I grab him by his waistband and jerk the button open then unzip him. His button-down shirt is tucked in, so I yank the tails out and unfasten the buttons not particularly carefully. None of them pop off, but it’s a close thing.
“Somebody’s eager.” He helps me by shrugging the shirt off over his shoulders, but then he can’t get his hands out through the buttoned-up cuffs. After some awkward struggling, I get the shirt the rest of the way off him and toss it to the floor then lick his torso from his navel to up between his nipples. He shivers.
“Is the water hot yet?” I ask him.
“I’m not sure I care.” But he turns to check the temperature, and apparently it’s all right, because he pulls the knob that redirects the water to the showerhead. A few seconds later the bathroom starts to steam up.
“If we want this really accurate,” I tell him, “we need to have loud music playing.”
“Fuck that. It’d take too long. I just want you naked.”
I’m okay with that plan. I unzip my jeans, but then he takes over, pulling them down my hips and leaving me standing in nothing but my underwear. Then he picks me up, puts me over his shoulder, and pulls open the shower curtain.
“Jesse! I’m not naked yet! And neither are you!”
He swats my ass, which is perfectly placed over his shoulder for his easy access. Then he grabs the waistband and pulls it down, leaving my panties hanging about mid-thigh.
“Mmmm, what have we here?” With me still dangling over his shoulder and the steam rolling into the bathroom, he slips two fingers between my thighs and finds the folds of my pussy. I’m already wet; his fingertips slide easily into the soft flesh.
“God.” It’s so precarious, hanging over his shoulder, only one arm holding me balanced there while his other hand teases me. But arousal is running hot up and down my body, and I hold still. The only move I make is to open my thighs as much as I can without disturbing my balance.
He swivels then, and I realize he’s turning so he can watch what he’s doing in the mirror. I want to cover my eyes at the thought of it, but I can’t see, anyway, so what does it matter?
“I like the look of that,” he says. “All pink and wet for me.”
He slides a finger inside and pumps it a few times, then withdraws it and squeezes my ass again. Setting me on my feet in the shower, he reaches around me to unfasten my bra, which is rapidly becoming drenched in the spray. He tosses it toward the towel rack then works on his own jeans, sliding them down and stepping out of them. He’s so hard in his cotton shorts I can see every detail of his erect cock—every vein, the ridge around the head, the small patch of wetness where he’s leaking pre-come. He sheds those, too, leaving them on the floor as he steps out of them and into the shower with me.
I’m so drenched by now—both with the water and with my own arousal—that his hands slide easily over my skin when he presses against me. He reaches up to jerk the shower curtain into place, which is good because there’s already water on the floor. My idea of afterplay doesn’t involve falling on wet tile and concussing myself, so I’m in favor of keeping the floor at least a little dry.
Before I can think too much about it, though, Jesse is going to his knees in front of me, burying his face between my legs. I let out a surprised squeak as he grabs my ass with both hands, pushing me closer to his mouth. His tongue strokes into my pussy, finding my clit. My arousal spikes so hard that for a minute I’m pretty sure I’m going to fall and concuss myself without ever having to step out of the shower.
His hair is plastered down to his head, water running over his eyes and nose, his mouth buried in my pussy, and I wonder how he can even breathe. Oxygen doesn’t seem to be a priority, though. His tongue stabs against me, rolling and teasing. I open my legs as much as I can, grabbing on to his hair for balance.
I’m trying to keep my voice down, but then I remember I don’t have to. We’re alone in the apartment. Maybe we’ll disturb a neighbor or two, but I don’t care. I don’t have to explain things to the neighbors like I’d have to explain them to Christopher. So I’m okay with them hearing me having incredible sex. They can just be jealous.
Jesse adds a finger, sliding it between my thighs and up inside me, and I let myself cry out, moaning as the tension inside me ratchets up to nearly unbearable levels. He knows just how to play me, even though we’ve only been together a few times. I can tell he’s paid really close attention.
