Fighting Dirty
Page 30

“Armie,” she whispered. “Please. Come up here to me.”
His heavy heart beat like a bass drum. Sentiment tried to well up, but Rissy tugged at his ear.
“Armie,” she pleaded. “I want to feel you inside me.”
God, he wanted that, too. To be a part of her, to take everything from her, at least everything physical.
Taking his time, he nibbled his way back up her body. Her skin was now dewy, her scent intensified and twice as rousing.
When he reached her mouth, she smiled and said, “That was pretty amazing.”
“Yeah.” He kissed her neck to keep from letting her blue eyes consume him.
“I see you’re not surprised,” she teased. “But it was a revelation for me.”
“I love eating you, Rissy.”
She hugged him tight. “I liked going down on you.”
His arms constricted around her. He wanted her to be his, but he had no right to expect that. Hadn’t he already told her that no one could know about them?
Hating that thought, he levered up and reached to the nightstand to snag a condom. Once he had it, he fell to his back and tore it open with his teeth.
“Already?” she asked, sounding a little worried.
“Yeah.” He seemed to be the master of one-word answers tonight. With haste, he rolled it on and braced himself over her again. Beautiful. Her feathery lashes lowered and she bit her bottom lip. Aroused color clung to her cheekbones. Armie kissed her, at first barely there, then pressing firmer, touching his tongue to her soft lips, slowly licking in until they were involved in a hot, wet mating of the mouths.
When her arms crept up around his neck, he kneed her legs farther apart and wedged one hand down between their bodies.
So slippery, soft and ready. He slicked his fingertips over her, parting her, spreading her wetness, then pushed two fingers into her.
She freed her mouth from his and put her head back. “Ah... God.”
Pleasure pulsated, expanding and withdrawing, until all he could see, all he could feel and taste and smell was Rissy. He took her mouth again, drunk on kissing her, raw with need. He worked her with his fingers until she was again ready, then shifted, nudged against her with his cock and slowly sank in.
They groaned roughly together.
Rissy immediately moved against him, lifting into him with a frantic rhythm.
He gentled her with a hand to her hip. “Slow down, babe. Nice and easy.” He didn’t want to come too quickly, not with her.
Her nails sank into his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can.”
Pulling her hands down and lacing her fingers with his, he pressed her hands to the pillow and nuzzled her throat while slowly, heavily thrusting. He watched her, how her eyes went dazed and the wild tripping of the pulse in her throat.
That damned emotion ripped at him again, making it hard for him to inhale, to swallow. Putting his forehead to hers, he shared her breath as he ground against her, feeling her tighten, squeeze him, milk him.
To keep his release at bay, he concentrated on her. Deliberately he brushed his hairy chest to her sensitized nipples, thrust shallow and slow, then deep and fast, teasing her, keeping her on the very edge.
Heat built between them. Their skin melded together. She tossed her head, straining, wanting to come but controlled by him. Releasing her hands, he came up on stiffened arms to watch the shimmying of her breasts. Thinking of how she’d gone down on him so naturally, how she’d seemed to enjoy it, he pumped faster, pressed deeper.
“Come with me,” she gasped, her hands clutching at him. “Armie, come with me.” Her slender body bowed and she cried out, the sound first high and thin, before going low in a deep guttural moan as she climaxed.
Overwhelmed by the potent mix of emotional and physical pleasure, a first for him, Armie put his head back and let himself go. The release was so intense, so shattering, that he lost himself, only to realize a short time later that Rissy was stroking the back of his neck and putting an occasional affectionate kiss to his shoulder.
Ah, hell. Still sucking air, he sluggishly lifted up to see her.
All gentle and sweet and satisfied, she smiled at him. Her silky hair was everywhere, her lips reddened from his kisses, her eyes smoky.
“You’re dangerous,” he told her.
Her laugh was happy, carefree, and proved she didn’t believe him.
Keeping her close, Armie rolled to his back and released a big breath. Rissy curled against him, her fingers playing with his chest hair.
“Armie?” She sighed and kissed him again, this time on his chest. “That was pretty wonderful.”
He hugged her, kissed the top of her head and concentrated on finding the right words.
He didn’t have to bother, because Rissy had plenty to say.
“The other night, when you were drunk?”
Dreading her answer, he asked, “What about it?”
He heard the grin in her voice when she said, “You talked about your cocksmanship.”
God. “You should never pay attention to the ramblings of a drunk.”
“You said you were a better cocksman when drunk.”
Wishing she’d quit saying it, he bit back the groan of humiliation. “Sounds like me.”
“Something about—” she snickered “—using your cock like a sword.”
“Enough.” He turned so she was under him again. “I think someone liked her spanking and is looking for another.”
Now she laughed outright. “Maybe I want to try spanking your sexy butt.”
What an appalling thought. “Never happening, Stretch, so forget it.” He dipped down to take her mouth, then liked that enough that he kept on kissing her, until kissing wasn’t enough, until they were both primed again.
He’d just come twice. That should make him good for some extended foreplay. Rissy deserved that, and more.
For now, at least, he was the lucky man ready and willing to give it to her.
* * *
STEVE PACED THE private room at the club, his anger simmering just below the surface. He would never forget the feeling of broken fingers, busted ribs.
And that damn nut shot. His balls hurt just thinking about it.
Armie Jacobson—now he had the bastard’s name—had really put it to him. After he’d taken apart Steve’s friends. He’d walked through each of them as if he fought women. Or kids.
Steve wasn’t a slouch, damn it. He knew how to fight, was strong and fast. But clearly not strong enough or fast enough to go up against a trained MMA fighter.
“You know where he is,” Keno said with a shrug. “I’ll go there and put a bullet in him. End of story.”
First thing he’d done after leaving Merissa’s house was a quick internet search of Armie Jacobson. Since he frequented the same rec center as Merissa’s brother, it had been easy enough. Jacobson lived in the area, worked at the gym and apparently would be competing on a professional level.
It was no wonder he hadn’t stood a chance against him.
“I don’t want to murder him,” Steve growled. Jesus. That was the problem with hiring lowlifes. They were always pushing to cross the line. “I just want to destroy him.”
Boyd said, “Death would destroy him.”
Steve ignored them both, still pacing. He’d found out what he could locally; Jacobson’s address, his Facebook profile, his work schedule and when his next fight would be. Then he’d hired a professional PI to find out everything else. He’d used the PI before and knew he could be counted on for discretion.