Trick (A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel Book 7)

by Lane Hart

  “You-you wouldn’t,” I reply. “You said you wouldn’t have touched me if you had known…”

  “I wouldn’t have,” he growls, leaning down next to my ear, the warmth of his body heat invading and inviting. “But now that I’ve tasted you, been inside you, I don’t think having my hand in your panties would really matter all that much, do you?”

  “Ah, no. I mean, yes?” I try to respond, but I’m confused. What was the question?

  “Admit that you’re wet for me, and I won’t have to prove you’re lying.”

  “I-I’m not…” I stammer even as a flood of dampness coats my panties. And then I can’t figure out if I lied to avoid the embarrassment of admitting I want him or to see if he’ll actually do it.

  “My threats aren’t idle,” he warns me. His thumb and finger grip my chin to force me to look up into his golden eyes. Even with his aggressive words, I know he’s waiting for my consent and wouldn’t do anything to me without it. And that makes all the difference.

  “Good to know,” I answer, giving my nod of agreement.

  In the blink of an eye, Patrick yanks me over against the bedroom wall so he can close and lock the door. Instead of dreading the sound, this time’s there’s not revulsion but anticipation bubbling up inside me.

  Without lowering his gaze from mine, Patrick runs his fingers along the elastic waistband of my shorts before dipping them underneath. Each of his sideways swipes dip lower and lower over the sensitive skin of my stomach like the gentle swings of a clock pendulum until he reaches the top of my mound, causing me to inhale a shaky breath.

  “Last chance,” he warns, rubbing two fingertips in slow circles, barely grazing my clit. Just seeing his sinewy forearm disappearing down into my shorts causes my thighs to clench tighter.

  In response to his final warning, I grab hold of his brawny shoulders with both hands and go up on my toes, driving his fingers lower.

  “Fuck,” he groans softly when he encounters the hot, sticky, slickness that reveals my desire for him. “God, you’re so wet.” His empty palm slaps the wall beside my head. “Why didn’t you stop me? You were supposed to stop me,” he mutters, resting his forehead against mine as he starts to penetrate me first with one finger, before pushing two inside me while I keep working myself up and down on them. Our lips are nearly touching, but neither of us closes the distance as he fucks me with his fingers. I don’t kiss him because I don’t want to prevent the arousing words coming out of his mouth, but I’m not sure about his reasoning for holding back.

  “Do you get this wet for your fiancé?” Patrick grates out angrily through panting breaths that are traded with mine.

  “No,” I answer honestly, digging my nails into his shoulders to urge him to move his fingers in and out of me faster.

  “Just for me?” he asks, finally brushing his lips over mine.

  “Yes,” I tell him with a nod. Unable to resist, I run my fingers down his chest, over the contours of his washboard abs. And between the feel of his amazing body and his fingers inside me, my womb clenches.

  “Does he lick your pussy until you come on his face?” Patrick asks against my lips, and I shake my head, unable to speak as my hips begin to rock, chasing my orgasm that only he holds the keys to.

  “You came all over my face, though, didn’t you? Had no idea who the fuck I was, but you loved having my tongue inside your pussy. That your first tongue fucking, gorgeous?” he asks. He slips the wet tongue in question into my mouth and strokes my own suggestively, causing a shudder to run through my body so intense that my knees go weak and only Patrick’s hard body in front of me and the wall behind me holds me up.

  “Was it?” he prompts when he pulls his tongue back out. “Did I pop your cunnilingus cherry?”

  “Yes,” I moan. My eyes close when the pulsing and tightening starts around his fingers that are pumping harder and faster inside me.

  “Have you missed my tongue as much as I’ve missed tasting you?”

  “Yes!” I exclaim in a gasp as I tremble with the force of my orgasm.

  Chapter Seven

  Trick

  Mina is so fucking gorgeous when she comes, her head thrown back, back arched so that her breasts are being offered up to me through her pajama top.

  I slow down the push and shove of my fingers in her pussy until she stops clenching them, trying to keep them inside. As soon as her eyes blink open, I pull my hand from her panties and hold her lusty gaze while I stick my fingers in my mouth and suck her sweetness from them.

