PAYBACK (A Bad Boy Romance) (17 page)

“That's not a promise I can make.”

“Then find a way. I won't do this otherwise.” He wasn't the only one who could drive a hard bargain.

Jameson hesitated but ultimately agreed. “Fine.”

I let out a breath. Was this really happening? “Okay...where and when?”

“No time like the present.”

“N-now?” I stammered, shocked that he was so eager when I wanted to put it off for as long as possible. “It’s late.”

He seemed to think better of his answer and said, “You’re right. Tomorrow, I want you to go get waxed. Everywhere.”

I wanted to vomit. This was more than I bargained for.

“You don't get to dictate—“

“Everywhere. Except for a nice landing strip. I like that.”

I wanted to scream at the injustice, the sheer audacity of the man to demand such a thing after everything I was sacrificing. Wasn’t it bad enough that I was agreeing to this disgusting exchange?

“Ivy.”

His voice in my ear sent unwanted shivers down my spine.

I hated that his voice had that effect on me.

I shouldn’t feel anything but revulsion for the man who was forcing me to sacrifice my values to save my brother.

“I look forward to seeing you.”

I didn't trust my voice not to tremble and simply hung up. Seconds later a text bubble appeared with an address.

This was insanity.

My stomach felt ready to rebel except I hadn't eaten anything to purge.

How would I get through this without wanting to die?

I
was going to hell
.

I stared at my phone and shook my head at the career suicide I was eagerly committing.

Maybe it was too much time spent undercover, hanging with dirtbags, learning their secrets that I’d forgotten what it meant to be a decent human being.

There was no prettying up what I was doing. Hell, I was playing fast and loose with the law.

Skimming the edge of disaster with two wheels off the ground.

I was supposed to undergo a psych eval each time I surfaced from deep cover but I usually found a way to get out of that detail.

The captain didn't much care about my mental state as long as I was still bringing home wins and big busts.

Looked good on paper for the captain.

I didn’t exactly log a win this time around though. I wondered if that would affect my ‘captain credit.’

If I were smart, I’d call off this deal and forget it ever happened but that would mean I’d have to forget about the way Ivy made me feel and that wasn’t going to happen.

She was under my skin and I’d never even touched her yet.

Going undercover means having to shelve the ‘real you’ for someone that you probably despise.

I would never hang with the fuckers that I traffic with when I’m playing a part.

I’ve backstabbed people who thought I was their friend.

I’ve watched as women who were in love with me, were handcuffed and thrown into the back of a squad car.

And I felt nothing.

That was the thing. Lately, I felt a whole lot of nothing.

Maybe I shouldn’t have cancelled that latest shrink eval. Maybe I was afraid of what might turn up.

I tossed my phone to the table and scrubbed my face, intensely aware that I was in the deep end of the pool but damn, the truth of it was...I couldn't bring myself to swim to safety.

If Hank knew what I was doing, he'd try to knock some sense into me.

But Hank wasn't going to know and I wasn't going to share.

Ivy.

Was this what obsession felt like?

I’d busted plenty of stalkers in my tenure and they all said the same thing:
But I love her
.

As if that erased a multitude of sins.

Fuck love.

Fuck emotional attachment.

I just wanted to go balls deep inside a hot pussy.

Sure, as long as that pussy belonged to a certain tiny blonde with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen in his life.

Hell...running from the truth had never worked out well for anyone but I was willing to give it a shot.

Once I got her out of my system, I’d be fine. I could walk away — no problem.

Like I wanted some chick hanging all over me, cramping my style.

I wasn’t the marrying type. Or the faithful type.

I liked the freedom to bring home whomever I chose — to bang whomever I chose.

And I was good at it.

Practice made perfect.

I
walked
on unsteady feet to the front door of the house belonging to the address Jameson had sent.

The older neighborhood was quiet, unassuming. The houses on the street were maintained but not flashy in any way.

