Ruthless

by Gillian Archer

  “Um…Don’t care. Just don’t stop.” I slumped back against the wall since my knees could no longer support me. With one hand buried in his thick mane of hair and the other on his back, I held on.

  “I think you and me are gonna get along fine.” He left a trail of soft kisses from my ear across my face to my lips, but he stopped short of a real kiss. Instead, he gave me another one of those nipping bites on my full lower lip. “Nothing fucking better in this world than having a gorgeous, eager woman in my hands.”

  Before I had a chance to process what he’d said, the room whirled around as he flipped me up in his arms and all but ran down the darkened hallway.

  He ducked into a shadow-filled bedroom. I didn’t have time to look around or orient myself because suddenly I was horizontal, the bed at my back and Zag looming over me.

  He growled. “You’re wearing too many fucking clothes.”

  I could only whimper in agreement. I didn’t want anything between us, either. I’d never felt this way with anyone before.

  After pulling my glittery black blouse over my head, he threw it over his shoulder. “Gorgeous. Fucking gorgeous.” He palmed my bra-covered breast before teasing my nipple with his thumb. I moaned and arched into his caress. The silky material magnified the deliciousness of his teasing touch.

  He ducked his head and rasped his teeth over the aching peak of my nipple.

  “Oh God,” I whimpered.

  “Nope. Not God, princess. Just Zag.”

  I had to laugh at his arrogance. But my giggle ended in a gasp when he gave my other nipple the same nipping flick. I pushed my fingers into his hair and tried to pull him closer.

  But he wasn’t having any of that.

  Rather than follow my urging hands, he pulled away and went to work on my skin-tight jeans. Although frustrated that I wasn’t getting my way, a secret thrill ran through me. I’d never been with such a masculine, take-control kind of man. It was hot.

  I pushed up my hips so he could pull my jeans down my legs. The sound of coins ricocheting filled the room as he threw my pants over his shoulder. But I didn’t care. All I cared about was the red-hot man towering over me with his intense eyes glinting in the moonlight.

  His rough palm slid across my tummy, then ran down the outside of my panties. His soft, masculine laughter echoed around us. “Someone’s a little bit excited.”

  He ran a finger over the center of my panties. I twisted into his hand as a frustrated mewl left me. I wanted more. I was sick of all his teasing. Just fuck me already!

  But still he ignored my not-so-subtle urging. His fingers continued his slow surface caresses, skimming my skin and underwear with those blunt, callused fingers. It was sexy and frustrating all at once.

  “Zag? Please,” I finally moaned.

  He chuckled again. “Impatient, princess? Has it been a while?”

  It actually had, but I wasn’t going to admit that. Now was not the time to confess my horrendous dating history. I was so aroused, and I really didn’t want to scare away such a deliciously willing man. Although I was beginning to question the willing part. He was moving so torturously slow.

  “It’s been a reasonable amount of time,” I muttered even as I arched into his hand.

  “Hmmm.” He traced the seam of my pussy through my panties. By now they were embarrassingly wet and his finger glided over the surface. “Why don’t I believe you?”

  Because I’m wet and horny as hell? I bit back my smart-ass reply and laced my fingers through his hair.

  For once he obliged me and leaned down at my urging. But he stopped short of touching his lips to mine and murmured, “Maybe I’m in the mood to make you beg.”

  Oh dear god. I closed my eyes with a groan.

  He chuckled as he changed direction and mouthed my still-covered nipple. The material of my bra muted the sensation and I could only moan and bend closer. I wanted to feel the tug of his mouth on my skin—the slide of his tongue—anything but this maddening tease. His long hair brushed the curve of my breast and I shivered. After a few more teasing passes, he pulled my bra cup down. The straps fell down my arms, limiting my mobility, and I could only grip his arms as he finally took my bare nipple in his mouth.

  He sucked and pulled, enveloping it, and I felt an answering pang from between my thighs. The stubble on his face rubbed harshly against my breast, making this much more sensual. After a few moments he let go and blew on the moistened tip, and I shuddered. Even as a wave of goose bumps erupted on my body, I arched up and pleaded with him.

