12
Cade
You can’t do more for her without risking everything.
I tell myself this for what feels like the thousandth time as I strip off my shirt and sweatpants, heading straight to the shower to wash off the remnants of Chicago and a woman whose touch branded me like a hot iron.
Memories of that innocuous touch on my neck send a fresh spike of arousal through me, my cock hardening despite my iron control.
Another time and place, without so much riding on the moment . . . fuck. I would have broken all my rules and devoured that woman until neither of us could walk straight.
The icy spray hits me like a benediction. I brace my hands against the tiled wall, letting the water cascade over my head and down my back, each droplet a reminder of my failure to stay detached. I close my eyes, willing away the tensio n of the past twelve hours.
But instead of relaxing, my mind refocuses on Luna with laser precision, all the blood rushing south despite the frigid water pelting my skin. I can still feel the electric jolt of her fingertips. Still see the intoxicating mix of fear and fascination in those sloe eyes. Still feel the way her body melted against mine even as she fought me.
“Fuck,” I mutter, pressing my forehead against the cool tile. It must be because it’s been weeks since I’ve even wanted to get laid. I’ve been too focused on breaking through Hector’s ranks and establishing myself as a reputable flesh dealer.
As if with a mind of its own, my hand wraps around my cock, and I hiss at the contact. I stroke tight and slow, my mind filling with images of flared hips and a generous ass cradling my length. The fantasy builds without permission.
This time, she’s not fighting me. She’s naked in my mind, wrists tied to the beam of my four-poster bed, completely at my mercy. The way she should be. The way I shouldn’t want her to be.
Her toes barely graze the floor as she shifts, trying to follow me while I circle her slowly, taking in every curve of her body. Her chest rises and falls with each heavy breath, drawing my attention to her perky tits, flushed and irresistible. She radiates anticipation, the scent of adrenaline and arousal filling the air—a heady combination that makes my mouth water.
I stop in front of her, my control already fraying as I graze a finger across her plump lips, then down the column of her throat.
“I’m going to fill you with pleasure and pain, and you’re going to take everyt hing and beg for more. Understood?”
Her eyes flare with defiance even as her cheeks flush with desire. Her lips are pressed together, stubborn to the end. But they won’t be for long.
I lean in and graze my lips along her jaw and down her neck, marking my territory. Halfway down, I sink my teeth into the tender flesh of her breast. She bites her lips to suppress her moans.
In a matter of moments, she’s covered in my marks from her neck to the tight globes of her ass. Her breath comes faster now, her thighs pressed together, desperate to ease the ache that’s building between them, but she’s still too proud to beg. Her eyes sparkle with a lethal mix of fury and raw desire.
Exactly as they did when I had her against the door.
I slide my hands up her ribcage, cupping her tits and squeezing them together. They create the perfect channel, an ideal space to shove my cock, and I will. Soon.
The promise of it makes my grip on reality slip further as I fist my cock tighter, my hips pumping faster, pleasure coursing along my spine and tearing out of me in ragged moans.
I catch her taut nipples between my fingers and squeeze hard, making her gasp when the pressure teeters into something more—that potent combination of pleasure and pain that twists together and creates a feeling so much more powerful than either on its own.
“Please, Cade.”
The whispered supplication tumbles from her lips as she finally breaks and begs. Her swollen clit peeks out at me, her wetness glistening on her thighs, an irresistible offeri ng. She gasps as I graze my tongue along her slit, then cries out a warbled version of my name, a decadent sound that shoots straight to my balls.
But when I take the plug and reach around her to slide it between her ass cheeks, her whole body tenses.
“Wait—” That hitch in her voice, just like when I had my cock nestled against her.
“Shh. You’re going to take everything, princess,” I remind her, then return my attention to her clit. I grip the plug’s base and shove the tip into her ass, and her groan echoes in the room.
She moans as I continue sucking her clit into my mouth until her muscles loosen. By the time the plug bottoms out, she’s too far gone to fight her need.
The pace of my fist quickens in reality, water sluicing over my tensed muscles. I’m chasing release, desperate to purge this unwanted distraction from my system. My breath comes in harsh pants, echoing off the tiles, mixing fantasy and reality until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
Just as I’m nearing the edge, as Luna trembles with an orgasm I can almost feel rippling along my cock, the sharp chime of the penthouse doorbell slices through my lust-filled haze.
I freeze, every muscle locking as I listen for any follow-up noise. The water continues to pound against me, but my focus has shifted entirely, years of training kicking in despite my body’s protest. My cock throbs angrily at the interruption, but survival instincts trump lust every time.
No one should ever use that doorbell. The hotel staff are well aware of this. Which means whoever is at that door is either very lost or very dangerous.
Given the events of the last twelve hours, I’m betting on the latter .
Shutting off the water, I wrap a towel around my waist, my movements precise despite the remnants of lust in my bloodstream. The bell chimes again, setting every nerve on edge. I move stealthily toward the lounge, scanning the room and cataloging my weapons’ locations with practiced efficiency.
One Glock is still on the nightstand, another in the holster on the bed. The closest is on the ledge right above the door. But guns would be a last resort. Even with silencers, they’re too noisy and leave too much of a mess.
My hand finds the tungsten rosary around my neck, the cool metal a stark contrast to my heated skin. I remove it and wrap the beads around my fist. It’s a well-loved thing—and an effectively deadly weapon.
I approach the door with measured steps, water still dripping down my chest as I lean in to check the peephole. The distorted fish-eye view of my visitor almost makes me choke on my own spit.
It’s her. Again.
All wide eyes and flowing hair, looking like my dirtiest fantasy gift-wrapped and delivered to my door.
Irritation and desire flare hot in my gut, each warring for dominance, and I make myself recall everything that's gone wrong in the last twelve hours.
The sloppy rescue. Her sprawling across my bed like she belonged there and leaving her damn scent everywhere. The shattered vase and godawful mess I had to clean up. Her snarky tongue. Her touch. The raging lust that refuses to settle.
What fresh hell has she brought to my doorstep now?
A soft knock replaces the doorbell. As if she knows I’m standing right here, separated by mere inches of wood.
My jaw clenches as I throw the door open in a flash and yank her in, kicking it shut before whoever else she’s brought can follow.
Lun a squeals as she crashes into me, her hands plastered on my chest. And if I thought her touch burned earlier, this is so much worse. My fantasy roars back to life with devastating clarity.
But it’s the sight of her primly dressed in a blazer that hits me the hardest. A white cami peeks out beneath the tailored black fabric, stretching over her full breasts, and something primal in me wants to tear the blazer off her even as another part wants to keep her in it.
I trap her against the nearest wall, caging her in with my palms on either side of her head. Water drips from my hair onto her upturned face, and the sight of those droplets trailing down her throat makes my mouth water.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing coming back—”
The words die on my lips as I see the unbridled lust in her eyes. The way her gaze drops from my neck and traces the rivulets of water down my chest and then lower. She gasps, a blush staining her cheeks as she licks her lips.
I’m acutely aware of my state—practically naked, still hard as a fucking rock, and now pressed against the very woman I was just fantasizing about violating in every way possible.
The universe must have a dark and twisted sense of humor.