by SM West
Our proximity is intoxicatingly dangerous. I can’t resist her. Her flawless, creamy flesh has been screaming, all night, to be touched by me. The knuckles of my right hand softly caress her jaw from her ear to chin. Unable to stop there, the pad of my thumb runs along her lower lip and then gently presses down on the center of her plump lip.
“Listen to me,” I slowly and deliberately thrust my hips, grinding her core. Gasping, she sinks her teeth lightly into my thumb. Jackpot. Her eyes on me. Her warm, wet tongue swirls around the top of my thumb, tasting and teasing me. It’s a struggle to keep my focus. The little minx. I growl.
“Tonight’s been all around shitty. I wish I could’ve told you about Gia, I mean Nina Hale, before showing up with her tonight. She’s my partner.”
She noticeably freezes, her teeth now viciously biting my thumb. Completely caught by surprise, I thrust once more into her core. A breathy moan escapes her lips. Her teeth free my thumb. I release her lip.
Two bright red teeth marks line the top of my thumb. It should piss me off. It doesn’t, in fact, it does the exact opposite. She’s marked me. Claimed me. I’m hers. She’s mine. The thought shoots a wave of hot desire down my spine, straight into my already tight balls. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to survive this woman.
“Not like that. She’s Coop’s replacement. She was out of line tonight. Took things too far.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” she says indifferently. “Stop it. I do,” I release on a low rumble.
My hand’s now around her throat, my thumb gently pressing against her pulse point, the rapid flutter evident against my thumb. As fucking hungry as I am for her, I’m also fighting the laughter building inside of me. Tate wouldn’t find amusement in this.
I’m explaining myself to her when she’s right; I really don’t owe her anything. Not as FBI or as a man sleeping with a woman, a married woman no less. I’ve never answered to any woman I’ve been involved with or felt the need to. Yet here I am, singing like a canary. “Gia and I have history. Forever ago and it’s over. Nothing’s there. She wanted to get a rise out of me.” I realize my poor choice of words when she bitterly laughs and scowls. “Well, she sure did,” she snaps. Easing up on my hold, I stroke her silky throat tenderly, pinning her with a deep stare. Shit, Max wasn’t the only one to catch me sporting wood on the dance floor. The thought of Tate seeing that with Gia pressed up against me, burns like gasoline. Another fucking explanation is needed. The only good thing about this is her reaction.
Her resentment tells me she cares. She’s jealous, seems like we both suffer from the green-eyed monster. Pain and anger fill her eyes. I’ll kill Gia for putting me in this position. Hurting Tate guts me. She’s the last person I want to harm. The only woman I’ve ever deeply cared for. My admission stills me.
“Tate. Nothing’s there. I don’t want her. At all. In case you missed it, I was looking at you. Couldn’t take my eyes off you. Thinking about you. The sight or thought of you has me fucking hard. All. The. Time.”
“Whatever,” she aloofly mutters. The marked heat in her eyes and the deepening flush of her cheeks belie her tone. “Like I said, you don’t owe me anything. What we did was a mistake. It won’t happen again so feel free to do whatever you want with Nina.” Her dismissal, pushing me into the arms of another woman, jars me. She’s hurt, lashing out. Her giving up isn’t what I expected. She never backs down, even when she should. I have a hard time believing she means it with the lust written all over her face and rolling off her in waves. Is she forcing herself to believe it?
It’s too soon to tell if what we’re starting will last. There’s so much going on right now, there’s no time for us to figure shit out. One thing I know for sure, I’ve never felt like this before about any woman. We’re not fucking ending. Pressing further into her, her luscious breasts rub against my shirt, my groin grinds into the sweet spot between her thighs. She emits a sexy whimper. Releasing her wrists, both my hands slowly and achingly skate down the sides of her wicked body. I could do this, touch every inch of her, all night long.
My thumbs skim the side and under her breasts, my hands mirroring the dip and swell of her waist to the end of her dress. Unable to resist, my fingers trace the hem, gliding along the silky fabric, teasing her smooth, creamy thighs.
Arrested in action, her eyes deepen with a yearning. Her hands dig urgently into my shoulders like I’m her lifeline. My hand eagerly rubs her silky inner thighs, pushing them apart.
