Everything for Us (The Bad Boys #3)(45)
Author: M. Leighton

I shrug, turning my head to take another long pull from my bottle. My dick twitches when I feel her tongue on my throat. Apparently she warms up quite nicely when she’s drinking.

“I’m so glad you changed your mind,” she purrs, rubbing her chest against mine. “And I love the wig. Longer hair suits you.”

My hair is loose, my bangs hanging on either side of my face, all the way to my chin. It’s a wonder she recognized me at all. Or thinks she did, anyway.

Impulsively, I wrap my free arm around her waist and lift until her feet are off the floor. Slowly, I back her up until I feel the resistance of the railing behind her. Then I set her down again.

“Why so glad?” I ask, keeping talk to a minimum so there’s a lesser chance of her discovering who I really am.

“Because I need someone to kiss right now. And it’s only us girls out here.” She pauses to look around. I do the same. But for us, the balcony is empty now. “Well, was,” she giggles. It appears everyone has left and wandered back inside. It’s just me and Marissa and the half million people milling around on the streets below us, some of them no doubt watching.

“Well, I’m here now,” I say, staring down into her almond-shaped eyes. She might be a frigid bitch most of the time, but she’s got some spice in her. I can see it in the smoky invitation of her gaze, in the sexy curve of her mouth.

“Yes, you are.” She leans into me, pressing her lips to mine. While the kiss is warm, like she’s familiar with whom she’s kissing, it lacks real . . . heat. I wonder if this is all that she and Cash share. This superficial, perfunctory kind of chemistry.

I remind myself that I don’t give a shit about them or their relationship. I came up here for one reason. It’s just a bonus that I get to slake my lust for revenge with lips like this, with a woman like this. She’s a far cry from the kind of females I usually visit when I’m on shore.

Moving my hand up her spine, I wind my fingers into her hair and tug her head back and to the side, deepening the kiss. I slide my tongue against hers and I feel the vibrations of her moan. She seems a bit unsure of herself at first, but it doesn’t take her long to respond to me.

She threads her fingers into my hair and holds me to her. She’s liking this, which will just make it that much sweeter for me.

I slide my hand from her hair and drag it down the smooth skin of her bare back. I reach between her and the railing and give her ass a squeeze. I press her hips into mine and give her a little feel of what’s between my legs. I’m gratified when her fingers curl into a fist and tug at my hair.

“You like that?” I whisper against her mouth.

I can feel her shallow breath fanning my face. “Yes.”

“How ’bout this?” I ask, grinding my rigid body into hers.

She does this breathy gasp-moan kind of thing and leans back to look at me. There’s a question in her eyes. For a second I think I’m busted, that she knows I’m not Cash. Or, to her, not Nash.

But she doesn’t ask the question. Whether it’s because she doubts herself or because she doesn’t really want to know, I don’t know. But she keeps quiet and just goes with it. “I like that even more.”

She pulls my head back down to hers and lifts her leg, running her calf along the outside of my thigh, opening herself up to me a little more.

I slide my hand over her hip until I feel the skin of her bare leg. I run my palm up under her dress to the edge of her panties. With one quick jerk, I tear the wispy material. I feel her nails dig into my scalp. It just prods me to continue.

My clear intentions of humiliating her and, therefore, my brother become diluted in the burning lust for the hot little minx in my arms. But the thirst for revenge is too strong. It doesn’t disappear completely. Still, I want to push her to a place she would never go, to a place she’s not entirely comfortable with. Even if she doesn’t remember it and Cash never finds out, I’ll know. And that’s what matters. I’ll know.

I turn my body slightly to the side and move my hand between her legs. I slide a finger inside her. She’s so wet it drips down to my knuckle. Blood rushes to my dick and I groan into her mouth as she moves her hips against my hand.

I pull my slick finger out of her and move my head back just enough that I can see her face. Her eyes are wide, her pupils round with excitement.

“Open,” I say simply, my eyes dropping to her mouth.

Her lips fall open and I slide my finger between them. My stomach clenches into a tight ball when she closes them on my finger and sucks. I’d be willing to bet she’s never done that before. But I could be wrong. So I push her further.

Reclaiming my finger, I reach around behind her and I take the beer bottle into my right hand. Moving it between our bodies, I touch the cool glass to the inside of her leg. Her shiny lips part on a gasp. It fuels me like gasoline.

She’s excited. But how much further will she go?

I drag the bottle up her leg to the heat I can feel coming from between her thighs. I touch the cool rim to her and she shudders visibly. But she doesn’t stop me. She just watches me, panting, her fingers still tightly wound in my hair, her face an inch from mine.

“Do you think I can make you come in front of an audience?”

I hear her breath hitch. She holds it as she listens, her eyes flickering beyond me as though confirming that we aren’t, in fact, alone. My guess is she’s so involved in the moment, she’s forgotten we’re practically in public.

She doesn’t answer. But she doesn’t move, either. So I slide the tip of the bottle inside her. I feel her knees buckle and I wind my other arm around her, holding her up as I move the bottle neck farther into her. Very, very slowly, I pull it out. Her lips tremble.

She closes her eyes and her breathing comes in deep, fast gulps. She’s close. I can almost feel it.

“Look at me. I want to watch you.”

When she opens her eyes, I push the bottle back into her, farther this time. She bites her lip to keep from crying out. I slide it out and back in, rotating my wrist, moving the bottle inside her, bringing her more pleasure with every tiny movement. I pull it out and push it into her again, and again, and again in quick succession. In my hair, I feel her fingers fist and relax, fist and relax until her eyes closed again. I see her mouth fall open and I feel the gush of her breath hit my face. I know she’s coming. Coming for me, the guy she thinks she’s dating. Coming for me, with thousands of strange eyes on us. I press my lips to hers, licking her tongue with mine as she rides the wave, rides the bottle I have shoved between her legs.