Then Dix pushed her down so she lay spread open for him. He dotted the spicy flecks of color on her creamy skin, then bent to tease and lick each freckle.
Belle writhed, and he pressed a palm against her stomach, pinning her. He lapped the honey away, teasing her, tempting her. Dix seized the scissors from his cup holder. True, he could pull the panties down her legs, but he was in the mood for something more exotic.
“What are you doing?” She leaned up on her elbows, eyes wide.
“I said shush.” Dix cut into the fabric on either side of her legs, careful not to slice her skin.
“But—”
“Keep it up and I’ll gag you, Red.” Dix pulled the shredded panties off and held them up threateningly.
Belle laid back down.
“Good girl. Knew you’d see it my way.”
After she was bare, he sat down in a Queen’s Anne chair so he was level with her scrumptious little pussy. Dix hooked her legs over his shoulders and spread her wide for him so he could see Belle in all her naked glory. The fire raged in him now. He traced the lips of her sex. The hair was crisp, but the flesh beneath it was soft and supple, drenched.
Dix drew a line of honey on either side of her inner thigh. Belle squirmed, her legs restless. He licked the syrup away with long, deliberate laps.
After he’d finished, Dix spread the lips and pressed his mouth to her, kissing her pussy and relishing the buttery taste. Her clit was inflamed, a hard nub he tormented with his fingers then his teeth.
“Dix!”
“Need somethin’, Red?”
“Please….”
“Please, what?”
“I need you.” Once again, Belle balanced on her elbows, trembling and dazed.
“This what you want?”
After unhooking her legs, he unzipped and withdrew his cock. Dix fisted his erection, stroking it. His cock was engorged, purplish-red, and ready to burst. Fuck, he couldn’t remember being this thick and hard. Then again, no one had refused him in years.
“Yes.” Her gaze fell to his cock, her tongue rimming her lips.
Dix gritted his teeth. “Don’t have a condom down here so I won’t come in you, but I gotta put it in.”
She nodded.
He pushed into her, and she fell back again, arching beneath him. Belle was burning hot and slippery, taking every relentless inch of his big dick. And he gave her a good pounding too, putting his back and hips into it.
Dix angled his body and brushed against her clit with every thrust. Belle groaned, clutching the edge of the table for leverage and lifting up to meet him. Damn, but she was a sight, ready and willing, rosy-cheeked, and big breasts bouncing.
Speakin’ of those tits...
Dix knew exactly where he wanted to come, but ladies first. He prided himself on being a gentleman. When he pulled out, she mewled in protest, but when Dix thumbed her clit, she moaned instead. He circled it, applying just enough pressure, then worked the little knob like a master musician, playing it skillfully. Belle rocked against him, riding his hand, then she gasped.
“Dix!” Belle quivered, her stomach clenching.
“That’s it, ride it out, Red.” Dix stroked her through the orgasm until she lay with legs and arms splayed, gratified. Something about making a woman come made him feel potent, dominant.
Fuck, he couldn’t recall it ever being this good.
My turn.
“Let’s get you on the chair.”
Dix was tall, so it should put her at the right height for what he had in mind. After she sat, he tweaked each nipple until they perked up. He palmed her tits, jiggling them, loving how firm and full they were.
“Hold them for me.”
Belle clasped her breasts, and he pushed his cock between them. The reddish-purple flesh of his dick appeared much darker against the milky skin. He was already slick and shiny from being inside her, so he slid back and forth easily. Fuck, her skin felt soft.
Soon, it wasn’t enough. Dix cupped her tits himself and thrust between them. Her eyes were half-lidded, and her rosy mouth opened in a wide O. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he pulled away. Dix clasped one breast, lifting it for his use. Then, he took his cock in hand and pumped. Her nipple was turgid, standing up for him and he brushed the head of his dick against it, jerking until he spilled, spattering the nipple. His come coated her areola.
Fucking caveman shit, but he’d marked her as is own and damn if he didn’t want to do it again and again.
