Dirty Ties

by Pam Godwin

  “Same things you are.”

  “I doubt that.” He traced a finger along the front of my waistband, lingering on the button. A frustrating linger. But the best kind of frustrating. “Who are you?”

  Oh, I’m only an executive at the largest multimedia conglomerate in the world. Is this a good time for a front page interview? “You mean, where does my money come from?”

  “Sure.”

  I pushed his back against the wall, and his hands flew to my waist, dragging me into the bracket of his legs.

  I reached for the zipper at his neck and slowly lowered it. “I lure notorious men into elevators and fuck them unconscious, all so I can steal their clothes and hock them as collector’s items on Ebay.”

  “That so?” Despite the electronic dubbing, his voice had deepened into a graveled rumble.

  “Mm hmm. How much would this jacket fetch in an auction?” I slid the zipper down, down—Oh God, no shirt, no chest hair—and lower still. I reached the end and pulled the jacket open, exposing a long stretch of naked torso. All that flesh so smooth and cut… Jesus, I wasn’t sure how I’d walk away without smelling it, tasting it.

  “Might have blood on the sleeve.” He held up his arm. Sure enough, a dry stain darkened the cuff. “Increases the value, right?”

  A reminder that he injured, maimed, and often killed during the races. That was the kind of man I was rubbing up against. But temptation was carved into his sexy-as-fuck body. I couldn’t back away, couldn't fight it.

  He was the only man who could arouse me and scare me in the same breath, who could make my pulse thunder so ferociously I felt carelessly drunk. “Is that your blood?”

  “Drago Carrara’s.”

  The Italian racer he’d beat tonight. I followed his waistband from abs to spine, the pragmatic part of me looking for a gun or a blade while the throw-my-panties-to-the-wind part savored the feel of every muscled indentation that carved his hips. “Are you hiding a weapon?”

  He grabbed my wandering hand, spun us until the wall caught my back, and oh my God, his grip pressed my palm against the steel bar between his legs. “Am I?”

  I had no words. No, I was operating in a haze of lust. His fingers abandoned the button of my pants, traveled up my ribs, and before I realized his intent, he ripped my cami from neck to waist.

  My breasts fell free, nipples hardening beneath the gaze of his visor. Then his hands were everywhere, a frenzied caress of skin on skin, of heat and want. He cupped and stroked, tracing every curve, his cock driving against my palm, his breath rushing out in sharp exhales.

  Every touch, every thrust of his hips, made me even more needy, my mind fuzzy, lost in the feel of him. His fingerprints branded my skin, and the temperature in the elevator spiked from hot to atomic. I never wanted this moment to end.

  How far could we take it? I didn’t have condoms with me and doubted he’d carried any to the race. Didn’t stop my mind from rushing to the desired conclusion. “STDs?”

  “Presumptuous about where this is going, aren’t we?”

  I traced the curve of his erection, molding my fingers around its impossibly hard girth. “I’m holding some pretty damning evidence, Evader.”

  His hands curled around my neck, his thumbs trailing gently over the cuts. He held me like he wanted to kiss me. The kind of kiss that lasted for hours, the kind that would leave an eternal aftershock.

  The kind of kiss that would unveil his eyes. Were they green or brown? Dark blue like mine? More importantly, would they give me a window into the man behind the mask? The man who’d risked his ass to save mine.

  I swallowed against his touch, wanting that kiss. “I want to thank you for helping me in the alley.” I reached for the strap beneath his chin.

  He caught my hand and pulled it between our bodies, his other hand still wrapped around my neck. “Thank me by inviting me up.”

  Could he feel my pulse beating against my throat? I felt it everywhere, slamming through my arteries and jolting a throb through my clit. Heaven help me, I wanted to fuck the electronic vibrations out of his voice. I shook my head.

  His body stiffened, his tone deepening. “Got someone waiting upstairs?”

  Collin was probably seven inches deep inside Seth right now. Definitely not waiting. “No.”

  He relaxed, melting his weight against me. “All right.” He thumb stroked the hollow of my throat. “We both have our secrets. Invite me up. We’ll keep the lights off. Hell, we can keep our helmets on.”

