Dirty Past (14 page)

Tate lets me go for a second before grabbing my hand. His fingers slip through mine and he tugs me behind him, dropping back a step when he realizes I’m not going to walk as fast as he is. Ajax holds the elevator doors open, and I glance around. Toward the elevator. Toward the stairwell doors.

Tate all but drags me into the elevator, and when Ajax shuts the door and pushes the button for our floor, Tate cups my jaw with his finger and thumb.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Don’t look around like that.”

“I—I’m scared,” I whisper, staring at his knees.

He forces my head back and my eyes to meet his. “I protect what’s mine, Els. And that’s you.”

Silently, I inhale, staring into his eyes, his fingers warming mine.

“And if you’re his,” Ajax says, his hand flattening against the side of the elevator door, “then I protect you twice as much.”

I swallow, my eyes on the floor as we reach my door. “I locked my key inside,” I whisper with a gasp.

“Got it.” Tate pulls the spare from his back pocket and slides it into the slot. The door clicks and opens, and Ajax walks in ahead of us, his hand behind him to stop us. He only lets us in once he’s checked every room and made sure the suite is empty.

“Ella, get your things,” he says to me. “And your laptop?”

“On the floor, in front of the sofa.” I wave toward it.

“Password?”

I laugh quietly. “I wasn’t allowed to lock the bathroom door when I peed. What makes you think I had a password on my laptop?”

His jaw tightens. “Email?”

“The password is ‘password,’ same as all my others.” I duck through into the bedroom and shove all my things into the suitcase.

This morning my biggest concern was avoiding Tate. Now it’s avoiding my ex, and the fact I can’t avoid Tate. At all. Ever.

After gathering my things from the bathroom, I wheel my case through to the main area, where both Ajax and Tate are sitting in front of my laptop.

Oh no.

“Done.” My voice breaks through the silence.

Tate stands, his muscles tense, and only then does he look at me. Turquoise eyes, blazing, fuming, glaring. But not at me. Softness looks at me. The anger illuminates that, though, and he stalks toward me and closes his hand over mine on the suitcase handle.

“Let’s go.”

He snatches it and opens my door. I glance back at Ajax, and he nods, closing the computer and folding it under his arm.

I follow Tate out of the room and down the hall under the security guard’s watchful eye. Tate locks the door behind us, even putting the bolt on, and wheels my case into his room. I eye the movement cautiously, because, um . . .

“Don’t you have a spare bed?”

He comes back out and looks at me, his jaw ticking angrily. He moves, quickly, across the room. Grasps me into his arms. Dips his head to mine. Seals his mouth over mine.

“I don’t need one,” he murmurs to my lips. “You’re stayin’ nowhere other than right the fuck next to me.”

“I don’t. Um.”

“No, darlin’, it ain’t a good idea, but it’s better than the fuckin’ alternative.” He brushes his thumb over my cheek, and lowers his mouth to mine.

Unable to fight him, even with fear flowing through my body, I grasp his shirt lightly and lean up into him.

Tate slides one of his hands to my hip and around to my butt, where it lingers, holding me gently. “Ella,” he whispers. “Don’t be afraid, darlin’. I don’t want you to think of a man’s touch and fear his. I want you to think of a man’s touch and crave mine.”

Tate

She takes a deep breath and fists my shirt tighter. “Then don’t be gentle,” she breathes. “Gentle won’t wash him away.”

My fingers curl around the back of her neck. “Are you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?”

Her lips part, but she nods her head. “Replace him with you. Right now.”

She has no fucking idea—I’ll replace him, all right. I’ll replace every damn inch of him in her head, and I’ll get so under her skin she’ll forget he ever put bruises there.

I bring her face close to mine, my cock already throbbing, and hover my mouth above hers. “Darlin’, by the time I’m done with you, I swear to fuckin’ God there’ll be no other guy under your skin but me.”

“I’m counting on it.”

