Down & Dirty (Bundle)

by Rogers, Moira

  “I won’t.” He couldn’t; he’d lost control of his actions. She was tight and wet and so fucking hot, and he couldn’t slow his pace. He slammed forward so hard she gasped, and pleasure took on a sharp edge as he felt release moving closer. “God, come for me, Lottie, come for me.”

  “I --” Her voice cracked, swept away in a breathless scream as she came. Her body convulsed around his, drawing him deeper, holding him even as he buried his face in her neck to muffle his shout of release as pleasure crashed over him. He drove into her one last time and bit the side of her neck as three years of built up tension exploded.

  She cried out again and wove her fingers into his hair, holding his head. She panted and trembled, murmured to him in soft whispers that soothed him as surely as her words before had excited him.

  The sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway and Hazel’s voice calling Lottie’s name was somewhat less soothing.

  Thomas swore and jerked away, barely managing to get Lottie off of the desk before the door crashed open. Lottie’s skirts slid down around her legs and mostly blocked his open pants from Hazel’s gaze, but nothing could hide the evidence of what had just happened.

  The young woman took in the scattered desk before her gaze jumped to Lottie’s disheveled hair. Hazel’s nostrils flared slightly and her eyes widened. “Oh my God!”

  To her credit, Lottie sounded almost calm when she spoke. “Hazel, excuse us, please. Wait for me at the bar.”

  Hazel gaped. “You were -- you two -- Oh Jesus.” She backed out hastily and slammed the door behind her.

  Lottie sighed shakily and smoothed her hair over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should have locked the door.” She peered up at him with amused green eyes. “I didn’t know our conversation would take such an… intriguing turn.”

  Thomas thought he might be blushing for the first time in about a decade. He fumbled with his pants and tried not to laugh. “I suppose now we’ve scared about five years off Hazel’s life.”

  “She’s young. She can spare them.” Lottie retrieved his shirt and vest from the floor. “Serves her right for barging in. Though I suppose I was loud.” Her cheeks colored.

  “She never was a fan of knocking.” He pulled his shirt back over his head and spent a few moments on the buttons as he fought the memory of Lottie’s voice, loud and breathless as she wrapped her lips around his name… That is not going to help.

  She made a small noise of agreement and slipped into her shoes. “We need --” Lottie broke off on a sigh and faced him. “Spend the weekend with me.”

  Thomas froze. “What?”

  She looked shocked by her own words, but determined. “Think of it as a sort of… trial run. Crash test compatibility. And I can -- can give you an answer to that question you haven’t asked me yet.”

  The words slipped out before he could stop them. “You mean the question of whether you’d consider marrying me?”

  “Yes, that question.” Her eyes darkened, and she smiled. “Unless… it’s not something you meant to ask. In which case, I think I’ll crawl under my desk and hide for a few years.”

  Thomas lifted his hands and framed Lottie’s face. “I would have asked a long time ago if you’d seemed interested.”

  Her smile widened, then faded. “This is terrible timing. I understand if you can’t, you know. Because of your investigation.”

  He hadn’t even thought of it, which showed how scrambled his brain was. He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Hazel’s voice followed. “Are you coming out or are you going at it a second time?”

  Lottie glanced at the door with a short sigh. “Tonight. Come by for dinner, and we can talk about it then.” She tugged him down for a quick kiss. “No one can fault you for dinner.”

  “Dinner,” Thomas agreed softly, even as Hazel knocked again. He rolled his eyes and raised his voice. “Can you give us a few minutes, Hazel?”

  “Sure,” came the upset reply. “I probably won’t throw up again in the next five minutes, but if I do you’re cleaning it up.”

  Lottie handed him his vest and hurried to the door. “Hazel, what’s going on? Are you sick?”

  “Possibly. Or my new husband is incredibly virile.”

  And that was Thomas’ cue to leave. He shrugged into his vest. “Why don’t I get out of your way, Charlotte. If you need to postpone our plans, just send someone by Jack’s office with a note. I’ll be there all afternoon.”

