Dirty Trick

  “Hang onto this.” He handed her the wine and crossed the room toward the far wall where he’d noticed a panel next to the light switch, which he ignored. Moonlight was perfect for what he had planned and, even better, the house was wired for XM radio and surround sound, exactly as he’d hoped. He selected a smooth jazz station and turned the volume up loud enough that, if conversation lagged, they could just listen and not feel awkward. Perfect. Grabbing some of the throw pillows from the lounger, he turned back around to find her frantically trying to pry the loosened cork from the bottle with her teeth, and he bit back a chuckle. A drunk Grace wasn’t part of the plan, but if she needed a little liquid courage to get past her nerves, it couldn’t hurt.

  He walked toward her and laid the pillows on the ground at their feet. When he took the bottle from her, she didn’t resist. “I didn’t get any wine glasses, so we’ll have to rough it,” he said with a smile. He yanked out the cork and handed it back to her.

  “That’s okay. Considering you had your tongue in my mouth a minute ago, and that we’re about to…” The muscles in her throat worked beneath the delicate ivory skin, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to her. From tracing the spot with the tip of his finger. She shuddered and swallowed again, hard. “Look, I don’t want to scare you away, but it’s been a long time since I’ve done this. I know I’m acting weird, but, frankly, I don’t know how to stop it.”

  “Don’t worry about anything. We don’t even have to go there. Let’s just hang out and see what happens, okay? Stars are bright tonight.” He shrugged off his leather jacket, tossed it onto the floor, and held out his hand. “Come on.”

  She slipped her fingers into his and sank into a seated position on his coat, fidgeting to make sure her skirt covered as much of her as possible, which wasn’t much. He lowered himself next to her, and then reclined backward until his head was propped on the pillows. Her back stayed ramrod straight for a second before she sucked in a deep breath and took a long swig from the bottle. She swiped a hand over her mouth, setting the bottle onto the stone with a clink, then stretched out next to him. Flat on her back, stiff as a board.

  “So, um,” she said, shifting to get comfortable. “What do you do for a living, other than fight crime and hunt gazelles or whatever?”

  Her tone was so bright it was almost brittle, so he moved closer until their arms were touching. She’d been soft as butter when he’d held her on the dance floor earlier. Maybe talking was only going to make things worse. He thought of how to frame his answer without lying to her, but she saved him from the effort.

  “You know what? Don’t tell me. As long as you’re not a serial killer, I don’t really care.”

  “I’m definitely not a serial killer. But I hate to tell you, your interview process is flawed. I would’ve answered the same way even if I was.”

  That got the desired chuckle from her and some of the tension seemed to flow out of her. “You were right, the stars are gorgeous tonight,” she murmured. Her fingers twitched against his knuckles, and he took her hand.

  “That cluster is Cassiopeia,” he said, tracing a pattern of white light in the inky sky. “The goddess of war. She hunts wild boar with her bow and arrow to feed her army of warriors.”

  “Wow, really?”

  “No. Not really. I have no clue what that constellation is. Or who Cassiopeia is, for that matter.” He shrugged. “But I’m a gambling man. I figured you didn’t know either, and maybe I could impress you.” He rolled to his side and raised his brows. “Are you impressed?”

  This time she laughed loudly, his favorite laugh. The one that shook her whole, curvy frame. The one he would have donned a goddamned jester’s cap and curly-tipped shoes to coax from her. What a fucking sap. Pussy-whipped beyond all recognition without ever having had a taste of the pussy. But even that knowledge didn’t stop the warmth in his chest from spreading.

  She flipped onto her hip to face him and grinned. “Actually, I am kind of impressed. I couldn’t have come up with BS like that on the fly. You should be a lawyer. Or maybe you are?” She eyed him speculatively.

  “Nope. Not even close. Nice try, though.” He tucked a curl behind her ear and leaned in close enough for that gardenia shampoo to tickle his nostrils. “I’m more of a hands-on kind of guy.” The wail of the horns in the background seemed louder, the music just a little sexier, as he waited to see if she was ready to take the bait.

