“I don’t live far,” she says.
“Wait for me. I don’t have your address,” I grunt.
To my amazement, she nods and doesn’t attempt to back out of the parking stall. I jog to my bike and snap my helmet on as I start the engine and then pull out and wait for her. She slowly backs up and then takes off away from downtown.
She pulls into a tiny little house on the edge of town and my eyes narrow. The street is black, not one streetlight in sight, and the house itself is also dark. It isn’t safe. There are trees and shrubs all around. Someone could just lie in wait for her, and nobody would probably even hear her scream. She’s pretty fuckin’ isolated out here.
“Thank you,” she calls out as she walks toward her front door.
I shake my head as I jog up to her. Ivy’s sliding her key into the door just as I catch up to her, and I wrap my hand around hers before I gently squeeze.
“Wh—,” she tries to speak, but I don’t let her.
I turn the key and leave her on the porch as I clear her house, turning on every light and checking every single room and closet for a possible intruder.
“Why’d you do that?” she asks from the living room as I make my way back to her.
“You live out in the fucking boonies. Anybody could be waiting for you,” I announce.
“Adam wouldn’t just walk inside of my house,” she balks.
“Adam?” I ask.
“My ex, Adam, the guy who’s been bothering me,” she explains.
“Grease didn’t tell me who it was, just said it was some guy bothering you after work,” I grumble as I rub the back of my neck.
“Barry doesn’t really listen to me,” she murmurs.
“Look, you want me to stick around for a while?” I ask, not wanting to leave her out here all alone.
“No, I’ll be okay.”
“All right, babe. You workin’ tomorrow night?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’ll be off at the same time,” she sighs. She looks beat to shit.
“See ya then. Lock up behind me,” I order before I turn and walk away from her.
I have to walk away. If I don’t, I’ll fuck the shit out of her right there on her living room floor. She’s the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. A fuckin’ hard-on in heels, and she’s off-fucking-limits. To do anything would be reckless as shit.
I press my back against my front door and pinch my eyes closed. Holy shit, West is beautiful. Like full on gorgeous. His dark, little-too-long and messy helmet hair, his full dark beard, and his eyes black as night.
I don’t even want to think about his body—about his height, or how wide his shoulders are, and how trim his waist is, or the way his jeans hug his thick thighs. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of his image as I make my way toward my bathroom to shower before bed.
I want him. I want the bad boy, and I’m not sure I give one fuck that he’s everything I’ve ever steered clear from.
I throw the covers off of my sweaty body and let out a huff of air. It’s not even hot, and yet here I am, covered in sweat. I’d like to say it’s because I had some creepy nightmare, but no—I had a sex dream.
West was the star, and he was spectacular. Well, his mouth was. I could even feel his beard against my thighs. It felt so real; and just when I was about to come, my eyes popped open.
I try to sleep for a few more minutes, but I can’t. Instead, I get up and dress for some yoga. Cardio isn’t really my thing, but I like yoga. It destresses and calms me.
I hope that it can clear my mind of the sexy biker that’s taken residence front and center since last night. I don’t even like bikers. Yet, one look at West and I was panting like one of their little groupies.
After an hour of yoga, I’m panting for a different reason. I feel rejuvenated and revitalized, but I still have that feeling in my belly that makes me think of him. I spend the rest of the day cleaning my house. In reality, I’m trying to purge that sexy as shit man from my head.
It doesn’t work.
By the time I am dressed and headed toward Carlotta’s, I’m feeling nothing but ridiculous giddy excitement at the fact that I’ll be seeing him again tonight.
I’m so stupid.
Well, my head is smart. My body is stupid as all hell. It still wants that man that I know is going to do nothing but fuck me and leave me. It’s their MO. It’s what they do, men like my brother. Men like my father. Men like West. Notorious Devils.
I watched my father go through women like he was changing underwear. It was always one right after the other. Between that and his whiskey habit, I knew the kind of man I didn’t want. A man exactly like West.
