Smokey

Chapter Sixteen

Alexandra

There’s a scream echoing inside my head. A desperate cry filled with protest — I won’t do it, I won’t, I can’t — yet it knows that no matter how desperate, its protests mean nothing compared to the desire that sets my heart on fire.

Because I’m only five steps down the hallway before I turn around and face the man who’s holding my bra, the man whose taste is still on my lips, and see he’s reaching for me, too.

I hate that I want it, but I can’t fight it.

I grab him by the wrist. Push him against the wall.

“You’re a fucking awful bastard and I fucking hate you so much.”

“Feeling’s mutual, princess..”

“That lipstick on you… it isn’t enough.”

“It was your work. Can’t help it you did a shoddy job.”

“Well, I’m going to fix it, asshole,” I say. I pull him toward one of the guest bedrooms, though every ounce of common sense inside me is screaming ‘Stop.’ I pull him inside. The door shuts with a slam and I shove him back against the wood. “The lipstick work, it sucked…”

“And you want to fix your sucky work by…?”

“By sucking the arrogance right out of you.”

His lips twist into a smirk that makes my blood boil. ”You think you”re up for the challenge?”

I slam my body against his. ”Oh, I don”t think, Dixon. I know.”

My hands roam over his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt, nails scraping enough to leave a trail of fiery need.

He grasps my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.

”Prove it,” he growls before crashing his lips onto mine.

The kiss is brutal, punishing almost, as we”re each trying to prove something to the other, but it feels so alarmingly right. It”s a battle of wills in every brush of lips, every clash of tongues. It’s a battle that I need to win.

Because I cannot let this unrepentant asshole beat me.

I’ll suck him into submission if I have to.

I reach down to his belt and tug hard. ”Time to find out if I really was right about your nickname, Lars.”

“You mean ‘Bison’? It’s like that old adage: under promise, over deliver.”

His voice is a mocking growl that makes me want to let go of his jeans and punch him right in the face.

“If this gives you a heart attack, I’ll be so damn happy.”

I pull apart the buttoned flap of his jeans and yank the zipper down.

Beneath the fabric of his boxers, enough of him is visible that even I am forced to admit that he may not be entirely full of shit.

I reach for his cock, feel the heat, the thickness, through the fabric.

He seizes my hand and pulls it away, while his other hand cups my chin and lifts it.

“You can’t just jump to the main event like that. You want it, you have to work for it.”

His lips meet mine with all the force of hate that two people who want to ruin each other’s lives can bring. He tastes like whiskey, like smoke, like sin, like shame — and I can’t get enough.

His hands are suddenly everywhere, leaving trails of heat in their wake — mapping out the territory he seems determined to claim. One hand slips under my shirt, fingers branding my skin. It’s a provocation, a dare for me to push him away or pull him closer.

I grab his hair and tug just hard enough to guide his lips back to mine and make him groan into my mouth.

”You want me to work for it?” I murmur against his lips. ”Then you better be worth the effort, Dixon. Prove it to me.”

There”s a challenge in my eyes that I know he can”t resist. He spins us, pressing me against the door now. He pulls my shirt over my head with a speed that leaves me breathless. His hands caress my tits, callouses gliding gently against my nipples, his fingertips pinching them — hard enough to make me gasp and glare at him.

“Fuck you, you tit-twisting piece of shit.”

He chuckles. Then, without warning, he turns me around again and drops to his knees behind me.

“Let me show you what ‘proving it’ means, princess.”

He grabs my pants, pulls, until they and my panties are around my ankles. A rough hand pushes me forward, while a kiss, and then another, and another, touches me from behind.

His lips trace a path that climbs upward, igniting a trail of fire on my skin, until they find their destination. I make a noise, something between a growl and a moan, and my fingers dig for purchase on the door, gripping it as if it were my lifeline.

”Fuck you,” I hiss through clenched teeth as he looks up at me with those piercing eyes, his tongue doing wicked, incredible things that make me want to punch him in the face.

”That”s the point, Alexandra,” he replies confidently. “That work you did with the lipstick? So fucking shoddy. Someone has to make those people out there believe we actually fucked. It’s up to me to save your ass. And taste it.” He dives back in with a fervor that leaves no room for doubt. “Now, scream for me. Let me hear it. Make those motherfuckers out there hear just how much you love my tongue.”

I grit my teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction. ”You son of a bitch.”

”You”re so fucking wet for me,” he whispers, sending a shiver down my spine. A flutter of his tongue makes me gasp and pound my fist against the door. Then again, and I shiver. ”I know you’ll cave eventually. Can’t wait to hear you break for me, princess.” His words are like lighter fluid on the fire raging inside of me.

”Never. You fucking arrogant prick. I despise you.”

A finger enters me, finds a spot that makes me forget my name. My resolve crumbles like a house of cards in a hurricane, and the walls I”ve built around myself for years shake against the earthquake force of the orgasm inside me.

I can’t do this.

I can’t let him beat me.

Gritting my teeth, I force myself away from the door. At first, Dixon chuckles and grabs my hips, pushing me back into place. “Just shut your mouth and enjoy what I’m about to give you.”

