Cade's Dare (Crime Tells)

by Jory Strong

  Heat shivered through her. From mouth to breasts. From breasts to stomach. From stomach to pool between her legs.

  “Omelets are good,” he said. “I’m going to grab a quick shower.”

  He halted the sweep of his thumb against her mouth, pressed instead, eyes darkening with sensual demand.

  Her body answered in defiance of her mind’s determination to get on with her day, like it was any other day, like it’d been unchanged by Cade’s arrival.

  Her lips parted. Her tongue darted out, stroked his thumb, invited it in.

  He answered the invitation, pushing his thumb into her mouth.

  She sucked, both of them knowing it was a substitute for his cock, both of them knowing if he demanded it, she’d slide downward.

  He pulled his thumb from her mouth. Brushed it across her lips.

  “Go cook breakfast, Grace,” he said, heated edge in his voice, turning her offer of omelets into a demonstration of submission.

  His hand fell away from her face. He stopped blocking the door, but not enough for her to pass without their touching.

  Cade allowed her to flee to the kitchen. It took everything he had to let her go when what he wanted was a completely different show of submission. Grace on her knees with his dick between those lips. Grace across his thighs, her ass reddened by the spanking she’d gotten for locking the fucking door.

  Take it slow. Take it easy.

  That was the smart play right now. They had things to sort out, a lifetime together ahead of them.

  She’d give him reason to swat her little ass, of that he was sure. She’d take his cock between those beautiful lips, on her own or because he demanded it. They both wanted it so it’d happen.

  He got beneath the hot spray of water. Soaped and shampooed. Willed the boner her locking the door had created to go away. Finally accepted it wouldn’t, not without some help.

  Less than twelve hours with Grace and he was jerking off in the shower, something he hadn’t done in so long he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had to use his hand.

  Fuck! The word sent a tremor through him. But at least he didn’t need to pull up a favorite fantasy.

  He relived the night, need and heat building at remembering the feel of her beneath him, the sounds she made, the taste of her, the bare pussy he intended to get his mouth on again.

  His hips and hand moved faster and faster, pleasure building, building, releasing with a groan, an eruption of semen.

  “Grace,” he panted, buttocks clenching and back arching. “Grace.”

  Pleasure kept shuddering through him. Left him with a hand braced against the shower wall and the knowledge slow and easy wasn’t going to be possible for long.

  Mace needed to be part of this or not. Either way, it needed to be settled.

  Grace was wired to give herself over to a dominant man’s keeping, but the choice about whether or not to give herself to Mace she had to make of her own free will. That was a lifestyle she had to accept going in—and his brother damn well had to be fully committed to Grace going forward or there wouldn’t be a forward. He wasn’t about to let her get hurt.

  Cade finished showering. Tugged on his jeans then went to the kitchen.

  Warmth spread through his chest at seeing Grace at the stove, looking sexy as hell as she cooked his breakfast. His dick twitched, making him grin. The damn thing was insatiable when it came to her.

  “Perfect timing,” she said. “The omelets are ready. Hope you’re good with Southwestern.”

  “I’m good with anything you fix.”

  That earned him a smile over her shoulder. One that drew him to her like sunshine.

  He pressed a kiss to her neck, inhaled the scent of Grace. Not a smart thing to do if he wanted his dick to behave.

  “OJ is on the table,” she said. “Your coffee is still in the pot.”

  He reached around, cupped her breasts because he couldn’t stop himself from doing it. The arch of her back and soft, needy sound appeased him in a way no meal ever could.

  He sought out the place he’d marked on her skin. Kissed it then released her to grab a cup of coffee and help her by taking his own plate to the table.

  Sitting he asked, “Where’s the dog?”

  “Perry’s already eaten his wet food. He’s probably back on his chair. That’s his favorite spot. Later in the day he’ll go outside and snooze near the vegetable garden.”

  Cade took a bite of omelet. Decided he’d never tasted a better one and told her as much, loving the smile that brought to her face, the added shine in her eyes.

  Damn she was beautiful. She’d still be beautiful ten years from now, thirty, fifty, when their grandkids were working in the bars or at Crime Tells.

  Slow and easy he reminded himself.

  “So where’s Michael? I haven’t seen him around in a while.”

  Probably a good thing to know in case her brother tried to make good on his threat to come after Mace and him if they tried to play with either of his sisters.

  “He’s working a job for Bulldog in Atlantic City.”

  Yeah, there was a little bit of relief in having him on the other side of the country.

  “And Jordyn?” Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Grace’s sister since Cady’s wedding.

  “Playing poker in Vegas.”

  “Having any luck?”

  “All of it bad, the last time I talked to her. What about you? Anything significant going on?”

  This. You.

  “I went to a funeral yesterday. A guy I served with killed himself. Jammed a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.”

  Shit! He hadn’t meant to drop that load onto her.

  “Oh, Cade,” she said, soft voiced, her eyes going liquid.

  She covered her hand with his. “You want to talk about it, about him?”

  He shrugged. What was there to say?

  Her hand squeezed his. “What was his name?”

  “Jesse. Jesse Delgado. He was a hell of a Marine.”