  This man, my bed, in the dark? I’d let him blindfold me just so he’d remove his helmet. My hands would be my eyes, exploring his face, his mouth, every tantalizing inch of his chiseled body. I smoothed my palms over the ridges of his chest, stretching my fingers upward, past his collarbone.

  His broad shoulders rolled against my touch, his skin warm and soft over packs of muscle. So much power in his arms, his sculpted chest and strong hands. I’d seen it all in the photos, barely confined by his leathers.

  He wasn’t a man women said no to. The way he carried himself, the way he fought. Built like a warrior, he knew how to manipulate torque and power between his legs. He knew what he could do with it, his killer instincts and quick reflexes, his silhouette so sleek and intimidating on his bike, now all hard and demanding pressed up against me. He knew how to get what he wanted.

  “Let’s go up.” With a flick of his wrist, he freed the chin strap on my helmet.

  Shit. I slapped my hands on top of my head to hold the helmet in place. “Sure, Stranger McDanger. I’ll just give you the security code to my alarm while I’m at it and let you watch me while I’m sleeping. That sounds safe.”

  His hand swept down my throat, along my breastbone, and squeezed my tit. “You won’t be sleeping.” He pinched my nipple, hard enough to make my eyes water and my thighs tremble. “Think you’re safer here than in your condo?”

  “Nope. That’s why silly innovations like security cameras are such a waste of money.” With my hands on my helmet, I pointed a finger at the ceiling of the elevator.

  “We’ll do this here, then.”

  “This?” I mean, I knew what this was, had fantasized about it for months, but the elevator wasn’t the place for a secret liaison.

  “This.” He shifted, his boots bracketing mine, and cupped a hand between my legs.

  The squeak that left my mouth tumbled into a full-body moan as his fingers circled the clit piercing through my pants.

  I rocked my hips against his hand as electric sparks lit up my body. I wanted it, wanted him, so very badly. His powerful shoulders, wide chest, the quickening of his breaths, the aggressive roll of his pelvis, the burnish of highlights glimmering his hair. All of it once a mystically-wrapped package now exposed and offered. I could take it, right now. Except… “Cameras.”

  “They’re offline.”

  “That’s…” I shook my head, my mind swimming through the unbelievability of it.

  Was he lying? Not just anyone could walk into the Trump Tower and bring down its security network. It was too much. Like super-hacker, the government’s-beaming-mind-control-rays-past-my-tinfoil-hat too much. Yet I knew he had something techie going on inside that helmet of his. While that added even more sexy to the whole growly-badass thing he had going on, it also meant he wasn’t working alone.

  “You were talking to someone in the garage. About the cameras?” I envisioned a van waiting outside on the curb, filled with a team of e-crime cyber nerds wearing headsets and thick-framed glasses. “Who?”

  “How did you get access to the racing network?”

  My throat closed up. Crap, I hadn’t expected that question. As an executive at Trenchant, I knew too much about the races. I could broadcast the details, the grids, the racing times, all of it, and bring down the entire syndicate. How many people would try to kill me before that happened? How did I know there weren’t people on my payroll who were members of the network? Watchers. Guardians.

  If Evader discovered who
I was, would he turn me over to the underground network? How loyal was he?

  God, I sounded like a conspiracy nut, but I’d rather be paranoid than dead.

  Actually, I’d rather be coming, because right now, his fingers were still rubbing my clit with maddening skill, making it damned hard to think. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m your next competitor, the racer you haven’t defeated yet. Scared?”

  A chuckle vibrated through his chest, the bionic accent giving it a dangerous edge. “There’s no one I haven’t defeated yet. But you race without clothes on, then yeah, you got a good chance of winning.”

  I released a soundless breath, thankful he hadn’t pressed for the truth. He really did seem content with letting me keep my secrets.

  Fingers slipped beneath the tight grip of my helmet. “Tell me your face is as intoxicating as your body.” He wedged his hands around my jaw, his thumbs sweeping up and coming together on my lips. “What are you…twenty-five?”

