Filthy: A Bad Boy Romance (5 page)

Gently he pushes one of my shoulders back so the water runs down over my breasts. Then he turns the soap bar flat against my skin. Drags it across my chest, my breasts, down my stomach. Just the touch of him on my skin makes me catch my breath.

You should stop. This is such a bad idea.
But the thoughts, relevant as they are, fade quickly as Cain begins to claim every inch of my skin. His hands are slick with soap as he cups my ass, lifts me so my toes barely touch the tile. What’s he going to do? Can he pick me up, fuck me against the wall? Do I want him to?

Of course I do. It’s frightening, dangerous, and just the thought of him being able to pick me up like that, hold me safely with that casual strength, makes me shiver.

So it’s no surprise I damn near come when he actually does it.

The water’s falling hard all around us. I’ve gotten used to the warmth now, and it feels good. He braces my back against the tile and pushes his hips between my thighs, holding me there while his hands move under me, fingers finding my pussy. His cock is hard, hot against my belly. I grab at his shoulders, curl my fingers around the back of his neck to pull him in to kiss him. He seems to be okay with that, kissing me back hard, devouring me. I can taste blood in his mouth—a leftover from the earlier sparring, I’m sure. Why is that such a turn-on?

Honestly I can’t figure out anything about why this man draws me so powerfully. Why do I want him so much? It has to be more than just the promise of his body.

Promise… Safety. Escape. The thought drifts through my head before I can give it much consideration. I’ll think about it later. Right now the only thing I can concentrate on is getting Cain’s cock inside me. As fast as possible.

He seems to have other priorities. He’s kissing me, pulsing his hips between my thighs while his fingers probe into me. They move deep inside, teasing, then slide out to stroke me. He can’t quite reach my clit from this position, so I tip my own hips, trying to rub against his body.

“Hold still,” he says. “Just for a second.”

It’s all I can do to follow the order. I look him straight in the eye, holding myself still. I can feel the tile squares imprinting themselves on my back. Decoration to remember this by, though it’ll fade, of course.

“Lean forward, baby.”

I do it. I’m rewarded by a grunt from the back of his throat, and then the sudden sensation of his cock sliding inside me.

Holy shit.

I bite his shoulder hard and Cain’s chest shakes with laughter.

“Minx.”

I bite him harder. He grunts and shoves into me.

Goddamn. He’s huge. Big enough so that I bite my lip hard against the pain, but the moment he lets out that deep sound when he hits the back of my pussy, I forget all about pain. All of a sudden it hits me how dirty this is. I’ve never been fucked in a public shower before.
One of these days, Cain, you need to fuck me on a bed. Or a couch. Something normal.
I shove that thought back. I need to not be thinking about future sex sessions with this man. That leads nowhere good.

Freedom.
There’s that stray thought again. It shatters as Cain thrusts hard, claiming my body. It hurts, especially after last night, but God, it’s a good pain. I clutch his back so hard I swear I can feel my nails biting through his skin, but he just takes it and keeps fucking me. His cock throbs inside me as my wet back hits the wall, and he buries his mouth in my neck, his lips teasing my flesh. It’s as though every thrust of his hips hits the breath right out of my lungs.

“Why can’t you
admit
that you came here for my cock?”

“I—
oh
!”

I’m distracted by the swell of him inside me, his hot mouth on my neck, and every inch of me screaming for more of this man. He pauses, buried to the hilt.

“Cain, please!”

His grinning face pulls back, his dark hair plastered to his head from the water. It streaks down his face in rivulets, making his skin flush from the heat. For a moment my chest tightens. I always thought he was attractive, but he’s never quite stolen my breath like this.

“Did growing up a Spada make you too proud?”

His tone is slightly mocking, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

I bet the bastard does.

“Don’t stop!”

He nudges his hips a little and I let out a high gasp, blushing hard when he laughs.

“
I asked you a question
.”

Fine.

“I wanted more,” I burst out in a hoarse voice. “I wanted a good, hard fuck and I knew you’d give it to me.”

