by Shayla Black
Mark closed his eyes, but couldn't escape that sick feeling, as if he'd been punched in the gut. Was it possible he had again fucked a woman who was just as intent on fucking him outside the bedroom?
He dialed Rafe again, who answered on the first ring.
"That was quick," said his brother-in-law.
"These records are all bullshit," Mark confirmed.
"We figured they would be."
"Yeah, it's just ... Nicki is so smart and together. I don't see how she's letting this happen under her nose. So I'm wondering..."
"If she's involved? Why would you think that?"
Mark sighed, feeling dread slide through his gut. And something that felt suspiciously like hurt. Damn, he wanted to deny the possibility. But it was possible ...
"She tried to avoid any personal interaction with me from the minute I walked in the door. I've spent some time with her, but not any quality time, if you catch my drift."
"Yeah."
"So, today the club is closed, and I get this voice mail from Nicki to come see her at her place at five o' clock. I go up there and try to convince her that Bocelli is no accountant and that he may not be honest. She basically defended him, told me to get my nose out of her business, then informed me that she had invited me over for sex."
Rafe choked. "Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack. Afterward, I get the subtle hint that this is a one-night thing, which is odd since she invited me and things went well. When she drifted off, I slipped out of her place to find Bocelli coming up the stairs, probably leaving Nicki's office, and all the bank records in a file cabinet that, I think, only Nicki has the keys to. Worse, a whole bunch of money changed hands while Nicki and I were busy. Coincidence ... or by design?"
Mark shrugged, but inside denial raged. Fury grew. Would a woman that smart and successful participate in such a scheme? He wanted to say no. God knew he did. They'd connected in bed, not just sexually. For the first time since his marriage, he'd felt something with a woman besides the release of getting off. He'd felt her, the woman he sensed she didn't share easily. The wants she'd never told anyone. Her need to let go. Both her insecurities and her sexual confidence. For that, he'd wanted her fiercely, so deeply it scared the hell out of him.
And now this shit.
He shouldn't be surprised, he supposed. He had terrible taste in women. The badder, the better. After an ex-wife who'd been a thief and married him to frame him for her crime, why shouldn't he be interested in a woman with secrets of her own, like being a money laundress?
His temper soared until Mark wondered if the top of his head would pop off from the pressure. Had Nicki invited him over at just the right time, then spread her legs for him to distract him, to cover up the fact she was involved with Bocelli both personally and criminally?
"Maybe I'm answering my own question," he growled to Rafe, seething inside. "Maybe Nicki isn't unaware of what's going on with her accounting records. I can't see her being duped like that."
Rafe paused. "Wait. Look at this logically. If Nicki was involved, why would she imagine that she needed to distract you while Bocelli shuffled money around the globe? For all she knows, you're just one of the dancers."
"Until this morning, yes."
"What did you do?"
Mark held in a curse, mentally replaying this morning's scene in Nicki's office. "I got up bright and early to get a peek at Nicki's records while everyone else should have been asleep. But Bocelli was already there, messing with Nicki's books. He saw me peering over his shoulder while I was mentally adding numbers. I told the asshole he was doing it wrong and that things would change now that Nicki had competent help. No doubt Bocelli told her about the altercation."
"Maybe. Even if he did, if Nicki isn't involved in this scheme, why would she care what the jerk said?"
"Bocelli let me know that he's fucking Nicki." "You sure he's not lying, just to jack with you?"
Mark wished like hell it was that simple. That Bocelli was just being his usual prick self and talking smack just to piss him off. That Nicki hadn't invited him over while Bocelli was breaking the law, and he hadn't fallen for it like a stupid panting sap ... But he had.
No wonder she'd given him the proverbial nudge out of her bed before drifting off to sleep. Now that the damage was done, she didn't need to distract him anymore, at least not today. And she had to cool the sheets down before Bocelli returned to crawl between them.
