On The Ropes: Tapped Out Book 3

by Quinn, Cari

Goddamn, the man didn’t make idle threats.

  “Can I be rough with you?”

  That he asked nearly made me melt right into the floor. Not on it, nope, I was on the verge of dripping straight through.

  He unbelted my coat and cupped my breasts through the sheer material of my halter dress, thumbing my nipples hard enough to cause an echoing ache down below.

  And he was still waiting for an answer to his question.

  “Yes,” I gasped, linking my arm back around his neck. I hooked one of my legs around his calf too for good measure, not really caring if it made me seem super horny. I was, and I was owning it. “You can be rough.”

  “If it’s too soon…” His hands were already on the move, tugging up my dress to tear away my thong. He literally tore it and left the hot pink fabric in tatters on the floor.

  Couldn’t say I really minded.

  With anyone else, it probably would be too soon. And yes, he’d been involved in that awful, confusing, overwhelming night, but he’d also been the one to take some of the hurt away. His arms had always felt like a safe place, and nothing had changed.

  “It’s you,” I said simply, hoping he would understand.

  “And it’s you, which is why I need to do this.” He ripped my dress right down the middle, exposing my bare breasts and the bare rest of me. Before I could make a sound, he’d already spun me around and covered my mouth with his, thrusting his tongue in and out in such a lewd reenactment of sex that my thighs started to shake.

  He was kissing me. Finally.

  I gripped his massive upper arms and searched for some way to gain the upper hand of this situation, but I couldn’t. He’d taken complete control.

  Damn, I loved it.

  He moved fast, hiking my legs around his hips and shoving me into the door. The knob dug into the back of my thigh. Hell if I cared. Because as long as I got all of that inside me again—that being the thick, hard cock he was working frantically to free from his jeans—I’d happily take a few scrapes and bumps.

  I tried to assist him with shaking hands. In the midst of my attempts to help, I dropped my purse. I’d intended to offer him a condom, since he’d been right before about being on the safe side, and I’d just been too out of it Friday night to care.

  Turned out I didn’t need to, since he procured one from his back pocket and jockeyed me up the door while he fought to slide it on.

  His back pocket. Talk about easy access. Was that part of his job description too? Sure, he’d said he wouldn’t touch anyone while he was with me, but earlier tonight, we hadn’t technically been anything to each other. I’d danced long enough he could’ve screwed three chicks if he really wanted to.

  Chicks like Monique, with the long, glossy hair and vacant smile. I’d seen smiles like that before on the faces of some of the women I worked with, and I knew exactly what they came from. She’d been high on something. What was anyone’s guess.

  “Carly.”

  All it took was him saying my name to distract me from thoughts of other women. He’d given me his word on that score, and I wanted to believe him. The only thing that mattered right now was the swirl of his fingertips over my clit while his condom-covered erection flirted with my already soaked entrance. I was drenched for him. Beyond. Every part of me hot and eager.

  I bumped my hips, urging him to stop teasing and take. His rough chuckle whispered over my mouth. “Greedy little thing.”

  “Just fuck me.” I tipped my head back and thrust out my chest, enjoying his swift inhale. He liked my breasts. I bet he was wishing right now he had another pair of hands. One to hold my ass in place, the other to—

  “Ah, shit,” I gasped as his teeth closed around my nipple and turned the pulse between my legs into a throb. I could feel my wetness saturating the space between us, and he must’ve been able to too, because he groaned and thrust into the swollen clasp of my slit, not quite entering me but close. “Put it in, dammit.”

  This time, he didn’t laugh. Didn’t do anything but oblige me, snapping his hips forward with enough power to slam my head into the door.

  Oh, yeah, I saw stars. The good kind. And the bad.

  “You okay?” he panted.

  “No. Yes. Maybe.” He circled his hips, dragging his thick length over all of the overstimulated nerves inside me, and I decided I’d just keep my eyes closed and worry about possible concussions later. “Oh, shit. Harder. Please, harder.”