“Your head’s in the clouds,” Carlotta clucks as she starts to fill the dessert cabinet with delicious treats.
“Want to go get a drink tomorrow night?” I blurt out.
Tomorrow is Sunday, and Carlotta’s is closed.
“Yeah, I could use a night out,” she agrees with a smile.
The rest of the night, we’re slammed from open to close. There’s not one minute that I’m even available to think about West and his sexiness. That is, until he walks in, about one minute before closing, as I’m walking over to the door to lock it.
I watch as his eyes scan my body, from feet to hair, and it sends a chill over me. Shit. His tongue comes out and he licks his bottom lip before his teeth sink into it. Shit. I remember how that tongue felt in my dream. My body remembers, too. I grow wet just standing across from him.
“Need me to lock the door, babe?” he asks, his voice deep and husky.
“Sure,” I whisper as I hold out the key.
I don’t know why I agree, why I don’t just do it my damn self; but as his long fingers wrap around my hand to take the key, I know it’s because I want him to touch me. I want to feel his warm, calloused fingers caress my skin in some way, even if it is just my hand.
I turn around and busy myself with the duties that I need to do in order to close up the shop. Sweeping, wiping down tables, and everything else is done all while West leans against the locked front door, tracking my every move.
“Ready?” Carlotta says.
I look up to her with wide eyes, but she’s not looking at me. She’s transfixed on the captivating man behind me, and her lips tip in a grin before she looks at me and winks.
“What time do you want to meet up tomorrow, Ivy?” she asks loudly.
“Nine?” I ask, narrowing my eyes on her.
“Nine, at the Bullseye,” Carlotta calls out as I walk toward West.
He doesn’t say anything. He simply unlocks the door and opens it for me as he steps aside. Then he turns and locks if from the outside, locking Carlotta in, keeping her safe. We don’t speak to one another. I’m tempted to look up at him, but I’m too scared I’ll throw myself at him, so I just walk to my waiting car.
I cringe when I reach the pile of crap I call a car. It’s on its last leg, and I’m afraid it’s not going to make it through another cold, snowy winter. I open the door and start the engine, just in time to see West walking away from me.
I shouldn’t have looked.
I haven’t seen his ass before, and now I’m doomed. It’s so perfect, and in his jeans—I shiver. I can only image just how spectacular it is completely bare.
I have a feeling it’s going to be another long night. I wonder when he’ll be called off and when creepy Adam will disappear?
It’s taking everything inside of me to keep my hands to myself. Fuck. This bitch is white hot. If she thought she was coming out to Bullseye without me at her back, she thought fuckin’ wrong. It’s not a typical bar I would find myself in, but for tonight, I’m here.
I show up at nine-thirty, my eyes instantly drawn to the sexiest piece of ass I’ve ever seen in my life. Long, honey hair worn down, a skin tight, short as fuck, light pink dress that pretty much covers her from tits to just below her delicious ass.
My cock presses against my zipper when I catch a glimpse of her thick, b
are thighs. Christ. I need those wrapped around me—my head, my waist, my back—fuckin’ anywhere. That ass? I close my eyes and let out a breath, trying and failing not to imagine it in front of me.
Ivy is off fucking limits; do you understand me?
Grease’s words replay over and over in my head as I sit at a booth in the back of the bar. I watch as Ivy drinks glass after glass of some girlie ass yellow cocktail. Just past twenty-one years old, she’s the youngest woman in the bar, and she has, by far, the most attention thrown her way. Yet, every man that walks up to her, she’s shooed off.
Bartender announces last call, and I watch as she and her girlfriend walk toward me. Her eyes skirt over me, and I don’t think she’s seen me—until her hand wraps around mine. She squeezes before she bends down, and her lips touch the shell of my ear as her soft voice speaks.
“You taking me home to actually fuck me, or are you just going to eye fuck me all night?”
