Love On The Ropes (Ringside Romance) (22 page)

Lick, bite, suck. Thrust
forward. Faster
.

“You want it, don’t you? You want
it hard and fast.”

He pushed and she gasped, shifting
her hips and sitting up slightly. He lost contact with her breast.

“Lean forward,” he ordered.

Her eyes widened. Excitement?
Fear? A little of both, he decided.

“I need to taste you while I screw
you,” he said.

He pushed and she arched, shoving
her other breast within reach of his mouth. And he took it fully, nipping at
the nipple, then tickling it with his tongue.

Once, twice, three times. She wanted
it, so he’d screw her. That’s what he was good at. Screwing people. Hurting
people.

The guttural moan from her throat
made him even harder. He needed to come inside of her, break her down to her
core.

“Do it!” she cried.

He grunted, thrust forward and
squeezed her hips with his hands.

The world exploded like an
incendiary device powerful enough to destroy a small country. His body
shuddered and lights flashed behind his eyelids. He’d shut his eyes, not
wanting to see who he was screwing: the innocent, sweet girl.

You bastard.

No, she wasn’t that innocent. She
was dealing.

And this the best screw of his
life.

She cried out and collapsed
against his shoulder, her hot breath burning his skin.

Shame ate away at his stomach
lining, shame for using her and prostituting himself—shame for liking it way
too much.

A few seconds passed. Now what?
He’d have to get the hell out of here because he couldn’t stand to see the
afterglow on her face.

“Ya’ know,” she paused, “that
wasn’t all that bad.”

He tried to talk, but couldn’t at
first. He cleared his throat. “Not bad?”

She propped herself up on her
elbow and grinned. Not a sweet-girl grin, a wicked grin.

“It could be better,” she teased.

“Ouch, you just leveled my ego.”

She smiled. “You know what Cosmo
says to the boys?”

He hated thinking about the boys,
the organization, and his assignment. He wanted to just be here, in her bed,
because she wanted him here and not because he was on assignment.

“What does Cosmo say?” He brushed
a strand of blond hair off her cheek.

“He says the difference between a
pro and an amateur is that the pro does it over and over until he achieves
perfection.”

Damn, if she wasn’t pretty near
perfect with her mischievous green eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Do you consider yourself a
professional?” she asked.

“I know I’m a professional.”
A
professional user.

“Good.” She flashed that wicked
smile. “Let’s do it again.”

* * *

Sandy jumped out of bed, stretched
her arms and sighed. It was a good day. No, a fantastic day. The bedroom sheers
glowed with the shine of daylight. She ripped them open and glanced up at the
blue sky. Heavenly, simply heavenly.

But then, life was heavenly. The
spell had finally been broken and—

She whipped around. The bed was
empty. A pang of regret burned in her tummy.

“It’s okay,” she comforted
herself. She’d wanted last night to be one night of incredible, passionate
lovemaking with an amazingly, sexy man. She’d wanted to prove that she was
okay. That she was all woman.

“It was amazing.” She grinned and
snatched an oversized T-shirt from her futon chair. Amazing or not, she should
find the man who’d given her this power and properly thank him. He was probably
in the living room reading the newspaper.

She went into the master bathroom
to wash her face.

“Wow,” she said, placing her hands
on her cheeks. She looked ... radiant. With a giggle and a shrug, she splashed
water on her cheeks, then squirted foam cleanser on her hands. Madame Bovary
weaved between her legs.

“Well, hello, you.”

Even the wicked cat looked happy.
Happy. Yes, that’s what this felt like; yet even more than happy, she felt whole.
Not because of Jason, The Stripper, but because she’d finally unleashed her sexual
self and it felt incredible. She wasn’t broken anymore. She was a whole female,
attractive, seductive and able to have an orgasm—a wonderful, glorious orgasm.

Rinsing her face with cold water,
images of last night floated across her thoughts. Gawd, they’d had sex three
times. By the third time she had multiple orgasms thanks to Jason’s magic
hands. Cripes, she didn’t know a man could make her feel that way, over and
over again.

She straightened. This wasn’t
about Jason. No, it could have been any man, any man better in bed than Cody
Monroe. It could have been Decker Smitts, couldn’t it?

