Filthy: A Bad Boy Romance (11 page)

We’re bound together there for a long moment, unable to escape from the wrenching pleasure. Finally I start to feel myself breathing again, and his body loosens a little, easing away from me. He’s still for a long few seconds, then he drags in a slow breath.

“Jess,” he says, and nothing else.

I meet his eyes in the mirror. We’re both quiet for a long time, and then I remember why we’re here together in the first place. Because my father sent his men to teach Cain a lesson.

Shit.

“Cain…” I start, but he shakes his head as if he can tell I’m about to say something serious and he doesn’t want to hear it.

“Shower,” he says, and draws me away from the sink.

I let him lead me into the shower and watch while he adjusts the water. I feel wobbly, like my legs might not hold me, but they don’t give out. When the water starts to fall on us, it feels so good I move into Cain’s arms, letting him hold me while the steam rises.

After a few long seconds with water running down over us both, I lift my head from his chest and lick a rivulet from his tattooed pec—right off the lion’s scowling face. Then I reach behind him and take a bar of soap off the little shelf in the corner.

He watches, curious but not trying to stop me. I run the soap over his chest, down his belly, to the root of his cock. Gently I lather him up, cleaning his shaft. Then I remember he’s not so much into gentle. So I let my nails move over his delicate skin, scratching lightly at the protruding veins.

His head goes back and he lets out a satisfied rumble. I scrub him clean, squeeze him until he’s semi-hard, then go to my knees.

“Ah, Jess,” he says, the words so quiet I can barely hear them. As I take him into my mouth, he slides a hand into my hair.

I have no idea if he can come again so soon, but his cock sure seems up to it, hardening quickly in my mouth. I take him in as deep as I can, teeth scraping but not too hard. I know he likes it rough, but men can be fussy about their dicks. For good reason, I suppose. I roll my tongue around the head, feeling the heat grow there, then I open my mouth, letting some of the shower water come in, then closing my lips again around his rock-hard shaft.

He seems to be holding back, so I reach around him and clasp his buttocks, pulling him a little closer and urging him to thrust. He does, carefully, but then quickens the pace as I pull him deeper and deeper into my throat. I swallow around the head and then let him slide out, back in again. It becomes a steady rhythm, and I start to lose myself in it.

“Jess, Jess,” he says suddenly, his fingers pulling at my hair like he wants me to pull off. But I keep him where he is, cock head at the very back of my throat, and I swallow as he comes.

#

We finish showering and dry off then slide naked into bed together. It’s nice there, just lying there under the blankets, his arms around me. The heat of his body dispels the chill of the after-shower coolness of my skin.

Exhausted, I try to pull myself back together, but it’s hard to breathe, and I literally hurt from his relentless pounding, from his hands digging into me. Not that I’m complaining. I’m riding a wave of post-climax adrenaline and anger. Not at Cain. At everything else. Everything that closes us both in.

I press my face against the hard slope of his chest. With my ear against him, I can hear his heart beating in a content, even rhythm. The soft hair between his pecs, and his skin, with its lines and patterns of ink, is still damp. He smells of soap.

“Cain… We can’t go on like this.” The words are soft, and I’m not sure when I decided to say them. As they come out of my mouth, I wonder what I’m going to say next.

He makes a low noise, sort of an acknowledging grunt. I can’t tell from the sound of it if he’s agreeing with me or not. His hand comes up and tangles in my hair, then his fingers slip down my bare back. I wonder what he’s thinking. He’s not looking at me; his attention is somewhere else.

“He’s going to kill you,” I go on. The prospect makes my throat thicken. “He’s already shown you what happens when you cross him. And now you’ve crossed him again.”

His head moves now, rolling toward me so he’s looking me in the face. I think maybe he’s listening now. I’d give every penny I own to know what’s going on inside that head of his right now.

“Do you get what I’m telling you, Cain? He’s going to
kill
you. This was just a warning.”

“Yeah. I get that.” His voice is low, almost a monotone, like he doesn’t care one way or another. “So what the fuck am I supposed to do about it?”

“Marry me.”

His eyes narrow. I know he’s already told me pretty much what he thinks of this plan, but things are worse now. Pop knows Cain and I are sleeping together, and he’s laid down the law. “No,” Cain says. “It’s a stupid idea.”

