Filthy Devil (Dark Horse MC #6)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

JAMES

Stretching, I roll to the side and whimper. To say that I’m sore is a complete understatement. I hurt from hair to toes, and my lips curve up into a smirk because I like it. A lot. In fact, I wish I could be this sore all the time. I’ve never felt so at peace as I do with this man.

Being with him, being his. If you had told me just a few weeks ago that I would be where I am now, I would have called you a liar. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would not only be here but also be happy. And I am. So damn happy I can hardly breathe.

Sitting up, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and stand, moaning as I stretch my sore muscles. I grin and let out a heavy sigh. Not for any other reason than I feel absolutely amazing.

I haven’t explored this place at all. The bedroom is bigger than just a regular-sized room, and there are three closed doors and an ajar closet door. Frowning, I can’t help but wonder what these doors lead to.

One is the way in and out. I know that. One is probably a bathroom door, but what is the third? Biting the inside of my cheek, I move toward the door that I am sure is the bathroom, and thankfully, it is.

Slipping inside, I take care of business. As I’m washing my hands, I start to look at my reflection in the mirror, but before I do, I take in the mirror itself, or rather its framing. Thick, deep, dark wood that matches this whole aesthetic.

Flicking my gaze around to the rest of the small space, I notice that the walls are a midnight blue, almost black. It’s so dark. The towels are light gray, and the shower is white with deep-gray veining.

God.

It’s spectacular.

I’m still completely shocked that he’s done all of this himself. My flabber is ghasted. I would have guessed that a woman did it, at the least, at the most, an interior decorator. When I’m finished taking in the whole room and being shocked as shit, my eyes drift back to the mirror.

I take in my face. And my neck. Tilting my head back slightly, I take in my throat. There are red marks where his fingers were last night and this morning. I loved it, too. I also love the sight of them on my skin.

I want more… everywhere. And I’ve never been into anything like this before, not that I’ve really been with someone like Nash before, but still. I didn’t know that people liked these things, that someone could enjoy the bite of pain.

I’d read about it before, of course, but I didn’t think that someone like me could like it… maybe even need it. Crave it. I leave the bathroom and head back into the bedroom. The bed is likely still warm from my body and seems extremely inviting, but my curiosity over that third door calls to me more than a comfy bed.

One step, then another, and finally, I reach out for the handle. Slowly, I turn the knob, then gently tug it open. Before I can see anything, I hear a voice. It’s a voice I recognize… well.

Opening the door completely, I find an office. Frowning, my gaze lifts to the desk a few feet away, and I see Nash sitting behind it. Blinking, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. “Do you have a secret door from your office to your bedroom?” I ask.

His gaze lifts as he turns his head to face me. I don’t know if anyone else is in the office, and I’m not sure if I care. I’m standing in the doorway wearing his T-shirt and nothing else. His lips curve up into a smile, and he shakes his head once.

“I do. Good mornin’, sweetheart.”

“Wow,” I breathe. “I didn’t imagine that’s what this door led to.”

He shrugs a shoulder, turning his body to face me. I can’t see below his waist with him behind his desk. He leans back in his office chair, his eyes searching mine for a moment. They sparkle, and I know that means he’s happy, or maybe it’s because he finds me amusing.

I’m not sure.

Furthermore, I’m not sure I care.

I just love it—the way he looks at me.

“Nash,” I whisper.

“Come over here, James.”

My feet shuffle forward. Moving farther into the room, I look over to the left and notice that we’re alone and the door is closed. Rounding the desk, I stand in front of him, feeling awkward as hell. I should have showered and put some clothes on for the day before I went exploring.

Nash reaches out, gripping my hips with his fingers before he gently jerks me forward. He doesn’t have to ask me anything. I’m primed and ready for him. I woke up that way. Sore from this morning, yet ready for more.

I climb onto his lap, my knees digging into the cushion of the chair on either side of his thighs. His fingers release my hips and grasp ahold of the backs of my thighs before he slides them up to cup my ass cheeks.

Letting out a whimper, I look into his eyes, silently begging for more. Always more. I cannot get enough of him.

“We’re in a fantasy right now. Once you’re no longer locked up here for your protection, you may not feel this way any longer.”

Leaning forward, I rest my forehead against his before I speak. “I’m not manipulating you, Nash. I thought that was my only play, so I was ready to play it.”

“It’s not your only play any longer?”