I crush my lips to hers. She responds in kind, letting go of my shirt to circle her hands around the back of my neck. She’s so fucking soft beneath me. Every touch of hers is like the kiss of a feather, and every single one is more fucking addictive than the last.

She leans toward the sofa, but I tug her toward the bedroom. “Bed,” I murmur against her jaw, kissing a trail across her silky skin. “Peasants get quickied on the sofa. Queens get fucked on a bed.”

She laughs quietly, but I silence it with my mouth, pushing her down beneath me. She falls easily, her fingers teasing my hair, her legs bending up.

Ella grabs the collar of my shirt and gathers it in her fingers in a clear plea. I guide her hands to the hem and she eases it up, her hands brushing my skin beneath it as she pulls it over my head. I do the same to hers, exposing her gorgeous tits wrapped in bright pink lace.

Her fingers tangle in my hair when I cup her breasts over her bra. Shit. Shit, shit, shit—they’re more fucking perfect than I imagined them. When I unclasp her bra and let them free, they’re round and perfect.

I swirl my tongue down her neck and across the tops of her tits. I cup one fully and bring her nipple to my mouth. She gasps, arching her back, and I let my tongue tease the pebbled tip again and again until a small moan falls from her lips.

Then I move and do the exact same thing to the other one.

She tugs on my hair hard, and I smile against her skin. Her legs are parting beneath me, inviting me in. I curl my fingers around the waistband of her shorts and tug hard, taking her panties with them.

Ella looks at me, her eyes wide and shining with arousal, her lips full, and her cheeks blooming with red. Everything about her screams “Fuck me.” Every. Single. Fucking. Thing.

I grasp her toned thighs in my hands, part them, and kiss the inside of one. Her fingers close around mine, but I kiss up her leg. Her heavy breathing shoots right through me to my cock. Her heavy, desire-filled breathing.

No fear. Just desire.

For me.

I kiss a long, lazy trail up her other leg, and just before I reach her wet, swollen pussy, she whispers, “This is kind of gentle.”

I respond by closing my mouth over her pussy and rubbing her clit with my tongue violently.

She squeaks a “Take it back,” and pushes her hips into me. I run my tongue all over her, trailing circles around her sensitive clit, tracing long, pressured lines from her opening to the hard ball of nerves.

She grabs at my hands, firmly on her thighs, at my head, buried beneath her legs, at my arms, tensed and ready to hold her hands down so I can fuck her as hard as she wants me to.

“Tate,” she moans.

It’s too much. I need her too badly.

I yank my jeans and boxers down and reach for a condom from the nightstand. I roll it on quickly to the sound of her labored breathing and lean over her.

Her fingers slide through mine and I hold her hands on either side of her head. She looks up with her dark, glossy eyes.

“No gentle,” she breathes.

“No gentle,” I agree, my cock at the opening to her pussy. I slide inside her easily, her tight wetness making me groan, hugging me so fucking incredibly. “Ella.”

She opens her eyes.

“I will fuck you so hard you won’t breathe. I will bury myself so deeply inside you you’ll feel me fuckin’ everywhere, and when you come, it’ll be so fuckin’ hard you won’t be able to make a sound.”

She nods, lips parted, and I ease out of her. This time, when I enter her, it’s harsher and quicker than before. She gasps with my thrust, and her fingers dig in to my hands.

“Open your legs. Wider,” I say into her mouth.

She does.

I thrust into her rhythmically, and she writhes beneath me, sweat slicking her skin and mine. Our breathing speeds until it tangles in the space between our mouths. Her pussy clenches around my cock tighter and tighter until I groan with the sheer pressure of her pleasure.

Ella wrenches her hands from mine and grips her thighs, holding her legs open and up, and buries her face in my neck. I hold the back of her head and use my other hand to steady me.

And I drive into her, faster and faster, until the noises from her mouth become words that make no sense, until her body is a tight ball of pressure beneath me, and until I’m wound so tightly from holding back that I slam into her in one final burst of desperation.

The strength in her gripping my back accompanies my orgasm. Cum spurts from the end of my dick as she spasms around me.

