Make Me Sweat Page 6

  He snaked a hand to the front of her and pinched a nipple.

  “Fuck.” Her head fell back onto his shoulder.

  “I want you to come.” He rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger. “Come all over those fingers of yours. Come all over my cock in your tight ass.” He drove deeper into her, again and again, wringing hoarse cries from her throat.

  Ever pinched her clit, hips rocking. Orgasmic heat simmered in her lower belly and spread, crashing over her and graying her vision.

  “Dakota.”

  He grabbed her chin, turned her face to the side, and caught her mouth with his, swallowing the rest of her cries. Her body writhed and shuddered. His cock speared her ass. Hard. Punishing. He stabbed into her one last time then groaned into her mouth, cock jerking inside her.

  She collapsed onto the bed, face first, taking him with her. He rolled them onto their backs. The movement dislodged him from her ass. He grunted and sat up. Eyes on her, he ripped off the condom and dropped it on the floor.

  “Ever.” He lifted her leg, removing one boot then the other. Sliding his hand up her legs to her thighs, Dakota shifted between her legs. “Spread for me.”

  Beyond caring, she lowered her lashes and obeyed. He bent and took a deep breath, inhaling her. A whimper left her throat.

  “You’re so pretty down here, Ever.” He parted her wet folds with both hands. “Pink perfection, slick with your cream.” His breath whispered across her clit as he leaned in and licked from clit to hole.

  “Argh.” She arched off the bed.

  “Sssh.” He peeked up at her from below dark lashes, eyes glinting. “Let me taste you right. I’ve missed your taste, Ever, and I haven’t missed anything in a long while.” Dipping his head, he pressed his nose to her clit and stabbed his tongue into her.

  “Dakota, please. Don’t do this, don’t—” She pulled at the sheets, heart heavy.

  “Don’t what, Ever?” His mouth glistened with her juices, and as she watched, his tongue flicked out, licking his lips. Her eyelids fluttered, pussy clenching and unclenching. “Don’t love you? Don’t show you what we could be, what we can have?”

  “Yes.” She yelled the word, head thrashing on the pillows. “Yes, damn it.”

  “You want to know how you affect me, Ever?” He crawled up her body, face and eyes hard, and straddled her midsection. His cock jutted out in front of him, stiff like they hadn’t just finished fucking. The round, purple tip dripped pearlescent liquid in the valley between her breasts. “I can’t think about anyone but you. It’s difficult to concentrate on my job, this past few days especially. You ran away from me, and yet I don’t want anyone else.”

  He palmed his cock, stroking the length leisurely. “I can have anyone, Ever. I’ve fucked them all, and none make me as hard as you. None made me sweat and need and want so bad that I could taste it. Taste you.”

  She snapped her eyes shut. Sincerity rang in his words, hurting her heart even more. He loved her, but he didn’t know the real Ever Marcille. He could never know that woman.

  “Look at me, Ever. Look at what you do to me.’

  She opened her eyes, gaze widening as he stroked himself. His breath turned to pants as he pulled at his cock not too gently. “This is what you do, Ever.”

  She brought her attention to his dilated pupils. The darks of his eyes appeared to be bleeding out into the whites. Nose flared, he stared her down, jerking himself off all the while.

  “Dakota.” She covered the hand on his cock with her own, squeezing and stroking as he did.

  “Ugh, God!” He threw his head back, the veins in his neck bulging.

  “Do it,” she coaxed. “Cum for me. Cum on me.”

  He cried out, head snapping forward. Hips pumping, he came, spraying hot seed on her chest.

  “Shit!” Ever bucked, arching into the liquid burn.

  “So fucking pretty.” Dakota climbed off her and spread out on the mattress. Leaning over, he swiped his tongue through the thick fluid and groaned.

  Jeezus, will this guy ever stop making her hot? Ever grabbed his hair and he turned to her. “Fucking do that again,” she commanded. He did and she yanked him up, mashing their lips together. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, transferring his cum to her. “Umm.” She flicked her tongue over his, dancing around him.

