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  Her hair spread about her head, eyes looking up into his face, lips parted just so, glossy and still swollen from sucking his cock—so fucking beautiful and desirable his chest hurt just looking at her.

  “Arms above your head, grab the headboard.” Smiling, he took in her reaction as she did it. Her breasts hitched up, her back arched and her eyelids dropped to half-mast. Ah, she liked being dominated. Good, he liked dominating her.

  The room was quiet but for the wet sounds of cock meeting pussy and her soft sighs and whimpers. Oranges and purples colored the walls and her skin as the sun began to set.

  Each piston of his hips sent his cock deeper into her body, building, building his orgasm from the top of his head to the soles of his feet.

  Her bottom lip caught between her teeth and a pretty flush began to pinken her skin.

  “Dahlia, make yourself come. I want to feel your pussy come around my cock.”

  * * *

  Oh, how she loved a man who knew what he was about in the bedroom! Even more, a confident, dirty-talking man with an edge of dominance. Yum.

  “Can I move my hand?”

  Leaning down, he nipped her bottom lip. “Yes.”

  Bringing her hand to her lips, she wet her fingers and he groaned. The deep sound echoed through her body. Her hand slid, slowly, down her body to her pussy. Knowing he was watching her thrilled her right to her toes.

  Her clit was a hard knot beneath her fingers. Reaching down to where they were joined, she brought more lube upward, slowly circling it, a soft sigh coming from her lips.

  “Does that feel good, Dahlia?”

  His gaze didn’t give her any room to deny or ignore the question.

  “Yes.”

  “It does indeed. Your pussy is hot and greedy, Dahlia. Every time I pull out, it grabs me and sucks me back in. It feels so good. Tastes good, too, soft and wet. I can’t wait to taste you again.”

  Words failed so she just nodded enthusiastically. Hell, yes, she wanted that, too.

  A razor-thin space held her back from climax. It threatened just behind a wall of time, and, with a moan of pleasure, it burst through her, blinding her to anything but the two of them—his hands holding her open to his thrusts, her fingers playing against her clit, the smell of sex hanging in the air and the weight of his body over her own. Coming always felt so immense when a cock filled her pussy, made her feel just slightly out of control. And as a woman who put a high premium on control, such moments meant all the more.

  “Damn, that feels good,” he whispered just as she felt the first jerk of his cock, climax bowing his back as he made one last, deep press into her pussy and held himself there for long moments.

  Watching him above her, a slow bead of sweat rolled down his neck. Utterly unable to resist, she leaned up and licked from shoulder to earlobe, tasting the salt of his skin.

  He sighed, rolling to the side and dealing with the condom. Moments later he was back, pulling her against him while they caught their breath.

  The doorbell rang and she got out of bed, grabbing a robe near the door. Snorting, he pulled his jeans on quicker and moved past her. “You think I’m gonna let some punk of a pizza guy see you nearly naked? Uh-uh, that’s my special treat.”

  “There’s a twenty near the door!” she called out as he left the room and she headed to the bathroom.

  She emerged to find him laying out plates at her table. The smell of a fully loaded pizza wafted through the air, mixing in a very wonderful way with sex. Pizza, Nash and hot sex? A very nice combo. If there’d been chocolate involved it would have officially been Nirvana.

  “What are you thinking about? That’s one wicked grin you’ve got there.” He laid two pieces of the pie on her plate and then on his own. “And I quite like that you’re a super combination pizza sort of woman.”

  “Why is that?” Taking a bite, she closed her eyes, savoring the taste.

  “You’re a woman of voracious appetites. I like that. Lush, carnal, intellectual, funny and not afraid to eat. That’s really rare these days.”

  Opening her eyes, she cocked her head, watching him. “You give wonderful compliments, Nash.”

  Pausing, he smiled. “Thank you. I meant it. I love unique things—you’re one of a kind.”

  His words felt cuttingly familiar. “Like a ’54 ’Vette? Where do I fit in your collection?”

