Trashy Conquest Read online

  “Will it hurt?”

  “A little at first, but I’ll make it feel really fucking amazing, Jules.” Turning my face toward his, he claims my mouth, tongue slipping past my lips in languid licks while the pace of the vibrator slows to a crawl. The heat building between my thighs is cooling, allowing time to prolong this, to consider doing other things.

  Things I’ve never done before.

  Things I only want to experience with him. Never anyone else. Perhaps, that’s the most thrilling reason of all.

  “Okay,” I whisper, breaking the kiss.

  He sucks in a breath. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I trust you.”

  We fail to move for several seconds, gazes locked on each other. I’m lost inside our connection when he grabs the bottle of lube.

  “I cherish your trust in me.” He squirts a generous dollop into one palm then takes his cock in hand, preparing himself. Gently moving me to my side, he spreads my cheeks and presses the head of his shaft against my backside, instructing me to relax as he probes my tight hole. Slowly, he pushes the tip inside.

  I hiss a breath through clenched teeth, but after a few seconds, the ache fades to a tolerable level, and he amps up the vibrations again.

  “How does it feel?”

  “Weird.”

  “We’ll go slow. I’m barely inside you yet.” He grabs my hip, pulling me closer as he sinks in a little further. “Focus on how good the vibrator feels.” He quickens the pace of the toy, and his mouth devours my neck, teeth nipping sensitive flesh as he kisses his way to my shoulder. I shutter my gaze and give myself over to the varying sensations rioting through me.

  The increasing pressure in my ass, accompanied by a burn I can’t escape—a burn that intensifies the deeper he pushes inside—yet something about it feels incredible.

  The fullness in my bottom.

  The utter wrongness of the act.

  And the heat of his hands, which seem to be…everywhere.

  On my nipples, teasing my clit, gripping my throat.

  “Are you okay?” He breathes the question against my skin, inducing a body-wide shudder.

  “Uh-huh.” The affirmation comes out at a high-pitch, followed by another uncontrolled mewl.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “A little,” I gasp. “But it feels so good.”

  He gains another inch, and I gasp again.

  “Press your thighs together. Don’t let it slip.”

  I do as he says, and the vibrator is snug in my pussy, driving me to new heights as my insides stretch to accommodate his penetration. With a final push, he lodges his cock inside my ass, and I stretch even further, taking his girth until he owns my body in a way no one’s owned it before.

  “Jules,” he hisses, teeth scraping over my shoulder. “Fuck, your ass is tight. I’ll never get enough. Never.”

  Our bodies find mutual rhythm, meeting in perfect tandem. Sweat breaks out at my temples, slides down my cheeks. Tears seep from my eyes. Cash sets the pace, the depth, and the sensation of him moving inside me is the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced. Allowing him to take me like this binds me to him in a way I can’t explain. A way I barely understand.

  I’m overcome.

  There’s no other word for it.

  I’m all twisted up, my body and soul launched into deep space. And he’s right there with me, locked inside the bubble of our intimacy. The profoundness of this moment is soul-changing.

  I’ll never be the same again, and I don’t think he will be either.

  A climax tears through me with such violence that I screech his name, thighs mashed together to milk the vibrator for all it’s worth. He thrusts inside my ass, a man on a mission to own me completely, and commands me to open my eyes. Demands that all-consuming connection between us as he nears orgasm.

  “So damn good. Jesus, Jules.” He pumps one last time then stalls on a resonant groan. There’s no withdrawing this time, no latex separating us. He comes with a gruff cry, jerking deeper until he’s emptied everything he is inside me.

  19. Reality Knocks

  Cash

  Tangled limbs in the sheets. Dozing off between kisses and wandering hands. Getting to know each other through whispered conversation. Hours pass us by in a flash. Rain pelts the window, and the sun sinks toward the horizon, hidden behind the cover of heavy clouds. Jules’ bedroom is growing dimmer by the minute. So is our time together because I know I have to find the strength to leave this bed.