With all my strength, I turn around and grab him by the chin.

“Lie back, you bastard. I’ll show you what it’s like to break.”

When he doesn’t, I slap him. Hard.

“Well, when you ask nice like that, how can I say no?”

“Fuck you.” I hit him again. “Lie back and let me suck your fucking cock, you goddamn piece of shit.”

He laughs, but he lies back. “Couldn’t wait for it, huh?”

I climb atop him, straddling my pussy over his face while my hands free his cock and guide it toward my mouth.

“I’m going to show you what I can do, and I bet I can make you come first.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No, it’s a statement of fact, you idiot.”

Adrenaline pulses through my veins as I take him in my mouth, dragging my tongue across the head of his cock and savoring the taste of him. His breath hitches for a moment, and I know I have the upper hand, however briefly. I grind myself against his face in retaliation, ready to prove a point. God, I hate him. But his cock feels so good in my mouth, so thick. I wrap my hand around the base, squeezing just enough to elicit a moan from him.

Take that, Dixon, you asshole.

I swallow him deeper into my mouth, letting my tongue swirl around his shaft as my hand works the base of his cock in time with my lips. I can feel him twitching already, and it only fuels the fire inside me to win this goddamn bet, to be the one to make him come first.

”Fuck,” he groans. ”You”re good at this.”

”Shut up and let me work. Or put your fucking tongue to work at something useful and eat my fucking pussy,” I mumble against his length, biting down just enough to rile him up even more. His fingers dig into my hips, leaving marks I know will be there come morning, but I don”t care. All I can think about is reducing this cocky bastard to a quivering mess beneath me.

His breathing picks up speed, and I know I”m about to get what I want.

But then his tongue does something in concert with his fingers that makes my back stiffen, my mouth and tongue freeze around his throbbing cock, and my eyes slam shut.

A moan erupts from inside me, and I teeter on the edge while the cock of the man that I hate sits deep in my throat.

I shake my head. Focus.

I have to beat him.

Even though my legs are tingling, my hips are pulsing, I have to win and make his hard, pulsing cock erupt with come in my mouth. He can’t win.

I swallow him, filling my throat until I gag. A moan — heated, lustful — erupts from Dixon’s mouth and his movements become more desperate, his tongue and fingers relentless. But I can feel his control slipping. His hips buck into my mouth; his breaths ragged; his groans guttural — this is it.

”Yeah, fuck you, you asshole,” I gasp. I stroke his cock in rapid, firm strokes, like I want to squeeze every drop out of it. ”Still think you”re going to make me come first?”

I can taste him on the edge of my tongue — the salty prelude to victory.

His body tenses beneath me, muscles coiling like springs wound too tight.

“Fuck you,” Dixon gasps as his cock releases in my mouth, a pulsing, salty, thick flood that I swallow with a smile on my face. Every drop goes down my throat. When his cock ceases pulsing, when there’s nothing more than a scant drop of cum at the head of his cock, I release a contented moan.

Victory.

Then my eyes go wide.

He’s stopped moving, and I can already feel my orgasm teetering, fading, and I refuse to let it go. Is this his petty little way of getting back at me? I look over my shoulder at him, grind my pussy against his face.

“Just because I beat you doesn’t mean you have to throw a fit. Finish what you started, loser.”

”What? And let you win completely? That”s not the game we play, princess.”

There”s a spark in his eyes that reveals his true intention — he’s not done yet.

With a sudden surge of energy, Dixon flips us over with a strength that leaves me breathless. I”m now pinned beneath him, his face still buried between my thighs, and the world tilts on its axis. His tongue resumes its wicked dance, more fervent than before, as if fueled by the need to prove a point.

”You thought that was it?” he growls at me, his breath hot on my skin. The sensation sends shivers down my spine, each one a promise of the climax that hovers just out of reach.

I bite back a moan and glare at him through hooded eyes.

”You”re such an—”

My words cease as a wave of pleasure ripples through me, and I can”t help but arch my back against him. His hands grip my thighs with possessive firmness, holding me still for his relentless assault.

”Admit it, you love this,” Dixon teases between licks that draw circles of ecstasy across my heated flesh. “You’re not commanding me to give you an orgasm. You’re begging for it. Beg, princess. Let me hear it.”

”Never,” I gasp, though my body betrays me, responding to him with an eagerness that defies any animosity. His name slips from my lips in a litany of surrender as he brings me closer and closer to the edge. “Oh, fuck, Dixon, please…”

“But I will not let you finish,” he says. “Not yet.”

He swivels atop me, and now he’s between my legs.

In a moment of defiance, I reach for my clit. “If you’re not capable of doing the job, I will. Go stand in the corner and wait for me. I’ll only need a minute to do what you clearly are incapable of.”

Quicker than I can react, he seizes my wrists and pins them above my head. His lips are on mine, hungry. Then they find my ear.

“That’s not what I mean, Alexandra.”