Afterward, she sprawled on the chair, a wrecked, beautiful mess.
Belle’s skin almost glowed. She looked content, replete. Dix didn’t see avarice or pure lust on her face.
No, there was a whisper of something more. Then she smiled at him, sweet and soft. Dix wanted to gather her up into his arms and keep her in his bed all night long. She’d feel so good against him.
What the hell? Dix fucked women, and that’s it. He couldn’t do more than sex and friendship.
Dix had to shut this down.
“Thanks for the dessert, darlin’. It hit the spot.” Dix tucked himself away and zipped up. “Now, if you don’t mind, I got some calls to make.” It was a lie—he’d finished for the day, but she didn’t know that.
Her lashes fluttered, and the dreamy, sensual look faded. As soon as it disappeared, he missed it.
“Oh, uh, sure.” She turned her face away and pulled on her dress with fast, jerky movements.
“I’ll give you a ring later in the week.” He felt like an asshole, but he couldn’t get her hopes up only to kill them later.
“Okay.” Then she was out the door.
Dix collapsed into his chair.
He was going to have to be very careful, or this fire could burn out of control.
***
Belle felt sticky and dirty, and it wasn’t from the honey and Dix’s semen.
She wrapped her arms around herself but couldn’t get warm. It was nearly ten, and the temperature had dropped, but she felt cold from the inside. Belle hopped in Blue and then took off, blasting the heat.
Earlier, she’d been out of her head, spurred on by lust and need. Now the fire had cooled, and she felt cheap, used. Was this how Carolina felt after one of her romps with Emmett?
Maybe Belle was her mother’s daughter.
Tears sprang up, and she brushed them away. The sex meant nothing—it’d been a transaction, part of her deal with Dix—even if it had felt like more initially. She shouldn’t be surprised. When she’d slept with other men, she’d never gotten cuddly afterward. It’d been fun, a thrill. Belle shouldn’t have expected more from this arrangement. But maybe she wanted more from Dix, which was a problem. Had she gone insane?
Belle pulled up to her apartment and got out. Suddenly, she felt a prickle on the back of her neck like someone was watching her. Maybe Dix had her followed her? She glanced around the parking lot, but it was empty.
Or maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.
Grabbing the keys, Belle dashed to the door, unlocked it, and hustled inside.
Belle locked the door and headed to the bathroom. She hit her knees in front of the toilet and dry-heaved bitter, yellow bile. After she recovered, Belle swished the acrid taste out her mouth with mouthwash and splashed water on her face.
She stripped off and got into the shower to warm herself, but she couldn’t shake the feeling someone outside was watching, waiting.
***
The next evening, Belle got a text message from an unknown local number.
Are you free for dinner?
Belle typed a response. Dix?
She was in no mood to see him after last night. Belle wanted to pull herself together before she encountered him again. She needed some distance, perspective.
No, this is Vick. Sorry. I have the number blocked. Wanna get some dinner at Poison Fruit? You and me?
Hmmm. She could get some dirt on Dix for a change. Belle had wanted to try the winery/bistro for months anyway. Might as well
take advantage of the opportunity.
Sure, I’ll meet you there. 7?
See you then. This time, when a local number appeared on her screen, Belle added Vick to her contacts.
Belle arrived at Poison Fruit right on time. The winery was on the end of town, on five acres that hugged the creek. As she pulled into the drive, she passed hundreds of fruit trees—apples, peaches, and pears—as well as strawberry and blackberry patches.
Vick pulled up beside Belle. She drove a Black Escalade with tinted windows, like Byron and Dix. Belle bet the Dixie Mafia had a fleet for employee use. She stepped out of the SUV wearing a pair of black and white striped leggings and a black sweater with a kitten face embroidered on the front. Vick had wrapped her hair into two tight buns on either side of her head—and she looked adorable.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but what’s someone like you doing mixed up with these people?” It’d been bothering her since she met Vick, and it just tumbled out of her mouth, apropos of nothing.
A long, uncomfortable moment of silence passed.
