Drilled: (Hard 'n Dirty Book 7)

by Ava Sinclair

  “All my life I’ve done what I’ve been told,” she says. “I can’t do that now. I have two reports on my desk about serious safety violations noted even before this accident. My father is urging me to push back, but I want to know what I’m pushing against. I can’t spend time in the field without drawing his suspicion. I need somebody who will be my eyes and ears. Someone who will come to me with what they hear.”

  “And you’re asking me, a man you don’t even know.” I lean forward. “Why, Iris? Why me?”

  “Because…” She swallows again. I can see the thread of the pulse in her neck, quick like her heartbeat. I want to press my mouth to it. I want to run my tongue over the top of her upper lip, where beads of sweat are starting to form. She shifts nervously in the chair, uncrossing and crossing her legs. Is it my imagination, or do I catch just the hint of arousal in the heavy, hot air? My cock stiffens.

  She may be worried about the accident. She may be worried about her job. She may be worried about her father. But she didn’t just come here to get my help. Her lips are parted, the unspoken answer lodged in her pretty throat. I stand, hovering over her, and cross my arms over my bare chest. She looks up at me. Her breathing quickens. I reach down and gently put my hands on her shoulders, drawing her to standing. I have to know. She came her for my help, but that help is going to put me at risk.

  If I’m going to take that risk, it’s go big or go home. My eyes are riveted on hers as I reach for the hem of her dress and draw it up. Her hand moves down to take hold of my wrist. She doesn’t look away. She doesn’t push my hand away either.

  “Why did you come here, Iris?”

  She drops her gaze, but the hand on my wrist is pulling me farther under her dress.

  Chapter Eight

  Iris

  I didn’t come here for this.

  I came here for information. I came here for help. At least that’s what I told myself. The truth is, I didn’t accidentally find the motel. I looked up Cal’s employment file, intending to call him, only to find that his cell phone number no longer worked. This hotel room as his temporary address. Yeah, I could have called him here, but I wanted to see him. I had to see him.

  I didn’t come here for this, but my pussy is throbbing at the feel of his hand on my ass. I’d meant to stop him, to push him away. But I’m so weak—so weak and so wet. I’m eye level with his chest. He’s so much bigger than I am. He smells like sweat and heat and oil. His arms are dirty from work.

  I’ve never fucked a dirty man.

  But that’s not what’s happening here. I know as soon as he unzips my dress that I’m the one who’s going to be fucked. I may be the boss’ daughter, but Cal Beaumont is in control.

  I gasp as he deftly unhooks my bra, releasing my breasts from the confines of the lacy cups. He pushes me back on the bed. I’m clad I’m only in my shoes and skimpy, soaked panties. He is silent, but his eyes speak volumes. They burn with a feral desire that scares and excites me. He looms over me. He’s still wearing his pants, but I can feel his cock straining through the fabric.

  The bedspread is rough, his hands rougher still. I gasp when a palm covers my left breast, my back arching as a calloused finger rubs my nipple to a hard, aching peak.

  My own hands go up, sliding over the slick mounds of his shoulder, moving down the swells of his back. He slides down, his hot mouth latching on to my nipple, breaking my silence as my cry joins the whine of the ineffective air conditioner.

  “God….” I cry out the word, my fingers curling in his thick black hair, my upper body arching once more to the moist heat seared to my breast. His teeth score the sensitive flesh, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body that settles between legs spreading of their own accord.

  What am I doing? This isn’t who I am!

  Somewhere the voice of reason tries to call me back, but the sound of my own lascivious moans drowns it out. Cal’s hand has slipped inside my tight panties to roughly grasp my ass cheek. I gasp when he suddenly flips me over. I’m on top of him now, straddling his crotch. He pulls his hand away, ripping my panties away from my body. His hands move to my waist.

  “I need to know what you taste like.” He easily lifts me so that my pussy is over his face.