  “I see no evidence of that so far,” she whispered. Her dark eyes were huge, but her voice was sure now, ringing with resolve. “Show me.”

  He instantly reverted back to age fourteen when he was lying on the dock with Melody Fenwick. White cotton bra in his hand, heart lodged in his throat, dick hard as a rock, thrust against his zipper. He really hoped the almighty did him a solid here and let him hold out for longer than he did then. Poor Melody had gone home that night with nothing more than a sticky hand and a sad tale. It had taken him a solid week to get her to give him another shot to make up for it. This time, there would be no second chances.

  Then Gracie’s lips touched his, and his thoughts screeched to a halt. Soft and full, that pretty mouth he’d seen in his dreams so many times. Tentative at first, then bolder. Harder. Tension pooled in his groin, an ache building hot and fast. He took the kiss deeper, exploring her mouth with his tongue, diving a hand into that mass of black hair, anchoring her close.

  She hummed, low in her throat, and he hummed back, shifting his body closer, lining up her soft parts to his hard ones. She responded instantly, plastering her plush breasts against him, nipping at his bottom lip. He groaned, and she pulled back.

  “Sorry. Am I hurting you?” she asked, eyes wide. “I won’t do it again.”

  He wrapped his fist into her hair and drew her back to him. “Stop that. You’re breaking my heart here, love.” He closed his teeth over her lip, and she gasped. “Did that hurt?”

  She shook her head and cleared her throat, but her words still came out thick and husky. “N-no.”

  “Well, I’m a lot bigger and stronger than you are, so why would you think it would hurt me?”

  She broke eye contact and nodded, almost to herself, before locking gazes with him again. “I guess I wasn’t sure. But let me know if I do anything weird that you don’t like, okay?”

  It wasn’t like she was a virgin. He knew she’d had a live-in fiancé before she’d moved from California to Salem, so surely they’d been sleeping together. Why would a little nip send her into a fit of nerves? He set that question aside for later consideration and ran a hand through her hair.

  “Will do. But don’t hold your breath. I don’t think there’s much you could want to do to me that I wouldn’t like.” Tipping his head closer, he kissed her again, putting every ounce of want into it, hoping that was enough to wipe all the doubts away. It took a minute, but then she sank into him, molding herself against him.

  He pulled back slightly, and she protested until he sent a questing hand down the front of her oh-so-tiny corset top and cupped the fullness of her breast.

  “Oh,” she murmured arching forward. His cock bucked hard, and he cursed the very same scrap of fitted silk that he’d just been praising in his mind. It looked great, but he needed skin. Bare flesh to touch, and suck, and bite.

  He traced the line of hooks that spanned from her cleavage to hip level and groaned. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he rolled to the side, carrying her with him until she was on her back again, staring up at him with those big eyes.

  “Put your hands up and let your legs go,” he demanded.

  She grimaced when she realized she’d had him wrapped up tight, like a starfish on an oyster. “I’m sooo sorry. I—”

  “Why do you keep doing that?” He asked, hoping he sounded less exasperated than he felt. He wasn’t frustrated with her, but was pissed as hell at the man before him who’d made her feel this way.

  “Doing what?”

  “Apologizing. Second guessing yourself. Yo
u’re about the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, and your instincts are balls-on accurate. Do what feels good, and you can never go wrong with me, okay? Short of calling in some goats armed with lube, there’s nothing you can do to freak me out or scare me away. I only had you let me go so I could touch you.”

  He’d known that Victor had fucked with her head, but he’d never asked exactly how, and she’d never offered much in the way of explanation. He’d always thought it was the surface stuff. Like when he told her that she should get liposuction on her hips, or that her laugh was too loud, or that he wished she looked more like this actress or that model. Sneaky little digs that, over time, had taken a toll on her self-esteem.

  What he hadn’t realized until exactly this second was that he’d also made her doubt herself sexually.

  “Old habits.” She wet her lips. “But I’ll stop.” She slowly let her arms drift up, over her head. “Is this what you wanted me to do?”

