Elite Metal-ARE-epub (61 page)

Here, no one even knew who she was.

As the evening dragged on, her regret grew. And the regret over the missed chance at a mind-blowing release far outweighed any regret she had over screwing up her recon by rushing her fences. By the end of her shift, she was in a wad, cranky, annoyed and her feet hurt like hell.

If she ever wriggled out from under Marcus’ thumb and had a chance at another career, it would not be waitressing. It was too damn much work.

At least the tips were good, she thought as she counted out her ones. They would have been better, she’d been told by several gruff and bearded patrons, if she showed a little more of her titties.

That was not going to happen. The groping was bad enough as it was.

The activity in the bar wound down to a crawl after last call. Roni was bummed when she glanced at his table to find it empty. The regret roiled again and she told it to shut up. There would be other chances. There would.

“All set?” Daryl asked as she shoved the wad of bills into her pocket.

She nodded. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.” She grabbed her purse and fished out her keys and headed out the back door to the parking lot. Her car was in the front, but she always left through the back door to throw the drunk patrons off her scent.

As she rounded the corner, her steps stalled.

Because there he was, leaning against his bike. Waiting for her.

Well, she
hoped
he was waiting for her. When he saw her, he unfolded his long legs and stood.

“Did you change your mind?” she asked, trying for a flippant tone.

His beautiful eyebrow arched. “About what?”

“Taking me home?” Might as well be brash.

He gestured to his bike. “My alternator is shot. I’m waiting for a ride.”

“Ah.” Why disappointment flooded her was a mystery. Or not.

“Was there…an offer on the table?” His voice was a low melody that danced on the skeins of air. It was annoying. And not.

“Hey. I’m not the one who walked away.” She tried not to let her petulance show.

He stepped closer and searched her face. She let him. Not hiding at all. Or not hiding everything. She let her interest show.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Pigtails—”

“Pigtails?”

“Yeah. Pigtails.” He flicked her hair, reminding her how she’d pulled it up. She’d been going for backwoods innocent, but it might have backfired on her. With a harsh movement, she yanked out the rubber bands and her hair fell around her face. His lashes flickered. Something that looked like hunger washed over his features.

“What do you want to get straight?”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t like questions. Pure and simple. Understood?”

The way he said the word, with a thread of dominance in his tone, sent a shiver through her. She lowered her eyes and nodded. “Understood. So…do you? Want to come home with me? No questions asked?”

“Maybe.” He checked his watch. “Looks like my ride isn’t going to show, anyway.”

Hardly the flood of interest she would have preferred. Irritation rippled. “Or I can give you a lift home.” And when his cheek bunched, “Or call you a cab.”

“I’d rather go home with you.” He stepped closer, too close, and pulled her against him. His fingers were harsh on her flesh, his insistence alluring. Yes, this was what she wanted. Something rough. Something ruthless. Something demanding.

Hunger rose in her, swamping her desire to finish this story and get back home. Hell, she could probe him with questions later. After. This need was far more pressing.

When he lowered his head, she caught a whiff of his aftershave and her knees locked. He was tall, muscled and rough around the edges. Just the kind of guy she’d always craved.

His lips touched hers and she nearly collapsed. It was a wild rush, a tumult of sensation. For a starved woman, as she was, it was irresistible. She couldn’t help but kiss him back, a manic frenzy. Her passion seemed to spur his on, and he wrapped himself around her, tipped his head and deepened the kiss. His hands roved over her back, her hips, her ass. Nothing tentative. Nothing tender.

When he lifted his head, she was a bowl of Jell-O. Ready and willing.

“So do you want to?” Her voice caught on the invitation.

“Yeah.” He yanked her tighter and his cock gouged into her belly, hard and needy. “Yeah. I want to. Just no more questions.”

No more questions.

Right.

They didn’t talk at all as she drove to her crappy motel on the outskirts of town. Partly because it took all her concentration to drive with his steamy attention locked on her, and partly because she didn’t know what to say.

It wasn’t her usual way to pick up men for a roll in the hay.

But then, she’d never met a guy like him before.

