What the hell had just happened? A sizzle crackled through Justice’s nerve endings. One kiss had her body hotter than an inferno. Either she’d gone far too long without sex, or Dash Wilde was that damn good.
She suspected the latter as she circumvented the maze of black tables and chairs. At the heart of the dark interior stood the bar. On the far end, a woman performed a slow striptease for a trio of men.
Warmth hissed through her veins. “Charby Vodka. Straight up.” She signaled the short, gray-haired bartender.
Light gleamed off the rows of bottles packed into the two cases behind the man. The mirror reflected a dark-haired woman bent over a table, her skirt shoved above her bare ass while a hard-bodied young man fucked her from behind.
“Make it a double.” She swallowed hard. The sight of sexual exhibition had turned from a shock to a turn on. Her drink arrived and she downed half. The clear liquid burned down her throat.
Scratch The Last Resort as a reception site. She was worse off than when she’d arrived. Besides lacking a location for Charlene Dawson and therefore the source of her brother’s tuition money, now her sex-starved hormones had awoken with a vengeance.
The smoky air pressed against her bare arms and legs. Without looking, she knew Dash was close by.
“I see you’ve passed by the requisite glass of wine to what you really want.” Dash stood beside her and nodded toward the bartender.
Her mouth went dry, but she held on to her poise. “After the display of familiarity in the ball room,” and even more the kiss, “I thought we were past formalities.”
“But we aren’t familiar, yet.” Dash accepted a crystal tumbler with a healthy shot of Jameson Distillery Reserve. He sipped the Irish whiskey.
Mesmerized how his lips curved around the rim of the glass she stared. Muscles from his strong jaw to his throat rippled as he swallowed. An undefined raw undertone ran beneath the poised motions. She reached for a steadying shot of her drink.
“Join me.” He directed her to a small covered table in a corner secluded by darkness and palm fronds.
Desire clashed with duty. Before her mind had decided, her feet followed. Annoyed with herself, she maintained her composure and slipped into the leather booth. Dash moved in behind her.
Heat radiated from his body and bathed her skin like the summer sun. Wetness collected between her legs. She shifted. “One kiss won’t make me fall into bed with you.”
“I don’t mind giving you a second.” He leaned closer.
Warm, moist breath tickled her earlobe. Trapped between his body and the deep green wall, she shivered. She’d never had a one-night stand or blown off work, both of which she was on the verge of doing. “I need to finish some work.”
“What about your needs?” he whispered.
The gravelly smooth bedroom voice sent bursts of desire from the tips of her breasts to her pussy.
His solid chest pressed against her shoulder. “Your desires?”
She inhaled a quivering breath. If she tumbled from grace, Dash Wilde’s bed sounded like the perfect place to land. “Are you offering fulfillment?”
He replied with a brush of strong fingers over her knee.
Nerves from the top of her thigh to her inner walls jerked as he slipped his hand under the hem of her skirt. She glared at Dash, who continued to slide his hand higher.
“Wandering men aren’t my type.”
A deep chuckle and flicker of his lips confirmed her suspicions of another side beneath his polished exterior.
“Perhaps I’m embracing the local German culture’s love of wanderlust?” He stroked the edge of the panties framing her sex. “But I’d rather embrace you.”
“We’re in public.” Her voice trembled as much as her pussy.
“Do you think anyone will notice?” He nodded toward a naked woman sitting atop the bar with a man’s head buried between her spread legs, licking her cunt.
Justice shivered as he stroked the inside of her thigh. Images of Dash’s tongue licking her hot, wet folds sparked in her brain.
“No one can see.”
She glanced down at the long black tablecloth.
“Your needs.” He slid an arm around her shoulders while his other hand brushed the silk panel over her damp curls.
Air rushed from her lungs. The aroma of whiskey and sweet campfire smoke replaced the oxygen. She had a ton of work and too much riding on Charlene Dawson’s contract.
