Silver-Tongued Devil (Portland Devils Book 1)

by Rosalind James

  Blake swore under his breath, and Dakota said, “Yeah. It was bad, and you see why I moved to Portland. But it was half a lifetime ago, and I’m not that scared girl anymore. And anyway, I still have Evan. He’s still right here, ready to do it all again. Ready to be my protector. The trick is convincing him he doesn’t have to be. As you saw.”

  “Evan. Yeah,” Blake said.

  “He’s a good friend. A good friend to Riley, and a good friend to me. But you know—here’s the takeaway from the whole thing. You know what Riley told me, when he got the story out of me?”

  “No,” Blake said. “Tell me.”

  “We were sitting on the edge of my bed, Monday night, after he made me tell him what happened. We were both kind of a mess. My hands, my knees, my feet, even my face from crying. I was hurt inside, too. Bruised. That was the worst. Every time I peed, it hurt so much, and I remembered why and felt dirty all over again. And Riley—he had ice on his knuckles.”

  “His knuckles? Not his face?”

  “No. Riley was tough, and Steve went down easy. Both of them did. And that night, Riley sat with me and made me tell him, and then he told me, ‘You think you lost. You didn’t lose. It wouldn’t have mattered what they did. You’re tougher than either of those assholes. The winner’s the one who gets up the most times, and we’ll always get up. We’re always going to be the last two standing. That means we’ll always win.”

  Blake exhaled. “Smart guy.”

  Dakota took a final bite of salmon. She’d thought telling him would be awful. It wasn’t awful. The story was out there now—her story—and that was better. Riley had been right. She wasn’t a victim. She was a survivor. “He was smart. He was the best brother. He’s the only part of that night that can still make me cry to think about. Otherwise? He was right. I got up. Steve Sawyer is a pathetic piece of human garbage who’s going to get what’s coming to him someday, because he’s stuck being his miserable self for the rest of his life. And Ingrid’s stuck with him. Rowan’s living somewhere else. I don’t know and I don’t care, but I’m betting his life isn’t turning out great either. And Riley died a hero. His life might have been too short, but he’ll be remembered forever by everybody who knew him. And me? I got up. Every time. I’ll always get up. That means I win.”

  Blake sat there and tried to force the adrenaline back. When he’d managed it, he said, “Two things. That’s what I’ve got going on. They’re kind of fighting it out right now.”

  “What two things?” Dakota asked. She was stirred up, but she was more under control than he was. That was the crazy part of it.

  “I know I need to tell you how beautiful you are, and how brave you were to come back to this town and to face what you did tonight, to hold your head that high. I want to hold you and say all that, and try to make it better. You can call that my good side. Unfortunately, all my regrettable side wants to do is drive this boat back into town, hunt that bastard down, and kick his ass.”

  She managed a smile. “I may have mentioned that Riley already did that, and that if you want to do it again, you’ll have to line up behind Evan.”

  “Now, see, darlin’,” he said with a sigh, “that’s a problem. I’m not good at lining up behind anybody. Afraid I’m going to have to take that first spot.”

  “Mm. But then…” She laughed, although it was still a little shaky. “Who’s going to hold me and make it better? I could really use that right now. I never told anybody all of that. Nobody but Riley. Evan doesn’t even know it all, I don’t think. I never talked about it with him, and I’ll bet Riley didn’t either. I was ashamed for so long.”

  She turned that sculpted face to him, and it was like he was seeing her for the first time. His hand went to her cheek as if it had been pulled there, because it had. He stroked her cheek, and this time, she leaned her face into his palm. And still, she looked into his eyes. And then she raised her own hand to him, ran her fingers over his jaw, and said, her voice so soft, “You shaved for me tonight.”

  “Yeah. I did.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?’

  Their hands were still on each other, and the moment stretched out until she said, “For making my night so special.”

  “Aw, baby,” he said helplessly. “You rip my heart out.”

