Full Exposure

by Tracy Wolff

  The room had cleared out; only three other people remained. He’d hurriedly washed off in the dingy adjoining bathroom, but shock still reverberated through his system. Claire stared back at him with a mixture of defiance and fear. And yes, even though she was obviously trying to hide it, arousal was there, too. It was as if she knew he’d been thinking of her when he’d come. He’d bet his pension that she was wet, and for a brief moment he actually forgot the fucked-up situation they were in. His mouth watered at the thought of spearing her flesh with his tongue and lapping her sweet womanly juice. Meanwhile, his dick jerked at the realization that seeing him being blown by another woman had turned her on. He’d suspected Claire had a kinky side when they’d met, but she’d been so determined not to lose control, he’d convinced himself he’d imagined it. Now he knew he hadn’t.

  With extreme effort, he broke eye contact with her to face Jed. He cocked a brow and leaned farther back in his chair, knees splayed wide. “So what’s this about? I was just getting started,” he grumbled.

  Jed grinned. “I’m giving you an initiation bonus. She’s yours.”

  Ty didn’t so much as glance at Claire, but he couldn’t help it—his cock hardened even more at the thought of her being “his.” Of being able to do anything and everything he wanted to her—like give her a screaming orgasm no matter how much she fought it. Forcing her to lose control and give him everything she had, just as he’d urged her on that night. Everything she was. The good and the bad. Her soft, clean innocence as well as her dark, sultry, down-and-dirty side that he’d instinctively known was there.

  Immediately, his mind zoomed back to the night three months ago when he’d walked her to her door and kissed her goodnight. Hell, he’d done more than just kiss her lips. He’d dived straight into heaven for a hot-and-heavy make-out session that had haunted his dreams. He’d acquainted himself with her body—her lush curves, her slick secrets, the hitch in her breath and the pitch of her moans when he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

  She’d especially liked it when he talked to her. His voice in her ear had had the power to make her pussy clench around his fingers as if it was trying to suck him inside her. When he’d started to talk dirty, she’d clawed his back in her excitement—right until she’d booted him out.

  He hadn’t seen her since.

  Now here she was, obviously under duress, a prisoner of the very gang Luke and Ty and every other cop in the city were trying to bring down.

  Given the circumstances, his hard-on should have made him feel like shit, but he had more important things to worry about right now.

  Like surviving the mess this sting had become.

  Like making sure Claire survived unscathed.

  And rerouting the blood from his dick back to the other parts of his body before it busted through the zipper of his jeans and leaped in her direction. For a second, he stared at her. Considered giving her what she so clearly craved—the cover of duress so she could lose herself in her desires without any guilt.

  But he couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. There was no way he could be absolutely certain it was what she wanted, and even if it was, she’d use it to push him away afterward. He’d already vowed to see her again after this sting was over. He wasn’t going to give her any ammo to keep him at arm’s length.

  Standing, he strode to Jed, his movements smooth and unconcerned. “I didn’t realize the terms of my initiation had changed.”

  Jed clasped a hand on his shoulder and nodded. “You’re going to be one of us, brother. Provided you do what has to be done. Tonight.”

  Ty’s stomach tightened at the way Jed’s gaze moved over his shoulder, landing on Claire in an appreciative glance that suddenly had his nerves dancing a jig.

  Shit.

  He tried to look bored instead of grim. “So who the fuck is she?”

  “A reporter who was warned to stop sticking her nose into Guardian business. She didn’t listen. So now it’s your turn to persuade her. By being friendly, of course.”

  Ty smirked and nodded despite the turmoil inside him.

  There’s nothing friendly about rape, you motherfucker.

  Nothing he’d read or seen about Jed indicated he’d allow an unconsenting woman—even one who’d stuck her nose into Guardian business—to be raped in his presence. In fact, something about the man’s affiliation with the gang seemed off. He and Luke had even considered approaching Jed to turn state’s witness, but had decided the move was premature. Obviously, that had been the wise choice, given where Jed seemed to be heading.