  He gave me harder, so hard that the back of my thigh bumped the doorknob again and I jammed my bandaged pinkie into his shoulder. I tried to stifle the cry of pain, but he instantly stopped. “What? Did I hurt you?”

  “My finger. Ow. Never mind. Just…this.”

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “I’m sure.” I grinded my hips into his and he groaned, his fingers working hard between us. I was so swollen and slippery, and every time he flicked my clit, I clenched around his cock embedded deep inside me.

  He stayed still for another beat then started to fuck me in earnest again, drawing back and driving forward in long, smooth strokes that nearly made my eyes roll back in my head.

  And this time, not in pain from one of my many sex-related injuries.

  I fought to do my part, bouncing up and down on him the best I could in this position. I angled my lips over his, not censoring my moans or sounds of pleasure. We weren’t kissing, just panting into each other’s mouths while he destroyed me with every pump of his cock and brush of his fingers and I squeezed him for all I was worth.

  All too soon, I could feel myself hurtling into the wall. Crashing through to the other side, where the only thing I could do was cling to him and cry out, lost to the sensations coursing through my body.

  “That’s it, tesoro. Soak me. Fuck, yes,” he said into my ear, prolonging my orgasm and making it almost painful.

  I was still coming, or still recovering—I wasn’t sure which—when I realized we were moving. His cock remained inside me, wedged deep, as he shuffle-walked across the living room and up the hall. “Damn jeans,” he muttered, bumping into the walls more than once.

  Somehow even in my sex-drunk state, I managed a giggle. More like a wheeze, but the intent was there. He lightly smacked my ass, jiggling his cock inside me, and I whimpered like a cat in heat. I did it again when he dumped me on the bed and ranged his big body over mine. He disengaged us long enough to help me remove my coat and boots, though he seemed to debate whether to take off my thigh-high tights before moving on to remove his own clothes.

  His boots, jeans, and boxers came off first. Every slice of skin revealed was a wonder. The man was a work of art. He tugged off his shirt from behind his head, giving me a glimpse of golden skin encased in myriad colorful tattoos and sheened in a faint layer of sweat.

  Damn. Double damn.

  I was still admiring him when he spread my legs, pulled back, and plunged.

  “God, Gio.” I cried out, hell, I probably screamed. He didn’t stop for a second, gripping my waist in tense fingers while he slammed home again and again.

  Looming over me, skin-to-skin, he fisted his hand in my hair and used it for purchase while his hips battered mine. I felt puffy and used, my whole lower half throbbing with the continual assault. He was huge, and I was…not. Even his thighs pressing my legs open made my muscles burn. I wasn’t used to sex like this. Not this hard, or this wild.

  So deliciously rough, just like he’d promised.

  His rosary dangled near my face, slapping my cheek. The dagger hovered too close and I was in such a haze of lust, of endless need, that I leaned up to catch it between my lips. When he groaned, I almost didn’t feel the pinch in my lower lip, or the blood that bloomed.

  Almost.

  Even as I released it, I tasted the result. Luckily, the cut seemed tiny, and oddly enough, only drove my desire higher. I reached down to grab the taut swells of his ass, reveling in the flex of muscles as he thrust again and again. My pinkie protested, probably bleeding again too, b
ut I didn’t care.

  My world was his cock buried inside me. So deep we weren’t two people but one, joined in the most primal way possible. His heart banged against mine, relentless. And I gasped against his damp throat, drawing in deep breaths of his sweat and his cologne and the scent of our joining, musky and warm and secret.

  Just like us.

  He widened his stance between my legs, pushing them up until they draped over his arms. He spread them out, making my muscles quiver as he surged into me again and again. I closed my eyes and pinched his ass with my nails, pulling him into me with every bit of force I could muster.

  And held on while the spasms gripped me from the inside out, sending me flying.

  His shout dimly hit my ears, though his mouth hovered close to mine. The roar in my head blocked out almost everything except his unsteady breaths against my cheek as he pounded out his orgasm in my pliant, quivering body.

  He dropped down on top of me, an oddly pleasant weight. I was still twitching with aftershocks, our sweat-slick skin stuck together.