Damn it! After the initial fury had worn off, Tiffany's perfidy had left him feeling numb and hollow. In retrospect, he'd been more disturbed that he'd been deceived than crushed that he'd lost his wife. This ... was different. Hell, yes, he was pissed at Nicki's deceit, furious actually--but equally angry that whatever chemistry they'd shared, whatever could have been, was already history. He had no idea why he lamented that fact, but he did. He'd actually liked her.
But then she'd planned it that way.
"I don't think Bocelli is lying. Why else would Nicki defend the thug? Or let him do her accounting?"
"Any chance you could find some way to ask her, at least about Bocelli? One thing marriage has taught me, brother, is good communication is golden."
What he and Nicki shared wasn't a marriage--by any stretch. In fact, it was rapidly looking like a race to see who could fuck each other over the worst. "Tipping my hand at all could make Nicki suspicious and get me killed. Better just to assume that Bocelli telling me he's Nicki's main squeeze was the equivalent of a dog lifting its hind leg."
"True."
"Bocelli acted jealous before I touched Nicki. Why would he, unless he knew I was going to touch her? And how would he know that, unless they'd cooked up a scheme for her to distract me?"
"Hmm. Those are good questions. The situation looks a little shady. Just make sure you think everything through. Nicki isn't Tiffany, and I'd hate to see you jump to conclusions."
"Why would I?"
Rafe hesitated. "Tiffany hit you with some heavy shit, man. With the divorce and the trial and everything, it didn't seem like you spent a lot of time sorting it all through before you moved on."
"What was there to sort? She fucked me over, so I ended the marriage. End of story," he returned, teeth gritted. "Don't worry. I've got my head screwed on straight."
"Well, from what you said, it's definitely possible Nicki is involved. There's enough of a smell to make it all seem fishy. I'll get you a report on her from my local P.I." Rafe sighed. "I'm sorry, man. Watch your back ... and anything else that might get hurt."
Nicki woke to the sound of a slamming door. Groggy, she sat up and glanced around her shadowed bedroom, only to find herself alone..
Disappointment dragged her shoulders down. She frowned. What time was it? How long had she been asleep? The clock told her a little over an hour.
Had that slam been Mark leaving?
Gosh, she hoped he wasn't upset that she'd nodded off. It wasn't her fault that he'd pressed her into such amazing orgasms she'd practically lost consciousness. Or was he upset that she'd lied about having an appointment tomorrow morning ? The thought made her wince.
Heavy footfalls coming down her hall alerted Nicki to the fact that someone had entered her apartment, rather than left. She had no time to be afraid of who it might be before Mark filled the door frame, eclipsing the light that spilled in from the living room.
He gripped the portal, shoulders tense. His mouth was a taut line. His hazel eyes were flat, hard, as he raked an abrasive gaze down her naked body.
Alarmed by his stance and stare, she gathered up the sheet and covered everything from the shoulders down. "Mark?"
"Feeling shy, suddenly?"
The edge of his voice sounded sharper than a brand-new razor. This wasn't the man she'd exchanged banter with a few hours ago, before amazing sex. This was a different man. A furious man.
A stranger. "What's wrong?"
Every line in his body tensed at her question. His jaw clenched. But he said nothing, did
n't move. Concern seeped through Nicki. What had happened? Not only did he look angry, but the anger seemed to be directed at her.
"Mark, are you all right?"
Again, he didn't answer, but his eyes ... they changed. He stared at her, his gaze like a sexual crowbar. Desire thundered in those hazel depths, so intent she wondered if he thought he might be able to read her mind--or turn her on--if he simply glared long and hard enough.
Nicki couldn't vouch for the reading her mind part, but the turning her on... oh, yeah. A zip of thrill zinged through her at Mark's ferocious gaze. A discreet glance down proved that incredible anatomy of his all revved up and ready to go.
Pushing away from the door, he stalked to the bed and tore the sheet from her hand, ignoring her gasp.
"Why hide when I've already seen your body?" he taunted. "And touched nearly every inch of it."
Nicki bit her lip, torn between concern and arousal. "Do you want to talk? It looks like something upset you."