Dash wiggled a finger beneath the fabric.
Nothing would get accomplished tonight, she reasoned.
He traced the seam of her outer lips.
She gripped the table edge. A moan rolled from her core and up her throat. The bar patrons blurred.
The tip of his finger dipped inside her folds. “You’re already wet.” He pulled his hand away.
Before she cried out for more, he raised the digit to his mouth, eyes closed as he sucked her juices from his flesh as though sampling a gourmet meal. A burst of hot desire squeezed her walls tight. “Dash—”
“Your body knows what it wants.” He returned his hand to her pussy and massaged the hood of her clit.
She couldn’t stop the hard jerk of her hips against him. Sweat ran down her neck. She wanted more. Needed more.
“How long since a man brought you to orgasm?” He circled her opening. “Had his hands on your pussy?” He bit down on her earlobe.
She ground her aching cunt against the ridges of his hard knuckles, anything to relieve the pressure growing in her womb.
“Since someone’s sucked your clit?” He flicked the sensitive nub.
“Ahhhhhh.” Jolts rocked the tiny bundle of nerves. She gripped the table as aftershocks shook her muscles. The torment sat on the fine edge between pain and pleasure.
Her mind was too lost to answer his questions. She spread her legs wider, urging him farther in.
“How much time since a hard cock filled your tight pussy and fucked you until you screamed?”
Two long fingers plunged into her channel. Her walls clutched the long digits.
“How long?” He pulled back until only the very tips remained inside her pussy.
A wail of frustration nearly ripped free of her throat. Panting, she forced her brain to remember. “Put it this way,” she twisted her neck and nipped at his jaw, “the drought’s gone on so long the Red Cross setup an emergency tent.”
He chuckled and thrust back inside. “No wonder you’re so tight,” he murmured.
“Yes.” She pinched her lower lip between her teeth. Letting a man get her off in public was decadent and selfish, and at the moment she didn’t care. “More.”
He added a third digit. It was like being fucked with a short, thick cock. Forgotten muscles and tissues stretched accommodating his welcome intrusion.
“You came here for this.” He thrust deeper. “You want freedom to explore your passion.”
His words didn’t make sense, but she didn’t care. He could sing the ABCs so long as he used his rough bedroom voice.
“No one knows how wet you are.” His free hand stroked along her neck.
She moaned. Sweat beaded on her skin. The backs of her thighs stuck to the leather seat. Each shift brought a lush sting of flesh peeling away from the material.
“No one knows I’ve got my fingers inside you right now making you even wetter.”
The pressure around her walls tightened. She was so close.
“They can’t feel your pussy squeeze with every stroke.” He traced the tip of his tongue along her ear.
“Dash,” she whimpered. Much more torment, and she’d cross the permanent bridge into insanity. The first fuzzy tingles of orgasm started in her belly. Still, the man beside her didn’t relent.
“They can’t see your hips grinding your clit against my hand.”
Right then she wished she had his cock, but she couldn’t find the energy to say so. Rules, composure, everything but Dash and the sensations he kindled from her body went up in smoke.
“They don’t know how slick your juices feel running over my fingers.”
“Close, so close,” she mumbled. She rubbed the right side of her body along his solid torso. The friction of their clothing against her breast only made her need for contact with his flesh more.
“Come in my hand,” he growled.
A thumb pressed on her clit. She pitched forward and gripped his forearm.
“That’s right.” He continued thrusting. “Pour all your sweet cream into my hand.”
The spiral of heat inside her exploded. She cried out as her orgasm overtook her. Muscles clenched all at once.
Rocking against his hand, she rode the climax to its peak. Moisture poured from her channel, washing over his fingers. Red and gold sparks popped behind her closed eyes.
Justice leaned her limp body into Dash’s. Slowly her mind returned. Her problems hadn’t disappeared, but her tension had certainly eased. “Your customer service is first rate.” She winked.
Dash smiled. “It’s our pleasure.”