Wider and wider still, till the hem of her dress is taut, stretched. Her lacy panties are drenched. No denying her arousal. She’s ready for me. I can smell her need. Stroking her core, her fingers clutch onto my shoulders, she releases a whimper on her exhale. Her lids partially close.
“Open your eyes. Look at me.” Without hesitation, she obeys. “I want you, Tate. Only you.”
I slowly lower myself onto my haunches, my hand still circling her clit through the thin, saturated material. Bunching up her dress around her waist, she’s exposed to me. My fingers return to worshipping her most intimate spot. My other arm moves up, across her abdomen, fondling the smooth, tender skin between her breasts, palming her supple flesh. Through the dress, I gently pinch her hard, distended nipple. Instantly arching her back, her chest thrusts into my palm.
“I need to taste you.” My breath a whisper on her sex.
I pull her barely-there underwear to the side, revealing what I most crave. My tongue swipes her slit. Upon first taste, I moan into her core. She’s tangy and sweet all at once. I can’t get enough of her. This won’t work for me. I can’t have all of her with this scrap of cloth in the way.
I pull back to remove her underwear, impatiently tugging it down her long, lovely legs. Tate releases a groan. Her eyes closed, scrunched up like she’s in pain. I know better. She’s rivaling herself, her emotions. She wants this despite telling herself she shouldn’t. More and more, I’m learning to read her.
Her panties lay discarded on the ground. I dive back into her warm, inviting pussy, dripping for me. As I devour her, her fingers thread through my hair. Succumbing to the need, I’m an addict surrendering to my next high. I’m dining on her like she’s my last meal. Her whimpers and writhing only encourage me. She tenses, her hold tightening on my strands.
“No,” Tate says forcefully.
Her fingers are twisting and yanking on my locks, she tries to pull me up. I stop my greedy feasting and glance upwards, puzzled. She stares down at me, conflicted.
“No,” she repeats less emphatically than before.
Slowly standing, my hands ghost the planes of her body, moving upward and landing on her breasts. My thumbs tease and rub her nipples through the silky, thin black fabric. She pulls in a shaky breath and releases a tiny, almost inaudible, moan.
“No what?” I ask as forcefully as she’d protested. “No, you don’t want me to eat you? No, you want me to stop? No, you don’t want me?”
I’m deliberately challenging her, pushing her to face her indecision. Tate barely blinks. Her hands are curled into fists at her sides. Contemplating.
It’s evident she’s desperately trying not to touch me, yet her natural instinct is to embrace our intimacy. Her eyes say it all. Even though she continues to fight it. Fight us.
“You don’t want me?” Her eyes now squeeze shut. “Say it, Tate. I’ll stop only if you tell me to. What do you want?” my voice is thick, gravelly and demanding.
She whimpers, opening her turbulent eyes. Warring with herself, her teeth bite down into her lower lip, nibbling with worry.
“I…I want…I want…you,” she says quivering.
With a breath-stealing kiss, she tastes herself on me as our tongues tangle in a battle of desire, obliterating all of her misgivings. The shift is subtle, the moment she gives herself fully and completely to me. Her body melting into mine. Surrender.
Her arms wrap around my neck with her fingers feathering through my hair. One leg wraps around my hip as s
he cups my ass and pulls me closer to her heated center. We continue our kiss, nibble on each other’s lips, gently biting her neck as I move down and across her collarbone.
I can’t resist skimming my fingers along the tempting valley between her breasts. Pushing her dress off her shoulders, her arms are forced to fall to her sides, trapped by the fabric, taut, revealing her fucking fantastic tits. My mouth consumes her breasts as I suck, lick and bite at her velvety smooth skin.
“I only want YOU,” I murmur against her milky skin.
“Ry, I need you. I need more,” she begs.
Using me as leverage, Tate pushes me slightly back, wriggling her arms free from the confines of her dress. Her fingers frantically undo my belt buckle, button and zipper, releasing me. I’m hard and aching with need, the warmth of her fingers gripping me. Seeing my cock in her small, pale hands nearly has me exploding.
