Bare Knuckle: Vegas Top Guns, Book 5 (28 page)

“It’s what you deserve, baby. Always have.” When Trish reflexively shook her head in protest, Mal’s touch strengthened. “Don’t you dare contradict me on this one, baby.”

“Okay,” Trish said with a half grin. “Do you mind, though? He’ll want to photograph us. Video too.”

The brightness of Mal’s lust dimmed a watt or two as she assessed the equipment. “How far does the finished product go? Just him or every adult video store in the city?”

“Just him.”

“And you trust him about that?”

Trish stilled. It was her turn to touch Mal—to hold her attention and mean it. She clenched her hands along the deep inward dip of Mal’s waist and gave her a friendly shake. “I trust him, Mal. But it’s still your choice.”

The woman shrugged with a chuckle. “Let’s do it. Besides, if I find it on the internet, I’ll know whose sweet Camaro my brother-in-law needs to impound.”

As if by choreography, they leaned in to kiss at the same time, this one restive and ready to go. Trish was so nervous, but a homecoming with Mallory was a happy indulgence. They slid together, with two flavors of gloss blending, then fading as their tongues and gathering passion kissed away the artificial sweetness. What Trish found was Mal’s own sweetness and the incredible softness of a feminine mouth. A man’s lips, no matter how smooth or supple, couldn’t compare with those of a woman.

Soft lips and soft bodies, as their breasts met and molded flesh against flesh. Mal had always been the more aggressive of the two. That hadn’t changed. She cupped Trish’s ass cheeks and squeezed, pulsing, timing her hands with the steady thrust of her tongue as their wet, demanding kiss rocketed from flirtation to raunchy foreplay.

Trish crossed her arms around Mal’s back then inhaled the woman’s satisfied moan when they pulled flush. She’d always loved Mal’s baby-powder scent, but she’d never identified the brand of perfume. Long ago she’d decided not to find out. It was just Mal and the warmth of a body made for sin.

“Starting without me?”

Dazed, Trish broke their kiss and found herself looking down into Mal’s dark, playful gaze. A smile shaped the woman’s puffed, reddened lips. Trish pressed their foreheads together and smiled too. “Sorry there, sugar,” she said to Eric, still close enough to keep breathing Mallory’s baby-powder scent. “Someone has me a little dazed.”

Mal drew back with a mock pout that was underlaid with unflappable confidence. “I’m just someone?”

“Never.” Trish kissed her nose then turned to find Eric.

He stood propped against the wall between the loft’s front open space and the bedroom. Trish knew him well enough by now. His casual posture was a complete lie. He’d been more at ease when overlooking the drop at the Stratosphere. His bulky shoulders were tight, his back rigid. The hands in his trouser pockets had fisted.

“We got him so keyed up already,” Mal said, quietly teasing. “Gotta love an eager audience.”

“You won’t find a better one.” Trish raised her voice so that Eric could hear. “Isn’t that right, sugar?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re our eager audience.”

He stalked slowly into the bedroom. His subtle cologne reached her before he did—a spicy, masculine bite compared to Mal’s petal silk. He touched Trish’s waist, then brushed his lips against hers.

“That’s right. Again now, showgirl. I like when you kiss like you mean it.” Then he stepped away.

Trish locked eyes with Mal, where passion quickly rekindled in those luscious depths. “Not a problem.”

Eric was there. He was watching. She
knew
he was watching. Although Trish wouldn’t back out for every dollar in every casino in Vegas, she wasn’t free of nerves.

Showtime
.

She took her anxiety out on Mal’s mouth. The kiss returned to nuclear-meltdown heat in a half second. Lips melded into a hot mash, all tongues and plunges. Feminine hands on her ass alternated between tight and tickling. Mal tasted sweet, so sweet, as if she’d guzzled the bubbly Trish had imagined.

Mal’s tongue found its way back into Trish’s mouth. They drank each other up. Trish went for broke. She wanted those beautiful breasts beneath her palms. She grasped their full, heady weight and squeezed, stroked,
played
. Mal moaned into her mouth.

“I’d forgotten how much you dig my rack,” she said.

