The Dirty Series 2(42)

It drives me absolutely fucking wild.

I let her fuck me for as long as I can stand it, and then I wrap my hands on either side of her hips and help drive her down even harder. Her head is thrown back, and her hair bounces with every thrust.

“Please,” she pleads again, through gritted teeth.

This time, I don’t make her beg.

I wait three more thrusts and then remove one of my hands from her hips, sliding it around to the front, then trace my thumb from her belly button all the way down to her cleft.

When my thumb makes contact with her clit, she comes with a cry of pure sexual satisfaction, her back arching, hands digging in so she doesn’t fall.

Her muscles are still spasming powerfully around my cock when I follow her lead. It’s been months, years, since I came so hard. The release is so strong that my vision blurs and my heart skips a beat.

When I come down again, Angelica folds forward, tucking her head against my shoulder, and I rub her back while her shuddering breaths grow calm and even.

Just before I follow her into sleep, when the day’s defenses are nonexistent and all of my muscles are deeply relaxed, a thought floods my mind.

I never want her to leave.





Chapter Nine





Angelica



I wake up with a start sometime in the middle of the night.

For a few moments, I have no fucking clue where I am. Whose bed is this? Whose arm is this, thrown protectively over my waist?

Then I take in a deep breath and catch his scent.

Jett Brandon.

He’s sleeping deeply, peacefully, his breathing even and slow, but it doesn’t matter—heat rises to my cheeks as the memory of the unbelievable sex we had floods my mind.

I suck in a breath and bite my lip. My first instinct is to press his arm down until his hand makes contact with my clit. What man could sleep through that? He’ll wake up knowing for certain that I want—

But I can’t.

The warmth in my belly is doused with ice. I still haven’t done what I came here to do.

I didn’t come here to fuck Jett Brandon—not really. I came here to install a program on his computer. To do what Charlie instructed me to do so that a few stitches is the worst thing that happens to my brother.

Now is my chance, but Jett’s arm is curled tightly around me. If I try to move it, will he stir, pull me back into bed? If I have to, I guess I’ll lie awake for the rest of the night, waiting for another opportunity to sneak away. To do what I have to do.

I swallow hard. I don’t want him to wake up and catch me in the act. Because there’s a part of me that wants this to be more than a one-night stand, more than a fling that happened because he stopped that elevator and climbed on.

Get a fucking grip, Angelica.

Jett Brandon is not the kind of man who’s going to want to get into a relationship with a woman like me. It takes five seconds of realism to see that the end game is a disaster. What, a billionaire is going to come home with me to the single-wide trailer I grew up in and meet my mother, who still lives there? Who still works at the convenience store at the intersection of two highways, fifteen miles out of town?

There’s no point in even considering it.

As for Charlie’s instructions, it’s now or never.

I take a deep, steadying breath and slide one arm under Jett’s, gently pushing it off to the side. His breathing changes when his hand hits the sheets, but I lie perfectly still as he rolls over. It can’t be more than a minute before he’s sleeping deeply again.

Now for phase two.

As carefully as possible, I inch my way to the side of the bed, then guide my legs over the side. When I stand up, my toes sink into the plush carpeting, but I don’t move.

He’s still sleeping.

Once my heart settles a little bit, I pad across the room. His bedroom door is open—he didn’t shut it when we came in and I’m the first one out of bed.

The hallway outside is illuminated with running lights along the trim that activate when I step out, and my heart pounds at the sight of it. Then I realize this is exactly what they’re meant for—to give just enough light in the middle of the night without blinding you. It takes no time for my eyes to adjust.

Of course, now there’s literally a lighted trail following me down the hall.

Going to the bathroom, I think. If he catches you, you were just trying to find the bathroom. I’m not stupid enough to think that a billionaire would have settled for a bathroom outside of his master suite, but people do strange things when they’ve woken in the middle of the night in a strange place. That will explain it.

My purse is on the floor just outside the threshold of Jett’s bedroom, right where I dropped it on the way in. I bend down and move things aside until my fingers close around the smooth plastic cover of the thumb drive. I leave the purse on the floor. It would be fucking stupid to move it now and then have him wonder what I was doing.