  “Mmm,” I groan at her arousing taste as my cock swells even more in my shorts.

  When Mina grabs my fingers and covers them with her own suctioning mouth, I nearly bust my load.

  Fuck that’s hot.

  But not as hot as her sinking to her knees, jerking my shorts down as she goes and sealing her lips around the head of my aching cock.

  “Holy shit,” I grunt in shock. One hand braced against the wall, I cup the back of her bobbing head with the other to try and slow her down to make this last.

  This is all so fucked up.

  I shouldn’t have taunted her when she walked in on me changing. And I sure as shit shouldn’t have fingered her knowing she’s not only my stepsister but engaged to get married in just days. But I couldn’t help myself. The weight of desire for me in her icy blue eyes was too much. The temptation too great. It may be wrong, but nothing has ever felt so fucking right.

  Now she’s just trying to return the favor, and fuck if I’ll turn down letting her suck me off as hard as my dick is for her.

  Goddamn it, she’s still taking me too fast. I’m not ready for this to end so soon.

  Threading my fingers through her dark waves, I pull on the strands to stop her.

  “What?” she looks up and asks in confusion, her lips red and swollen.

  “Slow down. Tease me a little. I want to savor this shit,” I tell her.

  With a smirk, she fists my cock and then flicks her tongue rapidly over my leaking tip. Back and forth, back and forth she licks me. Sweet, sweet torture.

  “Fuck. Changed my mind,” I say between pants. “Deep throat me until I come.”

  With a quick nod of agreement, Mina starts slurping and sucking on my cock like she can’t get enough of it. And, God, does she know how to deep throat, taking my length to the back of her throat and applying mind-blowing pressure when she swallows around it. Her asshole fiancé is one lucky son of a bitch if she gives him blowjobs this damn incredible even though he doesn’t eat her out.

  Shit.

  I don’t wanna think about her with some other asshole, because then I’ll feel guilty along with another emotion that I’m all too familiar with…envy.

  Right now, with her wet mouth sucking my dick, I can push those feelings aside and enjoy the pleasure she’s giving me. Is it wrong? Fuck yes. Do I care about anything but coming at this particular moment? Fuck no. There’s only one question I need to know the answer to.

  “You gonna swallow for me, Wilhelmina?” I ask, pushing the jet-black hair from her face.

  Her glassy blue eyes look up at me before she hums her agreement. That’s all it takes to snap my restraint. My grip tightens on her hair as a reflex when my entire body tenses. A second later, my cock jerks and then pulses as my release shoots down her throat. Any concerns I had about her wanting to take my load is forgotten when she greedily sucks me dry.

  After she releases my softening cock from her mouth, I pull my shorts back up and stagger over to take a seat on the bed before my legs give out on me.

  “You’re really fucking good at that, sis,” I tell her as she gets to her feet and moves across the room to one of her dressers. Fuck, I haven’t even recovered yet, and I want her on her knees again for me. I wouldn’t mind throwing her on the bed and crawling between her legs to taste her either.

  Mina doesn’t respond to my comment. Instead, she pulls a bathing suit out and starts taking her clothes off. Seeing her bare, heavy breasts
is enough to get me hard again; but when she turns her back to me, I see the scrapes on her shoulders and thick red welts across her bottom.

  “What the fuck happened to your ass?” I ask her, springing to my feet and storming over for a closer look.

  “Nothing,” she says quickly, pulling her swimsuit bottoms up and turning around to face me. The look in her icy blue eyes tells me all I need to know. She’s lying, and the welts obviously hurt like fuck with the pain still evident on her face.

  “How did you get those marks?” I ask again, but she ignores me, probably intentionally trying to distract me by tying on her bikini top and lifting her boobs to adjust each one in the cups.

  “Mina?” I ask, grasping her forearm when she tries to walk past me. “Did your fiancé do that shit to you?”

