Craving (17 page)

“I want you.” A rough whisper. “I think I wanted you since I first saw you.”

“You
thought
I was, quote—
banging
Tristan—
unquote.”

“I was jealous.”

“You don’t need to be.” I leaned over him, my hair trickled over his shoulder. He closed his fingers around it and sighed.

“I can’t believe you want me.”

From any other guy, I would have thought it was an attempt at fishing for compliments. In Dante I saw a vulnerability, a naked longing in his eyes. How could I not want him? “Believe it, Angel.”

A tiny frown. “Angel?”

“You remind me of one of Dante’s Fallen Angels.” He looked puzzled. “You know, from Dante’s Inferno? The epic poem?”

The frown turned into an amused smile and his hand fisted gently in my hair, easing me closer. His lips a heartbeat away. “I’ve never been called an angel before.”

I traced the line of his jaw with one fingertip, scratching the delicious stubble. “
Fallen
angel,” I murmured. “And I’ve fallen for you.”

8.4 Dante

I silenced her with a kiss. Her response was hard, demanding, and hungry—everything I wanted. I needed Kitten to drive out my demons, to make me forget.

She straddled my hips, hands thrust in my hair, stroking and petting.

I inched under her T-shirt finding bare flesh, delicious, soft skin.

She pulled back, hauled her T-shirt over her head and reached behind to unfasten her bra.

I caught her hands and stilled them. “Let me,” I whispered. With the bra gone I cupped my hands around those fantastic breasts. “I like these. Can I play with them?” Playing that involved my fingers and mouth as I teased first one and then the other, while Kitten moaned her approval.

Her fingers tightened in my hair. She tugged my head up and sought my lips, and any thoughts of taking things slow evaporated. “Shirt,” she commanded, helping me to take it off, moving away long enough to get rid of my T-shirt. Her fingers fluttered across my nipples, dancing over the piercing and driving me to the edge of control, my sanity was shredding further with each touch.

In a distant corner of my mind, I reminded myself that I wanted to take things slow with Kitten, to treat her as something precious and not just a quick fuck.

“Dante,” she breathed as I sought her lips in one last, faint attempt to slow down. Then her hand cupped me, and my cock took over the thinking process. Her fingers fumbled with my zipper, tugging at my jeans and pulling at my boxers.

I helped her out of her tight denims and found she wore the tiniest lace panties I’d ever seen. So pretty, they deserved more attention, but neither of us wanted to wait. I sucked in my breath as I stroked her, and she ground against my fingers, hot, wet, and enticing.

“Please, Angel,” she whimpered. “Please tell me you have a condom.”

I retrieved one from my wallet and shoved down my boxers, feeling anxious for a moment. This was Kitten.
Special
. I wanted to make it so very good for her.

Her fingers traced my tats, her mouth following, her tongue licking a trail and lighting a fire deep inside me.

I swallowed hard. “I need to be inside you, baby.” I’d almost lost the power of speech.

Sitting upright, she slid into place, rising just above my straining cock. Teasing me. Brushing against me. I grabbed her hips and held her fast, her hands curling over mine. As slowly as I could manage, I guided her down, nudged the sensitive tip inside her and dragged in a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

“Angel,” she whispered. She seized control and pushed down, taking me to the hilt.

I hissed. The sheer overload of sensation made me dizzy. So tight, her muscles gripped my cock like an invisible hand.
Jesus
. “You okay?” I whispered.

“Oh yeah.” Her eyes closed, Kitten relaxed and lifted up—then slammed down again.

We both groaned.

Our hands tangled together as she set the pace, riding me hard and fast. Every movement causing her breasts to jiggle and her hair to swish. If I was an angel, Kitten was heaven itself. I wanted to lose myself in her, stay inside her forever. Time stopped as we moved together. It was just Kitten and me.

Her breathy moans snapped me back to reality. She looked more beautiful than I could have imagined as she watched me through slitted eyes, a thin sheen of perspiration across her body as she inched closer to me.

I wanted to watch her come. Releasing one hand, I slipped it between her legs, found her clit and held my breath as she bucked under my fingertips.

“Angel, oh God,
oh God
.” She clenched around me, impossibly tight, her muscles squeezing me as she shattered. I followed, exploding into her with a muffled shout.
Mine
.

* * * *

I cradled her in my arms while I wound a spiral of dark, red hair around my fingers. It was soft as silk but with a hidden strength. Like Kitten, I mused with a smile.

“What’s so funny?” Amber eyes glowed as she lifted her head to look down at me. “You’re laughing at something.”

“I feel happy.” I spoke without thinking and paused, surprised.
Where had that come from?
I eased her closer, nuzzling her lips. “You’re fucking awesome, Kitten.”

A smirk. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Lazy fingers drifted up my arm. “Are the tattoos significant?”

“Uh-huh.” I freed my left arm to show her the snake. “Two reasons for the snake. I was born in the Chinese year of the snake, but in Eastern mythology it symbolizes regeneration.”

Soft fingertips followed the outline as it wound around my lower arm, and she pressed a kiss onto my wrist.

My cock stirred as I wondered how her lips would feel on that.

“The dragon?” she murmured.

Oh yeah. I raised my right arm and turned to show the dragon, its eyes seeming to flash in the low light. “It’s an Eastern dragon. European ones are usually done in blacks and grays.” The breath caught in my throat as she continued to swirl her tongue over the snake’s head. “It, uh, represents protection and strength.”

Little kisses fluttered over the back of my hand, nuzzling the tips of my fingers and then she ducked under my arm to cuddle against my side. I curled my arm around her shoulders and buried my nose in her hair.

