by Madison Faye
I grin wider, my hands tightening on his. "Thank you."
He only nods, and from the low light from the bathroom, I can see his eyes locked right on me with something between fierceness and hunger in that gaze. It makes me tremble slightly.
He moves closer to me on the bed, his weight shifting the mattress and making my pulse spike through me. I can feel the heat of his breath, the feel of him so close to me, and I take a deep, shaky breath. He moves even closer, and when his hand slides up my arm, I shiver. His fingers push through my hair, brushing it from my face as he moves a mere few inches away from me. The hand cups my jaw, and when I feel the power and possessiveness of that touch, something ignites inside of me.
"Slow," he says quietly.
"Slow," I whisper, nodding.
"Kiss me."
I shiver at the way he growls it. Fuck that's hot. There's an edge to his voice I haven't heard yet — something demanding and animalistic that sparks something in me.
"Kiss. Me," he growls again when I still haven't moved.
I take a shaky breath, and I lean forward. I press my lips to his, and for a moment, the whole world goes still around me, before I slowly pull back, my whole body reeling.
"Not like that,” Dylan growls, his gaze so fierce as his eyes blaze into mine. His hand still cups my jaw, and I tremble as I feel his thumb trace lightly across my cheek. "Kiss me for real."
"I—"
"Don't kiss me like a little girl, kiss me like a woman."
This time, it's him that pulls me in, crushing his lips to mine. And this time, it's not a peck.
…Not even close.
The room melts around me as I sink into his lips and the single hottest, wildest kiss of my entire life. His lips sear to mine, and when he growls into me, it sends a teasing shiver through my entire body. And before I know it, I'm moving into him — clutching him harder and feeling his big, hard, muscled body press against me. His tongue teases my lips, and I open them for him, letting him inside. He finds mine, and they tease together, his masculine growls sending tremors through me as I moan into his mouth.
I'm falling — literally falling backwards onto the bed as he moves on top of me. My blood runs hot through my veins, and my skin feels like it's on fire as he eases over me. I'm panting for air, kissing him as hard as I can and moaning into his lips as our tongues swirl together.
And just like that, the fear melts away. For just a frozen moment while we kiss, all the horribleness of everything around me fades away, until I'm just lost in the moment with him. His body grinds into mine, pushing me into the mattress and making my pulse hammer through my veins. My legs slip apart, the sleep shorts I'm wearing pressing tight between my legs and making my head swim as he moves between my thighs.
And I can feel him.
Him.
I might not have a ton — or any, really — experience, but I do know what I'm feeling that's so hard and throbbing hot between his legs.
And I know that it's huge.
I moan into him, arching my back and pulling him into me as the heat of it all washes over me. I forget about the whole situation that's brought us here, and about the camera, and Nico, and all of it. Because right here, it's just him and me, and the world's hottest kiss.
But suddenly, he's pulling back — pulling away from me and groaning as his face tightens.
"Fuck," he groans, taking a deep breath and shaking his head as he sits back from me.
"What?" My face falls. "Did I do something wr—"
"God no," he growls, and as his hand cups my face and as his body moves back to mine, I think he's about to kiss me all over again, when he stops himself short.
Dylan takes a deep, steady breath.
"I didn't listen to my own words," he growls.
I bite my lip between my teeth. "About going slow?"
"Yes."
"You can go faster," I whisper, the teasing heat from the kiss still burning through me.
Dylan shakes his head. "No, I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I won’t be able to slow down until I've taken everything," he hisses fiercely.
"Oh."
His eyes flash blue fire in the semi-darkness of the room. That look sends a tremor through me as we both freeze, breathing heavily in the stillness.
He looks away. "I should go."
A part of me crumbles. A big, big part of me never wants him to go. And I know it's silly, and so fucked up given our circumstances, but he's the one thing in this place I feel I can hang on to that's good.
"Wait." My hand grabs his, holding on tight like I'm afraid if I let go he'll never come back.
"What about—"
"Nico said we don't shoot for a couple of days," he says quietly. "I'll—"
He takes a deep breath, and before I know it, he’s leaning in, pulling me close, and crushing his lips to mine all over again. He pulls back, leaving me breathless and spinning.
"I'll be back, angel," he growls. "I'll always be back for you."
7
Rose
I'm reading the second Harry Potter book when I hear the knock on the door to the room. I've read the book before, twice, but it's the only book in here, and the only thing I can possibly fill the time with. The knock comes again, and I wrinkle my brow as I clear my throat.
"Uh, come in?"
The knock is weird, because it's odd that anyone who knows I'm here would be asking permission to enter what is really a cell for me.
The door opens, and when the big, brooding, muscular man with the gorgeous dark eyes steps in, I swallow thickly and back away. He's insanely good looking, but there's this air of danger and roughness to him that has my warning bells going off inside my head. I drop the book and back away to the far side of the room, my back against the window as his huge frame steps into the room.
He looks at me, those eyes piercing right through me, and for a second, I see a flash of anger cross his face, before it fades. He glances around the room and nods before he pokes his head back out.
"All set, ma'am."
