sat high on her slender torso. The bra she wore was black lace, a pattern that let him clearly see the outline of full pink nipples beneath. One was pierced through with a small silver bar, and the sight of that naughty bit of jewelry, rubbing against the lace, was sexy as hell.
He wanted to place his cock between those sweet curves and let go.
Real men didn’t do that.
She noticed his hesitation. Making a sound somewhere between a hum and a sigh, she cupped his cheeks in her hands, forcing him to look right at her.
Like he could look anywhere else.
“Look.” Her eyes searched his face, and there wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in the blue depths. “I’m here because I’m pretty sure that we want the same thing—a night of incredibly hot sex. Dirty sex. Why don’t you stop thinking so hard and just let go?”
God, she was demanding. He didn’t usually like that, either, but at her words, something inside him surged to life—all of the wants that he usually kept buried down deep.
She had made it clear that this was what she wanted. What would the harm be in letting himself revel in it for just one night?
“This mouth of yours.” Dipping his head again, he brushed his lips over hers, taking the kiss deep fast. His tongue probed at the seam of her lips, and she opened for him, humming with approval as he stroked it over hers. “I think I had something for it to do.”
“I think you did,” she agreed, planting her hands on his pec muscles. She squeezed a tiny bit, scoring him lightly with her nails as her hands traveled down. Stroking over his stomach, she hooked her fingers in the waist of his suit pants.
“Mmm.” Her touch brushed over the head of his cock, which was fully erect and caught in the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Yes, I think we very much want the same thing. Unless you’re this happy about something else.”
“I’ll be happier when you do what you’re told.” Had he really just said that? He’d been raised in Boston society. The women he usually dated would be horrified. He might have even gotten slapped.
Beth just grinned.
His stomach muscles quivered when she undid the button at his waistband, then slid the zipper down. The metallic rasp grated at air that was suddenly thick with tension. With need.
He tugged at his pants, pulling them down around his hips. His cock sprang free, and, going on instinct, he took his shaft in his fist.
“That’s a good look for you, Sir Lassiter.” Pushing him away from the bed with a gentle shove on his hips, she slid to the floor. Rising to her knees, she rested her palms on the tops of his thighs. “I bet this is a good one for me.”
Lust centered in his groin, a physical ache. When was the last time he’d had a woman on her knees for the sole purpose of sucking his cock? High school, probably. He enjoyed getting head, but he never demanded that a woman get on her knees for him. It was one of those things he wanted so badly that he didn’t dare let himself ask. That he assumed a woman did only because she wanted to please, not because she got anything out of it.
Looking down at Beth on her knees, her lips wet and ready, he knew that she was getting just as much out of this as he was.
Their stares locked as he slid a hand into her hair. Massaging her scalp, he guided her head forward until her lips brushed the head of his cock.
They both shuddered. Before he could take a breath, her fingers joined his, wrapping around the length of his shaft.
Her mouth closed around him, a hot, wet embrace. She sucked him in, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head.
He never let himself play like this, edging onto something shadowy that both tempted and terrified him.
But it felt so damn good.
“You’re good at that.” His voice was raw. She looked up at him, and though he couldn’t see a smirk on her lips, it was there in her eyes. He couldn’t help but grin in return. “Of course, sassy as you are, I’m probably not the first to want to keep it occupied.”
As if he’d challenged her, she slid her hand down his shaft, nudging his fingers out of the way. She worked him up and down with a tight grip as she took him deeper into the silky heaven that was her mouth.
His free hand joined the one fisted in her hair, and soon he was helping to guide her movements as she worked his shaft. Pleasure started to build at the base of his spine, and his hips started to thrust.
He needed to stop her before he came in her mouth. Needed to see to her pleasure first. He wanted to make her come before he took her, wanted her weak and wrecked because of what he did to her.
He wasn’t at all expecting her to cup his balls in one hand and tug gently. Her nails scored a light path over the tender seam, something no one had ever done to him before, and he saw stars.
