Wild Aces (4 page)

“You must be one of Derek’s drinking buddies,” I said, continuing the small talk as the bartender poured.

“Because I ordered a beer?”

That, yes, and because there was something remotely Derek-ish about him…about the scruff that surrounded his mouth and the rough, demanding nature of his gray eyes. They were so cold, so intriguing. I shivered.

I kept that all to myself.

“IPA is Derek’s favorite, so call it a hunch,” I said.

“Are you a friend of his, too?”

“I’m Brea, his wife’s best friend.” I reached out and let him take my hand.

The coarse texture on his fingers scraped against my skin. Net, a hacker friend of mine from college, had the same kind of hands. His came from rolling joints and eating with his fingers in all the strange places he traveled to for work.

I wondered how the masked man had gotten his.

“Trapper,” he said. “An old client of Derek’s.”

So, he wasn’t whom I thought. He was a mystery man I knew nothing about, and that made him even more appealing.

“Nice to meet you.” I found myself hanging on, not wanting to let go of his hand. It was warm but not overwhelming, strong and forceful but not enough to hurt.

“Two pinots,” the bartender said, setting both glasses on top of the bar. “Can I get you anything else?”

I dropped Trapper’s hand and reached for the glasses. I knew I’d held it longer than I should have, but I didn’t regret it. “Nope, that’s it,” I said. “Thanks.”

Trapper picked up his IPA, and we stepped away from the bar. I felt him behind me as I wove around the short line of people and made my way past the fireplace. He slowed as I did and moved to my side.

“So, did you buy a condo at Timber Towers?” I asked. “That high rise of Derek’s is a masterpiece.”

“No. I live around here.”

“Good choice. I love the Back Bay.”

My feet stopped when I reached the dining room. I didn’t know why I had chosen this quiet section of the house or why I wanted to hear more of his voice or why I still couldn’t place the part of him that seemed so familiar. But he stopped, too, and made no attempt to leave.

I followed his eyes as he focused on the glasses in my hand. “Isn’t someone waiting for one of those?” he asked.

“It’s for Derek’s wife.” A waiter immediately approached with a tray of sushi. “Can I ask you to deliver this to Frankie, the hostess of the party?” I held out the glass.

“Of course. My pleasure,” he said as he took it from me. “Can I offer you a rainbow roll?”

Maybe it was nerves or the fear of my breath smelling like raw fish, but I couldn’t fathom putting anything besides this glass near my lips. “No, thanks.”

“I’m good,” Trapper said.

Suddenly, we were alone again. I was wearing four-inch heels, yet he stood quite a bit taller than me, making him around six-three. His gray shirt and dark pants hugged his fit body, and his clunky black boots more than hinted at his attention to style. A single rolled-up sleeve revealed intricate black designs that were inked on his skin.

“Your date must be looking for you by now,” I said, certain I was being more obvious than I’d intended.

“No one is looking for me.”

His name was Trapper, he wore a Batman mask, and he didn’t have a date. Derek had worked on a property of his. He had tattoos, he lived in a place nearby, and the pads of his fingers were rough. I knew nothing more about him. So, why did I feel this intense pull, a surge of desire, a longing to know more? It was a sensation so deep, it glued my feet to the wood floor beneath them.

“That makes two of us.” I leaned into the wall behind me and took a sip of my wine as I thought of what to say next.

It was strangely hot to be gazing into this superhero’s eyes and extremely confusing at the same time. Despite how much of his face was covered, I could feel his sensuality radiating through the latex. He looked at me and ran his hand over the top of the mask. I wondered what kind of hair was underneath. Would he skim a buzz cut or slide through waves with those wide palms and long fingers of his? I had to squeeze the glass to keep from dropping it.

“What do you do, Brea?”

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who wanted to know more.

“I run the leasing division of Frankie’s real estate company.”

“You don’t seem like the type who would evict me for not paying my rent.”

