Page 32 of Nasty
Maybe Sofia and Martina were a bad idea. Some women felt threatened by others, especially if they were attractive. The sisters were definitely attractive, but I’d never touched either of them. Never done more than grunted an acknowledgement in their general direction whenever I’d found myself in their presence. It was one thing, offing the occasional made man in Hell’s Kitchen. It was another thing altogether sticking my dick inside one of their daughters. I wasn’t that fucking dumb. And besides how absolutely crazy I would have needed to be to involve myself in that kind of trouble, I’d never had any real desire to fuck either of them. They were vapid, dull women without an ounce of personality between them. They were too obedient and well trained for my tastes. I always wanted a girl who would pull at the leash. And now I had a woman who refused to wear one altogether. She was fucking perfect.
I was already thinking this when I saw Sera’s reflection in the window. When I spun around to look at her properly, though, my breath left my body all at once.
Holy…fucking…shit.
She was stunning. Her dark hair had been curled into loose waves, and her makeup was immaculate. It barely looked like she was wearing anything at all, but as I grew closer, the distance between us vanishing, I could see that I was wrong. Her eyes were smoky, just like the sisters’ eyes, but it was subtler. Less obvious. Her lips were a fresh, neutral pink-peach color, and slightly glossy. God, I wanted to bite those lips between my teeth. I wanted to see them parted open and swollen, while she panted out my name, begging me to come inside her. I wanted those lips wrapped around my cock…
Fuck, I wanted all of it. And I wanted it right now.
The dress she’d selected was exquisite. Her tits were on display in the very best way, and the black, silken material of the slim-fitting, floor-length gown, hugged her curves perfectly. When she took a step toward me, I groaned out loud as the material of the skirt parted, revealing the entire length of Sera’s toned, golden, impeccable leg. From ankle to hip, she was perfection. And that wasn’t all. She halted in front of me, a small smile playing on her face, and when she turned…
The dress was backless. Completely backless. The material scooped dramatically, plunging all the way down, so that even the very lowest point of her back was on show.
Magnificent.
She was absolutely magnificent.
I pointed to the door, trying to keep my temperature down as I slowly opened my mouth and spoke. “Ladies. You can leave. Now.”
The smile on Sera’s face grew wider.
“You’re pleased with our work?” Martina asked. “Our uncle will be very unhappy if you’re not satisfied.”
“I’m very satisfied. But I would have been just as happy without the dress, or the makeup, or the hair. She’s perfect just the way she is.”
The sisters left without another word—a good thing, since I was about ready to pick them up and forcibly remove them from the penthouse. Once we were alone, I discarded my empty scotch glass on the coffee table, and I rushed Sera, sweeping her up into my arms. “Fuck. You have no idea how badly I want to thrust myself inside you right now. You’re fucking breathtaking. I want your cunt on my mouth. I need you to ride the fuck out of my face or I’m going to fucking die.”
She laughed, the sound peeling through the penthouse like the ringing of a bell. I’d never heard her make that sound before. Not once. To hear it now, with her in my arms, looking so spectacular, her hands pressed up against my chest, her eyes revealing her reluctant amusement, was the most amazing moment I’d experienced in well over a decade.
“I don’t think there’s time for any face-riding,” she murmured. “Unless showing up fashionably late to this party is an option, that is.”
Fuck. Itwasn’tan option. Rabbit’s parties were notorious for being impossible to get into. Even if you had an invite like the one sitting in my pocket right now, the same invitation Monica had opened without my consent, there was still a fifty/fifty chance you wouldn’t be admitted. If you weren’t dressed well enough? If you seemed even slightly drunk? You weren’t getting inside. The invite clearly stated admittance was between eight and nine pm, and they weren’t fucking around either. I’d seen it happen plenty of times—people, showing up to party five minutes after nine, and that was it. There was no bending or breaking the rules, no matter who you were. Rabbit’s rules were steadfast and concrete. There was no circumnavigating or cheating them. It didn’t matter who the fuck you were.
I lowered my mouth slowly, until Sera understood that I wanted to kiss her. She tipped her head back, exposing the pure, alabaster, creamy skin of her throat, and I was tempted to dip my head down and bite her there. It would be a sinful pleasure to sink my teeth into her skin. To feel her flesh yield to me beneath the pressure. I would save it for later, though. I’d only end up marking her, and how would that look, walking into a packed party, if she had a huge welt on her neck?It was hard, though. Shit. So fucking hard. And I wasn’t just talking about my dick.
My lips touched hers, and I stifled yet another groan as I tasted her mouth—she was so fucking sweet. She was timid with her tongue as she licked and laved at me. I took great fucking pleasure in the knowledge that I wasn’t going to be timid with my tongue later. I was going to use it to make her buck, and scream, and writhe.
Sera’s breath started to quicken, as I slid my hands down her body, grabbing hold of her ass. “Your body melts beneath my hands whenever I touch you,” I growled into her mouth. “I love making you melt.”
“I can’t…seem to stop myself,” she admitted. “You have this crazy effect on me. I don’t understand it. It takes me by surprise every single time. All it takes is one look from you…”
I ground my teeth together, resisting the urge to tear her out of her dress right here and now.
I was strong. I could defy my own urges. My cock was going to be throbbing painfully all damn night, but I could restrain myself. If it meant I was able to leave the laptop with Rabbit, able to track down this phantom client who’d introduced himself as Carver, then it would be more than worth it.
Fastening my bottom lip between my teeth, I cursed the world for demanding we show up and play a part in it this evening. “Come on, Angel,” I murmured, breathing in the fresh, floral scent of her hair. “It’s time to go to church.”
FOURTEEN
FIX
FIVE YEARS AGO
My feet were killing me. They felt weird in the sneakers I’d put on my feet—too new, not broken in, and strange. I’d worn leather shoes for years now. Simple, smart, respectable dress shoes that went unnoticed beneath a cassock. The sneakers were cushioned, nothing fancy in themselves, but…they were too comfortable. A strange issue, but after so long feeling every crack in the ground underfoot through the dress shoes, the fact that I couldn’t feel the streets of New York beneath my feet now was unsettling.
I’d been walking for hours. Six hours to be precise. I’d needed to clear my head, to get out of the penthouse that I was also still so unused to sleeping in, but I found that even now I couldn’t stop my mind from racing.
Everything had changed. Nothing was the same. I felt uneasy in my skin, as if I’d donned a suit that belonged to someone else and was completely unrecognizable to me. I was wearing someone else’s skin. Ever since I’d left seminary, I’d been Father Marcosa. I’d had responsibilities and a set list of rules that were to be adhered to on a daily basis. I’d known exactly what was expected of me, and I’d known exactly how to behave. Today, I’d shrugged out of Father Marcosa’s skin, along with his cassock and his familiar, thin-soled shoes, and I’d become someone else entirely.
