Wild (8 page)

“A smart girl would slap you and leave. But I barely passed my classes with Cs and a girl's got needs. Consider this your lucky day.”

Lucky? He'd hit the damned jackpot. He couldn't believe she wasn't arguing or forcing him to resort to his most seductive tricks.

On the contrary, their roles had almost reversed. Now it wasn't only him kissing and touching and stripping. He couldn't help but stiffen when her hands reached for the waistband of his track pants just as he reached for hers. He almost shuddered in delight as she tugged the cottony fabric down over his hips, getting caught on his shaft. She worked it free, and his cock sprang out, slapping her tummy in the process. She laughed as she caught it with one hand.

“Eager?”

“Since the moment I met you, sweetheart.” So true. He'd not been able to stop thinking of her since their first meeting.

She stroked a slim hand up the length of him. “I should lie and say I don't want you.”

“But?”

She sighed. “While I find myself often irritated by your antics, I am still stupidly attracted to you.”

“Because it's fate.”

“Or a sign I let my lack of a sex life go on too long.”

Mine.
No other man would ever touch his woman. From here on out, Lulu would have the most active sex life imaginable, and since theirs was a true mating, the craving would only get stronger.

Stripped of clothing, they stepped into the shower, the hot spray striking at the top of their heads and sluicing down their bodies. Numerous jets fired, rotating streams, pummeling their bodies from two directions at once.

Lulu laughed. “Oh my god. This shower is amazing.”

Not as amazing as her. She tilted her head back into the water, closing her eyes, letting the water stream over the creamy skin of her face. Her usually curly red hair straightened in the wetness, the bright red darkening in hue and stretching down to almost tickle the top of her ass.

A water nymph with the most glorious set of breasts. The perfect globes called to him, and he cupped the pair, weighing them in his palms as his thumbs stroked the tips to erection.

A soft sigh parted her lips, and she arched her upper body, offering herself to him. He wasn't about to refuse.

He bent his head and took the tip of a nipple into his mouth. A tremor went through her. He latched on, his mouth sucking at the erect bud, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin.

She clasped his head against her breast while making moans of encouragement. He switched to the other side, lavishing it with the same attention, but this time, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her as her knees weakened and she wobbled.

He pressed her against the wall with the alcove for soap and shampoo, an anchor to prop her that he might continue his exploration. Down his lips traveled, away from the berries that tasted so sweet, farther down to the cream he could smell and wanted to lick.

A nuzzle of her mound had her twitching her hips. They were past words, but it didn't mean the shower enclosure remained silent. She panted. She moaned. She sucked in a breath when he flicked his tongue against her pussy.

“Spread your legs for me.” The softly murmured command had her spreading them, not arguing for once. Why argue against something they both wanted?

Exposed to him, her pussy beckoned. It needed a lick. A nice, long lick.

“Oh.”

A longer lick with a flick.

“Oh.”
More deeply uttered.

A rapid back and forth against her pleasure button and he almost got knocked backward as her hips thrust forward. But he kept his balance, in no little part because she aggressively held him by the hair, anchoring him in place, making a very clear demand that he not stop.

As if he'd stop licking her so soon. He'd just started, and his plan was to not stop until she came. Given the tension in her body and the raggedness of her breath, it wouldn't take much more to push her over the edge.

The flavor of her enticed, a womanly ambrosia like no other. It aroused him, and his cock pulsed between his thighs while his sac hung heavy.

Her keening cry went well with the shuddering of her body as she climaxed against his mouth and tongue. He reveled in the way she trembled, giving herself to him, trusting herself with him. How beautiful she appeared in that moment.

Despite her evident pleasure, he did not stop the flicks of his tongue. He kept her quivering and crying out. He flicked her swollen button and caught it with his lips. Her fingers tore at his hair, her hips bucking in his grip.

He could wait no longer.