“No, the pleasure was definitely mine.” Too spent to move, she allowed him to readjust her panties and skirt.
“Fulfilling our customers’ desires is our priority.” He pulled a small circular case from his pocket.
The object looked like a pocket watch, but the golden lid blocked her view. Creases lined his forehead. “Problem?”
His lightning blue gaze snapped up. “Everything is back to normal.”
“If normal is a man kneeling on the bar while a woman gives him a blow job.” She sipped her abandoned drink.
A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest.
The sound sent a lush shiver down her spine. Strong arms, long, talented fingers, and a square jaw: Dash was her type of man. He had the right personality: quick wit, social poise, and a hard edge beneath. Damn if her timing in meeting him wasn’t wrong.
The bell captain, Robert, approached their table. He gave her a smile before whispering in Dash’s ear.
She couldn’t hear the words, but by the hardness spreading over Dash’s face and his narrowed eyes, the information wasn’t good. He murmed a reply.
Robert snapped straight and made a beeline for the frosted bar doors.
Dash turned toward her. “It appears there’s a problem—”
“I can guess—No, actually I probably can’t.” She took another drink. This was good. No awkward conversation and no temptation to extend her craziness and take a tour of one of the rooms. Still, the pull to stay tugged harder.
She couldn’t. “Go.” She waved her hand, using all her self discipline to do so.
Dash rose, his jaw set. “Enjoy the rest of your stay.” Hard words squeezed out between his thinned lips as he wheeled.
“No, I—” didn’t mean it like that. She sighed. “Great.”
The doors swung open and golden light from the lobby invaded the shadowed interior. Her gaze slid toward the brightness, half hoping to find Dash Wilde’s tall figure striding back through the swirls of smoke.
Instead, the arrogant football player from the ballroom entered and headed for her. Oh shit. Her pulse beat faster.
“Baby, I’ve been waitin’ to get you all night,” he drawled and slid into the booth trapping her.
“I’d hate to break your streak.” She glared, ready to climb over the table if needed.
Dash snapped his fingers and the blood vanished from the lobby floor. Cleaning up others’ messes heated his boiling blood. He’d gotten Justice Malloy off, controlled her body, and yet had been dismissed like a powerless servant.
Footfalls echoed across the marble floor.
He recognized his bell captain’s uneven gate. “Has the guest been secured?”
“Yes, sir.”
Another snap and the splintered table in the main hallway flew back together. “Good.” Every gathering, one or more soulless went too far. Providing the damned with their final indulgences included everything except harming a wanton.
“Make sure that bloody son of a bitch stays in dungeon—” His accent had slipped out. He clenched his teeth.
“Yes, sir.” Robert remained.
“Something else?” He glared in the bell captain’s direction.
“Mr. Wilde, are you sure it’s a good idea leaving the lady in there alone?” Robert nodded toward the bar.
Dash didn’t need to ask which lady as he stalked to the front desk. “She’s just like everyone else here,” he growled.
The moral compass had indicated lust by the narrowest of margins, but her brush off showed her true colors. Rich. Spoiled. A selfish bastard, like him.
“She’s different.” Robert shook his head.
He stopped. Never had the man dared argue. “Since when do you like women?” His eyes burned as he stared at his female-hating bell captain.
“I don’t.” He bristled.
“She’s here for sex.” Let someone serve her wants. He clenched his fists at the thought.
What did he care what or who Justice did so long as she never learned the secret of The Last Resort.
He didn’t have time to babysit. He had guests to see to, or rather see they didn’t tear the hotel apart.
A piercing scream ripped from inside the bar.
He didn’t need two centuries’ experience to differentiate the sharp cries of pleasure and terror.
Dash’s heart stopped. He knew the feminine voice without question.
Fuck.
He shot toward the bar. Once more his anger and selfish hurt had put someone innocent at risk. He just hoped this time his selfishness hadn’t cost Justice her life.
