Convict: A Bad Boy Romance (51 page)

“Like when I say how good it feels when your cock is deep inside me?” I ask, my breath coming in gasps.

“
Just
like that
,
” he says.

“Alex,” I say, putting one hand on the side of his face.

He thrusts again and my eyes flutter shut before I can reopen them.

“Yeah, tiger?” he murmurs.

“I need you to fuck me as hard as you can,” I whisper. “
Now
.”

He wraps his arm around my waist and then
slams
his cock into me so hard that I shout, “Oh
fuck,
” and I’m sure the neighbors can hear, but he doesn’t stop and God I don’t
want
him to because I’ve been thinking about this moment for a year and a half and it’s even better than I fantasized it would be.

“I can’t fuck you like this for long before I come,” he says. “You feel too good and it’s been too long.”

“Don’t stop,” I beg him. “Don’t stop. Make me come.”

“Fuck yes,” he says. “I can’t wait to feel you come around my cock.”

I’m close. In the distance I can hear the table
slamming
against the wall but Alex is in front of me, talking filthy, fucking me for all he’s worth and everything else barely even registers.

I feel like my entire body is burning and melting at the same time. My breath is coming in ragged gasps, and I’m right on the edge, getting closer with every stroke.

“Come,” he growls. “I
need
to feel my cock make you come.”

“Selfish,” I whisper.

“Just come,” he whispers.

It works. I fly over the edge and plummet into a white-hot ocean.

“
Fuck
, Alex!” I shout as white washes over my vision, every muscle in my body tensing. I dig my nails into his back, through his shirt and slam my other fist onto the table with a
moan
, the noise coming from some primal space deep inside me.

I think I’m breaking, my body bursting apart into a million pieces, but Alex doesn’t stop. If anything he’s fucking me even
harder
now and I just keep coming and coming, like it’ll never stop.

“You feel so good,” I whimper, gasping for air.

He doesn’t answer, just groans and bites my ear.

“Come inside me so I can feel it,” I whisper. “Please.”

“Oh
fuck
,” he murmurs and then he comes
hard
and I can feel him empty himself deep inside me as he holds me so tight I’m sure I’ll have hand-shaped bruises tomorrow.

At last, he slows and the sparkles recede from my vision. He goes soft inside me but he doesn’t pull out, he rests his forehead against mine as we’re both breathing hard, and then he kisses me and it’s surprisingly soft and slow for the fuck we just had. I think I’m shaking.

“God
damn
, tiger,” he whispers.

“I’ve never come that hard before,” I say. I put a hand on the side of his face, and he smiles.

“You missed me?” he asks.

Yes
, I think, but I don’t say it out loud, just run my hand over his face.

He chuckles quietly.

“You don’t have to admit it,” he says. “I can tell.”

He rests his head in the crook between my shoulder and neck for another moment before he pulls out.

I
lean against the table
, still recovering. I don’t even have the strength yet to pull my jeans back up, let alone actually stand or walk somewhere.

Tessa’s body goes limp as she leans back against the wall, her eyes sliding shut. She takes a deep breath, and then opens them and looks at me, the skirt of her dress still around her waist.

Then there’s a knock on the door.

We both jump about a mile in the air. She leaps off the desk and shoves her skirt down, her hair still wild, her eyes big and alarmed.

“Put your dick away and get in the kitchen!” she hisses, hopping off the table.

When she lands, she stumbles a little and I catch her. We both almost go over. I feel like I’ve run a marathon.

There’s a small wet spot on the table.

“I’m not your Mexican houseboy,” I say, teasing her. “You can’t just order me around.”

The knock sounds again.

Furiously, she points at my dick and then at a doorway that I assume is the kitchen.

I wink at her and then saunter back there, leaning against a counter. It’s a nice kitchen, even if it’s a little small, and the cool countertop feels good when I lean on it.

I hear the door open.

“Oh, hi,” Tessa says, like it’s someone she knows.

“Hey,” says a man’s voice.

My spine goes rigid.

“Just wanted to let you know your keys were in the door,” the man’s voice says.

There’s a jingle.

“Oh my god, thank you,” Tessa says.

I grin in the dark kitchen. I guess we were in a hurry.

“No problem,” says the male voice. “Everything okay?”

“Fine!” Tessa says, a little too eagerly. “I just, um, got back from an exercise class at work and I guess I was a little too excited to get into the shower!”

The man laughs politely, because I’m sure her apartment
reeks
of sex right now.

“Have a good one,” he says, Tessa says it back, and then the door closes.

I hear the keys hit the table and then she walks into the kitchen, flipping the light on. She leans against the counter opposite me and pushes her hands through her hair, then heaves a deep breath.