“Yeah, well…I’m not as soft as I look.”

He glanced down at my lips, his stare boring into me. It seemed that I had his full attention, but I wanted to make sure I held it, so I licked the inside of my lip. He watched every second of it, which earned him a smile.

“I wouldn’t say you look soft.”

“No?” I asked. “How would you say I look then?”

“Gorgeous.”

I bit my lip.
Gorgeous?
With half of my face covered, how could he possibly tell? Maybe he was referring to my body. I’d crammed it into a bandage dress and bound it so tightly, I couldn’t even take a deep breath. Whatever the reason, his answer was forward, unreserved…and I liked that.

“I can’t give you the same compliment, Batman. Although, I can say, I’m a fan of your ink.”

I felt his eyes on me as I tried to decipher his designs. He held his beer midair, controlling how much of his arm he would allow me to see.

“I’ve got one, too. It’s just a small one.” I turned to show him the inside of my forearm where the word
warrior
was tattooed, just before the crook.

He glanced at it. “I don’t doubt that you are one.”

It sounded like more than a general response, more than a casual agreement. It sounded like he had watched the last two years of my life play on a screen inside my head. It sounded like he knew that was what I had been feeling the day I’d gotten it done. It was the first time in a year I’d inhaled and not felt the stinging, burning pain during the exhale.

It wasn’t the needle I had been scared of that morning as Frankie and I cabbed it to the tattoo shop. It was fear that I wouldn’t live up to the meaning of the word, that I’d fall shy of the definition. I’d go back to that dark, hopeless place with its drab walls and colorless roof. That was really my fear.

“Come back to me, Brea.”

My eyes were on his arm rather than my own. It was his voice that brought me back from that ugly drift. How had he known I’d left in the first place? Was I that obvious?

“I’m here,” I said.

Warmth spread over my cheeks, knowing the mask could only hide some of it. I was ashamed I had allowed myself to go there so easily in front of him, but I wasn’t ashamed that he’d witnessed it. Maybe the comfort came from Trapper’s mouth. It looked so much like Cody’s with a large dip on the top, the full bottom, and all of it wrapped in soft pale red flesh. I liked the familiarity. It was what I hadn’t pinpointed earlier. Or maybe I had prevented myself from seeing it, refusing to compare a stranger to the man I’d loved more than anyone else in the world.

“Are you going to keep chewing your lip like that?” he asked. “Or do you want me to take over for a while?”

A shiver ran through my whole body. “I’m not—”

His face moved closer, dangerously closer. “Yes, you are, Brea. You’re teasing me, and I can only take that shit for so long.”

Was that what I was doing? Or was he the one teasing me with his amazing scent? I had finally gotten a whiff of it. It started with a faint hint of wheat from the beer he was sipping and dissolved into a strong citrus-and-sandalwood cologne. It reminded me of brisk fall nights, a crackling fire, and something smooth like satin.

I never knew a scent—or a mask—could be so enticing, but I felt the effects of it everywhere. And since the dress was too tight for panties, there was nothing to catch it if it dripped out of me.

“You would…bite me?” I asked.

A ringtone interrupted us. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. “Yes?” he said as he answered.

Even on the phone he was no-nonsense and direct. And he didn’t move, didn’t fake the need for privacy to take his call. I could hear the voice of his caller. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but her tone sounded frantic.

His smoky eyes stayed locked with mine as he spoke, “You only have one shot. Make it happen. I want updates.” He hung up abruptly.

“Apparently, someone
is
looking for you.”

His stare turned hooded as I pressed my back fully against the wall.

“So, what do you do, Trapper?”

“I work with numbers.”

I waited for more, but there was nothing. “Don’t we all—in some capacity?”

“What you asked me a second ago, before my phone rang…” He took my wine and my clutch and laid them next to his beer on the table beside us.