At one time maybe the neighborhood had been uptown but now, it was probably comprised of rentals owned by people who had long since moved away to Florida and maintained the homes for supplemental income.

I could still back out.

Just walk away. Turn around and get back in your car. Forget that you ever considered this disgusting exchange.

I hesitated…as if I was actually going to renege. But my choices were limited. I couldn’t let Frankie rot, even though it was his own choices that’d put him back in jail.

Way to personify an enabler, Ivy.

Great, now the voice inside my head was also disgusted with my actions.

Just get it over with.

I put on a brave face and knocked on the door.

I held my breath, hoping against hope that perhaps he'd decided to stand me up so I could chicken out without losing too much face.

But no such luck.

The door opened before I could blink and there he was, grinning, looking supremely pleased with the fact that I’d shown up.

I scowled. “Stop looking so happy. You’re an asshole for making me do this.”

“I’m surprised to see you keep your word. Frankly, I expected less from someone like you.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means, I put little faith in your family’s ability to hold true to something.”

I clenched my jaw and stalked past him into the small living room. “Are you going to insult me all night or invite me in so we can get this over with?”

“If my proposal upsets you so much why are you willing to do this for that worthless brother of yours?”

I scowled. “Picking me apart for my choices isn't your right.” I gestured nervously. “Just take off your pants and let's get it over with.”

Jameson laughed. “In a hurry? Got a date?”

“Maybe I don't want to spend a moment longer than I have to with you.”

His smile faded and he pulled his belt free, leaving it to hang ominously from his fingertips. “Sweetheart, has anyone ever told you, that your sense of self-preservation was damaged as fuck?”

“It's been mentioned.”

“Let me scrub your head of whatever notion you have of what tonight is going to be like...I've never been a minute-man and I don't plan to start tonight. What I'm going to do to you will be slow, hard, and thorough. By the time we're through, it'll be a damn miracle if you can walk.”

The blood drained from my face. “You're going to hurt me?”

“Only if you ask me to.”

“Why would I ask you to hurt me?” I asked, baffled.

“Oh honey, sometimes a little pain sweetens the pleasure.”

I opened my mouth to snap but before I could say a word, his hot, greedy mouth was claiming mine, pushing me onto the mattress with the bulk of his heavy body.

I felt impossibly tiny against him and there was something darkly intense about the way my nerve endings came to life at his rough touch.

There was nothing sweet or gentle about Jameson.

He took what he wanted, no matter my feelings on the matter.

As if I belonged to him.

I whimpered as his hand gripped my throat, holding me in place while his other hand palmed my soft belly.

Trembles betrayed me as needy warmth funneled south, slicking my insides and turning me to jelly.

He had me pinned.

It was heady and scary at the same time.

Jameson mixed fear with lust and it was a combustible concoction, one I never would've admitted in a million years that made me slippery with mindless desire.

Desire I desperately wanted to fight.

I stiffened, purposefully shutting down the thoughts that jumped like rabbits escaping a fire through my mind.

Mustn't be aroused! This was sick! Jameson was the devil!

I pushed against him, breaking the kiss, breathing hard.

“I’m not a piece of meat you can just devour,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Wrong. You are mine to eat at my leisure,” he corrected me.

I had to catch my breath. I just needed a minute to regroup.

My gaze darted to the interior of his house, grasping onto the first thing I noticed.

A man definitely lived here.

Solid colors, bold, manly, and very little in the way of pictures or sentiment.

Did he live here or did he just sleep here?

“I doesn’t surprise me that you keep nothing in the way of mementos in your house,” I disdained, hoping my insult hit home. “People like you probably don’t have any true friends and any family you might have, have probably long since washed their hands of you.”

“Baby girl’s got claws,” he said.

“Stop calling me that,” I returned, hating the way my belly trembled when those stupid words fell from his mouth. “I’m an adult.”

