by Meghan March
As soon as I say the words, one of her heels slides to the side, and it’s all I need. I’ve never moved so fast in my entire life, not even in the ring, when I was fighting to save my own ass.
“I’m glad you like the dress,” she whispers as my lips touch hers.
I reply against her mouth. “It’s not the dress. It’s you. Everything about you. Fuck, the way you came out there? There aren’t words.” A nervous laugh leaves her lips, and I nip at the bottom one. “You’re laughing?”
“I’ve never done that before. Not so fast. Not like that. Especially not with someone else touching me.”
My hand curves around her hip and lifts her off the desk so I can cup her ass.
“Oh yeah? I fucking love that.” My palm slides down until it’s skin on skin, and then I reverse directions, pushing up the hem of the dress as I go. “You’re so fucking soft.”
Her hips lift and push against me, and it’s all the invitation I need to go for it. I slide my fingers beneath the flimsy little strap of her thong and follow it between her legs until all I feel is hot, wet heaven in the form of the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had the pleasure to touch.
“Oh God.” She bucks against me, rocking back and forth across my fingers, and my dick threatens to bust through the zipper of my slacks. “More, please. Harder. Oh God. I’m so close.”
The whimpers and moans send all the blood in my body roaring south. All that’s left is a chant in my head. Make her come, make her come. Take her, take her.
When I plunge my middle finger into her tight cunt and grind my cock against her clit, she screams.
“Oh my God, oh my God. Oh my God!”
Her fingernails dig into my shoulders, threatening to tear my shirt, and I couldn’t fucking care less. The only thing that matters right now is getting inside her and feeling her grip my cock while she screams.
Fifty-Five
Scarlett
I can’t stop coming. The friction from his cock, combined with his fingers and everything else happening in this moment, overwhelms my senses until all I can think is more.
“I need you. All of you. Please. More. Now.”
Voicing my request unleashes the beast inside Gabriel, and he locks his lips onto mine and fucks my mouth with his tongue as he pulls his hand from between my legs.
I try to argue, to tell him to put it back, but there’s no chance to speak. He picks me up and slides my ass farther back on the desk.
My panties disappear with a snap of elastic and my dress is shoved up to my hips.
With his hands on my thighs, my pussy bared before him, he pauses.
“Sweet fucking Christ. I don’t know how else to say this, but you’ve got two seconds before I’m buried inside you. You want to change your mind, now’s your chance.”
I don’t know what he’s expecting me to say, but I only have one word for him.
“Condom?”
“Fuck yes.”
One hand leaves my thigh and goes to his back pocket—so I know he was hoping for the same outcome tonight as me. I reach out, my fingers tangling with his as I undo the buckle and he pops the button on his slacks. The zipper slides down and . . . oh my God.
His thick cock springs free, slapping my hand. I wrap my fingers around it, squeezing and stroking for a second before he peels them away.
“You do that, and I’ll blow my load all over your hand, ladybug. I’m not coming anywhere but inside you tonight.”
As soon as I lose my grip on him, he tears open the condom and rolls it on.
Burning blue eyes lock onto mine. “Last chance.”
“I want all of you, Gabriel. Right. Now.”
With a look on his face that is equal parts saint and sinner, he steps between my legs and cups my cheek with his left hand. A moment later, the head of his cock presses against my entrance, and I suck in a breath.
One hand cups my ass, and the other strokes my cheek as he drives forward, inch by inch.
My hands scrabble for purchase, one gripping his bicep and the other grasping the edge of the desk as he buries himself to the hilt.
“Holy fuck.” He whispers the words like a benediction as my inner muscles clamp down on his cock in a stranglehold.
We both still for a beat.
“Hold on, because this isn’t going to be sweet or easy.”
I dig my nails into his shirt, signaling that I want exactly what he’s about to give me, and Gabriel explodes into the most beautiful display of raw need that I never knew could exist.
Stroke after stroke, he pounds into me, pulling me close with each thrust until our bodies collide. Somehow, he manages to thumb my clit, and I’m a goner. My neck can’t support the weight of my head, and it drops back, lolling from side to side as I whisper and scream and thank God that I finally know what it’s like to be fucked by a real man.
My orgasm hits like a rogue wave, sweeping me away until I’m nothing but need and feeling and whimpers.
“Scarlett. Fuck yes!” Gabriel groans as he keeps going, taking me higher.
I can’t stop coming. I’m going to freaking shatter into a million tiny little pieces at any moment.
Moments later, Gabriel roars out his climax so loudly that the entire building seems to shake.
Fifty-Six
Legend
The earth stands still. Stops turning. Every other human on the planet ceases to exist.
As my heart hammers and sweat drips down my brow, I try to catch my breath as I stare at the beautiful face of the woman in front of me. In that moment, I know she has the power to break me.
Q had the reason for his concern wrong. She’s not just out of my league. She’s the kind of woman I’ll never recover from.