  She’d been there before, and there was no way she’d go back again.

  Putting down his pizza, he took her wrist, pulling her against his body. “Is that what you think? That’s pretty unfair, Dahlia. I meant it as a compliment. You’re not something I collect, nor have I given you reason to think so.”

  Looking into his eyes, she believed the hurt in his voice and realized he was right. He had been good to her. Nothing like Warner. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just an old wound, I suppose.”

  Nodding, he kissed the tip of her nose and let her go. “Apology accepted. But someday I’d like to hear that story. The one my comments brought back for you.”

  Waving it away, she shook her head. “Some things are best left in the past. But for tonight, I have some movies I rented. Do you have the time?”

  “Absolutely, and I’d love to spend it with you.”

  Grinning, she walked into the living room and put her plate down. Moving to the TV she saw the money still on the table near the door. Picking it up, she turned to him. “You forgot this.”

  He rolled his eyes. “No, I didn’t. You made dinner last time. I got the pizza. It’s only fair.”

  Narrowing her eyes at him a moment, she shrugged, putting the twenty into a little container on the shelf near the door. “Thank you.”

  Settling on the couch, they watched the first hour of a sci-fi movie before the kissing got too hot and heavy and they’d fallen to the carpet in a mess of writhing, tangled limbs.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Nash was sure he’d never had a better time than the night he spent with Dahlia at her tiny apartment drinking beer, eating pizza and having the best sex of his life.

  Damn, the woman was a firecracker. Sexy as all get-out, smart, passionate, talented in the kitchen and onstage. But wounded. There was a hesitation in her when it came to his intentions. It stung, he had to admit to himself. He wanted her to trust him. At the same time, that vulnerability did something to him, made her all the more appealing, and he wanted to prove himself to her. Let her know she could trust his motives.

  Tenderness came over him when he remembered the shy hesitation in her voice as she’d asked him to sleep over. They’d made love the third time and lay in an exhausted heap on her living room floor, and she’d whispered it so sweetly.

  Did he want to wake up next to her sleep-warm body and slowly slide his cock into her pussy? Was that a rhetorical question?

  And he had woken up with her ass snuggled up into the cradle of his hips, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Slowly, he traced circles around her nipple while the other hand slid between her thighs.

  She awoke on a gasp as climax unleashed within her and he’d kicked off the best Saturday morning he’d ever had.

  That’d been two weeks before and they’d now officially been dating a month. He’d seen her every chance he got, working around both their busy schedules to spend as much time as possible together.

  Naturally, the first thing he did when he returned to town from a trip was head to see her. Which was why he sat there at The Dollhouse, watching Dahlia’s last set of the evening.

  She currently had hold of the strands of pearls lining the wall behind the stage, her ass thrust out, swaying from side to side. Fishnet stockings adorned her legs, giving a flash of skin between upper thigh and the sweet cheeks of her ass peeking from the ruffled boy-short bottoms she wore.

  Leaning out, she twisted her body and turned, inserting herself between the wall and the pearls, covering her breasts.

  A smile curved his lips at the coy, kittenish look she wore while she slowly slid to th
e stage into the splits. Quickly, she snatched up the tie she’d worn with the dress shirt and tuxedo pants already discarded and slid it over her breasts, arching into the silk material.

  Goddamn, the woman was hot. Looking around, Nash saw the same mesmerized look on every male and many a female face he could see.

  Turning back to her, he caught the look. The look that made his cock hard as granite. Lowered lashes and the bottom lip caught between her teeth. Only he’d seen it directed at him with genuine heat behind it. If she ever really figured out how much erotic power she had, she’d take over the world in a week.

  Step, click, step, click, she headed up the stairs to the dressing rooms in very tall heels for a woman who’d just danced her ass off with athleticism and grace.

  A look back over her shoulder as she put the tie on over her head, her bare back to the audience. A blown kiss and she was gone.

