Dirty Love (Dirty Girl Duet #2)

by Meghan March

  “Listen to me. I swear on my life, I would never let anything happen to you. Three years ago, you knew I wasn’t like any guy you’d ever met before. I’m still not like them. As far as I’m concerned, you belong to me, Greer, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting your brother stash you somewhere I can’t get in contact with you. There’s only one person I trust with your safety—me. I will always protect you.”

  She unleashes a sound somewhere between a howl and a scream of frustration as she struggles against me.

  Fuck it. I’m following my gut.

  One moment I’m thrashing against Cav, determined for him to feel something approaching what I went through in that damn bag, and the next moment I’m facedown on his lap with my sleep shorts tugged down.

  I don’t have time to react before his palm lands on my ass with a slap. I suck in a breath to scream, but it doesn’t make it to my lips.

  He lands smack after smack on my ass, and I forget about everything else except for the spot every strike lands. I focus on the pain, the burn, the need for more.

  How is it possible this is calming me down and centering me rather than sending me into another blind rage?

  I shift against Cav’s lap again, but this time, it’s because of the growing heat between my thighs.

  There’s something wrong with me. I shouldn’t react like this.

  But there’s no getting around it because I am. I love how he takes me in hand and doesn’t ask permission. Cav is giving me something I didn’t know I needed until that exact moment.

  By the last few strikes, I’m arching into his touch. Seeking it. Needing it. How is it possible for me to forget all of his transgressions the moment he puts his hands on me?

  Whether I’ll admit it to him or not, I can at least admit it to myself—I missed him. All of him. Why do I crave his kinks? Is this why I’ve never been satisfied with a sexual relationship before? Because I needed this . . . dirty little extra? Or is it because I just needed Cav?

  I arch up, expecting another blow, but instead his palm lands softly on my ass and kneads my skin. The burn intensifies with every squeeze. When his fingers slip between my thighs, I know exactly what he’s going to find, and I nudge them open wider.

  Shameless in this moment, I want him to feel how wet he makes me. I want my man to know how badly I need him right now, how badly I want him to fill me up with his fingers, and then his cock, and help me block out these last days of confusion and frustration.

  I want to forget the bombs of truth Creighton dropped on us and go back to being the us that we were in Belize before that morning. I want all the things I told him I wanted—the things I thought I could actually have for those few days.

  Can that ever be my reality? Or is this doomed to be nothing but a fantasy?

  When Cav slides a finger through my slickness, I know this is no fantasy. This is real, and I need him. Now.

  I open my mouth to beg, but Cav pulls my shorts up, flips me over, and settles me on the seat beside him.

  The cockpit door, already half-open, swings open the rest of the way.

  “We’re ready for takeoff, Mr. Westman. Please make sure your seat belt is fastened.”

  The pilot doesn’t make eye contact with either of us, and I’m grateful. A flush spreads along my cheekbones as I think of what he might have witnessed had Cav not been so quick to move me.

  When Cav buckles me in and the plane begins to move forward, my hands are still bound behind my back. “I’ll get you loose after we take off, as long as you think you can behave.”

  His lifted eyebrow doesn’t make me want to slap the expression off his face anymore. There’s something else I want from him right now.

  “I don’t care if you keep me bound as long as you make it worth my while.”

  A flash of surprise streaks across his face, but it doesn’t last long before his greenish-gray eyes heat.

  “You want me to take care of that wet little pussy? Make you come? On my fingers, my face, and then with my cock?”

  I shift on my seat, pressing my thighs together to ease the ache he’s caused.

  “Ah, baby girl. We’ve got a long flight, so you better believe I’m going to take you every way I want to.”

  “Where—”

  Cav presses a finger to my mouth to silence me. “No questions.” He trails the pad of his index finger along my lower lip. “Now, suck.”

