The Escape_An Irish Mafia Romance

by Cassie Wild

  He’d shattered me, then put me back together and now everything felt different.

  I wanted more.

  A crazed thought came to me as I washed my hair. Suds drifted down my body as I rinsed off the shampoo. Don’t think about it, I ordered, reaching for the conditioner. But as I slicked it through my wet hair, I found I couldn’t think about anything else.

  If we hadn’t been interrupted, I would have lost my virginity to Brooks, right there on that desk.

  I should be horrified, but I wasn’t.

  Need, so long ignored, burned inside me and I made a decision.

  His room was right across from mine.

  I was going to go to him and see if he wouldn’t like to finish what we’d started.

  I was dressed in the only pajamas I’d brought with me.

  They weren’t sexy.

  Silky and comfortable, they were pretty, a soft pink that gave my pale skin some needed color, but there was nothing seductive about them. But I couldn’t do anything about it now. It was the pajamas or nothing—and I wasn’t that brave.

  I dried my hair carefully, leaving it to fall in soft waves down my back. I debated on whether or not I should put on some make-up, then decided that was pushing it too far.

  Who wore make-up to bed?

  Not that I was going to bed, but still.

  I hesitated as I approached the door and in a fit of nerves, I retreated back to my bed and sat there, my arms crossed over my middle.

  Stop being such a coward, I told myself.

  I wanted Brooks. I’d never felt anything like what he’d done to me before. Ever. The few men who had made me sit up and take notice hadn’t ever really noticed me.

  But Brooks had.

  He’d noticed me and then some.

  I clenched my thighs together against a rush of warmth as I thought about just how completely he had … noticed me.

  His voice had been rough and raw, nothing like the polished tones he’d used earlier when he’d introduced himself, or even when he teased me so easily about whether or not I was stalking him.

  I hadn’t been, of course, but it was an appealing thought, lingering on the edges as I focused on him.

  My breathing hitched and my face felt warm, while all my girl-parts went soft and ready. Girl-parts … it was a phrase that Isabel liked to use. He’s so hot, he makes my girl-parts melt, she’d say when we saw a good-looking guy.

  I’d never really understood the idea of somebody making my girl-parts melt until Brooks had put his hands on me. Now the problem was that all of me wanted to melt. I’d been so close last night, right up until we’d been interrupted.

  If I was smart, I’d view that interruption as an escape, but I couldn’t.

  Up until I realized what had happened, that we’d been caught, all I had been able to think about was Brooks. He was all I’d been able to feel, too.

  I wanted to feel like that again.

  Slowly, I got up, eying the door and the distance between me and Brooks seemed terrifyingly wide and incredibly small, all at once.

  All I had to do was open that door and walk across the hall.

  How would he react?

  Like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the air, I had to struggle to catch my breath, because I could only imagine how he would react.

  He’d kiss me again.

  I could all but feel his teeth nipping at my lower lip before he pushed inside my mouth.

  He would touch me again.

  My nipples tightened and stabbed against the cool, smooth silk of my pajamas.

  Would he maybe let me touch him?

  I’d wanted to do that earlier, had wanted to slide my hand between us and seek out the heavy length of his penis.

  Never had the urge to touch a man hit me so strongly and I realized I was panting.

  Mouth dry, I went over to the beverage service and got a bottle of water. I drained half of it in just a few long pulls. Screwing the cap back on, I moved back to my bed and put the bottle down on the nightstand.

  Swiping my hands down the sides of my pajama bottoms, I turned back to the door.

  Indecision weighed on me.

  Do you want him? I asked myself.

  There was only one truthful answer. I did want him. At the same time, he terrified me, but not because of anything he’d done. It was just … him. He was so big and he looked at me like he could see clear through me, discern every vulnerable, soft part of me, understand each gut-deep need.

  I wanted him.

  “Then go to him,” I whispered to myself.

  Go to him.

  Thirteen

  Brooks

  Talk about a night.

  I lay there in bed, staring with burning eyes at the ceiling overhead. I couldn’t sleep.

  I’d lost track of how long I’d been aching for sleep and it wasn’t happening.

  There was no question about the cause of my insomnia, either. I couldn’t stop thinking about Daria.

  I’d lain there thinking about her and what we’d been doing before the interruption. How long did I lay in the dark, fantasizing? Thirty minutes? An hour?

  I had no idea but the longer I lay there, thinking about her, the more aroused I became.

  Finally, I climbed from the bed, naked. Cool air kissed my body and teased my erection. It was almost torment, just feeling the soft glide of air over my body.

  I wouldn’t sleep while I was in this condition.

  My eyes had adjusted to the darkness and I could see the outline of the door ahead of me.

  I’d take a shower and indulge in some good, old-fashioned hand service.

  Maybe then I could relax enough to sleep.

  I stood in the shower, hot water beating down on me. Any hopes I’d had that the shower would relax me had already been smashed to bits.

  Even the feel of water rolling across my flesh was torment.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier.

  What had happened when I’d put my hands on Daria’s long, elegant body.