  “More. Please? Oh God, don’t stop.”

  “Mmmmm,” he whispered. “I thought we agreed you’d call me Zag.” He moved to the other nipple and raked it with his teeth. His hot breath puffed on my breast as he spoke. “And if you think that’s begging, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  While he oh-so-deliciously tortured my nipples, one hand wandered south and slid into my panties. His fingers teased the seam of my pussy, dancing around but never quite touching my clit. Frustrated, I tried to guide his hand by angling my body, but his growl stopped me.

  “Do. Not. Move.”

  His scary, rumbly voice had me frozen in place.

  “We take this at my pace or not at all. Understand?”

  Unable to form a word, I nodded. As scary as he was acting, my sex fluttered. It was official. I was twisted. Fuck, he was so hot. I would never let another guy talk to me like that, but something about him—about how I felt when I was with him—made me more than willing. Hell, I was excited.

  See above. Twisted.

  “I didn’t hear you,” he growled.

  “Y-y-yes,” I stuttered. “I understand.”

  “I don’t know that I can believe you.” He roughly unhooked my bra and tore it from my body with a harsh jerk—the elastic straps rasping against my naked arms. Grabbing my wrists, he pinned them over my head with one of his hands. I wiggled in his grasp. Or tried to; I couldn’t move very far at all. I was trapped.

  A rush of fear swept over me. I didn’t know this guy from Adam. Had I made a mistake? Was he any better than my asshole of a date from earlier? A hiccupping breath left me. Whether it was from the memory of the parking lot or the rush of fear from Zag’s strength, I didn’t know. My brain was a jumble of thoughts and fear.

  “Sshhh, princess. Everything’s fine. If you want anything to stop, tell me, okay?” He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine in a sweet kiss. “But until then, don’t move a fucking muscle.”

  “Okay,” I whispered. I felt both comforted and nervous. And still so turned on.

  His mouth went back to teasing my now throbbing nipples as his right hand slid inside my panties. But this time he gently parted my folds and ran a finger softly over my clit. My body bucked at the contact—at least, as much as possible, since he still had ahold of my hands in his tight grip.

  He continued tormenting me, taking turns first flicking my nipple with his tongue, then my clit with his callused finger. After a few passes he sucked my nipple deep into his mouth while he teased my pussy with two thrusting fingers—almost but not quite penetrating the depths. Finally he returned to my clit, lightly circling it.

  He kept up a steady pace. Circle, circle, flick. Circle, circle, flick. By the fifth flick I could feel my orgasm approaching. All my muscles tensed up in preparation, and seconds later, I broke. My body shook as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me. Even as my orgasm quaked, he continued his teasing administrations.

  Unable to handle his touch anymore, I rolled away as far as his grip on my wrists would allow.

  Honestly, given his bossy nature, I was vaguely surprised he’d let me move that far. But I hardly had the brain power to reflect—I was too preoccupied by the aftershocks rocking me.

  I was hazily aware of him shifting on the bed. I heard a drawer open and close and a second later he was there again. He let go of my wrists, then roughly rolled me back and took my lips in a harsh, quick kiss. His mouth moved over m
ine. My now free hand burrowed into his hair, holding him; I wanted more of his kiss. More of him.

  Then I heard a rip and felt him tug away the scrap of material that had once been my panties.

  If it were possible, I got wetter. Something about the sound of the ripping material and his harsh kiss called out to the primal woman inside me.

  It was scary and exciting and so fucking sexy.

  Then he was inside me. His tongue in my mouth and his cock deep inside me. He was big and thick and everywhere. I felt a little cheated that I hadn’t had the opportunity to explore him with my mouth and hands. But there was always later.

  Aftershocks still shuddered through my body from my first orgasm, leaving me so sensitized that the smallest movement of his hips had me seeing stars.

  He broke our kiss with a sexy groan. “Nothing fucking better. God, you’re hot, princess. Red-hot and burning me up.”