  Unsure how to answer, I lifted my shoulder, holding tight to my helmet. The compliment both warmed and worried me. I hadn’t been twenty-five for twelve fucking years, and now I really didn’t want him to know my age.

  “Full lips,” he murmured as a thumb pushed past my teeth and held down my tongue.

  It was a dominating grip, an act of ownership, but not malicious. Which fit him well. Erotically so. Like the mold of his leathers.

  I didn’t release the hold on my helmet, but my God, this felt…right. How many men had I been with over the past two decades? Too many. Yet none had touched me, aroused me, or controlled me like this. And he did it with the pressure of his thumb.

  The salty flavor of his skin fused with the scent of leather from the gloves he’d removed. He thrust in and out of my mouth, simulating the flex of his hips.

  I sucked his thumb with hollowed cheeks, swirling my tongue and teasing a delicious moan from deep in his throat. Desire swelled between my belly button and spine, building into a knot and spreading low, lower, until my inner muscles ignited in mini-spasms.

  I no longer gave a shit if he was lying about the cameras being down. I only cared about his fingers and where he would put them next.

  “Fucking hell, that mouth.” He moved his hands, closing his fingers around my neck. “What are you trying to do to me?”

  I followed the V cut of his abs to the waistband of his pants. “Nothing near what I want to do.”

  He didn’t stop me from freeing the button, didn’t stay my hand as I grasped the zipper. His fingers mirrored my actions, yanking my pants to my thighs, only to find another layer of clothing.

  In his hurry, he knocked my hand away from his zipper and gripped my leggings, the snug fit of cotton reluctant to slide past my hips. He seemed to give up on stripping me, his fingers shoving beneath the fabric, and with the absence of panties, sliding directly over my clit and the steel ring that adorned it.

  “Jesus. Are you serious?” His modulated groan penetrated my chest as he worked his fingers. “Had it in my head you were a soulless Stepford bitch, sneaking away from a boring husband in the middle of the night. But this?” He pinched the piercing and used it to drive pressurized circles around my clit. “You’re not a cookie-cutter rich girl, are you?”

  I stifled a flinch. “Wow, I hope not.” Some of what he’d said cut too close to my sensitive self-image. “You’re kind of a dick for thinking it.”

  He laughed, and the complex sound magnified the tremors ricocheting through me. My legs turned to rubber. I fumbled for his zipper, bumping his erection and making his hips jerk against my hands.

  With one arm braced on the wall, his head dipped toward me, knocking our helmets. We both groaned in frustration.

  I reached into his pants, and the back of my hand brushed a trim patch of hair. I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose. Commando. Of course, he was. “Still won’t remove your helmet?” I lowered his zipper and swallowed my next breath as his length jutted into my hands.

  “Fuck.” He leaned closer, trapping me, his fingers slipping inside me. “Yours first.”

  His touch swirled through my folds, slow at first, dragging along my inner walls. Then he accelerated his movements, sharpening into a savage pounding of fingers and flesh. Unyielding, intense, almost angry. I felt his reach so fucking deep. Waves of pleasure crashed through me, the wildness of it pouring from his skin and clipping his breaths.

  The vicious thrusts of his fingers drove my back against the wall and my need way past go. His sturdy frame wrapped around me, his unfettered strength teasing my release closer, faster, then pulling back, only to start again.

  My arousal slicked over his hand and down my inner thighs. My spine arched, and I closed my eyes, focusing on keeping my feet on the floor.

  He fingered me to the edge of oblivion, over and over, arousing images of my knees on the ground, his fingers around my throat, and his powerful thighs bracketing my body, caging me in, controlling me.

  Goosebumps rose across my chest, and a hum shook beneath my skin, trembling deeper, coiling inside me. Was it fear? Hunger? A collision of the two?

  When I looked up, the answer was there. I felt it sliding over me, all six feet and endless inches of dark mystery and sexy confidence. The passion, the fire, the something more I would do anything for.

  His hand slipped from my pants as I dropped to my knees, eye-level with his arousal. His wide length as glorious as it was intimidating, the broad, circumcised head drawing me closer, rushing saliva over my tongue. I placed a hand on my visor, a fuck it all away from shoving off my helmet.