“Beth. Beth!” He tried to pull her head back. She hummed around him, the vibration working through his cock, and scraped those nails gently over his seam again. “Oh, fuck.”
His release shot from his very core. He pulsed into her mouth, and rather than being repelled, she wrapped her lips around him tightly and swallowed him down. He watched the lines of her throat, transfixed.
Who the hell was this unearthly creature? And where had she been hiding his whole life?
She continued to lick him as he softened against her tongue, finally letting him slide from her mouth. The air of the room was cool after her heat.
Panting, he took a moment to simply look down at her, searching her features for some hint of discomfort.
Instead she grinned up at him, then climbed back up onto the bed. Crawling across it on her hands and knees, she sat back on her heels and looked over her shoulder at him as she undid her bra and tossed it aside.
“My turn.”
CHAPTER FIVE
WHY WOULDN’T HE just let go?
The man was a caged beast, his dominance rattling the bars. Beth couldn’t understand why, after all the reassurances she’d given him, he seemed to think he still needed to hold back.
She huffed out a breath of surprise when he caught the bra she’d just tossed aside.
“Nice reflexes.” She smirked at him, wondering if she was going to have to keep hold of that dark edge of his all night to keep it from sliding back beneath the surface. She exhaled sharply when he lifted the scrap of black lace and let it dangle.
“I like this.” He tossed it to the floor, then with a move she didn’t see coming, pulled at her feet, making her tumble to the bed. He rolled her so that she was lying across the bed face up, and then he was straddling her hips.
His cock still hung free, swollen, red and damp from her mouth. Her stare moved between it and the way he was undoing the front of his shirt, each button revealing another inch of rock-solid torso.
He’d been hiding one hell of a body beneath that suit. Whatever he did for work that required that suit, he countered it with some serious sweat at the gym.
She wasn’t about to complain.
His expression was so intense as he looked down at her that she almost—almost—felt the urge to cover her naked breasts. The piercing through her right nipple. She didn’t, though, instead waiting to see what he would do. If she would have to prod him, or if he would let go.
“Do the bottoms match the top?” With a wicked grin, he worked a hand underneath her, sliding up along the back of her thigh to cup her ass beneath the abbreviated hem of her cutoffs. He squeezed, and she pressed into the sensation of her bare skin in his palm.
“Doesn’t seem to be much of them, whether they match or not.” He moved his hand around to the front of her hip, then to the crease where her thigh met her torso. He grazed the silky fabric of the thong she’d changed into along with this outfit, and she let out a shaky moan.
“Lift.” The cutoffs slid down easily when he tugged. Leaving them at midthigh, he sat back on his heels and took his time looking her over.
“They do match.” He arched an eyebrow, and she felt flushed everywhere his stare traveled—her breasts, her belly, her hips, her thighs. Her center. “I didn’t think they would.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing.” She wanted to part her thighs, to feel his weight between them, but with the shorts still halfway down her legs, she couldn’t. “You seem like the type to send full sets of matching lingerie to your girlfriends. Garters, stockings and all.”
“Oh, it’s a horrible thing,” he agreed. With steady movements, he tugged the shorts the rest of the way down her legs. Propping herself up on her elbows, she reached for the zipper on one of her boots, but he stopped her with a raised eyebrow.
“The boots stay on.” He worked the shorts down over the leather that stretched all the way up over each knee. “But those matching panties have to go.”
“Obviously,” she agreed, her voice breathy as he tugged the scrap of fabric down to her ankles, then helped her free each foot. Letting the thong fall to the floor, he surprised her by tugging her across the bedspread until her ass was flush with the edge of the bed.
Oh, yes. Her thighs quivered at what was to come. This was going to be good.
Some men didn’t like dropping to their knees for a woman, but Ford did so as he did everything—with confidence. Hell, even when she damn well knew that he was holding back from really delving into that streak of dominance that kept slipping out of him, he still carried himself with ease. A man who was sure of his place in the world.
