Tallulah Speed (Tallulah Cove Book 5)

by Casey Hagen

  His finger traced the line of skin along the edge of her panties, and she forgot to breathe.

  “Jeremy?”

  He took her mouth then, driving his point home when he rendered her helpless with his soft lips, his rough facial hair brushing against her simultaneously, the contrast exhilarating. He still tasted of the beer he had taken to his room. She’d never liked the stuff; tasting it on him, she wanted it.

  All of it.

  She buried her hands in his thick hair. Pulling him back just enough to see his shining green eyes, she nodded. “Stay here with me.”

  She’d meant for the night, right?

  She didn’t know anymore.

  The look in his eyes told her that he wondered the same. Unable to go there, not with her raging emotions, she bit down on his bottom lip, delighting in his rough growl.

  His large hands curled over her cheeks as he lifted her up. Her legs naturally wrapped around him. His mouth moved to her neck.

  Licking…

  Nibbling…

  Sucking at her fevered skin. So many sensations assaulting her from head to toe that her vision blurred, obscuring the bedroom door she focused on over his shoulder.

  She’d show him with her body what she didn’t dare say with words. She’d surrender herself to him, let him do his worst, and give him a chance to prove his worth.

  Sharp, stinging heat coursed through her.

  Nothing short of his best would obliterate the sense of betrayal that had settled inside her.

  Make her forget, but don’t fall.

  The minute Jeremy tasted her tears, he knew he’d do the one, even if it meant he would sacrifice himself to the other.

  The look of devastation on her face when he’d stepped in the room punched him right in the gut. Someone else had forced her to turn on her own. At least that’s how it felt to her, he was sure of it.

  Of course, she didn’t really turn on them, but for someone who loved so deeply, who protected those she held close, her hesitation over the idea of Luciano was akin to turning on her own and had cut her deeply.

  He knew what he was doing when he walked through her door. He knew where it would likely take them, and he wanted it. When he walked away, when he returned to his life, he’d take this with him.

  He hoped for it to be a fond memory but wondered if, by crossing the line, he walked the road to a lifetime of torment.

  He pinned her to the wall right next to her fireplace.

  Hard.

  So hard a vase on the mantel bobbled.

  Anger at the people around her, the unknown, and at his mother for making him fear reaching for more with a woman frustrated him. Need fueled his rough movements. “Sorry,” he muttered when she gasped with the force of it.

  She yanked his face to hers, capturing his gaze and fueling his racing blood with her harshness. “Don’t be. I can take it. I won’t break.” She kissed his mouth, then traced his upper lip with her tongue. “I’ll never break. Make me feel, Jeremy,” she whispered against his mouth.

  Feel…yeah, he would make her feel.

  They were about to do this all backwards, and not gracefully.

  He kissed her, sucked her tongue into his mouth, and devoured. He wanted to mark her body and soul. He wanted to see tomorrow that she had to use makeup to cover the evidence of his hunger.

  Years from now, long after he returned home to his solitary existence, safe, where a woman couldn’t hollow him out the way his mother had his father, he wanted to know that the Dame was somewhere—maybe with a boyfriend, a husband, whatever—and she still remembered his kiss, his claiming of her body.

  He wanted her to measure every kiss after him, against his.

  He wanted her to remember that, at one time, they had been.

  Whimpers and moans fueled him. Normally, he’d focus on foreplay. Maybe later. Right now, he needed her wet heat. He needed to bury himself in her and make her crazy. He needed to feel that building of release all the way to his spine as every wet slide brought him closer to the brink.

  He needed to mark, and to be marked.

  He ran a finger along the edge of her panties, seeking. He found her wet, warm and, thank God, ready. Shoving his jeans down, just enough for access, he pushed aside the scrap of fabric between her thighs and lowered her onto him as he thrust up into her.

  She let out a groan and shivered in his arms, letting him know he had done it just right.

  His gaze locked on hers, his teeth clenched, his jaw flexed. A growl rose in his throat, and his nostrils flared as he fought the urge to take, take, and take some more.

  She gently cupped his face with her hands, her expression softening, a smile flitting over her lips. “Wherever you want to go, Jeremy, take me with you.”

  She knew he battled his urge. She knew and she welcomed all of him, no matter how raw his need.

  She should be scared. He was. Something animal-like clawed inside him, wanting out.

  “I need you. I need this. Promise me, if it’s too much, if I scare you, you’ll speak up.” The words were ragged from his harsh breathing. He leaned his forehead to hers, waiting for her agreement.

  “I promise. Now do it,” she whispered.

  He leaned away from her and nodded at the permission he saw in her eyes. Pinning her to the wall with his hips, buried deep inside her with her inner muscles clamped on him tight, he gripped the middle of her tank top with both fists and ripped it right down the middle in one violent yank.

  Her cool eyes never lost contact with his as her back bowed with the force. God, her breasts, high and round, her dark nipples tilted up, puckered tight. He’d never seen any more beautiful.