  He’s a brave man when only minutes ago I was trying to bite him. But he’s gambled correctly because right now I don’t want to bite that finger. I’ll use it to make his need rival mine. He’s going to lose his mind with hunger for me. Besides, I want that finger intact so he can fuck me with it and make me come.

  Greedy? Who cares. I’m the one who got kidnapped and spent some of the longest minutes of my life in gut-wrenching fear. I deserve several orgasms to make up for it. Our come-to-Jesus talk can wait. Right now, I just want Cav. I might still want to kill him later, but not right this moment.

  I suck his finger into my mouth, laving it with my tongue and lips and dragging lightly down it with my teeth.

  As we hurtle down the runway, I make promises to him with my eyes. Take the restraints off or don’t; I’m still going to want you.

  Cav reaches out with his other hand and cups my breast, covered only by the soft material of my thin T-shirt. Chill bumps prickle along my skin when his fingers close around my nipple and twist.

  A moan escapes my lips, and I press into his touch. We say nothing until the captain announces that we’ve reached our cruising altitude.

  Cav removes his seat belt and mine before hauling me back onto his lap.

  “Jesus Christ, woman. Feel what you did to me.”

  He presses his hips up and against me, and I wiggle my ass against his cock’s solid length.

  “I want it.”

  “Good, because I’m going to lower you onto your knees, unzip my pants, and help you take it down your throat. And then I’m going to lift you up on my lap and slide your pussy down my cock until you’re full of me.”

  His dirty talk kills me every time.

  “What are you waiting for?” I ask, my tone taking on a seductive depth.

  “Need to taste you again first.”

  His lips crush to mine, and his tongue dives inside without waiting for invitation. Cav kisses like he does everything else—throwing his whole self into it. His hand is buried in my hair, tilting my head the way he likes. I moan into his mouth, loving the urgency radiating from him.

  Finally, he pulls my head back, his eyes greener than before. “On your knees, baby girl.”

  I nod as he helps me to the floor, the plush carpeting cushioning my position. Cav unzips his jeans and fists his cock as he pulls it out. As I lean forward, my hair falls around my face, but with my bound hands, I’m helpless to pull it back.

  Cav wraps one hand around the tangled strands and clenches it behind my head. I’m at his mercy, and yet I’ve never felt more powerful. The need in his eyes burns into me, and I want to give as much as I want to take.

  She’s fucking beautiful. A goddess, and yet she’s kneeling at my feet. I don’t deserve this woman, but I won’t hesitate to take every advantage to ensure I can keep her in my life.

  Greer’s lips close over my cock, and my hands in her hair help guide her movements. Fuck. The nights that I was away from her, refusing to believe I’d never get her back, I dreamed of all the things we did in that house in Belize.

  She sucks my cock with enthusiasm, as if working me over and making me come before I’m ready is going to gain her a prize. I can’t complain, though. I’ll let her try and when I’m about ready to blow, I’ll tug her perfect mouth back and follow through on the rest of my promise.

  Just the thought of sinking into her pussy has my balls drawing up around the base of my dick. This is going to be a hell of a lot shorter ride than I planned.

  I give her another minute before I pull her up into a standing position and tug her
flimsy little shorts down her legs. They’re still bound at the ankles, which puts a wrench in my plans.

  Unless . . . I turn her around and pull her ass onto my lap, her pussy centered over my cock.

  “You want this?” I shift so the head is tucked between her legs, nudging at her entrance.

  “Yes,” she whispers as she sinks down and takes it all.

  “Fuuck . . .”

  “Oh my God.”

  Our words are lost as I grip her hips to lift and lower her over my cock, helping her ride me and take me deeper with every thrust.

  Greer’s head drops back, her hair spilling down around her shoulders.

  I reach further around her hip and press two fingers down on her clit, wanting her orgasm to come fast and hard before I lose my own control. She grinds herself against my fingers with every stroke, her moans growing louder and louder. She’s on the edge, and her pussy is clamping down on my cock.