  With a satisfied sigh he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Hell, he needed to smoke a cigarette, she was so good.

  “How is she in bed?”

  Cold water thrown over his very hot Dahlia fantasy, Nash opened his eyes to see Lara Warner, a woman he’d had a brief relationship with at the beginning of the year, standing over him. The elegance of her impeccable designer ensemble stood in direct contrast to the sneer she wore on her face.

  “That’s none of your business, Lara. It’s also vulgar of you to ask.”

  “Vulgar? Like fucking a stripper? For God’s sake, Nash, have some class. We all bring clients here for some entertainment, but these women aren’t for relationships. It’s all over town that you’re having a fling with this stripper. Don’t think she’s something special, Nash. And don’t forget what your place is. Or hers. She’s nothing special. Don’t let some cheap slut cloud your mind.”

  He sighed. “I don’t owe you an explanation. My place, or, for that matter, anyone else’s, is none of your business.” Standing, he moved past her. “Have a nice night, Lara.”

  He didn’t want Dahlia to hear any of Lara’s jealous bullshit. He knew it would hurt her. She was sensitive enough about that kind of thing. Not for the first time, Nash wondered what the story was. He knew Lara’s—ex-husband, a former business associate of Nash’s, was a philandering asshole. Clearly, Lara’s view of relationships had been skewed by that.

  Frustrated, he walked back into the hallway where William’s office was.

  The entrance to the dressing rooms was also at the end of the hall. He knew which one he preferred, but there were other women back there in various stages of undress, so he waited for her, sipping his drink, trying to let go of that nasty scene with Lara.

  Ten minutes later she walked out, smiling as she caught sight of him. He’d been in L.A. for a few days and knowing she was happy to see him affected him.

  Without a word, he opened the door to the back hallway of the club leading to the extra liquor and the other supplies. Catching the look in his eye, she opened her mouth to object but he shook his head and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her inside. Darkness fell upon them, cool and quiet as he shut the door.

  His lips met hers as he swung her body to the wall behind them, his arm around her waist taking the impact. A soft sound of arousal left her lips and he swallowed it greedily.

  His tongue hunted hers, possessing her mouth as his hands found the hem of her skirt, reversing and pulling it up, baring her thighs and the tiny G-string panties she wore. Pulling the material to the side, his fingers found her already slick.

  Her hands tore at his belt, getting it undone along with the button and zipper of his trousers, freeing his cock as it spilled hot and ready into her grasp.

  He let go of her long enough to roll on the condom he’d readied while he waited for her outside.

  “Lift your leg over my hip and put my cock into your pussy,” he whispered into her ear and she whimpered with barely leashed desire.

  An athletic thigh wrapped around his waist as she braced her back and guided him to her gate. Easing her body down, she took him into herself, slowly, so slowly.

  Too slowly—he needed her right then.

  Moving his hands to her waist, he flexed his hips upward and thrust into her to the hilt, filling her completely.

  Fucking into her body, he found her ear again. “Anyone could walk in at any moment, Dahlia. Don’t make a sound. Or…would you like that, baby? If the bartender saw us, saw your pretty pussy bared with my cock deep inside it? Do you think he’d be hard afterward? Would he imagine you as he slid a fist around his cock later tonight? I bet he does anyway, after watching you onstage. I know I do.”

  A strangled moan muffled in her throat as he smiled against her earlobe. His woman had an exhibitionistic streak—that much he knew from watching her onstage—but the idea of being caught really did it for her, too. He felt the heated silk of her honey as it nearly scalded his balls.

  It made him want to push her boundaries to see just what else she liked. God knew he liked that the idea of being walked in on made her pussy cream. Loved the thrill of turning her on. He’d just done it because he could not last another moment without fucking her after seeing that last set. But now that he knew another thing that flipped her switch, he planned to keep it up.

  “Finger your pussy for me, Dahlia. You know how much I love to feel you come around my cock.” He loved to watch her, to feel her make herself come for him. The contractions of her inner muscles usually pushed him right over the edge after her.