"Why would you think that?"
His sarcastic tone told her something was definitely wrong. That, and his cold eyes. Before she could say more, he continued.
"You invited me here to fuck. So let's get to it." Mark pulled his shirt over his head, toed off his shoes, and doffed his jeans in less than fifteen seconds.
Nicki gaped at him, torn between her worry for him and the shiver of desire that danced up her spine at the sight of him, huge, hard body completely naked and aggressively coming after her.
"Mark, I--"
Not another sound made it out before he leaped on the bed, pulled her under him, and covered her lips with his.
As his tongue slid into her mouth, deep and possessive, arousal slammed her, knocking the breath from her body. He commanded her kiss, demanded a response. He got both. After two years without sex, and longer than that without any worth mentioning, Nicki was embarrassingly charged up for more of Mark. And already he knew her body well.
With one hand, he grabbed her hands and hoisted them up over her head, pinning them to the bed. Surprised at his move, Nicki writhed, testing his hold. It was solid, iron. No way was she getting up, unless she asked to be released. The hard glitter in Mark's gaze as he looked down at her with both challenge and authority told her that he knew she was utterly at his mercy.
Her breathing kicked up a notch. This was something she'd always wondered about, feeling helpless underneath a man who aroused her out of her mind. She'd never found a man strong enough to try to contain both her body and her will, much less succeed.
Until Mark.
In the back of her mind, Nicki knew that he was likely using sex to avoid talking to her about whatever had angered him. If she could just think beyond his desire-soaked mouth pressed against hers and his hand clamped around her wrists, she would confront him.
His other hand roamed her body in a fast, electric sweep, settling over her breast as if he had every right. He plucked at her pebbled nipple, pinched and rolled it between his fingers. Closing her eyes as need raged through her, Nicki arched and melted into his amazing touch.
"You like this." His voice was a deep rumble in her ear, vibrating inside her. "You like to be manhandled, don't you?"
She couldn't give up, give in, too easily. It was embarrassing. "Bite me."
"Eventually. But first I see something I want suck."
Maintaining his grip on her wrists, Mark bent and took her other breast in his mouth. Voracious and unrelenting, his mouth settled over her, working the nipple with gentle scrapes of his teeth and the pluck of his lips. He hadn't paid much attention to her breasts the first time, but he sure was making up for that now.
The double pressure-pleasure of his mouth at one nipple, hand at the other, was unraveling her composure. Her skin heated until she felt like a furnace on overdrive. When his teeth nipped at her again and he soothed the little sting with a long swipe of his tongue, Nicki moaned.
His free hand left her breast, and she whimpered in protest. Nicki doubted she'd ever made such a sound in her life, but the sudden deprivation of stimulation made her nipple ache.
As if atoning for his abandonment, he eased to her side and tracked a pair of fingers right through her wet slit, then plunged them deep inside her. Gasping, Nicki arched up to his touch, wild for the new sensation, and looked at him with unfocused eyes, feeling so vulnerable yet so alive.
His tight smile and heated hazel eyes told her he was enjoying pushing every one of her buttons.
He proved he could--quite easily--when he crooked his fingers and scraped them right over her most sensitive spot. Again and again, he nudged and provoked that bundle of nerves deep inside her. Pressure, pleasure, swelled and grew. God, he was about to push her over the edge into a black abyss so deep ... Nicki found herself short of breath, chest rising and falling with the effort to get more air.
"Do you want it?" he growled.
"Yes." She arched up to him, willing him to shut up and get on with it.
Gently nipping at her nipple with his teeth, Mark warned her to keep still. The sting only engorged the pleasure deeper inside her. Without conscious thought, she moaned and spread her legs wider.
Mark accepted her invitation. "How do you want it?"
He was going to make her admit it. Make her completely surrender. Dented pride aside, she loved it. "Take me. Hard. Now!"
"I'm going to hold you down while I do." "Yes!"
