Home > Dirty Scoundrel (Roughneck Billionaires #2)(17)

Dirty Scoundrel (Roughneck Billionaires #2)(17)
Author: Jessica Clare

She looks all surprised, her mouth open in a hint of shock, and I want to kiss it right off her face. What, did she not think I was going to just change my mind? Say, “You called my bluff. I don’t want ya in my bed”?

Truth of the matter is, I want her now more than ever before. So I wait patiently, holding the door open for her. Waiting for her to hold up her end of the bargain.

Natalie swallows hard and then sweeps past me, her chin held high. She clutches her purse under her arm like a football, and her back is stiff. I can see color in her cheeks, and it’s clear she’s ruffled. That’s all right. She’ll get comfortable when I get my hand between her thighs.

I follow her inside and toss the keycard down, along with my wallet, on the nearest table. “Make yourself at home.”

She looks around the room—a pretty fancy place, if I do admit—and then sits elegantly on a chair near a small round table. She puts her purse down.

I immediately go to pick it up.

“What are you doing?” she asks, reaching for it.

“I want your attention on me, not on your phone,” I tell her brusquely.

“Oh.” She relaxes and sits back in the chair, biting her lip. “I’m sorry about that in the limo. I was lost in thought, and distracted by the nurses attending my father.”

Least she admits it. I feel a little more relaxed at that. “You want a drink from the minibar?”

Her smile is faint. “No, thank you.”

I noticed she wasn’t drinking anything but tea at dinner. I had a beer, but just one. “So you don’t wanna be drunk for this?” I tease.

She glances down at her hands in her lap. “I’d rather not, I think.”

“I’d rather you were sober, too. I’d feel kinda shitty if you were drunk.”

“So it’s not okay for me to be drunk, but it’s okay for you to force me into this by paying me?” She looks up at me, her eyes narrowed with curiosity.

Got me there. I scratch at my head, feelin’ a little foolish. “Kinda? In my head it makes sense, at least.”

“None of this makes sense to me,” she admits. “I’m not sure why you want me, of all people. And why now.”

I could explain myself. But I’m not sure I feel like it. She just needs to know that I want her and that I’ll take care of her needs to ensure that she takes care of mine. “It ain’t important,” I say, and then sit down on the edge of the bed and pat the seat next to me.

Her eyes go wide and she gives me a nervous look. Kinda makes me smile to myself. She’s actin’ like a shocked virgin despite the fact that she’s twenty-five. I don’t expect she waited on me, so the ploy ain’t necessary. “You on birth control?”

“Of course not,” Nat tells me, frowning. “There’s never been a need.”

I go still. “This . . . ain’t your first time, is it?”

Her back goes stiff as she sits next to me, all prim and proper. “How many times do you think I should have done this, then?” She looks mighty uncomfortable.

I snort, because I mostly want her to get that pinched, worried look off her face. “More’n me.”

Natalie’s brows go down and she gives me a curious look. “How many times have you done it?”

Done it. Heh. Like we’re still two teenagers discussin’ the forbidden. “Haven’t,” I admit. “Waited for you.” I gaze at her pretty face, so lovely she makes my heart ache. “Then I waited to get over you.”

Her full lips part and her eyes grow shiny. “Oh, Clay,” she sighs. “Sometimes you say the sweetest things . . . and then sometimes I want to punch you right in the face.”

That just makes me grin. It sparks a memory of long ago, when I frustrated her back on a date and she threatened something very similar. “You still didn’t answer my question,” I point out. “You a virgin?”

Her cheeks are red but she nods, slowly.

Fierce pleasure ricochets through me. Holy fuck. She waited for me? Or . . . she waited because of something. Don’t care. All I know is that I’m going to be Natalie’s first anyhow. Doesn’t matter that it took us seven years to get here.

She’s mine. All mine.

With a fierce growl, I pull her against me and capture her mouth. I feel her stiffen in surprise, but then she melts against me, her hands going to my waist and resting there as I kiss her. She’s mine, and she’s gonna stay mine, I decide. I love the taste of her, and the way she feels against me.

Even so, I can tell she’s holding back—it’s not like the kiss we had in the car. She’s hesitant, and when her tongue flicks against mine, I can almost taste the worry rushing through her. I press a gentle kiss on her parted lips and then nip at her mouth. “You okay?”

Her nose brushes against mine as she ducks her head. “I’m nervous.”

I feel a ridiculously stupid surge of pride at that. She’s nervous ’cause it’s her first time. I’m going to get her first time. “Would it make you feel better if I said I was nervous, too?” I ain’t, but I’ll say whatever to make her feel better.