  I feel a flush move through my whole body. I’m no stranger to oral sex. Other lovers have gone down on me. But none like this. Cal’s huge hands are holding my hips like a vice as he captures my clit in a sucking bite. He’s not being gentle. I may be on top, but he’s in charge. My legs grow weak as the waves of my first climax hit me. I feel his broad tongue lapping away the flood of arousal from my quivering pussy. Each lick ends at the top of my cleft, brushing my still throbbing clit. His beard is rough against my shaved mound. I put my hands on the wall behind the headboard for support. My thighs are shaking from the force of my orgasm. I can barely breathe. The hot room around me is spinning.

  “Cal…” There’s a plea in my voice and his face disappears from beneath my legs. He’s behind me now, his arm around my waist, supporting me. His huge hand is in my hair. The barrette holding it has popped out and it’s loose in his grasp. Cal jerks my head back.

  “Do you want me to fuck you?” His voice is deep and warm in my ear, a molten growl. “If you want it, you have to say so.”

  I can smell the musk of my arousal on his hot breath. His chest is slick and hard against my back.

  I can still walk away. There’s still time. He’s giving me an out. I can feel his strength, but also his restraint. I feel something else, too— the sharp stab of shame at how deliciously filthy it feels to have the spike of his cock pressing into my ass through his pants. The fabric is all that separates me from the feel of him thrusting into my drenched pussy, from being claimed by a man I’ve only just a met, a man from a world so different than mine. I feel like a fawn in a tiger’s grip.

  Do you want me to consume you? The tiger is asking.

  “Yes,” I say. “Yes, please.”

  I expect him to take me from behind. I hope he will. But he is going to make me face what I’m asking for, to face him. Cal rises from the bed, turning me around. His eyes command me to lie down. I obey, reveling in his dominance. I look down at my own body. There’s a smudge of grease on my side. The insides of my thighs are slick. The room smells like sex. I’m still wearing my pumps. Who knew daddy’s girl could be such a little slut. I almost climax again from the thought of the change that’s come over me.

  Cal is beside the bed, those big hands slowly undoing the clasp of his belt. I’m mesmerized by those hands, by what they have already done. My ass aches slightly from their squeeze; my nipples tingle as if those calloused thumbs are still abrading them.

  He pushes his pants and briefs down together. His cock, released from its confines, springs up in freedom amid a thicket of dark curls. It’s huge like the rest of him, the knobby head crowned with a drop of pre-cum, the length mapped with a network of thick raised veins. My lips part, as I imagine him holding my hair and shoving that beautiful cock in the back of my throat as I whimper in submission.

  What is wrong with me? I’ve always given head as a perfunctory act, but I want to taste Cal like he tasted me, want to know if his flavor is as salty and earthy as I imagine it would be. I don’t get the chance, though. As soon as Cal steps out of his pants, he lowers himself over me, and I feel the power of his naked body against mine. I’m delicate next to him, my skin slick with sweat. The whine of the air conditioner is barely a hum, the hot air of the room pressing us together. The only illumination is a shaft of early evening light coming through the slit in the room’s blackout curtains.

  Cal lowers his mouth to mine. The tongue that just delved between my nether lips now parts the lips of my mouth, fencing with mine as his hands roam my body.

  “So beautiful,” he says. “You’re so damn beautiful. Spread those legs for me, baby.”

  It’s the same commanding tone he used when he told me to get in the truck, the simple comment stirring something in
me that I didn’t even know existed, something manifest now as I part my thighs, crying out with something deeper than fulfillment as he pushes himself into me. His girth stretches me to the point of pleasure pain. I whimper as my legs go around him, sinking my teeth into his shoulder as our sweat-slick bodies begin to move, sliding against one another. I close my eyes, imagining our bodies as some kind of carnal machine, his cock a drill, plumbing and plumbing my well of pleasure. The sound of his breath, his moan…it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. I hug his slim hips with my thighs, the heel of one shoe spurring his back, urging him to fuck me harder. He heeds my wordless request, his hips moving like a piston, his heavy balls slapping against my ass.