  “It’ll be fine, I’m sure,” she said distractedly, already wrapping an arm around Hazel’s shoulders. “Six o’clock?”

  “On the dot,” he promised. “But if you need anything before then…” He caught her gaze and nodded at Hazel. “Don’t hesitate to come and get me.”

  Lottie smiled. “We’ll be all right, Thomas. Nothing wrong with Hazel, I bet. Not in the least.” Her eyes darkened. “I’ll see you this evening.”

  He wanted to say something else, to find some excuse to linger in her presence, but with Hazel huddled in her arms and fairly radiating nervous misery, there was nothing to do but nod and retreat.

  Lottie bit her lip as Thomas all but ran off. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. They’d have plenty of time to talk. “How long have you been getting sick, Hazel?”

  “I’m not sure. A week maybe?” Hazel looked exhausted and, with Thomas gone, her brave facade wilted. “We’re only just married, and I don’t even know if he wants children this soon. I -- I was taking care of things so it wouldn’t happen until we were sure…”

  “Sit.” Lottie guided her to a chair and managed not to blush when she glanced at her disheveled desk. Once she had Hazel safely in a chair, she turned to the table by the window and poured a glass of water. “Have you talked to Oliver about your suspicions yet?”

  Hazel twisted her hands together and shook her head. “I don’t want to say anything unless -- unless I know. He gets so upset if he thinks anything might be wrong with me, and when he gets overprotective I throw things at him, and then --” For once, Hazel actually looked self-conscious. “That sort of sex probably isn’t good if I’m pregnant now.”

  “Babies are remarkably resilient, honey, even in the womb. It’s probably fine.”

  “How do I know?” Hazel accepted the glass of water, but reached out with her free hand and grasped Lottie’s. “I don’t know how to find out. Do I -- do I just wait?”

  “You probably don’t have to.” There hadn’t been much in the way of reliable pregnancy tests, not since the plague that had rendered everyone technophobic and thrust society back two centuries. “There are changes, even this early, that can be recognized if you know what to look for. Doctor Baker can do that.”

  “Will you go with me?”

  “Oh, honey.” Lottie brushed Hazel’s hair back from her face. “Of course I will. We’ll call on him right now, how about that?”

  “That would be --” Hazel broke off, her expression growing ill again. “Oh, God, doesn’t it stop? I think I’m going to be sick again.”

  A quick step took Lottie back to her desk. She grabbed the small metal wastebasket and held it, one hand still stroking Hazel’s hair. They’d visit the doctor, and she’d make sure Hazel felt comfortable speaking to her husband about their situation.

  Then, she’d spend the rest of her weekend hiding from the world, entirely focused on Thomas.

  Chapter Three

  Lottie had just finished her bath and was going to check on dinner before dressing when the heavy brass knocker hit the front door. Thomas. She wasn’t really decent, not in just a robe, but she supposed they’d passed decency when he’d taken her on her desk that afternoon.

  Memories of his body inside hers heated her cheeks, and she cursed silently as she opened the door.

  Thomas was a gentleman but, she was pleased to note, not so much of one that his gaze didn’t dip before he dragged it back up to her face. “I’m sorry. I’m early.”

  “It’s all right. Come in.”
She fought the urge to reach for him as she stepped aside. “How was your afternoon?”

  “Long and boring.” He hesitated just inside the door and leaned down to brush his lips against her cheek in a soft kiss that was gone too fast. “How is Hazel?”

  “Pregnant,” Lottie admitted. “Excited, confused, scared. We spent a few hours at Doctor Baker’s office. She had a million questions. I think she’s in shock.”

  Thomas shrugged out of his coat. “Does Oliver know yet?”

  “She’s telling him tonight.” Lottie took his coat and draped it over her arm, but temptation got the better of her. She slid her other hand around the back of his neck and tugged him down until his lips met hers.

  He groaned and caught her around the waist, dragging her up his body and into a deeper kiss that ended before she’d gotten a chance to enjoy it. Thomas panted roughly against her cheek, but didn’t let her down. “Maybe I shouldn’t touch you right now, because I am bound and determined to get you into a bed next time.”

