Misconduct (Hot Ice series Book 6) (8 page)

Suddenly he snapped me tight against him, wrapped his arms
around my waist and set me flush against his body.

“And I wish I
didn’t
fucking want you,” he said, his
jaw tightening, the syllables seeming to struggle to get out from between his
gritted teeth.

He wished he
didn’t
want me? Those words ping-ponged
around my mind. What did he mean? That he
did
want me, the way I wanted
him, even though it made no sense?

I went up on my toes and cradled the back of his head. I
stared into his eyes, looking for answers. His pupils were wide despite the
sunshine, and desire flamed within them. Yes, I’d been right, he did want me,
exactly the same way I had to have him. Now.

I kissed him. With the same furious passion he’d inflicted
on me in the hotel. For a horrendous moment I thought I’d made a God almighty
mistake—his lips were still, his tongue flat. But then he melted, opened up and
let me in.

He groaned, dipped his tongue into my mouth and slid his
hand up my back to my hair, bunching his fingers in my casual updo.

Like before, his kiss transported me to a wild place where
anything could happen. I writhed against him and was aware of his cock
hardening against my stomach. It thrilled me that he was turned-on by me. Big,
tough Dustin was hot for a bit of action with little old me. Bring it on.

“Fuck,” he muttered against my lips.

“Okay,” I gasped.

In an instant my world turned upside down. My belly pressed
into his shoulder and I flailed my arms before gripping his waistband at the
back, in the hollow of his spine.

“Hey. What the hell are you doing?” I shouted, kicking my
legs but then freezing when his big hand slapped down on my ass and stayed
there.

“What I just suggested,” he said, striding, almost jogging
in the direction of the villa.

I stared at the blur of sand whizzing past. I was bobbing in
a quite ungainly fashion on his shoulder and tried to keep a grip on my bag as
it dangled by his legs.

“Dustin,” I shouted. “For fuck’s sake, put me down. What are
you, a damn caveman?” He was pressing on my ass with considerable force, having
a bit of a grope too.

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, sweet cheeks,” he said,
reaching the deck at what felt like breakneck speed. I grunted as he jumped
onto it, unable to control the rush of air from my lungs.

“But I…argh!” I cried out as the horizon skimmed over my
vision and I found myself on the Bali bed outside the lounge doors, looking up
at the fronds of a palm, my arms and legs spread-eagled.

Thank goodness the mattress was the best quality—nice and
soft. He’d literally thrown me onto it, from quite a height too.

“You drive me crazy,” he said with a frown as he shoved at
his shoes. They hit the deck with two solid bangs. “Fucking crazy, woman.”

He movements were desperate, frenzied, and I watched as he
popped the buttons on his jeans and shoved them off. His boxers came down, the
material all caught up as one.

I swallowed and stared at his erection springing from his
black-as-night pubic hair.

But I didn’t get a long study, because he threw his hat
aside and dropped over me, his hands roaming my body, sending sparks of lust
through me with each new inch he explored. His cock nudged my outer thigh and
the heat of his skin burned into mine, fever-like.

“We should stop fighting this,” he said against my lips and
then kissed me again hard. So hard I could barely breathe and our teeth tapped
several times.

“Yes,” I managed when he swept his tongue down my neck and
then nipped my skin. “Stop. Fighting.”

He suddenly reared up, wrapped his fingers in the waistband
of my bikini bottoms and dragged them and my sarong from my body.

“Get it out of our systems,” he said, chucking my clothing
to one side with a flick of his wrist. “This stupid desire for one another.”

“Yes, it’s stupid, I don’t even like you…”

“And I don’t like you. Not at all.” He was between my legs,
his cock nudging my entrance. He pushed in a little but his entry was
difficult. He was big, I was small.

I tried to relax though it was impossible. I was so
turned-on, and also mad as hell that I wanted him so much when we were the most
incompatible couple ever.

He locked his elbows, his hands on either side of my head,
dipped his head and stared down at his cock prodding my folds. Showing no
mercy, he curled his hips under and forged forward in one fast plunge. Claiming
me, owning me, burying himself balls deep.

“Ah, shit,” I panted, arching my back and gripping his
biceps. Pain mixed with pleasure. Heat poured through me. He’d made me feel so
full, so full of him and all that passion and fury and desperation that had
ignited between us.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” he groaned, screwing his eyes up tight.
“Fucking…too good.”

“More,” I gasped. “Give me more.”

He pulled out, shunted back in. Then repeated the action
again, catching my clit and all my internal sweet spots perfectly.