  Underneath him, I felt fully possessed for the first time in my life. I hadn’t been fucked. I’d been owned.

  At first, I liked having him on top of me. Not that he seemed to be moving anytime soon. Then my heart rate picked up, and my breaths began coming too fast. My lungs cramped from the lack of air. I tried to turn my head away to find a clean source of oxygen, but the heat in the room was stifling. He was crushing me. His pelvis rested like granite on top of mine, and inside, I felt too full. Painfully so.

  Dots swarmed in front of my eyes, and I shoved at his shoulder, desperate. “Please,” I gasped, and I didn’t even know what I was begging for.

  To give me room. To let me breathe. To make this panic go away.

  He rolled off me almost immediately. “Carly?”

  I sat up and buried my face in my hands, well aware that my shoulders were shaking. That I was shaking, inside and out.

  “Tesoro, what is it? Are you okay?” He took care of the condom, then slid his hand around the back of my neck. Instead of his touch steadying me, it made my skin prickle. “Carly, look at me.”

  I couldn’t. He would see how messed up I was. How I so wasn’t okay, though I kept telling myself I was.

  He wrapped his arms around me, and I burrowed into his embrace because I didn’t know what else to do. How could I have been so fine, so absolutely perfect, five minutes ago and so wrecked right now?

  “It’s not like Mia,” I mumbled against his throat. “It’s not. It’s not.”

  He stroked my hair and laid his cheek on top of my head. The steady thud of his heartbeat and the gentleness of his touch set me back to rights. Or at least closer than I’d been.

  I eased back and he cupped my face. “Better now?”

  I nodded, feeling foolish. I wasn’t even sure what had happened—what kept happening—so I couldn’t tell him. It was some kind of panic attack, but I’d never had them before.

  Only one person I knew had suffered through something similar, and there was no way I could ever confide in my sister. She’d lose her mind if she found out about the events of that night. Some sick, twisted part of me had gotten off on it, while the rest of me was still trying to figure out how to make sense of what had occurred.

  There was a lot I was trying to make sense of. His involvement with them, for one. It wasn’t on the table for discussion, and even I knew when pressing wouldn’t get me anywhere. If I pushed him on what he was doing with them, he’d shut down. Then he would shut me down, and all of this would end.

  It was selfish, maybe, stupid, definitely, but I wasn’t ready for that to happen. Not when he lit me up like Christmas inside and kissed me like I was the answer to all of his questions.

  “What happened to Mia?” he asked, so softly that I almost didn’t hear him.

  Horrified that he’d heard my rambling before, I shook my head. “No. Nothing. I was just upset—”

  “She was hurt. Somehow. I knew that before a few minutes ago. I’ve picked up things…” He blew out a breath. “I can’t ask her, and I won’t ask Fox. But I promise you, it’s not just curiosity making me ask. I care.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, thankful that at least they were dry. “It’s not my story to tell.”

  “That’s not true. You love her, and if you were there, you have a side of it as well.”

  He made it seem so reasonable to share what had happened. I’d been carrying the burden of Mia’s secret for all these years, because I didn’t want to do anything to hurt her or to cause her embarrassment. She had no reason to be ashamed, but she’d suffered so much that I didn’t want to make her load heavier in any way. Even considering speaking about those months so long ago felt like a betrayal.

  So I tipped my head on his shoulder and hoped he’d let it go.

  “You don’t have to tell me. I won’t press you. I’m just saying I’m here. For her…and you.”

  I looked up at him again, unable to stop from asking. “You’re not freaking out about last week. Is it because you’re a guy? Because what you do with your cock doesn’t mean anything?”

  He didn’t chuckle or act as if I was an imbecile for asking. I knew that couldn’t be true. He’d been bothered by what happened too. I’d seen him huddled over his Bible last week, for God’s sake. But he’d recovered, and he wasn’t shaking and trembling after sex like I was. And not for good reasons.

  “It means something. What happened affected me too, so much.” Carefully, he undid my tangled and snarled ponytail. “I just freak out in a different way.”