  He braced his forearm across her collarbone, holding her there. Cupping her warm breast, he sucked her nipple into his mouth, licking, sucking, tasting her. The whole time memorizing each experience, the way she squirmed and moaned, the rapid breathing when he slid his hand between their bodies and teased her in the most sensitive place possible.

  He pulled his forearm away, regretting the redness he left behind, but the feral smile on her full lips told him she had loved being pinned that way.

  He watched her as he continued his assault with his other hand, but still he did not move his hips. He stayed buried inside, feeling every bit of what his fingers parting her, playing with her, was doing to her by the way her muscles spasmed around him.

  When her eyes went hazy, he moved. He locked both hands on her round ass and pumped into her, a sheen of sweat covering his skin and hers. She cried out and gripped the edge of the mantel, pushing herself up off of him as though it was too much, but she didn’t tell him to stop, so he didn’t.

  She sank her teeth into his shoulder when her orgasm tore through her, squeezing him impossibly tight. He slowed his assault. He lengthened his strokes, pulling almost all the way out and then burying himself again as she whimpered. Her body slumped, and her cheek pressed to his shoulder.

  He pulled away from the wall, and her arms wrapped around his neck where she had tucked her face. He leaned over the bed, and those hands slid away as she lay down and he slid out of her.

  Hooking his fingers in the edge of her panties, he dragged them over her legs, giving himself one hell of a view while he discarded his jeans.

  His eyes roamed over her, from the arches of her pretty feet, up her shapely calves, and hell, those long, gently rounded thighs. He’d seen bits and pieces, but put the whole picture together, especially the view between those thighs, and he was a man lost.

  She watched him as he threw his jeans off to the side. Her eyes widened when she saw him, really saw him for the first time.

  Umm…”

  “None of that. I was already inside you, and you loved it.”

  “Good point.”

  He dropped to his knees and yanked her legs until he could drape her knees over his shoulders, opening her to his gaze, to his tongue.

  “Are you sore?” he asked.

  She shook her head and

bit her lip.

  “Good… but you will be tomorrow,” he said. He was big. There was no getting around it. Usually women were apprehensive but, lucky for him, the Dame hadn’t had time to see or think before he took her. He lowered his mouth and took a taste. He started with a slow lick over the center of her before sinking his tongue deeper and starting a rhythm that drove her out of her mind.

  She cried…real tears.

  She locked her fists on handfuls of the sheet.

  Her back bowed.

  Her lungs heaved.

  He watched it all while continuing his assault on her, his fingers digging into her smooth thighs.

  She abandoned those sheets, fisted his hair, and yanked his head hard, yanked it to her, desperate.

  He’d already felt her come on him. Now she wanted to taste it. He buried three fingers inside her and curled upward. His other hand stretched up and brushed back and forth over her nipple.

  The three sensations combined sent her out of her ever-loving mind. She hit her pillow and slapped her hand against her headboard over and over while tears streamed down her temples and disappeared into her hair.

  When her body slackened, he slowed his assault, abandoned her nipple, slowed his tongue, and took back his fingers. With one last kiss to the center of her, he joined her on the bed. He flipped her over, grasped her wrists, and flattened her palms against the headboard.

  “I couldn’t possibly have another orgasm. I just can’t,” she mumbled into her pillow.

  He bent his face to her ear. “You can, and you will,” he growled.

  He knelt between her spread legs, taking in the view of her round ass, the way her lower back dipped, the curve of her delicate spine.

  On display…

  For him.

  As he slid into her, she groaned, her hair clinging to her sweat-slicked skin.

  He wrapped his hand around her cascading hair, turned her head so he could see the side of her flushed face, and curled his other over her shoulder as he thrust into her once, twice, her heart-shaped ass bared to him.

  Her lips parted, and she squeezed her eyes shut. He increased his rhythm, finally seeking what he had resisted from the start. He let that sensation build until he leaned forward, biting into the back of her shoulder much the way she did him.

  She reared her head despite how he held her and punched the headboard, tightening on him again, but this time he was with her. He let go of her hair and lay on top of her, then wrapped his arm under her chest and held her close, his face buried in her hair as he filled her with everything he had.

  He’d never forget this.

  Neither would she.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Deception

  VALENTINA WOKE UP ALONE. It was stupid to care, but it hurt. She sensed him closing himself off from her as she snuggled into him, falling asleep while he played with her hair.

  She wanted to wake up curled in his arms. It may be her only chance. She had no room for a man, and something about him screamed that he had no interest in forever.

  They barely knew each other. She knew he had a sister and a successful business, but that was it. She didn’t know his favorite food, his favorite color, if he liked sports, or his hobbies beyond cars.

  Where were his parents? Other family?

  When it came down to it, because of the situation, he knew a hell of a lot more about her than she did him. She didn’t see him trying to take “them” any further.

  Plus, they had been thrown together by shit circumstances.

  Not the best recipe for a relationship.

  Maybe it was best that he’d ducked out. No use getting a taste of something she knew she could never have, and she would never spend her days waking up to Jeremy beside her.

  She rolled over and, holy crap, ouch! She may not have woken up with him there, but her body practically screamed with the evidence of their night together.

