“Damn.” Ford couldn’t hold back the groan as Beth shifted, stepping into the light, and he realized that she wasn’t alone. No, she had a woman at her front, a man pressed to her back and her eyes closed, her expression dreamy as she rocked between the two bodies, every movement sensual and sure.
The man behind her was dark and swarthy, and Ford might have thought to be jealous if he hadn’t been so fascinated with the way the man fisted Beth’s hair and pulled her head back. What he’d seen of her today said that she’d protest being forced to do anything, but her lips, shiny with red gloss, opened with a moan that he couldn’t hear but that resounded in his head regardless.
The woman in front of her, a redhead in a tight dress, rubbed her breasts against Beth’s own. Ford shifted on his stool, his cock hardening fully as the woman dipped her head and licked a slow trail down Beth’s neck.
Damn.
As if he’d spoken out loud, Beth’s eyes fluttered open. Lifting her head, she looked across the bar, over to where he sat, aching...and right into his eyes.
Earlier today her eyes had been the color of the afternoon sky, but now they were sapphire fire, the flames licking along his skin. His gut tightened as she smiled lazily, then slowly, sensually disengaged herself from the tangle of limbs.
Behind her, the couple continued their dance, but Ford didn’t care—his eyes were on the woman who was crossing the room toward him with slow, deliberate undulations of her hips.
“Fancy meeting you here, Sir Lassiter.” She stopped well into his personal space, and that vanilla perfume made his mouth water and his jaw clench.
“Sir?” He arched an eyebrow and tried really hard not to do what he wanted, which was to reach out and place his hands at her waist, to slide her shirt up and feel the warmth of her skin beneath.
“Mmm, you seem like a sir.” Beth smiled and inched closer, stepping right between his spread thighs. He felt his expression darken—she knew exactly what she was doing, what she was asking for.
“What makes you say that?” His instincts told him to tug her flush against his body, to press her to him so she could feel exactly what she was doing to him.
He did not.
“You seem all proper and noble...like an aristocrat. A knight. Sir Lassiter.” Beth nudged forward just a whisper, and he felt the curve of her hip press into his inner thigh.
His mouth went dry.
“Like you’re trying so hard to do what you think is right. But tell me something.” Tilting her head back, she looked up into his eyes, searching. “Why is denying yourself something that you want, that we both want, the right thing? I know you feel it, too.”
Her open question gutted him. He’d been in the boardroom with billionaires, with sheikhs, with sharks, and he’d bested them all.
The little woman who smelled like cupcakes? She was bringing him to his knees.
“I—” He started to explain, but she cut him off, stepping back, her sudden frown breaking the spell.
“I see.” Her lips pinched together in a mockery of a smile. “I’m not the kind of woman you want to get involved with, right? Not even for a night. Let me assure you, that’s your loss.”
Wait...what?
“Wait just a damn minute.” When Beth would have turned, Ford did as he’d imagined, catching her by the waist and hauling her back into the vee of his legs. This time her pelvis connected with the steel length of his erection, and he savored her sharp little intake of breath. “What do you mean?”
“I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.” Beth regarded him coldly, though she didn’t back down. “My hair, my tattoos... I’m far too wild for you.”
“Oh, do you think so?” The way she was looking up at him, so certain she was right, was a challenge, and he felt something inside him roaring to life to meet it.
She thought he was turned off because she wasn’t his usual type? Well, he couldn’t deny that she was not at all the kind of woman he was usually drawn to, and his instant attraction to her puzzled him more than a bit.
But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was what she made him feel.
“I don’t give a damn about the color of your hair or the ink on your skin. Got it?” The need to prove that she wasn’t the problem was quickly overriding his sense of restraint, the only other thing that had held him back from accepting her sweet offer that afternoon.
“I don’t know you, yet you make me want things I’m not comfortable wanting. Make me feel things I shouldn’t.” His hands at her waist squeezed, hard, to emphasize his point, and he savored her resultant shudder, which ratcheted up his own excitement.