  “That’s none of your business,” she says sternly before jerking out of my lax grip without meeting my eyes. Her avoidance tells me all I need to know. He did this shit to her, and I want to find the bastard and choke the life out of him for it! How could anyone hurt her on purpose? Sure, when I saw her ivory skin, I wanted to suck a few marks on her neck and tits, see red abrasions from my beard, but nothing that would last more than a few minutes. Mina reminds me of a porcelain doll, perfect, flawlessly beautiful but incredibly delicate. She deserves to be with someone who takes care of her, not an asshole who tries to break her for fun.

  “Why are you marrying someone who hurts you?” I can’t help but ask her, fighting the urge to brush her dark waves out of her eyes so I can see her face and try to read from her gaze what she’s not telling me.

  “He doesn’t hurt me,” she replies, not even coming close to convincing me.

  “Oh, so those marks felt good? Some sort of kink?” I ask sarcastically. She remains silent, and it aggravates the fuck out of me. “Fine. Here’s a better question. Why are you marrying him in less than a week when you can’t stop fooling around with me?”

  Finally, she raises her chin and meets my gaze. “You suddenly decide to show up out of the blue and think you know me? You don’t know shit about me other than how to get me off, so you don’t get to play the protective older brother now!”

  Her words sting, making me feel guilty for not making more of an effort to keep in touch with my family, but I’m not giving up that easily.

  “Either you tell me the truth or my fists will be having a little talk with your groom. Maybe give him some lessons on how to get you off too since he doesn’t seem to know how to do it,” I threaten.

  I’m pretty sure all the air in the room is sucked into her parted lips.

  “Please don’t, Patrick. I’m begging you,” she says, looking up at me with watery eyes a second before they fall again to where her fingers are fidgeting with the diamond ring on her finger. “I love Derek, and I know he loves me, too. We agreed we could, um, fool around with other people before we get married. Sow wild oats, get it out of our system or whatever before the wedding. That’s it. That’s all this is. Was. I swear it won’t happen again. Please don’t mess this up for me.”

  I bite down on the inside of my cheek when I understand the meaning of her hurtful words. All I am to her is a last hurrah before the big day when she’ll say a few vows and ride off into the sunset with another man. It was stupid of me to think that after the night at the club that there was something deeper between us. Love at first sight doesn’t exist, and neither does love at first fuck. How stupid was I for starting to fall for the first woman I’ve slept with in nearly a decade? Pussy-whipped at its worst. Yet, there’s still something about the whole idea of Mina getting married that doesn’t make sense, and I don’t want to give up on her. Imagining never touching her again after how fucking incredible it felt to hold her, kiss her, taste her, fuck her…I’m not ready to call it quits. Her conscience sure as hell was absent on Saturday night and just a few moments ago.

  “So let me get this straight,” I start, taking a deep calming breath as the most wonderful solution comes to me. “You and the man you’re marrying agreed to fool around with other people?”

  She swallows so deeply I can hear it before she nods. “Yes.”

  “Were there any limits on when you had to stop?”

  “What?” she asks with a scrunched forehead.

  “Did you agree that you could screw off behind each other’s backs until the big day?”

  “What does that matter?” she asks.

  Because if so, that means I still have four more days to make you mine.

  Those words float up from the depths of my soul, and I quickly grasp onto them like they’re a life preserver. Maybe it’s delusional or desperation, I’m not sure. But the thought of Mina marrying some asshole who hurts her and who clearly isn’t satisfying her in the sex department is unimaginable. So I’ve got four days to do whatever it takes to convince her to call off this idiotic wedding. With one orgasm at a time, I’ll fill her head with doubt. And maybe, at the end of it, she’ll even see me as more than a good time. More than a mistake.

  “Why do we have to stop fooling around?” I ask her.

  “I’m getting married on Saturday, so I think I have enough guilt to last me a lifetime,” she answers.

  Shit.

  “Come on. In the big scheme of things, what’s four more measly days before you spend the rest of your life with him.” Never gonna happen. “A long, boring life of shitty sex from the sounds of it.”

  “You can’t be serious,” she mutters with a shake of her head. Turning away, she rummages through the closet and then pulls an emerald halter-top dress on over her bathing suit.