  His fingers sank into her hair holding her still as he turned the kiss from soft, to hard and desperate. He devoured her mouth, biting and sucking her tongue. Ever clutched his shoulders, fighting to remember her plans. As it was, she danced perilously close to losing herself in Simon Dakin, succumbing to his campaign to own her, body and soul.

  She broke the kiss finally. “Umm, we need a shower.”

  “Damn.” He stared at her, lips swollen and wet, eyes at half-mast. She winked and swirled a finger in the cum cooling on her chest then presented it to him. He sucked the finger into his warm mouth, hungry gaze on her. Those eyes, like the man himself, could destroy her. She couldn’t let it happen. Bigger things were at stake than just her broken heart.

  She’d had one of those before and lived to tell the tale.

  This one was different. The pain would be different. A million times more than what Angus could ever dream of dishing out.

  “Hey.” He bumped her nose with his. “Where’d you go?” His gaze searched hers.

  She smiled and rose on her elbows. “Just dreaming of a hot shower.”

  “Go on then.” He pointed to the bathroom. “I have some calls to make, so I’ll shower after you.” He dropped a kiss on her lips then walked into an adjacent room. Ever hurried to the bathroom, showering in record time. When she came back out, he was still in the other room, so she hurriedly opened the bottle of Moscato and retrieved the tiny zip locked package she’d gotten from an ex of Wes’s.

  She poured herself a drink and sat at the edge of the bed, waiting for him to return. Sipping her drink, she did her best to convince herself there was no other way around what she was about to do. If this were only about her, she’d confess and let the chips fall where they may. Especially if Angus got his in the bargain. But Wes’s freedom was also in the mix, and hell if she’d allow him to get locked up for her cowardice and lousy choice in men.

  He’d killed for her. The least she could do was drug a fucking undercover Fed. Didn’t matter that she loved said Fed. Love didn’t count, not in this instance.

  “Are you okay?’ Dakin walked into the room. Naked as a freaking jaybird, heavy cock swinging this way and that. She forced her gaze away and met his eyes.

  “Yeah, I’m good.” She picked up his drink, handed it to him. “I poured you a drink.”

  Those sinful eyes smiled at her as he brought the glass to his lips. “Thanks.” He drank about half then paused. “Hmm, good shit.”

  She giggled, on the verge of hysteria.

  “Hey, stay the night with me.” He cupped her chin. “I want you in my arms when I wake up.”

  “Drink your good shit.” She sipped hers, entire body trembling.

  He blinked slowly. “Stay with me, Ever.”

  “I will if you drink up.” She attempted a grin. “In case you missed it, I’m trying to get you drunk here.” He had to drink the entire thing.

  “Hm.” He downed the last of the liquor. “You want to have your wicked way with me?”

  “I do.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him to sit beside her on the bed. He sat heavily, a frown playing on his brow. The glass slipped from his fingers to the floor, the sound muffled by the thick carpet. He tipped forward and would’ve fallen on his face if she hadn’t grabbed his shoulder.

  “Wha-wha’s happ’n?” He turned glazed and confused eyes to her.

  Tears pooled in her eyes. “Lie down.” She pushed on his shoulders until he fell back on the bed.

  “Ev-Ever, wha’s...” He lifted a hand to grab her, maybe, but it fell weakly back to his side. “Ever.”

  “Simon.” She spoke his real name for the first time. “Simon, look
at me.”

  He did, hurt now clearly outlined in his eyes along with anger and pain. “You-you know.” He fought her hold, struggling instead to rise on his elbow. “Drug. You drug—why?” His lashes dropped, mercifully hiding his eyes from her.

  She leaned over him and whispered in his ear. “Yes, Simon, I know who you are. But you don’t know me, not yet anyway.” That could change once he got back on his feet. “I have to choose between the two men I love, and you—” She swiped at the tears crawling down her face. “And you, Simon, I’m not sure of. I can’t chance Wes’s freedom on your feelings for me.”

  “Love.” His lashes fluttered. “I love—love…” He passed out.

  Sobbing, she took his limp hand and pressed it to her cheek. “And I love you, Simon Dakin, or Ian Dakota. Whatever you call yourself, I love you, too. But it’s not enough.” Ever pressed a kiss to his lips and hopped off the bed.

