Dirty Chase: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Brooklyn Brotherhood Book 2) (5 page)

I
jerk at the motion
, then moan. I can't help it. He just bit my nipple and
it felt amazing
. The thrill of the pain shoots through me, electrifying every nerve ending in my body, making my hips buck and my entire body sing.

Then he soothes the pain away, a rough suckling I never want to end.

"Yes," I hiss, grabbing his hair. God, it's soft.

Chase pulls back, nuzzles both breasts, his beard as rough and soft and wonderful as I imagined. He doesn't make me remove my arms from him now, so I take advantage and discover I can't stop touching him. I pull at his shirt, glancing down at the tattoos on his arms. I can't get over his damn arm muscles. I mean, I work with teachers every day. Most of us are women, and the few guys who do work in our elementary school—well, let's just say I can out-bench press them.

I run my hands greedily over his biceps, amazed at how hard he is.

That gives me other ideas. I move a hand around to his front, down his chest, down—

Then he kisses my breasts, suckling hard. Hard. Oh God. I can't stop the sweet keening from leaving my mouth. I shift in my seat, suddenly frantic. He won't stop, he can't stop, I can't let him stop. I'm so close—

He pulls back, grinning.

"You're wicked," I gasp.

"Princess, I do believe you could come, just from me sucking on the most gorgeous tits I've ever seen."

"A Princess doesn't call them 'tits,'" I say, which is about as feisty and coherent as I can get right now.

Chase attacks my mouth, tasting like whiskey, like heat, like a real man.

He pulls back, his fist in my hair, his eyes on fire. "And I'm no fucking Prince, sweetheart. I'll call 'em like I see 'em. You've got great tits and a sassy mouth. And I don't know which I like better."

I must be losing my damn mind, because that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me.

But before I can answer, he kisses me, hard, while taking a nipple between each set of fingers and squeezing.
Squeezing
. So hard I gasp, which allows his tongue to invade my mouth. He's kissing all thought, all reason from me, and working my breasts, pulling me tight, then teasing the ends. I've never had anyone do this to me before. If he doesn't stop, I might scream.

If he
does
stop, I'll definitely scream.

All I can do is taste his heat, the alcohol on his tongue making me feel drunk. Or maybe I'm just intoxicated by
him
.

Then Chase squeezes my nipples tight between his fingers, scratching just the edges of my captured breasts with the tips of his nails. I can
feel
every touch connecting right down to my clit, and I'm pulsing where he touches me, and between my legs. I can't think, I can't sit still, I can't—I can't—I throw back my head and fall apart. A spiral ribbon of pleasure shoots from my chest, racing down like a lit fuse to the heat between my thighs. My legs spasm together, and I cry out so loudly I'm sure every patron downstairs can hear me.

"Oh God," I cry out, shaking in Chase's arms. Which are suddenly there, wrapped right around me, holding me up, supporting me.

And then I open my arms to see his face, and he's watching me.
Really
watching me. He's not smiling. He's not mad. But he's drinking me in like—like—

It's so intense I look away.

"One more time for me, Elle," he whispers. His voice is rough. Is it trembling? And then his hand snakes down my pants, and he growls when he finds my wetness.

"Holy fucking hell," Chase says. He leans in, his lips so gentle against mine. I'm still gasping in shock, shaking from nerves—from pleasure.

Then Chase pinches my nipple one more time, swirls his fingers through my soaking-wet curls, and finds my clit. He circles me one, two, three times and before I can try to control it, I fall apart in his arms.

Again.

"You bastard," I moan into his open mouth.

"Truer words," Chase whispers back. Then he kisses me fiercely, clinging to me—or am I clinging to him? I wrap my arms around his shoulders, ready to take him, inside my apartment, my bed,
inside me
.

"Chase," I whisper—

And then suddenly I'm upright, he's pulled my bustier back up and over my heaving chest, and he's back in his chair—and the food is being served. Oh my God, I hadn't even
heard
the waiter come back. I'm so turned on and blissed out I can't focus on the amazing array being spread out before us.

I put my elbows on the table—rude, but I don't care—and hold my head in my hands. I can barely hear the server over my pounding heart, but he's listing off the items in the feast—roast chicken and new potatoes and something about salmon—and then, thank God, he's gone.

I turn back to Chase, ignoring the food. I want to drive him as crazy as he's driving me. I have no doubt he could make me come one more time. Probably within one minute.