"Thank you," a softly feminine and strongly confident voice answers from the hallway. The big guy looks at me once again, giving a curt nod before he moves out of the room, and she steps in.
"It's Rose, right?"
She's got fiery red hair that frames her absolutely perfectly gorgeous face. The curls and tangles fall around her sharp, intense green eyes and tumble across her shoulders, and her perfect, full lips pull back in a very kind, very genuine smile.
I nod quickly. "Yes," I say quietly.
The woman, who's probably only a few years older than me, smiles again before she glances out the door, nods, and steps inside my room. She closes the door behind her.
"How are you doing, hon?" Her face falls, her eyes full of concern and sadness as she steps towards me.
I'm not sure how to answer, mostly because I'm not sure who she is. After all, she did just waltz right into my locked and guarded room. But she must sense my hesitation because she smiles warmly at me again.
"Okay, I'll start with what you don't want to hear." She holds her hand out, a big sparkling diamond glittering in a huge, gaudy ring.
"Quinn Moretti."
I tense up. Moretti. Yeah, that's how she waltzed right in. That's why the man who I assume now is her personal bodyguard checked my room first.
…That's why I clam up, immediately wondering what sort of trick this is.
But she quickly shakes her head as she takes a furtive step towards me. "No, Rose, it's not like that," she says quickly. "I'm not…" She sighs, her lips going tight. "I'm Gino's…" Her brow furrows, and she swallows thickly, like there's a bad taste in her mouth.
"I'm Gino's wife," she finally spits out.
I just nod.
"I know that makes you not trust me at all, and probably hate me by association, but you have to know, I'm not…" She glances around, looking back at the door before she steps closer, her voice lowering.
I look away, and I'm still not sure if I can trust her or not, but I also figure, what do I possibly have to lose by just being honest in my doubt?
"Why would you want to do that?"
She shakes her head. "You mean besides that this is disgusting, and wrong on every level, and besides that the Morettis are all sick pieces of shit?"
I blink in shock.
"I want to help you, Rose," she says quietly. "Because I'm just as much a prisoner as you, trust me," she hisses, her eyes flashing.
"No offense," I spit. "But you don't exactly look like a prisoner."
"Oh no?" She holds a hand up, the big glittering rock sending light across my face. "Trust me, I am." She sighs, her shoulders slumping a little. "But, I know it's not quite the same as you. Not even close, really. I might not have much of it, but I do have some power, and trust me when I say whatever I have, I'm going to use to help you out of this. Because this whole thing?" She shakes her head fiercely. "This is crossing a line, even for Nico."
She looks at me sadly, and before I know it, she's putting her arms around me and hugging me close.
"I'm so sorry this is happening to you," she whispers, before she pulls back and glances around my small little room.
"Okay, first thing's first, we're getting you an upgrade. I know it's a small thing, but I'm working on the rest of it. Just trust me, okay?"
And for some reason, I do.
Quinn turns and yanks the door open.
"You two," she barks at the two guys in suits holding guns who've been guarding my door. "Get the old presidential suite upstairs ready for her. She'll be moving there immediately."
The two of them glance at each other nervously.
"Uh, Miss Moretti—"
"Missus," Quinn growls, and the man pales and nods quickly.
"Of course, Mrs. Moretti. It's just that Nico told us not to move—"
"And Nico reports to my husband, doesn't he? Which means you two report to him as well."
They glance at each other again before nodding quickly. Quinn smiles.
"I'm so glad we sorted that out. Please make sure the room is set up immediately."
The two of them scamper off, and Quinn sends a quick glance to her bodyguard who gives her just the smallest flash of a grin before hiding it back behind his scowl.
But I catch it.
Quinn steps back into the room and closes the door.
"Okay, anything to pack?"
I snort. "Uh, not much. I just packed a few things when they came to get me."
She scowls, shaking her head. "Sick bastards."
I sit on the edge of the small bed.
"Dylan seems nice."
She smiles, leaning against the wall and nodding.
"He's one of the good ones," she says quietly.
"Yeah, he is."
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and I quickly clamp them shut. But Quinn only raises a brow for a second before she brushes it aside.
"It's also fucked up that they've forced him into this too."
"Do you know him?"
I say it probably way too eagerly, but if she catches anything, Quinn doesn't let on.
"Only a little. He's good friends with Rom—" She smiles quickly, her face going red. "He's friends with my bodyguard. They were in the Marines together, along with Gray, who also works for Gino."
"I didn't know that."
She just smiles.
"So, what did he do? I mean, why is he being forced to do this?"
Quinn laughs. "Well, you mean besides his reputation?"
I frown and her brow goes up.
"Wait, you haven’t heard that part?"
"No?"
She rolls her eyes. "Okay, he's being pushed into this because they think he fucked up. Some money went missing, and one of Gino's guys got shot, and they're blaming him. But the reason they've stuck him in a porn with you?"
She arches a brow at me and I shake my head.
"Okay, you're the virgin, if what I've heard is true."
I nod quietly and she shakes her head.
"I'm so sorry," she whispers. "But Dylan they've got for another reason."
"Which is?"