Sure, why not? Any man had the
potential of being a good lover if he listened, and Jason was an expert
listener. He’d asked her what felt good, what felt better, and when she could
no longer speak he knew he’d hit the mark. He listened to her and learned what
turned her on. If he was trainable, other men had to be, right?

And then she did the same for
Jason, who answered her questions with moans of pleasure. She, too, had
listened and learned last night. She knew what turned a man on, and she’d take
that knowledge into her next relationship, possibly with a prospective husband.

It was time, time to open up to
the possibility of a future with a man. For now, she’d enjoy her time with
Jason, learn more sexual secrets and enjoy her newfound power. She was a sex
goddess!

She opened the vanity drawer and
pulled out an eyelash curler and mascara. She wondered if it had an expiration
date. Not seeing one, she applied a light coat of lash-darkening makeup, and
brightened her cheeks with blush.

Beautiful, and all female.

Glancing down at Madame Bovary,
she said, “Let’s find The Stripper.” A part of her thrilled at calling him
that, probably because she hoped he’d give her a private show.

She ambled down the hallway.
“Jason?” she said into an empty living room. She opened the door to her
apartment. Why, she didn’t know. It’s not like he’d be sitting out in the hall
waiting for her to let him in. He’d already been in. Way in.

“Huh.  Love ‘em and leave ‘em,”
she muttered.

Well, this is what she’d asked
for: hot sex, no strings. She was okay with that, she really was. Yet she
wished he would have at least said good-bye. Funny that he wasn’t more
sensitive to an issue like saying good-bye, considering his father’s
abandonment.

She put the kettle on and picked
out green tea. What an absolutely glorious day. She’d take a walk, maybe put
Madame Bovary in the cat stroller and bring her along.

Glancing at the sink, she noticed
clean dishes in the drying rack. At least he was a polite one-night stand.

She brewed tea in a purple pansy
teacup she used for special occasions. “What’s it like outside, Madame?” She padded
toward the balcony and slid open the glass door. Stepping outside, she tipped
her face to the sunshine and closed her eyes

A man cleared his throat. She spun
around and spotted Jason in the corner of the balcony, holding a coffee cup.
She thrilled at the sight of him in his hip hugging jeans and tight T-shirt.
Good thing they swung by his hotel to get some clothes, otherwise he’d be
walking around naked all weekend.

There could be worse things.

She smiled. “Whatcha’ doing in the
corner?”

“Thinking.”

“Okay.” She chuckled.

She’d done a lot of that this
morning, a lot of chuckling and smiling. It felt good.

“It’s a gorgeous day.” She turned
her face to the sun.

“Yep.”

“You sleep okay?”

“Nope.”

She eyed him. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” He winked.

A throbbing started between her
legs. Good grief.

“I have a hard time sleeping,
period,” he said.

“They say that’s caused by a
guilty conscience.” She leaned against the balcony railing and studied him,
trying to decide why he looked different than the man she brought home last
night. He seemed almost deflated, even scared, with his knees pulled up to his
chest and arms crossed over them. A confident, proud man would be standing,
leaning against the balcony, soaking in the sunshine. A confident, proud man
would pull her against his chest and lay a big, wet kiss on her lips. He
wouldn’t be cowering in the corner.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he
said.

“Like what?”

“Like I disgust you.”

“You’re reading me all wrong,
Stripper.”

He jumped to his feet. “Don’t call
me that.”

“Sorry, hey, I’m kidding.
Actually, I was hoping you’d give me a private show tonight.”

“Not funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be funny.”

He reached for the door.

“Jason, stop.”

He did. She was shocked.

“Look, this doesn’t have to be awkward,”
she said. “I had fun last night. You did, too, right?”

He turned to her. “Fun? That’s
what you call it?”

“Yeah. What’s wrong with the word
fun?”

He took two steps and pinned her
against the balcony. “After what I did to you last night?”

“It was mind-boggling, explosive, perfect.”

He stepped back. “Perfect? Good
God, I practically forced myself on you.”

“Oh, get over yourself.” She
pushed past him and went inside. She sensed him following her at a distance.

