Bad Idea: Bad Boy Romantic Comedy (Dante Brothers Book 2) Page 6

  “I’m tired of good ideas, Trey,” she said softly in the darkness. “I want a bad one.”

  “That’d be me.”

  “Right. You have bad ideas. Good bad ideas.”

  I gave a low laugh. “This one was yours, Cass.”

  “You were flashing the dildo at me the whole wedding.”

  “That was probably a mistake,” I said slowly.

  “So what? What does it matter?”

  “It matters because you’re pressing your ass into my dick right now.”

  Her body jerked on a hot little gasp.

  Stop it, dude. All you’re going to do is break her heart.

  “I’m seriously contemplating this bad idea,” she said. Both of us were standing in the darkness, facing forward, like we were spies in a movie, like we didn’t even realize the other person was there. “And if you were thinking it too…”

  “I’m thinking it.” I was more than thinking it. In my mind, I already had her bent over the table.

  “Then maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,” she said softly.

  “It’d be bad.”

  “Yeah. But also, really, really good.” She hesitated. “I need a little bad in my life.”

  “I’m a whole lot of bad, Cass. For you.”

  She jerked her head around, until her chin was over her shoulder. In the dim snow light coming in through the high window, her eyes shone with little gleams as she glared up at me. “Don’t be like them,” she said fiercely.

  “Uh oh.”

  “I’m sick of everyone thinking I’m so good and sweet and can’t handle anything. Like I’m pure driven snow.”

  “You are,” I said roughly. “And the rest of us are walking through with dirty boots.”

  She turned her whole body, so her hip was against me. She kept it there, pressing hard. Teasing me. Testing me. “I’m tired of people thinking I’ll be ruined by everything. I’m tired of getting…missed.”

  Our eyes held. “I’m pretty aware of you right now, baby.”

  “Good,” she whispered. Under my hands, which were still curled around her hips, she was trembling. She wanted it so bad she was shaking. I felt electric. “So why not?”

  I muttered a curse and slid my hand up the front of her body, wide-palmed her breast. She jerked as I kept going up and circled my fingers around her throat.

  Panted breaths slipped out past those red-parted lips. I put my mouth beside her ear.

  “Because I will fuck you so hard you’ll forget how to breathe,” I rasped. “I will break you open. You’ll cry and scream, and you’ll never forget. I will own you, and I will wreck you. That’s fucking why.”

  I dropped a hard, open-mouthed kiss on her lips, forced her willing mouth wide and pushed my tongue inside, stroking her deep and hard, once, twice, a third time. It was a dominating, demanding kiss, going in like I was mining her for gold, giving her a little taste of what she was asking for.

  Then I ripped my mouth away.

  Breath coming fast, she stared at me. She looked stunned. Her legs wobbled and I gripped her hips tighter for a second, holding her up.

  “Got it?” I said darkly.

  “I got it,” she whispered.

  I took my hands off her hips and reached past her for the door.

  Her hand came out and curled around my forearm. I stilled.

  “Here’s the thing, Trey,” she said, and her silky body whispered in the darkness as she turned to me. “I don’t want to recover.” She slid her hands up my chest and hooked them behind my neck. “And I don’t ever want to forget.”

  Fuck. I hated sacrificial people.

  For half a second, I did nothing. Then, harsh and low, I muttered, “Aw, hell,” and my arms went around her and I hauled her up against me and kissed her like I’d been wanting to do for a long fucking time.

  10

  IT WAS A RECKLESS, hot, unrelenting kiss. It started in high speed and never let up. Our mouths were slanting, hard, almost angry kisses, our tongue tangling, our hands everywhere, attacking each other.

  Still kissing me, Trey leaned back and flipped the lock on the door, his hands roaming all over me. His fingers curled around the bottom of my dress and started pulling it up. I was tugging at the buttons of his shirt, flipping them open. I wanted to feel him everywhere. I wanted his skin on mine.