Quinn shrugs. "Apparently, he's huge."
I frown. "What do you—"
"As in, he's got a big dick."
My face goes bright red as my lip catches between my teeth.
"Like, really big, I guess. Which is I guess why some sick fucks would pay to watch him take your virginity on camera."
I swallow thickly, my face burning hot as I remember last night. My mind flashes back to that mind-blowing, body-shaking kiss, and the big, hot bulge I felt pressing into me.
Quinn waves her hands, her face concerned. "Oh, but hon, that's not going to happen, okay?"
She's misreading the look on my face. She thinks it's fear, or horror that's making my cheeks bright red and taking away my ability to speak.
She's wrong.
It's heat. It's hot, tempting, illicit, captivating heat, and a primal desire.
It's curiosity.
Because I know what I felt in that kiss was unlike anything I've ever felt before. I certainly know what I felt throbbing against my leg was nothing I've ever felt. And I definitely know that I want to feel it again.
There's a knock on the door before it swings open.
"Mrs. Moretti?" The guard stammers. "The, uh, the room is ready."
"Good," she says sharply, turning to wink conspiratorially at me. I stand, picking up my small bag of things and following her out to the hallway.
"They'll show you up to the new rooms." She nods at the two guards before she hugs me close.
"I'm sorry I can't do more right now," she whispers. "But I'm working on it."
"Thank you," I say quietly.
She hugs me again.
"I'll make sure Dylan knows where your new room is," she whispers quickly. She pulls back, winks, and turns to leave. I turn and start to follow the two guards to the elevator, and I'm turning back to see if I can wave goodbye to her, but she's already moving down the hallway with her bodyguard.
…Whose hand is firmly planted on the small of her back.
Well that's interesting.
8
Dylan
"Sorry, should've brought beer or something."
I grin, leaning back against the balcony railing and shrugging at Roman.
"Nah, it's fine. If I get real hard up, I'll bet the old bar in this place probably has a couple bottles still buried somewhere."
My buddy chuckles lowly, shaking his head.
"So what brings you here?" I grin. "You want an autograph before I get all screen-famous? I'm selling signed glamor shots of my dick if you want one. Ten bucks."
Roman rolls his eyes as he brings a cigar out of his jacket pocket. "Don't be an asshole."
"Can't really help it."
"You could try."
I laugh as my friend chuckles, clipping the end of his cigar as he puts it in his mouth. He pulls out a lighter, letting the end glow as he puffs.
"I'd offer, but…"
I make a face. "Nah, I'm good." I turn and glance out over the dry heat of Vegas, which always looks fucking weird in the daylight. I'm also just so fucking tired of this town, with all its fake glitz and glamor.
I nod at him. "Really though, what brings you here?"
"Quinn wanted to see Rose."
I clear my throat. "You mean Mrs. Moretti wanted to see Rose, right?"
His face darkens, and he quickly shrugs. "Right, that's what I meant."
"I'm sure it is."
He glares at me. "What?"
"Nothing, man. I just think you're walking a dangerous fucking road there."
"I'm not walking any road," he growls, puffing on his cigar furiously.
"With
Mrs. Moretti."
"Exactly."
"The girl whose husband — recent husband at that — is Gino fucking Moretti."
"It's my job to follow her around and keep an eye on her."
"Oh, and I'm sure you do keep an eye on her."
"Watch it," he growls. "And worry about yourself."
I bark out a laugh. "Yeah, trying to." I blow air out through my teeth.
"That Rose is pretty nice. I met her just now."
"Yeah," I say quietly, my face hardening. "Yeah, she is."
"Cute too."
I just nod.
"And sweet."
"Too sweet for this shit, that's for sure," I hiss.
"Well, that's what they're looking for, right? I mean that's what's going to sell porn."
"It's fucked up," I snarl.
"Life is fucked up, man," Roman growls. "You and I both know that all too well. All I can say is, do what you need to do. Honestly, this is light compared to what they could do to you. And yes, I obviously know you had nothing to do with the heist, brother. And I also think Vinny was a shady fucking dude. But Gino and Nico could still be cutting your head off in the desert."
I scowl.
"It's just a fuckin' movie, man. I know it's shitty, but just do what needs to be done. Go in there, do what you have to do for the camera. Shit, it's just sex, right?"
"It's not right," I hiss my muscles tensing at the thought of what they want me to do to Rose. And God help me, I do want to do that to her. Fuck, spreading her legs and feeling her fingers rake down my back, her moans slipping through my ears as I bury my cock to the hilt inside of her is all I've been thinking about. But not like this. Not for them.
Roman shrugs. "She'll get over it."
I snap.
"Fuck you!" I snarl, lunging at my friend and grabbing him by the collar. I shove him back, knocking the cigar from his mouth and baring my teeth at him like some sort of wild animal.
"Fuck—"
He's grinning, and slowly, the steam evaporates, and I back away.
Roman shakes his head.
"Knew it."
"Knew what," I spit, stepping away.
"Your fucking savior complex."
"I don't have a savior complex."
"The fuck you don't. Dylan, you want to save her, because you see something broken in her."