  Time to search. Find whatever he had on the Ghost so far and destroy it. Maybe whatever he’d found hadn’t been presented to his superiors yet, maybe he was waiting until he had everything he needed to bring to them. It was a big leap but a chance she had to take. Yes, she’d be protecting Angus’s ass again, but she chose to focus on Wes. He wouldn’t go to jail.

  Slipping on her clothes and shoes, she began her search, going through drawers, cupboards, and cabinets. She even flipped up the ends of the mattress before heading downstairs to search the lower half of his house. It was a long shot he’d even have evidence here, but Simon Dakin had hunted Ghost for too long. Surely he’d have some reading material on the case around here somewhere.

  All she had to do was find the damn thing. She went around knocking walls, listening for a telltale hollow sound, but none came. Ever wandered around the huge-ass house until she came to the playroom—pool tables, arcade games, even a theater section.

  Hmm, show off much?

  Perched on the edge of the pool table, Ever surveyed the room. Nothing stood out or was out of place. Fuck, I’m screwed. She hopped off the table and stood in the middle of the room, hands on her hips. She had to leave quickly before someone came knocking, someone like that nosy, gorgeous piece of man flesh, Jayce.

  She dropped to her hands and knees, dragging her palms over the tiled floor. Gross, but she had to do what she had to. Her mind kept replaying the damn scene upstairs, the hurt in Simon’s eyes.

  God, she’d put it there. After all he’d done to make her see how much he cared. He’d hate her after this, and she didn’t blame him. In fact, she wished he’d hate her. Make losing him hurt less. Maybe, not so much.

  Her forehead banged on the side of the pool table. “Ouch.” She rubbed the spot and shifted away, but her hair caught on a latch and pulled. “Ow! Shit.” She ran her fingers over the latch, looking for a way to unhook her hair. A depression in the smooth surface caught her eye and she pressed down on it. The pool table siding slid away, freeing her hair, and revealing a nice hidey hole complete with about half a dozen folders marked ‘Official’.

  “Jack-fucking-pot.” She scooped up everything, and after rolling them up, stuck them inside her thigh-high boots. Damn boots had to serve some kind of purpose besides killing her feet. Satisfied her stash was safely hidden, she cast one last, mournful look toward the stairs and Simon Dakin then rushed out the door.

  Seated behind the wheel of her car, she heaved a sigh when the guard waved her through the huge security gate surrounding the estate. She drove out and away from the man she loved, tears streaming down her face.

  Five minutes of crying later, she straightened her spine and wiped her tears. What’s done is done. Resigned to her fate, her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Simon Dakin was in her past, now to focus on the future. A future without him. She sniffed and shook her head. No more tears.

  A force slammed into her car from behind, jerking the steering wheel away from her control. Her head snapped back, everything spun. Belatedly, she realized the car was the one spinning. Shattered glass rained like sharp confetti on her skin, though she barely felt anything.

  The car kept spinning. Staring out into nothingness, Ever had to smile at the irony. She’d die here, minutes after betraying the love of her life. She welcomed it. Life without her love couldn’t really be worth living. But Wes—

  “I’ve got her, boss.”

  She opened her eyes. A pair of huge, black boots was planted inches from her face where she lay on the ground. She’d been thrown from the car then. She sighed mentally while attempting to move her feet. Well, her limbs worked despite the fucking pain in her face and chest.

  Make that her entire body. “Umm.”

  “She’s awake.”

  And who in the hell was—

  A pair of mocking eyes bore into hers. Bright lights nearby illuminated the pale, gorgeous face framed by wavy, red hair. “Hello, wife.”

  Chapter Ten

  Dak sat at his desk in his office at the club and stared unseeing at the papers in front of him. His body still felt the effects of the drug in his system. The doctor wanted him to stay in bed and rest. How the fuck could he? The woman he’d trusted, given his heart to, had betrayed him.

  Betrayed him after he told her how he felt. Jeezus. He pushed back his chair and paced. He loved her, and she’d fucked him, drugged him, and robbed him. Ever Marcille, wife of Angus Brennan.

