LUCI (The Naughty Ones Book 2) (36 page)

Chase

I don’t know whether to laugh or start ripping this place apart at the seams as I recline on the long sofa in the VIP room and watch the crowd writhing below on the dark dance floor.

“This place is an orgy waiting to happen,” Gabe mutters at me, throwing back another shot of Goose as the waitress skips over, her breasts fully on display as she smiles coyly and sets down another round.

The message in her eyes is clear; she’s more than open to suggestions, and from the way she’s been eying me and Gabe both, I think she’d be all too happy if that suggestion came back as two dicks ready to pleasure her too-eager body.

I flick her a dismissive glance and train my eyes on the dance floor. I gazed across the area of writhing, sweaty bodies before finding my woman where she’s currently grinding and gyrating to the dark beat of what sounds like Meatloaf remixed.

Jesus, she’s gorgeous. That dress almost had me stalking my way through the crowd of salivating idiots to get to her. I had the almost feral urge to bend her over my arm and kiss her, ravage her mouth in such a way that all and sundry would have no doubt that my girl is not free and that my claim has most definitely been staked.

The only thing stopping me had been the utter excitement on her face as she scampered to the bar and ordered a drink before turning to survey the crowd with a gleam of curiosity.

And I’d recalled my resolution to give her the time she needs to get this all out of her system.

I’d been pissed at first, angry at not getting my way in this as easily as I get everything else. But then I sat down and really gave it some thought. I’d been shamed when the liquor had relaxed me enough to actually consider what she was saying, and so annoyed at myself I’d almost finished the bottle as I sat and mapped out a new course for myself.

Remy needs this time to let loose and shake off the bonds that shackled her for over a decade—a proposal that I never once considered because, as usual, I was only thinking of what I wanted instead of considering that she’s been trapped in a colorless void where people moved her around like a plastic Barbie doll.

Of course she would be gun-shy about taking the leap with me. I’m a controlling bastard, and arrogant besides, and while I will do everything in my power to make her happy, I cannot allow her the opportunity to do anything that might cause her harm—and we both know it.

So, yeah, her reticence about committing and moving in with me is understandable—to a degree.

So, I’ve decided to give her space and time to see what she missed, to a point, since I’m still me and that’s never going to change. I’m content, for the moment, to watch her break free of the restrictions.

And then I will, of course, grab her right back up and claim the living shit out of her because as much as I hate to admit it, I am an acquiring bastard who already sees that beautiful woman as mine.

“Go down there already.”

I shake my head at Gabe and take another drink of Goose, enjoying the mellow burn as the alcohol slides down my throat and settles warmly in my gut.

“No, she wants to dance and party, and there’s no way will that happen if I’m looming over her like a rabid dog.”

But, Jesus, I want to
.

A stocky guy, shorter than me by at least a foot, sidles closer to Remy where she’s leaning against the bar, laughing with Liv. I have to force myself not to move when he bends down close and whispers into her ear, his body language so obvious I feel the overwhelming need to beat him to a pulp for daring to breathe on what is mine. I leave him breathing only because Rem takes a subtle step back and shakes her head kindly before turning away to laugh at something Liv says.

Good, one less fucker to put in the ground
, I snarl silently, throwing my drink back and signaling for another.

“You’re gonna lose your girl to one of those bozos down there if you don’t do something,” Gabe warns, though I’m not sure if he’s upset about Remy being hit on so consistently or the fact that Liv is decked out in a pink, strapless dress that looks like a tutu and is complimented by pink heels sporting ribbons that wrap her legs from ankle to just below the knee.

Her outfit screams
sexy and available,
and I swear the guy is almost wild with lust and pulsing anger the longer he’s forced to sit here and watch every swinging dick in the place come on to her.

I’d tried to set up a date for him but he refused, so he can just sit here and suffer as far as I’m concerned.

I’m still silently chuckling at his annoyance when I see a blond sidle up to the pair and lean down, his mouth pulled wide in a suggestive smile. He leans in and says something to Rem before taking her hand and pulling her onto the crowded dance floor.

“Fuck.”

Well, I tried.

“About fucking time,” Gabe mutters, coming to his feet with a surge of repressed power. He follows me as I pound down the stairs and throw myself into the mass of overzealous bodies.

I’m a lot taller than most and it takes me a matter of seconds to peer over the heads of those on the dance floor. I spot Remy and the dead fucker, who not only has hands on my girl but also seems to be flirting shamelessly with her.

He says something and she throws her head back and laughs. The sound is lost to me but no less painful when I see him smile back and pull her closer into his body, his hands locking at the small of her back, in that place where only my hands belong.

“You go get your girl. I’ll…get the friend in case she won’t leave without her.”