  “The Bible.”

  He nodded. “Yes. It was my mamma’s.”

  “Was?” I frowned. “Is she…” The way his face closed up told the tale without me saying the rest. “Oh, God, Gio, I’m so sorry.”

  I knew all too well what it was like to lose your mother too young. And your father. And the happy homelife you’d had for what felt like way too short a time, only to watch it end in a fingersnap.

  “Thank you. It was six years ago, but it doesn’t feel that way. Not here.” He held my hand to his heart and the beat was uneven and wild.

  Just like it had been for us when we were locked together, except for a whole different reason.

  “No. Me either.” I swallowed hard and studied his darker fingers curled around my lighter ones. “I was eight when mine passed.”

  “The blood.”

  I lifted my head. “What?”

  “Mia said something about the blood earlier, and your mother. That it was why you didn’t do well with the sight of it.”

  “Oh. Guess I was passed out then. Or on the way.” I sighed. “She had an aneurysm. It’s an awful way to go. I found her, and by then, it was…too late. I blocked it out for a while after. Kinda my way of dealing. Mia fights in reaction to stress, and I go into denial.” I swallowed again and found that the lump in my throat hadn’t budged. “I so don’t want to be like this about sex every time. If sex is my new blood, that would really suck.”

  He smiled down at me, and though I knew he was probably laughing at me in his head, at least a little, there was no mocking in his expression. “We’ll have to make sure that’s not the case.”

  I linked my arms around his neck, grateful that they were steady once again. He’d helped just by being there. By talking me through it. By listening to whatever wacked out thing popped out of my mouth. “Someday, maybe I can tell you about Mia. My side of it, like you said. I guess I never realized I had a part of the story. It was hers, and I was a bystander.”

  “You’re never a bystander when someone you love gets hurt.” He brushed my hair out of my eyes. “She’s lucky to have someone so loyal in her corner.”

  “If you only knew the thoughts I’ve had now and then, you wouldn’t say that. I’m no angel.”

  “Neither am I, so you’ll find no judgment here.”

  Looking into his deep, dark eyes, I saw the truth in his words. Nothing I could say to him
would shock him, the guy with the attempted murder rap on his record and who knows what else. He’d lived a life far worse than my small crimes of sometimes thinking mean thoughts about my sister’s overprotectiveness. Or my warped sense of jealousy at all the attention she’d gotten over the years once anyone discovered what she’d lived through.

  I’d lived through something too. I’d lost my parents, and for three months, my big sister. My rock. She’d come back, but she wasn’t the same. And because she wasn’t, I wasn’t either.

  And even I knew how fucking pathetic and petty that sounded, even just echoing in my own head.

  For all these years, we’d both been broken. Her for real, and me by proxy. Last week had opened up the fissures I’d denied were inside me, turning them into big, gaping cracks.

  “I love her so much.” Shame heated my face. “I swear I do.”

  “I know. Anyone can see that.”

  “She doesn’t understand how I can be so free with my body, and for good reason, considering. But it was a power trip for me. I liked being a tease. I know that isn’t right—”

  “Did you ever lie to a man about what you intended to happen?”

  “No,” I replied quickly, hotly. “Never. I just flirted. Too much sometimes.”

  “You’re allowed to flirt and set boundaries wherever you choose. It’s the man’s job to respect them. To respect you, and himself.” He caressed my lower lip with the tip of his thumb. “You’ll never know how sorry I am that I was part of something that made you judge yourself harshly. You don’t deserve it. The things they said weren’t true, or right. It’s your body. You can dance or do whatever you want, and if someone has a problem with that, it’s theirs. Not yours.”

  I pressed my face into his chest, closing my eyes before the heat in them spilled over. “Thank you for saying that. For being here.”

  “I wish I could erase that night.” He pressed his cheek to the top of my head, and for a second, I wondered if the thickness I heard in his voice symbolized more. If his eyes would be damp too. “I’m so sorry.”

  I reeled back, lifting my head. “No, don’t say that. I don’t want to erase it.”