Page 63 of Bad Men

“He won’t touch you again,” I vowed. “I swear it.”

The liquid surface of her golden eyes glimmered in the faint light shimmering through the lace curtains over the sink. They peered up at me with a trust I didn’t deserve but was too much of a coward to walk away from. She smiled and, although it was weak and void of its usual glow, it warmed all the dead places inside me like the sun chasing away the rain. Her fingers slipped across the back of my head and I was nudged to her.

It was unclear how something as simple as the warm brush of our lips turned into a battle to remove my belt and her shorts. There was nothing but a blur of anxious hands tearing at clothes, tearing at each other. Lips and teeth mashed with ravenous hunger, refusing to part even when I slammed up inside her and she wailed. The table rocked violently. Something crashed, shattering into a million jagged pieces across the worn linoleum. The sound was lost somewhere beneath the grunts and groans as I drove into Mia’s wet heat with the wild abundance of a madman. I tore off her top and chucked it somewhere, never wanting to see it on her again. Her miles of soft skin burned beneath my touch, my mouth, the hard nip of my teeth. She smelled of soap and something lavender, and I hated it, hated the absence of my scent on her. It only propelled me to pound harder.

“Dav!” she sobbed, twisting the material of my top into her fists and clinging. “Don’t stop! I’m so close!”

With a sound between a snarl and a growl, I tore out of her just long enough to flip her over, bend her face down across the cold surface of her family’s table.

“I want you to remember this every time you sit here with your family,” I taunted into the soft curve of her ear. One hand tucked beneath the knee of her right leg and dragged the limb up, forcing her onto the tiptoes of her left foot and widening her stance. “I want you to think of me inside you and you begging me to fuck you.”

I was inside her again, slower this time, feeding myself in inch by inch. When I was halfway in, I slammed up the rest of the way, driving harder with each thrust. Mia clawed the scarred surface, dragging herself high enough to anchor her fingers along metal trimmed edges. I clamped my hands over hers, draping my chest over her arching spine and shackling her into place.

“I’m coming,” she choked, hot breath spraying in a white fog across the plastic. “Dav … God!”

The fingers under mine clenched, digging sharp knuckles into my palm as her entire body seized beneath me. Her center convulsed around my pounding dick, gushing with the sweet spray of her release. I stayed inside her, moving against her rippling walls, milking the last of her tremors before yanking free and unloading across the smooth globe of her ass.

The sight of the thick, white ropes staining her sweat soaked skin both elated and disappointed me. I had a rule against fucking anyone without a condom. Our world was too fucked up and dangerous to worry about a life I stupidly brought into it, and while I was fairly certain I’d pulled out in time, I made a mental note to talk to Mia about alternative protection, especially if this was going to be an ongoing thing for us.

“You okay?” The woman in question peered at me from over her shoulder, her cheeks bright with a tempting afterglow.

I pushed my reckless mistake aside and helped her off the table. She grunted a little when I eased her leg down but seemed fine otherwise.

“Okay?” I asked anyway.

Mia nodded. “Wasn’t expecting that, not that I’m complaining.”

I smirked and kissed her softly, tracing the corners of her mouth lightly before nudging the seam with the tip of my tongue. My palms traced the curve of her ribs, stopping only when they pressed flat against her spine. I drew her into me, carving her front to mine in all the places that mattered.

“No…” she whimpered, pulling back. “Don’t get me started again. I don’t know how much time we have before my parents get back and I need to start supper.” Her big eyes searched mine, a teasing little ghost of a grin playing around her lips. “You know, you guys aren’t nearly as clever as you think.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I think I’m very clever, actually. Nero’s the one who could use a little more work.”

Her laugh, light and painfully feminine sent a ripple of glee through me. “I’m sure he would disagree, but I was talking about—”

Whatever she’d figured out was silenced by the rattle of keys and raised voices from the front of the house.

Mia’s eyes bulged with panic as she shoved me away and scrambled to put her clothes on. I did the same, but with not nearly as much hurry. In fact, I spent the majority of those precious seconds sliding my belt through the loops.

“My parents!” she hissed to me as she searched for her top. “They’re home early. You need to go. Out the back. Go!”

I didn’t move. Not because I wanted us to get caught but watching her rush around the table to scoop up her discarded top and frantically shove it down over her head made me realize something — I was already going to hell. I had already fallen so goddamn deep in this mess that I had absolutely no idea how I was going to crawl out. I had broken every rule for this woman. I had demolished them to nothing. Without them, I had no guidelines, no sense of what to do next. The only thing my confusion understood was the extent of my desire for her. I needed her the way I had never needed anyone in my life. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do about that, but I knew what I wanted in that moment and, if I was going to hell, I was going to at least enjoy the ride.

“Have dinner with me and Nero.”

In the process of yanking her hair out of her collar, she froze. “What?”

“At the apartment. I’ll make you my favorite dish.”

Her mouth opened, no doubt a protest teetering on her swollen lips, but the front door took that moment to swing open, spilling in a rush of her parent’s voices into the next room.

“Dav, please,” she begged.

I shook my head. “I mean it. Change your clothes.” I dug into my back pocket and pulled my wallet free. Several crumpled bills were slapped down on the table. “Tell your parents to order dinner tonight. Then meet me outside. If you’re not there in fifteen minutes, I’m coming back in here to get you.”

With her horror-stricken expression a lovely picture in my memory, I edged out of her kitchen and out the backdoor.

Chapter Twelve — Nero

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