Page 20 of Dealing Dirty
“Is that what this is all about,princessa?” My heart thunders in its cage. Juliana’s chest rises and falls quickly as she presses her nails into her thigh. “You’re ashamed of the way you cried out for me?”
My throat tightens. I know what she sees is an animal on a tight, yet fragile leash. “Are you embarrassed that you guided my hand slowly up your thigh and brushed my fingers against your soaking wet panties?” I trace the tip of my finger along the soft, sensitive skin of her neck.
“Stop it,” she says weakly, swallowing a breathy denial.
“Should I remind you how you wrapped those delicious legs around my body, grinding yourself against my dick while I sucked on your breasts?” She flutters her thick lashes and blood pounds through my body, straight to my groin. I wait for her to refuse me the way she pretends she wants to, for her to remind me that we’re nothing more than friends, but the refusal never comes.
Our faces are close enough that if I moved forward even an inch, she could devour my mouth, and I almost beg her to.
“You spread yourself like a buffet, eagerly inviting me to enjoy that heat between your legs. I wanted to taste you so badly, Juliana. Had I been given the chance, I would have savored you through your panties first before tearing them away with my teeth and diving into that sweetness with my tongue.”
Driving home my point, I swipe the tip of my tongue over her bottom lip, relishing her panting breaths against my lips. “What a treat you would have been.”
Her irises are a deep black in the dark of night, and when they flick to my lap, I know she’s imagining how painfully hard I am for her.
She blinks once, twice, before placing a hand over her chest. A gentle shake of her head clears the fog. “Wait, what are you saying?”
The spell she’s put me under fades with the truth that I’m hesitant to give her. I should enjoy torturing her—and I’ll admit, it’s more than tempting—but if she’s spent these last few months ravaged with guilt because she thinks she took advantage of me, then she’s had a fair taste of torment.
“We didn’t have sex, Juliana.”
Her jaw goes slack before she sputters, “Y-you’re lying.”
A cold, unwelcome sensation slithers down my spine. “You really think I would have had my way with you after you passed out?”
“I—” She doesn’t get another word past the tapping sound coming from my window.
Sasha’s waving excitedly as I roll my window down to greet her.
“Hey, sis.”
Light blue eyes fall to a sulking Juliana, and she gives her a polite, cautious smile.
“Is… everything okay?” she asks.
Her bright auburn hair is pulled back in a low, slicked-back bun, and I’m riddled with guilt just looking at her in uniform. It takes every ounce of strength I possess not to break my promise to Jack and tell her the truth right here.
“Yeah, just fine. Sasha, this is Juliana. We work together at The Pound.” There, that’s simple enough. No reason for her to suspect anything else between us.
“Oh! It’s so nice to meet one of Derrick’s friends!” She beams before cracking open the back door and stepping up into the truck.
The sound of the door slamming spurs me into motion as I wonder just how in the hell I’m going to survive the woman beside me.
Chapter Six
Juliana
We didn’t have sex.
My conversation with Derrick a few nights ago is still fresh in my mind. I bite back a moan, remembering his fingers coaxing goose bumps from my flesh and all the dirty things he’d whispered to me. A girl could get used to that.
I catch a quick glimpse of him as he steps away from the bar and into the dark hall that leads to the locker rooms. I’ve barely spoken a word to him in the past three days. It’s not the confession that has me avoiding the handsome devil, more the lack of relief I was hoping to feel afterward.
After dropping off a round of beers to an intimidating group of bikers, I pivot to the table behind me to load empty glasses onto my serving tray. Three gossiping women at an adjacent table mention something about Mayor Williams. My hand stills over an empty mug as I carefully lean closer, hoping to hear some delicate information that could prove useful to the guys.
They chat excitedly about how handsome he is, wondering aloud what they’ll have to do to sneak into the next party he’s hosting. Apparently, he’s notorious for putting on some snazzy shindigs at his mansion.
“Mansion,” I scoff quietly enough that no one hears. For a moment, I wonder if Bruce has been feeding the man’s party habits with all the dirty money he’s made in his casinos.
