Hard (13 page)

The
bar is two portable one-pieces pushed together with a black curtain
draped in front of each. Someone way down on Ryder’s totem pole
of fight night workers probably packs and unpacks it every weekend,
but I guess that’s the thing with fight night: while it’s
happening, the action and excitement seem never-ending, but there can
be no trace left when it’s over, the warehouse left empty, like
everything that happens here tonight is just a dream.

I squeeze my way through the small pack of waiting patrons to the
plastic counter top, leaning across to try to get the bartender’s
attention at the other end with no success. “If a pretty girl
can’t get a drink, what hope do the rest of us have?” a
man behind me says.

I look over my shoulder at him. He’s tall, handsome, his blond
hair long, almost to his shoulders, framing his square jaw. “I
think that guy has decided to forget about this side of the bar
entirely,” I say. “Do you know how to whistle?”

“Put your lips together and blow?” he says.

I smile at the old movie line. “That’s how I usually do
it.”

He tucks his golden hair behind his ear. “I wouldn’t mind
seeing that sometime.”

I purse my lips and bend over the bar, holding onto the blond hunk’s
hard bicep as I balance in my high, high heels, whistling in the
direction of the bartender, who continues to ignore anyone not right
in front of him. Not that I expected him to hear me really. I mean,
I’m aware that a little bird whistle isn’t going to get
anyone’s attention.

But I’m also aware that I have Ryder’s attention. Fully.

I can see him over the blond guy’s shoulder, his arms folded
across his chest, jaw jutted out, his legs spread to make his stance
strong and imposing. He knows that I’m aware he’s
watching me. Wanting me.

From the way Ryder’s eyes are locked on us, he clearly doesn’t
approve of my flirting with this guy, touching his arm, letting him
hold my waist. But the expression on his face isn’t jealousy.
Not possession. I know all too well the look of those desires and how
stifling they can be. Sebastian wanted to own me. Ryder wants to
claim me.

So
come and get me then.

RYDER

Cassie McEntire has a gold medal-worthy ass: tight and defined, with
the curve of a half moon. No matter what she wears, it’s there,
pressing against her jeans or shorts or skirt, just waiting, tempting
someone to grab it or bite it or press his fingers into her flesh,
each cheek a perfect handful.

Which
this fucking superhero movie stand-in, with his hand only inches
above her ass, seems determined to experience for himself.

I’m
barely aware of the two grown men behind me trying to pummel each
other into oblivion in the ring. We’ve made a lot of money
tonight, but immediately after Tyler gives me a numbers update, the
information dissolves, moves out of the way so my brain can focus on
more urgent matters, like what color panties are covering Cassie’s
world-class ass, and what they’d look like in a ball on my
bedroom floor.

This
week in my office, I hadn’t meant to be a prick. I hadn’t
meant to be anything other than naked and sweaty and loud with her. I
said a dumb thing, then I said that I was sorry, which I thought was
the right thing, but from the way she’s dressed tonight, the
way she’s holding onto that boy band reject, she’s
clearly going to make me work a little harder to get back to tasting
her skin, feeling her hips pressed against me.

From
the bar she glances at me, teasing me, and I fucking love it. It’s
sexy as hell, a woman who knows how badly I want her making sure I
know how badly everyone else wants her, too. But this little game of
wills can’t go on all night. One of us has to concede. Give up.
Submit to the other one’s dominance.

And
like I say, I always win.

Boy
Band is consumed with waving down the bartender as I walk toward the
bar, and he doesn’t notice me. That’s his first mistake.
His hand is still on Cassie, having migrated to the small of her
back. I stand on the other side of her. Her head is turned away from
me, but she cuts her eyes in my direction, and seeing me brings a
trace of a smile to her pretty, plump lips. I push her hair away from
her ear and whisper, “It’s time to go, tiger.”

She
tilts her head toward me. “Says who?”

“Your
boss,” I say.

“I’m
not your employee tonight.”

“But
you’re still mine,” I say. I let my hand drop down her
side. “Every part of you.” Slowly, my fingertips slide
beneath the front hem of her dress, trailing up her inner thigh. Very
still, she grips the bar and narrows her eyes, spreading her legs
slightly to give me access to her pussy, wet and warm and slick.

