Dark Romance Collection: A Sexy, Dark Bundle

by Huntington, Parker S.

  I trace circles over his chest. The sparse hair, the sheer size of him. He’s filled out since the last time we were like this. He’s grown, and so have I—not only my breasts and my hips. I’m a woman now, and a woman chooses her own path.

  Blue is my path.

  His eyes are dark. “I’ve taken care of him. I can tell you how, but—”

  A sound of protest escapes my throat before I can rein it in.

  His smile is wry, so much like the teenager from all those years ago that my heart squeezes. “All you need to know is that he’s been invited to leave the city. I very much think he will. He doesn’t have a job or a fiancée here anymore.”

  It feels like a shadow is over me, from Travis and my past. From everything I’ve done. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

  “I fucking did. That’s what you don’t understand. It’s not a choice. You’re a compulsion for me. A goddamn obsession. Even back then, I would have clawed my way back to you except that I—”

  “Except what?”

  He presses his lips together, and I know he’s said more than he meant to. “Except that I thought you didn’t want me. I thought you wanted that. I fucking believed you.”

  I flinch, because he’s still angry about that.

  His eyebrows furrow. “No, gorgeous, not like that. I fucking believed you instead of protecting you. I let you send me away just to keep me from pounding him into the ground. I would have done it too. But I thought you wanted him. I would have done anything to make you happy. Even let him live.”

  His words are harsh and primal and strangely beautiful. He cups my head in his hands and kisses me, lips devouring mine, tongue insistent.

  “You’re gorgeous.” He plants kisses on my cheeks, my forehead, my mouth—and starts all over again. The word that had once been an insult has become a form of worship. “Gorgeous for protecting me. Gorgeous for sacrificing yourself. Gorgeous for forgiving me.”

  I pull back. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  “I left you there.” He closes his eyes as if remembering. “And then I came back, like a fucking pit bull, snarling at you every chance I had. And you forgave me for that, every time, didn’t you?”

  My eyes are hot with tears I can’t hold back. “It wasn’t even a question.”

  “You knew.” His voice is rough. “You knew I came back for you. Even when I hated you. Even when I thought you fucking hated me. I couldn’t stay away.”

  I can’t answer him, can’t do anything but return his kisses—on the slashes of his cheeks, on the plane of his forehead. On the angry line of his mouth. I don’t stop there. I kiss the stubble of his jaw and his Adam’s apple. I kiss my way down his chest, stopping only to lick a flat copper nipple. He grunts in answer, his body shifting to press his erection against my leg.

  I have more kisses to give him, five years of them. One for his abs and another for the indent pointing down. One for the tip of his cock.

  “Fuck.”

  He’s fucked my mouth before, he’s made me suck him off, but we’ve never done this. He’s lying flat, exposed to me, his cock standing both proud and vulnerable. I take him in my fist and my mouth. I suck him deep until he’s groaning, until he’s thrusting wild and without rhythm.

  Until he’s shooting into the back of my throat, fists tangled in the sheets. The tendons in his neck stand out as his whole upper body lifts off the bed. His whole body is a picture of agony, writhing and desperate. The groan he makes raises the hairs on my neck—an animal sound of defeat.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Sugar?”

  “Please,” I say, pulling the small ceramic sugar pot from the box.

  Mrs. Owens uses the tongs to add a cube of sugar to her tea and mine. Tanglewood Home has done a lot to make Mrs. Owens comfortable, but they drew the line at installing a large glass cabinet for her antique teapot sets. So I bring a complete set every time I visit.

  Blue enters just as I’m taking a sip. His expression softens even though we’ve only been apart ten minutes. “They said the larger room just opened up. She can move in early next week.”

  “Oh, that’s great.” I make a face. “Or maybe we shouldn’t be celebrating.”

  Blue says nothing, just kisses the top of my head as he sits beside me—confirming that someone did have to die for her to get the room. It makes sense, considering where we are. It makes sense wherever we are. Death has always followed me, from the time I was too young to understand.

  That hasn’t changed now that I have Blue by my side. He’s a killer and a soldier. He’s a fighter in every sense of the word. And I love him just the way he is.

  “Are you okay?” he asks quietly. He’s really asking how Mrs. Owens is doing today.

  She can hear us, but she isn’t listening. Her eyes are far away, the cup clattering against the saucer as her hands tremble. I take them from her gently and set them on the table. In a few minutes she’ll come back to us. The moments happen more frequently, but they bother me less. As long as she’s happy and comfortable, then I am too.

  “I was just telling her about your new company.”

  He stretches his legs and leans back on the sofa. He wraps his arm around me, the picture of a relaxed male. I’m glad he comes with me to these visits. I didn’t even have to beg—or fuck him, which was Candy’s helpful suggestion. Of course, we mostly do that every night anyway.

  Sometimes mornings too.

  “Think I can cut it?” he asks.

  I roll my eyes. I can’t help but smile. “If you get scared, you can always come to me for help.”