When the tip of his finger bounces off my G-spot, I can’t hold it in anymore. My body convulses, nearly throwing me off my feet. His hold on me tightens, holding me steady as I pulse hard against his mouth. He keeps stabbing into me, finger and tongue at the same time, until I see stars, then beyond, then start jerking at his hair because if he doesn’t stop I am straight-up going to have a heart attack and die.
Laughing, he eases back and comes to his feet, kissing me immediately, letting me taste my musk on his tongue.
“I want inside you,” he says. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes. Of course.” I do. Completely. So I don’t even flinch when he lifts me from the floor and sets my back against the tile, wrapping his legs around him.
“Comfortable?” he asks, wiggling his hips between my thighs. His cock is a millimeter from sinking inside me; I tip my own hips trying to get it closer. Get it in.
“Not bad. Tile’s a little chilly.” I can feel it biting into my skin, where I’ll undoubtedly have perfect lines embedded for hours after I get out of the shower. The thought of it makes me that much more aroused. The fact I just came makes no difference at all; I’m more than ready to explode again.
He shifts close enough that I can put my arms around his neck. His mouth welds to mine, gentleness gone, just claiming me. Then he moves us, just a tiny bit, and he’s inside me, hard and deep.
I moan into his mouth at the sensation. It feels impossibly good—the hot water pouring over us, his cock inside me, pressing hard into my body, his firm hands holding me secure against the wall. He’s still for a moment, even his mouth quiet on mine. Then he slides his tongue along the seam of my lips and starts to fuck me into the wall.
God, it’s incredible. He catches me a bit off guard, and I instinctively grab his shoulders, nails digging in. His responding gasp indicates he likes it, so I don’t let go. Leaning forward a little so my head doesn’t hit the tile, I hang on and just ride.
The friction of him inside me has lit me up again, and I’m moving back up the big hill of the roller coaster, closer and closer, rising an inch at a time. His rhythm slows, but he thrusts harder, one deep, intense shove at a time, and then he lets go.
He moans into the bend of my shoulder, a grinding, deeply satisfied sound. I feel him pulsing inside me, and my own body clenches and grabs, taking its own pleasure again. My breath stops, and I’m pretty sure my heart does, too, just for a few seconds.
He bites my shoulder, then my neck, then nips along my jawline, gradually easing me down. My thighs protest as I straighten them, then shake, uncertain of holding my weight.
“You okay?” he says, noticing my wobbliness.
“Yeah, you just fucked the hell out of me.”
He chuckles, sounding smug. “Good.”
“And the water’s starting to get cold.” The temperature has dropped several vital degrees over the last few seconds. Surely he’s noticed, but then again the heat we’ve been generating between us is making up some of the difference.
He turns the shower off with his foot and kisses me some more, then reaches out to grab a towel from the shelf. He wraps it around me and picks me up again.
“Familiar?” he says with that lecherous grin.
I chuckle. “Very.”
Still soaking wet, he steps out of the tub with me in his arms. He kisses me again. “So, ma’am, are you safe from the deadly fire raging through your loins? I mean your apartment?”
I widen my eyes. “No, Mr. Fire Chief, sir. I don’t think I am. I think I’m going to need your protect
ion for the whole rest of the night.”
“Well, ma’am, I think that can be arranged.” He sets me on my feet, grabs a towel for himself, and wraps up.
“You’re the best firefighter ever,” I tell him as he tucks us into bed.
He strikes a pose, leaning on one elbow in the bed. “I’m glad to hear that. Because everybody knows those raging loin-fires aren’t going to put out themselves.”
He ducks his head under the covers and gets started kindling another raging loin-fire with his mouth. It’s going to be a long night, and that’s just the way I like it.
14
Maddy
Maddy
It’s interesting, being engaged to the fire chief, but I’m starting to get used to it. Sometimes I have to dress up and go to fundraisers and city events, like we’re important community pillars or something. Jesse’s busy, and so am I, but we still make sure there’s time for us to spend together, and to spend with Christopher. Somehow, Jesse even makes sure I have time to myself when I need to study.