“Oh hell,” she breathes, dropping her head back onto the bed.

I cover her lips with mine and stay inside her, just for a moment longer.

Ella rests her head to the side and closes her eyes, then brings her hand up to cover them. I rest my forehead against hers, adrenaline and pleasure and, finally, calm flooding through my body.

I roll to the side and pull the condom off, dropping it to the floor by the side of the bed. Ella curls herself into my side and rests her cheek against my chest.

My lips brush against her forehead, and I wrap one of my arms around her tiny body.

“I’ve wondered since I saw them.” Her whisper breaks the silence, and she traces a hand over the tattoos on my lower stomach. “Why the angel wings?”

“Ain’t it obvious, darlin’?” I smirk. “Heaven is inside my pants.”

She jerks her head back and stares at me. “For real?”

I grasp her jaw tenderly and gaze right back at her. “You just came so hard you couldn’t even scream. Pretty fuckin’ heavenly, if you ask me.”

She smiles into my kiss. “Oh God.”

“That’s it, darlin’. Say my name.”

She slaps my chest and laughs. “Arrogance? That’s not a very hot name.”

“Ooooh, she’s sassy.” I grin when she leans over me. “She’s sexy when she’s sassy.”

Ella’s lips curve to the sides, her dark hair falling around our faces. “She’s happy when she’s sassy.” She hovers her hand above my jaw before she lowers it. The backs of her fingertips trail along the roughly stubbled curve. “She’s sassy when she’s safe,” she finishes in the tiniest whisper I’ve ever heard.

“Els,” I mutter back, threading my fingers through the back of her hair and pulling her in for a long, slow kiss that leaves no doubt to her last sentence.

“P
epperoni or chicken tikka?”

“Nachos.”

“You cannot live off nachos.”

“Can too.” Ella nods, curled in a corner of the sofa. “There’s meat, carbs, vegetables, and wine totally counts as sugars.”

“Darlin’, you want meat, I can give you meat.”

A cushion comes flying at my face. I duck to avoid it.

“Gross!”

“You didn’t think it was gross when it was inside you earlier.”

“It was a whole lot sexier then.”

“Are you calling me sexy?”

“No. Not you. Your penis.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You can say dick, you know. I promise I won’t mind.”

“I don’t . . . Um.”

“Say it. Dick. Or cock. One of them.”

She sighs impatiently. “Cock. There—are you happy?”

“Almost . . .” I drop onto the sofa next to her. “Now say ‘fuck.’ ”

“What?” She frowns.

“I’ve never heard you say shit or fuck.”

“So what? Not everyone has to, you know?”

“I know. But I just want you to say it. For shits and giggles.”

“Tate.” Her lips twist to the side. “Don’t be so dumb.”

“I’m not. Look. Fuck.” I say it slowly, exaggerating the movement of my lips. “You say it. It feels fuckin’ wonderful.”

“Can you just order my nachos?”

“Fuuuuuuck.” I lean over her.

“Nachos.”

“Fuuuuuuck.”

Her gorgeous dark eyes narrow. “Nachos!”

“Els.”

“Fuck!” she snaps. “There! Fuck. Fucky fuckity fuckadoodle fuck.”

“That’s a whole lotta fucks for such a little girl.” I grin.

“Yeah, well now I have none left to give until I get my nachos.”

“You know,” I back up, laughing, “we could meet everyone for dinner downstairs. The reservation is in five minutes.”

Ella glances toward the door, then back at me. “I don’t. I mean.”

“You say you’re afraid and I’m going to have to fuck you again.” I grab her hands and pull her up. “Remind me who’s under your skin?”

“You,” she murmurs. “But he . . . nags at me.”

“Then I’ll nag him right the fuck out.” I kiss her forehead. “Fear nothing. Isn’t that what I’ve heard you whispering to yourself a thousand times?”

“You heard that?” She looks up at me, eyes wide.

“I heard everything you never thought you said,” I reply, brushing her hair from her face. “And I listened to every word. So, dinner downstairs?”

