Page 24 of Betting on the Bad Boy
Dante
Damn,she felt good. I hadn’t expected to see her there. I hadn’t even planned to be there myself. But Wyatt insisted since I was working the late shift, I shouldn’t spend the whole night at the bar. With a few hours of free time and nowhere to go, I’d decided to check out the party at Murph’s.
I’d been about to leave when I saw Faith walk in. A temptress in red—garnet cloak, ruby hood, crimson dress, cherry lips. I got stuck on the lips and hadn’t been able to take my eyes off of her mouth. She didn’t usually wear lipstick and those siren lips screamed at me...kiss me! So, I did. And I was still.
She shifted toward me and put her hand behind my head, pulling me closer. Her fingers played with the hair at the nape of my neck as her tongue swirled around mine. I tangled one hand in her hair and tugged her closer with the other. Damn stick shift. Maybe it was time to get an automatic.
Unbuckling my seatbelt, I twisted toward her, taking the gear shift in the abs. It was worth it. My lips roamed down her cheek and onto her neck while my hands traveled under the cape, searching for a way to get inside that damn red dress. I ached to feel her next to me, skin-to-skin.
She tilted her head back against the seat and moaned. The sound of her losing some control just made me hotter. I was so goddamn hard I felt like I would explode. I gave up on trying to find a zipper and moved a hand to her skirt. I edged the dress up and up, the slippery material sliding all over the leather seats. Her hands skated over the inside of my jacket, racing over my chest, and I paused to take it off, not an easy task in the confined space.
More, I needed more. Something deeper and darker than desire coursed through me—the need to totally possess the tight-laced professor. I threw my jacket into the back and loosened my tie, unbuttoning the top button of my shirt in an effort to get a little more air into my lungs. Every part of me was on fire.
She reached up to pull me toward her, her lips scorching the soft spot at the hollow of my throat. I slid a hand underneath her dress again, ran it up the length of her thigh, and felt her heat through thin silky panties. She parted her legs. I slipped a finger underneath the lacy edge, pushing her underwear out of the way, making contact with her sweet, soft skin. My finger found its way inside, surrounded with the slick heat of her.
She strained against my hand. “Oh my god, Dante.”
Hearing my name rise up from the gravelly depths of her throat almost put me over the edge. With one hand making small circles around her clit, I propped myself up with a knee on the center console so I could take a breast in my other. I managed to get a hand inside the front of her dress and rubbed her nipple through the flimsy material of her bra.
“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
Her fingers fumbled with the button on my pants then slid into my boxer briefs and she wrapped her fingers around me. Hearing her so close to losing herself, I joined her at the brink. As she gasped and ground against me, a surge of pleasure welledup from my depths. There was no stopping it. I circled my finger inside her again and she clenched around me.
“Please, Dante, don’t stop.” Her whole body strained then shuddered as the waves of release washed over her and she came apart under my touch.
“Shit, oh Faith, shit, I’m going to?—”
Fuck! I was coming in the palm of her hand. Dammit. I tried to pull away and bumped the steering wheel. The blaring horn disturbed the silence.
Faith sat up with a start, the magic totally and completely broken. She looked up at me in a daze. The streetlight cast a pale glow across her face through the steamed-up windows.
Damn, she was beautiful. So fucking gorgeous with messed up hair, swollen lips, and her dress bunched around her waist. Knowing I was responsible for her current state of disarray made me smile in utter satisfaction.
Her voice cut through the hormone-induced haze. “Would you mind removing your finger from my...uh...” Faith gestured to her lap.
Fuck! I slid my finger out from inside of her and she shifted in her seat to face forward. She looked at her palm, covered in my DNA. Reality rushed in, yanking me away from the rosy afterglow. I grabbed my suit jacket and handed it to her.
“Are you sure you want me to wipe it on this?” she asked, looking at the floorboard.
Good point. “Here, use my shirt.” I leaned over and gave her the edge of my shirt to use as a towel. “Faith, I’m sorry?—”
She looked at me. The heat had seeped from her eyes. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression.”
I tried to make light of the situation. “That impression sure felt right to me?—”
“No. Let’s just pretend like this never happened, okay?”
Before I could answer, she opened the door and ran up the sidewalk to her apartment. She fumbled with her key for a moment then escaped inside.
Shit. What the fuck just happened? I was like a high school asshole trying to bag his first babe. She’d barely even touched me, and I couldn’t control myself. Smooth move, dickwad.
I’d had plenty of hook-ups before, mutually satisfying encounters in which both I and whichever woman I was with enjoyed ourselves then left things on good terms. But this, with Faith, this kind of reaction was brand new. I’d never had someone run away from me. Should I go after her?
From the look she’d given me, she probably needed some space. Hell, I might need some space as well. It had been a damn long time since I’d gotten that worked up that fast. She’d made it clear she wasn’t interested in fooling around. Besides, I needed to hurry if I wanted to take a quick shower before my shift at the bar. With one last look at her apartment, I turned the key and started the car.
Faith
I slammedthe door behind me, leaning up against it and forcing myself to take calming, soothing breaths. Fleeing from the car had felt like walking on spaghetti noodles, trying to get to the door before Dante saw me completely and utterly lose my final hold on control. What just happened? For sure, I was attracted to him. How could I not be? He was the kind of guy that couldn’t escape notice. The kind I wrote about. The kind I avoided as a matter of principle.