Like tonight—I already told him I have a test coming up and some serious homework to do, so when I come home, he’s in the living room playing Legos with Christopher.
“Mommy!” Christopher runs to me and hugs me around the knees. “We makin’ Yeggos!”
“I see you are.” I just hope they all get picked up so I don’t step on one in the middle of the night.
Jesse smiles, getting to his feet to give me a hug and a kiss. “We’ll be busy with this for at least another hour,” he says. “This thing has a lot of pieces.” He gives me a wink, and I know right away that he arranged things that way so I’d have some peace and quiet for a while. “When we’re done, Christopher and I will make dinner, okay?”
“That sounds perfect.” I kiss him again, this time with more than a little gratitude. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you, hon.” One more kiss, this one a little deeper.
“Ew,” says Christopher. “Jesse—Yeggos.”
“I’m being summoned,” Jesse says, and has a seat again on the floor.
I watch them for a little while, enjoying it. They get along so well—I can’t believe how lucky I am to have that. Finally I head for the room in the back of the house that we set up as my office. It’s a nice house, and we picked it out together, which makes it even better.
My desk is neatly arranged, ready for me to pick up studying where I left off. A sunbeam slants in through the window, and Thor is stretched out on the windowsill, soaking up the sun. I stroke him, and he rolls a little to let me rub his belly. I can feel him purring.
From the other room, Christopher’s laughter drifts in, and I smile.
It’s absolutely perfect.
# # #
Thank you so much for reading Hot Damn! I hope you liked it. Keep reading Filthy next, the first book in the Spada Crime Family series!
The boss told me to stay away from his daughter. I married her instead.
I burned for Jessica from the moment I first locked eyes on her. One look at her body and all I could think about was what I could do to make her melt, how her lips would burn on my skin, the heat of her body. I was ready for her fire to consume me. All I wanted was a one night stand but the fire she lit inside me won't go out.
She wants out. Her mafia family is bad news, and I'll do anything to keep her.
I should stop playing with fire when her dad is threatening to burn me. The most powerful man in L.A. says I'm a dead man if I don't leave town, but what good is my life without her?
He thinks he can take my wife away? Like hell.
He'll have to go through me.
Filthy
1
Cain
The club stinks. It’s not that stale-beer, old-puke-with-a-side-of-piss smell you get in a regular bar either. No, this is a classy joint. Maybe not the best neighborhood in Los Angeles, but probably one of the top five. And it’s as classy as you can get with mob money rolling in hand over fist, which is to say, pretty damn classy. So it’s another kind of stink. It’s fresh blood and raw testosterone.
Most of it’s coming from me.
I still ache everywhere. The adrenaline’s still buzzing in my ears, and after the intensity in the fighting ring I think my dick would be rock hard even if I wasn’t here looking for a fuck. The ring’ll do that to you. It’s like your whole body revs, figuring you’ll be dead soon.
Which, frankly, I probably will be, after tonight’s performance. I fucked up. I know I fucked up. But I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad at my fucking boss. And I’m done.
I head for the long wooden bar at the back of the main room. It’s quality wood—oak, I think. Smooth, made by somebody who loved the work. It looks almost out of place, with the rest of this club so ultra-modern generic, shiny and machine cut. I run a hand across it. Shit, even that feels sexual. My dick’s so hard it’s going to have a zipper mark on it by the time I get it out of my pants.
Which hopefully will be soon. She should be here—she’s always here after the matches her dad runs—and I’m going to fuck her stupid if it’s the last thing I do.
Which, frankly, it probably will be. But that’s okay. One last fuck-you to Spada before he pulls my guts out. If I’m dead tomorrow, I might as well enjoy tonight.
“Tequila,” I tell the bartender. “Patrón.”
He gives me the eyebrow. “You got money?”
“Put it on my goddamn tab.”
“You won’t have a tab after Spada gets through with you.”