Trish licked Mal’s slick lower lip then kissed her way lower. Mal tipped her head to offer better access. “How could you forget a thing like that?”

“You have me jumbled right now, baby doll.”

Eric cleared his throat. Trish flicked her gaze toward where he stood a few feet away, his arms straight down and his fists tight. His attention was riveted on Mal’s face. Trish knew he found her attractive, but his expression was almost hesitant. “Will you do something for me?”

Mal cocked an eyebrow. “Depends.”

“Will you take your hair down too?”

The two stared at one another as Trish continued to pet Mal’s body with eager strokes. The woman felt amazing. So lush and ripe. That damn bra would be
gone
as soon as possible.

Mal shrugged. “Sure. Why not. I’m in this all the way. Where’s your bathroom?”

Eric pointed to the far corner. Mal disappeared into the kitchen area and returned with a brush, comb and a zip bag where she kept her hair accessories. She ducked into the bathroom.

“You’re asking a lot of her,” Trish said. “We both have the same issues.”

“Had to try.”

She stood up tall and kissed his chin. “Then be a good boy and thank her later.”

In an attempt to glue her brains back together, she turned away and started to strip. Her legs trembled and her hands wouldn’t work—until Eric stood in front of her and offered the steadiness of his body. His face was a wreck of restrained passion and concentration. The bruises were still brutal, but at least his lip had mostly healed.

Mal’s champagne-and-gloss taste remained on her own lips. It was sensory overload.

“Your black silk robe, remember?”

He nodded. So tense. Requiring more courage to go on, eager to feel how this was blasting through his body, she slid her fingers down the center line of his torso. She pressed her hands one over the other and fondled his rock-hard prick. Again she found a release for her building anticipation in using a lover’s body. She squeezed until he grunted, then hissed.

He grabbed both wrists in a tight grip. “Not so fast. Want it all.”

“Mmmm, the caveman has returned. Don’t you have equipment to fire up?”

“Yeah.” He exhaled heavily. Some measure of mastery returned to his features. He let her go and started arranging the cameras.

Trish strolled to the bed. She was liquid and steam and elemental. Outside of herself. She shook, yet she was as in control of her body as she’d ever known. Every nuance was hers to display.

Mal opened the bathroom door. She was stark naked. Her hair, like the most tempting dark-chocolate cake, trailed over her shoulder blades and breasts. A modern day Godiva. She had proud shoulders, posture erect to display her best asset. Round, full breasts were tipped with dusky areolas and tight nipples. She was the perfect hourglass. The cage of her ribs rounded inward to a narrow waist, where round, fleshy hips swished with every step. Shapely legs joined at an apex decorated with a thin, neat stripe of dark hair.

Trish’s mouth fell slack. Distantly, she heard Eric’s sharp intake of breath.

Trish crossed the room. Her feet powered her without thought. Their lips may have been soft, but their mouths were hard when they collided. Trish spiked her fingers into that luscious, silken mass, down to Mal’s scalp. Damn, Eric had been right. With her hair unbound, she was a goddess.

A goddess with a mission, apparently.

With her hands tight on Trish’s hips, their lips fused, Mal steadily pushed her back toward the bed. They landed sideways in a tangle of limbs—the best view for Eric’s cameras.

Mal surged over her until their breasts pressed as closely as their hips. The chance brush of nipple across nipple sent a jolt of electricity through Trish’s entire body.

She crossed her arms around Mal’s curving spine. Having only gotten brief access before, Trish kissed down and down until she reached the decadently smooth skin of Mal’s throat.

“Oh,” Mal said on a quiet gasp. “I was always a sucker for your mouth on my neck.”

That was part of the reason why Trish had become obsessed with Mal’s neck and the elegant slope leading to her shoulders. Mal loved it. The more Trish nipped and licked, the crazier Mal became. She moaned then grabbed the back of Trish’s head to hold her closer.

“Suck. Harder, baby.”

Trish found the perfect place and opened her mouth. She licked and teased until Mal scraped harsh nails up Trish’s back.