“Up,” I command.
She readily folds her legs around my waist. Pinning her to the door, my cock drives hard and deep into her heat. Tate releases a moan and cries out with my firm, fast pumping, deep into her. I capture her carnal cries with my mouth, willingly consuming all of her desire. Tate’s head rests back against the door, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Tate, look at me.”
Her brilliant green eyes open instantly, latching onto my eyes as we ride our wave of ecstasy. Our rough and wild rhythm builds, blooms and threatens to explode. I don’t want to ever stop. It’s never felt this good before. If I could, I’d stay here forever with my cock deep and snug in her wet, tight pussy.
She madly and freely moans my name. Hard, soft, slow, fast, hearing my name on her sexy lips, chanting it like a prayer spurs me on. A few more frantic thrusts and she comes apart, tensing, clinging, squeezing my cock as her orgasms rips through her. I’m not far behind.
Willing my knees to not give out, one, two, three hard and deep thrusts, rapture shatters and scatters throughout me. Clinging to each other, slick with sweat, our breaths are short and ragged as we come down.
As if on cue, our euphoric bubble pops with the first bang of Max’s fist on the door. Tate jumps at the vibration, clinging to me.
“Tate, are you okay?” he yells, trying the knob.
She’s still catching her breath and groans in frustration at the disturbance. I bang back on the door with my fist.
“She’s fine. We’ll be out in five minutes,” I shout.
“I want to hear from Tate,” he growls back.
Seriously, if he wasn’t a pain in my ass right now, I’d like this guy. He cares for his sister, something we have in common.
“Max, I’m fine. We’ll be out shortly,” Tate hollers. “Sorry,” she softly says to me, running her fingers through my hair.
I rest my head on her collarbone, breathing in her scent. The smell of us. Fuck, I’m still inside her and semi-hard. I could go again, soon, if it wasn’t for the fact we shouldn’t be doing this here and now.
With one final, deep kiss, I slowly pull out. Bloody hell, I didn’t suit up. Fuck, I’ve never forgotten to use a condom. Christ. I look up at Tate, it’s like she’s reading my mind.
“It’s okay, I’m on birth control. I’m clean. I get tested monthly because of…” She trails off, leaving the unspoken yet apparent reason hanging in the air.
“I’m clean too,” I’m quick to reassure.
In silence, we get dressed. I help Tate pull her dress down over her hips and up onto her shoulders. I can’t resist massaging her breasts as I carefully position the fabric over them. She smirks and rolls her eyes.
I nab her panties from the floor. She holds her hand out for them. Deliberately avoiding her, I straighten my shirt. Her panties firmly clutched in my palm.
“Ry, give those to me,” she insists when it’s evident I’m not giving them back.
I stick the tiny, damp, lacy fabric to my nose, gloriously inhaling long and deep. Smells like heaven. No way she’s getting these back. Tucking them into my pant pocket, I pat it for good measure.
“Uh-uh, these are mine now,” I reply with a chuckle.
“Seriously? This dress is short enough as it is. You expect me to walk out commando?” she hisses.
“That dress is sexy-as-fuck, although I’d prefer if you hadn’t of chosen something so seductive.”
“I didn’t. Bobby bought it for me. If you haven’t noticed, he likes to show me off like his little thing. To be seen and not heard,” she snaps.
The mention of that jackass has me tensing. I hate the idea of the asshole dressing her. Even if she is a knockout in the dress. Her mood’s also souring with the mention of her husband.
Gently grabbing the back of her neck, my hands tangle in the silky strands of her hair. Pulling her closer, both my hands rest behind her neck, my fingers framing her face. Her hands loop around my wrists, anchoring herself to me. A growl slips out as her tongue wets her lips. I’m fighting to contain my urge to go another round.
I crush my lips to hers, my tongue forcing entry into her soft, sweet mouth. I like to kiss, but it’s not something I do for long. Although, with Tate, I could kiss her for days and still not be satisfied. Her taste is addictive; her little whimpers and moans drive me wild with want. Max bangs on the door again. Damn, his timing sucks.
“We better go,” she says.