  If I kept my head down, loosened my hair around my face, would he see my features? If he did see me, maybe he wouldn’t recognize me. Collin had the famous face, and unless Evader followed televised politics, he wouldn’t know who I was. But without an investigation and a signed NDA, it was risky. He could blackmail me or leak our affair to the media, to my parents. Would he do that?

  His fingers curled around the underside of my helmet. If I didn’t remove it soon, he’d probably do it for me.

  He used the grip to hold me an inch from his erection. “Do you want to stare at it or suck it?”

  I held onto my helmet. “I don’t know.” I did, more than anything, but I hadn’t thought this through. “I— I have a…career to protect.”

  “A career, huh? Beyond auctioning stolen merchandise?” His head jerked toward the metal card in the slot, and in the next heartbeat, every button on the panel lit up.

  Blood drained from my face. “How did you—” Oh my God, he had access to every floor. “That’s how you got through the garage door?”

  “That was luck. Slipped in behind a Bentley.”

  Yeah, that didn’t make me feel any safer. I started to stand, but his hands came down on mine, holding my helmet, and my body, in place. My heart pounded. “What are you going to do?”

  He swiped a finger over his jaw—or along the edge of his helmet?—the movement done with blurring speed. “Yes.”

  “Yes? That’s not an answer. Who are you talking to, dammit?”

  His warm hands squeezed mine, using his hold to tilt my head back. “You want to wrap your mouth around my cock?”

  The hard, heavy weight between us brushed against my exposed neck, coaxing a breathy rasp from my lips. “Yes.”

  “You want to keep your face hidden?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked at the panel, his hands restraining the motion of my helmet. The floor dug into my knees, and my nerves volleyed between worry and excitement. He seemed to be waiting for something, and as the seconds passed, my worrying was winning out.

  “What are—”

  The overhead lights powered off, as did the panel of buttons. Pitch-black flooded the elevator. I blinked, shock locking my limbs as my breaths tumbled noisily through the dark.

  “Does this resolve our dilemma?” His voice echoed around me, shivering my insides.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.
The answer to all of life’s problems.” Despite my grip, he yanked off my helmet and dropped it beside my knees.

  Cool air tingled my cheeks as I jerked my chin to my chest, my shoulders bunching around my face. With the total absence of light, he couldn’t see me, and I couldn’t see him, but sweet Lord, I could smell him. Leather, a hint of soap, and the natural scent of his skin guided me toward his straining cock.

  I kept my head down, gripped the hard muscles of his bare ass, and rubbed my cheek against his arousal. Pulsing heat gathered between my legs as my face and lips explored the steel of his cock wrapped in warm, satiny skin.

  His hands slapped against the metal wall above me, his length growing harder, hotter against my mouth. With an eager lick, I swirled my tongue around the tip, the salty drip of pre-cum smearing over my lips.

  He groaned, low and guttural, and his legs trembled beneath my arms. “Look at me.”

  How did he know where I was looking? And why did he care? So he could turn the elevator back on? Or shine some kind of lamp— Shit! Didn’t he have a flashlight in his pocket?

  Head down. Don’t look up. I curled my fingers around his length and drew him into my mouth. After a few teasing suckles, a nip of teeth, and a caress of his heavy balls, I dug in my nails and squeezed his sac.

  He shouted, but it was thick with arousal and rumbled into a moan as I swallowed the full length of him. When he hit the back of my throat, I balled my left hand, squeezing my thumb, a trick to disable my gag reflex.

  How long had it been since I’d done this without a condom? I didn’t care. Hell, I wanted to drag my tongue over every inch of his unwrapped body. I wriggled my head back and forth, rubbing his cock against the back of my throat.

  His body shook, and his ass flexed in my hand. I fucking loved it, loved that I could affect him as much as he affected me.

  Jesus, he was so thick, the head of his cock cut my air, watering my eyes. My throat wanted to convulse, but I tightened my fist, eased back a little, and breathed through it.

  The sounds of his sharp, uneven inhales surrounded me. I sucked harder, faster, letting saliva trickle out so I could slide my fist through it, pumping with a tight grip around the head and lapping at the tip.