I lever myself up over him, one hand in the middle of his chest, looking him right in the face, willing him to understand. “It’s
not
stupid. He won’t kill you if you’re married to me. If we make it legal, there’ll be nothing he can do. He can’t force me to marry Carmine then, and if you’re my husband… Well, it’ll give you some protection.”

It’s his turn to lever himself up, pushing to a half-sitting position, looking at me like I’ve completely lost my mind.

“Jess, it’s nuts. And I’m not going to do it.”

“Why is it nuts? I marry you, I get out from under Pop’s thumb. I don’t have to worry about Carmine anymore. You marry me, and you’re his son-in-law. You’re family. You get that?
Family
.”

“Honest to God, Jess, it doesn’t seem to me like your dad treats his family much better than he treats anybody else.”

He has a point, but I shake my head. “No. You’re a man. It’s different. And he’s old-school Catholic. Once we’re married, that’s it. No divorce. No nothing.”

“Annulment?”

“Yeah, but then he’d have to prove we never consummated the marriage, and good luck with that.”

“He could force you to do it. Force you to lie.”

I don’t want to hear any of these objections. They all make sense, but so does my plan. I know once I’ve got another man who’s “responsible” for me, Pop will loosen the reins, hand them over to Cain. I won’t be under his control anymore, and Cain will be in a completely different relationship with the Spada family in general. I can tell, though, that I’m not getting through to Cain.

“He won’t. You have to trust me on this, Cain.”

He shakes his head again, sharper this time, and sits all the way up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. “No. I’m not going to tie myself down just to get out of this mess with your dad.”

“He’s going to
kill
you.”

“Yeah, let him try. I’m not going to marry some hot piece of ass because I’m scared of him.”

I swallow, my heart sinking. “I thought I was more than that to you.”

He gives me another look, this one evaluating. “Jess. This was never anything but a fling. Your way to throw a big, fat middle finger at your father. Don’t try to tell me it was ever anything else.”

The sad part is, he’s right. That’s exactly how I saw it at the beginning. But I’m not quite seeing it the same way now. Something about Cain has crawled under my skin, and I don’t want to let him go.

“It’s the best way out.” I can’t put as much force into my voice anymore, knowing he’s not taking me seriously. “For both of us.”

“It’s no way out.” His eyes smolder as he gets up and heads back toward the bathroom as if I don’t even exist.

“Fine, then!” I throw the words after him as hard and sharp as I can. “You’re just going to take it? You’re just going to roll over and be his little lapdog until he decides to kick you to death? Is that what you want? God, Cain. I thought you were better than that. I thought you were more of a man than that.”

He looks at me, and his eyes are distant. Cold.

“I think you ought to go home.”

Well. That’s it, then. At least now I know what he thinks of me.

With as much dignity as I can muster, I gather my clothes and head for home.

CHAPTER FIVE

Cain

I watch Jess do her walk of shame, and there’s a twinge of guilt as I do it. Maybe I shouldn’t have come down on her quite so hard. But she’s been making me think, and I’m not sure I like the way I’m thinking. What if marrying her is the best way out of this mess? For both of us?

Finally I do what I always do when I can’t figure out what the fuck to do about something. I head for the gym.

My usual trainer’s there—Paul, who’s a good guy even though he’s mixed up in the mob. But if anybody knows how easy it is to get mixed up in the mob, it’s me. In fact, I’m usually surprised when I meet somebody in the LA MMA circuit who
isn’t
mixed up in the mob somehow. Perspective, I guess.

“You look rough,” Paul says. I figure I do, what with the ass kicking I took yesterday. Spada’s goons fucked me up worse than I let on, but I didn’t want Jess to know that. Though sex has healing properties, I’ve found. Especially sex with Jess.

I give Paul a grin that’s probably more teeth than anything else. “Yeah, you could say that.”

He frowns. “That’s not all from the fight.”

“Don’t go there,” I say quietly, and he drops it. I can tell from the quick flash in his eyes that he gets it. Knows exactly where those bruises came from.

“So why are you here this early?”