  To leave Jules and return to the hospital.

  Maybe I should feel guilty for disappearing for the better part of the day, for leaving Monica alone to wake on her own, to face her mistakes by herself, but I don’t.

  Jules gave herself to me so completely, with so much trust and acceptance, that there’s not an iota of remorse flowing through my blood. For the first time in days, I’m calm, an aura of serenity driving away the chaos of my mind.

  I see our future together so clearly, and I can’t help but reach for it with everything I’ve got.

  “I don’t want to leave,” I whisper into her hair, tightening my arms around her, reluctant to let go. Spooning her is pure heaven.

  “I don’t want you to go either, but I understand why you have to.”

  “This isn’t like before. I’ll be back later. I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “I’ll be back,” I say firmly. “I’m just going to check on her before going home to pack a bag…if that’s okay?”

  She turns in my arms. “Of course it’s okay. This bed is definitely big enough for the two of us.”

  Grinning, I bring my lips to hers, and my cock springs to life again, aching to sink inside her body and find completion.

  To find home.

  I break free with a groan. “You’re an addiction I can’t fight.”

  “Don’t fight it then.”

  “I have to or I’d keep you in bed forever. You don’t realize the affect you have on me.”

  “That’s not true. It’s the same affect you have on me.”

  “Fair enough.” Letting out a sigh of resignation, I disentangle from the comfort of her embrace and move to sit at the edge of the bed. Jules gets up and starts gathering her clothing from the floor as I pull on my pants.

  “Just for the record,” she says, buttoning up her top, “I’ll wait however long it takes. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Two strides brings me to where she stands. I haul her into my arms and pull her into a deep kiss. As her fingers sift through my hair, she wraps her legs around my waist, and it takes the last of my willpower not to tumble onto the bed with her and lose a few more hours.

  “If I have my way,” I say, forcing my lips from hers, “you’ll be in my bed every night for the rest of my life.”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “I don’t want to wait, Jules. As soon as the divorce papers go through, I’m putting the penthouse up for sale. I want to find a place that’s our own.”

  Her eyes are a little wide as she slides out of my arms, feet firm on the floor. I grip her shoulders to steady her, because she seems a little off-kilter from what I just told her, and I’m not sure if her reaction is a bad thing, or a good thing.

  I’m hoping for the latter.

  “You want to move in together?”

  I can’t help but grin at her stunned tone. “That’s what I said.” I hold her face in my hands, thumbs brushing her cheekbones.

  “This is all happening fast,” she whispers.

  “Is that such a bad thing?”

  She shakes her head. “It’s just a big thing.” I let my hands drop from her cheeks, and she glances at the gold wedding band on my finger. “I’m surprised you’re ready to jump in so soon, considering everything you’ve been through with your wife.”

  “You’re different, Jules.” I don’t know how I know it, but I do. The day I married Monica, my gut was sick with the what-i
fs, not to mention the pressure our parents put on us. I have no doubt there was something real between Monica and me, but it didn’t compare to the way I feel about Jules. I would marry her tomorrow if I could. “I want forever with you. White picket fences, children, the whole nine yards.”

  “I want that with you too,” she says, gnawing on her lower lip, and I’d have to be blind to miss the uncertainty playing on her face. “But you haven’t even asked your wife for a divorce yet. How about we take it one step at a time?”

  “I can do that.” I press my mouth against hers, stealing a final moment before we finish dressing, because the real world is waiting beyond these four walls. By the time we reach her living room, evening has cast her apartment in shadow. Jules flicks on a lamp, and that’s when someone pounds on the door.

  A deep voice shouts her name from the other side.

  We glance at each other, and her eyes are huge with alarm, because it’s her ex, and she knows it as well as I do.

  “I’ll get rid of him,” I say as an illogical wave of jealousy threatens to choke me.

  She grabs my arm. “Don’t answer. He’ll go away.”