  Our breath was a reckless rhythm in the room, pressured, fast, uneven.

  He lifted his head and tugged off his jacket, tossed it behind him into the darkness. Waves of excitement rolled through me. I opened my mouth to breathe.

  “Know what I liked?” His voice was rough and dark, sexy as hell.

  “What?”

  “Your ass felt real good up against my dick. Turn around.”

  Excitement smashed through me, almost made me come. He turned me, his legs hard against the back of mine as he propelled me forward in the darkness to one of the tables.

  “Put your hands on the table,” he ordered.

  I did as he said.

  “Don’t move,” he whispered in my ear, and in the darkness, his hands started sliding my dress up.

  The breath burst from me in a hot gasp.

  In the wash of wintery light, I turned and watched Trey push my slinky red dress up to my hips, his hard hands wrapped around it, crushing the silk.

  So. Good.

  He bunched it with his fist and slid his other hand, open-palmed, up the back of my thigh.

  I made a sound of panted pleasure.

  “You’re wearing garters,” he said in a low growl.

  His body was hot as he leaned forward, his chest against my back, his mouth by my ear.

  “Don’t make a sound.”

  I almost fainted.

  Heat, curling hot hard jerks of it, yanked through my body as he skimmed his fingers up my ass, then down the seam of my bottom, his finger pushing into the crease, then he pushed them through everything that was wet and slippery in me, a long stroke all the way to my clit. I flung my head and gave a broken cry.

  He released the dress and let it slump around his forearm and put his other hand around my neck, arching it back. His breath was hot on the side of my face.

  “Quiet, or I’ll stop.”

  “Please don’t stop.”

  He moved his hand and pushed a thick, hard finger up inside me.

  I couldn’t help it, I cried out, then immediately dropped my head and bit my lip. I spread my hands on the long table with purses and discarded phones, and bent over, pushed my ass up for him. I felt him shift away, then he went down to his knees behind me, his hands spread on my thighs, and he put his mouth to me.

  I threw my head and screamed.

  Thank God he didn’t mean it about stopping, because I would have died.

  His tongue was sweet and searching. His hands laid on my bottom and spread me wide, and he licked me. My body ricocheted. I stamped my foot, and his hand slid between my legs, pushed them wider, and I whispered his name.

  He didn’t let up. He did the opposite, in fact, despite his warning, and slid two fingers inside me, real hard, then slowed the pace.

  Strokes, sweet, short, over and over, one hand gripping my thigh, the other working his fingers deep inside me.

  “Please Trey,” I breathed around the shudder moving through my body.

  He pushed them in with a deep, slippery hard shove. “Like that?”

  “Please, yes.”

  He worked me good. Sweet, teasing, shallow strokes, slippery and taunting short, Trey curling his fingers as he slid them inside me, then lifting a little as he drew them back out. I moved restlessly, spread my legs as far as they would go, tipped my bottom way up, and begged for more.

  “You look good in these heels, baby,” he murmured, his hand moving against my sex.

  “It’s too dark to see,” I said in a broken pant.

  “I’m seeing everything.” Then he did what I wanted, a deep plunge, two fingers pushed up inside me, so hard.

  “Please
.”

  My knees were about to buckle. He must have felt it, because he pushed me up against the table and kept me there, pinned for his pleasure, stroking me with that insane rhythm, multiple shallow strokes, then, when I was crying for more, giving it to me, hard and deep.

  I became a constantly moving ocean of desire. My hips rocked, my hands fisted on the table, occasionally banging down hard, my body angling to receive every lash of his tongue and fingers. He changed the rhythm, started working me with more of the deep pushes, one after the other, until my forehead was down on the table and I was crying, my legs spread as far as he could get them.

  He rose behind me and curved his body over my back, gripped my hair in a fist with one hand and slowly pulled my head back, my neck arched hard, my throat like a sacrifice in the dim wintery glow of the room.

  “You want me to fuck you?” he asked.

  “I will die if you don’t fuck me.”