  Behind him, Ty heard Claire’s renewed struggle in objection to Jed’s words. Suddenly, she gasped and stopped fighting. Obviously Tom, the big brute restraining her, had something to do with that.

  Where the hell was Luke? If things got ugly, he’d need his partner to back him up. It would mean both their covers would be blown, but together they’d have a better chance of actually getting Claire out of here safely.

  Deliberately, he kept his gaze off her. Off Tom, the man whose fingers he wanted to break one by one for daring to touch her. “I made my choice, and Brea’s been doing just fine.”

  Jed scowled. “This one will be more fun to watch.”

  Imagining Claire bare and beneath him while others watched would have been a turn-on under different circumstances; imagining it here, with these men watching and with real fear darkening her eyes, made nausea roll through Ty’s stomach. “No,” he gritted out.

  “You’re refusing a senior member’s orders?”

  A tense silence stretched between them and Ty bit back a curse. He forced himself to turn and meet Claire’s gaze directly.

  He’d already shown Jed he wasn’t a man to kowtow to others, but they were talking about his initiation into one of the city’s biggest, baddest, and most elusive gangs. To get inside, to be able to stop the insidious drug crimes the gang perpetrated, and to avenge his friend Paul, who’d been killed during a drug raid gone bad, Ty had sacrificed months of his life. Hell, he’d even let them tat him with an obnoxious fire-encased skull and crossbones on his left forearm.

  And yes, he was okay with screwing a willing woman in front of the gang and letting a brother or two join in. He wasn’t, however, going to let that woman be Claire. No chance in hell. Especially because the fear in her eyes was now overshadowing any hint of excitement. Claire might get turned on watching sex play, but obviously the idea of her being the evening’s entertainment for a bunch of gang members didn’t have the same effect. He turned back to Jed. “To prove my loyalty to the gang, I was ordered, by Brad, to shoot my seed inside a female of my choice in front of the brothers. I did it. I’m in. Your attempt to change the terms now is an insult. If you want, I’m more than happy to let Brea have another go.”

  Whatever Tom had done to restrain Claire minutes earlier still allowed her small gasp to be heard. Was Ty imagining hurt in the sound? Jealousy?

  “C’mon, man. What’s wrong with you? This bitch is hot.”

  Ty turned to face her again, but this time ran his gaze up and down her body. Hot was an understatement. With the bountiful curves of a ’50s pinup model, the bone structure of a goddess, and the lips of a porn star, she was a wet dream whether it was morning, noon, or night. Her breasts were heavy globes topped with what he knew were dark nipples that fit perfectly inside his mouth. She was also a workaholic with obviously more guts than good sense, and her tailored, buttoned-up clothes definitely screamed “repressed.”

  “She looks like she hasn’t been laid in a few years. I want to enjoy my initiation, not give a sex ed lesson.”

  That elicited a sound of fury from her. “You bastard—” Her response was cut off when Tom laughed and slapped his beefy hand over her mouth. Above it, however, her light green eyes lasered into him with the promise of retribution.

  He mentally shrugged. If she felt insulted, he’d accomplished his goal, but he’d still spoken the truth. She had admitted it had been a long time for her, and he hadn’t
doubted her. He still didn’t. The same wasn’t true for her reason for dumping him—their incompatible personalities and her busy work schedule. When he’d persisted, she’d told him his job was a turnoff for her. It was all bullshit. If the situation weren’t such a damn dangerous one, he would’ve actually enjoyed how the tables had turned.

  Knowing it was expected of him, he moved closer until he towered over her. Tom took his hand away from her mouth. Ty brushed his fingers across her cheek and leaned down until his nose touched hers. “Sorry if it disappoints you, baby, but I don’t do women who look like they don’t swallow let alone suck dick with expertise.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, then pressed her lips tightly together as if to hold back her retort. Too bad. He would have loved to hear her response. He had no doubt that when Claire Fullerton let herself go, she was a sight to behold—in bed and out.

  “Oh, she’ll swallow,” Jed said. “Suck, swallow, and any other damn thing we want her to do.”

  With one last piercing stare into Claire’s wide eyes, one he hoped but doubted would reassure her, Ty straightened. “Get her the hell out of here. I don’t want her.”

