Crazy Beautiful Forever (Dirty Twisted Love #3) (6 page)

H
arley eased back
into the swing and spread her thighs, propping her high-heeled sandals into the stirrups, baring the slick place between her legs with a defiant look that made Clay’s cock pulse with its own hungry heartbeat.

“Like this, sir?” she asked, arching her brow.

“Like that.” Holy shit. Yes, like that. Exactly like that. He’d never realized he had any fantasies that involved bondage, but Harley in this leather swing had to be one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. Now to complete the picture. “Raise your arms. There are wrist straps at the top.”

“Yes, sir.” She lifted her arms over her head, curling her fingers around the horizontal bar at the top of the swing as she added in a softer voice, “But you’d better set me free when I tell you to or I’ll kill you while you sleep.”

He smiled. “And here I thought you were good at just about everything,” he murmured as he moved between her thighs.

“I am,” she said. “Except golf and who the fuck wants to be good at golf.”

“Golfers, I imagine.” Clay cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples gently, waiting until she captured her bottom lip between her teeth before he reached up, strapping her wrists into the leather cuffs at the top of the swing. When she was secure, he returned his attention to her nipples, rolling and plucking with a pressure he knew was just a little too gentle for her tastes. “So you’re bad at golf and, so far, you’re not great at this.” He pinched her right nipple tighter, making her breath catch. “I know you have the self-discipline of a monk, Elsa. Why don’t you use some of that to show me what a good girl you can be?”

“Why don’t you go tie your dick in a knot,” she said, arching into his hands. “Or you could shut up and fuck me. That would work too.”

“Tempting. But not just yet.” He stepped back, his hands falling away from her breasts as he took in the view of her spread wide, naked and vulnerable and desperate for him to take her. It was a sight he hadn’t been sure he’d see again, and he was already so turned on it was a little piece of hell resisting the urge to drive inside her.

Fuck, but she was beautiful, so sexy, with her skin luminescent against the black leather. And the swing was positioned perfectly, the base even with his hips. All he would have to do is fit himself to her where her body wept for him and push inside, then use his grip on the swing to rock her up and down his cock until they both fell apart.

But chances were good that this would be his last time with Harley, and he intended to give her something to remember him by. Something to fantasize about on nights when she was alone, to make her slip her fingers between her legs and think of him while she made herself come.

Holding her gaze, he encircled her wrists just below the restraints, massaging her forearms as his hands moved down to her elbows, easing the tension from her muscles. “I have a proposition for you.”

“What’s that?” she asked, chest rising and falling faster as his kneading hands reached her upper arms. “Whatever it is, it’d better not involve the love child of a power tool and a dildo.”

“No, nothing like that. I know better.” He and Harley had never discussed their opinions on whips and chains, but he knew she didn’t get off on being submissive. She loved power too much for that.

But she also loved a good game, a fair fight, and anyone who could hold their own in a battle of wills and not back down.

“My proposition involves my hands on your beautiful body.” His thumbs dug lightly into the smooth skin of her armpits before moving in a circle around the sides of her breasts, drawing a soft murmur of pleasure from her lips. “And my mouth, my tongue, my teeth…” He cupped her breasts, appreciating the way her nipples pebbled tightly in response, but deliberately avoided touching her there again. “And a game of uncle.”

“Uncle,” she breathed as her eyes fluttered closed.

Clay arched a brow. “Giving up already?”

Her lids slitted. “No. Just a little confused. Uncle, is that like mercy?”

“Yes.” His palms slid down her ribs to her waist and then farther down, settling on the inside of her thighs, just below where her leg became something more intimate. “Just like that. If I fuck you before you cry mercy, then I’ll stop asking for a second chance. But if you cry mercy first, you owe me another night.” His thumbs kneaded at her tight muscles, easing closer to her pussy with every stroke. “One more night, just you and me. No danger, no pretend, no lies. Just the two of us and me making you come again and again until you realize you can’t ever let me go.”