Everything I ever thought I knew before was bullshit. Scarlett Priest is it. The kind of woman I’d kill to keep—and would kill me to lose.
I lean forward, touching my forehead to hers, inhaling the scent of sex and sweat and sweetness that’s all her.
She will break me. It’s a fact.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her breath cool against my overheated skin. “You have no idea how badly I needed to know this was possible. To know that I can feel like this.”
I don’t know exactly what she means, but my dick is in danger of sliding out of her, so I press a kiss to the tip of her nose.
“Thank you,” I say, pulling out.
She scrambles off the desk, and I walk around it to grab a box of tissues from a drawer. I hold it out to her, and she takes a handful.
“Let me take care of this, and you can clean up in the bathroom.”
I walk through the attached doorway and dispose of the condom, wash my hands, and do up my pants before letting her have the restroom. She closes the door with a smile on her face that strikes fear so deep inside me, it threatens to take me to my knees.
I keep my expression fixed until I lose sight of her, and then I spin around and jam my fingers into my hair.
What the fuck did I just do? What the fuck am I going to do now? I can’t do this. Not with her. If something happened to her . . . I won’t survive it. I don’t know how I know this fact, but I do.
My stomach churns. How the fuck do I face her?
Q’s warning from earlier hits me like a sucker punch. “Whatever you do, don’t let her in. You keep your circle small on purpose, Gabe. Remember why.”
I remember why. Because when my circle’s not small, people die.
I’ll never forget the sight of Bump’s bleeding body crawling toward me as tears streamed down his face. “Jorie’s dead.” Then he passed out, and I thought I’d lost them both. Regret ripped through me, shredding the fabric of my fucking soul.
I can’t go through that again.
Moses will find me. With my name and picture in the papers after the shooting, I’ve known it’s only a matter of time before he tracks me down to finish the job he fucked up when they shot Bump and Jorie.
I refuse to put Scarlett at risk.
&
nbsp; The sound of the flushing toilet tells me I have only a couple of minutes to decide what to say, and I keep coming up blank.
The moment I see her face, I’ll want to give in. Tell myself it could work. That I can protect her.
But that’s a lie.
The pain of the realization threatens to level me, and I know what I have to do.
Fifty-Seven
Scarlett
When I step out of the bathroom, I try to shake off the lingering awkwardness I feel. What do you say after having the hottest sex of your life with a guy you’ve only known two weeks, but you’re pretty sure you’re falling for?
I silently rehearsed it in the mirror, and I can only hope it doesn’t sound as stupid as it did in the bathroom.
Gabriel’s back is turned toward me. I can do this.
I take the plunge. “I want to make this real. I want us to give this a shot. You and me. Together.” My voice sounds steadier than I expected, but the last few words still waver.
His entire body seems to freeze, and my heart hammers.
“I’ve never put myself out there like this before, Gabriel. I need you to know that. But . . . there’s something about you, and we need to see where this goes.”
After what feels like the longest ten seconds in the history of the planet, he turns to face me, and the only way to describe the expression on his face is one of complete devastation. And when he speaks, his voice is raw and ruined.
“Before you, I would’ve said there’d never be anything I wanted more than the life I thought I was supposed to have.” He lifts his tortured blue gaze to meet mine. “I know now that I was wrong. It’s you, Scarlett. You’ll always be what I want most. But I can’t have you.”
He drops his chin, breaking eye contact, and his words echo in my brain.
“You’ll always be what I want most. But I can’t have you.”
My breath catches as I comprehend what he’s saying. No. No. That’s not possible.
“What?” I ask, hoping I heard him wrong.
“You should go. And don’t come back, Scarlett. This isn’t happening.”
Pain radiates through my body like someone just ripped out my heart. And not just any someone. The man who turns and strides to the door . . . and walks out. Leaving me alone, wondering what the hell just happened.
Gabriel and Scarlett’s story continues in House of Scarlett and concludes in The Fight for Forever. Preorder them both now by tapping on the titles. You don't want to miss the rest of this epic romance! Keep reading for the first chapter of House of Scarlett and a sneak peek of Dirty Billionaire. If you haven't met Creighton Karas yet, you are missing out! Dirty Billionaire is currently FREE on all retailers, you can download it by tapping the title. Wondering what else I've written? There's a full list of Meghan March titles in both the front and back of this book! Get ready to binge read!
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Sneak Peek of House of Scarlett
ABOUT THE BOOK
Gabriel Legend is unlike any other man I’ve ever met.
He came into my life like a hurricane, shattering all my assumptions and preconceived notions.
I wasn’t prepared for him. I wasn’t prepared for any of it.
But life doesn’t wait until you’re ready.
Whatever happens next, I know one thing for certain.
I will never be the same Scarlett I was before I met him.
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House of Scarlett is available for preorder by tapping on the title.
Chapter One
Gabe
Twenty-five years earlier
The storm siren screamed in the distance as I shook Ma awake. “We gotta go. They said we gotta get to the shelter.”