He was mouthwateringly handsome, with a square-cut jaw speckled with scruff. His eyes were inky pools laced with long lashes and his lips were full and—as she now knew—delicious. But it was more than his sinfully angelic looks that drew her. More than his powerful build, his broad shoulders and muscled thighs.

It was his presence. He was dark and brooding and oozed dominance.

He set his hand on her thigh, just casually; it felt as though he was claiming her. The simple touch sent a bolt of electricity straight to her womb.

Holy God.
She was doing this.

She was going to fuck him.
Him.

Anticipation and trepidation and fear bubbled. But mostly anticipation.

She parked in a slot in the empty lot and shut off the engine. The dim light from the streetlamp filtered into the car. The silence of the night encased them.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

She swallowed and nodded.

He tipped up her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I need to hear it.”

“I’m sure.”

His lips kicked up. “I warn you, I like a rough ride.”

Of course he did. She knew it. She’d known it the second she’d laid eyes on him. “Me too.”

Something shifted in him. He went from being marginally polite and tentative to intense and predatory in a heartbeat. “As long as we both understand.”

She nodded—not trusting her voice to respond—and yanked open her door.

He was right behind her as she led the way into her ratty motel room. For the first time, she wished Deep Ellum had a nicer place. The bedspread and the drapes were faded, the wallpaper peeling and the furniture chipped. But shit, it was perfect for what she had in mind tonight. A hard, hot fuck.

To hell with Marcus and his story. All she wanted was this man in her bed, crawling all over her body. Now.

Apparently, he was of the same mind.

Before she’d even closed the door behind him, he turned her around, plastered her against it and let the force of his body slam it shut. He framed her face in his hands and stared at her for a moment, but only for a moment, and then he kissed her. Hard. Furiously. It was a savage melding of mouths, a hungry passion. His heat surrounded her, sank through to her bones. His scent made her brain short circuit. Thoughts of him on her, in her, howled through like a ruthless forest fire, burning the edges of her restraint.

She tugged at his jacket and he shrugged it off. And then she yanked on the hem of his shirt. Anything, anything to get her hand against his heat. He whipped the tee off and her breath stalled. Holy God. He was beautiful. A vast panoply of rippled muscle, tanned skin and hard flesh.

She flattened her palm on his belly and curled her fingers, sinking her nails into the muscle and sinew. He growled and took hold of the vee of her tee shirt and ripped it off. Ripped it fucking off. Daryl would be pissed but Roni didn’t even care. Because then Steve took her lace-covered breasts in his hands and raked his hard thumb over the nubs of her nipples, sending sensation scalding thorough her. She arched her hips against his, though they were already fused. His cock bit into her belly and she loved it.

His mouth roved over her cheek, her neck, her shoulder and then he licked her collarbone along its length.

She fumbled for his belt buckle, but before she could figure out how to unfasten it, he spun her around and walked her to the bed.

There would be no conversation here. There would be no negotiations or chatter. Just fucking. Hot, hard and savage.

He tossed her onto the bed and then, holding her gaze, untied his leathers, unbuckled his belt, undid his jeans and, toeing off his boots, pulled it all off until he stood before her in nothing but a pair of black briefs.

Her mouth watered.

He bent and retrieved something from his jeans; he held it up so she could see, and then he tossed the foil packet onto the bedside table. Thank God one of them had a smidgen of sanity left.

But he didn’t leap on her, or on the bed. He stood there, looking too tempting for words, and frowned at her.

“Strip.”

Holy fuck.
That word. That tone. What little blood she had left feeding her brain dropped like a stone to her clit. It pounded a delicious tattoo, pulsing with every beat of her heart.

Yeah, it had been a long time. Too long. But she’d never, never, been this horny.

Scrambling like a crazed squirrel, she ripped off her jeans and her panties and started working her bra. Her fingers trembled, so she had some trouble, but she finally slipped it all off. She sat on the edge of the bed and peeped up at him.