  He’d messed up royally, and he had to fix it before the higher ups got wind of it. At the moment, only he and Jayce knew. Only they knew how he’d been led by his cock and his heart, allowing himself to be distracted by a pretty face and tight pussy.

  “She played me, Jayce.” He shoved his fingers through his hair and met Jayce’s gaze. His friend stood by the windows, arms folded, watching him lose it. “She played me like a fucking board game, and I let her,” he spoke through clenched teeth. “Am I really losing my touch that I couldn’t see I was being played for a fool? Am I that jaded?” His chest hurt, the pain weakening his knees. He grasped the edge of his desk for support. He couldn’t blame the drugs she’d given him for this pain, it was his heart. He’d given her his heart, and she’d stomped all over it.

  “You gotta stop beating yourself up.” Jayce shifted, his voice calm and composed. Always the voice of reason. “We need to find her. She took copies of the files, but we still have to find out what she knows.” He met Dak’s gaze. “You realize she might be involved in this Ghost business, right?’

  “I know.” And he couldn’t reconcile it with the woman he’d held in his arms, the woman he’d made love to last night. But then again, he didn’t know her at all. He rubbed his chest.

  “You love her.”

  He shook his head. “I love someone who doesn’t exist. And besides, it doesn’t matter what I feel. When I catch her, she’s going to jail.” He couldn’t suppress the regret and feeling of profound loss the statement brought. He retook his seat and picked up the information faxed over that morning. Ever Marcille was born here in Chicago and went to school here, until college when she travelled a bit. Europe, Australia, and Ireland. She spent months in the first two places then settled in Ireland, married to Angus Brennan.

  The same Brennan he’d arrested five years ago and questioned about the Ghost. Having nothing concrete to hold the man on, he’d had to release him after forty-eight hours, and Brennan promptly left the country. Never to be seen or heard from again. Dak hadn’t given the man another thought, until this morning.

  “Did she know I was Simon Dakin from the get-go?” He leafed through the papers, musing out loud. “I’ve been after the Ghost for five years. This says Brennan hasn’t travelled back into the country, but his wife returned six months before I went under. It’s been almost two years since. Why act now?”

  “Because we bugged you.”

  Dak jumped to his feet, he and Jayce aiming their guns at the stranger in the open doorway. The blond man held up his hands, powder-blue gaze clear but watchful. He looked from Dak to Jayce and back, lips curved.
r />   “I’m unarmed.”

  Dak didn’t relax his hold on his weapon.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Jayce growled, taking a step forward.

  “My name’s Westin Dumont,” he spoke directly to Dak. “We have a woman in common.”

  “What woman would that be?” Dak eyed the man up and down. Dressed in a tight, white shirt with rolled up sleeves and gray jeans with matching high-tops, he looked like a college kid. His eyes gave him away. They were older, jaded. He held a brown binder.

  “The woman you love.”

  Jayce growled and moved closer to Westin. Dak aimed his gun at the man’s forehead. “Are you two working together? What do you know about this?”

  “I love her.” Hands in front of him, Westin walked toward them slowly, his eyes on Dak. “I know she bugged you, because I gave her the bug to plant.” His lips twitched. “I know she drugged you, because she got the drugs from me. I also know she stole from you.”

  Jayce lunged , grabbing Westin by the throat and yanking him forward.

  Westin didn’t struggle. In fact, he didn’t do anything except close his eyes and take deep breaths.

  “Do you have a death wish?” Jayce pressed his gun to the man’s head. “Is that why you came here? She sent you to finish her dirty work?”

  Westin lifted his over-long lashes slowly, focusing his gaze on Jayce’s face. Dak watched his friend’s jaw clench, sweat glistening on his brow.

  “Jayce Santana,” Westin murmured.

  Jayce shuddered.

  “I’ve heard your voice a million times. Your photographs don’t do you justice.”

  Eyebrow raised, Dak watched as Jayce’s gun hand shook. It wasn’t overly noticeable, but he knew his best friend, and something was off.

  He touched Jayce’s shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me something I don’t know, Mr. Dumont?” He nudged Jayce and his friend’s gaze clashed with Dak’s, confusion and bewilderment in their gray depths. Dak frowned, but Jayce turned away abruptly, giving him his back.