With one more quick kiss, she pulls back. Before completely separating, her long, delicate finger slowly traces my lips, a tremor skitters through me, as her eyes pierce my soul. The tender warmth of her look deeply touches me and disturbs me. It’s like she’s committing me to memory. Taking me in as if this is our last time. Her look is intent, intimate and final.
MAX SCOWLS AS RY WALKS past by him, down the hall toward the dance floor. Never turning back, not even once. I want another glimpse. After being with him, our hot, frenzied sex leaves me wanting just one more look in his ocean blue eyes. But it’s better this way.
That was the best sex of my life. I can still feel the hot prickle of his scruff between my thighs. And his mouth. Kissing, licking, sucking at my core like I was his last meal. It was breathtaking and mind-blowing. I’ll never forget him.
Max’s throat clearing breaks my daze. He grins. I’m not ready for the interrogation that I know is coming. As I grab our coats, Max hooks his arm around my neck, tucking me into his side.
“Lucy, you’ve got some ‘splaining to do,” he mimic’s Ricky for I Love Lucy laughing at his poor imitation.
I can’t help but laugh. It’s Max, my brother and best friend. No matter how awkward the conversation is going to be, I’m ecstatic he’s home, even if it’s only for a few days.
“You smell like sex, so before you try to think of something to tell me, I already know what went down. Besides, I also heard more shit than I cared to. So, talk.” He’s serious and no longer laughing.
“In the car.”
“You’re playing with fire and I don’t like it,” he states the obvious sternly.
He’s right. We are playing a dangerous game. The finish line is in sight. If anything goes wrong, it won’t end well for us.
“In the car,” I repeat.
“Fine. I have to piss. Wait for me by the exit. The car will be here in five.”
It’s crowded and loud though Nina, or Gia or whoever the hell she is, is hard to miss. And lucky me, she’s heading my way.
I’m confident in who I am despite my husband. I’m not weak or easily intimidated. The one positive thing my mother gave me is the encouragement and belief in myself and being comfortable in my skin.
I also appreciate another woman’s beauty. Not with envy, with admiration. Nina Hale is gorgeous, yet admiration doesn’t come to mind. With her rich chocolate hair and eyes, and curves to die for, she’s a younger version of Monica Belluci. Well maybe not quite as pretty. Close enough. Unfortunately, her personality tars her looks.
Strutting, her chest juts out and head held high in her short bodycon dress.
“Where’s Rylan?”
she snaps.
“I don’t know.” I’m deliberately vague and indifferent.
Scornfully eyeing me from head to toe, she folds her arms under her ample chest. I’m not impressed. The way she acted tonight says it all. She carried on like a bitch in heat and I’m surprised she didn’t try to hump Ry in front of everyone.
“Fine. If you see him, tell him I left.” Rather than leaving, she inches closer, trying to intimidate. She fails. “This is short lived, you know. It won’t last,” she sneers.
“What is?” I ask in my well-learned cold, detached manner.
“Whatever it is you think you have with Rylan. He may be all gaga over you right now, but it won’t last. He’s not the relationship type. He likes the chase. And more importantly, he’s risking his job. When it comes down to it, he’ll ditch you before losing his job. You’re just pussy,” her words are soaked in acrimony.
She finally leaves. While she bothers me, the one thing that sticks out is that she called him Rylan. It’s too personal for my liking. They’re colleagues. He’s Wolfe to her. Rylan is mine.
I have to let him go. I’m not a martyr. I wish things could be different, even though we’d never work. He’s too good for me.
I’m the daughter and wife of criminals. Our worlds don’t mix. He puts my kind behind bars. And because of me, this attraction we have, he’s risking it all. I’m selfish. I was selfish once before and it cost another man his life. I won’t do it again.
Pangs of guilt and remorse arise at the thought of Griffin. I love him, always will. He’s dead and buried. Because of me. I owe him my life.
Max curls his arm around me. I’m so happy that he’s here. We’re best this way. Together. I only wish it wasn’t short lived. Hopping into the car, he commands, “Spill.”
His concern has my lips curling upward. It’s Max. He’s the only one in my family that I have genuine emotion for. And Bobby hates it, the loyalty I have to my brother.