Ma must have found a bottle she hid, because I’d already poured out everything I could find. But there she was, passed out on the couch again.
“Just a few more minutes,” she murmured. “I’ll go to work.”
If I wasn’t so worried about the storm coming, I would have snorted. She hadn’t had a job in over a year, and the little money she did get . . . I swallowed hard. Don’t wanna think about that.
“The whole park’s evacuating. We gotta go.”
Living in the middle of a bunch of tin cans in Biloxi meant that when the winds got to whipping up and the TV was sending reporters down to video stuff, we had to go somewhere safer.
“Go without me. I’ll be there later.” She patted my hand absently from the couch, and I clenched my teeth. “Good boy.”
Being nine sucked. I wasn’t strong enough to get her off the couch and out of the trailer; not yet, anyway. Someday I would be, though. Then no one would be able to tell me what to do, and those kids who stole my stuff on the way home from school wouldn’t be able to touch me.
I balled my hands into fists and dropped onto one knee. “Ma, wake up. We’ll get you another bottle at the shelter.”
Both bloodshot eyes popped open, just like I knew they would. “There’s a hurricane party?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
There wasn’t, but I’d say whatever I needed to say to get her moving. She wasn’t the best mom in the world, but she was all I had. And she loved me. She did. If it came right down to it, she’d pick me over the booze. I knew it.
“Okay, okay. I’m coming. Let me freshen up first. Need to fix my lipstick.”
She rolled off the broken couch, but there was no way I could let her look in a mirror. We’d never get out of the house. Her lipstick was smeared halfway up her cheek, her eyes were doing a good impression of a raccoon, and I didn’t want to think about the man who dropped her off last night with black tears streaming down her face. The second she stepped foot in the trailer, she was tearing it apart, looking for liquor. I went to bed, thankful she was home safe. I’d learned to block out the noise to get some sleep, but no one could sleep through the sirens. They were way too loud.
“You look great, Ma. Let’s go.” I hoped she’d forgive the lie, because we didn’t have time.
“Okay, okay. I’ll get my handbag.”
I grabbed it off the coffee table, which was piled with unpaid bills and ads for groceries we couldn’t afford because Ma drank the check that came from the government, and handed the purse to her. It was a miracle she actually paid our rent this month. I hated it when Tony, the park manager, came and threatened to kick us out and called us white trash.
I shouldered the backpack I’d loaded with all our important stuff—eighty-seven dollars she didn’t know I had from weeding and doing odd jobs for the neighbors, her inhaler that was down to its last few puffs, our birth certificates, and the pocketknife I found when the couple from Lot 18 ran off in the middle of the night without paying their rent.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.
Someday, things will be different . . .
One day, I’d be old enough to get a job and pay the bills. No one would be able to throw us out because the rent would never be late. There would be food in the fridge, and maybe even some Nutter Butters in the cupboard.
Before I got lost in my head, thinking about all the ways things were going to change when I was the one taking care of us, Ma tucked her handbag under her arm and straightened her shoulders. She was still pretty for a mom. Long blondish-brown hair—same as me. Bright blue eyes that were the color of mine. But hers were too pretty. Because she got herself in trouble every time a man noticed her.
“Let’s go, kiddo. Time to party.”
There was going to be hell to pay when she realized there was no liquor at the shelter, just people who were terrified of losing everything if the storm got worse like they said it could. But I’d deal with that later.
As soon as we stepped out of the broken screen d
oor, all I heard was yelling. Mary Jo, the nice lady from next door who always made sure to save me a cookie and paid me for chores, was hollering at Carl, her boyfriend, to hurry. She jammed her hands into her hair, messing up all the black waves. But when she saw me, she smiled.
“Make sure you get Gabe to the high school, Lauralee,” Mary Jo called out.
“Mind your own fucking business, bitch.”
Ma flipped her off as we walked by, and my stomach twisted into a knot. I gave Mary Jo a weak smile to apologize for my ma, but she was already shouting at Carl again.
“That fucking cunt thinks she knows everything. Well, she don’t have no kids. She’s got a man to take care of her. She don’t know shit.”
Ma wasn’t really talking to me, but I threaded my fingers through hers anyway and squeezed.
She glanced down at me and looked at our hands. “You’re too old to be holding my hand, aren’t you, boy?”
Something burned behind my eyes, but I shook my head. “I’m the man of the house. I can hold your hand if it means keeping you safe.”
Her face softened, and she blinked a few times. “You’re a good kid. I did a damn fine job with you.”
Around us, trailer doors slapped in the gusty wind while people rushed out to cars and pickup trucks, and shoved armloads of stuff inside them. But we kept walking. We’d get to the shelter before the storm hit, and if I was lucky, there’d be sandwiches and juice boxes like last year when they said we were getting hit with a hurricane but didn’t. Those sandwiches were even better than my school lunches, which were about as good as it got.