  He’s just digging for compliments. Only weeks after putting feelers out for security services, he had a full roster of clients. Apparently being skilled and stone-cold in the military had earned him a reputation. It turned out he hated working at the club more than I did—but he insisted on watching over me. Only when I quit did he consider leaving too.

  Ivan is a little pissed to lose his head of security, but he was the first one to sign the contract with Blue Security to staff and train the bouncers at his club.

  “You should,” Mrs. Owens says suddenly. “Hannah’s the strongest person I know.”

  My eyes heat with tears. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  A trembling hand covers mine. “The strong ones never think they are. They’re too busy surviving.”

  And I think that just might be true. It’s definitely true for Blue. He knows he’s strong physically—skilled with his fists and with guns. He made himself that way so he’d never be kicked around again.

  He doesn’t always know he’s strong inside. He thinks that part of him was crushed long ago, that he’s been dead inside for five years. I know different. He was waiting—just like me.

  I take his hand in mine, and for a brief moment all three of us are connected, the past and the present and hope for the future. Then Mrs. Owens smiles blandly and turns to Blue as if she’s just noticed him. “Sugar?”

  “Please,” he says.

  We stay and drink tea for a few more minutes and promise to return soon. I have more time to see her now that I’m studying for my GED. I hope to take some classes at the community college in the fall.

  The sunshine blinds me when I step out of the building. I haven’t seen this much sunshine in years, always arriving and leaving the Grand when it was dark outside. It’s given my skin a new golden hue that Blue enjoys exploring with his tongue. And it’s given me hope.

  “What are your plans for the day?” I link my arm in his as we head down the sidewalk. We’re two blocks away from his apartment. Our apartment now. “Work, work, and more work?”

  I’m teasing him because he’s been flooded with interest. Which means lots of meetings with CEOs and city politicians. And that means I get to see him in a suit and tie. He fills them out beautifully but finds them stifling to wear. He’s always eager to tear it off when he gets home—and I’m happy to help.

  “Some of that,” he says. “Mostl
y phone conferences. I wasn’t planning to go into the office today.”

  “No?”

  “Well, I knew we were coming here so I deferred the in-person meetings until tomorrow. And besides, I had the most important job waiting for me here.” He’s got that look on his face, a little shy, a little proud—it means he’s going to say something sweet.

  “What’s that?”

  We stop in front of his building, the broad expanse of glass reflecting sunlight and the clasp of our bodies. He rests his hands on my hips, bending his head so only I can hear. “Protecting you.”

  I smile. “Silly, I’m already safe.”

  “Are you?” He kisses a line along my cheeks and over the bridge of my nose. “Are you sure?”

  “You could check,” I say, already breathless. This is how he starts—and he doesn’t stop, not until he’s kissed every inch of me. There’s a place between my legs, pulsing, desperate for his mouth.

  “I think I should,” he says with complete seriousness. “I wouldn’t want anyone to accuse me of slacking on the job.”

  I roll my hips forward, pressing myself against the outline of his cock. “There’s nothing slack here,” I whisper.

  He groans. “Fuck, you can’t. I’ll never make it upstairs.”

  Teasing a man with an erection is really the best thing. At least, it’s the best thing now that I have one man, this man, to do it with. I’m done stripping. I’m not sure where I’m going next, but I know Blue is going to be by my side.

  “I love you,” I whisper.

  He makes a strangled sound. “God, baby. That’s not helping me cool down.”

  I laugh, a little watery.

  His hands wrap around my face, thumbs brushing away my tears. “I hated you once. And needed you. And I almost died from not having you.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I feel all of those things. They don’t go away; they just add up until I can’t think of anything else. I don’t want to think of anything else. Lola. Hannah. You’re both of them. You’re fucking everything.”

  My breath catches in my throat, and it’s a close thing that I don’t let out a sob right there on the sidewalk. He makes a rough sound and pulls me through the lobby. Only when the elevator doors close us in does he back me up against them. Only when the tears are flowing freely and his cock is hard as iron against me does he whisper, “I love you. Love you, love you.”

  He hitches my legs around him, and I cling to him as he lifts me up. His cock is hot and hard against my clit, pushing and pushing and pushing in a rhythm just like fucking, so steady that even with our clothes between us I’m almost coming.

  “Yes, baby,” he murmurs against my neck. “Come and gush on me. I want to see you fucking wet through your panties. I want to lick them like that.”

  I shudder and rock my hips against him, but it’s hard to move. He’s thrusting against me so hard, almost fucking me into the steel doors. He’d be so deep inside me if we didn’t have clothes on. Instead I feel him throbbing and insistent, the pressure hard enough to hurt.

  We move faster and faster, our panting the only sounds in the elevator.

  It happens all at once. He bites down on the space where my neck meets my shoulder, the sting sharp enough to make me gasp. A ding sounds as the elevator arrives at our floor. Then I’m coming, shaking, shattering around him. The doors slide open behind me, and he holds me tight, my legs still wrapped around him as he carries me down the hall and brings me home.

  * * *

  “Told you this would happen,” Candy says.