He thrusts hard before I finish my sentence, ending my last word in a yell. My back slams against the cold tiles, and then he ruts me deep. I feel his cock throb as he anchors inside me, letting out a grunt that sends an electrical shock up my spine. I look down and see his slick cock, pulsing in and out of me. Then he bends his head and takes one of my tits in his mouth, biting down hard. I can feel it when he comes, the heat pulsing inside me. I’m riding right on the edge, though, and there’s no way I’m going to make it over with him. I let out a sound, a sort of loud wail. I feel like weeping. But he clutches me hard to him, finishing, and then kisses my mouth.

Then he slides free of me and goes to his knees, easing me down the wall at the same time, until my feet touch the floor.

And I’m right over his face, and he’s got his tongue inside me, licking, thrusting, stroking over my needy clit. “Oh God,” I breathe. Water runs into my eyes and I squeeze them shut. Cain’s face pushes right up into my pussy, his nose rubbing my clit while his tongue goes inside me, then his tongue rubbing over my clit while a finger goes inside me, and suddenly I’m a white starburst of sensation, my body pounding in wave after wave of climax.

Holy shit.

It feels like an hour or so before the pulsations finally stop. When they do, I realize I haven’t stopped breathing, after all, and Cain is on his knees in front of me, holding me against him, one hand stroking my lower back while he presses his chin against my stomach. He’s looking up into my face with a look so smug my first inclination is to slap it off his face.

He laughs. “You hated that.”

“Yes. Every minute.”

Slowly he eases back then comes to his feet and pulls me against him. He holds me like that for a few seconds. Kisses me. This time it’s warm, not so hard and possessive. A tingle runs through me, and this time it’s not sexual arousal. It’s something else. Something I’m not sure what to do with.

Then Cain starts talking, and I remember why he’s a bad idea.

“You’re starving for cock, aren’t you?”

I try to push back from him, but he’s got me enveloped in those big arms. I’m wrapped in cords of muscle decorated in black, red, and green ink. And a little purple. Right there. There’s a lion’s face looking back at me from the curve of his pec.

“I’ve never seen a girl throw herself into it like you do.”

I make myself look into his eyes. Does he mean that? I have no idea what to say.

He strokes a strand of wet hair back from my face then reaches behind us and turns off the water. It’s starting to cool down, though it’s still far from cold.

“You’re going to want this again,” he mutters in my ear. “Again and again. You’re going to come to me after my next fight, Jess. And if you don’t, I’ll come find you.”

The gentleness of his hand on my hair is a strange contrast to the forcefulness of his words. It makes me want to nod, to accept everything he’s telling me.
Yes, I’ll be there. Yes, I’ll fall down at your feet and let you do whatever you want to me.

I just hold his gaze. He kisses me carefully.

“I promise, Jess. I’ll come after you.”

“Fine.” I jerk a little, wanting him to let me go, but I can’t put too much force into it. My body’s betraying me at every turn. But he lets go, and I go to find a towel. I turn my back to him. If I look at him right now, I’ll just run back into his arms and impale myself on him.

You are in some kind of trouble, girl.

I close my eyes, scrub my face dry, and try to ignore that stupid voice in my head.

#

In the car, dry and back in my clothes, I stare out the window for a few minutes before I turn on the ignition. Cain’s still inside the gym. I left him there to finish his shower—he hadn’t gotten all the sweat out of his hair, he said. Maybe it was his way to grant me a graceful retreat. Who knows?

I turn on the car. The rhythm of the motor running helps my thoughts settle into a more dignified order. I can think now, past the throbbing aftershocks in my body, past the vague smell of Cain’s sweat that still lingers on my blouse.

This is
such
a bad idea. This is like playing with a tiger at the zoo and hoping he won’t tear your head off when he gets hungry. No, it’s more than that, because my father’s involved. I’m not just playing with Cain’s fire. It’s Pop’s fire, too. If he knew what was going on here…

I can’t even finish the thought, the consequences are so dire. I wonder briefly if Pop would just kill me. I don’t think it’s beyond his ability. I don’t think it’s outside his moral compass, if you can call it that.

But there’s another side to this. I put the car into gear and pull out onto the street, letting some of the stray thoughts I’d had in the shower drift back into my head.

