Corps Security: The Series (43 page)

“Just sex?” I ask. No reason to beat around the bush now.

“For now.” He takes my hand in his and leads me off the dance floor and back to the bar where we left our drinks. “Here’s to living,” he says and holds his beer up to click with my wine glass.

Seems like an odd thing to toast to when you just agreed to go off with a complete stranger and play hide the sausage. The more I think about it though, the more it honestly makes sense. I made a promise, to my sister that I would never stop living. Of course, she didn’t know about this promise, but the day I made that promise to her, whispering the words to the cold earth, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.

Well sister dear, if this isn’t living, then I don’t know what is.

“To living,” I echo back with a smile before taking a sip.

* * *

It has been an hour since I essentially agreed to a night of unlimited possibilities. I see Greg floating around the room, stopping to spend time with the bride as well as the rest of the men in their immediate group. He seems to be aware of my every movement. I move to speak with another person, and his eyes are always burning into my skin. When my eyes meet his, it is pure fire. I could feel his gaze caressing every inch of my skin and it was slowly, agonizingly driving me out of my mind.

I want him.

“I know that look.” Dee says, coming to rest at the table that Emmy and I have been sitting at for the last few minutes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“My ass you don’t,” she laughs. “That look you keep sending G is hot enough to make me start panting.”

“Oh, really? You wouldn’t happen to know anything about heated looks across the room, would you?” Emmy cuts in. Her tone actually shocks me. In all the times I have been around her, she has been nothing but sweet and quiet.

“What the hell, Em?” What the hell indeed.

“Look, Dee, you know I love you, but please take my advice, Beck wants you, and you keep playing games. What are you going to do one day when you change YOUR mind and want what he has been offering for almost two years and he isn’t offering it anymore?”

“It’s not that easy, Em.” Dee rests her head against my shoulder and lets out a ragged breath, “It’s just not that easy.”

I look up and meet Emmy’s eyes across the table, noting that her usually sweet and serine expression is hard and cold.

“It is that easy. You want him, he wants you, but you are too busy trying to push him away to give him the chance he deserves. I would love to be in your shoes. Have the man
I
want, want me back.” She slams her glass down on the table, rattling all the place settings in the process. Giving her chair a shove back, she leaves the table so quickly I’m not even sure which direction she ran off in.

“Would you like to clue me in on what just happened here?” I ask Dee with a slightly manic laugh.

“That, my dear Melissa, was me being put in my place.” She takes a long sip of her wine, slouching down in her seat and just dazing off into the crowd.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Izzy has filled me in some but not enough to pretend I know what is running through her head.

“Do you ever get so tired of putting on a mask, day in and day out? I’m so sick of putting on my mask.” Her words are slur slightly but I think I understand what she means. God, I hate drunk people.

“Don’t hide who you are, Dee. One thing I have learned is you never hide who you are. If you want something, you fight for it. When you think you have fought hard enough, fight a little more. Don’t ever let anyone or any situation make who you are.”

She looks over at me with wide eyes. Whatever I said must have hit the mark, but I honestly have no idea what she wants. I haven’t been around them enough to tell the ins and outs, but I know there is something seriously fucked up going on between her and Beck.

“Yeah,” she says with a slight wobble. “I just don’t know . . .” she trails off when we hear a commotion across the way from where we are sitting.

Over near the edge of the property, we see what looks to be Axel carrying his bride off into the darkness. The only thing you can see is his back and a laughing Izzy over his shoulder jogging off around the house. I look over at Dee and all the sadness has left her eyes. We stare at each other for a few minutes, trying to decide if we just saw the groom kidnapping his own wife, before bursting into laughter.

We have been sitting there laughing for a few minutes when I feel him. My back prickles and my skin warms. Without looking, I know that Greg Cage is standing behind me. I feel one finger brush lightly down the side of my neck before his lips ghost against the shell of my ear, “You ready?”

I gulp, wondering for a second where the hell my strength to stay strong around this man has gone. I have to keep my walls up around someone as
dangerous
as him.