I snort but nod, feeling the urge to smile despite my fury because that man is sure as hell as gone and lost as I am. Gabe may be sporting a tree stuck up his arse, but the man is not to be underestimated.

There are those of us in the world who are dominant and downright lethal to cross when we consider something ours, and I have no doubt in my mind that Gabe took one look at the imp in a pink tutu and had that same wild need to stake his claim.

Poor Liv doesn’t stand a chance.

I cut through the crowd with ease, something on my face alerting them to the fact that I am pissed and dangerous. The bodies part like the Red Sea, opening up a path that gives me clear access to my prey and the walking corpse who’s unaware of his fate.

When he leans down and sniffs at her, taking in the scent that belongs to me, the scent I have yet to wash off my sheets, I feel a feral growl rumble through my chest.

Dead. Definitely dead.

I make it to them in what feels like two strides and grab the hand inching its way to her ass, squeezing hard enough that I feel bone crunch and hear his pain filled cry a second before he stumbles back and lets her go.

Remy, unaware of my presence till now, frowns at his defection and turns sharply, her aqua eyes widening. Her eyes meet mine, and she sees the absolute fury that I do nothing to mask.

“Chase!”

“Hey man, what gives?” the idiot barks, cradling his hand, which I am pleased to say is sporting at least one broken finger.

“Touch her again and I’ll rip your fucking hands off.”

The guy swallows and looks like he’s about to argue before taking a closer look at my eyes.
Yeah, fucker, take a good look and see the fate I have in store for you if you don’t bugger off.

He swallows again and turns without so much as I nod, leaving me alone with a now scowling, very angry Remy.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I almost choke on a laugh when her words come out in a husky slur and she weaves in place, her eyes blinking rapidly as if she’s having trouble keeping them open.

Instead of answering, I grab her hand and start pulling her behind me, ignoring her struggles and the fingernails that bite into the flesh of my wrist.

I don’t stop till I reach a long corridor reserved for staff and find a door. It turns out to be a supply closet for glasses and other odds and ends. I pull her in and slam the door, pushing her up against it and pinning her with my body.

As we make contact, I feel the anger and fear that’s been dogging me slip away, replaced by an almost instantaneous erection at the feel of her heat and the scent of apples that fill the air.

“Did you enjoy having his hands all over you?” I growl, grabbing her pounding fists and pinning them to the door beside her head.

With my hands engaged, I am forced to rely on my hips to keep her pinned, but hey, no complaints as she squirms and bumps at me to get free, her movements serving only to drive her mound into my raging dick.

“Answer me babe. Did you enjoy having his hands all over you?” I hiss, shoving my dick harder into her, almost losing my train of thought when she moans at the contact and bites at her bottom lip.

“I watched him touching what is mine, Rem. I saw the way he ever so slowly inched his hands down. He wanted to touch this ass babe.”

The recollection makes my blood pound and I let loose and give into the need to free my possessive beast and take her, no longer caring for the idea of giving her a little freedom.

When she whimpers and bites at her lip, I drop her hands and cup her face roughly, slamming my moth down on hers in a kiss rife with hunger, possession and the need to prove to her that I am and always will be everything she needs.

She responds just as I hoped, opening her mouth and kissing me back, her tongue and teeth grinding over mine, seeking, tasting, demanding satisfaction.

Her dress slips, gliding its way down between us to pool at her feet and I realize that I’ve unzipped her and that I’m attacking her clothes like a mad man. The bra lets out a groan and surrenders to my forceful grip and I attack her thong with the same urgency, and pocket item that is nothing more than a wet shred of fabric.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll never forget who you belong to,” I growl, smiling in satisfaction when all she does is moan and pulls my head back down to hers.

I respond by releasing my raging cock, hoisting her up and slamming into her without a though to her readiness. She screams and bites my lip, her muscles contracting so strongly around my girth that my eyes roll back in my head.

And then I smile. Because she is wet and ready, her moans and tightening grip on my dick tell me exactly what I need to know. She wants me.

“This is mine. Only mine.” I yell, fucking into her hard enough that the door shakes with every forceful thrust.

Anyone walking on the other side will hear it and know what’s happening, know that I’m fucking my woman to within an inch of her life. They’ll also know that I’m doing a bloody good job because Remy is screaming and moaning with every thrust, her little fist pounding at the wood every time I bottom out and hit her so high I feel her cervix kiss the crown.

“Tell me,” I demand, keeping up a hard, fast rhythm that makes my legs shake with the need to give in as my balls draw up and beg for release.

She shakes her head no and I snarl, increasing my pace.

“Say it.”

“Yours!” she screams, bringing her hands up to grab at my head as the contractions of her orgasm grasp at me.

Her nails dig deep and she slams her mouth down on mine, screaming and clawing at the intensity if her climax.