  The move thrust her breasts forward, almost to the point that they were a sneeze away from busting right out of the top of her corset, and he found himself wishing for some pepper. Not likely to materialize, so he’d have to use good old-fashioned ingenuity.

  He sank back on his knees and studied the tiny hooks for a long moment before nodding. No problem. He had this on lock. He dipped down to kiss the swell of both breasts before he went to work, gently freeing each hook with a flick of his thumbs. When he got to her ribs, she took a deep breath, and the two panels of fabric separated to reveal her breasts.

  “Even more gorgeous than I ever imagined.” He realized dimly that that sounded weird coming from a stranger, but it was too late to retract and, judging by the look on her face, she either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared.

  “I’m glad you think so.” Her smile wasn’t one like a cat that had gotten the canary, or even one of pride. She was genuinely delighted that he was digging her body, and again, it had him wondering exactly how big of a prick Victor had been. And just how blind. Part of him wanted to thank him for not being man enough to hang onto her, but the bigger part wanted to bust him right in the chops.

  He paused in his efforts to get her top off and traced his forefinger over her collar bone down to her cleavage. Spreading his hand wide, he veered right and covered her whole, naked breast in his hand, his entire body tightening when her stiff nipple poked his palm insistently.

  “That—,” she gasped, “feels so good.”

  He repeated the gesture on the other side and tried not to blow his load right there when he realized that, after all this time, he was straddling Gracie’s thighs, hands full of her glorious tits, and he was about to do a whole lot more.

  But not if they sat here with most of their clothes on.

  “I’m going to lock the doors, okay?” he rasped.

  “Yes. Hurry up, though.”

  Like she needed to tell him. They were both ready to get down to serious business, and he found himself wishing he actually was Batman so he could yank a tool from his utility belt and throw it across the room to secure the doors.

  He rolled to his feet to lock the side door before crossing over to the main sliding pocket-doors. His world crumbled as he stared at them. No. Fucking. Latches. Only the fact that he knew she was watching him kept him from banging his head on the wood in frustration.

  “We can’t do this here.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. The charred remains of broken, dirty dreams. “Only the side door locks. Anyone could come in at any time.” The room he’d thought had been a godsend had been nothing more than a twisted mirage.

  Motherfucker.

  He quickly ran through his options and had settled on asking if she wanted to find a spare bedroom, when she derailed his thoughts with three little words.

  “I don’t care.”

  …

  “I don’t want to stop,” she whispered. His gaze shot to hers, and she chewed her lip for a second before working up a brave smile. “Let’s go into the sauna. No windows or anything in there, and we can hear if someone comes into this room.”

  He didn’t hesitate, scooping her up into her arms. She squealed and latched onto his neck. “I’m too heavy. Put me down, I can walk!”

  “You’re a buck-thirty, max, and I could carry two of you, so pipe down.”

  He kicked open the sauna door and stepped in, setting her down on the cedar floor. The scent of wood and mint hung in the air.

  “Let’s turn it on,” she whispered.

  He fiddled with the dial until the steamer in the corner started to make noise. “It’s going to get pretty hot in here.”

  “That’s okay. I like it hot.”

  His slow grin made her initial embarrassment at the unintentionally brazen words melt away. He’d been telling the truth. He wanted her to be herself. He wanted her to tell him what she wanted and what she liked.

  Maybe he even liked dirty talk.

  She swallowed hard and hoped the sound of the steam whistling covered the resulting gulp. Might as well let it rip.

  “Yeah. I want your c—” It stuck in her throat, and she tried again. “I want your big c—” Again, she couldn’t work it past her lips. He stared at her with a puzzled but patient smile. “I want your cock…a doodly doo…in-inside my p—…lady area…business.” She expelled in a rush.

  Oh God, no. What was that?

  “I mean—” She started to sweat, and shook her head violently. “That’s not what I meant.” Jesus, who had turned the heat on in here? She couldn’t look at him, sure he was laughing at her or having a serious internal debate about tearing ass out the door and leaving her in the sauna alone with her crazy.