“Why would you be uncomfortable wanting something if it doesn’t hurt anyone else?” She was watching him again, lids heavy over those big eyes. “Or maybe you think that it is hurting someone?”
He kept his stare on her face, absorbing every nuance of her expression, which was open, honest.
Something told him that Beth Marchande wasn’t going to be disgusted with the demands he might make of her.
“Sometimes a little bit of hurt is good, Sir Lassiter...especially when I’m begging you for it.”
“Fuck.” Dragging his hands up her sides, over her rib cage and the swell of her breasts, Ford clasped Beth by the shoulders and tugged her forward, crushing her smirking lips to his own.
Rather than offering him a kiss as sweet as the vanilla she smelled of, she moaned beneath the pressure and opened, her tongue surging out to tangle with his.
One hand slid behind her head and fisted in the long mane of raven and amethyst hair, just as his fingers had itched to. He tugged her head to the side roughly and then dragged his lips down the column of her throat, settling over her pulse and sinking his teeth in to claim.
“Well, what’s it going to be, Sir Lassiter?” Beth’s breathy question rasped in his ear, and she shuddered when his teeth marked her skin. “Are you going to be good? Or are you going to be bad? What do you think?”
Shoving his glass aside—he felt intoxicated just from being near her—Ford stood, making sure that every plane of his body glided against hers as he did.
Her eyes glittered with the same need that he felt as he quickly pulled a fifty from his wallet and tossed it onto the surface of the bar.
“I think...” Ford deliberately wrapped his fingers around her own, drawing them up to his lips to nip. “I think that we’re going to go back to my room right now. And I’m going to find something better for that smart mouth to do.”
CHAPTER FOUR
WHAT AM I DOING?
This woman was different. Exotic. Wild. Not like anyone he’d ever been drawn to before, and he wasn’t sure why he was attracted to her now. He didn’t do exotic, didn’t want wild.
And yet when he placed a hand at the small of her back to guide her out of the heated bar, he swore he almost felt a physical shock from just the press of his fingers to that small dip in her spine.
The Turbo had been his first acquisition on the road to success. He’d kept it because nothing had ever felt as good as that first achievement. That first marker of success that he’d earned on his own, not riding on his parents’ coattails.
Over the decade since its purchase, he’d bought and sold cars, property, investments. Had pursued some of the most interesting and beautiful women in the world. Had grown his small hotel chain into something internationally renowned.
Nothing had come even close to recapturing that thrill, the high of knowing he’d achieved something on his own.
Nothing, that was, until now.
Beth said something to the giant man standing by the door as they passed, making the other man laugh. Then they were outside, the cool air of early fall in Massachusetts as refreshing as a swim on a hot day after the beer-soaked heat inside the bar.
He watched as she shook her long fall of wavy hair back. The
bright purple seeming ethereal and mysterious in the fading light.
What was going on with him? Purple hair wasn’t sexy. Full-sleeve tattoos weren’t sexy.
Except that on her, it was.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets as she looked him over. Those blue eyes of hers seemed almost to glow, full of wicked intent as she took her time regarding him from head to toe.
His body responded, dark need curling tightly in his gut. No, he had no idea why he wanted this woman so badly, but he did, wanted her with a craving that seemed primal in its intensity.
“I’d invite you back to my place, but I could tell this morning it wasn’t exactly your cup of tea.” She smirked at him, a knowing little smile that made his mouth water. She was provoking him deliberately.
That exchange they’d had earlier in the garage. The dynamic between them. Unless he’d read it very, very wrong, she wanted the very thing that he tried hard not to offer.
“Clearly you didn’t think I was serious about finding something better for your smart mouth to do.” He couldn’t help it. The needs that he was usually fine ignoring were clawing beneath his skin, begging to tear their way free to be with her.
The sharp inhalation of her breath was confirmation. An ache spread through his core.
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 a
way 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.
Playing Dirty Page 3