Shattered Virtue (6 page)

For a second she tenses. “Yes. It is. How can you help?”

We’re so close, her fragrant breath whispers across my lips, making me hunger for the forbidden fruit of her. “Obviously, I have experience with criminal matters. Plus, I know an ex-police detective who’s very good at finding out things.”

She leans back to stare at me. “And what would you want in exchange for helping me?”

“Nothing. I’d do it free of charge.”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“The case intrigues me. I’d like to explore the facts.” More than that, she fascinates me. So much passion beneath all that innocence. I want to know more about her. I want to know her. But I can’t explore passion with her while working on her parents’ case. She’s not only my intern but would be my client as well. She’s forbidden fruit in more ways than one.

“Thank you.” She hugs me.

Her breasts rub against me, and I almost grunt with pleasure from the feel of her hard little nubs. “You’re welcome.” In another second or two, she’ll move away, put distance between us. Except. She doesn’t. Hot, sweet, trembling, she remains in my arms.

“Madrigal.” I unloop her hands from around my neck, pull back from her. “Better get some shut-eye. Tomorrow will be a tough day.” I can’t believe I’m actually saying such a thing.

“That’s not what I want to do.” Hard not to understand the meaning behind her words.

“You’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe I want to burn.”

“No. You don’t. Not with me.”

“I’m of legal age. I’m not a virgin.”

“You’re also the granddaughter of the founding partner of the law firm where I work.”

She throws her leg over my hips and climbs on me. “Not tonight I’m not.”

My cock’s hard beneath her. I’m naked. And the only thing between us is her skirt. Sweet mother in heaven. My hands tremble even as they hold her back. “What do you want from me, Madrigal?”

“I want you to have sex with me.”

CHAPTER 10

Madrigal

His hands clamp on my wrists, push me away. “We can’t do this.
”

“Sure we can.” I brush my lips against his, lick him. When I slip my tongue between his lips, he groans. “You want me. I know you do.”

“A dead man would want you. That’s not the point.”

“That’s exactly the point.”

He frees one hand and pulls back on my hair. It hurts a little, but I like it. I like the pain. “Why are you acting this way? Is it because I offered to help? You don’t have to do this.”

“That’s not the reason.”

“Then why?” He eases his hold on me.

I run my hand up that chiseled body of his, those hard abs, that sculpted chest. “All my life, I’ve been the good girl, done the right thing. Just once I’d like to cut loose.”

“And I’m the chump you chose?”

“You’re not a chump.”

He curls a big, masculine hand around my nape. Beneath me he’s grown longer, harder. “Once might not be enough, Madrigal. Have you thought of that?”

“One night. That’s it.”

He shakes his head as if he’s finding it hard to think he’s considering it. “You sure about this?”

I grind down on his hard erection. “Yes.”

“Lose your clothes.”

I stand up. The floor’s freezing and so is the temperature of the room. All the hard-earned warmth I fought so hard for dissipates in an instant. I toss the jacket and skirt to the floor but keep the blouse on to protect me against the cold before I scoot back into bed with him.

Grabbing my ass, he hauls me across his groin and grinds against me. He’s huge and insistent beneath me.

I had two college boyfriends. Neither was as well-endowed. “Yesssss.”

“Rub yourself against me.” I shiver at the command in his voice.

Obeying him, I jerk back and forth while he guides me to a rhythm that enhances my pleasure. When I rub my panty-covered pussy across his cock, my body catches on fire. Soon I’m burning up.

“Does that feel good, Madrigal?” In the dark, his voice is pure gravel. When he surges upward, I swallow. Hard. “Yes.”

“Good. Now take off your blouse. Slowly. Like you’re doing a striptease.”

“You can’t see anything. It’s dark.”

“I can damn well imagine it. Go on.”

My hand goes to the first button and the second while his breathing grows harsh. Finally, I come to the end. He pulls the blouse off, tosses it to the foot of the bed. His hands curl around my lacy-bra-covered breasts. “You have amazing tits.”

I love the dirty talk. My preppy boyfriends, as he calls them, were always too civilized with me. “You have an amazing cock,” I reciprocate.

“You don’t know it yet. But you will.” Reaching behind me, he unsnaps my bra, and my breasts tumble free, right into his eager hands. He kneads them for several seconds before sitting up and sucking a nipple right into his mouth.

A streak of lightning races to my core, and I grow wetter down below. “Ahhh.”

“You like that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wait.” Tipping me back, he scrambles off the bed. Where is he going? Has he rethought the situation? Now, when I’m all revved up? He rattles around the unfamiliar space, curses when he bumps into something, but then in the next second he’s back. The rip of something in the dark tells me what he went hunting for. A condom.

He slips his hand beneath the edge of my panties, finds my hot button. Our kisses grow heated. Holy shit. The man knows how to kiss. He hauls me to him. With his cock tight between us, there’s no doubt in my mind about his desire, how much he wants me. But then he’s a man, and I’m almost naked. Anyone else in the same situation would react the same way. His tongue sweeps past my lips and takes control, searching out every corner of my mouth, biting, licking, sucking. He nudges my leg, and he’s right there against my pussy—hot, hard, hungry.