“Oh yes, you are,” he agreed and I immediately regretted saying anything. His hot gaze roaming my body felt as primal as if his hands were touching me. He grinned. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Let's get this straight — I'm not comfortable and I never will be. I just want this to be over with.”

He laughed at my insistence to just do the deed so I could leave and scrub my skin off.

Would I ever be able to completely scrub his touch from my memory?

Even as I wanted to shake with revulsion at the very idea, I was becoming hot and twitchy. My pelvis felt heavy and my vagina (I refuse to call it pussy, that’s just gross) was becoming slick.

I wasn’t stupid.

Those were classic arousal signs.

But I didn’t want to be aroused by him.

I think getting hot and slippery over Ghengis Khan would’ve been preferable to doing it with Jameson Reed.

Jameson's dark eyes narrowed but those damnable lips twisted in a dangerous smirk that sent my belly to quivering with something that wasn't entirely unpleasant. “I like a girl who knows how to get to the point.”

And then lightening fast, Jameson had jerked me into his arms. Those thick bands of muscle wrapped around me, lifting me off my feet, and I gasped even as he hoisted me onto his hips.

I had no choice but to wrap my legs around his torso and cling to him.

“What are you doing?” I asked in an agonized whisper.

Could he feel the heat at my center against his belly?

Would he know that I was shamefully turned-on even if I didn’t want to be?

His chest was like granite.

Everywhere my fingers went, I was met with solid steel.

Flutters of warmth tickled my insides as he gripped my behind, squeezing as if it were his right to touch me so intimately.

“Why are you still a virgin?” he asked in a low tone as he slowly walked to the bedroom.

“Q&A wasn’t part of the deal,” I answered, meeting his gaze. Those dark eyes bored into my soul, seeking weakness. I caved in spite of myself. “I told you, I wanted to save the one thing that was mine to give, to the man I fell in love with.”

“You never felt the urge to fuck?”

My cheeks flamed. “Do you have to use such dirty language?”

“Answer the question.”

I glared and looked away, refusing to answer.

“Ah, shy girl? I like that.”

Jameson set me down on the bed and then immediately began to strip.

I tried to avert my gaze but like a magnet, I was drawn to see what my mind was stubbornly curious about.

The man had a beautiful body, I’d give him that.

Tattoos crisscrossed his body, traveling down the skin in a hodgepodge of sayings, drawings and numbers.

I wanted to know what they meant, what they signified.

My curiosity would be the death of me someday.

“Did you get waxed like you were told?” he asked.

I glared but jerked a short nod. I hadn’t wanted to take any chances of Jameson not following through on some lame technicality.

“Yes. You owe me $75.” My brow raised sardonically when he chuckled as if I were bold to demand anything from him. “I don’t have money to spend frivolously. You’re the one who wanted it…so you can pay for it. Cash please.”

He reached into his wallet and held up a $100 bill then deliberately placed it on his dresser. “It’s yours when we’re finished.”

Great, now I really felt like a whore.

But, why quibble now?

Jameson popped the button on his jeans and my breath caught painfully.

He seemed to enjoy every moment of my consternation. Of course, he would enjoy it. He had no soul.

“How long have you been extorting innocent people?” I asked bravely, hoping that if I kept reminding him that he was doing a despicable thing, he’d come to his senses and let me go.

“You’re the first,” he answered, slowly stepping out of his jeans. And good lord, he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

His member sprung free and I was forced to stare.

It wasn’t the first penis I’d ever seen.

But Jameson wasn’t exactly average by my limited experience.

In fact, I was pretty certain, that
thing
wasn’t going to fit.

The spit dried in my mouth and all I could do was stare helplessly — and if I were being honest — a little fascinated by how strong and virile he seemed with that massive erection jutting straight toward me like a missile.

“Like what you see?” he asked coyly and I wanted to hiss at him that I thought it was disgusting and, just like him, over-the-top.

Of course, he couldn’t have a
normal
sized penis!