“Maybe I’m not as good as you think.” Her plucked brows rose.
Vick was right. As a new resident of the mafia’s dangerous world, Belle couldn’t judge by appearances anymore. For all she knew, hacker girl might be a high-tech criminal mastermind. Come to think of it, Dix and Vick might have more than a professional relationship. He didn’t strike her as the monogamous type.
“I see. And you and Dix are…?” She lifted her chin.
“Friends and colleagues, nothin’ more—though I don’t know why. Sometimes, he can be a real jerk face.”
Belle snickered. “Tell me about it.” Surely, Vick couldn’t be so terrible if she didn’t even swear?
Vick joined in and then smiled. Then tension between them ebbed away.
“Let’s get some dinner and wine. We’ll drink our cares away.” She led the way inside.
A rustic red barn had been converted into the bistro portion of Poison Fruit. It still had the high rafters and wood, but it’d been remodeled inside. In the center of the dining room, a brick well-like structure surrounded a large apple tree. The branches stretched up to the stained glass windows above, which depicted Eve and the apple, along with a slithering serpent. Twinkling Christmas lights lined the walls, and tea lights on the tables gave the room a warm glow.
“Tennessee Ross bought this place a couple years back,” Vick said as she sat down at a table along the wall.
Belle joined her. “Who?”
“Ten. He’s a colleague and a damn fine vintner. Between Beauregard’s moonshine and Ten’s wine, the outfit’s set.”
She bet the mobster’s intentions were nefarious. Ten probably wanted to wash money through the winery accounts. Although, Belle didn’t ask, for fear Vick would tell her.
Belle perused the wine menu. All the vineyard fruits were utilized in the wine, not just grapes—blueberries, strawberries, peaches, and apples too. The wines had lethal names—Toxin, Venom, and Nightshade, among others. It gave the name Poison Fruit a whole new sinister meaning.
“Will Ten be here tonight?” Belle glanced around, expecting to find the Mafioso lurking around a corner instead of their waiter.
“Nope. He’s, uh, on assignment.”
Mob lingo for murder? Strike that, she didn’t want to know.
Belle avoided the wine, choosing iced tea instead, along with a summery fruit salad and a cup of vegetable soup. Vick ordered a glass of Poison Ivy with a fruit and cheese plate.
She waited until their food arrived before asking questions.
“How long have you been working with Dix?”
“And here comes the information pump.” Vick toasted her with a wine glass. “Kudos for waitin’.”
“Sorry.” Belle ducked her head.
“Don’t be. I’m glad you brought it up. I wanted to give you a warnin’ and couldn’t do it with Dix sittin’ six feet away.”
A warning? She glanced up sharply.
“Don’t fall for him.”
Belle wondered if her conflicted feelings for the man were plain to see.
“Treat this as a bit of fun because that’s all it is. I didn’t work for him before his wife died, but from what I’ve heard, it changed him. And I’ve seen him in action with women. Dix can be cold.” Her face was grave.
Tell me about it.
“How did she die?” Belle envisioned some sort of Bluebeard deal with a dead wife—maybe in that room—the one Vick had told her never to enter.
Vick shook her head. “You gotta ask Dix about it, but trust me, there’s a big, gapin’ black hole where his heart used to be.”
How bad off was Dix if another mafia member thought he was heartless?
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
Vick paused to take a sip of wine. “You seem like good people. Don’t want you to get your heart broke.” She hesitated before speaking. “I know how painful it can be.”
Belle wondered if someone had broken Vick’s heart too.
“Well, don’t worry. I don’t plan on falling for him.”
Belle loved men, adored flirting and dating them, but she never surrendered her heart. Dix’s behavior had slapped her back to reality. She wouldn’t let her guard down again.
“Your head might have other plans, but the heart can betray you.” Vick took a long, deep drink of wine. Her chin quivered, and she offered Belle a tremulous smile.
“Are you in love with someone?”
“No.” Her features were smooth, utterly expressionless.