  “PTSD?”

  “Yeah, that was part of it. I thought he was doing okay.”

  “I take it he wasn’t local.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you would have been there for him if he was.”

  Her words sent a ripple of warmth through his chest. Her faith in him dissipated some of the grief and guilt he’d been carrying. He sighed, flipped his hand to squeeze hers, and palm to palm, it felt as if her heart touched his with each pulse. “Yeah, yeah I would have been. I would have done what I could for him in L.A. if I’d known.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, then he took the conversation back into the safe. What the other Maguires and Montgomerys were up to, what betting pools were going.

  He steered away from mention of the case. But he didn’t miss Grace’s expectation as they finished eating that they’d finally reached goodbye. He didn’t miss the frown on her face when he sat on the sofa rather than collect the shirt draped over Perry’s chair and put on his shoes.

  She stopped next to the chair. “Cade…”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Grace.”

  She stroked the dachshund, waking him then picking him up and cradling him against her chest.

  Cade grinned. He couldn’t keep himself from doing it.

  Did she really think holding the dog would stop him from touching her? Seducing her? Making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere?

  Probably time to clue her in that he was here to stay. Leaning back, spreading his arms along the top edge of the couch, he said, “I only got a quick and dirty overview last night. Give me the details about your case.”

  Grace’s heart leapt as though suddenly facing a line of hurdles. Her mouth went dry, the way it used to just before a track race.

  No. This cannot be happening.

  Yet clearly it was. And now she had a pretty good idea why Cade was here, call it, protector with benefits, probably the end result of him playing poker
with a Montgomery or Maguire and losing a side bet.

  Steely fingers clamped around her heart, squeezed. She tried to loosen them by telling herself the reason behind his showing up didn’t really matter. That she didn’t care if he’d come here because he had to instead of because he’d had a sudden, overwhelming desire to claim what was his—

  No. No. No. No. She could not think that way.

  Yes, being with him had been thrilling.

  Yes, now she knew for sure an alternative lifestyle could be a fit for her, not fetish wear and BDSM clubs, or parties where she was put on display, or calling a lover Sir, but a lifestyle that included dominance and submission, one where she could surrender her worries at the front door, or at least the bedroom door and give herself over completely to the man in her life—or men, if they were the right men.

  Because yes, though she’d never even dated two men at the same time, she thought she could be very happy having what Calista had with Dante and Benito, and what Kiera had with Quade and Lucca.

  But Cade was not the right man. Mace was not the right man. Together they were not the right men.

  They were the stuff of pure fantasy. In real life, they were heartbreak.

  Cade’s reason for showing up, and what had come afterward, didn’t change that truth.

  Grace placed a kiss on Perry’s head and put him back on the chair because she had a feeling she was going to need her hands free.

  Right, as if she was going to bodily throw Cade out of the house. Though if it came down to it, he could stay and keep Perry company, as long as she made her escape—and soon.

  She mentally patted herself on the back for getting completely dressed. Grab her purse and she’d have keys, phone, gun—though she shouldn’t need a weapon—and she could spend all day keeping eyes on Avery London.

  “Cade, I’m not going to talk about the case. You don’t work for Crime Tells and there’s client confidentiality to consider.”

  There, that sounded professional. Non-confrontational.

  He came off the couch and prowled toward her, causing treacherous heat to coil in her stomach and slide lower, causing treacherous feet to take a step backward, the retreat only heightening the sensual menace radiating from Cade.

  “Wrong answer, sweetheart.”

  Strong hands encircled her upper arms, jerking her body flush against his.

  She fought melting against him. For what good it did.

  His expression said he knew how much he affected her and he’d use her body to war against her mind if he had to.

  “I’m here for the duration, Grace.”

  “Whether I want you here or not?”

  She immediately regretted the challenge. Or at least her mind did. The rest of her readily surrendered when his mouth slammed down on hers, hard and dominating and determined to make her admit the truth.

  His tongue thrust against hers, eliciting one soft moan after another, reminding her of how good it’d felt to have his mouth on her sex, how good it’d felt to have their bodies joined, his cock filling her.

  In. Out.

  In. Out.

  In. Out.

  She tried to rip her mouth away from his.

  He didn’t let her escape. Didn’t let her evade.

  Resistance melted away. Her body softened, rubbed, inciting his to make her forget everything else but going back to bed.

  “Tell me you don’t want me here,” he dared.

  Need shuddered through her. No fair, she wanted to say, because she did want to experience the fantasy that was Cade for a little while longer—not just the sex, but the togetherness.

  Share the case. It would keep them out of bed, maybe even keep her from becoming more sexually enthralled.

  Lie. Every moment in his company drew her in more deeply. But then, long stretches of not seeing either him or Mace hadn’t cured her either.

  She could easily rationalize sharing the details of the case. He was trustworthy. Bulldog was pragmatic, as long as the job got done and the client wasn’t compromised. And obviously, someone in her family thought she needed some added protection.

  “It’s my case. I’m calling the shots.”

