Stripped Down (4 page)

I gasped as his cock pushed against my pussy, making the seam of my jeans press against my clit. It sent a bolt of lust burning through me, and I moaned into his mouth as his fingertips dug into my thighs.

“Cassie,” he muttered, kissing down my neck.

I love it when he says my name.
“Still wrong.” Another gasp escaped me as he yanked the neck of my tank top down with the cup of my bra and covered my nipple with his mouth. Oh god.

“Uh-huh.”

The noise vibrated against my sensitive nipple, and I arched my back as he freed the other and cupped it only to turn his attention to it.

“Fucking gorgeous tits,” he rasped, rolling the tip of his tongue over my other breast.

My hips ground against him, and he chuckled, releasing my breasts. He pulled me up to sit and tugged my shirt off, making sure my bra followed it. Then he dropped his mouth back to my nipples as he laid me back.

His hands found the waistband of my jeans and pulled. I raised my hips so he could get my pants over my butt and down my legs. Almost reluctantly, he stopped his assault of my breasts to remove the jeans then threw them to the floor.

Beckett’s eyes dropped to my thighs. “Open your legs.”

I bit the inside of my cheek.

His gaze snapped upward. “Cassie. Open. Your. Fucking. Legs.”

“Take your shirt off. Fair’s fair.” It was nowhere near even, but I wanted to see him before I exposed every bit of me to him.

Without a word, he unbuttoned three buttons before ripping it over his head and leaving it to fall to the floor.

He was fucking gorgeous. His body was toned to perfection and belonged on the front of a magazine instead of hidden beneath a shirt while he ran a strip club. He was carved from stone, I was sure, from the broadness of his shoulders to the deep V that curved over his hips and led to his cock, which was visibly hard through his pants.

“Now,” he said, his voice low. “Open your legs.” He came close and put his hands on my knees. Slowly, he pulled them apart, and with his eyes on mine, he said, “I want to see how wet this pussy is for me.”

It shouldn’t have been hot.

But it was.

When my legs were open to his satisfaction, my chest heaved as he ran his hands down the insides of my thighs and brushed his thumbs across my thong. He glanced up at me, a tiny smirk teasing his mouth, then pulled my underwear away from my hips. He rolled the string under my ass and allowed me to close my legs long enough for him to remove the panties and chuck them to the side too.

He leaned forward and kissed the inside of my thigh. This time, he didn’t even play around touching me with his hand. His thumb brushed right over my aching clit as he swept it through the wetness.

“Feel that, Cassie?” He stared up at me, slipping one finger inside me and making me clench. “Fuck me. You feel how wet you are?” He eased another finger inside me and slowly thrust them, his thumb teasing the edge of my clit every time he pushed his fingers inside me. “This pussy is so wet for me.
Your
pussy. Look at you—fucking my fingers like you’re begging for it.”

I couldn’t even deny it. My hips rolled against his hand as he teased me.

He used his free hand to push my legs open and bent right forward. He flicked his tongue against my clit, and I moaned at the sweet feeling. He smiled against me then curved the tips of his fingers inside me. It made it better, made each slow thrust more enjoyable, but it was the way his tongue played with my clit that I couldn’t resist.

I was hot—everywhere. My heart pounded. My lungs burned. My skin tingled. I was waiting... Waiting for the release that was coiling right there, right where he was fucking me with his hand and his tongue.

“You watching this, Cassie?” he murmured then sucked on my clit.

I cried out then bucked my hips against my mouth.

“You watching me eat your little bare pussy?”

I wasn’t, but now that he’d said it... I looked down, struggling for breath, as he peered up at me with his tongue on my clit.

Oh god.

He closed his eyes and went for it then. His tongue and his mouth worked expertly in sync with his hand as he rolled, licked, flicked, sucked and fingered me toward my orgasm. My arms gave out as it racked my body. I think his name left my lips—I didn’t know. I was flying high, barely able to control the clenching of my pussy as he pulled his hands from me and I came in his mouth.

He leaned right up over me and kissed me. The sharp, tangy taste of my orgasm was on his lips, and he rolled my nipples between his fingers as he swept his tongue against mine. My nails scraped across his back and down to his waistband as he ground his hips against me.

His cock rubbed me through his pants, and I whimpered the tiniest, quietest, “Please.”

“What was that?” He knew full well what I’d said.

“Please.”

“Please what?” He sucked one of my nipples. “Please do this? Please kiss your hot, little cunt again? Please what, Cassie? What do you want me to do to you?”

He wants me to talk dirty to him. Oh my god.

“Fuck me,” I managed to get out as he turned his attention to my other nipple.

He stood and undid his pants. “And?”

I watched, mesmerized, as he shoved them down. His cock pushed against his tight boxer briefs, and the white fabric hid nothing. It hugged the hard lines of his erection, from the base to the tip, and the only thing better than that was when he pulled his underwear down.

I swallowed hard when he moved forward and easily slipped two fingers back inside me. I moaned and lifted my hips, but it only lasted a second because he spread the wetness from his fingers over his cock and slowly stroked. There was something incredibly erotic about a man touching himself—and Beckett Cruz was no exception.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” he said in a low voice. “And do it quickly before I lie down next to you and pull you on top of me and do what I want.”

That sounded like less of a threat than he’d meant it to be.

“Then do it,” I whispered, meeting his eyes. “I want you to fuck me, Beckett, but how you want to.”

He stalked around the bed to the nightstand and pulled out a box of condoms. Foil ripped as he tore it open, and my eyes followed his hands as he rolled it over himself. I moved as he lay back on the bed, grabbed his cock, and stared at me.

“Get here. Back to me. Sit that tight pussy on my cock now.”