  Another barrage contradicts her words. “I know you’re in there! C’mon, open the fuckin’ door.”

  “Damn right, he’s going away.” Before she can stop me, I turn the lock and swing the door open. The idiot causing a ruckus on the other side takes one look at me and sneers.

  “I knew I wasn’t imagining it. Saw your mug on the news today. Shouldn’t you be with your wife right now?”

  “Shouldn’t you be in Oklahoma where you belong?” I fire back.

  He glances past me and glares at Jules. “Another married dude? You’ve turned into a real slut.”

  I grip him by the collar. “Apologize to her.”

  “Go ahead. Hit me,” he seethes into my face. “I fucking dare you.” Whiskey wafts off of him, surrounding him like an aura.

  “Stop it!” Jules wedges between us, and my hold on her asshole ex slips. She shoots us both a warning look before crossing her arms and facing off with him. “You’re drunk,” she says, voice laden with sadness. “I want you to leave.”

  “I only had a couple.”

  He had more than that, but I keep my opinion to myself.

  Jules shakes her head. “You said you were staying sober, remember?”

  “I was…I am.” He shoots me another glare, and if looks could maim, he’d have me bleeding out right now. “This is between me and Jules. You need to take a fuckin’ hike.”

  “You need to leave her alone. She doesn’t want you anymore.”

  “And you know that how? Because you fucked her a few times and now you think you know her?” He takes a step forward, the angles of his face hard and threatening, and I put myself between him and Jules, pure protective instinct taking over.

  She immediately tries to come forward again. “Cash, I can handle this.”

  “You shouldn’t have to. You told him to leave.” I turn my focus back to her ex. “If you don’t get the hell out of here, I’m calling the police. Do you understand me?”

  His anger bottoms out, and desperation flows from his features as he pleads with Jules. “Baby, we need to talk. Please. It’s important.”

  “There’s nothing left to say.” Her voice is small, and I hate the way she’s shrinking in this guy’s presence, wilting like a week-old bouquet of her favorite tulips. Something about him makes her unsure of herself, and for that alone, I want to hurt him.

  I pull my phone out, prepared to call the authorities, and give him a pointed look. “Last chance. She doesn’t want you here, and neither do I.”

  “This doesn’t involve you!” He balls his hands, and my spine stiffens, instincts going on high alert.

  “Unless you want me to lay you out on the ground,” I say through gritted teeth, “I suggest you move your ass off my girlfriend’s doorstep.”

  My harsh tone sends him back a couple of inches, and I push forward, gaze unwavering from his. Several tense seconds pass before he falters, realizing he won’t win this battle. He takes off down the vestibule and darts into the rain.

  I glance at Jules, taking in the paleness of her face, and lace our fingers together. “I don’t feel right leaving you here alone. He might come back.”

  “He won’t hurt me.”

  “He’s drunk. Intoxicated people can be unpredictable.” I should know, considering how alcohol played a part in changing Monica’s behavior.

  “This is nothing new,” she says, yet the strong grip of her hand tells me otherwise. His behavior shook her to the core. “This is Chris being Chris.”

  I sigh at the sadness in her voice. “Except now he’s lost you. I don’t trust desperate people, Jules.” I hate that I don’t know her ex better. Maybe I’d feel less nervous about leaving her to fend him off by herself if I knew the guy, but I don’t.

  “I’ll be fine,” she says, standing on tiptoe to wind her arms around my neck. “And I promise I’ll never kiss him again.”

  “This isn’t about that. I just need to know you’ll be safe.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She plants a kiss on my lips. “Go do what you need to do so you can come back to me that much sooner.”

  I hold onto her for a while longer, but my gut is heavy with dread. When I make my way into the alley, leaving her on her doorstep, I’m disturbingly unsettled.

