Play You: A Second Chance/Single Dad Romance (Rebel Ink Book 4) Page 7

10

  Piper

  The second the fresh air hits me, so does the whiskey. My head spins and my legs shake as Dawson guides me out onto the pavement and to an awaiting taxi.

  He steps forward, but it's not enough for me to miss his words.

  "I'll pay you triple if you don't look in your rearview mirror.”

  I swallow roughly as heat descends to my core.

  What the hell is he planning to do?

  The driver agrees, and in seconds I'm being ushered into the back while Dawson barks out my address as confidently as if it's his own.

  I've barely put my arse on the seat before he leans over me and pulls the seatbelt across my body.

  "I'm more than capable of doing that myself," I hiss as his knuckles brush over my nipple before he buckles it in.

  "I'm sure you are." His whiskey-scented breath caresses my lips and my mouth waters to get a taste of him.

  I want to demand he kisses me again, but I still remember the sting from his rejection inside the club. I don't need that again. Instead, I swallow the words and bite down on my bottom lip.

  His eyes focus on it, but he doesn't do anything. He just sits back and puts his own seatbelt on.

  "Can I have my phone back now?" I ask, holding my hand out impatiently.

  "No."

  "N-no?"

  He turns to me, his knee bumping into my thigh and his upper body shielding me from the driver.

  His eyes search mine for a beat before they drop to my lips. It's the first time he's given me any indication that he might want to kiss me, and I can't help the smile that pulls at the corners of my lips.

  I startle when his large palm lands on my bare thigh.

  The dress I'm wearing tonight isn't one that emerges from my wardrobe all that often, but Lisa was adamant that I had to wear it, and seeing as it's her night, I went along with her plan. I regretted it when Henry's eyes almost popped out of his head when we arrived at the restaurant. I'd felt naked and uncomfortable as he took in all my bare skin on show.

  "This dress," Dawson murmurs as if he can read my thoughts. "It shouldn't be allowed out in public." His finger trails down the low neckline and caresses the exposed swell of my breast, making my nipples pucker.

  Tucking his finger under the fabric, he exposes my left breast.

  "Dawson," I gasp, partly in shock, partly in desire.

  "Let's not pretend like you're all innocent." His fingertip flicks my nipple and a bolt of lust shoots straight to my core.

  My thighs tense and he smirks, clearly not missing the move.

  His thumb and forefinger pinch down on my peak and he twists, hard.

  I cry out before slamming my hand over my mouth when I remember where I am.

  "You n-need to stop," I beg.

  "Where would the fun be in that? How wet are you for me right now?" he asks, his dark eyes full of heat.

  I slam my lips shut and swallow.

  "Now's not the time to deny me, baby girl. You know I'll just have to find out for myself."

  "Like you wouldn't anyway." I narrow my eyes at him in challenge.

  "You're mine now, Piper. I know it, you know it. The taxi driver knows it. And at the first possible opportunity, the guy you were dancing with tonight is going to know it. You got that?"

  "Why? You hate me."

  "Because you owe me, remember?"

  He twists my nipple again, only harder this time, and I sink my teeth into my cheeks to stop from screaming.

  "Do you understand me?"

  I nod at him and he releases my burning nipple, but I don't get any reprieve because he lifts the already insanely short hem of my dress and peeks underneath.

  "Lift up."

  "What?" My heart pounds in my chest and my stomach tumbles. He's not really going to remove them, is he?

  "Lift, or I'll just rip them off."

  Holy shit. I'm amazed they're still there, because from the way he's looking at me, talking to me, touching me, I'm surprised they're not melted right off me.

  I shouldn't be turned on by his dirty words or his threats, but I am. More than I ever have been in my life.

  I should be running scared when he says he owns me, but instead, I'm falling further under his spell.

  He's going to ruin you, break you, and then spit you out, the little voice in my head warns, but I don't listen, I can't. I'm too lost in him.

  Both his tattooed hands disappear under the fabric, and before I have a chance to make a decision, my body acts on instinct and rises from the seat.

  "Good girl." He pulls my thong down my thighs before dropping it to my ankles and unhooking it from my shoes.

  "What are you... of course you are." I chuckle as he stuffs them in his pocket. "Memento?"

  "It's better than what you left me with last time."

  Regret swirls around me like a storm cloud, but no matter how much I might want to take back what happened, I can't.

  I have to embrace it, accept it, attempt to make up for it.

  I certainly didn't do it by choice. It was through necessity. If I didn't agree, Dad would have found me something much worse to do to earn my place at the club.

  A shudder runs through me at the thought.

  "I never—"

  "No," he barks, placing a finger over my lips. "I don't want to hear your apologies, your excuses. The time for talking and trying to explain is long gone. You had your chance to come clean, to tell me the truth, and you didn't. Now, I'm in control."

  His hand presses between my thighs and pushes them open.

  "Let's see just what a dirty little slut you are."