Quickly, he reached to the bedside table and grabbed another condom. Nicki watched as he tore the packet open and rolled the latex down his length in about three seconds, before she could think or move. Before the tingles could abate and sanity could return.
Jaw clenched, eyes glittering down at her with that swirl of anger and challenge, Mark pushed her legs wider with insistent hands, settled into the new space as if he belonged there, then grabbed her wrists and pinned her down again.
He slid inside her in one fierce thrust.
Her body stretched to accommodate him a lot more quickly, but he still filled her beyond full. The tip of him pressed against the mouth of her womb in a piercing pleasure that had her crying out and wishing she could dig what was left of her fingernails into his back. Instead, he held her still, eased back most of the way out.
Before plunging into her with a ferocious, heavy stroke.
Nicki had thought the pleasure couldn't get any more intense. She'd been wrong.
Already swollen with arousal and slightly sore from their first tango between the sheets, Nicki discovered her body was even more sensitive. She closed around the hard length of his insistent cock, as it drove into her again, a third time, a fourth, and then ...
"Ohmigod! Mark!"
He eased up, prolonging her agony, controlling it. "Does anyone else make you feel this good?"
Bucking her hips up to him, Nicki silently pleaded with him to fill her full and fast again. She soon learned Mark would not rush unless he want to.
"Anyone?" he barked, even as he tortured her with slow strokes that dragged the head of his cock over that one spot ... ramping up her pleasure but not giving her enough to fall over the edge.
"Mark," she breathed, pleaded. "Who else makes you feel this way?"
Another slow thrust, another slide of his erection just where it pushed her to the limits of her sanity.
"No one," she whispered, trying to catch a breath. "No one."
"Remember that."
Then he became a wild man, plunging into her with rapid-fire hips that sent her soaring high, then higher still, until she was holding her breath against the mounting pleasure.
Her heartbeat resounding in her ears, Nicki surrendered to the ecstasy. She convulsed around Mark's hard flesh, squeezing, pulsing--totally losing her mind as he continued to pound into her and took her to yet a higher peak. This one had her screaming incoherently.
As the pleasure slowly subsided, Nicki became aware that Mark's strokes had slowed as well. She opened her eyes to see a rivulet of sweat running from his
temple down his neck, to find his eyes raging with lust, anger, need, fear. Nothing in his expression made sense.
Since she couldn't free her hands from his grasp, she lifted her mouth to his and placed a gentle kiss over his lips. "Mark?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he quickly withdrew from her, flipped her over to her stomach and shoved a pair of pillows under her. Grabbing her hips, Mark positioned her exactly where he wanted her, then thrust deep inside her again.
It was like unleashing a man possessed.
The control he'd maintained to that point unwound. He laid his body over hers and nipped at her neck, hot breath making her shiver with welcome delight as he began to hammer into her. Nicki drowned in all the new sensations. His heat on her back, his wide cock stretching her channel, which felt narrower in this position, then, oh yeah, his fingers swirling over her swollen clit.
One hand held her hips in place, fingers digging into her as he pumped his way inside her, again finding just the right angle to hit every spot guaranteed to set her off. But the arousal climbed up over her head so fast, rushing her like a tidal wave until she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. The telltale bubble of aching need began expanding inside her, even as her vagina closed around him, gripping until he had to push his way inside with each thrust.
Deeper, faster, hotter, higher, Mark pushed her, his incessant strokes inside her unrelenting. She had no place to hide from the enormous swell of her own desire, ready to sweep her away like a strong undertow. Inside her, he engorged, pressing against her very walls until she was sure she couldn't stretch any more.
"Mark..." "Come for me," he urged in a gravelly voice in her ear. "Come!"
His raspy demand and that last relentless plunge inside her pushed her over the edge. Nicki exploded in a tangle of light and colors, of breaths and sweat and fire. As she did, Mark groaned in her ear, an urgent, hoarse sound that bordered on pain as he released.
A minute passed. Heartbeats slowed. Breathing regulated. Neither said a word.