Playing Dirty

  The captain came over the intercom and went into his spiel about our altitude and anticipated time of arrival. After he gave us the all clear to move about the cabin, a nearly knocked out Denver got to his unsteady feet.

  “Oh, let me help you,” Cassidy said, shedding her seat belt and standing so quickly that the two of them almost butted heads.

  Denver put his hands out to gain some semblance of balance. “It’s okay. I’ve got it.”

  “Here, let me.” Standing as well, I hooked his arm over my shoulder and took some of his weight, which felt like all of my own.

  Annette, our very lovely stewardess, led the way to the back cabin. Once inside, Denver fell, face-first, onto the bed. Out like a light. Without being asked, my beautiful assistant carefully removed his shoes and placed a pillow under his head; he immediately grabbed it and hugged it tight.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “It’s my pleasure, Mr. Matthews. Is there anything I can get for you and your other guest at this time?”

  I looked toward the main cabin. All the preparation I’d put into the flight alone had cost me a fortune, yet I had a feeling most of the refreshments would go untouched. “We can handle the drinks. Why don’t you make yourself and the captain a plate and take it easy?”

  The smile she wore was one of the most beautiful and sincere I’d ever seen. Under different circumstances—though I wasn’t sure anymore what those circumstances would be and why they weren’t the case now—I probably would’ve ended up fucking her in the galley.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  With a sigh, I nodded. I had no clue how Cassidy had come to be on my jet, or why she was dressed like a night out on the town was part of the agenda, but I intended to find out.

  “Very well, then. I’ll excuse myself to the service cabin. If you change your mind, you need only pick up the telephone.” With another breathtaking smile, she took her leave. I watched as she did so, admiring the gentle sway of her hips. But the sight didn’t have the same effect on me as it might have once upon a time. Maybe the culprit behind my indifference was the near-obsessive thought that kept rumbling around in my head like Jack’s giant in search of his golden egg–laying goose.

  Only my golden goose wasn’t Denver, like I had originally thought. It was Cassidy. Dammit. When had that happened?

  Closing the ultrathin door to the private cabin where Denver was now sawing some serious logs, I made my way into the main sitting area. Cassidy was thumbing through a magazine—Sports Illustrated, not Cosmo—like she hadn’t a care in the world, while I was trying desperately to come to grips with my mounting jealousy.

  Jealousy wasn’t an emotion I was used to feeling. Hell, I’d cut myself off from feeling most emotions, in fact; it was just better for business. Some of the biggest mistakes made in the industry happened because agents got their feelings hurt. I had no intention of being one of those agents, but something had to be done about all this “what the fuck is she doing here with him” that had attached itself to the left side of my brain and was sucking the life out of my ability to think rationally.

  I didn’t know what Cassidy saw when she looked up to find me coming at her, but it was clear by the expression in her eyes that it was both unexpected and welcome. There was no warning even to myself—then again, I wasn’t thinking rationally—before I’d snatched her up, crushed the devastating curves of her body against me, and claimed her mouth.

  Mine.

  Cassidy

  Holy something wicked this way comes, Batman!

  Shaw marched toward me with purpose in his long stride, anger in the hard lines of his face, and pure lust in his eyes. Jesus, what a sight.

  But it was nothing compared to the way he hoisted me up as if I didn’t weigh a thing and fit my form perfectly to his. The warmth of his body, the scent of his skin, the control of his kiss … a kiss that made every passionate exchange in chick flicks look like a peck on the cheek by comparison. Shaw’s lips were soft yet firm, slow in the way they moved against mine with expert control. His fingers pressed into my skin, drawing me impossibly closer, while his tongue made an appearance to coax an invitation to mingle with my own. The invitation was accepted, and I didn’t even bother to fake opposition.

  Oh, God … his mouth. His glorious, glorious mouth. I was instantly reminded of everything Shaw could and had done with it. His lips, teeth, and tongue made promises that didn’t need to be spoken aloud because I was very much aware that he could deliver.

  I was a goner. Done for. Crippled by his physical presence and drunk on the taste of him.