She chuckles and her hand smacks lightly against my side. “I’d rather you be confident so we do things well.”

“Oh, I’m confident,” I tell her in a husky voice. I let my thumb graze over her full lower lip, still wet from my kiss. “I’m confident that I’m gonna kiss the hell out of you, and then I’m going to strip this sexy dress off your even-more-sexy body. I’m gonna dip my fingers between your thighs and play with your pussy, and then—”

Her fingers push against my lips. “Clay,” she says softly, embarrassed. “You’re trying to make me blush, aren’t you?”

Actually, I’m tryin’ to turn her on. It’s clear that when she’s nervous, though, she can’t think beyond that nervousness. I remember that back when we were younger, too. Natalie took some coaxin’ to relax. When she got wound up, she was wound up tighter’n anyone I’d ever met before. Her family was always stressin’ her out when she was a teenager. Her dad had unreasonable expectations and her stepmom was a beast. I thought it might have gotten better since she’d moved back in with her daddy and her stepmom was gone, but some things don’t change, I guess.

That’s all right. I remember how to deal with Uptight Natalie. I remember she liked kissin’. A lot. And that it felt really good to kiss the hell out of her for what felt like hours on end.

I’m more’n happy to do that again right now.

I cup her jaw and tilt her mouth toward mine again. This time, I brush my lips gently over hers. Once. Twice. Then again and again. Light, feathery little kisses to distract her and make her keep guessin’ what I’m gonna do with my mouth next. Somewhere in the steady stream of light, unobtrusive kisses, she relaxes. Her body leans into mine a bit more and her lips move against mine with every caress. She makes a soft little sound in her throat when my tongue grazes over the seam of her lips, and I know she’s mine. She ain’t thinkin’ about anything but my mouth now.

Good. I’m claimin’ her tonight. I’ve waited seven years to make her mine, and I don’t want to wait another moment longer.

Our kisses grow hungrier, deeper. My tongue brushes against hers, and when she responds eagerly, I intensify the kiss. Over and over, I stroke my tongue, fucking her mouth like I want to fuck her cunt. Her hands curl against my shirt and she makes a little whimper with every drag of my tongue against hers. I don’t let up, though. I just keep kissin’ her with all the intensity I’m feeling at this moment. There’s nothing I want more than those little sounds coming from her throat. I live for that. I live for the sweep of her tongue against mine.

When I finally break away from kissing her, she looks dazed. The lower half of her face is bright red from where my beard has rubbed against her face, and I feel a twinge of guilt at the sight. Kissing me is tearin’ up her skin. She doesn’t look upset, though. She looks soft and fuckable and like she wants more. Makes me growl low in my throat, and I can’t resist pressing another kiss to her parted lips.

I’m the first one to touch this virgin territory. She’s mine. It just fuels my possessiveness. Natalie was born to be mine, I realize. I’m never lettin’ her go. Not now, not ever.

“I’m gonna take this dress off you now, Nat,” I whisper between kisses, and slip a finger under one spaghetti strap. “Or would you rather I get naked first?”

Her hands move to my shoulders. She curls her fingers against my shirt again, and then gives me a breathless shake of her head. “I don’t know.”

“How about I take my shirt off first, then?” I press a tiny kiss on the tip of her nose, then the corner of her mouth. I keep kissin’ while she nods, distracted. Goddamn, she’s pretty. I can’t wait to get every inch of her naked. My cock aches fiercely at the thought.

“Okay,” she whispers, her mouth impossibly close to mine.

It tears me up to have to pull my hands off of her. I want them all over her—caressin’ those rounded, delicious breasts of hers, the ample ass that I’ve been eyein’ all day, her soft, pale legs with the most delicate ankles. All of her is appealin’. Ain’t none of it I’d kick out of bed for eatin’ crackers. I just hope she finds me half as appealing. I run a hand down my beard, noticing her flushed skin again. Nothin’ to be done about that now, though, and she hasn’t complained. I grab the front of my shirt and rip the buttons apart in a quick motion, not caring that the fabric makes a ripping sound. It’s just a shirt. I got plenty more of those. I toss it on the floor and wait for her to react.

Just like she’s changed since high school, I have, too. I’m a lot hairier, I gotta admit. Back then, I had a lean chest without much of a tan. Now I’ve got hair all over my pectorals and I’m burnt a dark tan by the sun. My belly ain’t fat at least, but I do wonder what she’s gonna think of me.

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