  “You know what the worst part is?” Her voice was barely a murmur, but he heard her. That was how close they were.

  “No, what?”

  “That now you won’t kiss me.”

  “I’ll kiss you.” He wasn’t going to be able to stop himself. Except that was the whole point. “Here’s the deal,” he said, while his thumb stroked over that carved cheekbone and he watched her eyes soften. “Anytime you want me to pull up the anchor and take you home, you tell me so. Anytime. You tell me, and I’ll do it. That’s a promise.”

  “Thank you.” She leaned in, pulled his head down, and brushed her lips over his. Then she was kissing his neck, under his ear, and murmuring against his skin, “Message received. Could you go on and let your regrettable side loose now, though? Because that’s what I dressed up for. Something else, too. Here’s a secret just for you. You shaved, but I waxed.”

  Talk about a change of focus.

  And then she bit him. Yes, she did. She took a nip out of his neck that made him jump, then kissed him there some more, her lips stirring that regrettable side into action. No hope at all.

  His hand tightened on her cheek. “You know what? I think we’d better take our wine on over to the couch.”

  “Mm. What a good idea.” She was still kissing his neck, and if he didn’t stand up now, he wasn’t going to be able to.

  “Come on, wild thing.” He collected the bottle in one hand and the glasses in another and slid on out of there. A couple of steps, and he set them down on the coffee table, then turned around and took her hand as she was getting to her feet. He took her over to the light switch, turned the dimmers on down, hit another button or two over there, and got some music going. That was better. That was good.

  “We’re not going to do it in the dark, huh?” she asked, still going for that badass. Some tease in her voice now, her hair falling over one eye, her body swaying to the soft pump of the music.

  “Oh, no. No way. I’ve waited all this time to look at you again. I’m not missing my chance. In fact…” He put a hand on her shoulder and urged her gently around, then pushed her hair over one shoulder.

  He had to sigh. Oh, that was nice. Her halter top was tied with a bow, and the back of the dress was cut low beneath that. Shoulder blades like angel wings, a slim, toned back, and all that smooth skin. He put a hand on one tie of that yellow bow and pulled. Unwrapping his Christmas present. She was sighing herself, melting back into him, so he found the zipper and slowly lowered it all the way down. Past the curve of her waist, down to the wonderful swell of her ass.

  The two sides of the dress parted, and there was nothing underneath it but Dakota and two thin strips of lacy black thong. No bra, just all that wonderful body. He shoved the dress down, and when it hit the floor… oh, man. He had to get both hands on those firm, round cheeks, and then he had to run a hand down the center of that thong. And when he did, she shuddered.

  He could have stood there and felt her for an hour, but on the other hand… there she was, reflected in the darkness of the window opposite him. Her eyes half-closed, her head thrown back, her high breasts bare, and that flat belly. Only that last secret bit of her hidden from his view, covered with a tiny triangle of black lace.

  So much to do. So much to touch, and to kiss, and she wasn’t telling him to take her home. She was going to be his, all night long.

  He told her, “Step out of the dress, baby,” watched her do it, then put his hands on her again. One of them on her hip, pulling her back against him, and the other one stroking slowly down her arm, all the way from shoulder to wrist, then up her body. Palming her belly, sending a finger stroking over that tiny silver barbell in her navel.
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br />   “Prettiest thing I ever saw,” he said in her ear. “When we were at that restaurant and you walked by me? I thought I was going to go up in a puff of smoke just looking at you.”

  “You… noticed?” Her voice was breathy, and she was watching him in the window. Watching herself, and as turned on by it as he was, if that were possible.

  “Oh, yeah.” He stroked over her belly some more. Her ribs. He had her ass cradled in his thighs, and he was aching.

  “Blake,” she said when he slowed down, his palm over her middle, his thumb drifting in the valley between her breasts. “Please. Keep going.”