  And then he moved to my neck, showing no mercy to the spot that joined my shoulder. It was my weakness, the place where the direct path to my pleasure began, and he knew it. “Why are you with him?” he asked without slowing his assault.

  I could’ve told him I was there to keep an eye on Denver, since he had been so careless with the quarterback of late. I could’ve said I wanted to use the vantage point to track his movements in order to outmaneuver him. I could’ve told him I simply wanted to be a thorn in his side. But I didn’t. I didn’t because I knew that any one of those truths would have given him too much satisfaction. And there was only one way in which I was interested in satisfying him.

  I took control then, forcing him to trade places. There was little resistance. Nuzzling his neck, I inhaled deeply, intoxicated by his scent. With a nip to his skin that made his hardened cock flinch against my stomach, I grinned victoriously to myself while moving along the taut tendon there to his ear. “Why do you care?”

  My response was dubious, not at all what he’d wanted to hear. And he made damn sure I knew it.

  Fisting the hair at my nape, he drew my head back and forced me to look at him. His eyes darkened to the color of storm clouds. “Answer the goddamn question, Cassidy.”

  “Because I want to be.” It was the partial truth.

  His jaw ticked. “I’m not okay with that.”

  “I don’t recall asking your permission.”

  “Why do you insist on making me crazy?” Palming my breast, he squeezed hard, as if he were punishing me for the response. Little did he realize, I liked it. A lot.

  Wicked intent was in the driver’s seat of my next words: “Because I can.”

  He growled, roughly shoving his big hands under my dress to grab my ass. But he didn’t stop there. With a grip that made me wince with the sort of pain I found to be quite pleasurable, he lifted me from the floor, forcing me to hold on or fall. Though I had a feeling falling would not have been an option, as it would have also provided an escape. Shaw wasn’t going to let me go anywhere until he decided I could.

  I linked my fingers behind his neck, looking down at him with a smirk I knew would taunt him further. “Now what? Are we going to put on a show for the cockpit crew?”

  His brow furrowed.

  “FAA regulations require cameras in the main passenger areas.”

  Shaw looked around the cabin, his eyes finding the proof. Then his frustrated frown got turned upside down. Obviously, he’d come up with a solution. “You’re not getting off that easily,” he warned, and I prayed he didn’t mean it literally. Especially after the torture he’d put me through during our little experiment the other night when he’d brought me to the edge over and over again only to deny my release.

  When he turned and headed toward the back of the plane, I laughed. “What are you going to do, put me in the bed and fuck me right next to Denver?”

  Shaw wasn’t laughing when he said, “I should.” I believed he would have if that was the only option.

  With careful precision, he managed to open the door to the bathroom and walk both of us through before closing it again. The interior of the room was quite impressive, much larger than in a regular passenger plane and decked out, though I shouldn’t have been surprised, given the extravagance of the rest of the jet. But when Shaw put me on the sink counter and got busy with his mouth on my bare shoulder an
d his hands on pulling down the bodice of my dress to expose my breasts, it was the floor-to-ceiling mirror behind him that seized my attention. Not that what he was doing didn’t feel good, because holy crap did it ever, but I could see it all in that mirror, afforded a view I hadn’t ever been granted before, and it excited me to no end.

  My dress was now pushed up around my waist, and Shaw was making fast work of pulling my arms out of the sleeves to let the top bunch there, too. I was mentally thanking the dress’s designer for the stretchy material while silently hoping it didn’t get stretched out of shape too badly before all was said and done. That wouldn’t look suspicious at all.

  The heat of Shaw’s mouth found the hardened peak of my breast for long, pulling sucks, and I closed my eyes to relish the feeling, though not for long. I didn’t want to miss a thing, and with this new position, I didn’t have to. But the mirror wouldn’t give me a better angle to see what he was doing than simply looking down, so that was what I did. Shaw’s cool blues met my stare with approval. He liked that I wanted to watch, and he gave me a show for it, exaggerating the movement of his tongue and making sure I could see each manipulative flick of my nipple. When he took the whole peak into his mouth and sucked slowly and purposefully, that was the part I liked the best.