Beth was comfortable with herself, but her place in the world still hadn’t been defined. His confidence drew her like a bee to pollen.
Arching her back, she tilted her head, enjoying the sensation of her hair against the heated skin of her back before letting herself fall back to the mattress. When he closed his large hands around the insides of her thighs, she sucked in a breath and shut her eyes.
“You keep those eyes open.” He squeezed, the pads of his fingers digging into her skin. She did as he said, looking down the length of her naked body to where he knelt. He’d tugged his pants back up around his hips but left them undone. She could see the head of his cock, which was on its way to hard again, sliding out the slit of his boxer briefs.
His taste was still on her tongue, and yet her mouth watered. She wanted everything he had to offer.
“Eyes open,” he reminded her sharply when her eyelids started to flutter again. “I want those eyes on me. Want you looking at me when you come, fully aware of just who it is that’s making you feel so good.”
“I’m not likely to forget.” She let out a shaky laugh that quickly turned into a moan when he slapped that same soft skin.
She thought he would talk more, would continue with those dirty little words that seemed so strange coming from a man like him and yet suited him perfectly. Instead he pushed her thighs open wider, catching one ankle and arranging one of her legs over his shoulder.
She quivered as she waited for that first touch of his tongue, his breath fanning hot and damp over her folds. She caught his gaze as he lowered his head, and the intensity in those stormy eyes took her breath away.
He could deny it all he wanted, but the bossiness suited him. Dominance suited him. And if he’d just grab hold of it with both hands, he could blow both of their minds.
His mouth descended. He pressed a hot, openmouthed kiss to the cleft between her legs, and she shifted her hips beneath him. Nuzzling his nose between her folds, he licked her from top to bottom, then bottom to top, and a soft cry escaped her lips.
“You’re wet. Soaking.” He swirled that tongue around her clit. “You liked sucking my cock, didn’t you?”
She moaned, then cried out when he delivered a light slap to her inner thigh again. “Answer me.”
“Yes, I liked sucking your cock.” Her voice was hoarse, her hips undulating beneath his attentions. “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t.”
“No, I don’t think you would have,” he agreed, pulling away just long enough to look at her. She protested, her hands sliding down to tangle in his hair. “I doubt very much that you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I don’t.” She raised her hips. “God, go back to what you were doing.”
“Hmm.” He hummed against her, and the vibrations traveled to her belly, which was knotted tightly. “What part of it do you like, I wonder? The actual cock sucking? Or pleasing your partner?”
She parted her lips, trying to gather her thoughts enough to formulate an answer, but it seemed that his question was rhetorical. He pressed his mouth to her flesh again, but this time it was with an intensity that stole her breath.
When she’d flirted with him earlier, at her shop, she’d thought she would have to be the one to seduce him. The one to convince a man in a suit to take a walk on the wild side.
As he slid a finger inside her and continued to circle her clit with his tongue, she admitted that she wasn’t the one doing the seducing. And she was just fine with that.
“Fuck, yes.” He flicked his tongue over her clit, and she felt the shock of sensation all the way to her toes. “Right there. More.”
“Greedy girl.” He chuckled as she tried to close her legs to get away from the sensation, and at the same time arched her hips to meet his mouth. “I like it.”
Pulling his finger out of her slippery folds, he surged back in, this time with two. He scissored them inside her, stretching her swollen tissues, and Beth felt the tension inside her start to coil tighter and tighter.
“That’s it.” He slapped her inner thigh again, right in the same place. The skin there was starting to burn, in the best possible way. It heightened the pleasure that was threatening to break. “You’re going to come for me, right now. If you do, then I’ll give you my cock.”
“God.” No, this man certainly didn’t need to be seduced. The more she writhed against him, the filthier that look on his face got. It was like he’d been covered in a fine sheen of ice—colorless and tasteless, it had still only given her an impression of the man beneath. His orgasm had shattered that ice, and now she was getting glimpses of the full thing.
The real thing.
And she liked it.