  “Mm. I’m going to do that, don’t worry. I’m just enjoying looking at you so much.” He watched in the window as his hand moved up, his palm settling over the firm curve of her breast. She sighed, pushed back into him, and whispered, “Yes. Please,” and he wondered if he was going to be able to make this last.

  “I think I need to lay you down,” he said. “I need to have some room to kiss you and love you right. But we’re going to leave this thong on for a while, because that’s just too pretty.”

  “You know,” she said breathlessly, her eyes nearly closed now as his fingers worked her breast, swirling and plucking at that firm little brown nipple, “you talk a lot.”

  He was so startled, he laughed out loud. “Yeah. It’s been mentioned. And you know what—I just changed my mind.” He had both hands cupping her breasts now, was running his thumbs over the tips, and she was absolutely squirming. His mouth needed to be there. He needed to make her squirm some more, and he needed to do it for a long, long time.

  “Wh-what? No. Don’t change—” He gave her a gentle pinch, and she gasped. “Don’t change your mind.”

  “Need a bed,” he whispered in her ear. That chain was right there again, and he had to suck it into his mouth and bite her there. And when she moaned, he had to bite some more, didn’t he? It was necessary.

  But while he did it, he was walking her ahead of him through the galley and into his cabin. He spun her around, her thighs hit the mattress, and down she went. Right onto her back.

  He switched on the lamp, and there she was, the gold and black of her laid out on his white comforter like his very best present. He was over her, levering himself on an elbow, and she was pulling at his T-shirt.

  “No fair,” she said. “I need you naked.”

  He got it up over his head, and she was rising up, helping him pull it off, her hands greedy on his chest, down his sides, like she needed to touch him, too.

  “Come on,” she said. “Please. Come on.”

  He’d get to his pants later, he decided, because he needed to kiss her. Needed to wrap his hands in her hair, hold her head, and give that full, soft mouth all the loving it deserved. Her mouth opened under his, and his tongue was inside, tasting her, and when she joined the party… Oh, hell, yeah. That was good. The desire was licking down inside him, all jabs and silver streaks, and he was so hard, he ached. She was making those noises again, too, because she was feeling the same thing. She had her hand around his head, her fingers digging into his hair, and he could feel the little shudders in her, the electricity of his kiss, as if her body were his own.

  He needed her to be grabbing him harder, though. He needed to get her noisy. He needed to drive her crazy.

  He was at her neck, sucking at her, biting her, moving over her, learning what she liked, and what made her crazy. The spicy scent of her perfume was in his head, her silken skin under his hand, and his palm was on her breast again. No choice. He had to. Her hips were moving already, and he was half gone.

  And when his mouth moved over her shoulder and settled on her breast… her head went back, just like that. Her mouth opened, her back arched, and she was making some “ah… ah… ah” noises that were going to kill him. He used his tongue and his lips and his teeth on her, and he found out she loved to be bitten there, too. Gently. That was very good news, so he did it some more.

  He didn’t want to leave, and he had to leave. His hand was stroking up her thigh, her legs were parting, and the silk of her in those secret spaces at the tops of her thighs… he had to kiss that. He had to.

  A detour for that barbell, licking into her navel, and then he was taking the two sides of that black thong in each hand and dragging it down her body, exposing her, watching her thighs part for him.

  That was pretty as hell. That was Christmas and his birthday and the Fourth of July. She lay there across his bed, her arms flung over her head, her dark hair around her, breathing hard, and he felt a hundred feet tall. He stood up and got rid of the rest of his clothes in one big hurry, barely remembering to grab the condom out of his pocket and toss it on the bed.

  She opened her eyes, looked at him, gave him a slow, languorous smile with that pretty mouth, and sighed. “Blake.”

  “Yeah, baby.” He wanted to say something else, but his words were gone.

  “You’re so beautiful,” she said. “And you’re really, really good at this.”

  He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “I get better. Just wait.”

  “Mm.” She was on an elbow for him, reaching for him, stroking the length of him, and—damn. If she kept doing that, he wasn’t going to make it. “Could you please hurry up, though?”