His eyes were locked on her breasts. His throat worked. But then he tore his gaze to her face and his lips quirked. He stepped closer, and closer still, until his groin was nearly in her face. “Now me,” he said, but when she lifted her hands to peel the cotton from his body, he shook a finger. “Ah, ah, ah. Teeth.”

She couldn’t hold back a smile. So he liked teeth, did he? So did she.

Leaning closer, she inhaled, taking in his musky scent, the fragrance of man and leather and libido. His cock, molded in the cotton of his briefs, was gorgeous. She couldn’t wait to get her hands, her mouth on it.

Carefully—only scraping his cock a tiny bit with her chin, just enough to annoy him—she took the elastic band in her teeth and tugged. As his cock released, it brushed her cheek and he hissed in a breath.

It was a relief, a vindication, to know he was aching as much as she. That each touch was like a live wire being scraped over raw nerves. She edged down one side and then the other and when he was fully revealed, she leaned back and stared.

He was large and full and the weight pulled him to the left, but his cock was perfect. Thick and veined and beaded with anticipation right at the tip. Unable to resist, she lapped at him and nearly moaned. Salty and creamy and delicious. She took him in her mouth then, because the temptation was far too irresistible, and because she knew he would allow it. She took him in her mouth and sank down on him, reveling in the fullness he gave her. With an animalistic groan he threaded his fingers into her hair and held her there.

Or maybe he was holding her still.

Maybe he didn’t dare allow her to pleasure him too much.

His fingers tightened. “Lie back,” he said, but he didn’t pull her away. As though he couldn’t bear to. She released him with a plop and shot a look at his face.

Ah. That expression. She wanted a photo of it like that. Something to hold on to and ogle every day for the rest of her life. It was gorgeous. Tight and racked with need. Gazing down at her with a feral hunger.

“Lie back.” Harsher, with almost a desperate tinge.

She smiled, something snarky, like a smirk. And did. Anticipating…

But he didn’t climb on top of her. Didn’t wrench her legs apart and shove himself inside as she craved. Instead, he knelt before her and took her knees, yanking her to the edge of the bed. Before she realized what he had in mind, he had her legs over his shoulders and had buried his face between her legs and God—

He lapped.

He lapped and licked and explored her in a leisurely fashion, murmuring and moaning when he found her arousal. He slid a finger into her waiting body and she clenched. He yanked it out and shoved in two, as though the first had been but a probe.

The second was nothing of the sort. He played her, stroking her, inside and out, rubbing her into a frenzy of passion. She knew she was not long for this world. Resistance was futile.

Indeed, when he filled her again, he found that spot deep within where her nerves hummed and screamed, and she collapsed in on herself as bliss flooded her. She bit her lip to hold back her cries, but her body spoke for her, shuddering and twitching and clenching in spasm after spasm of absolute freaking rapture.

She hadn’t even finished when he pulled out and mounted her. He still had her ankles over his shoulders, so when he rose, he held on to her calves and lifted her and sank the fuck home.

Oh, she’d thought she’d felt rapture before? That was nothing—nothing—compared to this. His cock was hard and demanding. No foreplay, just snarling heat as he sluiced in and out in a manic, mind-bending rhythm. Heat rose within her, coiled into a tight knot at her core. Pressure mounted as he slammed into her again and again, gritting his teeth and clenching her leg and working his hips like a pile driver.

He hit her and hit her deep. Hard. Right where it counted. Again and again.

Her breath seized. Her heart pounded. Her body wailed.

Another wave of ecstasy crested. He snarled an invective as she closed around him. He held still until he could move again and then, when he did, it was with a crazed frenzy. His thrusts became faster. His lunges deeper. His movements erratic. Bestial.

He sealed their bodies together, mashing his pubic bone against her. Grinding against her clit in a way that set her off again. His cock swelled inside her. Jerked. His features clenched and he gave a heartfelt groan that shook the room. And then he released her, body and soul. He released her and collapsed at her side.

It had been fast and furious. And without a doubt, the best fuck she’d ever had.

As he pulled her into his arms and kissed her brow, she closed her eyes and memorized this moment. Just one night, she’d promised herself. Just one fuck.