Adrenaline pumped through his limbs. He had to stop the incident before the other damned descended like sharks. He slammed the bar door, shattering the glass.
In two seconds, he found Justice. The bastard football player had her trapped in a corner. She put up a hell of a fight, but her strength was no match.
Anger seared his muscles. He shot forward, shoving aside anyone in his path. “Let go,” he growled and grabbed the back of the man’s collar. He yanked him out of the booth.
The asshole spun around and swung.
A fist caught Dash on the jaw. Pain exploded over the right side of his face as his head snapped the opposite direction. Someone screamed.
“That’s what you get.” The man stuck his thick face in Dash’s. “You touch me again, and I’ll—”
“Wrong choice, boy-o.” Dash threw a punch to his opponent’s head.
The man staggered, but didn’t fall.
His shirt was pulled tight as the football player jerked him forward. Rage drove his fist into his opponent’s gut and sent the athlete flying backward.
The victory was short lived.
The man charged, slamming Dash into the wood paneling. Pain exploded in the back of his head and down his spine.
“Do you know who I am?” the football player shouted.
Flecks of saliva spattered Dash.
“Nobody puts their hands on me,” he shouted, and reached for Justice.
Dash launched his body forward, and his shoulder into the arrogant bastard’s stomach. “Run.” He spared a single quick glance at Justice.
He threw the man across the tabletops. Glass crashed. Patrons screamed. Fire spread through his insides faster than ever. A half a dozen more jabs were rewarded with a sharp crack of a nose breaking. He didn’t let up.
As much as he hated the son of a bitch, he hated himself more. The compass said Justice didn’t belong, but he hadn’t believed it. It was his fault the motherfucker had gotten his hands on her. He threw a knuckle bruising punch to the kidney. Groaning the man doubled over.
Robert burst through the remains of the bar doors.
“Lock him up, now.” Dash shoved the bloody athlete toward the bell captain.
The bar patrons remained frozen, staring.
“Everything’s fine.” He snapped his fingers and the broken room returned to its former state.
At the change, people returned to their drinks and sex.
As he headed out, he noted his glowing red eyes in the bar mirror. Nothing he could do about them now.
Straightening his tie, he rushed through the door into the lobby. Justice headed for the door. Damn. He ignored the pain in his back and throbbing skull. “Wait.”
She glanced back and slowed a fraction.
“You can’t leave!” he shouted, and quickened his pace. He had to get to her before she headed for the door.
“Just watch me.” She sprinted for the entrance.
Dash stopped. Closing his eyes waited for the inevitable. Beyond the last set of columns, every step Justice Malloy took, the door drew farther and farther away.
“No!” She ran faster, never making any progress. “Let me out.” She whirled on him. Tears gleamed in her brown eyes. “I want to leave!”
Knots wound his shoulders. “You can’t.” He limped forward. “Not until midnight on Sunday.”
She shook her head. With her pale skin and curls she resembled a frightened child.
A long forgotten instinct to cradle her in his arms the way he had once soothed his two younger sisters awakened.
“No, I want to go now.” Her wide gaze swung between him to the door.
“I would if I could, but no one can.” He let out a breath.
“What do you mean?” She swallowed and calmed a fraction.
“This isn’t any ordinary hotel.”
“Where am I?” She skittered backward.
A trickle of blood dripped down his chin. He wiped it away and stared at the bright red streak on his hand. Justice’s face faded into those of his long-dead siblings.
His chest squeezed. He’d killed them with his selfish desire for revenge.
He sagged against the pillar. So caught up in protecting his lost soul, he’d almost cost a woman her life. Guilt burned from his stomach up his throat.
“What is this place?” She stalked up to him, her heels snapping on the marble.
Everything in his nature shouted for him to lie. He resisted and took a deep breath. He owed her the truth, even if the revelation ended his chances to regain his soul.
“Let me get this blood off and I’ll tell you.”