Lifting my head, I look into his eyes, searching his gaze. I can tell he doesn’t even like the question he just asked, but he needs the answer. Although I feel like I’ve said it over and over.

“There’s no need to play a game when the reality is this sweet.”

He grunts but doesn’t respond to my words, at least not verbally. Instead, his hands slide around to the front of my waist and his fingers gently glide up the center of my torso, sending chills of desire up my spine before those same fingers curl around my breasts.

I arch my back slightly, and my head falls between my shoulders. Then I feel his lips against the center of my throat before his tongue slides along my flesh. Straightening my head, I look into his eyes.

“I would say you’re about right. This is sweet as fuck, isn’t it?”

My lips curve up into a small smile. “Yeah, baby. It sure is.”

NASH

Releasing one of her breasts, I slip my hand between us. I can’t look away from her, even if I wanted to. There is nowhere else in this whole fucking world I’d rather look. I’m going to take in every goddamn second until she leaves me.

Because she will leave.

There is no way around it. She won’t stay here with me. I might not look like I’m old, but I fucking am. I know I’m at the point in my life where I’m decaying on the inside, and soon, she’ll see it as much as the truth. As a fact and as a reality.

She’s got her whole fucking life ahead of her, and I won’t last another thirty years. But while I have her, I’m going to enjoy every single part of her that she’s offering me. Her smile, her eyes, and her beautiful body.

James rides my fingers, searching for the release that she knows I can give her quickly. Her breath hitches, her hands flying to my shoulders and her nails digging into my cut at my shoulders.

I watch as she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, her eyes focused on mine and nowhere else. I am her fucking world, and even though she doesn’t know it, she’s mine. Gliding my fingers through her folds, I feel her wetness coat my hand. She’s hot and wet, ready for more.

“Please, Nash. I’m so close.”

I smirk. Yeah, she’s close. I can see it in her half-closed eyes, hear it in her breathing, and smell it permeating from her cunt. Before I realize what’s happening, her hands are between us, tugging on my belt, then my jeans, and she frees me.

James lifts onto her knees, and I know what she wants. “You want your man inside of you?” I ask.

“God, yes,” she moans. “Filling me.”

And I give her exactly what she wants. Aligning her with the head of my cock, I watch as she sinks down along my length. My fingers find their way to her hips again, gripping her there and keeping her fully seated on my cock.

“Stay still,” I gently warn.

“I need to move,” she whimpers.

I’m sure she does. I’m sure she feels the need to move a whole hell of a lot. But I don’t let her. Keeping her still, I look into her eyes. She begins to pant, her eyes wide and wild as she watches me.

She was close to her release before she sank down on my dick. She leans forward, her hands cupping my cheeks as she does, and then I feel her breath fan my face. She slides her hands to the back of my neck, and even though I told her to keep still, she doesn’t.

Her hips begin to rock back and forth, her breathing becoming heavier and heavier with each shift. The muscles in her arms begin to tremble. She’s climbing closer and closer as she continues to move. I can see the concentration on her face.

Sucking in a breath, she holds it as she moans, and then she lifts almost completely off me before she slams down—hard. When she comes, it’s on a whimper. Her eyes search mine. Her breath hitches, and every fucking muscle in her body tenses.

“Don’t stop now, sweetheart,” I urge.

Thank fuck, that gets her moving. Because I’m close to coming as well. Her hips buck, her back arches, but her fingers continue to grip the back of my neck as she rides me. It’s a fucking beautiful sight.

And that’s when I come.

Hard.

Goddamn, I see stars. She collapses on top of me, burying her face in my neck as she catches her breath. Lifting my hands, I run my fingers through her hair. Keeping her close to me.

“I have to run down to the club today and then check on a couple other things. You’ll be good here alone?” I ask.

She lifts her head, her eyes finding mine, and I watch as her brows knit together in a frown. “Where are you going?”

I should tell her it’s none of her fucking business, but I can see the uncertainty in her eyes. Clearing my throat, I give her as much information as I can. A club of old fucks that should be retired or not, we’re still a working club, and some things are club business.

“I have to go to the strip club and then run a couple of errands. Is there anything you need while I’m out?”

This is a first. This is the first time in my entire life I'm asking a woman if she needs anything from the store. I’ve heard my son ask Shawn. Hell, I’ve asked Shawn when I’m visiting. But I’ve never been with a woman in any capacity that I would have a reason to ask her.

Until now.

I’m so fucking gone for this woman.