  He gave a low laugh.

  Then his other hand came down low and he pushed the dildo across my pussy. “Want that?”

  Oh my God.

  Fiery bolts of pleasure shot across my body like a star exploding. “Please.”

  “You never used one of these before, have you, Cassidy?” he asked, real slow and casual, like he was wondering if I used social media.

  I shook my head wildly.

  He slid it all around me, getting it wet, the thick glass head, then the tiny one for the back. My body rocked to take it all.

  “You look fine, baby.”

  “I feel very fine.”

  He curved his body overtop mine. “Want it?” he asked, a low rasp.

  “I want it.”

  “How?”

  “Hard. Please.”

  “First this thing’s going to fuck you, baby, then I am.”

  My body shook. I was dizzy and fired up and alive.

  “You can see which you like better.”

  I jerked around a pulse of pleasure.

  “First your pussy, then your ass.”

  I whispered some nonsensical, broken sound.

  “You’re never going to recover.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he murmured, then pushed the thick glass dildo up inside me, spreading me open.

  I sobbed from the pleasure.

  Slow and deliberate, he pushed it in deeper, his breath a hot threat in my ear.

  “You want more?”

  “More.”

  “How much more?”

  “So…much…more.” I could barely speak.

  “Ask me for it. Tell me what you want.”

  “Please fuck me, Trey.”

  He made a dark, male grunt of satisfaction and plunged it in with deeper strokes, not playing with me now. He was working me hard. I’d become his mission. I felt the pressure at my anus, and he pushed it inside.

  My knees definitely buckled this time.

  He pushed his body against mine to keep me propped between the table and him, then tugged my head back with one hand, so I could see him, then with his other hand, his arm hanging down the back of my body, he fucked me with that thing.

  “Like it up your ass?”

  I rolled my forehead on the table, making ridiculous, broken sounds of pleasure.

  “I need it,” I whispered.

  “Keep telling me you like it.”

  “I want it. I like it. Like it so…much…can’t…handle it.”

  “Fuck,” it was a long, slow sound, and he slid the dildo out of me.

  I reached a hand back wildly. “No, please.”

  “Now you can compare,” he said, and I heard him unzipper his pants, slide on a condom, and then he fucked me good.

  Sounds of mayhem from the banquet hall outside the room meant nothing. I was a vessel for his pleasure. He leaned us over the table, his breath in my hair, my head turned to the side to meet his dark eyes. His body moved in hard thrusts as he watched me watch him.

  He turned his hand over and, real gently, rested the backs of his fingers on my cheek and pushed my face to the table. Sweet, coaxing, irresistible pressure. He wanted me down. He curled his other hand around my hip and yanked me up.

  I sobbed from the pleasure.

  His thumb circled my bottom, then he slid it through the wetness drenching me, wetting himself, and slid it between my ass, and pushed up inside me.

  I threw my head and keened.

  He laid his palm over my mouth, not heavy, but not light either, and I arched my neck and pressed my mouth into his hand, letting him muffle my cries.

  Which only made me gasp and cry out louder. Because I could. Because Trey was holding me.

  It was all hard then, no mercy as he banged me against the table. His thighs were firm against the back of mine on every pump, his arms stretched out beside me, a barrier between me and the world. My hands curled helplessly around the far side of the table. I’d have bruises on my hips come morning, but I didn’t care. I’d take bruises on every part of my body, even my heart, as long as he kept going.

  If he stopped, I was pretty sure my world would stop.

  Hot, tense coils of pleasure rose inside me. I started gasping in broken, uneven breaths.

  “Oh God,” I whispered wildly, pushing back to him. “Oh God.”

  “You gonna come for me, baby?” he whispered.

  “Yes, yes, please, don’t stop.”

  “Keep begging me.”

  “Oh God…please don’t…stop….”