  A soft sigh came from her as she moved her hand between them. He ground himself into her, adding to the friction she gave herself. Her breath gasped in his ear. He knew it wouldn’t be much longer for her and within moments her breathing hitched and a soft cry came from her as she began to come. With mindless pleasure buffeting him, he continued to hammer her body with his own.

  In the darkness of the hallway he found his own pleasure as stars lit his eyelids and her name whispered from his lips. He set her down gently and kissed her. “You’re so amazing,” he murmured into her ear, loving the way his compliment made her lean into him a moment.

  When she let him in that little bit, opening her heart as well as her body, it touched him deeply. True, they had amazing sexual chemistry and she was scorching hot in bed, but in some ways, she hesitated to fully embrace the whole of her sexuality.

  As he’d gotten to know her over the past months, watched her react to things, learned her triggers and some of her vulnerabilities, Nash believed a big part of it was other people’s perceptions of her because of how she looked.

  She seemed to struggle with her own power as an amazingly sensual and beautiful woman. That vulnerability was what enabled him to stay with her, push her to let him in. He didn’t walk away from her when she was prickly and difficult because she was worth staying for. The woman beneath her armor appealed to him on every level.

  It should have frightened him, freaked him out. He’d always run from feeling deeply, kept himself with women he supposed he felt weren’t worthy of him. And he guessed that didn’t say much of what he thought he was worth, either. Instead, Dahlia Baker made him put in the time and effort because she was worth it and so was he.

  Smiling, he turned back to her after he checked to make sure the outer hallway was clear.

  * * *

  Dahlia set herself to rights, smoothing her dress back down and finger-combing her hair as he gave a quick look to be sure no one was outside.

  Her hands shook, her knees were rubbery. Nash Emery had just given her what was undoubtedly the hottest five minutes of her life. That bit about being caught had taken her by surprise, but his naughty words in her ear painting that vision had seared straight to her core.

  He had a way of exposing her deepest desires and fantasies that was terribly alluring. But also frightening. Letting someone know her that well made her feel stripped. Stripped of pretense. Stripped of defenses. Naked and open. She’d have to let go of the way she’d believed things were, and that was
a risk.

  Blowing out her anxiety, she exited the room quickly when he gave her the all clear and they headed out the side door of the club and they walked through the casino.

  Halfway out, Nash turned to her, pulling her body tightly against his own. She didn’t fail to notice the woman who’d just come out of The Dollhouse giving them a dirty look. Or Nash’s response, a raised eyebrow before giving his attention back to Dahlia.

  Lara Warner. Dahlia tried to push the memories back, the memories of those six months she had worked for Bill Warner back when she’d been an undergrad. First, he’d been so helpful, mentoring her. But then he’d started to come on to her. It had been subtle at first, and because Dahlia had trusted him, she’d let it go further than it should have. She hadn’t done anything with him but she ignored it too long. The last straw was when he’d backed her into a corner in his office and stuck his hand up her skirt.

  The ugly things he’d said to her after she’d shoved him away and told him off still rang in her ears from time to time. Those things had made it difficult to get another office job after that. Lara Warner had been only too gleeful to blame her husband’s behavior on Dahlia.

  And since The Dollhouse was a magnet for the rich and fabulous, women like Lara Warner haunted it and Dahlia had been unable to avoid her.

  No matter how smart, no matter how professional she was, people always took one look at her tits and decided she was a whore. But she wouldn’t let assholes like Warner and his ex-wife stop her from achieving her dreams.

  Shoving those thoughts away, she turned her attention back to Nash, tracing a finger over his bottom lip. Her pussy flooded when he sucked her fingertip into his mouth, closing his eyes a moment.

  “Mmm. Tastes like your pussy,” he murmured, and she shivered.

  He kissed her hard and fast before asking if she minded him playing a few hands of blackjack. Shaking her head, they walked hand in hand to the door that led to the high-roller tables.