  “You’re coming with me,” I order.

  “Yes,” she says on a moan. “Now.”

  I fuck my hips upward harder into her and pull her down at the same time, unleashing both our climaxes.

  Greer’s head falls forward, and our hearts hammer in time for long, unmoving moments.

  “You okay, baby?”

  She nods, dropping her head backward onto my shoulder.

  “We need to get you cleaned up.”

  She nods again, and I wish I’d had the forethought to grab something to clean up with. Spying cocktail napkins on the table next to the couch, I lean us both over and snag them before handing them to Greer. I help her stand and clean up before unbuckling the restraints on her ankles and arms, and knead her muscles and joints.

  “Bathroom is in the back. Your other bag is under the seat. I grabbed it from the bedroom so you’d have clothes.”

  Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Greer’s head snaps around and her gaze lands on me, fury and hurt dominating once again.

  “I still can’t believe you freaking kidnapped me.”

  “I did what I had to do. I needed you out of there, and I wasn’t going to ask your brother’s babysitter for permission.”

  She shakes her head. “You could’ve knocked on the door like a normal person, and after I’d cried a little, I might have let you in. But no, you had to be the badass mobster’s kid and break into the house, tie me up, gag me, and stuff me into a fucking bag. Who does that?” Hysteria invades her tone, and I infuse mine with authority.

  “Go clean up. We’ll talk about this when you’re done.”

  Greer’s expression hardens into a cool mask. “I don’t know why you think I’m taking orders from you. You don’t own me. You might have said that you love me, but I’ve never felt rage like I did the moment after I realized I wasn’t being sold into white slavery and instead was being terrorized by someone I thought I could trust once upon a time. You lied to me, and I can see it in your face—you’ve got no remorse.”

  “You’re right. I lied. I don’t regret it. I wouldn’t change a thing because it meant I got to have this time with you. You can expect me to play by your rules all you want, Greer, but it’s never gonna happen.”

  Her hands ball into fists, and she drops her gaze to the carpet. When she looks me in the eye again, it’s with a straight spine and the posture of a queen.

  “And the phone and Wi-Fi? Cannon said you messed with it to keep me cut off. Like some kind of crazy person.”

  She may expect me to lie again, but I won’t. “I had to keep the outside world away. We needed that time to figure out what could be possible for us.”

  Greer studies my face, dissecting my answer. “And you’d do it again, wouldn’t you?”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes. When you’re the prize, there’s no lines I won’t cross.”

  Her eyes narrow. “I’m no one’s prize. Go fuck yourself, Cav.”

  I’m not expecting the slap, so when it lands on my cheek, my head snaps sideways.

  She walks with dignity toward the bathroom at the back of the plane, and I wonder if I’m going to be able to dig my way out of this.

  Her words echo in my head. I’ve never felt rage like I did . . .

  Moments later, the sound of quiet sobs escape from the bathroom, gutting me. Fuck.

  After making quick work of the lock on the door, I pull it open and Greer is hunched over the vanity, her shoulders shaking as she cries out all the emotions of the last few days. I pull her into my arms but she struggles, beating against my chest.

  “I hate you. I hate how you make me feel. Why do you do this to me? It wasn’t enough to crush me three years ago? You had to come back and do it again? What kind of sick bastard are you?”

  Her fists connect with my chest over and over, and her tears soak my T-shirt. But I say nothing and hold her tighter.

  I’m not letting her go.

  I’m not this girl, the one who breaks down and cries in bathrooms. I’m not prone to outrageous emotional displays, crying jags, or pounding against a man’s chest as I tell him I hate him. But somehow, I’ve become this girl with Cav.

  Is it because I’ve never felt anything so strongly before him? That means something. Doesn’t it? Have I been floating through life on this boring plateau where my emotions were always on the level, barely veering up or down? Do I want to go back to that? The colorless world where everything is fine and acceptable rather than amazing, but sometimes gut-wrenching?