  “I’m very serious,” I say to her once she’s facing me again. “Tell me you don’t want to feel my tongue between your legs again.”

  A gasp parts her lips, and her blue eyes widen.

  “It’s already been there before. What’s the harm in just a few more times?” I ask. “You haven’t said any vows yet. Besides, you and the asshole agreed to fool around anyway, right? Unusual, but whatever.”

  “No,” she answers; that one word popping my bubble of hope.

  “No. Wow. Okay,” I grumble, turning my back to her so that she can’t see how disappointed I am to be rejected. Again.

  Finding my duffle on the floor, I toss it on the bed and start shoving my shit inside. “Then I probably need to get the fuck out of this house, stay at a hotel or some shit, because I can’t promise that what we just did won’t happen again. Hell, maybe I should just get my ass on a plane and go home,” I ramble. “I’ve done enough damage here. If my father finds out…”

  “Wait! No,” Mina exclaims so suddenly that I freeze with a pair of boxers in my hands. “Don’t go. Please.”

  Well, hello there confusion, my good friend. Nice to see you yet again.

  “It’s not a good idea for me to stay here,” I tell her. “Even now, after what we just did, I already want you again, and my restraint is incredibly low after nearly a decade of being celibate.”

  “Fine,” she agrees. “Stay here, in my room, and we’ll keep this going. But we need a few rules.”

  Holy fuck, I hope she’s not yanking my chain.

  “Okay, name them, sis.”

  She could ask me to get a tattoo of a cock and balls on the side of my face, and I wouldn’t hesitate. Being with her is so damn good, even if it is just for a few days.

  No, I’m not gonna think that way. I need to be optimistic instead of my usual pessimist self. There’s no fucking way she’s gonna marry some douchebag Saturday.

  “Thank you,” she replies, looking genuinely relieved as she sinks down onto the mattress. “Um, well, obviously no one can find out about us.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Not even Derek. There’s no reason to throw it in his face, just like I wouldn’t want to know who he was with…”

  “Agreed,” I say through clenched teeth since it would be so fun to rub the shit in his face. Ah! Another great idea. If I can’t get Mina to cancel the wedding, maybe I
can put pressure on the asshole groom to do it. Now I have two chances to make this work. My odds are looking better and better.

  “Anything else?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Friday at midnight this ends, whatever this is,” she says.

  “Stroke of midnight,” I say with a wink and a tug on my cock through my shorts that makes her grin. “Got it, Cinderella.”

  Only in this story, instead of her leaving behind her shoe at the ball, I want her to ditch the prince and leave with me, her roughneck stepbrother.

  Chapter Eight

  Mina

  Thirty minutes after I sucked Patrick off in my bedroom like the dirty slut I am, we’re in my silver convertible with the top down heading toward the ocean. I fell in love with this car the first time I saw it. To me, it looked like freedom. Although I knew two years ago that I couldn’t escape my stepfather, this beautiful car gave me the illusion that, when I’m in it, I can pretend at least for a few minutes that I’m free of that asshole and his abuse. It was also fun to actually rape him for once on the nearly two-hundred-thousand-dollar price tag. While he may think throwing away money on my every whim somehow makes up for his years of torment, I do it just because I can. It’s the only way for me to get back at him.

  Unlike the car, most of the clothes, shoes, and jewelry I buy with his credit card hang untouched in my closet until Cassie asks to borrow something. And I gladly give her anything she asks for with the price tags intact. I would be perfectly happy wearing a baggy tee and yoga pants for the rest of my life while driving a beat-up lime green pinto and making a living on my hands and knees scrubbing floors if it meant my sister and me being free of our wicked stepfather for good.

  Patrick’s sitting next to me in the passenger seat, still looking edible in his boardshorts, a white tee and reflective aviator glasses hiding his eyes. Bridgette’s in the backseat, her eyes burning a hole in the back of my head. She was right down the hall the entire time Patrick and I were fooling around, so it’s possible she heard…something. I just hope she’ll pretend to ignore it, at least until I can talk to her alone and try to explain.