  “Come for me. Come for me now!” His tone is intense, the dark eyes more so. I can’t breathe, can’t speak. I can only fall into the void opened by the quaking climax. The shockwave that starts as a quiver becomes a strong ripple that milks his cock. He tenses just before I feel the sensation of his hot seed washing into me. My legs squeeze in time with his spurts. I hear a cry and realize it’s mine, realize that whoever is in the next room must have heard.

  I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. When it’s over and I come back to my senses, I will. But for now, for the first time in my life, I feel free.

  Chapter Nine

  Cal

  Would I have stopped myself if Iris had asked me to? It would have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done with a woman. Harder, even, than walking away from Sadie. I was with my ex for three years, but she never made me feel like this.

  No woman has.

  In the back of my mind, I knew what I was doing was wrong. Wrong for me. Wrong for Iris. I gave her the chance to stop it. I made her tell me she wanted it, and I think my heart almost stopped while I waited for the answer while pressed up against her.

  Iris Tremaine is above my pay grade, and I’m the last thing she needs. After fucking her, being fired would be the least of my worries if her father found out. And I’m sure I don’t have to tell her what he’d say if he knew. He wasn’t shy about his opinion of people with my shade of skin.

  Maybe that’s why she’s so quiet. After my cock had pumped the last of my cum into her, I’d stayed sheathed in her slick softness, reluctant to withdraw. When I’d finally gone soft enough to slide out, my seed seeped out behind it.

  She feels so damn good. I could be hard again in just minutes from the feel of my cock pressed against her pretty ass, from the thought of my cum in her body. I control myself, though. I know she can’t stay the night.

  As if reading my thoughts, Iris slowly sits up then rises from the bed. She looks around the sweltering room as if disoriented. I switch on the lamp as I rise from the opposite side. Wordlessly, I pick up the shreds of her panties laying on the floor by the corner of the mattress, the pretty dress, the lacy bra. I walk to where she’s standing and hand them to her.

  She takes her things, keeping her eyes on the floor as she mumbles her thanks. I sigh, put my finger under her chin, and tip it up until she’s looking at me.

  “Iris,” I say, “I don’t feel bad about this and neither should you. The only way I’d feel bad is if you had a man. Is that it? Is there someone else?”

  “No,” she says, then darts her eyes to me. “Do you? Have someone else, I mean.”

  I think of Sadie, of how she left me because she deserved someone more successful. On the floor I see the pumps that probably cost more than my ex made in six months at her nail salon job. The irony isn’t lost on me.

  “No,” I say. “There’s no one else.”

  Iris turns to pick up her pumps and walks to a chair, where she places the dress and shoes.

  “Either way, we can’t do this again, Cal.” She pauses once the bra is on, then turns to pick up the dress. “I mean…it’s not that I didn’t like it. It was the best…” I can see her charming blush in the room’s low light. “It’s just…”

  I move to where she’s standing, putting a finger to her lips. “You don’t have to explain. I understand.” I move my hand away, cupping her face briefly, then step back. She puts on the dress.

  “I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have asked…”

  “I’ll still help you, Iris.”

  She smooths the dress, her expression registering surprise. “You don’t have to. It’s not fair for me to expect you to take that kind of risk.”

  “Some things are worth the risk. I’ll help you.”

  She picks up her purse. “Thank you.” She fidgets with the handle before continuing. “We’ll have to be careful. We can’t be seen together.”

  “Understood.”

  Iris tucks a strand of golden hair behind her ear. “I have to go.”

  I walk past her to the door. “I’ll watch from the window to make sure you get to your car safely.” I’d love to get dressed and walk her out, but I know she wouldn’t want that. As it is, when she leaves she looks nervously from left to right, as if expecting her father to jump out of the bushes. Only when I see her car pull from the lot across the street and head to the better part of town do I shut the door.

  The air is like a sauna, hot and still. It smells like sex. I need to go to the front desk and ask someone to replace the air conditioner in the window. But first, I have to take a cold shower. The smell of Iris on my body will drive me crazy if I don’t.