“I don’t need to be a counselor to see the pain.” She’d always been empathetic, and seeing anyone in need bothered her. Belle felt compelled to help.
“I’m not in love with anyone.” Vick bit into a cracker, ending the conversation.
“Veronica?”
A tall man in an expensive-looking suit stood beside their table. He had blue gray eyes and silver hair. Belle thought he was probably in his late fifties, but with a full head of hair and a lithe body, he was still attractive. The term silver fox came to mind.
“Simon, good to see you.” Vick’s hand shook so much, she nearly dropped her wine, and her face had gone ashen. Despite the kind words, she clearly wasn’t happy.
And why had the man called her Veronica?
“Yes, it’s good we ran into each other. You owe me a phone call.” He leaned down and brushed a quick kiss across her lips.
Somehow Belle doubted he’d simply “run into” Vick.
“And you are…?” Simon asked Belle, holding out his hand, when Vick made no move to introduce her.
“Belle Nunn.” She shook it.
“Colleague or customer?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.” What was Vick involved in?
“Neither, she’s a friend,” Vick answered.
“I see.” He tilted his head to the side, studying them with an uncomfortable intensity, before turning his attention back to Vick. “You’ll call me tonight.”
It hadn’t been a question.
Vick swallowed. “Of course.”
“Good, then I’ll let you get back to your dinner.” Simon pulled a phone from his pocket and tapped it. “Eleven o’clock—don’t make me wait.” Then he was gone.
“Who was that?” Belle asked as soon as the man was out of earshot.
“Nobody important, just a friend.” Vick pasted on a smile, but Belle could tell she was still rattled. Simon definitely wasn’t her friend.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” Vick drained the rest of her wine.
Belle wasn’t surprised. In the Dixie Mafia world, there were many secrets, and she wouldn’t be privy to them all.
Thank God.
After dinner, Belle took a long drive to clear her head. She topped off the gas tank at Lickety Split and lit out of town as fast as four wheels would take her.
Vick’s words bothered her. Even after he’d been a jerk, her body still cra
ved Dix on a fundamental level. And she was thinking about him way too much.
What if this was the beginning of an obsession? A path that’d lead her into ruin.
The highway was empty, and it was dark, so she drove a bit faster, trying to outrun her feelings. A flash of lightning in the distance caught her attention, and rain poured down. Water sloshed across her windshield, slung by the wiper blades, and thunder rattled the truck windows.
Abruptly, her truck made a clunking sound, and a plume of smoke billowed out from beneath the hood as it came to a standstill.
Oh, great.
“Come on. Don’t do this.”
Belle pulled over on the side of the road and threw it in park. She popped the hood with the dash button and zipped up her jacket. She vaulted out of the truck and found more acrid smoke beneath the hood but no flames.
It didn’t make much sense. Blue was ancient, but she’d followed the maintenance schedule.
She climbed up into the cab to keep warm and put her hazard lights on so she didn’t cause a wreck. Belle pulled out her phone. Her AAA membership had expired two months ago, and she hadn’t renewed it.
I’m not calling Dix.
Belle tried Vick, but the call went straight to voicemail.
“Dammit.” The only other person who came to mind was Byron Beauregard. Hadn’t he offered her friendship? Unfortunately, she didn’t have the number and had no one else in town to call. Note to self—get some friends.
With a sigh, she dialed Dix.
He answered on the first ring. “Well, hello there. Didn’t think I’d hear from you so soon. You ran out the other night.”
Bet you didn’t, jerk.
“This isn’t a social call. My truck broke down, and I’m about thirty miles outside of town on Highway 20.”
“Ain’t surprised—that thing’s on its last legs.” Belle heard a creaking sound and pictured him leaning back in his chair, placing his feet on the table in front of him. “So, you need somethin’ from me, Red?”
Belle swallowed. His voice was husky and low in her ear, and her body responded to the vocal caress—her skin goose-pimpled and her nipples turned into twin points.
Ugh. Right now, she was disgusted with herself.
Flesh and Blood (Dixie Mafia Series Book 1) Page 12