No more play. Trish sucked with the same force she’d use on Eric’s cock. Mal’s gasp was like a shot of Jack and that addicting. Finding another spot, Trish sucked again—this time alternating with scraping teeth. Mal shoved her knee between Trish’s legs and bore down.

“That cunt is mine,” she rasped against Trish’s ear, before taking the lobe between her teeth. “You’re so wet for me already.”

“I am. God, Mal. You feel amazing.” Trish grasped wherever she could reach. Ass, hips, tits, then back down the wonderland of Mal’s roller-coaster curves. “I forgot how much I got out of groping you.”

Mal bit harder on Trish’s earlobe. The pressure increased until Trish tried to squirm away. Mal grabbed both wrists and dragged them up, pinning Trish with her body and her hands and her teeth. Only when Trish cried out did Mal give way. She released Trish’s earlobe, then sucked away the pain.

“So fucking good,” Mal growled.

With both of their arms stretched back behind Trish’s head—Trish pinned and Mal pinning—their breasts rubbed together. Mal intensified the contact by deliberately writhing. She used every inch of skin to torture every inch of Trish, then ground her thigh against Trish’s pussy. They rocked together, a full-body caress. Tickles of long hair tangled in her hands and draped like a waterfall around their kiss.

Almost private.

Trish knew that wasn’t the case. Grabbing, wanting, they soaked into one another, but Trish had never been more aware of Eric’s attention. She couldn’t see him where he’d settled into the shadows behind the bright lighting screens. She only sensed his arousal branding her skin.

She swept Mal’s hair to one side, so he’d have a better view of their devouring mouths.

And sure enough, the move was rewarded with a flash of a picture being snapped.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Mal whispered. “You like that, don’t you, baby? That fucking brutal stud watching me touch you.”

“More than touch, Mal. Harder.”

The woman complied. She released Trish’s wrists and wedged a hand between their torsos. Taut fingers raked up from Trish’s hip to her breasts. Mal groped, twisted and pinched, then dipped her head to take a nipple into her mouth. She’d loved Trish’s breasts for the same reason Trish loved her neck. The responses. The potent energy of each erogenous zone. For Trish, it had always been her breasts. She gripped the back of Mal’s head, pulling her, yanking her hair. She needed more. More of her lover’s skin and the hot tension in her flesh. She smacked down on Mal’s ass and clenched.

“Rougher,” Mal said, gasping.

Trish slapped her ass with both hands, slapped until her palms stung. Mal hissed and moaned. She rocked forward again, using her body weight to rub her thigh against Trish’s aching cunt. Any male partner would be right there, his erection ready to plunge, but now there was only the sultry slide of pussy over slick pussy.

The camera’s flash spiked pulses of light behind her eyelids. Pure ecstasy.

Mal had almost always set the pace. She liked being in charge, which suited Trish perfectly. She couldn’t have imagined trying to direct such a scene. Impulse ruled her, made decisions for her. So when Mal’s teeth scraped over a sensitized nipple, Trish could only gulp air and arch.

“Grab my tits, Trish, baby. I know you want to.”

Mal raised her chest like an offering. Beautiful. So perfectly full and tipped with caramel cream. Trish fondled both before lifting her head from the mattress. She took one tight pearl into her mouth. She licked and nipped until Mal bowed, hands tight at Trish’s hip and shoulder.

“Trish, you slut, I know you can do better than that. Work my tits like how you’ll eat me out. Work my tits like you could make me come that way.”

Trish groaned around one perfect areola and laved Mal’s tight nipple. She used tongue and teeth to flick the tender bud back and forth, around in circles, as if she were tonguing a clit. Mal’s escalating gasps and the hard bite of her fingernails encouraged Trish to be selfish. Be mean and be rough.

The snap of another picture. Another. Wet heat flooded Trish’s body.

“You’ll watch this,” Mal whispered. “Together. Later. When you ride him. When he plows his prick into you.”

“Over and over.”

Mal’s hand dove between their bodies. Fingers. Tight. Twisting Trish’s clit in the balance between pain and pleasure. Fire shot across her skin in time with two relentless, matched pressures—tongue on nipple and fingers on cunt.