  Chapter Ten

  Iris

  I drive back to the hotel in a fog of disbelief at what I’ve done, of how damn good it felt. As soon as I got in the car, the first thing I did was to switch off my phone. Bunny has called. So has my father. I can’t talk to either of them. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to break the spell Cal Beaumont has cast over me, body and soul.

  Back in my hotel room, I lock myself in the bathroom and face the mirror. My hands are shaking as I kick my heels off and undo my dress. My ripped panties are in my purse. I’m standing now in just my bra, and when I reach back to unlatch it, the cool air on my nipples reminds me of Cal’s calloused caresses.

  The sweat has dried on my body. My sweat, and his. He’s left himself on me. In me. I stare into the mirror, watching as my reflected image runs her hand over the light smear of grease left from his broad arm.

  He was hot and dirty and strong and gorgeous. And he wanted me in a way I’ve never felt wanted.

  I’m sorry, I’d said. This can’t happen again.

  Cal had agreed, and something about how readily he capitulated hurts. I know he didn’t see me as just someone to fuck and forget. I’ve been with guys like that, guys who won’t look you in the eye afterwards, guys who are only sweet long enough to get what they want. Cal said he’d help me, even if we couldn’t be seen together. He’d been kind and gracious, even offering to walk me to my car.

  But how can I see him? How can I talk to him without my pussy getting wet and my nipples drawing into hard, pained peaks eager to feel that hot mouth drawing on them? I turn on the shower, but hesitate to get inside. As the water flows in the empty stall, I stand outside it, turning again to my reflection in the mirror, moving my hands down to where his dried cum coats my inner thighs. I think of that hot mouth on my smooth labia, the insistence of it, the authority in the touch of a man who is no more than an entry level grunt in the empire owned by my father. A nobody, Roger Tremaine would say.

  I reluctantly step in the shower, leaning my back against the cool tiles as the water sluices down my well-fucked body. I squeeze body wash into a loofah, scrubbing my face, my neck, my breasts, my legs, saving my pussy for last. I slide my hands between my thighs, reflecting on the delicious soreness left in the wake of Cal’s huge cock. Even with his seed and sweat washed away, I’ll feel it tomorrow. The tenderness won’t fade right away. Just the thought of carrying this reminder has my pussy throbbing. I put my face up to the shower spray, letting it rain down on my hair as I begin to softly stroke my clit, reliving the moment of being suspended over that demanding mouth. I relive the feel of his c
ock sliding into me, the mounting pleasure, the starburst of ecstasy when I’d come.

  This man with his deep voice, intense eyes, and air of command. In a fantasy novel he’d be a god, a warrior, a prince in exile, come to save the princess daughter of the evil king. My fingers work harder and I cry into the shower as an orgasm ripples through me. It’s a shadow of what Cal wrung from me, but life is no fairy tale, and in the real world, the king holds all the power where the princess is concerned.

  There are no happily-ever-afters, not for people like us.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cal

  The hotel clerk said the maintenance man wouldn’t be in until morning. She offered me another room, but I didn’t want to leave the bed where Iris’s smell still clung to the sheets. I asked for and received a fan, so at least that got the air moving over my sweaty body as I laid awake thinking about what we’d done.

  Whenever I drifted off to sleep, I’d dream of her and wake up with a throbbing erection. Just before dawn, a storm had rolled in. Lightning flashed, sending pulses of brilliance through the slit in the curtains. Thunder cracked and rolled. The storm knocked out the power just before the first gray light of dawn filtered into the room to leave me sweltering in the still air.

  My mother’s sister could smell a storm coming. I can still remember sitting on the porch swing at her side, playing with a battered toy car. My aunt’s name was Rose, and like my mother, she had the profile of a queen, with high cheekbones, full lips, and well-defined chin. She wore a bright yellow head wrap and bangle bracelets.

  Whenever Aunt Rose commented on the nature, be it smelling storms or hearing messages in the sounds of calling frogs, my mother would protest.