But my stubborn pride sticks with me. I decide he may win "the bet," but I'd make sure he came before I did a third time.

Chase opens his mouth, a devious grin on his face. I don't know what he's about to say, but I don't let him get a word in edgewise. I stand up, leap, and throw myself into his arms.

Two can play at this fucking game.

E
lle leaps onto me
, and I can't say it's graceful.

"Holy shit!" I exclaim as she lands on my lap and—
fucking hell
—my rock-hard cock. Oh Jesus. That hurt.

"Oh my God!" Elle exclaims, clasping her hands to her mouth in panic.

I laugh and adjust below her, then move her slightly closer to me.

"Don't worry, babes. You didn't break me."

"Yet," she says. Mouthy little thing. I fucking love it.

"One more time, and you're mine," I say. I shouldn't like saying that so much. She wasn't mine. She never would be mine.

But my body isn't listening to my brain.

I wrap my arms around her slim waist, then settle my hands on her thick ass.

"You better be careful, darlin'. With these things," I snap the waistband of her pants lightly against her back, "All you're making me think of is pussy."

Elle blushes but gets a sassy look in your eye. "So you're a cat person?"

"Not even close." I grab her by the waist, lift her up easily, then lower her onto my dick. I'm so hard I'm surprised I haven't pierced a hole through my damn jeans.

Elle's eyes widen as she feels me beneath her.

I admit, some women have bolted from my bed after they get a look at my cock. It's not
that
big. Okay, maybe it is. But women love it, or seem to for the one night. It's not like me to worry about shit like this; women either get with me or they don't. Well—they normally get with me.

But suddenly I'm worried that Elle's worried.

"Is that the biggest fucking dick I've ever felt inside your pants?" Elle whispers, reaching down between us to give me a squeeze.

"Well, let's just say I'm happy to see you."

"I can't believe you made me come just from playing with my breasts," she moans as I kiss her neck. I'm mad for her, I can't stop tasting her skin. No one's skin
tastes
this fucking good.

I decide I've been working too much and getting laid too little. That must be the reason for my temporary insanity, for why I think she feels so good. Why for one second I think she's the best damn thing I've ever held.

And then she unbuttons my jeans and unzips my fly and hisses under her breath as my naked cock leaps out, begging for her fucking attention.

"No underwear?" Elle cocks an eyebrow.

I lean back and grin. "Why complicate things?"

"Why indeed," Elle murmurs. Then I think I hear her say, "I can't believe I'm doing this." And then she slips off my lap, to her knees, and takes me in her perfect goddamn mouth.

I
think
my eyes are rolling back in my head.

I knew Princess had a mouth on her, but fuck,
what she can do with it
.

Elle glances up at me, and she looks like a sexy fucking angel. For one second I feel guilty. I shouldn't have her on her knees. I shouldn't be fucking with her—literally—in a fancy restaurant. This is the kind of girl I'd take home to Ma, if I even knew who my ma was.

This is the kind of woman I'd keep around for awhile, chained to my bed…

The thought hardens me. Then her perfect, pink little tongue nips out and runs across my slit, and
that
really hardens me.

"Do that again, Princess." My voice comes out rough, like I've been drinking whiskey all night.

Elle blushes a deeper shade of pink, but she obliges. I can't help the moan that escapes my lips.

"Goddamn, Elle," I growl, reaching down for her. I want her in the worst way, but suddenly playing games isn't making me happy. It's making me fucking agitated. She's a jewel, and I should keep her safe, at home.

"You don't need to be on your knees, babes. Not here," I say, pulling her arm to raise her up.

Elle shakes me off. "What's wrong with being on my knees? You wouldn't get on your knees for me? That's a bit sexist, isn't it?"

She goes back to my cock, licking and teasing. Then she kisses it and fuck it—that's it.

I stand, grab both her arms, and haul her up and onto my lap, rocking her ass back onto my cock. She perches on me, then turns; I hold her chin and kiss her so she can't say anything, so I can't say anything. I kiss her, our tongues dancing, until she can't breathe and I can't breathe. My cock's still bare, upright between us like a motherfucking tree. Elle hesitantly reaches down and caresses it, her fingers light and soft against my burning iron.

I want her. Now.

I want her to come. I want to take her back to her place. I want to fuck her to oblivion and beyond.