“Not really. It seems very…
veiny
. Is that normal? Maybe you ought to see a doctor first.”

He laughed and palmed that massive thing. “I assure you, my cock is perfectly healthy. And eager to get to know you.”

Was I really holding a conversation with Jameson while he held his dick in his hand?

Surreal
.

Sort of, like an erotic…nightmare.

“Tell me what you fantasize about,” Jameson instructed, slowly stroking himself.

“No.”

He arched his brow. “No?”

“The deal was sex. Not chatter.”

“You’re in an all-fire hurry aren’t you?” he asked, stalking toward me. I felt like a cornered animal but I lifted my chin and held my ground.

I wasn’t going to let him see me shake.

Even if I was about to faint.

“Touch it,” he directed and I balked.

“What do you mean, ‘touch it’?”

“With your mouth preferably.”

“Absolutely not.”

But even as I didn’t want that thing anywhere near my body, my mouth actually watered as if I were preparing to suck that shaft down my throat.

I hated myself for a variety of reasons but first and foremost…for desiring any sort of sexual contact from Jameson Reed.

The man was the devil.

I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my fists. “Just do it already,” I demanded.

Suddenly, I opened my eyes and he was right there, towering over me, those intense eyes arresting my gaze, holding me captive.

“What are you doing?” I asked, confused.

“Getting you out of your head,” he answered, right before he sealed his mouth to mine.

I wasn’t prepared for the shock of electricity that zapped my insides and sizzled every nerve ending.

His tongue demanded my participation. I couldn’t have refused him if I tried.

My hands were against the solid wall of his chest as he bore down on me.

My body felt small and feminine up against the hard muscle pressed against me.

A breathy moan escaped my lips even as he demanded every ounce of my focus.

His erection prodded at my belly, digging into my soft flesh with an insistence that seemed unreal. It was as if his member had a mind of its own and it wanted to be inside me.

Everything felt melty.

Colors blurred and I lost the edge of my anger for a brief moment.

I didn’t have the option of holding onto anything that wasn’t pleasurable.

He traveled my body and pulled my shorts off without mercy. My panties followed.

My legs automatically tried to close but he slapped them away.

“Let me see that pussy,” he growled and I squeezed my eyes shut even as I allowed my legs to open.

“Good girl,” he said with husky approval at the newly waxed, tender flesh of my groin. His fingers lightly petted my sensitive mound. “Did it hurt?”

“Yes,” I answered tightly, refusing to admit that I’d liked the final look.

I’d never thought to do it for myself but I secretly liked how sexy I felt, how sensual it felt against my own skin.

His chuckle popped my eyelids open as indignation followed but the look in his eyes dried the words.

Against all odds, his touch gentled as he reverently dragged his fingertips across the sensitized flesh and I gasped at the drugging sensuality stealing my senses.

The roughened pad of his index ran along the cleft of my seam and I bit my lip as a whimper threatened to escape.

I covered my eyes.

“Are you afraid?” he asked, his breath warming my exposed flesh. When I refused to answer, his tone roughened. “Look at me, Ivy.”

I dared to lower my hands to fist them at my side. “Of course, I am.”

“Good.”

But before I could respond, his mouth descended on my nether lips and the words were sucked from my mouth as a wild gasp popped.

I didn’t have time to react to the shyness that lived within me.

I panted as the warm, wet sensation of his tongue breaching my folds stole my breath.

Instant pleasure sprang to life between my thighs and I couldn’t breathe for the stunning awareness of every torturous lick and suck on my clitoris.

“You taste good, baby girl,” he growled against my skin, sending shivers rioting down my spine. I didn’t want his approval but I was losing the battle as he continued to feast on my most private of places.

I groaned, my hips lifting against my will, seeking that hot, slippery, marauding force.

My nipples pearled, abrading against the cotton of my bra, aching to be touched.

My belly clenched as tiny spasms rocked my body.