“Need to train, what else?” I put a good amount of “duh” in my tone. “Looks like I’ve got a fight in a few weeks.” I haven’t gotten the final schedule from Spada yet, but I know he has it in the works. What he doesn’t know is that it’s going to be my last fight for him. As soon as I know when it’s going to be, I can start making my final plans.

“Right. You do, don’t you?” For a second he acts like he’s going to ask me something else, but whatever it is, he lets it go. “Let’s get you warmed up, then.”

As usual, hitting the big bag then moving into the ring for some sparring with Paul starts to work out the kinks in both my muscles and my mind. Paul starts talking about footwork, and my body moves automatically to do what he says even though I’m not consciously registering his words. I’m in the zone, big time.

Punch, punch, kick. Grab Paul, drag him to the mat. Jiujitsu moves—hold him down. Pin him. Wait until he taps out. Start over again. Next time he gets me pinned. I’m totally in my body, not even thinking as I test his strength, finally pulling loose enough to punch him in the face a couple times. He grins at me then pins me again. Guy’s good. Eventually I give up and tap out, and we start over once again after a quick lecture on my lack of focus on my center of gravity and how I need to pay more attention to where my feet are.

It’s the kind of work that requires every ounce of my concentration, and yet somehow lets my mind wander while I’m doing it. I start thinking about Jess. Because of course I do.

What if she’s right? It’s not something I want to consider, but let’s face it—at this point I’m living on borrowed time. Spada knows I’m fucking his daughter, and he’s not happy about it. Carmine Romano, destined to be Spada’s right-hand man, knows I’m fucking the woman meant to be his fiancée, and he’s not happy about it either. And I’m a ticking time bomb, because this next fight, I’m taking them all down and they can just fucking deal with it.

But when I do it, when I go behind Spada’s back and walk away with that prize money, nice and warm in my own pocket, there’s a better than even chance I’ll never fight again. Hell, there’s a better than even chance I’ll never
breathe
again.

That’s not going to stop me though. It’s time I took control of my own life, even if that means ending up dead.

But with Jess on my arm, with my ring on her finger…

Would it really make a difference? Would Spada really see me as family just because I’ve got my name on a marriage certificate next to his daughter’s? Or will that just give him another reason to kill me?

Paul makes a feint I don’t expect, and I have to focus again before he manages to flip me onto my back on the mat. He’s hard on me, which is good. Nobody’s going to pull punches in the cage, and Paul doesn’t pull punches here in the practice ring either. It’s largely because of him that I’ve made it as far as I have.

We get sorted back out, punching at each other again, and after a second Paul lifts his hands and steps back. “Time for a break,” he announces. “Go get some water.”

I nod. I could keep going, but when Paul tells me to stop, I do. Always. I head for the corner and my towel and water bottle.

Wiping the sweat off me reminds me of last night, of the sweat sliding between me and Jess. She’s a hot little minx and arguably the best fuck I’ve ever had. Way more enthusiastic than I ever imagined, and whether that’s because she likes what I do to her or because she’s turned-on by fucking over her father, I don’t care. All I care about is the way she wiggles under me, the way her nails dig into my back. The way she squeezes that tight little cunt on my dick. God, it’s crazy good.

It’s not sweet sex with her, that’s for damn sure. I wonder what Spada would think if he knew what I was
really
doing with his daughter. That I fucked her damn near unconscious, and she screamed and liked it. It’d probably give him a coronary if he knew the kind of down-and-dirty, filthy, nasty sex I’m getting up to with his daughter.

So there’s another advantage to Jessica’s plan. We get married and I’ve got free access to that hot little body any time I want. Free rein to work over that tight little cunt, have my way with her after every fight, every morning when I wake up with morning wood…

I break that thought off because my dick’s getting hard in my workout shorts and that could get uncomfortable. Just fighting gets me hard enough—I don’t need the extra stimulation. But yeah, it’s a good thought. Spada would be infuriated. Romano would be infuriated. And it’d be a huge fuck-you to both of them. A nice lead-in to the even bigger fuck-you I plan to deliver after the next fight.

Not a fucking one of them is going to know what hit them.

I grin again, and I can feel on my face that it’s an ugly look. Sucking down the water bottle, I turn back to Paul.