Harley’s breath rushed out. “You’re on, Lars. But be warned, I don’t intend to lose.”

“Good.” He used his thumbs to spread her wide, giving him an intimate view of every inch of her sweet pussy. “It wouldn’t be any fun if you let me win.”

“Arrogance is an ugly trait in a man,” she said in an icy tone. But the tongue slipping out to dampen her lips and the trembling of her thighs as he knelt between her legs made it clear she wasn’t as above it all as she would have him believe.

“Confidence. Not arrogance.” He looked up, holding her gaze as he pulled the swing closer, bringing his lips inches from her pussy, close enough for his breath to warm her skin, but not close enough to grant any relief. “I’m confident you are going to beg me to fuck you. And when you do, I’m going to give it to you. I’m going to make you come screaming my name.” He winked. “Just remember to use the right one.”

Before she could respond, he turned his head, capturing her thigh between his teeth and biting down as his thumb slipped into her pussy, driving deep.

“No fair, I—” Her words ended in a moan as he circled his thumb, pressing against her swollen inner walls, teasing over her g-spot as he summoned more slickness from her body.

He waited until her breath was coming in swift pants and her hips were bucking into his hand before he brought his mouth to the top of her, lips parting over her clit. He suckled her with slow, deep pulls as his thumb continued to move, sending her spiraling within a matter of seconds.

“Yes, Lars,” she groaned, gasping as she lifted into his mouth. “God, yes. I thought you were going to make me suffer first.”

Sliding his thumb from between her legs, he brought his tongue to her entrance, lapping away the salty evidence of her release, smiling as she groaned again.

He had every intention of making her suffer, but he had wanted to give her pleasure first. No, he hadn’t wanted it; he’d
needed
it. He needed her to know that he loved pleasuring her first and tormenting her second.

God help him, but he did love torturing her, just a little, just for the thrill of seeing how far they could push each other before one of them broke.

He kissed his way up her body, lingering to trace the soft swell of the underside of her breast with his tongue before continuing up the column of her throat. He nipped at her neck, drawing his teeth lightly across her skin before he whispered in her ear, “Are you ready to beg yet?”

“No.” She shivered as he ran his knuckles lightly over the skin between her breasts. “I told you, I don’t intend to lose. You might as well put yourself out of your misery.”

“And what misery is that?” He kissed the place behind her ear that always made her breath rush out. This time was no exception, a fact that made him smile again though he knew exactly what misery she was talking about.

“Your cock is practically purple.”

“So you’ve been looking at my cock?” he asked, continuing to kiss her neck as his hands returned to her breasts, cupping and squeezing.

“It’s hard to miss.” Her voice caught as he captured her nipples lightly between his fingers, applying the barest pressure, knowing she would be even more sensitive there now that she’d already come. “You look like you’re going to explode and not in the good way.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, ignoring the heavy, painful pulse in his balls.

“If my hands were free I could touch you,” she purred, squirming as he intensified his efforts at her nipples, plucking and teasing at her aroused flesh. “I could jerk you off, let you come on my tits.”

“I don’t want to come on your tits,” he said, kissing her shoulder before biting her there, too. He pulled back far enough to catch her hooded gaze. “I want to come inside you, deep and hard while you beg me not to pull out.”

“This is starting to sound like a fetish,” she said, teeth digging into her lip as his tongue flicked across her nipple. “You have a thing for knocking women up?”

“I never thought I did before. But that night in Prague, and now…”

He wet his lips, the thought of shooting between her thighs making pre-come leak from the tip of his already suffering dick. “Honestly, I’m dying to fuck you bare. I want you to come on my cock, milk me dry while I’m buried balls deep in your pussy.”

He circled one nipple with his tongue as he rolled the other between his fingers, his body howling with the need to get inside of her, but he forced himself to wait. Her breath was coming fast and her eyes were glazed.

It wouldn’t be long now. She was going to beg him and it would be the sweetest thing he’d ever heard.