  His thrusts built up speed and the sparks from my earlier orgasm melded into one hot, throbbing erogenous zone. It wouldn’t take much more to push me over the edge.

  Zag reached down and flicked my clit with his thumb.

  That was it. For the second time that night, I broke. My fingernails raked down his back while my pussy quaked around his thrusting cock.

  “Damn, princess.” He grunted. “I just—I can’t—”

  With a hoarse shout, he stopped thrusting and ground his pelvis into mine. His arms quivered next to my head. He dropped his forehead on mine and sighed heavily.

  Mint. And whiskey.

  Now I had another amazing memory to associate with his scent.

  “You and your insatiable pussy could’ve killed me.” He rolled over with a grunt. “But what a fucking great way to go.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult, so I stayed quiet. Besides, I wasn’t capable of speech at that moment. My body still shuddered every few seconds with aftershocks.

  After a minute he got up from the bed and disappeared into what I assumed was the adjoining bathroom, judging from the sound of running water. I’d never gotten the full tour, after all.

  I stared at the ceiling and marveled at the length of my last orgasm. With most men a small one was a stretch. Either they needed a map to find my clit or thought it was a magical button they only needed to push once. Very few I’d been with understood the mechanics of the female orgasm and didn’t care to learn. For once I wouldn’t have to go home and finish all by myself. Apparently I’d been dating the wrong kind of men.

  After a few more moments with just me and my thoughts, I wondered if he was lingering in the bathroom so that I’d get the hint and leave already. I really liked the postcoital cuddle, but then most men didn’t. And the whole “It’s time to go” convo was bound to be awkward. I’d rather leave with my happy orgasm glow than the pall of getting thrown out.

  I sat on the end of the bed and peered through the darkness for my bra or shirt. Where did he throw them? I knew better than to look for my panties since they now were just a scrap of fabric. Although maybe I wanted to keep them as a souvenir—my first walk on the wild side. I could have them framed or something.

  Spying my blouse hanging from the edge of his dresser, I grabbed it and was trying to figure out which end was up when I heard him.

  “Yeah. Fine. Whatever. I gotta go.” His cell beeped with the end of his call and he tossed the phone on the dresser. “What’s going on here?”

  “I-I-I, uh, I was just gonna—”

  “Go? Did you think we were done?”

  He wanted more—of me? Tonight? My knees went weak at the thought. I wasn’t sure I had the ability to go another round with him. “I, um, weren’t we? I mean, I came twice. You came. I’ve heard that this is usually the part where someone leaves, and since it’s your house…”

  “No fucking way. I’m not done with you by a long shot. Now get your shapely little ass back in bed.”

  Resisting the urge to salute him—barely—I clambered back into his bed. What girl would pass up another mind-blowing session with this man? Not me. I couldn’t hold back the huge smile that swept across my face.

  “I gotta make a few calls since I’m going to be tied up here with you.”

  I nodded and snuggled down into the pillow. Looked like I’d have to wait a bit for either my cuddle or our next round. I wasn’t sure which I was looking forward to more.

  Oh, who was I kidding? I couldn’t wait for more of that amazing sex.

  I fell asleep thinking naughty thoughts and waiting for him to come back.

  He woke me twice before morning. The first time he took me hard and fast. I was barely awake when the first orgasm slammed through me. I had two more before I collapsed into a boneless husk and passed out again.

  Then, in the early morning hours, he slowly and sweetly made love to me. He explored every inch of my body and I his. I finally got to trace the web of scars on his shoulders with my tongue and studied his amazing cock up close and personal with both my hands and mouth.

  The next morning I woke up alone in his bed.

  Chapter 3

  JUNE 7

  The ringing of my cell woke me. I opened my eyes and gazed blearily around the room as I tried to figure out what the hell was going on. Finding my phone two inches away from my nose, I snatched it up and punched at the screen. I just wanted that annoying sound to stop.

  “Whaaat?” I groaned.

  “Oh my god, Jess! Where are you? Are you all right? What the hell were you thinking?”