When he grinds against me, every rational thought flies out of my head. I bite down on my lip to keep from screaming as he strokes his hard rod against my clit. The scent of him fills my nostrils—the soap he used, his body musk. Him. It’s too late for logic. My body is driving this train. I rub against him. Yes, I want you. Yes. I want that hard cock of yours inside me. Yes. Yes. Yes.

He flips us over, and the lumpy bed creaks beneath us. The way he manhandles me? It’s like I weigh nothing at all. But then he’s pure steel. Roped muscles for arms, iron-hewn abs. I can’t get enough of his mouth, of the taste of him—minty toothpaste mixed with a dark, mysterious flavor. He puts a minuscule distance between us and rips off my panties. Naked, we’re skin to heated skin. I’m burning up, and so is he. His mouth nips a line along my jaw, kisses its way down my throat, my chest. His hands wrap around my breasts and squeeze. My nipples pucker in clear invitation. A whimper escapes me.

The darkness is complete. Except for the occasional streak of lightning that seeps through the flimsy blinds, I can’t see a thing. Just as well. I don’t want to witness the flame I’ve become in his arms.

“You have a great deal of passion in you, Madrigal. And I’m going to set it free. Before I’m done, you’re going to scream my name.” He bites down on the tip of my nipple, and I squeal.

His grown-in beard chafes my delicate skin as he suckles every inch of my breasts. As he does, my legs splay open against his hard cock in a clear invitation. I’ve never acted this way before. The wanton in me wraps her hand around his head as he feasts on me. With him, all I want is more.

His mouth descends on my belly, dropping kisses, sucking my skin, and then—oh, God—he’s right there where I need him to be. His tongue circles my pearl, and he laps up every drop. I’m not used to a man doing this to me, but my body seems to know what to do. I moan and gasp while I grind against his hungry mouth. Everything in me grows urgent. When his tongue spears me, I come apart, screaming his name.

“Madrigal, look at me.” His voice is pure steel, just like his name.

Enough light filters through the blinds for him to know if I’m doing so. With my last bit of will, I command my gaze to engage his. “I’m looking.”

“Tell me what you want.” He rubs his magnificent cock right against my twitching clit.

“Ohhh.”

“Madrigal.” A warning. He won’t repeat it again.

“I want you to fuck me.” I’ve never used that word before, but that’s exactly what I want. I want him to do all those nasty, filthy things he knows how to do. To me.

In the next second, he slips into me. Or at least tries to. Not being sexually active, I’m tight as a drum. “Please.”

He grunts. “How long has it been?”

“A while.” I whimper. I want him in me more than my next breath.

Another curse escapes him, but then he starts easing his way into me. His thumb goes to work on my clit, searching out my most sensitive spot. It doesn’t take much for me to squirm beneath him once more. I moan when he slips an inch inside. He’s so big, so hot, so hard. I’ve never had anyone like him. But I don’t complain. Because no matter how much it hurts, he feels like paradise. One-handed, he hauls my ass up and slips deeper inside. His efforts are rewarded when he sinks all the way to his root. He’s dripping with sweat and so am I.

Tangling his hand through my hair, he leans forward and devours my mouth. It’s a deep, take-no-prisoners kind of kiss. He pulls back and slams into me. I bite my lip to keep from screaming. But when he does it again, I can’t hold back and let go.

Somehow, he knows what I want. What I need. Giving no quarter, no mercy, no allowance, he pounds into me again and again and again. A frenzy rolls over me, and I claw at him, bite his shoulder, dig my nails into his ass. God, I don’t know if I’ll live through this. Yes, it’s that good. The crisis hits him, hits me. He grunts, and his seed pours into the condom. Breath sawing in and out, he collapses on me.

I lie beneath him while I struggle to regain my own breath. After a minute, he rises and goes into the bathroom. The sound of running water reaches me. When he comes back, he grabs another condom, rips it free, and slides into bed with me.

I’ve barely recovered from the first round. He can’t possibly be ready for another. Except, he is. He rolls me over, crawls over me. Slips his hand to my hot button. Impossibly, he gets me going again. With my past boyfriends I never climaxed, and now, here with him, I’m ready to fuck all over again. He bites my shoulder, and moisture seeps from me right onto his fingers. He slips into me. My insides protest the rude invasion so soon after the last time, but I don’t care. I asked for this. I want whatever he’s dishing out.

The wind rattles the door more violently than before. We’re at the height of the storm, but I can no longer muster the energy to care.

CHAPTER 11

Trenton

I screwed up royally last night. But once she offered herself to me, begging me to fuck her? Don’t know any red-blooded American man who could have turned down that invitation. Certainly not me. Best thing to do is get back to normal as quickly as possible, which means ignoring what happened last night. That’s right. Act like nothing happened. She’s bound to be confused, but unless I miss my guess, she’ll go along with the plan. Because in the clear light of day she wants to forget last night as much as I do.

Power’s back, so after I wash up and slide into my wrinkled slacks, I fire up the coffeemaker. She’s still asleep, gloriously naked. And all I want to do is climb back into bed and fuck her again and again and again, which would be a gigantically stupid thing to do.