  Rather than smile at having achieved a victory, Cade’s expression hardened in a way that had her heart fluttering. His hand traveled up her arm, slid along her shoulder, collared her throat. His thumb stroked her neck, measuring a pulse that sped at his touch, that sped because of the dominance pouring off him and her desire to submit.

  “It’s your case. But you are most definitely not calling the shots anymore, Grace.”

  She trembled, loving the dark growl in his voice, the command and control, though something prompted her to say, “A fun night doesn’t give you rights.”

  “Wrong, sweetheart.”

  His mouth took hers, reinforcing the message that he did have rights, telling her it was pointless to resist but she was welcome to try because he’d be happy to demonstrate otherwise.

  But resistance was nonexistent. At least in that moment.

  She melted against him, hated that her shirt and bra kept her from touching bared breasts and hardened nipples to his solid chest, hated it that their jeans kept her from rubbing her bare mound against his hardened cock.

  She whimpered when he ended the kiss.

  His eyes locked on hers. “It wasn’t just a fun night.”

  Chapter Four

  Grace’s heart soared like a bird taking flight toward the heavens. Self-preservation prevailed before it could reach those heights, slapping a cage made of steely reality around it.

  “Meaning what, Cade, I’m the flavor of the month? No, make that the week?”

  Make it days if she wrapped this case up as quickly as she hoped.

  A muscle spasmed in his cheek. His lips firmed. “You’re the only flavor. Period. Get used to the idea, Grace.”

  Her heart banged faster, harder. She did her best to thicken the bars surrounding it, only barely kept herself from saying, What about, Mace?

  Because she suspected Cade and Mace were like Dante and Benito, and Lucca and Quade. She knew from girl-talk in the hot tub and at the poker table that when it came to those men, the sharing went deeper. It wasn’t the casual pass around of a woman they’d both been with. It was about their relationship, a bond that’d been formed earlier in their lives.

  Deeper meant it was a need, a craving, something that’d be hard to give up. Even if she believed Cade intended to give up all the casual sex partners for her—and she did believe that he believed what he was saying because there was no point in him feeding her some line—it wouldn’t last. At some point he’d get tempted by seeing Mace with someone, or down the road, doing the same woman every day would lose its appeal—especially when there was a non-stop stream of gorgeous, very available, very willing women passing through their bars.

  If she’d thought walking in on David and Bethany was bad…

  The fist in her hair tightened. Cade’s lips firmed. Both were a silent demand for her to say something in response to his claim.

  Whatever would get her in trouble. And the truth was, she couldn’t pull off flippant. That left the job as a shield.

  “I need to take over the surveillance. Braden’s got his own stuff to handle.”

  Cade couldn’t fucking believe it. He’d just made a life-changing declaration and her only response was to say she needed to get to work?

  He felt like shaking her until the words he wanted to hear came loose. Better yet, take her back to bed and fuck them out of her, I love you to start with, or I belong to you, or vice versa.

  He covered her mouth with his to keep from saying something he’d regret, not because he didn’t mean it, but because the timing was wrong to tell her that her days of working for Crime Tells and being put in dangerous situations were numbered.

  His lips parted hers. His tongue thrust against hers. His grip on her tightened.

  He didn’t attempt to gentle the kiss. She was tying him in knots
, making him crazy. This didn’t have to be complicated.

  He wanted her.

  She wanted him.

  Hell. It went beyond want, beyond fantasy, beyond fascination.

  They were meant for each other. The two of them. The three of them if Mace would get his shit together.

  To prove the point, her body softened in submission. Rubbed against his in supplication.

  Pleasure shuddered through him, burning away the frustration and leaving surety, sanity.

  He’d get the words he wanted. He didn’t need to push for them now because giving her time gave him the opportunity to do something about Mace.

  “I’ve got clothes in the car,” he said. “I’ll grab them and change, then we can head out.”

  “Okay,” she said, soft-voiced, eyes clouded, her lips parted, wet and swollen.

  Yeah, maybe he was a total ass, a complete male chauvinist, but he liked her sweet agreement, liked that she looked well loved and only a few kisses away from total surrender.

  He brushed his mouth against hers, just so he could feel her reaction when he said, “Just a reminder, you don’t want to put a locked door between us again.”

  Grace’s shiver of desire traveled from her lips into his, and then downward to his dick. He didn’t care if that meant he was going to suffer later. It was worth it.

  I’m what you need, Grace. You’re what I need.

  He left the house, checked out the neighboring ones but saw no sign of Tyler who lived three houses down, or Erin who lived beside him, or Grace’s neighbor—he wasn’t sure who had the house that used to be Cady’s.

  He grabbed fresh clothes from the Porsche. Frowned at not finding Grace in the living room. Felt his temper rising and his pulse speeding when she wasn’t in the bedroom, the bathroom, the small office.

  He changed out of the jeans and put on fresh boxer briefs. Got his shoes on.

  If she’d fucking slipped out on him…

  He opened the back door, temper disappearing and leaving a frustrated desire to spank her. Not fair. But there it was.

  That one little slap to her pussy and her response to it had only whetted his appetite to give her more sensual discipline. He’d bet everything he owned that he was the first to have proof she liked a little pain with her pleasure.