I swung one of my legs over his body so my back was to him and leaned forward with my hands between his legs. I’d barely gotten comfortable when I felt his hand gripping my ass and his cock pushing into me. A sharp sting of pain radiated through my body, but I fought the urge to tense my muscles.

“Cassie?”

“It’s been a while,” I whispered.

Six years, to be exact.

Little longer than a while.

He pushed me off him and grabbed my hips, tugging as if to make me spin. I did, straddling him so I was facing him, and reached between us.

“Your speed,” he whispered, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck and pulling my mouth down to his.

He kissed me hotly as I lowered myself onto his cock, slowly taking each solid inch of him inside me. He groaned when he was fully inside, and I gasped at the way his fingers deeply dug into my ass.

I moved, still slowly at first, and he still kissed me, still held my ass. I knew he was holding back, so the moment the pain disappeared and I could take him more easily, I nipped his lower lip and pushed him back.

Just when I thought he didn’t understand, he held my hips and thrust his cock into me. Hard. Each flex of his hips felt so good, and it didn’t take long for a second orgasm to shudder its way through my body, desperately taking hold of me and my sanity as my body flashed hotter and hotter with the force of the pleasure.

Beckett fucked me harder and faster, whispering about how hot my tight pussy was into my ear, how good it felt around his cock, how turned on he was, until he finally held his cock deep inside me and came with a deep groan that made me shiver with delight.

His harsh breathing mingled with mine as it skated across my skin. I closed my eyes when he rolled us to the side and pulled out of me. He kissed the corner of my mouth, pulled the sheets over me, and then stood. He disappeared through a door on the other side of the room, but he quickly came back, the condom removed and two towels in his hands.

He threw me one and used the other for himself. I cleaned up as best I could, the effects of the copious amounts of alcohol consumed and the orgasm quickly taking my body over.

I stayed awake just long enough for him to take the towel and get into bed. I rolled over, and he pulled me back against him, my body fitting in against his just right before sleep finally won.

A
deep groan escaped my lips as I stretched out, squeezing my eyes shut as I worked the sleep out of my muscles. My clasped hands collided with a solid headboard, and I froze.

I didn’t
have
a solid headboard. I had a soft one.

I swallowed and opened my eyes, looking up. The headboard was mahogany wood, dark in color, and definitely not the deep purple of my soft one at home. I brushed my hair from my face as I sat up and looked around. The dark-brown sheets that coated the bed were chocolate colored, completely plain, and the bedroom was bigger than possibly any I’d ever seen.

The furniture was minimal, and the drapes, still closed, were the same brown as the bedding currently swathing my naked body.

Naked body.

Why was I—

Oh no.
Oh no
.

I hadn’t. I couldn’t have.

I could not have left work last night and gone home with my boss.

I sat up and almost fell right back. A headache like nothing I’d ever felt slammed into me right between my eyes, and I winced as it settled in a sharp yet dull ache that threatened to make my brain explode.

Of course.

It was slowly coming back to me. He’d handed me tequila, made me talk, insisted on taking me home, and then, when he’d deemed I was wearing too many clothes for a lap dance...

Kissed me.

Oh god.

Oh. God.

I rubbed my hand down my face and got out of the bed. My clothes were still strewn across the floor, and as memories of the night before trickled into my consciousness, I fought to beat them away.

I wanted to remember how I’d gotten there.

Not how thoroughly my boss had fucked me last night.

I grabbed my panties and then looked around for my bra as I pulled my thong up my legs. It was gross but dry, and I knew there were no others in my bag. Wherever that was. I grabbed my bra and clasped it beneath my boobs—

Oh no.

What was that?

I held my left hand out in front of me and focused on the encrusted, white-gold band wrapped around my fourth finger. It glittered despite the lack of light, and I staggered back onto the bed.

There was no doubt about it.

I was definitely missing a huge chunk of what the fuck had happened last night.

Something knocked somewhere else in the house. I hoped like all hell that that was Beckett and nobody else was there. Unfortunately for me, getting away without talking to him was no longer an option. I had to talk to him and find out why the hell I had a wedding ring on my finger.

That wasn’t the kind of irresponsible I had been thinking of when I’d done the tequila shots last night. Too drunk to walk? Sure. Vomit all morning? Okay. Hangover that’d last for three days in the back of my mind? Annoying but okay.

A wedding ring?
Um, no.

I quickly dressed, trying to ignore the sparkling of my finger. I racked my brain, trying to pull forward a memory of what had happened between leaving The Landing Strip and arriving here, but everything was blurred and almost completely blanked. I barely remembered even leaving the club.

There was kissing, and then nothing until a car and more kissing.

I buttoned my jeans and walked across the room to where the bathroom was. I really needed to wash my face. I hoped Beckett wouldn’t mind, but in the grand scheme of things, that was likely to be the last thing he worried about.

I looked like hell. I had mascara smudged under my eyes, my hair looked as though a family of woodpeckers had nested in it, and I had a zit coming on the side of my nose.

Wonderful.

I didn’t even look like hell. I looked like I’d jumped right out of Doctor Who—but I was an alien creature.

I quickly washed up and fingered my hair until it was kind of settled. I hoped he had my bag, because I vaguely remembered having left with it. If he did, I could at least tie it back until I could get home and shower.

My stomach rolled, and not from the hangover, as I left the bedroom, shoes in hand. I could hear the whir of a coffee machine, and I desperately felt like I needed some, but I needed to leave more.

“Cassie?”

I heard his voice before I saw him, and when I saw him, I bit the inside of my cheek. He was shirtless, and his light-gray sweats hung low on his hips, hinting that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath them.

“Um, I have a question,” I said quietly, stopping at the bottom of the staircase and gripping the banister. I held my hand up in front of me, the ring facing him. “What is that?”