  20. Triggered

  Jules

  A sense of sadness roils through me as I watch Cash disappear down the alley. The rain is a ruckus on the awning over the vestibule. Normally, the cacophony of water hitting the metal soothes me, but I can’t displace this feeling of unease I’ve had since Cash opened my door to Chris, and I realized my ex had gone back on his promise to remain sober.

  I go back inside and that’s when my cell goes off. I reach for my phone, expecting a call from Les since she’s been calling almost every night to chat about one thing or another—usually the band or the funny shit her customers say. It’s her way of checking on me.

  But it’s not Les.

  “Hi, Dad,” I say, closing and locking the door behind me.

  “Hey, Jules. How’re things going? Still loving your job?”

  “Things have been good. And yes, working at MontBlake is amazing.”

  “I can’t tell you how proud of you I am.”

  I don’t miss how he didn’t say we.

  “Thank you.” Opening the freezer, I finger through my options for dinner. Turkey, enchiladas, or Salisbury steak. I need to do some serious shopping because living off of frozen dinners and sandwiches from the deli down the street from MontBlake is kind of pathetic. “Mom still not talking to me?”

  His heavy sigh comes through the line. “Give her time. She’ll come around.”

  I put the Salisbury steak into the microwave and press the frozen dinner button. “She’ll have to because this is my life, not hers.”

  “She’ll figure it out eventually. But you know how your mother is.”

  “Stubborn and always right?” According to her, anyway.

  My dad laughs, and I can’t help but join in. “One out of two ain’t bad,” he says. His laughter dies a second later, turning into a coughing fit.

  “You promised you’d quit.”

  “Hey, I’m down to half a pack a day. Give your old man a break, okay?”

  His chain-smoking habits, coupled with the old man part is what concerns me the most. Dad is fifteen years older than Mom, and he isn’t getting any younger.

  “I worry about your health.”

  “I’m fine, Julie Bean.”

  “How’s Brit?” A change of subject is needed. I don’t want to get into an argument with the only member of my family who isn’t upset with me for choosing to live on the other side of the country.

  “Your sister is…” He clears his throat. “Well, you know how your sister is. Nothing will keep that girl down. She just signed a modeling contract with some fancy clothing line in the c
ity.”

  “That’s great! I know how hard she worked for it.” The photo shoots and various modeling jobs to build her portfolio finally paid off. My first instinct is to call and congratulate her, but I give that another thought. Unlike Mom, Brit’s still speaking to me, but the few times we’ve talked on the phone, her tone has been icy.

  “I’ll pass on your regards.” Another coughing fit fractures our conversation. “Sorry, Jules. I’ve got an early day tomorrow, so I’m off to bed.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Even with the two hour time difference, he’s calling it a night earlier than usual.

  “Stop worrying about me. I told you I’m fine. Just caught a summer cold, is all.”

  “Summer ended last week.”

  “I’m fine, Jules.”

  “I can’t help it.” I open the microwave to stir the potatoes before setting it to cook for a few more minutes. “I worry about you.”

  “Well you don’t need to.”

  And he calls Mom the stubborn one.

  “If anyone should be worried, it’s your old man. My baby girl is off on her own in a big city, hanging out with rock stars and working for scandalous people.”

  I burst out laughing. “The rock stars are harmless.”

  “And what about your employer?” He pauses. “You don’t have to put on a front for me, Jules. Are you sure everything’s okay? I’ve been following the news over there.”

  “It doesn’t involve me,” I lie. “I’m just keeping my head down and doing my job.”

  Several seconds sneak by, and Dad breaks it with another cough. “Chris called me. He’s got it in his head that you’re involved with your boss.”

  My heart sinks to the bottom of my gut. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” There’s no hiding the tremor in my vocal cords. I’ve always been a horrible liar, and the last person I want to be dishonest with is my dad. But I can’t explain everything to him right now, especially over the phone.

  A knock sounds on the door, and I send a silent prayer up to the gods of perfect timing. “Someone’s here, so I’m going to let you go. I hope you feel better soon.”