Ruthless (Playboys in Love)

by Gina L. Maxwell

  The thought of doing that with Addison is putting me even more on edge because I know I won’t ever get the opportunity to screw her missionary-style, much less my style. She’s Jane’s best friend, which means as far as I’m concerned, she might as well be a nun. Too bad she’s not dressed like one. It’d make things a hell of a lot easier on me. Instead she has on a dress that only covers her from ass to nipples. I’d had to go dance just to keep my gaze from zeroing in on her tits like a goddamned homing device.

  I zip up and wash my hands. My reflection in the water-spotted mirror is a complete departure from what stares back at me 95 percent of the time. Usually, I’m clean-shaven with my hair combed down. I don’t wear earrings, I change out the silver ball in my tongue for a flatter, flesh-colored one, and I sure as hell don’t edge my eyelids with black liner. My expensive, tailored suits are the finishing touch in my transformation, hiding the colorful tattoos covering most of my upper body. It might sound ridiculous, but I could pull off some James Bond kind of escape shit if I went into a room looking like my attorney-self and came back out as my casual-self. I won’t use the words fake and real, because they’re both the real me. I’m just two very different sides of the same coin.

  Finished at the sink, I dry my hands and mentally prepare myself to go back out there and avoid Addison. Another hour and I can take off without causing any suspicion with Chance. I should spend this time finding someone I can take home. Maybe Austin or Liam would be interested in coming along for the ride.

  I pull the door open and step into the semi-crowded hallway. The first thing my eyes land on is Addison—that purple dress straining to contain her ample chest, those over-the-knee boots that conjure images of her wearing them and nothing else, and her long, blond hair ripe for pulling—walking toward the rear exit. And she’s leading a man behind her.

  As she passes me, she gives her hair a light toss and winks at me, then focuses on the smug douche who’s following her like a puppy. Pathetic. He’s no match for her; she’ll eat him alive and spit out the bones.

  Not that I give a shit. She’s a big girl and can do whatever or whomever she wants. But as I watch her duck out the steel door into the back alley, my fists clench in irritation. What the hell is she doing? It’s one thing to mess around with someone, but a total stranger in the dark alley of a club? If she screams, no one will hear her. No one will come to her rescue.

  Like no one came to Rhona’s.

  My older sister was sexually assaulted at a party in college. She’d accepted a drink she didn’t get herself and woke up the next morning half-naked with no memory of what happened. Tests had proved that she’d been physically violated, but no one came forward with any information. Roofied and raped, her entire world had been blown apart in the blink of an eye. Now every time I take an alleged rapist to court, I imagine it’s the fucking coward who drugged my sister.

  I hate that I wasn’t there to look out for Rhona, to protect her, but I can do something about this. I have no business interfering in Addison’s affairs, and the odds of anything bad happening are slim. But I can’t let this go.

  Addison is being careless with her safety. And as I stalk to the back exit, I tell myself that her well being is the only reason I’m about to ruin her fun with a much lesser man than me.

  Chapter Three

  Addison

  As I step into the alley, I’m assaulted by the smell of wet pavement from an earlier rainstorm that had blown out just as fast as it’d blown in. Typical Chicago. If you don’t like the weather, stick around; it’ll change in another five minutes.

  Only one of the security lamps above the door is working, bathing the immediate area in a pool of dim light thanks to the dirt and grime caked on the bulb. I turn to the left, away from where the alley opens to the cross street, and head for the place where light gives way to the shadows.

  “Shit, babe, where’s the fire?” Tim—Tom? Todd? I don’t remember—says behind me.

  “Guess I’m just anxious.” Truth, but not about anything that has to do with him.

  He laughs. “It’s not like you can start the party without me.”

  That’s what you think, numbnuts. Tim-Tom-Todd has a severely inflated, and highly misinformed, ego if he thinks I need him to start any sort of party. I’ve become an expert on hosting the single-guest (moi) soiree, and while I can still bring the house down all by myself, it’s always more fun with company.

