Shooting Dirty (21 page)

They both groaned at the sensation. She could practically hear the sizzle between them. His cock filled her swollen sheath, all the way to the hilt. She gripped him like a sucking mouth, her pussy stretched taut.

He slid her up and down, slowly. She studied their reflection, her gaze half-lidded. They made an extremely pornographic picture. Her pussy lips flared around the base of his cock. When he paused to pinch her nipples, she moaned, her inner muscles clenching around the thick base of his shaft.

He kissed the nape of her neck and patted her clit with his fingertips. “Look at your sweet little cunt, taking me so deep.”

“Please,” she said, her teeth clenched. “Make me come.”

He rubbed her clit in firm circles, meeting her eyes in the mirror. His breath fanned her ear and he whispered dirty things about how tight and wet her pussy was, how pretty and bare and slippery-hot.

She exploded in a brilliant rush, bucking and shuddering on his gorgeous cock. The orgasm struck like lightning, shattering her into a thousand pieces. Her vision blurred and her skin felt electric, showered with hot sparks. She screamed like a banshee. Moisture drizzled from her pussy, all over his cock and down his balls.

When she was finished, he shoved her facedown on the bed and hammered his cock into her, over and over again. She couldn’t hold herself up with her wrists bound, so she didn’t try. She just lay flat on her belly and let him use her. He gripped her hair and pounded her pussy, skewering her on his rigid length. He drove deep and hard, almost as if he wanted to break her. To ruin her for anyone else.

He pulled out to come, in his typical fashion. He spread her ass cheeks wide and pressed his cock against her, spurting all over her with a strangled groan. She felt the hot jets painting her buttocks, dripping into her ass.

Then he collapsed on her, sweaty and spent. His cock softened but he didn’t pull away from her. She looked over her shoulder at him, arching her spine. He played with her come-drenched ass languidly, sliding his penis between her buttocks.

She was too satisfied to move, too blissed-out to think. She wanted to promise him her ass if he came back someday, but she didn’t. Begging him to fuck her was one thing. Begging him for a return visit was pathetic.

“Untie me,” she mumbled.

He removed the belt from her wrists and frowned at the red marks. “I didn’t know this was hurting you.”

“I didn’t mind.”

He massaged her skin until the creases faded. Then he rose from the bed and came back with a warm, wet towel. He wiped her buttocks and the crease of her ass, sliding the nubby towel over her sensitive skin. Then he rolled her over and gave her pussy the same special treatment. She felt deliciously swollen and well-fucked. He bent his head to her and licked her pussy, kissing and caressing her tender flesh. Soothing her.

She didn’t think she could come again, but she did. She came without drifting, without panic, without restraints. She came with her pussy mashed against his mouth, her legs spread wide and her hands buried in his hair.

He gentled her with his tongue. Savoring her.

She thought he might leave her then, but he didn’t. He turned off the lights and curled up behind her, enveloping her in his strength and warmth. He held her as if he couldn’t bring himself to let go until the very last minute.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Although he’d been up all night, Ace couldn’t sleep.

He wanted to stay awake with her and memorize every detail. She drifted off for an hour or two, cozy in the cradle of his arms. He buried his nose in her hair, detecting the scent of starchy hotel sheets and cheap shampoo. It usually smelled like cigarettes and Aqua Net, but he loved it either way. He loved her in her trashy makeup, flashing her tits onstage. He loved her in her cowboy boots and worn denim, her face beautiful and bare.

He loved her. Period.

His heart stalled in his chest at this realization. He didn’t
do
love. He’d been with a lot of women, especially in his early twenties, and none of them had inspired tender feelings. He’d never even loved the mother of his child. His emotions were broken.

Or they had been, before Janelle.

He didn’t know how he’d fallen in love with her. They had no basis for a relationship. Driving by her trailer and stalking her didn’t count as quality bonding. Neither did holding her hostage. But he’d felt a stirring of interest the first time he’d seen her, and that stirring had grown into full-blown fascination after he’d taken her captive. His body turned electric when they touched, his senses on high alert. He’d recognized that there was something inside her, like a puzzle piece that fit something inside him.

He wasn’t sure what to do with these feelings, now that he’d identified them. Love didn’t change this situation. It wouldn’t erase any of the wrongs he’d done or fix his problems. He couldn’t tell Janelle that he loved her, either. What good would that do? He didn’t want to see her cry. She didn’t deserve more pain and suffering because of him.

She roused beside him, as if sensing his tension. “What’s wrong?”

He rolled onto his back and tucked his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He was afraid she’d be able to look into his eyes and guess his thoughts. It was disconcerting. Usually he had complete confidence in his poker face. When there were no feelings to hide, appearing unaffected was easy.

She curled up by his side, resting her head on his biceps. “Did you really mean what you said about having no friends?”

He always meant what he said. “Yes.”

“The MC guys aren’t your friends?”

“Some of them used to be.”