To keep my gaze from fixating on her, I look out the window. The wind tore down a couple of trees. Branches—some big, some small—are strewn here and there. Other than that, the parking lot is amazingly clear of debris, but then someone’s already out there cleaning up. Within an hour or so, it should be safe to leave.

I turn to find her sitting up in bed with the blanket clutched to her amazing body. Her blue-violet eyes are the only spot of color on an otherwise pale face. The sex kitten from last night has vanished, replaced by the young, angelic-looking woman she is. “Mr. Steele?”

God. This is all I need. I fucked her three times last night, sank balls deep in her, and this morning I’m Mr. Steele? “Yes.”

She clears her throat, but before she has a chance to say anything, my cell rings, and I answer it. “Hello.”

“Trenton?” It’s Holden, Madrigal’s grandfather. He sounds anxious. Yesterday she’d phoned him from the airport to alert him to our change of plans. He’d urged us to check into a hotel in Raleigh and ride out the storm. But I’d been so sure I could beat the madness, I’d gone against his wishes. Only to end up in a ramshackle motel in Virginia after all.

“Hello, Holden.”

Madrigal clutches the blanket higher to her.

“Been trying to get in touch with you half the night. Is Madrigal safe? Tried calling her, but I can’t reach her.”

She shakes her head, a warning not to reveal her presence in the room. Like I would.

“The storm forced us into a motel off I-95, and I managed to get the last two rooms. She’s in hers.”

“So she’s safe?”

“As far as I know. She’s right next door. Let me get her for you.”

I walk outside, take a few steps in place, knock on the door.

Sheet still clutched around her, she opens it, a pissed look on her face.

“Ms. Berkeley. Good morning. I have your grandfather on the line. He wants to talk to you.”

I step back in the room. Grab my shaving kit and walk into the bathroom to give her the privacy she needs to talk to “Gramps.”

Fifteen minutes later, I exit to find her sitting on the bed, chewing her bottom lip, the very lip I tasted, suckled, and bit last night.

“No one must know what happened here last night, Madrigal.”

“Yes, Mr. Steele. But you’ll still help me?”

“Of course I will.” What choice do I have? Not only can she use what happened last night to blackmail me, but now that I’ve had a taste, my body craves her. I might not be able to fuck her again, but I’ll do whatever it takes to be near her. Because, yes, I’m that insane. “I’ll go check out while you get dressed. Be back in a few.”

Everyone’s making a beeline for the motel office, so when I get there it takes me a half hour to check out. By the time I’m done, the parking lot is cleared out and the sun’s shining bright.

We climb into the car, and I pray the rain didn’t damage the engine, but it turns over without so much as a stutter. First bit of good luck I’ve had in the last day.

It’ll be four long hours before we reach DC, but first we stop at a local diner. Remarkably they’re open and doing booming business. I order hot coffee, fluffy eggs, and crisp bacon. She goes for the oatmeal.

“Oatmeal?”

“It’s good for you.”

“And you always do the right thing.” I peer over my coffee cup at her.

She pinks up deliciously but doesn’t say a thing. We both know what she did last night was wrong. And yet somehow right. She’s brushed her hair back into that ponytail of hers. I prefer it loose. I loved tangling my hand in her hair while I was fucking her, licking her breasts, and pounding my cock into her.

“Stop.”

“Stop eating?”

“Stop thinking what you’re thinking.”

I put down the coffee cup. “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“Your eyes. You’re looking at me as if you’d like to swallow me whole.”

My voice gravels. “That’s not what I’d like to do to you.”

“You can’t—” She lowers her voice. “You can’t look at me like that in the office. Everyone will know.”

“We’re not in the office.”

Faced with that bit of wisdom, she huffs and addresses her oatmeal, sips her coffee.

“Did you enjoy it?”

Her spoon clatters to the bowl. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Too bad the devil in me does. “You know what the best part was?”

Her eyes panic as she glances around the diner. Everyone’s busy getting food in them. Something survivors do after a storm. “Stop talking.”

She doesn’t want me to remind her about last night. Acting like it never happened is the right thing to do. But it rankles that she wants to put the passion we shared behind her. Because, yes, it was that good. I’ve fucked plenty of women in my life. But I never enjoyed a woman’s body as much as I enjoyed hers. Something that will haunt me the rest of my life. Because I know I can never fuck her again. So I’ll be damned if I allow her to forget what we shared. “That ‘please’ you whispered. I wasn’t quite sure what you meant. Please stop. Please, sir, I want more. I think the latter. I think you not only liked it, you loved what I did to you. And now you’re sitting here back in your pumps, trying hard to forget it ever happened.” I lean forward to drill what I have to say into her. “I have news for you, Ms. Berkeley, you won’t forget. I warned you. Once you experience passion, there’s no going back.”

“Yes. There is.”

I sip my coffee. “We’ll see.” I’m a bastard to taunt her with her newly discovered sexuality when I should fear the effect she’s had on me. Something tells me she’d be a hard habit to break.