“I don’t normally like tattoos.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “But yours are beautiful. They suit you.”

I kissed the shell of her ear.

“Are they all done by the same person?” One soft hand splayed across my stomach.

I resisted the urge to move it down a little further. “Yeah, my mate Ash. He owns
Ink City
, the tat parlor on the Princess Parkway.” I refrained from mentioning Nanette. “D’you fancy getting inked, babe?”

A shocked giggle. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“I’d hold your hand.”

A long silence. I felt her fingers curl into a fist then flex. “You
are
coming back, Dante?”

The knot of fear inside my chest tightened even further. I didn’t have much time left with Kitten, and I didn’t intend to waste any of it. I boldly moved her hand to rest on my throbbing cock and sought her lips again.

8.5 Dante

Kitten dozed by my side, but I hadn’t been able to sleep a wink with my brain racing round on its hamster wheel. Where the fuck did I start? Every time I closed my eyes I saw Alistair. Every thought led back to what he would ask me to do.

I curled my arm around Kitten’s waist and nuzzled at her shoulder, lifting my hand to cup her breast. So soft. She mumbled something and nestled closer, spooning against me in her sleep, but it was no use. Not even the feel of her lush body could distract me at the moment.

Three times now, Alistair had used me as an errand boy to fetch someone and deliver them to him—and I’d complied. No questions.

The first had been easy. A geeky, young guy, he’d been pathetically keen to talk to someone that didn’t treat him as a social outcast. I’d suggested a drink and a club, then stood in line to enter
Armageddon
with him and avoided his eyes when the bouncers swooped him up. Alistair’s limo idled at the curb and the geek, Shaun, had been shoved in the back. I could still see the look of terror on his face as he tried to fight the bouncers. The second had been more suspicious, but softened and tempted by the promise of a drug deal, had gone willingly with me. I knew the third guy was married with two little kids—he’d shown me a photograph—and this made me feel even more bitter. He’d been looking for work, wanting to provide for his family, and I’d screwed him over. I shuddered as I heard him scream, in my head. Whatever Alistair wanted from him, it was not good.

I tried to focus on the rest of my To Do List: figure out how to raise the extra cash every month; get Kitten’s medals back from the Jeweler so she could reconcile with her father; dig up newspaper reports that might tell me about my start in life—as an abandoned baby in the hospital. And evade the police. Yeah, that too.

It was 11:15, I needed to leave.
Fuck
. Where had the time gone? I held Kitten close a moment longer, then woke her with a kiss.

She blinked sleepily, pulled me to her. and then snapped awake. Eyes wide, her voice sounded husky with sleep. “It’s time for you to go?”

“Yeah. You stay here, baby. I’ll ring you.”

In response, she threw her arms around my neck and squeezed me tight. “You can’t, I don’t have my phone. Ring Josh.” Her face pressed against the curve of my neck. “Whatever it is you’re doing, be careful.”

Minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door. “It’s Josh,” he called.

I snagged my leather and went to let him in.

“How far are you going tonight?” He looked alert and dressed for the night. Black jeans and T-shirt, black fleece jacket, and a black beanie in his hand.

I frowned, puzzled. “City Center. He owns a club near Piccadilly Gardens.”

Josh nodded. “I’ll drive you. Save you getting pulled over by the police—don’t forget, they’re supposed to be looking for your bike.”

I stared, unsure how to reply. The words came slowly. “I, ah, thanks but you can’t. I could be there for hours.”

“No matter. I can wait and keep an eye on things from the car.”

“What about my bike? If I need to go on somewhere?”

Josh’s face lit up with a grin. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. “I’ve got a trailer hooked up to my Jeep.” He rattled keys in his pocket. “Shall we go?”

* * * *

I glanced at my watch—it had just turned midnight and right on cue, a discreet door opened onto the street, and a young Asian woman emerged to beckon me inside. I recognized her from my last visit, and my stomach churned. Small, yet lethal, she only came up to my chest, but I knew not to mess with her. She was a black belt in at least one discipline. I drew a tiny crumb of comfort from knowing Josh was nearby. He’d promised to wait for an hour, then stash my bike in a nearby parking lot if I hadn’t come out.

Armageddon
was housed in an old warehouse with most of the ground floor converted to a sprawling, noisy nightclub, but all the real action happened upstairs. The first floor held the private-hire rooms, where it was rumored you could indulge in almost any perversion, for the right price, of course. The top floor was normally out of bounds to customers. I wanted to throw up when the woman ushered me into the lift and inserted a key for level three. We were headed for the offices—and Alistair’s private rooms.

I followed her down a maze of corridors and tried to remember the way back in case I needed to make a hasty exit. Who was I kidding? I wouldn’t be leaving until they let me. My heart pounded as loudly as the bass beat from the club downstairs, and I stuffed my hands deep into my pockets and tried to look cocky, to clothe myself in my usual persona. Pretty sure I failed.

She opened a door and raised her hand to wave me inside. My eyes were drawn to the spiral tattoo on her wrist—a gang motif. I’d seen Ash working on that design more than once.

Her almond eyes were flat and cold when she met my stare, and without saying anything, she stepped back into the corridor and closed the door behind me. The lock clunked into place. I forced myself to breathe as I scanned the room. It was small and empty, with no windows and a single, naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling. No furniture either, so I sat on the floor with my back to the wall and waited.

Somewhere deep in a pocket was my emergency cigarette, and I patted my jacket until I found it, along with my Zippo. The lighter was almost empty, but three clicks later I managed to coax a flame and lit the slightly crumpled roll-up. I inhaled deeply, sucking the smoke into my lungs and savoring the burn.