She touched the tattoo on his collarbone. It said Dirty Forever, Forever Eleven in cursive script. He hadn’t considered getting the ink covered with something else. Those words were part of him, like battle scars. He might be sober, but he’d never be clean.

“Tell me about them,” she said.

He didn’t know where to start. “I met Cole and Rylan in Slab City. We were just boys. Teenagers.”

“They were your friends?”

He nodded. They’d been a pack of vandals, wreaking havoc on the trailer park. A trio of white-trash desert rats with no money, no future and no parental supervision. “After my mother disappeared, they were my family. I didn’t have anyone else.”

“What happened to them?”

“They moved to Indio to live with their uncle, Wild Bill.”

“The club president,” she said.

“He was a member of White Lightning at the time. He formed his own club after Jester raped Courtney. We all joined eventually. Cole, me and Rylan.”

“Did you like it? Being a part of the club?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He tried to remember the good times, before everything went sour and everyone grew up. Or got killed. “It was fun. We did a shitload of drugs, hustled card games, got in fights. Girls threw pussy at us, especially Cole.”

Her pretty mouth twisted, as if she couldn’t reconcile this description with the sober, severe person he’d become.

“I was a strange kid,” he said, by way of explanation. “I liked hunting and killing things. I hardly ever spoke. When I was drunk, I felt kind of normal, and I fit right in with Dirty Eleven. We were all a bunch of rejects.”

“You don’t feel normal?”

“No.”

“I don’t either.”

He didn’t like hearing her say that. It wasn’t her fault, whatever had happened to her. “Your stepfather was fucked up. Not you.”

She fell silent for a moment, not arguing. “Where are your friends now?”

“Rylan got stabbed last year, on the same job as Shane. Cole is in jail, or maybe he ran off with his old lady. I haven’t been able to track him.”

Her hand wandered down his chest, tracing the happy trail on his stomach. “I’d run away with you, if I didn’t have Jamie.”

“I can’t run, anyway.”

“What can you do?”

His cock lengthened against his thigh, rousing at her touch. He covered her hand with his and trapped it flat against his belly. “Bill offered me a job at the casino. I could work security for him and see Skye every day.”

“Are you going to accept?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“I’d have to get rid of Jester first, and that’s easier said than done. He travels with an entourage. I’d need a whole crew to take him out.” Teamwork wasn’t Ace’s style, and the other Dirty Eleven members weren’t experienced assassins. “A gunfight would cause a club war and bring more heat on me.”

“You’d end up in jail?”

“I’d probably end up dead.”

Her eyes darkened with sorrow. “Why can’t you run?”

He draped his arm around her bare shoulders, stroking her soft skin. He couldn’t run because of her. Jester wouldn’t stop coming after her. Now that Ace had killed one of Jester’s henchmen, the danger was tenfold.

“I got fired last night,” Janelle said, after a pause.

“Why?”

“Kevin said I was causing trouble in the club.”

“You didn’t cause trouble. Jester did.”

“Well, he blamed me and my ‘boyfriend drama.’”

Ace narrowed his eyes at this news. “He sounds like a prick.”

“That’s what I called him.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, pressing his lips to her head.

“I thought you wanted me to quit.”

“I didn’t want you to get fired.”

“How do you feel about me dancing for a living?”

He drew a blank. He was supposed to feel something?

“What if I was your girlfriend, and you weren’t worried about Jester? How would you feel about it?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “You look fucking hot on stage.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

“It doesn’t bother you that I go topless?”

“Should it?”

“What about lap dances?”

He considered the question carefully. He knew she didn’t perform nude or let anyone touch her in the VIP room, but the point was to arouse her customers, and she was very good at her job. When she’d danced for him, she’d flashed her nipples and feigned oral sex, letting her hair brush over his erection. “No. I don’t like it.”

“So I can fuck Tiffany, but lap dances are out?”

“Yes.”

She smiled wryly, pushing away from him.

He wondered why she’d asked him his opinion. He didn’t really expect her to hook up with Tiffany or to stop performing lap dances. If she was his girlfriend, he’d take care of her, and she wouldn’t have to take off her clothes for anyone unless she wanted to. But she wasn’t his, and he couldn’t control her.

She fell silent for a moment, contemplative. “I don’t think I’ll go back to dancing.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “I’m not the same person I was when I started. I’m not even the same person I was when we met.”

He wasn’t the same man, either. He’d been a cold-blooded killer a year ago, working toward an unattainable goal. Now he was still a killer, but he wasn’t as cold. She’d warmed him from the inside out.

Meeting her had changed him.

He laced his fingers through hers. Their eyes met and held. She studied his face as if she could see something good and worthwhile in him. And that was when the solution materialized. “I have to turn myself in.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell the police I was working for Gonzo Lowe.”

“Who’s that?”

“The former president of White Lightning. He’s dead now. I can confess to killing Shane and delivering the ransom money to Lowe.”

“How much time will you do?”

“A lot. I might be able to make a deal for second-degree murder or manslaughter, but I already have a criminal record. I’ll go away for years.”

Maybe even decades.