“Are my panties still in the stairwell?” she asks.

“I didn’t take them,” I say.

“I didn’t take them either,” she says.

Then she looks at me and we both start laughing.

“I can’t wait for that note,” she says. “
Please do not leave your soiled unmentionables in the community stairs
.”

“It’ll give everyone something to talk about for a while,” I say.

“I’m gonna have a drink,” she says. “Do you want a drink?”

* * *

W
e drink
fancy Portland beers and eat leftover chili that’s pretty good and gradually, I tell her everything: going to San Francisco, convincing them they should listen to me.

Wearing a wire back to Los Angeles and meeting Manny. It was hard to talk him into meeting in public, but I did it even though I honestly thought he might shoot me.

Tessa listens to all this, wide-eyed at her small kitchen table. We’re still sitting there long after the beers and the food are gone, just
talking
, not even touching.

“Whose body was that in the house?” she finally asks.

I shake my head.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Someone who died and never got identified. If nobody claims a body...”

I trail off and shrug.

“Shit,” she says quietly. “That’s depressing.”

“It worked in my favor,” I say.

“And now you work for the good guys,” she says, and then narrows her eyes. “Wait, is that true?”

“I swear,” I say.

She leans her head on one hand.

“Got a badge?” she asks.

“Not yet,” I say. “There’s a three-month trial period.”

That
makes her laugh, and for a moment, I’m confused.

“So the hiring process is the same for supposedly-dead ex-cons as it is for the just-out-of-college receptionist?” she asks.

“Receptionists have trial periods?” I say.

What the fuck for? They just answer phones and shit.

“It’s standard at a lot of places,” she explains, standing up and clearing away dishes. “That way, it’s easier to fire someone if they’re not working out.”

“Oh,” I say. “I’ve never really had a regular job before.”

She leans against the counter and crosses her arms, giving me a long look.

“I guess not,” she says. “Well, for starters, I recommend sending strongly-worded emails instead of beating up a coworker.”

“So if someone says something I disagree with in a meeting, I
don’t
just punch them?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes.

“I’ll see if I can tame my barbarian nature well enough to interact with others,” I say.

“That’s not what I meant,” she says.

I stand and toss my beer bottle in the blue recycling bucket.

“See? I’m house-trained,” I say.

She looks at me like she’s got another question, but then decides against it.

“Not completely,” she says. “I think you broke my table.”

“
I
broke your table?” I ask, grinning. “That was a joint venture, tiger.”

“I see you’re learning big words at your job already,” she teases. “Do you wear a suit, too?”

“That’s above my pay grade,” I say. “I’m tactical. The guy who wears bulletproof vests and busts down doors. It’s more my style.”

For a moment, she looks worried.

“Is that dangerous?” she asks.

“It’s less dangerous than my old job,” I say. “Tiger, are you
concerned
about me?”

“I’m sure you can take care of yourself,” she says.

“That means yes,” I say. “
You’re
worried about the welfare of the asshole who
kidnapped
you.”

“I go to a lot of therapy,” she says, primly. “We work pretty hard on forgiveness and getting past things.”

“You didn’t get past everything,” I say.

My cock twitches in my pants. I’m getting hard again.

It’s probably the least surprising thing that’s happened in days.

“I thought I had,” she says, and looks down, like she’s thinking.

Then she looks right at me.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” she says.

“I know,” I say. “I read the news.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“No,” I say. “I think people suspected, but I never told.”

“Why?”

“I thought it would complicate everything,” I say.

It’s not the whole truth. I do think it would have, but I didn’t want us becoming a salacious footnote to a huge circus of a trial.

I didn’t want people speculating about whether she’d been raped or brainwashed, I didn’t want anyone painting her as some poor little girl who fell for the wrong guy, because
that’s
not what happened.

I still don’t know what happened, but I know I told the DEA I’d never help them again if they didn’t put me in the Portland office.

She nods, looking relieved.

“Thanks,” she says, and I walk my empty bowl over to the sink.

When I turn around, there’s a sparkle in her eye.

“I haven’t given you a tour of the apartment yet,” she says.

“Is there another floor or something?” I ask, teasing her. “I think I’ve seen
almost
everything. The living room, the kitchen...”

“That’s not everything,” she says.

“I can’t think of what’s left,” I say.

God, I love it when she teases me
.

She just gives me a coy little smile and then walks out of the kitchen, looking at me over her shoulder. I go rock hard and follow her as she turns into the bedroom.

It’s fairly neat, a big bed in the middle with two side tables, one pair of jeans on the floor by a wall. The bed’s made with a light blue comforter.