Rising, he lifted one of her legs, wrapping it around his hip and opening her to him, exposing her to his cock. He nudged the entrance to her sex, pushing against the swollen, trembling flesh and sucking in a breath at the tight suction of her channel as he drove his shaft in.

Tight. Hot. Pulsing.

It was almost more than he could bear. But he pushed on, pushed in, deeper, sheathing himself fully in her glorious body.

She murmured small words of encouragement, dirty words that only raised his frenzied level of excitement.

Soon, he found himself pounding her soft flesh, sinking to the hilt. Her sex fisted him delightfully, the muscles of her channel gripping him so tightly. In and out he thrust, and while their lower bodies connected, so did their lips.

He knew she must taste herself on him, and yet she didn't pull away. She embraced him back just as fiercely, her passion still wild and beautiful. A passion for him.

She's mine.
His woman. Oh yes.

The thought had him leaving the glory of her mouth for the soft hollow between her neck and shoulder. The skin felt like silk under his lips. He latched onto it, sucking his chosen spot, even as his hips pistoned, driving his cock in and out of her welcoming body.

Her fingers scrabbled at his back, clawing at him as her own pleasure reached its peak again. And when she came that glorious second time, he joined her, his whole body rigid in that moment, frozen within her as his seed spilled forward.

And his teeth sank into her skin, breaking it. Marking it. Claiming her.

Mine.

Rawr
.

 

CHAPTER 10

Waking on the plush bed, Lulu stretched, muscles pleasantly sore because she'd had sex with Broderick.

Damn. I had sex with Brody.

What was I thinking?

She was thinking it felt good, and right, and amazing. Even now, with her mind clear, her body sated, she couldn't regret the bout of passion they'd shared first in the shower and then the bed. The man was a tiger in the sack.

She even had the bite mark to prove it. At least he'd done it on her shoulder, which meant she could easily hide it. However, she hoped she could wipe the silly grin from her lips, an annoying side effect it seemed, which happened whenever she thought of him.

What a ridiculously girly reaction, but she couldn't help it. The guy was too cute to hate, too fun to hurt, too sexy to resist.

He was also a criminal working with the city's mob.

Aw, hell. What did I get myself into?
Trouble, for one. She rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in the pillow then uttered a deep groan.

Stupid. So stupid.
How could she have allowed herself to get involved with Brody? Hormones weren't an excuse. She should have had better control, but in her defense, she blamed him for her insane attraction. Stupid jerk was just too freaking cute, and to add even more fuel to that fire, how could a girl resist a guy who asserted they were soul mates? Meant to be together. Forever.

It was enough to make her groan again, not because of his clingy assertion but more because she kind of wished it were true. While not usually given to fantasy wishes of a happily and totally romantic ever after, pragmatic Lulu couldn't deny its appeal.

How would it feel to be the focus of one man, a man she found equally attractive? Wait, she already knew. It felt great. Wonderful. She never wanted it to end.

Sigh. But that would never happen. They came from two vastly different mind-sets. His secret was damning, but then again, so was hers. Once he found out what she hid, he'd ditch her faster than she could bend over to distract him.

It amused—and flattered her—that Brody was distracted by pretty, shiny things, or in her case, naked and inviting. She'd discovered her power over him the previous night when she left the bed to use the bathroom. In the midst of talking to her, telling her, of all things, about the time he'd streaked naked through his neighborhood and then for weeks after put up with seventy-seven-year-old Mrs. Hinklesmith winking at him, she emerged from the bathroom, still completely bare skinned. Spotting her shirt, which somehow got kicked out of the bathroom, she stooped to snag it. She flashed him big time, and he reacted by stopping midsentence and staring. Then crooking a finger.

She never did find out if Mrs. Hinklesmith stopped her flirting.

However, the knowledge of how to throw him off track proved valuable. But would it be enough to diminish her secret if he ever found out?