  He turned and started to walk away.

  “Then I’ll have her for myself. The bitch needs to be taught a lesson.”

  Ty froze at Jed’s words and closed his eyes. Fuck.

  This was bad. Very bad.

  Because no way was he letting anyone—be it Jed or the town’s most law-abiding citizen—touch her.

  He clenched his fists, wondering how he was going to take Tom and Jed down while keeping her out of harm’s way. He—

  “I don’t want you. I want him,” he heard from behind him.

  Claire.

  In disbelief, he slowly turned around.

  A wide grin split Tom’s face. With a side look at Jed, he shoved her toward Ty, who caught her as she stumbled into him, his fingers gently wrapping around her soft skin to steady her. “Don’t …” he muttered, wanting to warn her. Explain. Something.

  Claire swallowed hard, but the knowledge was already there in her eyes. Knowledge and determination. She knew what was going on. What was about to go down.

  He didn’t want her, however. Not like this.

  “I want you,” she whispered, her fingers suddenly lowering to the fly of his jeans. “Not him. Not—” Her voice broke. Her face was flushed, partially obscured by her fall of honey brown hair, and she was staring at his throat rather than his eyes. Her fingers were shaking, but she licked her lips and seemingly forced herself to say, “Please. I’ll do anything you want me to. Anything.” Slipping her hand inside his pants, she cupped him, rubbing through the material of his briefs. “J-just please don’t hurt me.”

  His eyes widened and his brain seemed to short circuit.

  Her plea at the end had sounded convincing, but the fear that had overwhelmed her minutes ago had ebbed. Her expression radiated desire and anticipation.

  And, damn, it blew his mind.

  It was like every fantasy he’d ever had come to life. He loved Claire’s prissy side. Her femininity. Ambition. Kindness. But to have all that and this, too? To know she wanted him so much that the danger of the situation wasn’t enough to dampen her arousal? His dick swelled to painful proportions, eagerly announcing it was ready, willing, and don’t-hold-me-back eager to give her what she wanted. She must have felt it, because her eyes dropped lower, and with a small whimper, she pushed her hand past the front placket of his briefs and gripped his cock.

  He closed his eyes and bit back a groan.

  In a flash, he envisioned her long bare legs wrapped around his hips. Her nipples in his mouth. His dick shoved deep inside her.

  His blood boiled and surged to his cock, making him grind his teeth at the combined pleasure and pain.

  Her breath hitched, causing his eyes to fly open.

  She was still looking down, and his gaze followed. Her small fingers didn’t quite fit around him. The pale, delicate digits contrasted so beautifully with his heavily-veined blood-infused organ that he wanted to get on his knees and beg her to never let go.

  Impossibly, she must have read his thoughts.

  That, or she’d decided in the face of his silence to press her advantage. Because as he stood there, so stunned that his brain had virtually shut down, she whispered, for his ears alone, “I want you to come in my mouth this time. Mine.”

  And then she fell to her knees before him.

  Read on for an excerpt from Stacey Kennedy’s

  Claimed

  Chapter One

  “Master Dmitri doesn’t expect sex.” Cora grunted. “You’ll keep your clothes on.”

  Presley Flynn scanned the foyer of the snazzy mansion and looked for something to hold on to as her roommate, Cora Adams, hustled her down the corridor. With a little shove, Cora added, “You wanted this, remember?”

  “Clearly, I’ve lost my damn mind.” Presley pushed back against Cora’s hands, trying to hold her ground.

  The mansion was pleasant, with thick dark wood on the trim of the doorways and gentle burgundy-painted walls, but it did nothing to settle her nerves. Beneath her feet, located in the basement, was the elite BDSM dungeon, Club Sin. “Maybe I need to go to a therapist. Or skip that part and go straight to the nuthouse.”

  Cora stepped in front of Presley, and her big blue eyes, lined with dark makeup, sparkled. Her long chocolate-colored hair fell over her black blouse, and her red lipstick covered pursed lips. “You told me you wanted to join the dungeon.”