She studies me for a moment, her eyes narrowing with confusion. She scrutinizes every inch of my face, before she nods slowly. “Dinner downstairs.”

E
lla pushes some hair from her face and sits down next to Sofie, who eyes her over the top of her wineglass. Sofie’s blue eyes flick between me and Ella, and when I raise my eyebrows, she grins.

“So. You convinced her to stay with you.”

“He didn’t so much convince me as force me,” Ella mutters, reaching for the glass of wine Kye pours her. “Thank you.”

“So I could convince you to stay with me?” Kye winks.

I stare at him stonily, and his face breaks into a grin when he meets my eyes. Bastard.

“Well, Tate’s look answers that,” Aidan laughs. “So how’d he convince you to stay with him?”

Ella chokes on her wine and sets the glass down, banging her fist into her chest. I reach over and pat her back as she mumbles some unintelligible answer through her coughs.

“Sorry, Ella. I didn’t get that. Did you say ‘fucked you’?”

“Enough,” I snap at Aidan. “Don’t fuckin’ talk to her that way.”

“That’s a yes,” Conner adds.

“Conner Burke you stay the hell out of this,” Sofie warns.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you two,” she turns on Ads and Kye. “It ain’t none of your business how Tate convinced her to stay with him, and y’all should be ashamed of yourselves for embarrassin’ Ella.”

“You’re right,” Ads and Kye say simultaneously. “Sorry, Ella.”

She blinks. “Um. It’s okay.” She leans into me. “That’s freaky.”

“Try growin’ up with it,” I mutter back.

“Just don’t do a Sofie and Conner,” Aidan adds, not so helpfully.

“Seriously?” Sofie and Ella say, Kye-and-Aidan style. Ella’s eyes dart to her before she continues, “Is your sex life lacking, Aidan? Because as the band’s assistant, it’s my job to make sure you all are happy. I can find you someone to fill that hole, if you’d like.”

“I do the hole-fillin’, Ella.”

“Then I’ll find you a hole to fill, but it ain’t gonna fill the one you’ve got. That can only be filled by a girl,” she remarks, taking hold of her wineglass and tilting it toward him a little. “Say ‘now’ and I can call before my nachos get here.”

“Fuckin’ nachos,” I mutter.

“Eff you, Mr. Burke,” she retorts smartly. “Well, Ads?”

“Did she just say ‘eff?’ ” Kye interjects. “That’s the closest to cussin’ I’ve ever heard her say.”

“She said ‘fuck’ earlier,” I interject. “Several times, and several variations.”

“I bet she did,” Conner sniggers.

“Shut it, Con, or the only fuck you’ll be getting is the damn word,” Sofie growls.

Conner mimes zipping his lips like the pussy-whipped bitch he is.

“Fuck,” Ella says sharply. “There you go. Fuck. Fancy-pants girl from Manhattan that vacays in the Hamptons can swear. Fuck, shit, ass. Are we happy now?”

I groan and rest my forehead on top of her shoulder. “I think you just made me hard.”

“Tate!” she squeals. “Shut up!”

Sofie snorts and disguises it with her wineglass. “Seems like Tate Burke can keep promises after all.”

“I thought you told
me
to shut up!” Conner moans.

“Oh, stop it!” She swats his arm and turns to Ella, ignoring my smirking lips. “Ignore me, doll. I’m not teasin’ you, just Tate. But, well, I’m just glad the boom-boom-pow thing y’all had goin’ on finally boom-boom-powed.”

Ella sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and looks down at her lap.

“Sofie,” Kye complains. “Why’d you upset her?”

Ella’s shoulders shake.

“Els? Y’all right, darlin’?” I touch her arm.

A tiny giggle falls from her lips, and she looks up, her hand covering her mouth. She focuses on Sofie, still giggling, and says, “Boom-boom-powed?”

Sofie scratches her upper lip and laughs into her palm. “Well, you know. It was supposed to be an insinuation.”