Ivy tries to back up, thinking she’s slick as shit, but her movements are slow from her alcohol consumption. My hand reaches out and grabs a handful of her ass as I stand. I dip my chin and brush my lips across hers. Then, lifting my head, I taste her off of my lips.
Lemons.
Fuck me, she tastes like lemons and sugar.
“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for, babe,” I grunt, not taking my hand off of her ass.
“I’m a big girl. I think I know what I want,” she whispers, looking up at me through lowered lids.
“You want a man that has no qualms about fucking you even though I’ve watched you suck back cocktail after cocktail all night? Because once we step inside of your place, I’m fucking you. Trashed or not, whether you regret it in the morning, or not.”
“I won’t regret it,” she murmurs.
Seconds later, she’s on the back of my bike. Her warm pussy is pressed against my back, and her arms are wrapped tightly around my middle, fisting the fabric of my t-shirt. I pull onto her dark as fuck street and into her even darker driveway. I’m going to have to have a talk with her about leaving her house without a light on.
Ivy wobbles but doesn’t trip or fumble as she digs her keys out of her little bag. I take them from her hand as soon as they’re out of her bag, and I unlock her house.
Wrapping my fingers around her wrist, I tug her inside before slamming the front door behind me. Then I grab her by the waist and press her back against the closed door.
“West,” she whispers. The sound goes straight to my cock.
Smashing my lips against hers, I take her in a hard, brutal, unrelenting kiss. My tongue invades her mouth, and her sugary lemon taste invades mine.
Moaning, I wrap my hands around the outside of her luscious thighs and I lift her off the ground a bit. Ivy responds just the way I want, with a moan of her own as her legs wrap around my waist, pressing her hot pussy against my middle.
“Fuck, you taste like sweet lemonade,” I grunt as my lips move down the column of her neck.
“Lemon drops,” she rasps.
I hum, moving my hands to her plump ass, groaning when I find it bare. One of my hands stays planted, my fingertips digging into the flesh of her cheek, while the other runs toward the crack of her delectable ass.
“West,” she squeals.
“Thong panties,” I murmur as my finger runs the length of the slim string, down to where it widens and covers her pussy.
“Yeah,” she sighs as her head thumps against the door.
I scrape my beard down her neck and enjoy the intake of her breath when it reaches her chest.
“I need these tits in my mouth,” I murmur against the tops of her beasts.
“Yes,” she hisses.
I keep my hands wrapped around her ass as I take a step away from the door. I need a bed. I’m not going to do a quick fuck against the wall with Ivy. If I’m potentially fucking up my prospect position, if I’m being reckless as shit, then I’m going to damn well enjoy every second of it.
Luckily, I remember exactly where her room is. My nightly check of her house isn’t solely for the benefit of keeping her safe. I’m a selfish bastard, and I knew I’d be in that bed, inside of her, eventually.
West lies me down on the bed, my legs dangling off of the edge. Slowly, he peels my dress off of me, leaving me wearing nothing but my heels and my lacy thong panties. He curses before he gently removes my shoes, dropping them to the floor at the foot of my bed. I’m soaking wet, my senses on overload. I’m drunk, I rode on the back of his bike, and now he’s touching me.
Holy shit, it’s like my dreams are finally coming true—well, my dreams over the past few nights.
“West,” I whisper.
He’s just looking at me, and I have the urge to cover up my entire body so that he can’t see my imperfections. I start by pulling my legs closed, but his hands reach out quickly and wrap around my inner thighs, pushing my legs apart further than they were before.
My buzz is wearing off, and I’m wondering how on earth I became so bold and brazen as to come on to him? What is wrong with me?
“Been dreaming about having my head between these thighs for days,” he mutters.
“What?” I breathe.
“Your body is rockin’, Ivy. Fuckin’ hell, it’s like you were carved from my fantasies,” he rasps as he sinks to the floor beside the bed and drapes my legs over his shoulders.
I gasp when his mouth covers me over the center of my panties before he sucks. Then I feel his tongue flatten against it, and all I want is his tongue against my skin. I lift my hips closer to his mouth and he chuckles, his breath washing over my sensitive center.