  And then his hand was inside my panties, and the seductive groan that always accompanied his first feel of my wetness was my reward. “Shh … you’ll wake Denver,” I warned him.

  “I don’t care” was his jealous response. And that was when it hit me. All of this had been about his little green-eyed monster. Shaw was jealous of Denver. He wasn’t mad that I’d crashed his party—he was peeved that I’d shown up with another man. Some part of me rallied, owned the knowledge, and soared with a hefty boost of confidence.

  So I grabbed his face and forced his mouth to mine to cover a moan of my own. Damn, but his fingers were so very talented and Shaw was in the mood to show off. I spread my legs even wider, arching my back to give him a better angle. The way the man massaged my clit should’ve been an Olympic event, because you better believe that took crazy skills. Biting his lip, I held still, waiting for the orgasm I knew would come at any moment. Yes, he was that good.

  And it did come. I buried my face against his neck and held back my moan as Shaw continued to work me. Hearing his heavy exhalation was all the proof I needed that my release had driven him crazy. At least he was behaving and no longer trying to make sure Denver knew about the naughtiness we were up to.

  When my orgasm subsided, Shaw stripped me of my soaked panties while I released his cock. I wanted him inside me. Even more so when I pushed his pants over his hips and saw how hard and thick he was. It was enough to make a grown woman cry, but instead, I admired the appendage as if it were sculpted art. Except I could touch this sculpture.

  Shaw’s cock was beautiful, with a nice, robust head that sloped into a prominent ridge. Soft skin stretched taut over his rigidity, and the shaft was as tan as the rest of his body. But Jesus, the veins … the veins were plump with the lustful blood that raged through them in that moment.

  “I need to be inside you,” he whispered.

  Yeah, I needed him there, too.

  Taking his cock out of my hands, he bent at the knees and positioned himself at my entrance while scooting me forward until I was only halfway on the edge. And then he pushed the tip inside. Another one of those long, audible exhalations came from him; I looked at his face and nearly came again when I saw his eyes close in ecstasy. There was just something about knowing you could make a man feel that good.

  He pulled back again, opening his eyes and gazing directly into mine as he pushed in once more, going a little deeper.

  “You feel so incredible,” he said, and then his attention went to the place where we were joined. Mine followed, and we both watched as he repeated the retreat and advance, over and over again until he’d worked himself inside.

  The stretch and fill of Shaw’s penetration was unlike any sensation on earth. And the vision of all that masculinity coated in my juices was one I would never forget. Neither would Shaw, if the way he was still watching in rapt fascination was any indication.

  And then, finally, his head fell back and he leaned in, grabbing two handfuls of my ass as his pace quickened. I hugged him to me, holding on and trying desperately to draw him closer, though the feat was impossible. Oh, my God, he felt so good moving inside me, but when he pressed his forehead to my shoulder, that was when the show really began.

  Shaw’s warm breath washed over my bare skin, his fingers dug into the cheeks of my ass, and the muted grunt of each thrust struck right to my core. And right behind him was my new friend, the mirror.

  The tail of his dress shirt was in my way, and I couldn’t have that. I spread my thighs wider, slipping my arms under his and grappling with his shirt, bunching it up in my hands and revealing the treasure it had attempted to hide. The two dimples at the bottom of Shaw’s back congratulated me on my find, while the muscles of his ass clenched and relaxed in time with his thrusts.

  “Holy shit,” I half-whispered, half-moaned, but it didn’t distract Shaw in the least. Neither was he distracted when I bit into his shoulder, though the deeper thrusts were sort of a clue that he’d liked it.

  I should’ve been disgruntled when he pulled back and took my view away, but when it became clear he’d done so to get his grind on—a grind that I got to watch—I was quite all right with it. And hello? Shaw manscaped, so it was soft, hot skin on my engorged clit while a fat, juicy cock was stroking my insides into a knotted-up frenzy of sensation after sensation.

  “You like that?” he asked, and then he nipped at my lip. “Watch me, Cassidy. Watch me fuck you and know that it’s my dick inside you.”

