Page 90 of Bull Rush

“That’s my girl,” Ramsey whispers against my skin.

I lift my lashes to look at Curtis, and if it was possible for him to kill me with one look alone, I’d be dead. His eyes drift over me with disgust but lock on the way Ramsey pulls my shorts and panties down. Ramsey turns me slightly, keeping me partially obscured from Curtis as he drags them over my ass and thighs, all the way down to the floor, where I step out of them. Ramsey’s hands coast their way back up my legs, and my nerve endings all wake in their trail.

“Oh, he misses this,” Ramsey whispers in my ear when he’s standing straight again. “He can’t stop watching.” He dips his fingers inside me, and I close my eyes again, focusing on how good he feels. He starts to pump them in and out, and I can hear the sound of myself getting wetter as he works me over. It feels loud in this room with just the three of us, like it’s echoing off the tiles.

“Fuck,” Ramsey curses. “She feels so good. If I were you, I don’t know if I’d want to live in a world where I didn’t get to have her again. There were days I wished I would die out on that field if it meant I didn’t have to miss her anymore. That much I pity youfor.”

My fingers drift over his traps as I try to steady myself when his fingers work me deeper, and his thumb starts to tease a circle around my clit. I inhale sharply when he hits me just right, and I can feel both sets of their eyes on me.

“The trick with her, by the way, is you have to listen carefully and take your time. Every breath, every moan—she tells you what she needs. If you’re good enough for her, the way she comes is the most beautiful fucking sound on earth.

“I guess you wouldn’t know, since she was always faking it for you, trying not to crush your ego. Then again, I guess you did hear the real thing once. I bet she didn’t get a chance to tell you that yet, though… That when you were making her call you daddy on the phone, it was my tongue between her thighs making her moan like that. It was my come she was soaked in while you were trying to get that pathetic fucking dick of yours working. Me, who she’s always begging for more of.” Ramsey taunts Curtis, and I feel filthy in the best way. I’m dying for more from him—more of his hands, more of his words, more of Ramsey taking what he wants from me and giving me what I need. There’s one thing I want more than anything though.

“Ramsey, please.”

“You need more, sugar?”

“Yes. Your tongue.”

He gives a wicked grin, and then he slides everything off to the side of the kitchen counter before he hoists me up on top of it, angling me so that Curtis can still watch us without seeing all of me.

“Spread for me, sugar; let him remember one last time.” Ramsey’s fingers make their way up and down the insides of my thighs. He looks over at Curtis and grins. “You’re gonna like this show. Gonna be real sorry you didn’t get one last chance to do this for her.”

The second Ramsey’s tongue hits me, I already know itwon’t take long. I have a sick fucking kink I didn’t know about, apparently, because I feel like every part of my body is on fire, swollen, tender, and ready to burst the second he touches me just right. I’m loving every second of making Curtis watch this—knowing it’s probably ripping him apart the same way it did me to find out he’d been using me, lying to me. Knowing he’s going to find out that my husband is better than him at everything.

Ramsey takes his time with me, though, like he wants to make a show of how much he loves tasting me. This was a thing he excelled at. He’d spend hours between my legs, kissing and sucking and teasing in intervals, edging me to the brink and back again while we’d watch a movie, until he’d get me well and truly begging for him.

My fingers thread through his hair as he starts to coax the first soft edges of my orgasm from me. I tighten my grip on his shoulder, digging my nails in and using it as an anchor to fuck his tongue. His fingers take on a faster rhythm, and I’m practically panting by the time I feel the blinding white bloom of my release.

“Oh fuck…” I cry out. “Please. Ramsey! Fuck!” I can feel the gentle scrape of his teeth and the tension as he starts to suck hard on my clit.

My nails slip down his shoulder, and I lose my grip. I’m sure I’ve torn into his skin with how sharp this set is, but he doesn’t say a word. His focus is all on me. I let myself slide back on the counter and give him full control to finish me off. His tongue takes on a punishing pace, and his fingers work me into a second wave.

I glance over at Curtis, and his eyes are wide, watching every move we make. But I barely get to look before I’m cursing again, begging Ramsey to put me out of my misery just before he finally slows down, languidly licking over every lastbit of me like he doesn’t want to miss a single drop. It gives me one last wave of pleasure that licks through every nerve ending in my body. I collapse back against the cold stone counter, letting it cool my heated skin. I’m trying to let my heart rate slow when I see Ramsey stand and walk toward Curtis.

FORTY-FOUR

Ramsey

Haze is still comingdown from the high of being thoroughly fucked while her ex watches. Curtis can’t seem to take his eyes off her, and I half wonder if I’m giving him more enjoyment than he deserves just by letting him see her fall apart for me. But I wanted him to know—needed him to know—that any thought he’s ever had about her coming harder for him, wanting him more, or loving him more than me is dead fucking wrong. Haze and I could be separated by thousands of miles, and our hearts would still beat in sync like we were made for each other. I can only imagine how much it fucking hurts to be the one who wants her but knows he could only ever come in second best.

I stand over him; his brow is sweaty, and his eyes dart between me and Hazel. He struggles against the tape that’s been keeping his hands secure again, trying to lurch forward in the chair like it might threaten me somehow. I rip the duct tapeoff and pull back the rag, grabbing his jaw in my hand and squeezing so hard I’m half worried I might break it. Then I spit straight into his mouth.

His eyes go wide with surprise, but when he starts to speak, I backhand him across the cheek. It’s so hard that I hear the crack of my bones against his, and I feel the sting of it.

“That’s the last taste of her you’ll ever get. So fucking savor it.”

He’s still dazed and blinking when I shove the rag back into his mouth and put the tape back in place. It’s struggling to adhere to his sweaty cheek now, so I double it, and then triple it. The last thing I want is to hear him say one more word about her. I look back at Hazel, who’s easing off the counter and grabbing her clothes. She slips back into them quietly, and then she looks at me. There’s a question on her face. It’s a simple one, but one I don’t have an answer to yet. I need time to think, and I haven’t had that. It’s only been act since the moment I saw his hands on her—wanting to kill him and then having to talk myself down, reminding myself that if I kill him, I’ll lose her in the process. It’s not worth it, however much I might want it. We need to find out who he works for. What he’s looking for that he’s willing to go to these kinds of extremes.

“Go pull the truck up to the back deck,” I say soft enough that only she can hear me. “And call Bo while you’re out there. Tell him I’ve got a one-point safety.”

She nods her understanding, trusting that I’ve got a plan—and I do, it just might be a little half-cocked. But we’ll figure it out, especially once I have Bo and my brothers’ help. That’s who I need more than anyone right now because I can’t shake the feeling that they know more about this than they’ve been letting on.

I send Haze on her way, and then I take Curtis—chair, duct tape, and all—and drag him over the den rug. I shove the furnitureout of the way as he watches, and I can see his wheels turning. He thinks he’s going to die, and the panic is setting in as he struggles against his restraints.

“I told you not to fucking come back here again. But you couldn’t stay away.” I shake my head, keeping an eye on him always as I move the last of the furniture off the rug.

He makes a groaning sound against the rag in his mouth, clearly trying to bargain with me, but I ignore him.

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