“Hey,
man, can I help you?” Boy Band says. He eyes me up and down,
and I can tell he doesn’t know who I am, has no clue that with
one gesture I could have him hauled out of here by three guys whose
hands are the size of his head. Second mistake. But I’m willing
to let it slide.

A
few years ago I might have challenged this guy to get in the ring, or
even just decked him right here. But I’m a thirty-year-old
businessman now, not just some brash kid who’s too strong and
quick for his own good. And besides, he’s caught me in an up
moment. A sweet spot, so to speak.

“It’s
cool, dude,” I say, releasing Cassie from my fingers. I take
her by the hand. “We were just leaving.”

“Do
you know this guy?” he says to Cassie.

She
nods. “I work for him.”

“Although
right now,” I say, leading Cassie from the bar, “I’m
gonna go work under her.”

Boy
Band takes her forearm, like we’re in a tug o’war. “She’s
with me, bro,” he says. Mistake number three, and this one’s
a fatal error in judgment on his part.

Removing
his hand from her arm, I step in front of Cassie, right into Boy
Band’s baby face. “I don’t think so,
bro
,”
I say. “See her shoes?” Boy Band glances behind me at
Cassie’s tall pumps. “Red doesn’t really go with
blond hair.” I clap him on the shoulder. “So I’m
pretty lucky,” I say, pointing to my dark hair. “Because
those high heels are gonna look perfect wrapped around my head
tonight.”

A
little intimidation goes a long way when you look like me. I smile
and the guy backs up a step.

Cassie raises her eyebrows at me, then gives a little wave to Boy
Band as I guide her to the exit, my hand on the small of her back, so
temptingly near her impeccable, peach-shaped ass that I’m this
close to taking her into a dark corner right here in the warehouse,
cupping a cheek in each palm and burying my head between her legs,
kissing and licking and tasting, her sweetness lingering on my lips
as I twist my tongue in and out of her perfect pussy.

I want her to moan as she leans against the wall, her hands pulling
at my hair as she props one high heel over my shoulder, and I press
her quivering thighs back with my hands, spreading them wide as I bat
her clit with the firm tip of my tongue, faster and faster and
faster, her muscles twitching with excitement and energy until all
she can do is come, her body quaking on my mouth as she closes her
legs around me, enveloping me in a soft cloud of her skin.

I want this girl. Tonight. Now. I want to hear Cassie scream my name
while I’m inside her like it’s the only word she can
remember. I want to watch her ride my cock, her eyes closed, her head
thrown back, her tits bouncing, her nipples hard and peaked and
daring me to suck on them, which, of course, I will, wrapping my
mouth around them tightly, letting my teeth sink lightly into the
delicate skin of her areolas, not enough to hurt, but enough that she
can’t get enough.

I’m going to hold her against me, our sweat and our smells
mixing as I grab her hips, her hair, her throat, as I thrust myself
into the deepest part of her for as long as she’ll let me
because there is nothing I want more tonight than her gorgeous pussy
wrapped around my hard, fucking cock.

And from the way Cassie walks through the warehouse, swiftly enough
that the back of her dress swishes behind her, each one of her steps
a barely missed chance to let me glimpse what’s beneath her
skirt, I can tell she knows she’s giving me these ideas. And
maybe the stiffest erection of my life.

I take a deep, calming breath, summoning the self-control to wait on
devouring her until we get to my place. And once we’re there,
maybe I’ll make her wait, too. Let her beg me a little. There’s
nothing like a pretty, naked girl who says
please
.

CASSIE

From Ryder’s penthouse balcony, the lights of Atlanta glimmer
for miles and miles in the darkness, like a clutter of unknown
constellations, though since we got here half an hour ago, I’ve
gotten so lost in kissing him I’ve hardly noticed the view. At
this height, there’s no break in the black night except the
moonlight, and we stand faintly outlined against the cylindrical
metal railing, our tongues entwined, my hands on his muscular back,
his on my breasts. His teeth tug lightly on my bottom lip as his hand
pinches my nipples through the thin material of my dress. The summer
night’s unusually cool air collides with our body heat: it’s
like we’re creating the perfect storm thirty-one floors up in
the clouds.

