Walking on the wild side with a man who is as dangerous as he is sexy, makes for excitement at every turn.
When the shit hits the fan, Beth Rammada has no choice but to get the hell out of Chicago. Her family are sinking fast and she's at risk of being used as bait to hurt her father.
But living on the streets of New York is no walk in the park, until that is, she's taken under the rather dubious wing of Roper Hermanus. He's rough and tough and likes it kinky, or so he says. But should she stick around and help her sexy new friend turn a few tricks? Or should she be running for the hills?
As their journey reveals secrets, Beth falls for the man who's shown her a new side to her erotic self. It seems their demons are compatible, they understand the underworld, extortion and blackmail is their currency.
Until that is the biggest secret of all has to be announced to their families. Will Beth's life ever be the same again? Does she want it to be? And will her mobster lover be there when she needs him most?
“Right girl,” she whispered. “Let’s get this done.” She tightened the towel around her breasts and pulled in a deep breath.
Stepping into the lounge area, she was greeted with the sight of Roper lazing on the sofa. In one hand he held a glass with the same splash of brandy he’d given her and in the other a lit cigarette. He was watching some sport channel on the TV.
He glanced at her. “There’s clean clothes there, I reckon what you were wearing needs burning.”
“Not the jacket.” Hell no. She needed that.
“Nah, that’ll wipe up okay.” He shrugged. “Don’t know if what’s there’ll fit but it’s all I got to offer. Must have belonged to the last tenant, the one with the bath oil.”
“Thank you.” She looked at the small bundle. It appeared to be a pair of black leggings, a dove-gray sweater and a red t-shirt. Black socks sat on the top, they were big, but at least didn’t have holes in them.
“Feel better for your bath?” he asked, leaning forward and stubbing out his smoke in an overflowing ashtray. He sat back heavily and took a big slug of his drink.
“Much.” She smiled and sauntered over to him, sashaying her hips as she went.
He widened his eyes but other than that didn’t react.
“It’s time to make you feel better?” she said, stepping between his legs.
No answer. Instead he let his gaze drift down the towel she was hugging around herself that stopped just beneath her pussy.
She smiled, reached for a cushion and dropped it to the floor. “You’ve been very kind to me.”
“And now I want to be kind to you.” She sank to her knees and undid the top button on his jeans.
He hitched in a breath, his chest swelling beneath his black roll neck.
Beth gave her most seductive smile and fluttered her eyelashes. She’d only had one lover in the past, a guy she knew from college, and he’d told her she was good at sucking cock. Dating a Ramada had come with more baggage than he could handle, though, and one day he’d just stopped speaking to her. She wondered which of her cousins had gotten to him, or if perhaps it had been her father.
But Roper, he was different to a college jock. He was all man, nothing boyish about him. Would she be up to standard?
She dragged at his jeans, he didn’t help, but finally she managed to free his cock.
It was semi-hard; she’d soon changed that.
Giving it a firm stroke—from his black, wiry pubic hair to the deep red, flared head—she felt blood rush to his shaft making him harder. With her other hand she stroked over the base of his flat belly, she’d been right, he was solid muscle. Goodness only knew how many hours he spent working out.
Tipping forward, she swiped her tongue over his slit. His cock twitched and thickened further.
He cleared his throat and she looked up at him with the tip of her tongue on his cock end.
He bit on his bottom lip and a muscle flexed in his jaw. He clenched his fists, pressing one harder into the sofa cushions, the other gripping his glass.
She opened her mouth and sank onto him, allowing his bloated cock to slide over her tongue. He tasted rich and musky, different to her other lover who was all fresh cologne and shower gel. He was bigger too, wide as well as long.
He slotted his fingers into her wet hair.
For a moment she stilled, not wanting him to move the damp strands and reveal her tattoo. But then she looked up at him, mouth full, and saw that he’d rested his head back and his eyes were closed.
She bobbed up and down, setting up a steady pumping rhythm.
He was quiet and still, apart from the tension on her scalp where he held her. It wasn’t what she’d expected from a man like him, but she was happy to take an easy, less frantic pace. As soon as this was over, she’d be able to sleep, and damn it, she was dog-tired. The thought of a warm bed was the biggest turn on of all for her.
His cock grew harder still, and after a few minutes the salty tang of pre-cum coated her palate.
He released a low moan and firmed up the grip on her head.
He was near to coming, she was sure of it. She clasped his root and worked that too, picked up the pace. Her towel slipped, gathering over her knees and around her ass. She didn’t bother to move it, she reckoned if he opened his eyes he’d enjoy the view.
She had him. In his world, at this moment, she was all that existed.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
A shot of cum filled her mouth. He jerked his hips. Another spurt of release.
She swallowed it down, trying not to gag as more and more viscous fluid swamped her throat.
The tension on her hair tightened. He pushed deeper, burying her nose in his pubic hair, and groaned long and low.
She held her breath, closed her eyes. It would be over soon.
Suddenly he released her and relaxed his hips.
She lifted up and pulled in air.
Letting his cock fall from her mouth, she caught it in her palm and gently stroked it—the shaft was still hard, the slit wide and convulsing.
A tremble of need went through her. Damn, that had been hotter than she’d thought it was going to be, the last few seconds before he’d come and she’d him under her control. A big, strong guy who could easily overpower her had been at her mercy. There was a certain sense of female satisfaction about that.
He was breathing fast and staring at her mouth.
She smiled and reached for her towel, drew it up around her torso again.
He balanced his glass on the arm of the chair and tucked himself away, quickly doing up his buttons and straightening his top. He then finished off his brandy and stared at the TV again.
It was as if it had never happened.
Why did that bother her?
Why did that bother her?
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