Dirty Deals by Nicole James Page 0,39

thrusting my hips back and forth until the sensation brings me right to the edge.

“Oh God, Rusty. Take me, quick. I’m going to come.”

He plunges inside me so deep I gasp. He reaches around and fingers my clit, rolling it between his thumb and finger, and then he takes up an intense stroke sweeping up and down until my orgasm hits me, long and intense, and sparkly fireworks dance behind my eyelids. I groan as ecstasy washes over me.

Rusty pounds into me, taking me fast and fierce, gripping my hips as he jackhammers into me, then shouts and goes solid, jerking me against him and holding me trapped as he comes hard.

Lord, this man can fuck.

He collapses on top of me, taking me down to the bed. He’s breathing hard, his breath sawing in and out, his skin slick with sweat. After a moment, he goes to deal with the condom then returns and slips my shoes and stockings and garter off. He crawls in bed and gathers my sweaty body to his.

I don’t want to move, my limbs too heavy. I tuck against him and put my ear to his chest, letting his heartbeat lull me to sleep.

Just as I’m drifting off, he reaches for my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the inside of my wrist. I smile and kiss the warm skin under my cheek.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ashlynn—

Monday afternoon, I’m standing in the office, digging in my purse when the door behind me opens. I look over my shoulder to see Rusty come in.

His hands slip up my hips. I feel his lips on the back of my neck before he breathes in my ear, “Hey, sexy girl.”

I grin. “Hey, sexy man.”

“I’ve got a meeting tonight with the club. You getting ready to leave for the day?”

“Um hmm.” I find my keys and twist in his arms. “Call me later?”

He settles his hands on my waist and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Absolutely.” His eyes drop to the desk. “Did Gully bring in the paperwork on that street glide with the transmission rebuild?”

“Umm, what was the name?”

“Abernathy.”

“Right, here it is.” I grab the yellow copy off the desk.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Drive safe, Hot Rod.”

He moves off through the door to the garage, and I can’t keep my eyes from dropping to his cute ass in those jeans he’s wearing.

I grab my purse, hit the lights, and head out through the front doors. I’m parked on the side of the building today, because I’ve learned it’s shady in the late afternoon.

I beep the locks open and have my hand on the door when I spot something sitting on the roof. I frown, staring at it. It’s a poker chip keychain with the famous Las Vegas sign emblazoned on it—a common enough souvenir sold on the strip. I’ve seen a million of them. But the fact it’s laying on my car raises the hair on the back of my neck.

I glance around the parking lot, my eyes darting everywhere. It’s giving me the creeps. Did they find me? Is this some sick game of cat and mouse? Or am I overreacting? Is it possible Rusty or someone else in the club left it as a gag gift? I grab it and quickly slip in the driver’s seat, fire the car up, and take off. I’m three stoplights down and constantly checking my mirrors before I feel comfortable enough to relax.

I’m being silly, but I can’t stop the intuition that tells me different.

By the time I’ve made the drive out to the house, I’ve relaxed a bit. No one’s been in my rearview mirror for miles. I slow and pull in the drive. I study the land as I roll in, the gravel crunching under my tires. Nothing seems strange.

I park in the garage, reach in my purse, and pull the gun out, taking the safety off, then I climb from the car.

I’m quick as I move to the door, unlock it, and go inside. It’s not till I flip the deadbolt that I can breathe again.

I toss my purse on the kitchen table and set the gun beside it. I’m being ridiculous. No one knows where I’ve gone. I move to the fridge, pull out the bottle of wine I bought the other day, and pour myself a glass.

Then I stroll through the house to the front porch and sit. I take the gun with me, because even if I’m being silly and overreacting, better safe than sorry. I sit