I let go and give her my pleasure, my dick spewing into her in hard bursts. The pleasure is so intense I come up on my toes, plunging deeper with every burst, coming so hard I feel my balls empty and groan in surrender.

By the time I’m done, I’m so replete I have to lock my knees to keep us both from falling.

“We clear babe?” I ask, sucking a hickey into her neck as she nods her head and peers down at me with lust-drunk aqua eyes.

I smile for the first time in six days and feel myself click back into place.

Remy is mine, I know it, she knows it and by the time we walk out of this club with my come streaking her thighs and my marks covering her neck, every limp dick in the place will know it too.

Remy             

“He won’t leave me alone!”

I roll my eyes at Liv and keep packing my overnight bag as she flops down on the sofa and blows out a frustrated breath that I won’t point out sounds just as breathy as it does putout.

After that hot, scorching, molten-lava-scale episode in that closet at the club, I’d been so boneless with satisfaction and drunk on both alcohol and simmering lust that I’d allowed Chase to drag me out and into his car, wanting nothing more than to go home with him and take a nap before starting all over again.

He’d been so smug and satisfied that I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I think Trav is either gay or very interested in someone else. Instead of arguing and letting him know how unimpressed I was with his recent behavior, I’d let him screw hard in that closet and well into the early hours of Saturday morning. I’d reveled in the lust and pure decadence that is Chase Marshall when he’s pissed and intent on proving a point.

I get it. He’s a sex god who won’t hesitate to use that magnificent body to show me exactly why I now belong to him completely. And belong I do; I was forced to admit it, because when the lust and need had finally abated and we were wrapped around each other, I’d finally felt safe, content, and at peace for the first time since he let me walk out of his house.

I get it. While I may not be ready for everything that being with him entails, I am also not ready to even contemplate a new beginning without him in it.

Seems that in the short time I’ve been with him, the man has effectively wormed his way into my very essence, and now that he’s there, I don’t think he’ll ever willingly leave.

And that’s fine by me since I literally need him with every breath that I take.

“Are you listening?” Liv yells, glaring at my soft smile and dreamy look. “This is somehow your fault. Gabriel Stevens will not leave me alone.”

I laugh at her hysterics and zip my bag before flopping down beside her and staring at the ceiling.

“He’s hot though.”

“Yeah, but he’s so hot and heavy and just…
intense,
Rem. We had sex one time and the guy started talking about clearing closet space for when I move in!” she shrieks, jackknifing to her feet to start the pacing that marks exactly how agitated she is.

Liv, for all her girly goodness and downright traditional views, is a commitment-phobe of note. The longest she’s been in a relationship is three weeks because, as she continuously says, ‘men need to be cut loose before they cut you.’

I personally think she must be very taken with Mr. Stevens if she’s getting this agitated about the guy. Her last relationship ended with her sending a text that said ‘Sayonara, bitch,’ all because the poor man had wanted to take her on a weekend trip.

According to Liv, a guy who’s willing to invest that soon into a relationship is stalker material and not someone you want biting at the hook.

Her views on relationships are a direct result of her one failed, committed relationship with a guy named Joe whom she'd caught banging the delivery guy after they’d eaten pizza he paid for with her money.

Liv no longer does pizza—or guys who look like they’re interested in more than one or two mutually satisfying hook-ups. I have an idea that that is about to change though, no matter how hard she fights it.

Gabriel, Chase warned, is a man as passionate about what he wants as Chase is, and if that’s any way to measure, I’m pretty pleased to assume that Liv’s days of one and done are a thing of the past.

She’s gonna fight it though,
hard,
and I just hope Gabe has the patience to reel her in with the love and care that a complicated creature like Liv needs.

“Why don’t you just relax and go with the flow, Liv? Gabe is a great guy who obviously adores you.”

She snorts and I stifle a giggle at her dirty look.

“He bought me a freaking car! A car! I did him once and he thinks he can start buying me things.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want you driving around in that lemon you have. It’s a heap Liv,” I point out reasonably, trying not to laugh when she throws her hands in the air and glares daggers at me.

“It’s weird! Who buys a car for a one night hookup?”

A guy who means business
, I think silently, enjoying her ranting for a few more minutes before standing to take her shoulders gently.

“I know you’re scared, believe me I do. Chase is just as intense, if not more so, and seems to want to move this relationship to levels I’m not sure I’m ready for, but I adore him and I’m willing to bet that he’s the best thing that’s happened to me. Fear or not, I’m taking the leap. Give it a chance, Liv. Who knows, Gabe could be your Mr. Right.”

She snorts at that and grabs her own overnight bag and locks up before following me to the elevator.

“Fine, but if he gets any weirder I’m cutting him loose.”