“Then what do you mean, asshole?” I say, my voice sounding more like a plaintive moan than I’d like, but then, it’s understandable, considering I’m on the edge of what feels like a great orgasm, yet it’s slipping through my fingers like fine-grained sand every passing second that Dixon spends dicking around.

“I don’t want to feel you come against my tongue; I want to feel you come on my cock.”

“Are you hard again?” I swivel my hips, feel his cock pulse against my opening, and my eyes go wide. “Damn, you are.”

“I am, princess.” He shifts his grip, holding both my hands above my head with only one of his. With the other, he takes hold of his cock and brushes the hard head of it against my clit, sending ecstatic electricity pulsing through me. I gasp again. “I want to look down on you while your eyes roll back in your head and your orgasm tears you to pieces.”

He uses his cock to tease my clit again. It is torturous bliss.

“I fucking hate you so much right now.”

“You might hate me, but you want me to fuck you.”

The words sit on my lips, hesitant. I want it, desperately, but do I want the satisfaction that much that I’m willing to give it to him?

Finally, I nod.

He thrusts, just a little, gentle, and I moan. Deep from a part in my chest so low that it might never have existed before this moment. “Oh, fuck me.”

“That’s the point, princess.”

With a smirk that sets my nerves alight, Dixon plunges into me.

I cry out, a tangle of curses and his name, as he fills me completely. His movements are deliberate, powerful—a rhythm that has my body singing with a pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

He leans down, his lips brushing against mine.

”We both know that this is what you wanted,” he whispers.

I can only nod, every fiber of my being focused on the sensations he”s coaxing from deep within me. The friction builds, a crescendo of need that tightens my whole body until I”m nothing but a quivering mass under his control.

”Fucking Dixon,” I gasp between moans. It”s a curse and an endearment all at once and he knows it.

Our eyes lock, and something shifts between us.

The sharp edges of our rivalry soften just enough to let something more dangerous — something like genuine emotion — shine in the depths of his gaze.

”Say it,” he commands. His free hand slides up to cup my cheek, thumb sweeping across my bottom lip, while he fucks me so deeply it feels like my world is breaking apart.

I shake my head defiantly, but my resolve is crumbling. ”Say what?”

”That you”re mine,” he growls. “That, right now, princess, you’re mine, and it’s my cock that’s giving you exactly what you need.”

I spit at him. It hits him square on the cheek and he laughs and then thrusts deep into me, deep enough my world breaks and the only thing keeping me anchored are my fingernails, with which I dig deep furrows into his back.

“Say it, princess.”

“Fuck you.”

“As you wish,” he growls. Another thrust, at a different angle.

I gasp, a vibration begins low in my center, grows, along with a sense of tension like I’m nothing more than a guitar string that’s being tightened and tightened until it’s going to snap into the most beautiful music.

Then another thrust. And another. Deep, hard, with every ounce of hate and unspoken lust that’s existed between us since the moment we met.

I shatter.

Shatter with those words that I swore I’d never say springing from my lips.

“Oh, fuck, I need your cock. Give it to me. Give it to me, you fucking bastard. Make me come.”

Through the cloud of ecstasy wracking me, I hear him moan and feel his cock twitch inside me. He’s close. Again.

He grips my thighs and spreads them to extract himself. “I’m going to come,.”

But I’m not done with him.

I lock my ankles behind him.

His eyes go wide, and I by the back of the head, pulling myself until my lips are right next to his, my eyes staring into his.

“I’m not done with your cock yet, Dixon Green. So don’t you dare pull out.”

“But…”

I hit him. It’s not a punch, not a slap, something in between. “Your cock is mine, Dixon. You’ll get it back when I’m done with it.”

Hips writhing, each motion touching somewhere perfect inside me with his cock, I grind into him. Groaning, he tries to hold on, but I don’t give a damn either way. I use his cock for all it’s worth, until it’s twitching, shaking, filling me with his come, all while I ride out every wave of the blissful orgasm flowing through me.

He’s a mess when I’m done.

Smiling, satisfied, I unlock my ankles and let him free.

Then, after a deep breath, I stand and gently slap his cheek.

“Good boy. Now, put your clothes on so we can get the fuck out of here.”

I dress. The fabric clings to my heated skin, a reminder of what just unfolded between Dixon and me. I can still feel the ghost of his touch, the imprint he”s left on every inch of my body. I glance at him; he”s watching me with intensity as he zips up his jeans, his expression unreadable. I”m not sure why the sight of him looking less than smug sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with fear or loathing and everything to do with something far more dangerous — vulnerability. It”s as if, in that moment of raw passion, we”ve stripped away more than just our clothes.

I stride toward the door with a confidence I don”t fully feel, eager to put some distance between us. As I step out into the hallway, I hear him behind me.

“Destiny, wait,” he says, using my assumed name now that we’re out in the open.

“What is it, Bison?”

I turn and come to a rigid stop the moment I see the look on his face. His expression is so utterly alien compared to the smirk that I’m used to, and it fills me with fear. In his eyes, I see the same feelings that I am fighting so hard against.

He opens his mouth. I tense — this is it, the moment where everything changes between us.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”