And then I’m absolutely mesmerized as she starts to orgasm. I expected it to take her hard, but it rolls through her rather slowly. It ripples from her spine to her shoulders where she starts a full-body shudder.
Her eyes squeeze shut, more tears spill, and she lets out a long, low moan that goes on and on and on.
My finger hits the red stop button on the remote. While the dildo powers down slowly, I’m pulling a condom out and ripping it open. Doing nothing more than pushing my jeans past my hips, I spring my cock free and cover it up.
Lust pulses through me so hard I’m practically dizzy with the need to fuck her. She starts to regain some conscious focus and manages an, “Oh, fuck,” as I release the lever on the seat and pull her off with a wet sucking sound.
Turning to the glass, I pick her up, wrap her legs around my waist, and drive into her using her back against the glassed wall for leverage.
She screams and I almost come, so I just hold still as I bend my face to bite at her bare shoulder. “So sexy,” I praise.
Then I fuck her.
Up against the glass as the crowd watches, getting a great look at my cock stretching her already-overused pussy from behind.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter, surprising myself. I normally don’t let my words get in the way.
She in turn moans, “More, more, more.”
“Greedy little bird,” I growl as I hurl my body into hers, as deep as I’ve ever been in a woman.
She tightens all around me, a quick hard orgasm causing her to scream as her head falls back and hits the glass. I look down, seeing her beautiful tits jiggling under the material of her blue dress.
I bring a hand up, test the weight of one breast, and squeeze it lightly. Her head flies up, and she looks down at me. I bring my eyes up to hers, and we lock. Those eyes are magnificent… bright. Almost lime in color.
I pinch her nipple through the material, and her eyes harden with need. Snaking my fingers up, I pull the material down over the left breast and pop it free. She rotates her hips and grinds down on me, a silent plea for more. I take her nipple in between my thumb and forefinger and rotate it hard.
She bucks against me, and my balls shrink tight. I grab the material again, in the middle, and drag it down so I can see more of her gorgeous tits, the other one springing free with the nipple already begging me to torture it. I flick it with my middle finger and fuck me standing… she starts to orgasm again.
It’s all over for me. I slam into her repeatedly, my cock swelling and then exploding viciously as I watch her breasts jiggle from the pounding.
And that’s when I see it.
A crescent-shaped scar on the side of her right breast, raised and puffy.
What the fuck?
My eyes travel further down, and there’s a corresponding scar on the side of her breast that looks almost identical except it’s a bit smaller.
Oh, Jesus fuck, no.
The sight of those scars repulses me as much as they excite me… because I realize who I have in my arms. Whose pussy I’m claiming right now, and Christ… another violent ripple of pleasure courses through me with a secondary orgasm, but I’ve got nothing left in my balls to unload.
My eyes snap up to hers as my hips still move so I can prolong the best damn pleasure of my life.
Fucking goddamn Jorie Pearce.
Micah’s little sister.
CHAPTER 4
Jorie
I can tell the moment something changes between me and this man who just ruined me for life. After giving me the best sex of my entire life… after freeing me from myself… he turns inward and closes off.
I know he came. Maybe even twice.
But his eyes right now are blazing with fury, and I don’t want to see it.
I don’t want to know what I did wrong, or how bad I was, so I close my eyes against it.
His hand comes to my jaw, gripping it hard enough to get my attention. My eyelids spring open. It’s not lost on me that he’s still moving slowly within me, yet he looks at me like I’m repulsive.
“Let me down,” I mutter as my hands push against his chest.
He complies immediately, pulling out of me and setting me down so fast my legs buckle and I fall to my knees. Taking two steps back from me, he pulls the condom off and tosses it near a garbage can against the adjacent wall. It falls short and hits the concrete as I push back up.
“Cover yourself up,” he snaps as he tucks himself back into his jeans, zipping them up.
I pull my dress down over my bare ass, feeling wetness between my legs that’s evidence of my own arousal and not his semen. It shames me greatly, and then I’m quickly covering my breasts with the material.
Before I know what’s happening, he’s got his huge hand clamped around my upper arm and pulling me to the door. He pauses just long enough to bend over and swipe my panties off the ground, shoving them in his front pocket.
I struggle to keep up with his long legs, which is difficult given the four-inch heels Elena talked me into wearing. My legs are weak, and I’m so confused over the fact I can feel little tremors of pleasure still pulsing between my legs.
It’s in vain when I try to jerk my arm free, and fear fills me when he drags me out of the glassed room, out of The Silo, down another hall that says Private, and into a locker room I suspect is for employees.
“Goddamn it, Jorie,” the man says as he turns me to face him while still gripping me tightly.
“Ow, you asshole,” I grit out as I successfully jerk my arm away from him and rub it. “What the hell?”
He just stares at me with hard, flat eyes.
“Wait,” I say as a shiver runs up my spine that has nothing to do with a residual orgasm and everything to do with apprehension. “Did you just call me Jorie?”
His shoulders drop almost in defeat and his head sags so he’s looking at the floor. Almost wearily, he loosens a tie at the back and pulls the mask over his head. When he looks back at me, my legs go numb.
I stumble back two feet, my ass coming up hard against a locker that rattles. “No.”
Walsh Brooks stares at me without an ounce of contrition for what he just did to me, but he’s clearly distressed if the darkness in his eyes is any indication.
“What in the fuck are you doing here?” he growls, and his voice is different from what I’d heard in that glass room. It hits me all at once that the voice I’d heard in there was Walsh Brooks amped up on kink and lust, which was why his words came out all gravely and loaded with desire, changing it so much I hadn’t heard anything that resembled the man I knew.
I haven’t seen him in almost ten years, and so much has changed about him. Gone is the shaven, clean-cut executive. Before me stands a man who looks like a rock god. But he’s not that either. He’s very much a businessman who owns a casino here in Vegas. He’s a millionaire probably a million times over.
But his hair is just down to his shoulders, dark as sin and slightly wavy as it falls back from a middle part. His fawn-brown eyes are the same, straight nose and cut cheekbones, but he’s wearing a trimmed beard that runs just along his jawline and it’s so damn sexy.
Then again… Walsh was always the sexiest man I’d ever seen regardless of how he wore his hair. I’d crushed on him hard in my teens, and even after I turned eighteen and headed to Los Angeles, I tended to compare men I’d dated and slept with to him.