That's all I need. One night between her sweet legs, and all will be right with the world. Back to normal. Back to reality. I'll get this obsession out of my system.

"Chase," Elle whispers, reaching back to caress my cheek. Just one gentle touch. Despite myself, I lean into her hand. She tries to turn to face me, but I keep her on my lap, her sweet ass rubbing on me.

"Lean back, sweetheart," I urge her, pulling her back so her head rests on my shoulder, cradled in my left arm.

I can't stop myself. I don't know when Joey will be back, I don't know what time it is, I don't know what I'm thinking. I don't know why I'm so fucking unnerved; one gentle touch to my face shouldn't be fucking with my head like this. I should only want to fuck her with my
little
head.

But how long has it been since someone's touched me like that?

The fact that I can't remember is making me shiver inside, so I concentrate on making
her
shiver. That's all I need, that's all I want. To lose myself for five minutes in her scent, her sighs, the sweet cream between her legs.

I suck on her neck, knowing I'll leave a mark there and somehow exulting in that fact. She'll go on with her life, but for a day or two, she won't be able to hide the fact that I was here.

I reach across her chest and pull out those gorgeous breasts, teasing and turning her nipples to bright red berries. Then I slip a hand down her pants.

"Jesus, Princess, I can't wait to taste you," I find myself saying. And it's not a line. It's the damn truth.

I hold her eyes as I explore between her legs, running my fingers over her clit so that she loses her breath for a second. She grabs my arm, my T-shirt, as I swirl and swirl and keep her on edge.

"Lay back," I order. "I've got you."

Her sky-blue eyes glance at me, as if to question me.

"I've got you," I growl, and she complies, nestling into my left arm.

I shift to face her. "Keep your eyes on me when you come, Elle."

I can see a flash of emotion run across her face before she hides it. I don't know why I said that. Most of the time, I finish with a woman on her hands and knees in front of me. I take them like the animals we both want to be, for that one moment, that one orgasm, that one night.

But I hold Elle's gaze, even though it almost fucking hurts. I want to watch her fall apart in my arms. I want to make her come so hard she blushes everywhere, all over her perfect fucking body.

I slide my middle finger inside her. She's hot, wet, tight, and so fucking ready my cock jumps between us like it's demanding entry.

He's a horny, bossy bastard. Just like me.

Elle's eyes half-close as I push into her with my finger, and she grips me, her mouth pressed closed, her nostrils flaring. She looks so fucking hot I almost come right there, simply pressed against her thigh.

I glance down at my hand in her pants. Those fucking cats on her tights, and I'm still hard as a rock.

"How do you want to be," I choke out, her slick, tight heat almost stealing all thoughts from my head. Jesus, I'm just finger-fucking her. If it's this intense, what will happen when I'm balls-deep inside her? "How do you want to be when I first fuck you?"

Elle blushes, then gasps as I bend my finger, giving the perfect come-hither motion to brush against her g-spot.

"Who said—" She inhales sharply as I increase the pressure, gliding over and over that sweet little spot just a couple inches inside her. "Who said I was going to fuck you?"

I grin. "Tell me you'll fuck me and I'll let you come."

Elle bites her lip, though I don't know if it's to stop herself from smiling or stop herself from coming. "Those aren't the rules," she gasps. "You need to make me come three times—"

And then I feel it, the tremors starting inside her. Her sheath is clenching me uncontrollably, and I move faster, faster, wishing it was my cock inside her instead of my hand, but happy to be touching her at all. She's getting wetter and wetter, the sound of me finger-fucking her sloppy and obscene and maybe the best damn thing I've heard all year.

Her legs are pressed tight together, around my fist. Her cheeks and chest are glowing pink, and her lovely eyes begin to close.

"Eyes, Princess," I demand. I want her orgasm, I want her face, I want all her attention on me.

I want her to know who's making her feel so fucking good.

Elle shouts out, once, her face that pure beautiful, pained perfection of the little death. She grabs me so hard I think she might rip my shirt, and she comes and comes and comes, riding my finger, riding my palm.

Gasping my name.

Looking straight at me.

I soothe her as she calms down, lifting her up, kissing her cheeks, her open mouth gasping for breath.

Then I hear steps on the stairwell outside.

"Joey," I bark so he can hear. "Go back downstairs and get our dessert. Now. We'll take it all to go."