Cain’s not Carmine. He’s not my father’s approved life partner. And there’s something between the two of us that neither of us can ignore or deny. What if…

Don’t think it.
But I have to. What if I married Cain instead of Carmine? What would Pop do about that? Cain is still under Pop’s control, but not the same way Carmine is. With Cain… With Cain I can almost see a route out of the mob-made jungle that is my life. Because Cain wants out, too.

And maybe…just maybe…we could find a way to get out together.

It’s a stupid idea, but it won’t go away.

#

Most people would probably be ecstatic to get the chance to go to a big Hollywood premiere. I’ve been to them before; I get to see celebrities and sometimes hang out at an after party or two. But I’m not most people, and the company I have to keep more than offsets the fun of bumping elbows with the local elite. Add to that the knowledge that I’m only here because Pop likes to be sure he’s got some kind of a presence at these things—undoubtedly somebody here (or several somebodies) is deep into Pop’s pocket—and I wish I were about anywhere else.

And maybe one place in particular. Somewhere Cain is.

Carmine’s dressed to the nines, of course, black tie and shiny shoes, his dark hair slicked back and a smile on his face. Objectively he’s not an unattractive man, but I can’t help but flinch when he loops his arm through mine, helping me out of the limo.

“What’s wrong, hon?” he asks.

“Nothing.” I avoid eye contact. I don’t want him to know I’m anything but pleased to be here. There’s no point starting a scene. It might make me feel better in the moment, but in the long run it’d only make things harder.

He drops it right away, not concerned enough to follow up. Instead he looks around, scoping out the crowd. He’s probably got orders from Pop as far as exactly where he’s supposed to be seen and with whom. Probably even when.

Apparently deciding where he wants to be, he starts toward the red carpet area where all the celebrities are arriving. I follow without protest, his arm still tucked through mine.

“So…” I venture. “Why are we here?”

He gives me a look like maybe I’ve grown an extra eyeball. “For the party. Why else?”

“C’mon. There has to be a reason. Has Pop got a hand in the financing or something?”

Carmine frowns. “That’s nothing you need to worry about, sweetheart. You’re just here to look pretty.” He pats my hand absently.

Of course I am. And, based on his answer, I’m betting Pop did, indeed, help pay for this movie. Yet another investment into controlling the rich and powerful of Los Angeles. I decide I don’t want to know any more. I’ll just play the pretty arm candy and get it over with as quickly as possible.

Near the red carpet but not actually on it, Carmine stops to introduce me to the film’s assistant producer. They chat for a time while I pay little attention. I try to appear starry-eyed, like I’m taking in all the celebrities, the outrageous dresses, the handsome men and blindingly beautiful women. Right now, though, I’m numb to it.

When the producer moves away, I’m gracious enough, giving him a nod and a smile. But Carmine’s hand on my arm squeezes tight. Tight enough to hurt.

“What?” I keep my tone to a stage whisper. I don’t want to escalate the situation.

“Don’t just stand around like an idiot. We’re here to make a good impression.”

“You seemed to be holding up your end of the conversation just fine.”

His hand clenches tighter. I wince. “Don’t you talk smart to me. And get that look off your face.
Smile
.”

“What am I supposed to smile about?”

He gives me a direct look. “The fact I’m not slapping that attitude right out of you?”

I bite my tongue and summon a vague smile. His fingers tighten to the point I know he’ll leave bruises, but then he eases off again, as if he was just emphasizing his point. His face relaxes into a smile of his own, showing bright teeth as he nods at a passing starlet. I vaguely recognize her from a movie I recently went to. Alone.

“Now,” says Carmine, “I’m going to talk to a few more people, and I want you to be charming, got it?”

“Sure. Charming.”

And I do my best. I can still feel Carmine’s fingerprints throbbing on my arm. I try to follow his lead, adding comments here and there to his conversation with another behind-the-scenes person from the film. Another producer, I think, though I missed part of the introduction. I was concentrating too hard on smiling.

Still, when we move on, Carmine looks none too pleased. “Straighten up your act, Jess.”

“What? I did what you wanted me to.”

“You look like you’re hating every minute of it. These people don’t like that. You have to act like you’re happy to see them. And dammit, Jess, act like you’re happy to be with me, for God’s sake.”