The Dirty Series 1(34)

All of the words I’d practiced fly out of my mind.

“Cate,” I say, and even to me it sounds agonized, begging, pleading.

She looks into my eyes for one crystal second and then launches herself forward, fisting my shirt and yanking me inside. It’s a glorious, violent movement and we crash into each other, our lips fitting together so hard and fast that I know this was goddamn meant to be.

Cate’s the one pulling and I let her, tasting her deeply as she moves us back into her apartment, back to her simple, classy living room setup, an armchair and a sofa, and then, when we reach the coffee table, she does something that takes my breath away.

She pulls her face away from mine, her grip still locked on my collar, and looks at me, her hazel eyes burning into my soul. Through gritted teeth, she gives me a simple command: “Punish me.”

My cock throbs painfully at her words and as soon as they’re out of her mouth I’m in action, tearing her clothes from her body, manhandling her breasts, her waist, covering her mouth with kisses that have only one message: she is mine.

When she’s naked before me, I take one greedy look at her flawless skin, the curves of her ass, the waves of her dark hair falling over her collarbone, and then I turn her over and press her down so she’s kneeling on the coffee table.

“Hands and knees,” I bark, and she instantly snaps into the perfect position, her back arched, ass in the air, begging for it.

I bring my hand down on one ass cheek, not holding back, and she gasps, cries out, relief in her voice, and when I slip my fingers between her legs she’s already wet.

I bring my hand down five more times on her ass, the pink handprints blooming under my palm, wetness running down between her legs, before I can’t wait any longer.

Belt undone, pants falling, I free my cock from the prison of my briefs and turn her, shift her so she’s facing away from me, and drive all of my thickness into her in one hard thrust, reaching around and clasping my hand over her mouth just in time to catch her scream of pleasure.

Here is the edge, here she is trembling before it, and I fuck her until she goes over, her body spent, quaking, gripping me, loving me, mine.





Chapter Twenty-Four





Cate



He spends Saturday and Sunday at my apartment, and there’s hardly an hour we spend not making love, not fucking like animals on every surface available in my apartment. We don’t speak much. I don’t want to.

I don’t want to hear that this is it, that this weekend is the peak of our agreement, that it’s still over.

The way he sounded when he said my name didn’t give me that impression, but I’ve learned one thing about Jax Hunter: you never know.

So on Sunday evening, when he shrugs his shirt over his shoulders, kisses me once, deeply, stroking my cheek, and then slips out the front door, I don’t say anything.

Silent still, I climb into the shower and let the hot water run over every inch of me. I don’t want the scent of him to disappear from my skin but even the air conditioning couldn’t compete with the heat that exists between us, and I need to get clean.

My body is relaxed in a way I thought it might never be again, and while I stand in the warmth of the shower, my eyelids start getting heavier and heavier.

By the time I step out from the shower and towel off, I’m practically sleepwalking and fall naked into my bed, tumbling into a dark, dreamless sleep.



In the morning I pay the price.

I’m so exhausted, so spent, that I don’t hear any of my alarms and wake from a dream about sirens at 7:50, my mind instantly screaming at me to get up, get going, this could ruin everything. I’ve completely missed my session with Carl, but as soon as I step out of bed I know I wouldn’t have been able to handle it anyway.

It feels like I’m trying to run underwater.

Forcing my eyes open is a torture I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, and my hands won’t follow my instructions as I struggle into the first outfit I pull out of my closet and wrestle my hair into an acceptable shape. This is what I get for going to sleep without drying it.

Mark is waiting outside, the car idling by the curb, and when I get there he has his phone in his hand. I probably have several missed calls from him, wondering if I’m all right. He’s a good man, and when he sees me, his face fills with concern.

“Cate? Are you—?”

“I’m fine,” I snap. “I just overslept. We have to hurry.” My tongue feels thick in my mouth, the words difficult to form. I just need time to wake up. If I could just get some coffee, I’d be fine.

After I apologize for being so rude, I call ahead and have Manuel get the coffee order ready in advance. I’m going to have to take it up myself this morning. If I get there in time. If this is the one morning Sandra shows up early, I’m screwed.