  His hand covered my mouth again as my cries got louder. His body pressed me to the table, the hair on his thighs scraping the back of my legs as his hand slid around the front. His finger started stroking my clit, long, hard lashes, his breath hot in my ear as he fucked me every way. There was no reprieve from the pleasure. I felt like I’d been strung up on lightning bolts.

  “Let me hear it, Cass,” he growled in my ear, and rolled his dick into me again, high and hard.

  My head flung back and an orgasm exploded through me in a clenching, shuddering wave. I came harder than I’d ever even dreamed of doing.

  I cried into his palm, screaming, really, broken and alive. His body tensed and his hips started rolling against me in hard, jerking, uneven thrusts, then he straightened suddenly.

  “Fuck, Cass,” he rasped, and then he came.

  Even with the condom, I felt the surging power of him. I spread my legs wider, my forehead rolling on the table he pounded into me again and again, penetrating, rough thrusts, one hand spread over my back, the other gripping my hip, lifting me as he kept taking me. My body shuddered on the hard pleasure that rolled through me in unbroken waves. I think I wept.

  After a long time, maybe years, his pace slowed. He lowered his body and curved it over mine, an elbow on either side of me, his forearms stretched out, then he brought them in and tangled his hard fingers in mine. He held them, clasped together, in front of my panting face.

  His bared chest, between the unbuttoned shirt, was hot against me, his cock heavy inside me.

  I felt like I’d attained perfection.

  Merry Christmas.

  “Hey,” he said in my ear. “You still there?”

  “I went away there for a little bit,” I admitted. My voice was rasping and rough, like I’d been shouting at a football game.

  “You back now?”

  I lifted our entwined hands then let them flop back to the table. “I’m waiting for someone. He’s a Ranger. Very dangerous. You should leave before he sees you.”

  He laughed, low in his chest, then peeled his body off mine in degrees, slowly straightening, pulling out of me, helping me to rise too.

  I turned to him. The darkness felt less dark now. Our eyes had adjusted, but I felt like maybe my heart had been adjusted too.

  I felt like I’d been woke up.

  He bent his head to take the condom off. I started sliding my dress back properly on my body as he reached into his ever-present duffle bag and took something out and dispose
d of the condom.

  We looked at each other.

  “Hi,” I said, sort of shaky.

  He stared at me a second, then stepped forward and started helping me with my dress. I let it go and began buttoning his shirt back up, each of us setting the other to rights in the dark.

  The lights came back on just as my dress slithered to my knees. Oohs and ahhs came from the banquet hall, intruding on the universe we’d constructed back here, hot and dark and faintly forbidden.

  Perfect.

  Still silent, he fixed my hair, then rested the sides of his hands on my shoulders, his fingers gentle against the nape of my neck.

  “Okay?” he asked softly.

  “Very okay.” I paused. “You?”

  That earned a smile, the half one, deepening the curved lines beside his mouth. “Very very.”

  We smiled at each other.

  “You better go,” he said softly. “They’ll be looking for you now that the lights are back on.”

  Oh, right. There was a wedding outside this dark little room that had become my universe.

  Just like Trey had told me. Warned me.

  Promised me.

  And wow had he kept his promises.

  “Right,” I said, and moved slowly to the door. I unlocked it. “What about you?”

  “I’ll clean things up here.” He gestured to the things he’d swept off the table when he put me against it, and the dildo, which was now sitting on his jacket.

  I flushed again. I swear I didn’t know where all these flushes kept coming from. You’d think I’d be all flushed-out by now.

  Instead, I felt bright and pumped up with fuel, like a star. Like I had sunlight pouring through me.

  I felt excellent.

  I gave a tiny nod and reached for the door, pulled it open a crack, and looked back. “You’re coming out, though, right?”

  His eyes met mine. He seemed to hesitate. “Yeah, baby, I’ll be there.”

  Call me baby again.

  My heart lifted, which made no sense, because what, was he going to hide in this room all night?

  But as I turned away, my gaze skimmed the back door, then over Trey’s duffle bag, sitting on the floor.