“It would be so fucking hot to know I might be getting you pregnant again,” he continued, pausing to suckle her nipple, drawing a soft, strangled sound from low in her throat. “But this time, I’d get to stick around and watch your belly grow and your breasts swell. I’d get to strip you bare at night, see the evidence of the life we’d made growing inside of you, and make love to you from behind, slow and deep.”

“Stop,” she whispered as he transferred his attention to the inside of her thighs, kneading her trembling flesh as he urged her legs farther apart.

“You don’t want me to stop. This turns you on, I can tell.” He stood, continuing to stroke her thigh with one hand as he brought the other to his cock. “The thought of me taking you without protection, coming with the head of my cock deep inside you while your body pulses around me.”

He wrapped his fingers around the base of his shaft, giving the throbbing organ a hard squeeze before he began to pump himself slowly up and down, not missing the way Harley’s gaze dropped to watch him. The hunger in her eyes made it even harder to wait. “You want me bare. You want it so bad you’re getting ready to beg me for it.”

“No, I’m not.” But her hips shifted restlessly and when he brought his thumb to circle her clit her eyes rolled back and a pained sound escaped her throat.

“Yes, you are.” He thumbed her harder, backing off just as she began to lift into his hand.

“Bastard,” she cursed, her eyes squeezing closed.

“I’m not a bastard, all you have to do is beg.” He traced the pulsing head of his cock down the inside of her thigh. He was so close to losing control his entire body felt feverish, wild, but he needed her surrender more than he needed relief. He needed the promise of another night waiting for them when Jasper was safe and this hell was behind them more than he needed anything. “Beg me and I’m inside of you, baby. Deep and hard, just the way you like it.”

He captured her nipple again, pinching lightly as the head of his cock teased her clit with the barest pressure. “Or we can do this for a little longer until your soul hurts because you need to be fucked so bad.”

“Please.” She whimpered, her fingers spreading wide before clenching into fists above her head. “Please, please, please.”

“Please what?” He guided his cock to her dripping opening, letting her feel him ready to go, but not thrusting inside. “Say the words, baby. Say the words and there’s no more pain. Only pleasure and you coming on my cock, coming so hard you won’t remember anything but how good I make you feel.”

“Yes,” she finally sobbed. “Please. I’m begging. Mercy. Please!”

With a dizzying rush of victory and relief, Clay entered her with one savage thrust, tugging the swing forward to meet him until he was buried to the hilt, his balls pulsing between the cheeks of her ass.

Holding still, he squeezed his eyes closed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold on if he looked down at her right now. Her pussy was molten hot and so swollen she felt like a glove squeezing him tight. He could come just from feeling her inner walls pulsing around his cock, hearing her moaning softly as she writhed against him, seeking the friction she needed to come.

“Please, oh please,” she begged. “More. I need you so much.”

And he needed her, too, more than air, more than water, more than anything in the world. As he pulled out and rammed back inside her, the swing making each endless thrust a smooth glide into paradise, Clay forgot that they were in a room full of people. He forgot the game, the mission, and the power play and lost himself in the woman he loved.

He was seconds from release, too far gone to think of anything but reaching the edge and taking Harley over with him when a roar of outrage sounded from the entrance to the room.

A moment later, a masculine voice shouted, “That’s my wife, you worthless sack of shit!”

Clay turned over his shoulder in time to see a man with a beard trailing all the way down to his rounded beer belly launching himself at a naked man sprawled on top of the woman bound to the nipple stimulation table.

Not long after, the guard stationed at the base of the stairs rushed across the room to intervene.

Cursing the timing—and the case of blue balls that were no doubt going to haunt him for the next few hours—Clay reached for the close of Harley’s restraints, freeing her wrists before he whispered urgently in her ear, “Now. We go now!”

C
lay pulled
out and turned to reach for his clothes, setting every nerve ending in Harley’s body to screaming in protest. She was so turned on, so hot, and so close to coming again that her pussy contracted violently in response to the sudden emptiness between her legs.

But her body wasn’t calling the shots.