  Shaw pulled almost all the way out then and pushed back in, grinding his groin against my clit again and again. When I made a desperate sound, he put his mouth to my ear. “You want to come on my cock?”

  I bit my lip and clutched him to me, trying like hell to find some sort of purchase with my fingers in his back. The angle granted me the view of his clenching ass again, and I held on tight, letting it feed the need inside me. He smelled so good, and felt so perfect, and looked so sexy. And I swear I could hear my own heartbeat thumping in my chest, the pressure of all that blood taking aim at one spot in the very core of my being and feeding it, and feeding it, and feeding it until it spilled over and flooded my extremities with the unbelievable sensation of my orgasm.

  I bore down, the walls of my pussy pulsing with each wave, squeezing the thick cock still moving inside me. Shaw felt it, too, and he rode it out, taking full advantage.

  The plane started to shake, and I panicked, but Shaw looked at me and shook his head. “I’m not stopping,” he said so fast I barely heard him.

  Leaning back, he watched again as he fucked me, harder and faster, his thrusts becoming shallower. The plane could be falling out of the air for all we knew, and Shaw was still fucking me. The expression on his face was so concentrated, so driven to chase the euphoria that must have been right at his fingertips. We could die before he ever captured it, but he’d use his last breath to make sure he did. What was it about his devil-may-care attitude, his putting his pleasure before our safety that turned me on so much?

  Shaw pulled out, stroking his cock with the same pace and intensity until he gave a grunt and his release spilled onto my pussy in spurting streams. I almost wanted to cheer for his success, but I didn’t have the energy. With a heavy sigh, I rested my head against the mirror behind me, trying to get my heart under control. The turbulence had stopped, the threat to our lives now at bay, but my concern was whether the angry jarring had been enough to wake Denver.

  Shaw must have been concerned, too, because he was grabbing washcloths from the cabinet and getting them wet in the sink beside me. The first he handed off to me, and then he used the other to clean himself up. Once he’d done a thorough job, he went to work on straightening his clothes.
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  I had to admit, Shaw had always been meticulous about his appearance. I could tell he took great pride in how he looked, which said a lot. Luckily for him, he was naturally flawless to begin with.

  “Oh,” I said, spotting something on his shoulder. “Sorry. Some of my makeup must have rubbed off.”

  “It’s okay,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve got a jacket.”

  A groggy Denver stirred in the room next to us, and I went stiff.

  Shaw laughed, though quietly. “I’ll slip out and go check on him. You get yourself together and come out when you’re done.”

  “Wait. Why are you being so nice?” I asked warily.

  He fastened his belt and looked in the mirror, running his fingers through his hair. “Because now that I’ve fucked you, I know there’s no chance you’ll be fucking him tonight.”

  My mouth must have dropped open in shock, because Shaw pushed my chin up and then gave a chaste kiss to my lips. “Don’t take too long,” he said, opening the door and leaving before I could get my vocal cords to form any of the profanity I was mentally screaming at him.

  Oh, my God. I was having an illicit affair with Beelzebub.

  CHAPTER 14

  Shaw

  Detroit had pulled out all the stops for Denver’s arrival. Of course, I’d known they would. After all, that was where I’d learned to do the same. It wasn’t every day a superstar quarterback who could have his pick of teams offered his undivided attention, so when he did, you’d better damn well appeal to the things that were most important to him. For Denver, that was money and notoriety.

  A chauffeured Escalade picked us up from the airport and drove us to the stadium, where every major decision maker imaginable was on standby, waiting to greet us. They were all smiles, prepared to say yes to anything Denver might ask for, even if it was their current number one’s head on a silver platter. The owner’s box was loaded down with a buffet fit for a king, while talks of every perk imaginable were flung at Denver from every direction. Dollar signs, dollar signs, dollar signs, and lots of ego stroking. I was surprised there weren’t women stationed under the table to suck off the man of the hour on top of all that, though having a few of the team’s most glamorous cheerleaders arrayed around the room made up for the oversight.