Then his hand was on my cheek, his fingers snaking into my hair. His touch was startling and unexpected. I didn’t move away from it but leaned into it instead. After a few seconds, there was no settling, no getting used to the feeling he stirred. It was just flutter after flutter with no break in between.

“My answer is yes,” he breathed, “I would definitely bite this.” His thumb slowly grazed back and forth across my mouth.

“Don’t you at least want to know my last name before you sink your teeth into me?”

“Do I need to know it?”

I supposed he didn’t. But maybe I wanted to know his. And what kind of numbers he worked with. And what he looked like under his mask. None of those answers would stop the tremors in my stomach or the ones in my pussy.

“No,” I finally said. “But there is something I want to know.”

“Ask.”

“Why do you want to bite me?”

His fingers tightened on my cheeks. “Let me show you…”

My breath must have been enough of a response because his teeth were suddenly on my lip, nibbling the bottom ever so softly but with enough power and wetness to make me weak. My legs felt like they were splitting the sides of this incredibly tight dress, so they could spread and wrap around his deliciously close waist.

“Trapper…”

His tongue skimmed my skin as he nipped, like he was soothing it after he’d roughed it up. I practically shuddered as he moved on to the next spot.

“Kiss me,” I begged.

I didn’t recognize the lust in my voice or the neediness at the end of each word. But I knew I couldn’t wait another second for this man to give me his tongue. The biting was the perfect foreplay.

Now, I wanted to taste him back.

He licked the edge of my mouth and pulled away, leaving his lips hanging in front of mine. A hair of space separated us.

“Say it again.” His pupils were dilated, and he gripped my waist with such force that he was squeezing the words out of me.

“Kiss—”

His mouth was on mine, his tongue gliding in and pausing so that I could feel and taste, before moving to another spot. This didn’t feel like a first kiss. There was no awkwardness, no trying to establish a tempo, and no learning the places inside me. This was a kiss from a man who somehow already knew every inch of my body.

I didn’t want him to stop.

Trapper

I held Brea so goddamn tightly, her mask was about to crumble in my hand. Biting her hadn’t been enough. This kissing only made me want her more. Naked with her legs spread in front of me—it was the only way I could feed this hunger. There was something about this girl…

What the fuck are you doing?

Every time that thought circled back, I pushed it aside. Tasting her mouth—any woman’s mouth—wasn’t on the agenda tonight. I came here to learn Block’s crowd, pick up a buyer or two, relax with a couple of beers, and give my mind a break from the tournament. If I needed a distraction, I could have found some fresh cunt at Aced. An hour, maybe less, was all it would take. But this wasn’t a diversion; this was intentional.

From the moment I’d heard Brea’s voice at the bar, I wondered what it would be like to hear her moan. And it sounded so good when I got her to, when I bit into her lip and she responded with that soft groan.

I didn’t give a shit that I hadn’t seen what was under her mask. I could see everything I needed to. She wasn’t one of those skinny girls with bones where there should have been flesh. She had curves to grasp, perfectly sized tits to get lost in. A body that I needed to worship. Lips that would fit perfectly around my cock as I slid it toward the back of her throat. But her eyes were what drew me in the most. They’d seen a hell of a lot of pain. She’d seen even more of it when she’d shown me her tattoo. Wherever she had gone—a flashback, a memory—I had been to that place. And when I looked into her eyes, it was like looking into my own.

My dick wasn’t just twitching now; it was fucking pounding against my pants. The deeper she let me in, the tighter I held her. The pounding only got worse.

I couldn’t have her here, and I couldn’t take her home. Once her dress was on my floor, I knew I wouldn’t want to leave her. But I
had
to leave. I still had to stop by Aced tonight and the compound to get a good look at Adrianna’s pickup, and then I’d fly out tomorrow morning.

Brea gripped my biceps as I clutched the back of her dress. The thought of ripping it off her rushed through my head, or maybe we could just find an empty room somewhere where I could pull down the front and bite her nipples while I finger-fucked her.