The guard was fighting to pull a bearded man off of the couple fucking on the medieval torture device and every eye in the room was glued to the unfolding drama. This might be her and Clay’s only chance to slip up the stairs. They couldn’t afford to waste a second.

Harley eased out of the swing, willing her wobbly legs to steady as she stepped into her panties and pulled her dress over her head. She was still trembling when Clay took her hand and pulled her across the room, but she managed to make it up the long, curving flight of stairs without her knees giving out.

At the top of the stairs, Clay opened a slim wooden door, sticking his head out to survey what awaited them before nodding that the coast was clear. As Harley followed him out into a room where small tables covered in lace tablecloths sat overlooking the rose garden, she stumbled over the edge of a thick, Persian rug, but Clay caught her before she could fall.

“You okay?” He pinned her to him with one strong arm around her waist, nearly lifting her off her feet as he closed the door quietly behind them.

“Y-yes,” she stammered, steadying herself with her hands on his shoulders.

“Just hold on.” His eyes narrowed as his hand slipped down to squeeze her ass through her dress. “We’re going to find the perfect place, Elsa, and I’m going to fuck you so hard I’ll have to carry you back downstairs.”

He crushed his lips to hers and Harley sagged against him without question, knowing he wouldn’t be playacting for no reason. She clung to him, returning the brutal kiss as he wedged his thigh between her legs, using his grip on her ass to urge her to rock against him.

“That’s right, baby,” he mumbled against her lips. “You feel how hard I am? I can’t wait to be inside you again.”

Harley swallowed the moan rising in her throat and fought the urgency twisting low in her body. She was so over stimulated at this point that she barely heard the soft footsteps passing them by and moving away down an unseen hallway.

But when she did, her heart skipped a beat and her ears strained for signs that there were other people close by. She didn’t hear anything but when Clay ended the kiss, she was careful to keep her voice to a whisper as she asked, “Who was it? Do you think they’re going to tell someone we’re up here?”

“A maid, it looked like,” Clay said, scanning the space around them over her head. “It didn’t seem like she was in a hurry to go tell tales. But just in case, we should find somewhere else to be.”

“Let’s start on the third floor,” Harley said, breath still coming fast from a heady mixture of arousal and fear of discovery. “It makes sense that Jasper would be kept as far from the party as possible.”

“There’s a staircase next to the greenhouse,” Clay said, taking her hand again. “I saw it on the house plans. It leads to the original living room and bedrooms from the 1800s. There’s a separate staircase for the new additions, but I think you’re right. Marlowe would want to keep Jasper away from any rooms where he might be spotted by people on the lawn.”

Harley followed him past the tables and into an airy space filled with antique couches and chairs. She was dying to ask when he’d looked at the house plans and why she hadn’t been granted similar access, but she couldn’t afford to waste time arguing. She would have to chalk this up as yet another reason she couldn’t trust Clay and simply be glad one of them had knowledge of the house’s layout.

The staircase turned out to be fairly wide for a nineteenth century home, with mahogany walls lined with moody, landscape paintings that probably cost more than the house she and Jasper had lived in on Ko Tao. The combined effect of the broody paintings and the roomy stairs made her feel exposed, vulnerable, even more so than she had in that swing, with her body bound and at Clay’s mercy.

In the swing, she’d known that pleasure awaited her at the end of Clay’s erotic torture. Here, every step could be bringing her closer to a run in with Marlowe and swift, certain death. Her makeup and hair wouldn’t fool him. He’d take one look at her terrified expression and know her identity in a heartbeat.

And then he would kill her and Clay and neither of them would ever see Jasper again.

“Come here.” On the next landing, Clay spun her into his arms, cupping her breast through her dress as he kissed her neck. “I don’t know if I can wait. I want you so much. I could fuck you right here.”

Harley whimpered softly as he rolled her nipple in circles through the thin fabric of the dress, even as her senses went on high alert. But this time, she heard no footsteps, felt no eyes watching them as Clay transferred his attentions to her other nipple, making her squirm in the circle of his arms.