This pisses me off. Whatever happens between me and Spada is my business, not his. And I’m sick of it. All of it. Of Spada telling me what fights to lose, of Spada having my balls in a vise I can’t get out of. “Patrón,” I say again. “And keep it coming.”
He shrugs. He’ll get his money one way or another, I know. While he’s sorting out my shot, I take a look down the bar.
Oh yeah. She’s here all right. Jessica Spada is perched on a barstool about six down from mine, head tipped forward while she talks to the guy next to her. I don’t recognize him, but it doesn’t matter. Probably some third- or fourth-class Hollywood asshole. They’re a dime a dozen around here. Washed-up actors, singers, screenwriters. Everybody in LA comes here for something. He’ll be on his way soon. I’ll see to that.
The bartender sets the Patrón shot down in front of me, and I pick it up and toss it back. It burns down the back of my throat, burns more in the cut on my lip. It was a good match tonight, hardscrabble and intense. Or at least it would have been a good match if I hadn’t known I was supposed to throw it. And I tried. God knows I tried. Not my fault the asshole had a glass jaw. Spada should have thought about that.
Too late to worry about it now. I head down the bar to Jessica.
She’s fucking gorgeous. Has been since the day I first saw her, five years ago. She was barely legal then; now she’s all grown up. She’s not Jessie anymore; she’s Jessica. Ms. Spada to most people. The guys on either side of her are too close, look like they’re trying to stake claims on her. Well, they’re going to have to forget that shit. This woman is mine.
I slide up next to her, cock-blocking the asshole who’s trying to get her attention. “These guys giving you problems?”
She looks over her shoulder at me and then turns. Gives me a once-over with those blue eyes. A slight shift, and she’s facing me squarely. Fuck if it doesn’t suck the breath out of my lungs when she looks right at me. “Cain McAllister,” she says, and if I’d had any breath left, those last bits would have squeaked out to hear my name on her sultry tongue. The guys surrounding her look at each other and mutter a bit then decide maybe there’re easier pickings somewhere else. Somewhere I’m not. Good. They don’t want to fuck with me. It’s never a good idea.
She’s a beautiful woman, but it’s more than that. More than just those chiseled cheekbones and those big blue eyes and the way she strokes her tongue over her lower lip. More than just those soft, round tits that strain agains
t her sleeveless sheath just enough to make you think they might pop out if you look at them wrong. No, there’s an air about this woman that tells you that if you want to do more than just look, she’ll make you work for it.
I’m up for some work. Shit, compared to what I just went through in the ring, this should be a piece of cake.
Her gaze flicks downward. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was looking at my dick, but the angle’s wrong. Still, if she wants to look, she’s more than welcome. I know she’ll like what she sees. I’ve got more than enough to please a woman, and right now it’s so hard I could put a hole in the bar if I move the wrong way. Shit, it’s all I can do not to take her right here—bend her over the bar, tear that dress off her—
“I’m fine,” she says suddenly. I have to take a second to remind myself what we were talking about. Right. Social Niceties. That was it. I settle in, one hip against the bar. Jessica gives me another look. “You don’t look so hot though.”
“You should see the other guy.”
“I did see the other guy.” Her grin turns sultry. “Hope he didn’t bust anything important of yours.”
I laugh and deliberately cup my crotch. “Everything’s still there. Lucky for you.”
Her eyebrows go up. “Lucky for me? What exactly do you think’s going to be happening here, sir?”
I like the way she calls me “sir.” I also like that she knows who I am. That she saw the fight. Not so great that she saw me win it when I wasn’t supposed to, but that’s between me and her father, not between me and her. What’s between me and her is going to be hot, sweaty, filthy, and rough.
I scoot a little closer, still holding my dick, feeling blood pulse beneath my fingertips. “’Bout anything you want to happen, hon.”
Her smile turns sultry and she gives me that look again, scraping down my body but not quite going below the waist. Then she reaches up and runs a finger across my lip. Presses into the cut there. It hurts, and I can’t help but wince a little. Not because of the pain but because I didn’t expect that from her.
Hot as Sin (Contemporary Romance Box Set) Page 41