  But she was wrong. He chucked her chin until she looked up at him, tears of shame clouding her vision. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to do, please yourself or me, but either way, I appreciate the try. And,” he leaned in low, tipping his hips against hers until she felt the thick evidence of his want, “I concur with the sentiment. There is nothing I want more than to be inside your lady area business.”

  She was tempted to slump in relief, but the feeling of him lodged against her belly was too delicious to give up. If he wanted honesty, she was all about it. And right now, she honestly wanted to get her hands on that beef.

  She lifted a tentative finger to his belt buckle and let it drift lower, until the ridge beneath his khakis became undeniable. She cupped him then, gently at first, and then harder. Hard enough that he jerked, but not away. Closer.

  “That’s fucking nice, Grace.” His voice was so low and deep, he sounded more Darth Vader than caped crusader now, and the tingles shimmered even brighter until her whole body felt like it was made of light.

  She stroked the length of him, up and down, in a firm caress, and he let out a hiss.

  “I’m going to let you play around down there for one more minute, love, but then I need you to stop. I want to touch you too, and you’re making it real hard on me to remember why we shouldn’t jump right to the part where my cock…adoodly doo ends up in your lady stuff. Deal?” His breath ruffled her hair but she didn’t look up, too intent on the scintillating task at hand.

  She fumbled with the button of his pants, but then the zipper was smooth sailing, despite being strained beyond what could have been expected by the manufacturer. Catman was a healthy boy. That’d be something new. Victor had been more the type of guy that would inspire sad smiles and sentences that ended with “size doesn’t matter.” Grace pushed him out of her head, vowing that it would be the last time she let him in at all, and focused on the man before her. She yanked the sides of his pants away until she could slip her hand between the fabric and his underwear, reveling in this new, more intimate contact.

  He groaned, flexing into her. He wore the thinnest of boxer briefs, and she explored his broad head with the tip of her thumb. All at once, it wasn’t enough, and she gripped his waistband and pulled down his pants and underwear in one go. His shaft sprang forward, bobbing before settling high agains
t his belly, and she whimpered. Thick, hard, and delicious looking. She moistened her dry lips and started to sink toward him—

  “Forget about it,” he ground out. “Not fucking happening.” He must have noted her stricken expression because he added. “Not right now, at least. I want to—believe me, I want to. But I can’t take it, love.”

  The words took the sting out of his refusal. She didn’t resist when he pressed her backward, using his body like a bulldozer until the back of her knees touched the warm wood of one of the benches. “Sit.”

  She sat. The rising steam swirled around them, and the heat sank into her bones, so much so that she couldn’t wait to be naked. Apparently, he was on the same wavelength because he tore off his pants before kneeling in front of her to pick up one boot-clad foot.

  He held tight. “Pull,” he instructed. The boot came off with a thunk, and he tossed it over his shoulder before moving to the next. “Pull.”

  Breasts bared and now shoeless, she was feeling a little self-conscious. Maybe it was the way he stared at her splayed, stockinged legs so raptly. Or maybe it was the way he devoured every inch of her with his eyes. Whatever it was, right when she started to squirm, he leaned in and laid a scorching kiss on her that had her forgetting all about her inhibitions. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she clamped her thighs over him tight. A little more, and he’d be right where she needed him to—

  “Mmm,” she groaned when he lined their parts up right and tight. She wiggled her hips, and waves of need pulsed through her. Before she could find whether that would work the way she needed it to so badly, he pulled back.

  “Stockings off.” He flipped her skirt up and gave her hips an appreciative squeeze before freezing. “Jesus, you have on garters?” His voice was so low and choked she could barely make out his words.

  Apparently that was a good thing. She sent a mental “good looking out, girl” to Serena who’d insisted that she wear them in order to “keep in character.” Little had she known that someone else would see them.

  She nodded, thrilled when he closed his cat-green eyes and seemed to count to ten before opening them again.

  “Thank God the steam is thick because if I had seen them when I wasn’t prepared, I’d have dropped dead on the spot. That’s how close I am right now.”

  He passed her hips again, giving them another caress that made her glad she’d never caved to Victor’s demands that she get lipo, and then onto her thighs.

