He jerks, filling me. And those twitches set me off on a softer, lighter orgasm.
When he’s done, he dips his head and kisses me. Without pulling out, he lifts his head once more, a glint in his eye as he murmurs, “Not a virgin anymore, wifey.”
NINE
declan
Of courseit’s the wrong thing to say. She shoves me, pushing me off. And I tuck myself away, leaving my pants undone as she gets up and stalks across the hotel room.
For a moment I lie there, propping myself up with one hand, admiring the sleek lines of Marlowe’s form, her muscles, the lines of her dancer’s body, the suppleness of her.
She’s angry. Molly’s always angry at me, which is fine by me because I’m a little angry at her, too.
The lass could have asked me, she could have called me to chew me out or done any number of things. I told her I’d explain, and sure, ghosting her wasn’t the finest idea known to man, but I was just having a bit of fun with her. No great love story, just a pretty girl and a boner in my pants every time she brushed past, and she did that a lot.
The club was a place where I had to hang out to meet Emily. I had to go for a long time and be seen having fun, to show I wasn’t a threat, just a party guy. The mob boss’s daughter had a penchant for bad boys, and it was a way to get into her father’s inner sanctum. The job tailor-made for me. The club scene’s my jam…or was, especially a few years ago.
It was the kind of job I still thrive on. Fly by the seat of my pants, go with the flow to reach my goal. Simple. Get in, get trusted, and then we’d take them down if they didn’t stop playing for one bratva and stay on the side of the Irish in the neutral zone.
Either that or…bye-bye club and business, and hello hell.
It’s neither here nor there, but they played it smartly.
Of course, Emily never spoke to me again after that. All we did was share a couple of kisses, and by then I had no interest in pretty Marlowe.
Scratch that, my dick had plenty of interest. I personally didn’t. Who wanted a spoiled brat who thought having fun meant “relationship”? And when things didn’t go her way, got me thrown in jail?
Fuck that.
Of course, now I get why she was so hung up on a kiss and fingering in the back of a club. Makes a lot more sense to know she was a virgin.
It’s not enough for me to forgive her and want to crack open the past. But it makes sense.
I get up, stalk over to her, and spin her so she has to face me. The hurt in her eyes is real.
“You’re the one who fooled me into thinking there was something between us and then…there wasn’t.” She pauses. “You’re right. Sex is good when it’s tinged with hate. Just don’t expect it again. Fake marriage or not.”
She’s right there. I shouldn’t. And I shouldn’t want to. My dick’s an idiot and disagrees. One whiff of her rose and peony scent clinging to my skin and I’m halfway hard again.
“You know, Molly, I’m not sorry for fucking you. I’ve wanted to since we met. I figured you weren’t overly experienced and…” I suck in a breath. I refuse to question the real reasons why I didn’t fuck her in the bathroom, inthe darkest corner of the dance floor, in my car, because I don’t know if I’m ready to examine them. “I wish I’d taken more time with you, is all.”
Her eyes blaze. “I liked it almost as much as I dislike you.”
I kiss her. “How about I show you something slower and you can then take your fury out on me?”
I want to get to the bed, I do, but she shoves me hard, and I stumble backward and land on the sofa.
She stands over me, still gloriously naked, so perfect I’m completely hard and aching like I didn’t just come.
The little camera I took is in Tor’s hands. I’m not good at tech, I’m good at sex, strategic thinking, animals, and getting in and out of hot water. What others call being reckless, I call innovative.
And right now, I’m sure fucking Molly is pretty fucking innovative.
She looks like she doesn’t know if she wants to kill me or bone me.
Maybe it’s that combination of both. The hate part’s been there since we met again, but this time it’s amped right up to kill-zone level.
Which is fucking beyond hot.