  “Dinner’s warming, but it’ll keep.” Her fingers brushed his cheek, and her body heated. “We could go upstairs.”

  The sound of his pounding heart echoed in her ears as he pressed a hot kiss to the base of her throat. “Playing civilized is a hard habit to break, Lottie. And you deserve more than being turned over the nearest piece of furniture every damn time I touch you.”

  She arched her head back further, inviting more kisses. “Even if it’s what I want?”

  “Do you?” His teeth closed lightly over her pulse. “I may have a hard time keeping my hands off you, but the sorts of things I want to do with you mean more than a fast fuck on a desk.”

  The import of his words sent a shiver through her. “I know. I just… like knowing you want me.” The way I want you.

  Thomas laughed. “Charlotte, I should think you wouldn’t wonder at the moment.” One strong hand settled low on her back and rocked her against him. “I don’t think I’m being particularly subtle.”

  The heat of his cock grinding against her through her robe was overwhelming. “Take me upstairs, Thomas.” Lottie’s hands shook as she clutched his shoulders. “It doesn’t have to be fast. We could go slow.”

  “We can try, anyway.” He hefted her a little higher and urged her legs around his hips. “Never been upstairs before, darling. Point me in the right direction?”

  “Second door on the left is my bedroom,” she whispered, already engrossed in exploring the soft skin under his collar.

  She could barely recall a time when she hadn’t watched Thomas and wondered what he was like under the calm front he always presented. If he’d approach everything in the same unruffled manner, or if there was something more burning inside him. She’d gotten a taste of that passion that afternoon in her office, and she wanted more. She wanted him.

  And he seemed determined to grant her wish. His fingers rubbed small, gentle circles against her back as he carried her to the bedroom. “Tell me,” he whispered as he lowered her to the bed. “There are so many things I want to do. The man wants to take his time, to make love to you. The wolf…”

  His struggle reflected the one inside her, woman versus wolf. “We have time, Thomas. It might feel desperate at first, but we have time to get past that.” She pulled at the knotted belt of her robe. “Don’t worry so much.”

  The corner of his mouth twisted up in a sad little smile. “Worrying is my job, Lottie.”

  Her chest ached, and she dropped the belt to stroke his face. “Not here, all right? Not with me.”

  “Not with you.” He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into her touch with a low sound. “God, Lottie. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.” She guided his hands to her hips and kissed him. “You said the same thing earlier, and you didn’t hurt me in the least. We were made for this, honey. Both of us.”

  His thumbs swept out and teased at skin left bare by the part in her robe. “Maybe hurt’s the wrong word. Maybe I don’t want to offend you. I may not be Jack Owens, but I’m a strong wolf with needs that aren’t always polite.”

  “And that’s exactly what I am, Thomas.” Desperate to put him at ease, Lottie slipped her arms around his neck and drew him closer. “Some of the things I want would make you blush, I’d wager.”

  His lips hovered over her lips. Hesitated. Drifted down to her ear, and the words he whispered made her shudder and clench her fingers in his shirt. “Right this second I’m resisting the urge to demand you curl your lips around my cock.”

  Need made her hands shake, but she pushed at his shoulders until he rolled away, onto the bed. She rose slowly and tugged at his shoes. Once his feet were bare, she climbed over his thighs and reached for his shirt. “Tell me more.”

  “More?” He lifted his arms and let her drag his wrinkled shirt over his head. “How could I be thinking about anything else? You have these lips, gorgeous and soft and full. I’d dream about them on my skin. On my cock. Your lips and your tongue and your mouth.”

  Her fingers trembled on his belt, and his words sent aroused shivers racing up her spine. “Sometimes, I’d catch myself staring at you, rubbing my tongue against the roof of my mouth because I could almost taste you,” she murmured. “You don’t know how many times I almost threw myself at you.”