  Now he was really laughing. “You’re going to make me lose all my mojo. And, no, I can’t hurry up. I’m going to go slow.”

  “Oh.” She sighed. “Am I going to like it?”

  “Oh, yeah. You’re going to love it.”

  Everything in Dakota’s body was tingling. Every single cell in her wanted him to get there, wanted this to get going.

  She’d never been a patient person. Now, she was about to scream. Because he didn’t start up where he’d left off, where she needed him to be. He came down over her and kissed her again, long and slow and deep, and it felt so good, but she needed more. She shifted under him, grabbed his wonderfully muscular butt, and tried to move him over her, and he… stopped kissing her.

  “Dakota,” he said sternly, his hand wrapped in her hair, “you’re being a little bit forceful here, darlin’. I think I’m going to have to insist on a little more cooperation.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Did I ask for a quarterback?”

  “Well, now, baby, I’d say you just about did. And I tell you what.” He kissed his way around to her neck and sank his teeth into her skin until she moaned, then murmured in her ear, “How about this? You grab onto that headboard and hold on for me.”

  A surge of heat like molten liquid. “What?”

  “You heard me. Go on and do it.”

  Slowly, she reached overhead, her hands closing over the top of the padded leather headboard.

  Blake sighed. “Now, that’s better. You hold on, darlin’. Because I’m going to love you.”

  And then he did. She might not be a patient woman, but Blake was a very, very patient man. He moved down her body, kissing his way, and finally, he settled in.

  Except he didn’t. He teased her, and he tormented her. He sped up, and he slowed down. He got her hips pumping, her body rocking, and then he shifted his focus. Again and again, until she was panting. Until she was begging.

  “Blake,” she moaned. “Please. Please. Let me…”

  “Almost,” he said. “Not quite yet.” He was shoving something under her hips. A pillow, and that was good. That was better. His fingers were inside her, beginning to press, and she was rocking against them. Then he took them out, and she cried out in protest again. His hands were on the backs of her thighs, shoving them up high, all the way until her knees hit the bed.

  That was when he set his mouth to her for real, and shoved her straight up the mountain and over the edge. Her hands were gripping the edge of the headboard, his hands were hard on the backs of her thighs, her legs were caught, and she was wailing. Screaming. And he didn’t stop. He kept on, and she was going over again, harder this time. Again and again, until she was shaking. Until all she could
do was moan.

  When he let go of her legs at last, they were trembling so badly, she almost couldn’t put them down. She let go of the headboard, and instantly, his hands were over hers, putting them back in place.

  “No,” he said, not sounding steady at all. “Don’t. Hang on. Please. Hang on for me.”

  He was grabbing the packet, putting the condom on. And she was watching him. There was no way she couldn’t.

  Oh, my God. He was big. His hands and feet hadn’t lied one bit.

  Her breath was coming in panting gasps, her hands shaking on the headboard. And when his hands went back to her thighs and he shoved her legs up again… she let him do it.

  He entered her in one hard thrust, and she cried out at the sudden stretch, the shock of it. He stopped, holding himself rigid over her. “Hurts?”

  “No. Don’t stop. Please, Blake.” If he teased again, she couldn’t stand it. “Please. Go.”

  A hard thrust, a slow withdrawal. His hands holding her legs, his face so intent over her, his eyes glowing golden. Finding the same spot he’d found with his fingers, the place she hadn’t realized you could really touch. Winding her up higher, until she was making noise again, until his harsh breaths filled her ears. Higher and higher, and not quite there, and she needed more. She needed… she needed…

  He stopped. He let her legs go and pulled out of her, and she opened her eyes in dismay. That was all? She’d been so close.

  “Turn over,” he said. “Hands and knees. Oh, God, Dakota. Turn over.”

  The dark fire leaped inside her, and she did it. She turned over, and he entered her again, and now, there was nothing slow about it. Hard and fast, taking her over, and his hand was on her, stroking.