Speaking of secrets. Right now the world still believed she'd perished in the fire. Even if they didn't, no one knew where she was. Not good. If she didn't want Daddy going on a rampage to hunt her down—and he would, possibly accidentally killing people in the process—then she needed to get to a phone.
Except my phone is back at the club in my office where the fire started.
She sighed as dread slumped her at the thought of calling and filling out the necessary paperwork to cancel bank and credit cards, as well as getting a new driver's license issued.

Lacking a purse with her stuff didn't mean she still didn't want a phone. Surely there was one around here somewhere.

Rolling to her side, she took stock of the room. She didn't sense anyone around, but it never hurt to take a peek, especially given how quietly the men she'd met over the past few days moved. It didn't take long to confirm she appeared alone. No sign of the growly sexy Brody. A shame.

Wrong answer. It was good he'd left. She had calls to make. Calls he shouldn't hear. She also needed to find a way to put distance between them. She needed to fight his allure, a task that would prove a lot easier if she wasn't naked when she met him.

When she sat up, the soft linen sheet fell to her waist, baring her upper body and triggering an automatic reflex to cover her boobs with her arms. Nakedness wasn't something Lulu indulged in much. At home, she always wore at least a T-shirt and panties.

If people were going to be around, then she covered up, which some might find ironic since she worked in a strip club. But never mind where she worked. She always felt better and more prepared when armed with clothes.

Of course, clothes weren't something she spotted as she peered around. Even her dirty shirt from the night before seemed to have vanished. Brody tidying up before leaving?

He didn't seem the type. First of all, he was a guy. The guys she knew were pretty lazy when it came to housework. Lulu once asked her mother why she didn't shove her dad's straying socks into his mouth while he snored at night. Her mother laughed and said boys will be boys. A pushover? Not really. Mother got him back in more devious ways.

Relaxing at home for the Super Bowl? Aunt Henny came over with her three little boys, who were in a cops-and-robbers phase that involved lots of siren noises.

I wonder what bad habits Brody has if dirty laundry is off the list.
She'd need something to use against him.

A startling thought, given not a moment ago she'd made a vow to stay away from him. The geeky mobster had a way of slipping under her defenses and disarming her.

Focus on the now. She needed to contact some people and let them know she lived. On her second glance around the room, she spotted a cordless phone nestled in a charging cradle on a side table across from the bed.

It took her a moment to decide. Should she streak naked across the fifteen feet or so to make her call—and possibly still be naked when Brody walked in? Maybe he'd take her in his arms and …

Clothed it was. She peered at the soft sheet pooled in her lap. She dragged the hem to her neck, covering her upper body. It would do.

She mentally apologized to whoever would have to remake the bed, but she wasn't comfortable wandering around without a stich on in a mobster's house—in the hopes of seducing a certain geeky one—and she certainly couldn't imagine calling her contact while in the buff.

Wouldn't the boys who knew her have some choice things to say? Until she punched them in the face to make them eat their words, or outshot them on the range. Don't judge her too harshly. Her father had wanted a son. He got Lulu. She didn't really mind. Her dad loved her. However, given his expectations, it meant Lulu had to be twice as tough. Not everyone could handle it. Her mother certainly tried to get her to swing in a more girly direction. However, with her wild red mop and her lack of interest in fashion or makeup, Lulu often missed the girly-girl mark. But, for her mother, she'd made an effort, and now that she was older, was glad her mother had encouraged a softer side to her persona. A softer side that emerged naturally with Brody. Not that he seemed to care which side he got. He always smiled around her.

Except when he was saving me from that fire.
The grim determination she recalled was possibly even sexier.

Distracted again. Argh.
Get your butt moving.
Sheet wrapped toga-style, she shuffled to the phone, cursing as her feet tangled in the large swath of fabric. She plopped into the velvety, blue, corduroy-covered club chair perched alongside a square wooden table. She couldn't help but run a finger along its shiny wooden surface. Someone had polished it so well it reflected her appearance.

Straggly hair with swollen lips from too many—not enough!—kisses. In other words, a mess.