  “Plenty of men threw themselves at you,” he pointed out, the words a low rasp. “You didn’t seem to like the blunt, aggressive approach. I thought I should woo you with my best manners.”

  “I didn’t want them.” She held his gaze as she slid the robe off her shoulders and let it fall. “I wanted you.”

  His gaze dropped from her face, drifting down her body in a slow, deliberate fashion. His lips parted, and a soft growl escaped as he reached up and brushed his fingers over the curve of one breast. “Jesus Christ, Lottie. Fantasies don’t do you justice.”

  She could feel the blush creeping under her skin, so she lowered her eyes and tugged open his pants. “I was going to say the same thing about you.”

  Her hands brushed the rigid length of his cock, and memories from that afternoon rendered her clumsy. She’d barely pulled his underwear down and freed his cock when she gave in to desire and wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

  “Fuck.” The harsh word sounded so much coarser coming from a man who rarely swore around her. His eyes narrowed and his fingers jumped to her arm and slid higher to curl in her loose hair. “Your mouth, Lottie. I need your mouth.”

  She’d planned to move slowly, to show him that she wanted more than fast and frantic too. But what she wanted most of all was to give him what he needed, so she bent and skimmed kisses over his belly and hip. When she reached his cock, she watched his face as she eased him past her lips and into the wet depths of her mouth.

  His hips lifted off the bed and he swore again. He brought his other hand up to cup the back of her head, and watched as she took him deeper. “You look almost as hot as you feel.”

  His reactions were all the encouragement she needed. She slowed down, stroking her tongue over him. When he hissed in a breath and trembled, she moved her hand and slid her lips as far down his shaft as she could.

  A growl ripped free of him, and the power constrained inside of him broke free. It hit Lottie with almost physical force, and she whimpered as the urge to roll over and bare her throat -- to submit -- nearly overwhelmed her.

  She released him and panted against his hip. “What do you want, Thomas?”

  The fingers in her hair coaxed her to the side before Thomas rolled to his knees. “A word. A word you can say that will stop everything.”

  She couldn’t imagine ever wanting him to stop anything. But if he needed a word… “Cheeseburger.”

  Thomas froze. “Cheeseburger. I --” His lips twitched. “Do you have something against cheeseburgers?”

  “No.” Her laugh sounded shy even to her own ears. “But it’s the first thing I thought of that had nothing to do with us being naked.”

  “Fa
ir enough.” He reached down and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “Since you seem so determined to see me shed my nice polite manners, I want you to get on your hands and knees. And I want your lips back on my cock.”

  It took Lottie a moment to move. Still trembling, she crawled toward him and planted her hands on either side of his knees. It would have been easier to guide his cock to her mouth with one hand, but she kept both flat on the bed as she closed her lips around him again.

  His hands returned to her head, but in spite of the dominance implied by their relative positions, his fingers were gentle as they curled in her hair. “That’s right,” he whispered, nudging his hips forward the tiniest bit. “You feel so damn good.”

  All she could do was hum around him. She’d spent so long wanting to touch him this way, and despairing of ever having the chance. All she wanted was to focus on him, make him groan her name.

  Make him come.

  She edged one hand closer to his leg and rubbed her thumb against the outside of his knee.

  He made a satisfied noise deep in his chest and curled his fingers tighter in her hair. “I’m going to do this to you. Maybe I’ll tie your hands to the headboard so you can’t move. I’ll take forever, just licking you. Touching you. Seeing how many times I can make you come.”

  Her eyes met his, and the hot look on his face combined with his words sent a violent shudder of need through her. What he talked about was the stuff of dreams, the kind of thing she’d think about while teasing herself with her own fingers.

  When he smiled this time, it was anything but shy or teasing. She saw heat in his gaze, and something a little dangerous. “So you like that, do you? The idea of being trapped while I tease you? I’ve heard rumors of the toys you bought from back East. Do you have one tucked away in your bedside table?”

  She shook her head as much as she could with the head of his cock close to the back of her throat. She’d never brought any of the antique toys home, but she’d go to the brothel and bring every single one of them home if he wanted.