  Presley snorted. “You said I was a long-lost submissive who needed the lifestyle. Which, apparently, is so far from the truth, since why am I on the verge of puking all over this fancy hardwood floor?”

  Cora smirked. “Please don’t puke on Master Dmitri’s floor.”

  “Okay, great,” Presley muttered in total agreement. “See, it’s best I leave.”

  She turned to get the hell out of the place when Cora grabbed her arm, pulling Presley back in front of her. “One chance, Presley, that’s all you get. If you leave now, you won’t be allowed to come back.”

  Cora walked forward, and Presley found herself matching her stride. They passed a grand wooden staircase on the left, leading to the upstairs. A huge wrought-iron balcony curved around the entire upper floor, which led to numerous doors used for God knew what.

  They strode by an oval-shaped dining room, and Cora added, “There’s a reason why you read so many BDSM erotic novels. There’s a reason why it turns you on. And there’s a reason why you made the decision to come with me tonight.”

  Stopping near the doorway to the office that Presley had been avoiding for the last five minutes, she inhaled. “You’re right. I did come here for a reason.” To surrender to her every desire. “I don’t want to walk out the front door, but—” She pointed toward the office. “I’m scared shitless to walk through that door.”

  “Of course you are.” Cora grinned. “Your darkest, most secret fantasies await you in that office.” Without another word, she spun on her heel and headed down the hallway in the opposite direction.

  “Do you plan on coming in?”

  Presley started at the powerful low voice that seemed to draw her forward, giving the fearful butterflies in her stomach a flutter of excitement. Her feet moved without thought as she entered the office, which looked much like a library.

  Books filled the shelves at the far end of the room, along with a grand wooden desk. A computer and telephone and other office accessories sat on top of it. A sleek black leather couch was situated straight ahead, under the bay window.

  “Ah, she finally decides to enter.”

  Presley froze, as time halted. The man never raised his head to look at her, but he didn’t need to. His presence filled the room, making her entirely aware of him. He sat at the desk, his head bowed toward the paper he’d been reading. With the slight curve to his mouth, he stole the air from her lungs. He was hot.

  As the owner of Club Sin an
d the president of Las Vegas’s top casino, Dmitri Pratt matched the mansion with his wealthy exuberance. Hard angles defined his jawline and cheekbones. His lips were lush and sculpted and his nose straight-edged. The sleeves of his black dress shirt were rolled up on his muscular forearms, displaying a tribal dragon tattoo on his left arm.

  When she didn’t move, Dmitri stated, with his eyes still focused on the paper, “Take a seat on the couch.”

  Exhaling slowly, she shed the tension in her chest as she made her way to the leather sofa and sat down. The coolness of the upholstery against her heated skin came as much needed relief. She crossed her legs, doing her best to portray confidence.

  In front of this powerful and experienced man, she didn’t want to show her apprehension. In fact, she’d never been this uncomfortable around men, but Dmitri wasn’t simply a man. He sexually dominated women, and as a Dom, he did the kinky things Presley had only dreamed of fulfilling.

  He signed the paper, then he lifted his head. Presley forgot the world around her, absorbed in him. His piercing blue eyes gazed over her from head to toe before his focus returned to her face. The depth of those eyes pulled her in with the intensity of how he watched her. No, how he studied her. He didn’t give her a quick look but a long examination.

  Under his stare, her body went mushy and hot. Flames flickered through her veins as he stood from his chair and approached. Her fingernails bit into her palms as her heart rate increased. His muscular frame didn’t fit his fluid gait. Each step he took exuded authority, like a lion on a hunt, but appeared graceful, with controlled power.

  She scanned the thickness of his shoulders beneath his black dress shirt, and she noticed how the fabric clung to him, detailing the valleys of his muscles. Glancing lower, she found the rest of him to be more of the same—powerful and masculine. His black slacks, held tight by a leather belt hung low on his hips, hugged his thick thighs.

  Stopping in front of her, he stared at her with impressively intense eyes, and a strand of his stylish blond hair hung across his forehead. “So, you’re Cora’s friend? Presley, right?”