“Fine, now chin up, girl, we’re going on a two-day vacation to Bali!”

She gives me a
hell yeah
and high five as the doors open and we make our way outside into the crisp winter air, our breaths fogging with the sudden cold front that’s hit Washington almost overnight.

Chase, the wonderful man, the man I think I may just love, has arranged an impromptu weekend trip for us, saying that he’s dying to see me in a bikini and frolicking in the ocean.

You think I’m complaining? I hate the cold, and since I’ve never even been out of state, I’m pretty darned psyched about having a weekend of fun and sun with my very sexy guy.

Liv’s invited because, as he says, ‘the knuckleheads need all the help they can get’ and he’s sick of having to deal with Gabe’s ranting every time Liv ignores his calls.

I’m just glad I don’t have to leave Liv alone in the apartment after the creepy calls I’ve been getting. Four days of that shit has me on edge, and while I’m pretty sure it’s just another pissed off crack head who’s annoyed that I’d filed a request to have their kids removed from their care and placed a temporary foster home, I’m a little leery to leave her to deal with that alone.

The one time it happened before, Brian had yelled at me for forcing him to hire security till the cops got the situation under control. Scary and totally weird—yeah, my job can be dangerous with some of the charming human beings I get to see every day—but it’s not at a point that I find it necessary to tell Chase.

The police have been informed, and I’m pretty confident that they’ll put a stop to it, so I intend to keep mum and just enjoy this weekend.

“Bali, Bali, Bali!” Liv chants, doing a jig as I click the alarm to release the lock and we tumble into the car. “Oh man! I am so excited.”

“Good.”

I turn the key, eager to get to Chase and ready for this next adventure—and
definitely
ready to spend the next two days doing nothing but relaxing and letting my boyfriend have his wicked way with me.

There’s a click, and then nothing. I frown, twisting the key again.

“Aw, man!”

“Whyyyyy!” I moan, banging my head into the steering wheel with a groan.

Stupid car, I just had it serviced two months ago.

“Chill, girlfriend. I’ll call a cab.”

I groan and nod, leaving the car and slamming the door with a frustrated growl.
Great. Now, Chase is gonna have a fit and try to pull a Gabe on me too
. If I know the guy, and boy
do
I after that wild sex in the club and his feral growls of ownership, he’ll try to by me a tank to drive around in.

We wait ten minutes before the cab arrives, and I settle with a groan after giving the cabbie the address.

“Chill out. We’re getting there. So we’ll be five minutes late—big deal,” Liv murmurs, giving me a noogie and chattering away a mile a minute about the bright pink thong bikini she’s been dying to wear and the tan she intends to get.

She chatters so much, trying to keep me from worrying that it takes me a while to realize that we’re headed in the wrong direction.

“Hey, Mister, I think you’re going the wrong way.”

Liv finally shuts up and looks around, her nose scrunching with annoyance.

“Yo, dude, you are so going the wrong way man. You need to turn around and step on it, we’re running late.”

My confusion increases, turning to plain dread when I hear the automatic click of locks slamming into place and the cabbie looks back at us through the rearview mirror.

“Stop the cab. Now!” I yell, banging my hands into the thick plexiglass separating us.

“Sorry, lady. No can do.”

Liv finally gets the idea and starts freaking out, her hands clawing desperately at the door, her voice a shrill yell when it doesn’t budge and the cab starts picking up speed.

“Hey! You better let us out asshole! My boyfriend will kill you if you touch a hair on our heads.”

I’m so terrified at this point that I can’t even laugh at the fact that she’s now referring to Gabe as her boyfriend. All I can do is scramble for the cellphone in my bag and pray that Chase answers quickly.

For some reason, a normal cab ride is turning into something I don’t even want to think about, and I am well and truly petrified at this point.

“Chase!” I yell when the call goes through, my heart pounding a mile a minute when the cab takes a rough corner, throwing us against the right door with a resounding bang.

“Rem? Remy? What’s wrong, babe?” he yells, responding to what is now pure panic as Liv and I scream, trying desperately to keep from killing each other with every turn.

The phone flies out of my hand and I cry out, diving to grab it.

“Chase! The cab won’t let us out.” I cry, feeling hysteria engulf me. “Help us.”

It the last thing I say before the cabbie laughs darkly and stops the cab, his hand holding a small black box up high.

“Say bye to your lover, Miss Harrow.”

“Remy!”

The cabbie flicks the switch and my phone goes completely dead, the screen blinking off and staying that way no matter how many times I frantically try to switch it back on.

“What is this?”

Confusion is rife, battling with the hysteria now suffusing not only me, but also a screeching Liv.

“You pissed off the wrong people, Miss Harrow. You just pissed off the wrong people.”