Page 12 of Dirty
“Yes.” I exhaled the word on an exhausted breath.
“Wheredo you want me to come?”
“Inside me,” I told him. “I’m on birth control.” The prospect of him coming inside me turned me on more than anything ever had. I’d never let Gareth come inside me, even though I received the contraceptive injection every three months. I’d just never wanted to be that intimate with him. But with Fix, a man I didn’t even know, and never would, I wanted it so bad I could think of nothing else.
“All right. I’m gonna let myself loose,” Fix spoke into my ear. “I’m not going to hold back. You still want this?”
“Yes! Fuck yes, Fix. Make me come again.”
From behind, Fix wound his hand around my body, his fingers closing lightly around my throat. His lips brushed my ear as he spoke. “Oh, I intend on it. Get ready, Angel.”
And he fucked me. He rocked against me, slamming himself home, making me scream every time he pushed himself inside me as deep as he could. It felt so good. More than good. It felt fucking amazing.
When he came inside me, I called out, my own orgasm ripping through me at the same time, and Fix clung to my body, holding me tight, locking me in place as he pumped me full of his come. I was bone tired and weary when he spun me over and laid me out on the mattress.
“See? Being greedy is pretty fucking awesome,” he said quietly. His hand slipped down, between my legs, and my eyes rolled back into my head as he dipped his fingers into my pussy. They were sticky and covered in his come when he held them up a second later. I was too tired to ask him what he was doing as he used his fingertips to paint around my areolas and the tightened buds of my nipples. He painted a line down my belly, and then proceeded to rub his semen all over the insides of my thighs and my hips. He smirked like the devil himself when he rubbed his fingers against my lips, and I used the tip of my tongue to taste him.
“BadAngel,” he whispered, smiling as if to himself. “Close your eyes now. It’s time to get some rest.”
FOUR
DEBT
SERA
How could itstillbe raining? Water droplets pelted at the windows, the sound of fingers insistently drumming against a table top, and weak, greyed morning light eked through the yellowed net curtains that had been hung from a cheap length of plastic coated wire, suspended haphazardly from hooks screwed directly into the ceiling. I closed my eyes, groaning internally. What time was it? I’d been getting up early my whole life—my internal body clock typically woke me at around six in the morning. Judging by the sun’s anemic attempt at dawn, today was no different. I reached out for my phone, patting my hand against the surface of the nightstand before locating the device and dragging it underneath the covers with me. Cracking just one eye, I inspected the screen, already prepared to be angry at whatever was displayed there. The clock read twelve minutes past six. Great. There were two text messages from Amy, asking me to call and let her know what was happening as soon as I could, and three missed calls from Ben, who was probably having an apoplectic fit by now. No messages from the office, though. None from Colby, my dog sitter, and none from Sadie.
I threw back the covers, resisting the urge to nurse my skull. It was my own fault that my head was pounding. That’s what happened when you smashed a whole bottle of tequila. Only…
Oh shit.
I hadn’t finished that bottle alone. I’d shared it with a dirty mouthed ingrate named Fix, and…oh my god. I’d fucked the bastard.
I laid as still as I could for a second, figuring out my options. The mattress next to me was cold, which meant he hadn’t slept beside me. That was a relief. But it was early—he was probably still crashed out in the other bed.Fuck.
This was so, so typical. I was my own worst enemy; without fail, I was blessed with the uncanny ability of taking a bad situation and making it even fucking worse. Time to get all my crap back into the rental and get the fuck out of here. And before my ass hat roommate woke up, too. Only, when I spun around, ready to sneak into the bathroom to quickly brush my teeth before heading out, Fix was nowhere to be seen. His bed was untouched, his sheets only rumpled a little from where he’d placed his bag on it last night. The bag which was now gone. Turning over, I saw the indention in the pillow next to me, the comforter thrown back on the other side of the bed, and I growled to myself. Hehadslept in the bed with me. He’d just gotten up and disappeared already. I didn’t know why, but it irked me that he’d managed to leave before me. It would have been far more gratifying to have been the one to sneak out on him, not the other way around.
I got dressed, treated myself to a two-minute shower, and dashed to the car, swearing loudly at the fact that I was, yet again, getting drenched by rain. It took thirty seconds to toss my bags into the trunk of the rental. I hadn’t eaten last night and my stomach was grumbling loudly. The Liberty Fields Guest House sign outside the building claimed the motel offered a continental breakfast between the hours of seven and nine, but I wasn’t going to hang around to check out whatever paltry of offering was going to be laid out in the lobby. Hell no. I’d grab something on the road, once I’d left Liberty Fields far behind, and the nightmarish place had disappeared from my rearview mirror altogether.
Twenty-two hours and seventeen minutes: the amount of time it was now going to take me to get to Fairhope, when I plugged the location of the church into the navigation app on my phone. The ceremony was a late one—two pm—and last night Aims had said she could push back the ceremony a little to accommodate my tardiness if she needed to. So there was time. Against all the odds, I was going to make it. Thank fuck for that.
I started the engine, spun the wheel, hit the accelerator, and a loud, offensive grinding sound assaulted my ears. What the hell wasthat? The car lurched forward, but it felt uneven. Wrong. Oh, no. Oh,no. This wasn’t happening. Was. Not. Happening.
I sat very still for a moment, staring straight ahead out of the car, my hands gripping hold of the steering wheel, while my mind did back flips. I didn’t know a thing about cars. I didn’t have a clue what was wrong with the vehicle, but it didn’t sound good. It certainly didn’t sound like something that was going to go away all on its own. The world outside was a blur of grey, and blue and brown as sheets of water streamed down the windshield. I had Triple A. I could call them and someone would come and resolve the issue for me for free, but how long would it take them to arrive? In this weather, with so many people struggling to get from A to B, it would be hours, and I didn’t have hours.
A knock on my window startled me, disturbing my downward descent into despair. I nearly screamed with frustration at the dark, distorted figure standing next to my car, but instead I growled under my breath, slapping my palm against the center console of the rental. A gust of wind blew into the car when I buzzed down the window, and the freezing cold blast of rainwater hit me square in the face. It was Fix. Of course it was Fix. He was wearing a black t-shirt and shorts, and both items of clothing were water logged, plastered to his body. He was covered in mud, his sneakers so badly caked in the stuff that I couldn’t even see what color they were, and his bare calves looked like they’d been sprayed down with dirt. His face was blank as he ducked down, resting his forearms against the driver’s side door of the car.
“What have you been doing?” I hissed at him.
“What does it look like? I went for a run.” His hair was spiky with water, the longer strands on top of his head slicked back out of his face. It was ridiculously unfair: he’d been too sexy to resist last night, and now, looking like he’d just completed an assault course, soaked to the skin, he was even sexier. Dark, brooding, and delicious. I railed against the way my heart rattled at the bars of my ribcage, letting me know exactly what it thought about Felix Marcosa, post run. I was doing my best to master my features into an expression void of any emotion, but I was giving too much away, I could tell.
“Who goes for a run in this kind of—ugh, never mind.” I shook my head, slapping my palm against the steering wheel. “My car’s broken.”
“Not your car. Your wheels. You have a flat.”
“Oh. Is that it?” That was a relief. A flat was easy. A flat was actually something I could take care of myself. “I have a spare in the trunk.”
“One isn’t gonna cut it,” Fix said casually, tapping his fingernail against the lip of the window. “You havethreeflats.”