“Greedy,” he murmurs.
I don’t even care. Shit, yes, I’m greedy. He just told me I looked like a fantasy, and he looks like every bad boy I’ve ever seen and run from. I want it all from him, all that dirty nasty, bad boy sex that oozes out of him.
Laying bare before him, it’s like a vault has been blown wide open, and I’m forced to admit that this is my fantasy, too. My very own fantasy I’ve never allowed myself to voice. I was lying to myself, watching those men who came and went as I grew up; watching the bad boys that grew into bad men who hung around the house. I shiver at the truth. I’ve always wanted to take a walk on the wild side. With West, his wild seems a bit safer than any other Devil I’ve seen.
West’s finger slips beneath my panties and his knuckle grazes my center, then my clit, causing me to hiss. Then, as if he’s read my mind, he shifts my panties to the side and lowers his face to my center again. When his lips wrap around my clit, I can’t help but tighten my thighs around his head.
He hums as his tongue flicks me in quick, rapid moves. I cry out and arch my back, trying to get closer to his face. My whole body shakes as his tongue leaves my clit and fills my pussy, giving me exactly what I crave.
“Holy shit,” I curse as he fucks me.
I can feel his beard rubbing against my thighs and against my pussy with each move he makes. When his lips and tongue are playing my clit again, my eyes roll in the back of my head. I’m unable to control myself, my hips moving and searching of their own volition.
I’m on the verge of coming, my body wound so tightly that I feel as though I’m going to detonate into a million pieces at any given second.
Then. He. Stops.
I open my mouth to protest, but he’s already pulling his clothes off. The sight of his bare chest makes my mouth hang open. He’s the most built man I’ve ever seen up close and personal. When his pants fall to the floor, I snap my mouth closed and my eyes widen at the sheer size of his cock.
“See something you like, babe?” he asks. I look up to his face to find him smirking.
Unsure of what to say, I nod before I lick my bottom lip and sink my teeth into it. I like everything that I see. I have no clue where to start. He instructs me to ditch my panties and get into the middle of the bed. I do as he orders as quickly as I can.
“Show me that sweet pussy,” he murm
urs as he crawls up from the foot of my bed between my legs.
I spread my thighs, my bashfulness completely gone for the moment. All I can think about is having him inside of me. I don’t want him there, I need him there, all of him—every single fucking inch.
West bends his neck and sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, his teeth sinking into the hardened bud and gently tugging. I move my hands to the back of his head, twisting my fingers into his hair and arching my back, trying to get closer to his mouth—to him.
He slips his cock between my folds and then, with one quick thrust, he’s completely inside of me. Ripping his head away from my breast, he lets out the deepest, sexiest groan I have ever heard in my life.
“Fuck me, you’re so goddamn tight,” he grunts. His eyes connect with mine and his expression is no longer cocky and smug. It’s serious.
One of his hands lifts and moves my hair from my face, his fingers sliding down to the side of my neck while he shifts his hips, pulling almost completely out of me before he slides back inside to the root.
“Ivy,” he rasps.
I have no words to respond with. My eyes just stay glued to his as he slowly pulls out and slams back inside of me with his strength.
It’s hard but slow, his rhythm never changing, never breaking. I lift my knees higher and whimper as my body climbs again toward my release. I can already feel that when it happens, it’s going to be huge.
“Want this pussy to strangle the fuck outta me, babe. I need you to come,” he murmurs.
His lips touch mine and then, as if it’s the permission my body needs, I come, crying out into his mouth. My fingers, wrapped around his forearms, are surely scoring nail marks into his flesh. He thrusts his hips a few more times before he stills, rips his lips from mine, and then lets out the most beautiful moan while he fills me with his own climax.
I blink, suddenly realizing there was no condom used between us.
“West,” I whisper.
Rough & Ruthless (Notorious Devils Book 4) Page 28