  “Your skin is so soft. Like a ripe peach, and I want to eat you just as bad,” he said. His fingers expertly found the garter snaps and flicked them open, skimming the stockings over her knees before she could catch her breath. Only a player would know his way around women’s undergarments like that. By the same token, that also meant he knew his way around a woman’s body, so as long as she went in with her eyes open, this could shape up to be the hottest time of her life.

  He slid the silk lower, stopping to trail his hands over her knees and massage her calves, even tickling her insole as he went. Then they were gone, tossed into the corner with her shoes.

  He stared down at her, and she followed his gaze. Through the thick wash of steam, she could just make out the silhouette of her splayed thighs, and the black skirt flipped up to reveal a tiny pair of lace underwear that she’d picked up to replace her “bloomers” at Serena’s request on the way over. She sure didn’t regret it now because the tension in his jaw, the desire in his eyes…priceless.

  “Let’s leave the skirt on,” he said, and hooked a finger around her panties. He gave a sharp tug, and they snapped in his big hand. She gasped at the raw need on his face at what he’d exposed. He looked for so long, she was about to ask him yet again if everything was okay, if maybe she’d done something wrong, but there was no time. Because a second later, he fell onto her, burying his face between her thighs with a muttered curse. His tongue hit her first, lashing at the straining bud between her thighs, and she bit back a scream.

  Chapter Five

  Honey. The taste he’d imagined a thousand times was like wild, sweet honey. He could no more stop what he was doing than turn into a real panther, so he was glad to hear her whimper. A good, “give me more of that” kind of whimper.

  He was relentless, rubbing his tongue against her swollen clit. “Oh, my gosh,” she muttered, chanting it over and over.

  The hands that had been clenched on his shoulders let loose and dove into his hair, gripping so tight that, if he’d had any blood left in his body that hadn’t drained to his cock, it might have hurt.

  He grunted his approval of her uninhibited response. This was the Grace he’d known had been in there somewhere. The one that he’d wanted for so long. The Grace that squirmed during the love scenes in a movie in a way that made him want to test her wetness with his hand. The Grace whose eyes had gone wide when they’d seen that couple having sex under the boardwalk the last time they’d taken the dogs for a walk on the beach at sunset.

  Maybe thinking about the dogs was a good idea because things were ratcheting up fast, and the taste of her and the feel of her heated flesh against his tongue were making it a close thing.

  “Please,” she murmured, this new word breaking her previous chant.

  His cocked jerked, and he obliged her happily, sucking the firm bud between his lips and laving it harder with his tongue. She stiffened, the thighs around his waist locking tighter than a boa constrictor. Very nice. The hands he’d been using to bracket her hips slid lower, spreading her wider. Then he sent his finger to join his mouth, easing it into her unresisting heat. Slick and wet, her tight channel clasped his finger, and she went wild, bucking and arching. Her words lost focus and form and disintegrated into meaningless pleas. He kept the pace steady, working her tight pussy in and out in long, even strokes.

  She groaned and tossed her head. “Please, it’s…so much.” He pulled back and slipped his finger from her, dialing the intensity back. He hadn’t meant to scare her.

  “I want you inside me.”

  Okay, so, not scared. She pushed him so hard that he rocked back onto his heels and fell flat onto his ass. She was on him in a second, straddling his hips, rubbing her body all over his. The steamy heat that he’d had his face buried in only moments before pressed against him, and his shoulders tensed. He felt the telltale clench as a drop of fluid leaked from the head of his cock.

  “Do you have a condom?” she whispered, all the while sliding her pussy over his shaft in a slippery caress.

  His brain was in meltdown, and it took him a beat to understand her words. Did he have one?

  “Yeah, in my pants. Wallet.”

  She flattened herself over his chest to reach past his shoulder. She nabbed his pants and rifled through them to get his wallet. He was still reeling from the feel of her tits against his chest when it hit him. If she saw his beat up old leather wallet, he was as good as busted. She’d seen it a thousand times before and had suggested he get a new one just the week before. He reached overhead and snagged the pants from her grasp. “Lotta pockets, I got it.”