She was about to ask him what was going on when he answered her unspoken question—

“There could be cameras,” he said as he pressed another kiss to her throat. “Just in case, I figure it’s best to make it clear to anyone watching why we’re snooping around. We’re just two horny partygoers looking for a room.”

“Okay,” Harley whispered, nodding as he pulled away. “Good idea, but if you want me to be able to hold a clear thought in my head you could stand to be a little less convincing.”

Clay’s eyes darkened and his hand drifted down to squeeze her ass hard enough to make her gasp. “We’re getting one of those swings. When you forgive me and agree to move into my house, it’s the first purchase we’re making for the bedroom.”

Before she could remind him that nothing like that was ever going to happen—or remind herself that he wasn’t serious, just trying to manipulate her again—he’d reclaimed her hand and started back up the stairs. They passed the second floor, where a cozy lounge filled with leather chairs pulled up before a stone fireplace gave off a faint hint of cigar smoke, and continued up to the third floor.

As they neared the top of the stairs, Clay slowed again, leaning against the wall and pulling her against him. “Kiss me, but don’t make any noise,” he whispered against her lips. “I think I hear voices.”

Harley obeyed without question, kissing him as she listened carefully, seeking signs of life from the floor above them. After a moment, she heard the faint drone of what sounded like two men casually shooting the shit. But considering she didn’t speak the language—it sounded like German—she had no idea what they were discussing. It could be who they were going to gang rape after sunset for all she knew. She was dependent upon Clay to make the call.

“Okay,” he said, his lips so close they brushed hers as he spoke. “Follow me, don’t speak, and try to look like you’re drunk and dying to get fucked.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice. She was desperate to find out where Jasper was being held, but she was also scared.

What if one of the men up there recognized her? They would surely be armed and she and Clay had come in without any weapons except a collection of syringes and sedatives they’d figured they could sneak past a possible bag check by claiming that “Elsa” was diabetic. If they were made, they would be killed or captured and all hope of getting Jasper out alive would be lost.

The thought sent a cold wave of terror washing through her, but she didn’t have the chance to ask Clay to give her a moment to pull herself together. He was already drawing her up the last few steps and aiming them both toward the murmuring voices.

Voices that stopped murmuring as Clay called out something she couldn’t understand in slurred German.

Harley kept her gaze on Clay and her breath coming fast, praying the sight of her heaving breasts, just barely contained by the thin fabric of her dress, would help distract the two men rising from chairs outside a door at the end of the hall. She was too busy keeping her eyes on Clay and trying to look horny to get a clear look at the security detail, but from what she could see of them they didn’t look terribly familiar.

Or too terribly dangerous.

They were both on the shorter side, with dark hair and gently rounded bellies that gave testament to a softer life than that enjoyed by Marlowe’s top tier thugs. Still, they were obviously suspicious—she didn’t need to understand German to interpret a tight, cautious tone or the sideways glances the guard with the thinning hairline shot his partner’s way.

But after a few more slurred comments from Clay, followed by a pleading whisper, Balding relaxed and his partner grunted in understanding. The three men chatted for another minute or two—paying about as much attention to Harley as the landscape paintings hanging on the walls—and by the time Clay pulled her into his arms, they were all chuckling like old friends.

Harley giggled drunkenly, faking a hiccup as Clay squeezed her ass again and the guards’ chuckling took on a more suggestive lilt. Clay murmured his thanks—she knew enough German to understand
tausend dank
—and a second later she found herself whisked away to a room at the far end of the hall.

She waited until Clay closed the door behind them before she demanded in a soft voice—

“What did they say? Are they guarding someone in that room? Is it Jasper?”

“I said you wanted to get fucked in a billionaire’s house and I needed to humor you because you were such a cock tease,” he said, grabbing her elbow and pulling her across the carpet to the windows on the opposite side of the small bedroom. “I offered to pay them off if they’d turn a blind eye for a few minutes, but they didn’t want the money. They said this weekend was all about helping a brother get his dick serviced.”