  Her legs swing from her perch on the stage. It adds to her innocent image, along with her blonde ponytails and off-the-shoulder Strawberry Shortcake T-shirt. Of course her thigh-high lace patterned stockings and panty set give her the sexy edge that makes men salivate. For now the club is closed, the lights a little brighter on the brass fixtures and damask wallpaper. You could almost forget that this was a strip club if it weren’t for the shiny pole onstage.

  “You were right,” I concede. “But I’m just going to get my GED and take a few classes. I don’t know if it will go anywhere. I might end up here dancing again in six months.”

  “Ha! Blue would never let that happen.” Her eyes narrow at the far wall, as if she can see right through brick. As if she can punish him with just a look. “I’m the only one left.”

  I snort. “There are twenty girls working here.”

  She brushes them off with a wave of her hand, showing off pink nails with white polka dots. “They don’t understand me.”

  “I hate to break this to you, but I don’t understand you.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Fine, but they don’t like me.”

  “They’re just afraid of you because you perform weird voodoo on the men so they all love you. And because you have a thing with Ivan.”

  “Why do people think that? He only talks to me because I’ve been working here a long time.”

  I glance at the balcony. I can only see dark velvet curtains, but I thought I saw a shadow shift. Only one man would have access to be up there. One man with a very particular interest in the girl swinging her legs from the stage.

  “For being smart about men,” I say, “you’re stupid about him.”

  That makes her laugh. Her face lights up, and for that moment, she does look like a child. It’s disconcerting, because I know exactly where we are. No matter how pretty the building or how cultured its owner, the Grand is a dirty strip club. It strips all of us—taking our clothes and our dignity, turning men into base animals.

  Her smile goes sly. “Maybe that’s true, but I know he gets off on scaring girls like me. And I refuse to be scared.”

  I thought that way about the men who came here, but Blue tore me down with a single glance. He still tears me down with a glance, full of lust and longing. Full of love. “Be careful,” I tell her. “Men like that don’t give up easy.”

  “No, they don’t,” she says, her voice wistful. “But I’ve already seen the biggest monster, the one at the center of the maze. There is nothing Ivan could do as bad as that.”

  I shiver at the certainty in her voice. There are men that would take that as a challenge.

  The balcony is dark and still—and empty. It’s just a feeling more than a visual cue. He’s gone now, but he was there before. Watching. Listening.

  Waiting.

  The front double door opens, leaving a tall, broad man in silhouette. I know the shape of him intimately. I’ve traced his whole body with my hands. Blue.

  He crosses the room quickly and takes me in his arms. “Need more time?”

  I glance back at Candy, still sitting on the stage. For a second she looks almost forlorn. Then her usual smile slides into place, sunny and sardonic all at once. “Don’t let me keep you.”

  Guilt tugs at me for leaving her behind. “Come with me.”

  Her smile is faint. “I belong here. You, on the other hand, have a whole life waiting for you.”

  My heart clenches, because I thought I belonged here once too. I thought my life was wrapped around a pole, clad in red lace, with only the heavy beat of a song to carry me forward. Now I have something else to wrap around, something else to cover and carry me.

  Blue’s body is warm and solid next to mine. I lean into him, turning my face toward him to catch his scent. “Let’s go,” I whisper.

  His lips are gentle on my forehead. He guides me away, out of the dark, into the golden afternoon light. I’m blinded by it, but I don’t slow down. I know he can see, and I’m content to let him lead. More than content, I’m happy in my surrender. Forever fulfilled in the calloused hands that will hold me and hurt me, calm me and keep me, love me and never let me leave.

  * * *

  Thank you for reading Better When It Hurts! Do you want more Blue and Lola? They appear in the scorching hot novella Even Better, when an old military friend comes to visit. It’s dirty and sexy and dangerous—because three is a crowd.

  One
-click EVEN BETTER now!

  Then the darkly glamorous stories of the Grand continue with Ivan and Candy in Pretty When You Cry, available now! That’s the thing about showing a mouse to a cat. He wants to play. And it’s terrifying, even for me. Because the only thing darker than my past is his.

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  * * *

  Blue traces circles on my skin, leaving goose bumps in his wake. I’m still panting and shaking from the orgasm he gave me, but he looks completely relaxed. This is really the only time he looks relaxed, in the seconds after orgasm. In the brief, breathless moments when he’s just spilled his come inside me.

  Now he’s lying next to me, touching me. Always touching me.

  Even sated, he doesn’t lose his fascination with my body. He runs blunt fingertips along my collarbone and down my side. I gasp at the ticklish sensation. My arms are still above my head, right where he tied them. I thought he’d let me go when he was done with me.

  I guess he’s not done with me.

  It feels good, being wanted. Kind of like it felt at the club, but without the steady stream of strangers and humiliation aspect. Well, he still humiliates me—but only in ways we both enjoy.

  He cups my breast and runs his thumb over my nipple. I shudder.

  “Blue,” I whisper.

  “Beautiful,” he says, nice and easy.

  “I want… I need…” I can’t even explain what I need. An orgasm? He’s already given me three, and I know we’re not done. I can already feel his cock twitching against my thigh, getting ready for another round.

  I’m not sure I’ll survive.