  You can’t have the sweet without the bitter, and as much as I want to tell Cav to stop screwing with my heart and my head, I already know what my life is like without him.

  Gray. Bleak. Acceptable.

  I want more than that. And dammit, I want him, even if he’s crazy enough to think kidnapping me is a good plan.

  With that realization, my pounding fists become grasping fingers that curl into his shirt and draw him closer. His arms tighten around me, one hand cupping the back of my head and pulling it to his shoulder.

  Can I accept this? Him? Even with the lies he has told me?

  I know myself well enough to realize I can’t move forward with him until I let go of the anger and betrayal.

  Tears continue to fall, but instead of tears of anger, there’s a cathartic force behind them. When they subside, Cav’s grip on my hair loosens and I lift my head to meet his gaze.

  “What are we doing?” I whisper the question in an unsteady tone.

  “Working on having something beautiful.”

  “Do you think that’s even possible for us?”

  “You have to fight through the darkness to appreciate the beauty in the light. That’s what we’re doing. Fighting through the dark shit between us so we don’t take for granted what’s on the other side. If it were easy, would it be as special?”

  His words make a weird sort of sense, and even though they don’t seem like typical Cav, his serious expression says he means them absolutely.

  “How do we get there?”

  Smoothing his hand through my hair again, he tilts my head back further. “We start over. A new beginning where we leave the past behind.”

  The concept is as seductive as it is simple.

  “The past has its claws hooked deep in us.”

  Cav releases me before setting me away from him a step. “Are you more than Creighton Karas’s little sister?”

  I blink at the sudden change in subject and tone. “Maybe not to everyone, but absolutely.”

  “There are a hell of a lot of reasons I left New York, but the most compelling one is the fact that I’m not just Dom Casso’s bastard kid. That’s my past. It has nothing to do with who I am now. I don’t take orders from him. I don’t fall in line. My future is a lot bigger than the life I had in New York. In Hollywood, I’m Cav Westman. I’m my own man, and I’ve worked my ass off to become the kind of man you could respect. I’ve made my way on my own merit, not with my name, my connections, or anything else.”

  I understand what he’s saying and can respect
it, because as long as I stay in New York, I’ll always be Creighton Karas’s little sister. Be catered to because of my name and my connections. Any job I get will be obtained through the network my family ties allow me to be part of. The idea of stepping outside that bubble into a world where I have to make my way solely on my own merit like Cav did is equal parts terrifying and invigorating.

  Can I do it? Am I going to have that chance? Cav is watching me, waiting for a response.

  My reply is completely honest. “You’ve always been the kind of man I could respect, Cav. You didn’t have to change anything for that.”

  His gaze drops to the floor for a beat before meeting mine again. “You know what I mean.”

  “I think you’ve always been harder on yourself than anyone else would ever be.”

  He shrugs and turns the conversation back to his point. “So, what do you say, Greer? Fresh start? New beginning? You and me trying to make something real together? No pretending this time.”

  He holds out his hand, offering it to me. All I have to do is take it, and he’ll lead me out of the darkness and into the light.

  It’s time.

  As I reach out and wrap my fingers around his, the anger I’ve been harboring since the morning I left Belize releases.

  No pretending this time.

  It’s not quite daylight when we step down the stairs of the plane onto the tarmac. A black SUV waits for us twenty feet away, a driver in a suit standing next to the open door.

  Cav and I were both quiet after my epic breakdown on the plane. So many thoughts battered my brain as I changed into clothes more suitable than my pajamas. Yes, I’ve agreed to a new beginning and let go of my anger, but the rawness of my feelings hasn’t disappeared quite yet. Trust is a fragile thing, and gluing the pieces together of something that has already broken twice before is a difficult task.

  I want to trust Cav, I really do, but it’s going to take time. No pretending, which means I need to get there for real. He can say all the right things, but I need to see them in action before my instinctive wariness will fade.