“Ah yeah, that’s it. I’m really fucking you now,” he said,
dropping down and kissing my collarbone. “Really fucking, fucking you.”

His words jammed in my mind. “No,” I managed, shoving as
hard as I could at his shoulders. “No.”

I must have taken him by surprise with my vehemence. He
tipped off me, falling out of me, landing on his back with a shocked expression
on his face.

I slid over him, set my legs on either side of his waist and
prepared to take his cock back into my pussy. “
I’m
fucking
you
,”
I said, setting my palms on his chest and locking my elbows. “Got it.
I’m
fucking
you
. Ah, yeah…”

I took him deep until he was nudging my cervix, then began
to grind, working my clit on his coarse pubic hair and the hardness beneath.

He gripped my thighs, pressing his head into the pillow and
gritting his teeth. I wondered how near the edge he was. Pressure was building
in me, delicious, needy pressure.

I flung my head back, letting the sunshine scorch my face as
I bounced and gyrated on his cock. My orgasm was just there, another few
seconds and sweet relief would be mine. I was gasping, panting, my spine
weakening as the explosive pleasure built.

Then it stopped. One quick twist and a flip and I was on my
stomach, my cheek bunching on the starched white pillow and once again
wondering which way up I was in the world.

“Screw you,” he muttered by my ear and then bit it, quite
hard.

I groaned in complaint and in delight, a sharp nip when I
was so turned-on was luscious. But I’d been so close…

“No…screw
you
,” I managed, spreading my legs and
increasing the dip in my back. Inviting him in.

He took the offer, moved between my legs and pushed his cock
into my pussy again.

I fisted the sheet, moaning loud and abandoned as he shoved
right in, nudging up against my G-spot perfectly and stretching me from a
wholly different angle.

“This is it,” he said, “just one fuck to get it out of our
systems, okay?” He bunched my hair in his fist, yanking and twisting my head to
the side. “All right? Just one.”

“Yes, oh, yes.” I arched my spine, loving the possessive
hold he had on my hair. “I just have to get you out of my damn system, Dustin.
I don’t want to want you like this.”

“And I don’t want to want you, sweet cheeks.” He barged into
me with extra force, shunting us both up the bed. “But fuck, you feel good.” He
kissed me, kind of. Both of our concentrations were elsewhere and our lips
could barely move together. We were just panting into each other’s mouths.

“Come,” he grunted, “now.”

I shoved my right hand down between the mattress and my
stomach, hunted lower, sought out my clit and rotated it to the same frantic
tempo he was blasting into me.

The added pressure of his body weight buffeting me with each
thrust increased the pressure on my clit and within seconds I was spiraling
through ecstasy. My climax was a big, glorious starburst of sensation that
glittered behind my eyelids and set all my nerves on fire.

“Oh fuck, here it is,” Dustin groaned, grasping my left hand
in his and squeezing it tight. “Ah, ah, oh fucking hell…”

He froze with his balls shoved up against my pussy lips and
pumped out his release. His breaths were a storm in my ear. I could hardly
expand my lungs because of his crushing weight over me.

My pussy contracted over and over around his cock. I jerkily
continued to fret my clit, eking out every last ounce of pleasure.

“Oh yeah,” he moaned, pulling out and slipping back in.
“Keep hugging me with your cunt, it’s fucking amazing.”

I did, but not consciously, it was the intensity of the
orgasm that had the pleasure extending and the spasms continuing.

Finally he stilled, but stayed lying heavily on me.

“Get up,” I managed. “I can hardly breathe.”

“Fuck, sorry.”

He lifted, pulled out but stayed sitting between my legs.

I gulped in air, twisted my head and neck into a more
natural position and settled my face on a pillow. Wow, that had been intense. More
than intense, it had been incredible. Well worth getting out of my system.

He put his hands on my ass, one on each buttock and swept
over them, pushing them out and then together. “These damn sweet cheeks were my
undoing,” he murmured, almost as if to himself.

I wondered if there was a hint of irritation in his voice
but I was too floppy to do anything about it and instead just sucked in a
lungful of air then sighed.

“Too fucking sexy by far,” he went on, “and certainly too
hot to belong to a woman who thinks she’s my boss.”

I had to reply to that one. But I kept my eyes closed, my
head resting. “I
am
your boss.”

He didn’t answer. Instead he kissed over my ass, into the
small of my back and then down through the crack between my butt cheeks.

I re-gripped the sheet, opened my eyes. Oh God. I felt so on
display, so vulnerable. My pussy was spread before him, his cum leaking from my
slit, and my anus… He wasn’t going to… Oh fuck, he was.