  “Nic?” I coughed, then cleared my froggy throat. “What the hell? It’s too early for this shit.”

  “Too early? Too early! You were on a date with a respectable lawyer and went home with a biker. Then you turned your freaking phone off! What’s wrong with you?”

  I had to hold my cell away from my head at that last part. Needless to say, Nic was pissed. But I needed a couple hours and a few cups of coffee before I was anything near coherent this early in the morning. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and tried to focus. What the heck was Nic ranting about?

  “Can we talk later? I’m not even awake yet.”

  “Oh my god, Jess. No! Where are you? I know you’re not home.”

  “Ugh, hold on a sec.” I pushed the hair off my forehead and sat up with a sigh. I could still hear Nic ranting away, but now that my cell was at my side her screeching wasn’t so loud. I rubbed my bleary eyes and stared at a completely unfamiliar room.

  Where the hell was I? The sparse furnishings and the overall messy room weren’t familiar. It was definitely a man’s room, but whose? My eyes landed on the Harley sticker on the side of a dresser, and it all came back to me. The restaurant…Captain Douchebag…Zag.

  Zag.

  Oh crap.

  Was he sitting out in his living room impatiently waiting for me to leave? We hadn’t talked about what this thing between us meant. Hell, we hadn’t said much at all outside of dirty talk. My cheeks heated with the memory of the things I’d said. This was so not the norm for me. Was it for Zag? Given the way he knew my body, I kinda thought so. He probably played with a different woman every night. Which meant this thing between us that had been so special to me probably wasn’t to him. I deflated at the thought. And now I was going have to do the walk of shame in front of him.

  Then I remembered—my car was still sitting in the restaurant’s parking lot. I was stranded. Double dammit.

  “Jess. Jessica!”

  I snapped to attention at Nic’s tiny voice still screeching from my cell. I grabbed it and held it up to my ear. “Yeah. I’m still here.”

  “She says she’s still there,” Nic muttered to herself. “Glad to know you weren’t killed and left in a Dumpster in the middle of the night. What the hell were you thinking?”

  That he was sexy as hell and even better in bed than I thought. That I foolishly thought he might be the one. I bit my sarcastic reply back. I still needed a ride after all. But some of my snarkiness still slipped through. “Yes, M
om. It was foolish. I wasn’t thinking. You’re right. Hey, can you come pick me up?”

  I slipped the last in there all sly-like, hoping she’d be distracted by my agreeable nature and automatically say yes before she’d processed what I said.

  “You need a ride? Where the hell is your car?”

  Guess not.

  I got up from the bed with a groan and began digging for my clothes. Where the heck did Zag toss them last night? Spying my jeans on top of a pile of clothes, I snagged them, then pulled them on.

  “My car should be sitting in the Vine’s parking lot. Can you pick me up and drive me over there?”

  “Oh my god, Jess. How could you be so stupid? Why didn’t you take your own car at the very least if you had to go home with a biker?”

  Rolling my eyes, I set my phone to speaker mode and pulled my bra off the top of the dresser. I tossed my cell onto the bed so I had both hands free as I wrangled my bra on. “Do you want the real answer or for me to say something that’ll make you happier?”

  “Make me happy.”

  “Um…” Finding my sparkly top on the floor halfway into the hall, I grabbed it and pulled it over my head. Make her happy? I hadn’t expected her to pick that option. Somehow I had the feeling nothing I could say right now would please her. “My car wouldn’t start and I needed a ride?”

  “Next time call Triple A.”

  So, not happy then. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Are you going to pick me up or do I need to call a cab?”

  “Dammit, Jess.”

  I waited impatiently for her answer. Right now I didn’t know if I wanted a ride home with her anyhow. I really wasn’t in the mood for another lecture and I could tell Nic wasn’t anywhere near done yet.

  “Fine, I’ll pick you up. Where are you?”

  Where was I? I looked around the unfamiliar room again like the answer would be emblazoned on his dresser. Shockingly, it wasn’t. Great, I guess I needed to venture out of the bedroom eventually.