And I’m planning to get soaking wet.

We’re both still fully clothed. I’m still in my high
heels. If they’re pinching my feet, as these kinds of shoes
often do after a night out, I can’t even tell because
everything is overshadowed by the ache between my legs, which grows
more intense as his mouth presses on mine, his hands exploring my
body, running underneath my dress and gripping my hips.

He kisses my collarbone, then slowly begins to unzip my dress,
marching his lips delicately across the tops of my bare breasts,
revealing my nipples, erect and firm, taking each of them into his
warm mouth one at a time.

I run my palm up and down his cock, hard and big, pushing against the
soft material of his suit pants and I imagine how it would feel to
have it push inside of me. “For that,” he says, reading
my mind, “you’re going to have to ask nicely.”

“I’m always nice,” I say, stroking him.

He swirls his tongue around my nipples slowly, and then quickly,
spiraling until I’m dizzy with desire. “Is that why you
were going to go home with that boy band reject?” he says.
“Just to be nice?”

“I wasn’t going anywhere with him,” I say, my free
hand mussing the back of Ryder’s head as he kisses down my
abdomen. “I was always coming with you tonight.”

“Oh, you are gonna come with me, tiger,” he says. “More
than once.” From my waist, he twists me around, turns me to
face the city below. He slides his hands down my arms, and one by
one, closes my fingers around the balcony railing.

At this late hour—it must be three in the morning by now—the
city is quiet. I can hear only my heart’s thudding in my ears
as Ryder, standing behind me, pulls my hips toward him. He tilts my
ass in the air and spreads my legs.

“You know what I like best about this condo lately?” he
says. He pushes up my dress and kisses my low back.

“What?” I say, breathless. I feel strong and weak at the
same time, every muscle contracted but trembling, like I’m
liquid with excitement.

“This view,” Ryder says, rolling my panties down my
thighs, past my knees as he follows them with his lips, “is
spectacular.” He runs his hand over the roundness of my now
naked ass, then curves his fingers inside me as his tongue flicks at
my spread lips.

Every cell melts like hot wax and my whole body sinks into his hand,
into his mouth. I moan, breaking the night’s quiet, the echo
traveling down into the city through empty boulevards, alleyways,
open windows. The sound of someone getting what she wants.

As he licks at my wetness, I tighten my fingers around the railing
and buoy myself softly on his face, undulating with his movement, his
fingers pressing inside me, nudging, exploring, a combination of
pressure and pleasure.

Still kneeling behind me, he takes his fingers out of me, and his
tongue brushes my opening as the tip teases my clit, circling
tightly, then flicking back and forth, every muscle fiber in my body
tingling with electricity. My back arches and my wrists flex as he
sucks me, tastes me, and I gasp as my insides coil tight and ready,
burning with need, because right now his tongue isn’t enough.

My body is buzzing, and I want him so bad now I’m weak from it.
I don’t even know if I have the muscle coordination or the
awareness to move from this position, bent over, the most vulnerable
parts of me exposed.

From behind, Ryder grabs my hips, turns me again to face him. He
kisses me and I can taste myself on his mouth, like I’m sharing
his experience of what just happened. I cup his face, tracing my
fingers across his cheekbones. With his long arms, he lifts me up,
holding me under my ass as I wrap my legs around his hips, the top of
my dress still half off, my stilettos still fully on. I’m ready
and willing and I can’t wait another second. I pant against his
neck as he carries me into the dark condo. Finally. The stiffness in
his pants pushes between my legs as he walks. “Take your cock
out,” I say as I unbutton his shirt.

“What’s the rule?” he says, still holding me,
pushing my back against the smooth, cool wall of his bedroom, my toes
brushing against the side of a tall dresser.

“Maybe I don’t want to be a nice girl right now.” I
tilt my pelvis toward him as I lean against the wall, running my
hands across his naked chest.

“Maybe you better behave,” he says. He squeezes my ass
tighter, bringing me close to him. “Or I’m going to make
you beg for it.”