But the thing that makes me raise my eyebrows is the mirrored closet doors. They take up almost a whole wall of the room and they reflect the bed back perfectly.

“I knew you were kinky,” I say, looking at the mirrors, even as I wonder who they’re for.

Have there been other guys?
I wonder.

The thought nearly takes my breath away.

Tessa just snorts.

“That’s the way the room is laid out,” she says. “Why, do you like it?”

“I don’t know yet,” I say, and reach for her but she steps away lightly.

Then she turns and lifts her hair off her back. In the mirror, she’s making eye contact with me.

“Unzip me,” she says.

I do it, watching her in the mirror the whole time.

“Unhook my bra,” she says when the zipper reaches the bottom.

I do that too, and she pulls her dress and bra forward and off and then suddenly she’s in front of me, naked, her whole perfect body reflected in the mirror and I realize this is the first time I’ve really gotten a good
look
at her like this.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I say, sliding my hands around her hips and pressing myself against her, my cock at full mast again. “Tessa, are you trying to seduce me?”

She arches her back, pressing my erection between her buttocks, this look of fascinated
lust
on her face.

“I think I’m succeeding,” she says.

“You think I’m just some easy lay?” I ask, grinning.

I am, for
her
, but I’m not giving in that easily.

“I wined and dined you,” she says, stretching her arms over her head and clasping them behind my neck. “What more do you need?”

She sways from side to side and I slide my fingers up her hot skin until both her breasts are in my hands and I’m pinching her nipples between my fingers. Tessa sighs and I pinch harder, rolling her nipples between my fingers.

“You’re showing off for me,” I say. “You like watching me touch you.”

I can’t help it: I wonder again who this mirror setup is
for
, because I know it’s not for me. Maybe it’s for her, but what if it’s for someone else?

Who else watched himself fuck Tessa in this mirror?

I’m
seething
with jealousy. I know it’s stupid. She thought I was
dead
and it’s not like we were a couple or something anyway.

But the thought of Tessa with anyone else unlocks something in me I didn’t know was there, and it’s primal and swaggeringly macho and jealous as
fuck
.

“I like it when you touch me,” she says.

“Good,” I say. “I’m not
about
to stop.”

I force the jealousy out of my head, because it’s fucking hot that she’s totally naked and I’m completely clothed. It makes her vulnerable in a way I couldn’t have imagined, defenseless, like she’s putting herself in my hands and trusting me with her body.

She turns around and maneuvers me so the mirror’s to my left, and then Tessa looks up at me and runs her hands under my shirt, practically licking her lips as she does. Then she unbuttons it slowly and I slide it off, dropping it to the floor.

“You got your tattoo removed,” she says, putting one hand on my chest. “The LC.”

“You memorized my ink?” I ask.

“I remembered
that
one,” she says, looking up at me through her eyelashes.

“I can’t go around with a cartel tattoo if I don’t work for them,” I say.

Her hands slide lower, over my abs and she presses her lips to the spot where the tattoo was as she undoes my belt, then unbuttons my jeans.

“Are you seduced yet?” she murmurs.

Fuck
yes.

“Dunno,” I say. “What else have you got?”

She laughs and then bites my shoulder as she unzips my pants slowly. It feels like each notch she pulls the zipper down sends a jolt through my cock, and by the time she gets done I’m nearly ready to explode even though I came my brains out two hours ago.

“You
feel
seduced,” she says, pressing her palm against my cock. “But if you’re not sure...”

She trails off and kneels, planting kisses on my torso the whole way down. My pants pool around my ankles and she plants a kiss on one hip, then rests her head there.

Tessa takes my cock in her hand and gives it a slow stroke, just
looking
at it. I can see her face in the mirror and dear God, the way she
looks
at it, this mixture of hunger and anticipation, does something to me.

Then she looks up at me, locking eyes, and slips her lips over the head.

I groan. She swirls her tongue around the head and I suck in a sharp breath, closing my eyes. She moves her head back slowly and then pushes just a little more of me into her mouth, her hand still firmly on the base.

She keeps on going, and I open my eyes and watch her in the mirror, her head moving up and down, my cock disappearing into her mouth and then coming out wet until
finally
I hit the back of her mouth and she pushes her mouth down
hard
and the warm, wet cocoon of pleasure makes my balls tense.

Then, Tessa groans and the hum travels down my cock and into my spine. She looks up at me.

“I could watch you suck my cock all day,” I say, and put one hand on her head because I just
have
to touch her. I’ve got the urge to push her down on my cock but I fight it. That’s impolite, after all.