  I also couldn’t quite banish the memory of the way the slim, quiet blonde had all but run from me hours ago.

  Daria …

  Just thinking of her brought a new, fresh tension to my body and I ground my teeth against the heavy ache that settled in my balls.

  If Lucky and Marcos hadn’t interrupted us …

  My cock pulsed against my belly and I slid my hand down, closing it around my dick.

  I pictured the startled look on her face as I brought her to orgasm, her mouth forming that soft oh.

  I wanted to bring that look back to her face. That was just the top of the list though.

  Seeing her kneel in front of me, that long, sleek body trembling for me.

  Her mouth parting as I fisted my cock and braced it, telling her to suck on me.

  She’d whisper, Yes, sir before taking me inside and the mental image I pulled to mind was almost enough to make me lose it right there.

  I fought it back as I dragged my fist up, then down. The water made it easy and I could almost imagine it was her mouth. She’d stare up at me with those big, blue-gray eyes locked on me as she took her time learning the feel of me in her mouth.

  Then she’d take me deeper. I might have to show her how, urging her on until she relaxed and could take my cock all the way to the back of her throat, maybe even deeper.

  It took discipline to take a man’s cock deep, but I couldn’t think of anybody who might be better at discipline than a ballerina. She disciplined her body every day.

  She could take me deep, I knew it.

  I shuddered, falling into that daydream where she took me so deep, I could feel her throat closing around me. Her nails pricking the flesh of my thighs as she pulled away, then took me again and again.

  But I wouldn’t come in her mouth. Not the first time we were together.

  I wanted her tied beneath me, her hands clenching into tight fists as I pushed her thighs apart and discove
red her secrets. Did she shave? Did she wax? Did she just trim the curls that shielded her to keep herself neat?

  I didn’t care. I wanted to open her cunt and taste her, feel her body shake the way it had when I’d brought her to orgasm.

  After I’d licked and tasted her, I’d urge her on to her hands and knees. I could already imagine the taut feel of her ass under my hand as I spanked her. She’d cry out in startled surprise, even as she lifted her butt for another blow.

  I’d bring a pink flush to her pale skin before I stopped.

  She’d be begging by that point, her husky voice with that faint, sexy accent, goading me on as she begged me to make her come.

  When I finally slid inside her, she’d be on the verge of climax. I wouldn’t let her come right away though.

  I’d tease us both to make up for what we’d lost when we were interrupted.

  I pumped my fist harder, bracing my shoulders against the slick tile at my back, my feet spread wide for balance as I fucked my fist.

  In my mind, it wasn’t my fist, but her snug, sweet pussy. She’d been so tight. I’d have to be careful not to hurt her … at least not until she was begging me to. Just a little, that light edge between pain and pleasure that blurred until the sensations merged together.

  How far could I push her?

  I wanted to spank that perfect ass as I rode her, turn that long silken hair into a rope that I tugged on as I thrust inside her.

  I wanted to feel her ass flowering open as I took her there.

  My cock pulsed so hard now, it hurt.

  I clenched my teeth and pumped harder, faster.

  The orgasm, so tauntingly close earlier, now danced just out of my reach and I let my mind go down darker, dirtier paths.

  Daria whimpering as I worked my cock inside her ass, her spine undulating as she worked to accommodate me. She’d never taken it anally before. I knew without even having to think about it.

  She was so innocent, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she was a virgin.

  The idea of being the one to strip that innocence away was far too appealing.

  I’d always avoided the innocent girls. It was too easy for them to mistake sex for something else and that was the last thing I wanted. Romance had no place in my life.

  But I wanted Daria.

  Wanted her almost blindly in that moment.

  Panting hard, I thrust into my fist. In my mind, I was thrusting into her ass while she groaned and wiggled and fought to take all of me. Her hands bound at the base of her spine, fists opening and closing desperately.

  Tell me you want to come, I’d tell her.

  Her voice breaking, she’d tell me. Then she begged me to take her harder, faster.

  I came so hard, it felt like the top of my cock was going to blow off. My knees wobbled, my vision graying out ever so briefly.

  Semen jetted from me with every hard, vicious jerk of my cock and still I wasn’t empty.

  I swore and turned, bracing a hand on the wall as I jerked and pulled, working my aching cock.

  My mind spun away again, locking in that fantasy.

  But I didn’t want her kneeling before me now.

  I wanted her under me so I could watch her face and see what I did to her.

  The fantasy shifted and now she was lying flat on her back, her arms stretched overhead where I’d cuffed her to my bed. Slender, strong arms would tense and she’d shiver in anticipation as I took my place between her thighs.

  Her long, slim, pale body arched like a bow, her delicate, small breasts tipped with nipples flushed a rich, dark pink. They’d be hard for me, hard enough to scrape against my chest as I bent lower over her.

  I didn’t though.

  I wanted to watch her as I fed her my cock, sinking one slow inch after another inside her tight pussy.

  She’d be thrashing by the time I was done, and she’d go all tight and snug around me when I tried to withdraw. Each thrust would be like sinking my dick into pure bliss.

  She’d come, hard.

  After I watched her eyes go glassy, I’d finally let myself climax.