“I don’t know where you were last
night, but I was in my bed, having blazing-hot sex with a gorgeous man.” She
opened a cabinet and poured granola into a bowl.

“Oh, I get it. You’re into S and
M.”

“Knock it off. You weren’t that
rough. We were on fire, sure, but there was nothing perverted about it.”

“Okay, whatever.” He shook his
head and went into the living room.

She followed but kept her
distance. “Look, Jason, everything’s okay. Don’t mess this up for me.”

“Like I haven’t already messed you
up?” He swung his arms in frustration and knocked over a table lamp.

Madame Bovary, not liking violence
unless she was the instigator, jumped from her kitty bed and raced across the
bookshelves. Three pictures frames topped over along with a small statue of an
Indian princess and Sandy’s porcelain cat collection.

“Stop!” Sandy cried, in hot
pursuit of the frantic feline. “You spooked her,” she accused Jason. The Madame
continued racing like a greyhound at the track. “Shush, kitty. It’s okay.”

But the Madame knew it wasn’t
okay. Jason’s negative energy and sudden motion set off the cat into the low
end of her bipolar scale. It was going to take a good ten minutes to calm her
down.

“Shush, kitty, kitty. Shush,”
Sandy implored with her arms out. “You try,” she ordered Jason.

“Get over here, damn it!” he commanded.

Sandy planted her hands on her
hips and glared. The cat not only ignored him, but picked up speed, hitting the
on button on the stereo. Great, now the three of them were in a mass of motion
with Beethoven’s Fifth blaring in the background.

“Get over here!” he shouted over
the music.

“It’s okay.” Sandy tried to soothe
Madame Bovary, not scare her hairless.

“I said come here!”

“Be nice!” she shouted at him.

“Screw nice!”

“Knock it off!”

Madame scampered, clawed and
knocked over books, another plant and a picture of Sandy with her dad and
brothers.

“Damn it!” she cried. “I said
stop!”

Her condo door burst open with a
crash and her big brother Curt stumbled through, followed by Decker Smitts.
Curt’s eyes blazed fire as he glanced at the mess, then at Sandy.

Then he charged Jason.

“Curt, no!” Sandy cried.

It was bad enough to be ashamed by
his behavior last night but now Jason had to fight off Sandy’s big brother and
the wanna-be boyfriend.

Big brother charged, and J’s
instincts kicked in. With an evasive move, J got a hold of Curt’s wrist,
twisted and applied a headlock that rendered the man helpless. Sandy punched
off the music and stepped in front of her brother.

“This is not what you think,” she
said to Curt then to the wanna-be boyfriend, who looked poised to defend her
honor. “The cat went crazy and trashed the place,” she explained.

“Let me go, you son of a bitch,”
Curt hissed.

Sandy got in her brother’s face. “You
promise not to attack The Stripper again?”

J bit down hard at the use of his
stage name. When was the woman going to stop seeing him that way?

“Fine,” Curt agreed.

J let go and—

Curt swung around and threw a
punch. J let this one hit its mark—his gut. He fell to his knees. Hell, he
might as well let the guy get some satisfaction out of defending his little
sister. Besides, J deserved the sucker-punch after last night.

“Stop!” Sandy grabbed her
brother’s arm before he could throw another punch. “The cat went nuts, okay?
You know how she is,” she said to Curt, then shot Decker a pleading look.

Crap, she didn’t need that jerk’s
help.

“The cat’s insane. I’m telling
you, she went crazy. Curt, you’ve seen her dark side.”

Curt glared at Jason who leaned
against the wall, sucking air between his teeth.

“But this guy,” Curt started, “we
heard him yelling at you.”

“He was yelling at the cat.”

Curt eyed Sandy. “But it’s after
lunch and you’re still in your robe.”

“It was a late night.”

Curt started to lunge for Jason,
but Sandy blocked him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. He didn’t do anything. He’s here
because I’m responsible for him. He was released from jail into my custody.”

“From jail?” Curt’s voice broke.

“He’s Jack the Stripper. Didn’t
Duke tell you what happened? The Stripper was brought in for questioning by the
Feds, and Lou got him released in BAM’s custody, only Cosmo is nowhere around
when you need him, and Lou had a hot date so they sent Stripper home with me.”