  Just not his company. Triple-T’s eyes zero in on my ample rack like he just found the Promised Land, and he crowds me against the wall when I put my back to it, as though he’s afraid I’ll bolt. My guess is he’s had it happen before. He’s not unattractive—sandy blond hair, hazel eyes, and a preppy “perpetual frat boy” appearance—but he gives off a pushy vibe that makes me think he’s probably had experience getting kneed in the nuts.

  No matter. I can take care of myself just fine, and he’s merely bait to get what I’m really after. If the plan fails, I’ll leave him behind—balls intact or not; depends on him—and try a more direct approach.

  Frat Boy lowers his head, but I turn my face to avoid locking lips with him. It’s at that moment that the back door we used moments before shoves open and Roman steps outside. He immediately homes in on us, his gaze grabbing mine, and I’m temporarily paralyzed by my body’s reaction to him.

  Heat washes through me and gathers deep in my center. My lips tingle as though begging to be ravaged by his mouth, for surely that’s what it would be like. The strength and commanding nature of his beauty are intimidating and inviting all at the same time. His snug-fitting, all-black attire of motorcycle boots, jeans, and wife-beater tank make the colorful tattoos covering his arms and shoulders practically glow in comparison.

  But for as plain as his clothes are, he makes up for it in shiny accessories. Diamond earrings, a silver necklace, and a matching wallet chain hanging in a low arc on his right leg all wink in the light with each breath he draws.

  Everything about this man screams don’t fuck with me, and yet that’s all I can think about—fucking with, above, under, around—I don’t care as long as he’s involved. As crazy as it sounds, I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want the man called Ruthless.

  “Hey, man, do you mind?” Triple-T says. “This isn’t a peep show.”

  Roman doesn’t even spare him a glance. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  I arch a brow at him. “I’d think it would be obvious. But if you must know, I’m planning on working out a little tension with Tim here.”

  “Ben,” Tim says with a tinge of annoyance.

  “Right,” I say, still staring at Roman. “That’s what I meant.”

  Like a dark angel, Roman stalks forward until he’s close enough for me to catch his scent. I don’t know if it’s his soap or cologne or a combination, but it’s smooth and intoxicating and makes me want to lick his skin to find out if he tastes just as good as he smells.

  “You want to work out your tension, then you go back inside and work it out on the dance floor like everyone else.”

  “Hey, asshole—”

  That’s all Tim-Ben gets out when Roman finally nails him with an icy glare and steals whatever else he planned to tack onto that comment. Roman’s voice is low, his words clipped. “Get lost before I make you choke on your own teeth.”

  Hazel eyes widen in shock—I have to admit, as far as threats go, it does conjure a graphic and unpleasant image—before he recovers with a huff of indifference and tosses a derisive glance in my direction. “Whatever,” Tim-Ben says, taking a step back. “The slut’s all yours, big man.”

  Oh, he’s going to regret that.

  Chapter Four

  Roman

  Flashes of red streak through my vision, and every muscle in my body grips my bones. From the moment I stepped outside and saw he had Addison up against the wall, I wanted to hand this guy his ass, tear him limb from limb, and now he’s given me the perfect excuse to do just that.
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  But before I so much as cock my fist back, Addison pushes off the brick wall and strikes first, grabbing the dude’s nuts and giving them a twist hard enough to make me inwardly cringe. He makes a strangled sound as the air rushes out of his lungs.

  “How’d I know that I’d end up wanting to twist your balls off, Tim?” She cants her head and gives him a devilish smile with that lush mouth of hers as his face turns a bright shade of purple. “Just because my friend here is cock-blocking you, that’s no reason to start name-calling like a five-year-old whose toy was stolen. Right?”

  She squeezes harder and he gasps, violently nodding like a dashboard bobblehead in an off-road vehicle. Seemingly satisfied, she releases her prey, and within seconds he’s back in the club, probably headed straight to the bar for a stiff drink and a towel of ice for his crotch.