  This time, as I started to orgasm, it seemed to come from the very heart of me and I cried out roughly as I emptied myself.

  My legs, already shaky, threatened to give out and I locked my knees, sucking in deep breaths to replenish my oxygen supply.

  Water dripped into my eyes and I lowered my lashes, blinking the spray free.

  Spent now, I turned and half collapsed against the wall.

  The multiple showerheads continued to rain down on me and I lifted my face to the nearest one, letting it wash away the cobwebs trying to form.

  I’d sleep now, I thought.

  Sleep … and dream about how Daria would submit for me.

  Fourteen

  Daria

  I had to resist the urge to flee back to my room. Twice, I stopped in the middle of the hall, but I forced myself to keep on walking, right up until I stopped in front of the door.

  I reached out to knock.

  Another fit of nerves seized me and instead of knocking, I rested my fist again the door.

  It moved just a fraction.

  The door wasn’t shut.

  Maybe it was a sign.

  I eased the door open and peered inside.

  I couldn’t make out much. The lights were dim, just a little bit of moonlight coming in for illumination.

  It was enough to make out the lump in the middle of the bed.

  Brooks.

  He was asleep. Maybe it would be easier to do this if I just slid in there next to him.

  The lights were off. I wouldn’t have to see his face. I could just … get to it.

  The more I thought about it, the better the idea sounded. Before I could lose my nerve, I slid inside the room and eased the door closed behind me. I held my breath as I stood by the door, wondering if he’d heard me.

  There was no sign he had, though.

  He lay in the bed, not stirring and I blew out a quiet breath.

  Get to it …

  I gulped in a desperate breath of air, feeling light-headed. It had nothing to do with the amount of booze I’d consumed earlier, either.

  It was pure nerves.

  I’d dealt with nerves before—I did it all the time when I was performing. It had been a while since I had performed but I hadn’t forgotten the tricks I used to get past the fear.

  I took a step forward, then another and kept on going. That’s how you do it. You just battle through.

  I could do this.

  I’d already done the hard part—I’d gotten inside his room.

  I slid between the sheets, feeling the big bed shift suddenly under me.

  He still hadn’t moved.

  Rolling onto my side, I whispered his name. “Brooks.”

  There was a faint shift, followed by a sigh.

  My belly was tight, all but seized up with fear.

  Then he spoke—only it wasn’t his voice I heard. It wasn’t a him at all.

  A woman’s low, husky voice spoke again. I had no idea what she’d said.

  Brooks had a woman in his bed.

  He wasn’t in the bed, but did that matter?

  Just a few hours ago, he’d had his hands all over me and now he had some other woman in his bed.

  A hand brushed mine.

  “Don’t,” I said, panic grabbing me by the throat. This had been a mistake, such a mistake. I sat up and slid from the bed, my legs wobbling under me.

  I turned around at the sound of the bedclothes rustling and watched as an undeniably female form sat up.

  “Are you here to play with us?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep. “I didn’t think he was into that, but hey, I’m game.”

  I caught a flash of a smile before she added, “I like girls, too.”

  I backed away.

  In the dim light, I could see her reaching out, but she must have noticed I wasn’t at all interested in returning to that bed. “Fine,” she sai
d, voice sulky. “Be that way.”

  As she spoke, she shifted and the moonlight splashed across her face, highlighting features with a silvered sort of light.

  Memory slammed into me.

  The memory was vague, blurred at the edges, thank to the alcohol I’d had racing through my system. But it wasn’t vague enough, wasn’t blurry enough, because I knew who I was looking at.

  It was the woman Brooks had been kissing earlier.

  No, she kissed him, I corrected myself. Immediately after, I felt foolish, because what did it matter if he had kissed her or if she had kissed him? She was in his bed. That was what mattered.

  I felt so stupid.

  Stricken to the core with humiliation, I turned and rushed out the door.

  Behind me, I heard the woman speak again, but I didn’t slow, didn’t pay attention.

  I didn’t want to know what she was saying.

  What I wanted, more than anything, was to forget the past few minutes had happened.

  I hurried into my room and closed the door. I didn’t slam it, although the urge was there. No, I eased it closed and pressed my back to it.

  Had she seen me?

  Had she recognized me?

  But no, how could she?

  She hadn’t seen me last night and I was almost positive I hadn’t noticed her at the wedding itself.

  I was … safe. Or safe enough.

  Brooks hadn’t seen me sneak into his room, which was one small thing to be thankful for. I had no idea where he was, but the important thing—he hadn’t seen me.

  I locked the door behind me and hit the lights, dimming the room. Retreating to the bed, I crawled under the fluffy blanket, squeezing my eyes tightly closed.

  If I could make things happen through will alone, the past few minutes would be wiped from existence, or at least from my memory. There was no such luck, though.

  Since I couldn’t undo the big mistake I’d made, what I wanted next was to sleep.

  It took some effort, but bit by bit, I controlled my breathing, then focused on my heart.

  Meditation was something I sucked at, but I’d kept at it, knowing the stress reliever would come in handy in my life.