“How generous of them,” she said, glaring over her shoulder at the closed door.
Men.

“But they told me to use a room at this end of the hall,” he said, his eyes glittering. “Just in case you were a screamer. They said they had a guest at the other end who’s too young for the party.”

Harley’s hand flew to cover her mouth, her heart jerking hard in her chest. “Do you think it’s him?”

The thought of Jasper on the same floor, just a few dozen steps away, made her want to run out into the hall right now, but she couldn’t. She and Clay would have to wait, and find a way to get rid of the guards.

“I’d say the chances are pretty damned good.” Clay rubbed his chin, the rasping sound making her guess that it wouldn’t be long before sunset. If Clay was getting whiskery, it had to be at least eight o’clock. As masculine as he was, he was a blond and didn’t tend to get scruff until after dinnertime. “Marlowe doesn’t have any children and the people who come to this party know better than to bring a kid along.”

“So how do we get him out?” she asked, chewing on the pad of her thumb. “Drug the guards?”

Clay smiled. “That’s what I was thinking, but I don’t think we’ll need the syringes. When we leave, I’ll thank them profusely, make it clear they made my weekend, my fucking life, whatever.” He waved an idle hand through the air. “So then, when I come back in a few hours with some drinks, they won’t think anything of it.”

Harley bounced on her toes, catching his excitement. “You’ll just be a man thanking his brothers for helping him get his rocks off.”

“Exactly.” Clay nodded. “It will take a little longer for the sedative to work if it’s ingested, but it’s worth it to avoid a struggle. Sound carries between floors in old houses like this. The quieter we can be, the better our chances of getting out without anyone noticing.”

Harley’s breath rushed out. “You really think it will work?”

Clay wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “I do. They drink, pass out a few minutes later, and we’re in. If things go as smoothly as they did on the way up here, we’ll be clear of the house in five minutes. Ten at the most.”

“But what if there are cameras?” Harley’s brows drew together. She knew she should step back—there was no one here to put on a show for—but it felt too good to lean on Clay to pull away. “They might have let two horny partygoers go wandering around, but they’re not going to let us walk out of here with Jasper.”

“I’ve got an idea about that, too,” Clay said, bending to rest his forehead against hers. “I’ll fill you in as soon as we get back to the tent.”

“Okay.” She fought the urge to tip her head back and find his lips with hers. Hugging was one thing, kissing him while they were alone would be something else entirely. “So how long does drunk Lars take to get his rocks off?”

“Sadly, not long,” Clay said with a wry smile. “Drunk Lars is shitty in bed. In fact I think we’ve probably already been in here long enough to accomplish his idea of foreplay.”

“Which involves what?” she asked as he moved away toward the bed. “Getting my clothes off?”

“Just your panties.” Clay grinned as he spread his arms wide, capturing one bedpost in each hand as he wedged his knee against the baseboard. “Feel free to make some noise if you want. I’ll leave it up to you to decide if Lars is scratching Elsa’s itch.”

Clay pushed forward, sending the headboard butting against the wall. He moved slowly at first but quickly picked up speed. By the time he began moaning in German and calling out Elsa’s name, the bed was hitting the plaster with a frantic
thump-thump-thump-thump
that made Harley grin in spite of herself. She joined in, making a few breathy, high pitched keening sounds as Clay thrust forward one last time and let out a tremendous groan.

Harley had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “You sound like a dying cow,” she hissed.

Clay winked as his groan ended in a triumphant shout of, “
Ich liebe deine Muschi.”

 Harley lifted a brow.

“I love your pussy,” Clay translated softly, crossing to stand beside her. “Which is true, of course. In any language.”

Harley’s smile fell away, but before she could tell Clay this had to stop—the dirty talk and the sweet talk and his kinky fantasies about getting her knocked up—he put a finger to her lips.

“Don’t,” he whispered, the humor fading from his eyes. “Not yet. Wait to tell me how much you hate me until we get back to the tent. Until then we’re Lars and Elsa and we just got finished making your fantasies come true.”