She ached to see it all.
“Come on.” He scraped his teeth over her clit again, and the wave inside her rose higher and higher. “Let go.”
He crooked the two fingers inside her, rubbing them over a spot that made her see stars. At the same time he used his other hand to rub roughly over the skin he’d smacked, reigniting the burn. It was that burn that made the wave finally crest. Beth cried out, Ford’s name tumbling from her lips as she shook around him, grinding her face into his mouth.
He licked her through the shudders, sending her reeling into an aftershock. When the waves finally ebbed, she lay back on the bed panting, a sheen of sweat trying to cool her feverish skin.
“You’re awfully good at that.”
“She wiped a hand over her brow.
“I’m good at lots of things.” He stood, and she struggled to prop herself up on her limp arms so that she could see him. He stood at the end of the bed with his shirt open, his pants around his hips and intent in his eyes.
It was a good look.
She watched, her mouth dry, as he peeled the shirt away from that defined chest. It fell to the floor as he hooked his hands in the waistband of his suit pants, slowly pulling them down. His cock, now fully erect again, popped free, and she couldn’t help but suck in a breath.
Most men stripped themselves out of their clothes as fast as possible. She usually did the same, so she’d never found cause to complain. It had never even occurred to her that watching a man disrobe could be so hot.
Ford knew exactly what he was doing to her. He knew just how good he looked. And damn if the arrogance on his face wasn’t hot as hell.
He let his pants fall to the floor, kicking them to the side. He stood there completely naked, smirking as she looked her fill.
Yeah, he knew she liked what she saw.
“You look awfully pleased with yourself,” she managed to pant as she crawled backward on the bed. She swallowed hard when he placed one knee, then the other, on the bed. He closed the distance between them quickly, and she expected him to range his lean body out on top of hers. Instead he placed his hands on her shoulders, stroked them down to cup her breasts. She arched into the touch, rising up on her knees to offer herself to him.
“I’ve just made a sexy woman scream my name,” he replied, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples with a soft touch that only made her crave more. “What’s not to be pleased about?”
He caught her piercing in the fingers of one hand, rolling it. The pleasure snapped through her as he explored the silver bar, growling out a sound of pleasure that told her how much he liked it.
“I’m going to play with this more later,” he promised, dipping his head to run his tongue over the bar and her nipple in one slow lick. Then with swift movements, he released her breasts, sliding his hands down to her waist. Grasping the soft curves tightly, he rolled her, settling himself with his back to the headboard. Her knees were on either side of his, straddling his lap, and she gasped as her wet, swollen cleft pressed against his erection.
“I’ll be more pleased when you ride my cock.” His voice was low enough that she had to duck her head to hear him.
“I like the way you talk to me.” God, did she ever. It made her hotter, wetter than she could ever remember being.
Something sparked in the brown of those wraithlike eyes, and she responded to it. Lifting her arms, she looped them around his neck, and she watched as his stare tracked along the colorful ink that ran from her wrists to her shoulders.
“Why have you chosen to mark yourself like this?” She stiffened for a moment, but there was no censure in his voice. Just curiosity. It made her relax. She truly didn’t care if other people didn’t like her ink, but it still pissed her off when they judged her for it.
Yes, she had tattoos. She also had a brain. A family. A business. The ink on her skin was just one small part of her.
Ford wasn’t judging her, though she’d bet her nonexistent funds that he’d never been so up close and personal with inked skin before.
“Two reasons.” Her voice was husky, and she paused to clear her throat. “First. My sister Amy is a tattoo artist. When she started getting into it, my sisters and I were all drawn toward marking things that are important to us on our skin. Claiming it, I guess.”
Releasing him with one hand, she trailed her newly free fingers over her oldest tattoo, which slithered across her left forearm. It read Music Soothes the Savage Beast. She’d gotten it at eighteen, when she’d been full of emotions she didn’t understand and the only thing that had assuaged them were the hours that she spent at the battered old piano in their house.
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