  She closed her eyes, and the view of his muscular chest, the light sprinkling of hair, the hard stomach, and those unbuttoned jeans flashed in her mind. Then there was the view of him standing naked beside her bed…

  She swallowed hard.

  No other man would ever measure up.

  And she would spend her lifetime measuring.

  What had she done?

  She forced herself out of bed and into the shower. She was tempted to stand under the spray indefinitely, but that seemed like it would be too much like hiding, so she rushed through the job. Twenty minutes later, with her damp hair hanging in curls, dressed in a tank top and jeans, she went downstairs looking for food and answers.

  Not answers from Jeremy about why he’d left, but answers in the mystery of who was trying to hurt her and why. She’d start with the boxes of personal effects from her father’s office.

  She’d kept all of the records having to do with the businesses in her office. Actually, that was about all she had in the office now since she traveled around too much to have many personal items herself.

  Camille had packed up her father’s personal things for her, and she’d stored the items in Jeremy’s room.

  Well, damn.

  She found Dante in the kitchen having a cup of coffee, a Denver omelet on his plate. Mike and Sol sat by the window, their breakfast finished. Camille stood at the sink, washing dishes. Valentina hopped up next to Dante, who slanted her a knowing look.

  “Good morning, Dante,” Valentina said with a smile. “Good morning to you too, Miss Camille.”

  “Good morning, my dear. Here, to get you going.” Camille set a cup of steaming hot black coffee before her.

  Valentina inhaled and sighed. Troubles later, but for right now, this. This and the third degree brewing inside the man sitting next to her.

  “Are you hungry?” Camille asked.

  “Starving,” Valentina said too eagerly and felt the intent stare from Dante.

  “Well, you enjoy your coffee, and I’ll fix you right up before I head to the market.” Camille went on to make an omelet, and within minutes, Valentina was digging into some deliciousness of her own.

  “I’m headed out. You make sure you eat every bite. You’re getting too thin. Now that you’re finishing up with modeling, we need to round out some of those curves and get you a husband and some babies for me to spoil.”

  “Oh God, Miss Camille, I don’t know about all that. They both require time I don’t have right now. You know, I thought I heard Luciano talking about a woman he had started seeing.”

  Camille’s eyes narrowed, and she smiled. “Did you now? I might just have to stop and have a chat with my boy since he didn’t see fit to mention her last night.”

  The same old banter. Normally, she would have gotten immense pleasure throwing Luciano under the bus. She would have texted him right after to tell him, too. This time, though, after the thoughts that had run through her head last night, no, she wouldn’t text him.

  Camille left, leaving Valentina and Dante alone, but for the hired protection minding their own business, or at least making it appear as though they were.

  “So, how was last night?” Dante said.

  “The dinner was stressful.”

  “Nice try. And how was your ride on Jeremy?”

  Valentina choked on her bite of eggs and tried washing them down with her coffee, which left her coughing and sputtering.

  “Way to be tactful. How did you know?” she said.

  “Other than hearing you, you mean?”

  “Ack!”

  “Then, of course, I saw you this morning when I went in to give you these.” He pulled out her key to the garage. “I guess you left them on the counter last night. I spotted them this morning. You need to be more careful… if anyone had gotten their hands on these, Jeremy would be back to square one with the cars.”

  “What time was that?” Valentina said.

  “Early. I would say about five a.m.”

  She didn’t look at him. “Was Jeremy still in bed with me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, at least that’s something.”

  He nudged her and smiled. “Worried he ducked out last night?”

  She shrugged and kept eating. Dante saw too much, and if she made this a big deal, he’d know she was doing some serious falling for the guy in a short amount of time.

  Jeremy chose that moment to show up in the kitchen.

  Valentina might have choked again. She quickly covered it with a light cough.

  “Good morning, Jeremy,” Dante said.

  “Morning. Is there more coffee?” he said while scratching his chest over his blue t-shirt.

  “Sure, help yourself,” Dante said with a nod.

  Valentina watched Jeremy as he turned his back to them, grabbed a cup, and poured himself some coffee. Dante elbowed her.

  God, he was such a child sometimes.

  When she turned to him, he raised his eyebrows, smirked, and rubbed the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got a little drool…” he whispered.

  She elbowed him hard. He slid off his chair to get away from her.

  After he circled around the back of her, he stopped and crouched to her ear. “You have one hell of a bite mark on that shoulder, you hussy,” he said, then bolted away.

  She fought a smile and looked over her shoulder where Mike and Sol were looking at her, specifically at her shoulder. Mike just raised a brow, grabbed the paper, and continued reading.

  Valentina took the keys to the garage and shoved them into her pocket. When she looked up, Jeremy’s eyes were on her.

  “Good morning, Dame.”

  “Good morning, Ass.”

  He lifted a brow, surprise written all over his face. With a shake of his head, he sauntered over to her and stopped when her bent knee came into contact with his thigh.

  “What was that for?”

  She hadn’t planned on saying anything. They both knew what this was. Temporary. And here she was, acting like a petulant child because she hadn’t gotten her way.

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