But he could stay alive in prison as long as he didn’t betray Bill. Loyal outlaws were feared and respected by other inmates. Ace could bargain with Bill for some extra protection against the Aryan Brotherhood. He could make arrangements for Janelle, too. She was safer now that she lived with her mother. She’d be safer with Ace gone.

The main problem was Skye. Ace had to leave his daughter unprotected, and he could kiss his dreams of custody goodbye.

But what choice did he have? He couldn’t go on like this. He was done with high-stakes crime and club violence.

“I don’t want to kill anymore,” he said. “I haven’t since Shane.”

“Because of me?”

“Because of you, and Jamie, and Skye. I want to be a good father, and I can’t if I’m always watching my back.” He also wanted to live to see her grow up. He wanted to live, period. “Turning myself in is the only way.”

She pulled her hand free and clutched the sheet to her chest. “I can’t wait for you.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to.”

Her eyes filled with tears. When he tried to comfort her, she rose from the bed, taking the sheet with her. He wished he could run away with her, but that wasn’t a good option. They’d have to bring her son along, and Ace would never feel secure. He’d rather cut off his hand than put her in danger again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, swallowing hard. “I should have kept my distance.”

She laughed without humor. “You think?”

“I underestimated Jester. That was my mistake.”

“Fuck you,” she said in a tremulous voice. “You knew you were in deep shit, and you pursued me anyway.”

“You could’ve said no, Janelle.”

“I didn’t realize you were this dangerous.”

“Bullshit,” he said, jumping to his feet. “You don’t remember how we met? I used a fucking Taser on you and took you hostage. You watched me kill your ex. There was no question about what I did for a living.”

“You didn’t tell me that your enemy had raped your last girlfriend.”

“I warned you about him, and you didn’t listen, because you’re too fucking stubborn to let a man take care of you!”

“Oh, I should listen to you and let you take care of me? Where would that get me? You’re going to prison for
murder
.”

He cursed under his breath, unable to argue that point.

“I don’t trust men for a reason. Every man who was supposed to take care of me hurt me, and you’re no better than the rest.”

Ace couldn’t believe she would lump him in with a child molester and a deadbeat. He stepped forward, crowding her against the dresser. “Don’t you ever compare me to your stepfather. I’m not him, and I’m not Shane. I never hurt you on purpose.”

“You hunted me down like an animal,” she said from between clenched teeth.

“And you got off on it,” he said. “You agreed to go out with me
because
of what I did to you, not despite it. That whole captivity scenario made your pussy wet.”

Her lips parted in shock. He trapped both arms behind her back, encircling her wrists with one hand. The sheet she’d been holding slipped to the ground between them, leaving her naked in front of him. A pulse fluttered at the base of her throat. Her cheeks were flushed, her nipples taut. His cock roared to life, throbbing with heat and anger.

“Are you going to deny it?” he asked, lifting his gaze to her face.

She lifted her chin, her brown eyes glittering. “Maybe you’re right. The cuffs make me wet, not you.”

He knew that wasn’t true. It wasn’t for him, at least. Restraining her turned him on because it turned
her
on. He’d be hard whether she was tied down or not. Her gorgeous body made him hard, but the combination of her helpless arousal and uninhibited responses undid him. She was a puzzle that became more intriguing every time he played with her. He liked finding new ways to bind her, new ways to fuck her.

“I make you wet,” he said in her ear.

She shivered at his touch. “So will the next guy who ties me up.”

He silenced her with a rough kiss, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth. She couldn’t deny that there was something special between them. She was lashing out at him because he had to leave, and that hurt. She was afraid of what the future would hold. He was afraid, too. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to live without her.

But he couldn’t stay and die.

“No one is ever going to fuck you as good as I do,” he said, breaking the kiss. They were dynamite together, and it wasn’t a simple matter of compatible turn-ons. He was in love with her. Everything about them fit.

His tongue in her mouth. His dick in her pussy. His heart in her hands.

The belt he’d used earlier was lying on the dresser, right next to them. He let go of her wrists and boosted her up on the smooth wood surface. Then he wrapped the belt around her torso and cinched it just below her breasts, trapping her arms at her sides. She wasn’t completely immobile, but she couldn’t fight him, and it looked hot. Every type of restraint looked hot on her. He liked the cuffs, the belt, the collar...

Fuck.

His cock was stiff as a poker, sticking straight up. She glanced at it, moistening her lips. Yeah, she wanted
his
cock. Not any cock. He took himself in hand, stroking up and down while she watched.

“Who are you wet for?”

She just stared at him, defiant.

“Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

Her eyes drifted shut, but her thighs were parted wide. Her pussy lips glistened in invitation, pink and pretty.

“Who owns that sweet pussy?”

“You do,” she whispered.

Jesus, she was hot. “Whose cock do you want?”

“Yours.”

“Why mine?”

“Because it’s...big.”

He squeezed the base of his shaft. “What else?”

“It fills up my pussy.”

“Who do you need?”

She opened her eyes. “You.”