“Sir! Yes, Sir.” I joke, giving Dee a wink before turning in my seat. When my eyes meet his, I see my joke might have missed the mark. His face is hard. His blue eyes look almost violet, and his hands clench tightly into fists.
What the hell?

I stand, not wanting to be at the disadvantage . . . well, more of the disadvantage. At least with my shoes, we are almost equal. His breathing is coming in quick pants, his nostrils flaring. I walk as close as I can, toe-to-toe, my chest grazing his slightly, and give him a good hard look of my own.

“What is your problem?” I whisper. I can feel the heat off his lips so close to mine.

He is still giving me a good accessing look, but seems to make his mind up silently on the best way to proceed. “Say goodbye to Dee.”

“Goodbye to Dee,” I call over my shoulder. Her giggles reach my ears, causing me to let a few out before I school my face again. “Your turn,” I whisper.

“Gone, Dee. Don’t fucking drive.” And with that, he grabs my hand and rushes me off through the crowd, the tent, yard, and around the house. We stop in front of the drive, standing there for a few seconds. He lets go of my hand and paces a few steps in front of me before turning around and looking at me. His breathing hasn’t improved much, and a small part of me wonders if he might have asthma or some shit.

“Do you need an inhaler?” I ask.

“What the fuck?” He mumbles.

“You sound like you’re about to have an asthma attack or something. So I repeat; do you need an inhaler?”

He raises one thick brow and lets out a rough laugh. “Do I need a fucking inhaler? No, I do not need an inhaler. What I need is for you to please behave yourself in public. You can’t say shit like that and not have me wanting to rip your sexy as sin dress from your body. The next time you call me Sir, it better be when you are begging for me to let you come.” He reaches out and pulls my body forward, crushing his lips down against mine.

Jesus Christ. And I thought he had set my body on fire before. Hard, wet, and full of carnal heat, his tongue battles with my own for dominance. His hands fist my hair, and turn my head, and his body envelops mine.

He owns me with a single kiss.

For a single second, I have the nagging thought that I might just be in over my head with this man.

CHAPTER 10

Melissa

I followed the taillights of his truck through town and into a nice residential area. Far cry from my tiny shit-hole apartment. He turns his truck into the driveway and I pause for a second before pulling my piece of shit in behind him.

Well . . . this is embarrassing. I have never been one to let another person’s wealth intimidate me, but this is slightly hard to stomach. His house is large and you can tell it’s worth more than I probably can make in a lifetime. Anytime you need to drive through a guarded gate to get to your house, you know it isn’t the ghetto. Now,
I
live in the ghetto.

I can hear my car clanking and sputtering as I stop next to his truck. He leans against the driver’s door spinning his keys around his finger. He might look cocky to some, but to me, he looks fucking edible.

He has pulled his tie off and unbuttoned the first few buttons. His jacket is gone and he has rolled up his sleeves, revealing his strong arms. With each flick of his wrist that sends the keys spinning, you can see each and every muscle in his forearm flex. And don’t even get me started on his long, nimble fingers. I have to clench my thighs together just watching them work his keys.

We stand there, with only my car standing in between us, just taking it all in. I am still trying to figure out how the hell I went from promising myself I wouldn’t get tangled up with this man, to seconds away from jumping on and saying yee-haw.

“Come here, Melissa.”

“No,” I respond. Why I thought it was a brilliant idea to poke the bear is beyond me, but there is something thrilling about watching him walk the line of losing control.

His keys stop spinning in a second. “Babe, come here.”

“Make me.”

Looking back, I might be able to see how it wasn’t the wisest idea of mine to try and make him snap, but I have a feeling a man like Greg Cage needs a little challenge every now and then.

“Melissa.”

“Greg.”

He moves so swiftly that he is nothing but a white flash in the darkness. Before I know it, his shoulder meets my belly, and I am being carried into the house. His hand against my ass sends shocks of desire up my spine. I can feel my pussy tighten with awareness, like even that bitch knows how close he is to her.

I push off his waist, trying to take in the house as he barrels up the stairs. Even with his quick and rushed movements, he is careful not to jar me on his shoulder. Deciding for some unknown reason that it would be fun to further test his control, I bring my hands from his belt, and take each of his firm cheeks and squeeze. Damn his ass is hard as a rock. His growl fills the silence that had only before held the heavy breathing of this insane man.