Why was I surprised? This was Dustin Reed I was naked with.

He licked over my tight pucker, his tongue exploring
carefully before heading a little lower, to the soft patch of skin near my
entrance.

I wriggled and groaned. It felt good, really fucking good.
I’d just orgasmed but he had me buzzing for more again. Who would have thought
that
would feel so erotic?

He traveled his tongue back up, gave my asshole more
attention and then sucked and nipped at my buttocks, the palms of his hands
swooping over my flesh in big sweeps.

I fluttered my eyes shut, relaxed my spine and gave myself
over to him. He was spreading butterfly kisses up my back now, adoring each one
of my vertebrae. This was the last moment we would connect like this. It was a
one-time-only fuck. To get it out of our systems, that was all.

I should make the most of this bittersweet, post-coital
moment, park it in a to-be-remembered-forever folder in my memory.

He settled next to me a few moments later and shut his eyes.
I allowed myself to drift off to sleep—stark naked, on my stomach with my legs
spread to the sea breeze.

I was sure I looked well and truly fucked, but hey, I was. I
couldn’t dispute that, or had I been the fucker? I couldn’t remember. It didn’t
seem important now who had fucked whom.

We just had.

Soon my dreams stole me away, the sound of the birds became
the sound of a puck
pinging
off a goalpost, the heat turned to ice cold
and a mountain of fans appeared around me, all looking for the team, demanding
to know where they’d gone. What had I done with them? Why had the best players
left? Why were the Vipers bottom of the league? Why? Why? Why?

I tried to explain, searched the sea of faces for my father,
for Mike, for Ramrod. Eventually I saw Dustin, called his name but he was
walking away. I pushed forward through the swarm of arms and shoulders, chasing
him, trying to reach him. I could just make out his head and shoulders rising
above the crowd, but he was moving fast, I couldn’t keep up.

Someone stuck their leg out. I saw them do it, on purpose,
to trip me up. I fell, hands outstretched into the shadows around everyone’s
feet. All I could see were shoes, shoes that were moving, trying to kick me,
jab me.

I started. A sudden jump that made me aware of the bed
beneath me and the end of the dream.

Opening my eyes, I saw the light had dimmed and the sky was
flaming orange and pink. I turned onto my back, propped myself on my elbows and
studied several skinny black clouds that were slicing the horizon like long
branches.

A blanket covered me—the Aztec-patterned one from the
lounge. Dustin must have laid it there when he’d moved away.

Yawning, I spotted my discarded bikini bottoms and sarong
folded neatly on the bottom of the bed. I reached for them, threw the cover off
and quickly slipped them on.

I winced as I spotted my grazed knee. It definitely hadn’t helped
going for it in a squashed doggy-style position. The skin around the cut was
red and inflamed and the graze looked as if it had bled some more. I probably
should clean it properly, put a bandage on it.

There was a first-aid box indoors, so I pulled on my top,
got up and wandered into the shadows of the villa, wondering where Dustin was.

It was deathly quiet. No shower running, no TV, no music or
banging kitchen cupboards.

My stomach rumbled as I passed the fridge and I realized I’d
hardly eaten anything all day, and after all that exertion too. I’d rustle up
some dinner in a minute. That had to be the next priority.

After quickly seeing to my knee and using the bathroom, I
searched the fridge. There was smoked fish and salad. I decided to cook a pepper
risotto to go with it.

I plonked the ingredients on the counter, feeling relaxed,
at ease. I was a little tender between my legs, but I smiled to myself,
enjoying the sensation and remembering the wild orgasm I’d shared with Dustin.

Dustin?

A noise coming from the corridor, one of the bedrooms,
caught my attention. I headed toward it.

At the second doorway, the one next to mine, I paused and
peered in.

Dustin was sitting on the end of the bed, his face in his
hands. His whole posture screamed torment, despair, misery. Despite his size he
seemed small.

“You okay?” I asked, stepping into the room.

He sighed.

“Dustin?”

“No, not really.”

My hand itched to rest on his shoulder, give him comfort.
But something stopped me. I was the cause of his distress that much I could
guess. Whether it was because he regretted what we’d done or because of his
contract I wasn’t sure.

“You want to talk about it?”

He dropped his hands from his face. There were lines on his
cheeks. He must have been sitting like that for ages. “You must really fucking
hate me now, huh?”

I shook my head. “No, no I don’t hate you.”

“Jesus, you should.” He straightened, clenching his fists
and setting them on his wide thighs.

I said nothing, just twiddled with the knot on my sarong and
studied the width of his shoulders. They were a little red, he’d caught the
sun.