  Addison takes a calming breath and rakes a hand through her hair, pulling it back and over to the side, away from her face. The lighting out here sucks, but I can still see the flush in her cheeks and across her upper chest. Though she tried to play it off, she’d gotten good and pissed, and now she’s doing her level best to compose herself. I’m not sure what turns me on more, watching her manhandle a douche who disrespected her, or seeing how her body reacts when she gets all worked up, knowing it would flush like that if I had her in my bed.

  If I wasn’t hard before, I definitely am now. For fuck’s sake, I need to get my shit under control, and one way of doing that is to focus on my anger. “That was reckless.”

  “No, that was justified. No one slut-shames me and gets away with it. Maybe next time he’ll think twice before using the ‘S’ word.”

  “I’m talking about bringing him out here to begin with. You should know better than to take that kind of risk.”

  “Take it easy, cowboy. I can take care of myself. I’ve taken several self-defense courses, so if he tried anything I didn’t like, I would’ve laid him out flat.”

  Hearing that makes the knot in my gut loosen the slightest bit, but I don’t let on. I simply stare her down like she’s a witness on the stand, and wait for her to crack. Sighing heavily, she rolls her eyes. “Fine, you’re right, he was a terrible choice. But you can help me make up for that.”

  Her lips curve into a coy smile before she dips her chin and gazes up at me through long, dark lashes. Lashes I want to watch flutter down as I bring her to orgasm with my mou—fuck. With every passing second, more of my blood rushes below my belt, and it’s getting increasingly harder—no pun intended—to not let my mind wander. Which is why I don’t notice when she places her palms on my chest, not until I feel a jolt of electricity race beneath the surface of my skin.

  It’s all I can do not to take her in hand and give her exactly what we both want, to jump her where we fucking stand, but I force myself not to react, and remain an impenetrable statue of disinterest.

  “Mmm, so big and hard,” she says, her voice dripping with suggestive undertones I’d have to be dead not to hear. “Can’t wait to see if that’s the case everywhere.”

  She starts to move her hands lower over my abdomen, the friction shooting straight to my dick, until my brain finally wakes up and I catch her wrists to hold them away from me. “What are you doing?”

  “That’s the second time you’ve asked me that. Guess you’re one of those all-brawn-no-brain kind of guys, huh?” The corner of her mouth quirks up. “Good thing I’m not after your brain.”

  I let out a derisive snort. I had my suspicions, but she just proved them by showing me the final card in her hand. Game over, babe. “I’ve got brains enough to know what you’re doing. You never had any intention of messing around with that guy.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Gave yourself away when you told him you knew you’d be castrating him at some point. And since you made it a point to parade him in front of me, I can’t help but think you did it to draw me out. Your manipulation game is strong. I’m impressed.”

  “Ooh, you’re good,” she says. “Then again, so am I, because here you are.”

  I narrow my eyes, giving her the steely gaze that’s been known to intimidate some of the toughest lawyers in Chicago. “I came out here to take you back inside. I like Jane. I don’t think she’d be very happy if she knew I saw you take some asshole into the alley and let it go.”

  Addison doesn’t back down. She doesn’t even blink. “Or maybe you came out here because you want me just as much as I want you.”

  Christ, I need her to drop the idea of us fucking, because if she keeps this up, eventually I’ll cave. I can’t risk shitting in my own backyard and causing problems with my friends. Unfortunately, being Mr. Nice Guy won’t deter a woman like Addison Paige. She’ll only try harder, thinking she can wear me down over time. Asshole it is, then.

  Releasing her wrists, I steel myself with the reassurance that a temporary bruised ego is better than a permanently damaged friendship, and twist my lips into a sneer. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart.”

  If I thought Addison would be insulted so easily, I was way off.

  “Oh, baby boy,” she says, patronizing me like a pro, “I don’t need to flatter myself. Your cock is doing a great job of that all by itself.”

  To prove her point, she molds a hand to the erection snaking down my thigh and strokes it. I release a hissed breath through my teeth, and my control slips. In the span of a heartbeat, I press her back to the wall and pin her hands high above her head. “Just because my dick can’t tell the difference between who’s fuckable and who’s not doesn’t mean I can’t.”