“Watch it, Melissa, you’re playing with fire.”

“Always did like it hot,” I groan, bringing one of my hands up and slapping his ass. Hard. My palm tingles and sharp stabbing pain shoots up my wrist.
Fuck! I think his ass just broke my hand!

He stops dead mid-step into what I can only assume is his room. I don’t even think he is breathing. Statue still and vibrating with unleashed tension.

Uh oh.

Slowly, oh so freaking slowly, he begins dropping my feet to the floor. His face is unreadable, but he can’t mask the heat in his eyes. Burning. Every inch of my skin his eyes cross over feels like it has been physically touched.

I bring my arms up and start unbuttoning his shirt. He just stands there and lets me. It takes me a second, but around button two point five, I realize his silence is nothing more than his trying to regain the control that is slipping away. No way, not having that. Grabbing both sides of his half-undone shirt, I give a hard yank, sending buttons flying around me. He lets out low rumbles deep in his throat, and his hands clench.

Running my hands from his rock hard pecs down to his abs earns me another throaty growl. When I palm his dick through his pants, his eye twitches and he sways slightly. Leaning forward, I swirl my tongue around his nipple and give a solid squeeze to his generous bulge. When I bite down on his nipple lightly, his groan turns into a fierce roar, I step back hastily, almost knocking my ass to the ground when I trip over the rug.

His hands shoot out and grab my hips to help steady my legs. “Get naked. Now,” he finally pants, once he makes sure my footing is solid.

He steps back and drops his ass into a chair that I didn’t even notice was there. Looking around the room, I take in the masculine warmth. All the furniture is dark wood, and cream colors the walls. Very earthy. My red dress stands out against all the muted tones. I look back over to where he is lounging and take in his arrogantly lifted brow. He doesn’t think I’ll do it. Stupid man.

Turning on my heel and presenting my backside to him my back, I reach up and slowly draw the zipper down the length of my back. Luckily, it isn’t so high up that I need to ask for his help. I take my time, feeling the teeth unhook one at a time with the measured glide of the zipper. When it catches at the bottom, I look over my shoulder again and watch as he brings his hand to his belt.

Well, that is fucking hot.

I slip each shoulder off slowly before letting the dress drop and pool at my feet. I can’t hold back my smile at the harsh intake of breath that comes from behind me. I’m certain that he didn’t expect to find me completely naked beneath my dress.

I bring my leg up, but right before I slip my shoe off, I hear his strained voice say, “Leave it.” I drop my foot and slowly turn to face him. I’m comfortable enough in my own skin to know I look damn good. When I complete my turn and meet his eyes, I can see that he agrees. Looking down his body, I notice that he has slipped off the shirt, and his pants are unfastened. One hand grips the arm of his chair with so much force that it looks like he might rip the arm right off, but his other hand? His other hand is slowly stroking one hell of a shock to my system.

His body alone is enough to convince me to sell my left tit just to touch it, but to see what he has been packing all day makes my center weep with wetness. Huge, thick and
decorated.
He fingers the hoop, which causes his dick to jump and a hiss to shoot from his mouth. As if the Prince Albert isn’t shocking enough, the second horizontal bar through his bulbous head has my jaw dropping. My first thought was ‘holy shit that had to hurt,’ but closely followed it is my body screaming ‘hell fucking yes, that will feel like pure bliss’!

“Like what you see, Beauty?” He continues his slow strokes. I can see the drop of come that is starting to fall from the top and my mouth instantly waters. “Tell me how bad you want my dick.”

Shaking my head to clear the lust-filled fog, I have to remind myself of the game I started. I don’t know when it became important, but I want the upper hand. I smile sweetly. “I don’t think so, big boy.” I bring my hands up and caress my breasts, tracing the swell, and then cupping them and pushing them together. The friction forces a soft moan to escape. I trail one hand deliberately down my body, allowing my fingers to outline my sex a few times, and drawing the warm moisture across my soft skin. When I part my folds and drag a finger through my wetness, his hand stops stroking and his eyes flash.