  She lifts her chin higher in order to meet my eyes and glares at me. “Are you calling me unfuckable?”

  “In general, you’re highly fuckable. But we’re in the same circle of friends now, so yeah. For me, that makes you unfuckable.”

  “And why is that, exactly?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “You mean reasons like thinking I’ll get too attached after having experienced sex with the great and powerful Ruthless, which will make things awkward when you have to avoid me at all future friend functions?” My scowl makes her smile and tack on the explanation: “Jane talks too much when she drinks.”

  Well, shit. This isn’t going at all how I thought it would. My “reasons” had seemed logical, even noble, at the time. But the way Addison said it, I’m starting to second-guess my hard-and-fast rule of no fucking my friends’ friends. When it comes to her, anyway.

  My grip loosens on her wrists, allowing her to pull free. I nod my head once and answer tightly. “Something like that.”

  She presses a hand to my chest until I take a step back. Raking her gaze over my body, she gives me a thoroughly unimpressed look and tosses out, “Now who’s flattering themselves?” before heading for the door.

  Shots fired. I can’t help the wide grin that spreads over my face at her retaliatory insult. Fuck me, this woman is driving me insane. The wildcat actually taunted me then strutted away like there’d be no repercussions. My instinct to give chase, to dominate my prey until it submits beneath me, is overwhelming. And Addison is about to learn what happens when you rouse the sleeping beast.

  The spiked heels of her boots click no more than four times when I grab her by the waist and spin her around until she’s right back where we started. Only this time, she’s facing the wall and I’m using the hard planes of my body to hold her in place. Our hands are braced on the brick, her face turned so I have a perfect view of the dirty look she’s giving me. Damn, her insolence is sexy.

  “Are you telling me you can make this a one-off, Addison? That you have no issues with me fucking you and then pretending like it never happened? Because that’s what I’ll do, you know. There won’t be any repeats. No seconds or thirds or once-more-for-old-time’s-sake. You sure you’re good with that?”

  Are you sure you’ll be good with that?

  I mentally tell my subconscious to fuck off. Of course I’ll be good with that. I’ve don
e it hundreds of times before. The fact that I want Addison more than I can remember ever wanting another woman doesn’t mean anything other than I’m horny, and she’s a challenge. Simple animal attraction in its basest form. Case closed.

  Addison rolls her eyes on a dramatic sigh. “Are you done with the American Inquisition yet? I’m getting bored.”

  I’m pretty sure surprise briefly flashes across my face, but I cover it quickly with a cocky smirk. Little minx. “Are you now?” I clench a hand in her hair then pull back hard enough that her mask of boredom slips with a gasp. Chuckling at her ear, I use my free hand to reach under her skirt. I’m barely able to hold back my groan of appreciation when I feel how damp her panties are at the juncture of her legs. It takes a mere second to pull the tiny scrap of material to the side, then without preamble or warning, I plunge a finger deep into her pussy.

  Her body seizes, her slick channel gripping my finger, and a soft sound comes from somewhere in her throat, but it’s nothing like the cry of abandon I thought I’d hear. I met this woman only a few hours ago, and yet she’s surprised me at least twice that much, doing or saying the opposite of what I expect. It isn’t doing anything to soften my cock, that’s for damn sure.

  Testing her control, I withdraw my finger and dip it back in, then do it again and again. The tension she’s wearing like armor begins to drop away, but still she doesn’t let herself go.

  It’s aggravating.

  It’s fucking impressive.

  On the next thrust, I add a second finger and glance over her clit with the pad of my thumb, finally coaxing her to melt against me with a tiny whimper. That’s it…good girl. It isn’t much in the way of submission, but with her it feels like a battle won.

  “You’re practically dripping on my hand, Addison. I’d say you’re far from bored.”

  “I have a medical condition,” she says breathily. “I’m like that all the time.”

  I chuckle—I can’t help it. I find her stubborn contrariness amusing as hell—but I’m careful to leave the humor out of my tone, keeping my predatory edge. My pace quickens and so does her breathing. Her hands fist against the wall as she approaches climax.