  "Oh shit." My head falls back in pleasure when his fingers connect with my sensitive, swollen flesh.

  "Oh," he all but laughs, a smirk pulling at his lips. "You like belonging to me, don't you, baby girl?"

  "Dawson," I breathe as he circles my clit before pushing lower and finding my entrance.

  "You like being at my mercy? Knowing that I can have you whenever, wherever I want you?"

  "Oh God," I whimper as he pushes a finger inside me.

  "He's not going to save you this time, baby."

  He pushes deeper, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. My release is already within reaching distance, despite the fact that he's barely touched me.

  He adds a second finger, stretching me wide and making the sensations even more intense. He curls them both, finding that sweet spot inside me that makes me sees stars, and he rubs at me as my muscles lock up with pleasure and my wetness drips down his fingers.

  “Dawson,” I whisper when I’m right on the edge, my body just ready to fly, to forget reality and just focus on the pleasure.

  But then… it’s gone.

  "What the—" My head flies forward, my eyes opening to find him grinning at me.

  Lifting his fingers, he pushes them past his lips and sucks.

  "Jesus, fuck, Dawson."

  "You taste too sweet for someone so bad."

  "Takes one to know one," I spit at him before ripping my eyes away and looking at my surroundings.

  I find my building outside the window and my brows pull together. "How long have we... doesn't matter," I mutter, reaching to cover myself up and undoing my seatbelt.

  I climb from the car without looking at the driver, I'm too ashamed of my actions. With my head lowered, I pull my dress down my thighs as far as it will go and march toward the main entrance.

  I'm lifting my key to the lock with unsteady hands when it's ripped from my fingers.

  I look back over my shoulder at Dawson, who's seemingly just inviting himself up. I mean, I'm not surprised after what he said just a few minutes ago in the taxi, but it doesn't stop anger swelling in my belly.

  "Do you mind?" I snap, turning my back to the door and glaring daggers at him.

  "No, I really fucking don't."

  I squeal like a little girl as my feet leave the floor and I find myself staring directly at Dawson's arse.

  "Put me down
, wanker," I shout, kicking my legs and pounding my balled fists into his solid butt.

  He laughs, a full-on belly laugh as he pushes through the door and starts jogging up the stairs as if I weigh nothing more than a feather.

  "Dawson, put me down."

  "It's cute that you think I'm going to listen, baby girl."

  Crossing my arms, I huff out a frustrated breath as his large palm burns my bare arse cheek beneath my dress. It's the first time I remember that I'm not wearing any fucking knickers.

  "I swear to God, Dawson, if I flash any of my neighbours, I'll—"

  "You'll what?" he taunts before his heat leaves me seconds before it cracks against my skin.

  "Ow, that fucking hurt."

  "Good. It might stop you complaining."

  I snort. "Unlikely."

  He comes to a stop at my door, but I don't bother fighting. Instead, I just hope that once we're inside he'll release me.

  It's wishful thinking, because he lets the door slam behind us before walking straight to the kitchen and pulling open the cupboards.

  "Where's the alcohol?" he asks after a few seconds of coming up empty.

  "Top right."

  "Ah-ha. I'm going to need this if I’ve got to put up with your smart mouth."

  "You could leave. I'm sure you've got a perfectly good bed at home waiting for you."

  "Yeah, it's damn comfortable too, but it's missing one thing."

  "Oh yeah?" I ask, trying to sound as bored as possible.

  "Yeah, you."

  He turns around and my head spins before marching through my flat like he's been here a million times before and finally depositing me on my bed.

  "Better?" he quips, watching me bounce with my dress up around my waist.

  "I would be if you'd leave."

  "Aw, you don't mean that, baby girl." He twists the top off the bottle of vodka he found in the cupboard and lifts it to his lips before swallowing down a generous gulp.

  "Don't I?" I seethe before reaching for the bottle. He isn’t the only one who needs something to take the edge off.

  Thankfully, he hands it over, but he only allows me one mouthful before he rudely snatches it back.

  "We both know your fingers wouldn't give you what you need tonight." He swallows down more as my eyes find their way to his throat, his inked skin rippling.

  My mouth waters and every muscle below my waist tenses.

  "My fingers, no. But I've got a pretty fantastic vibrator that does the job better than any man I've ever met."

  "Any man?" he asks curiously.

  "Yep," I state proudly.

  "I've not got much to live up to then."

  "Who says I've been with anyone aside from you?" I sass.

  I hoped he might look offended, shocked even by that comment, but all he does is smile.

  "Fuck you," I mutter, once again holding my hand out.

  "Strip," he demands, clutching the bottle to his chest.

  "I'm sorry, what?"

  "I. Said. Strip."

  Something explodes inside me, and I jump from the bed faster than my alcohol-fuelled brain can seemingly handle because the room spins and I sway on my feet.

  "Fuck you, Dawson. You don't get to march in here like you own the place and order me around. This is my home. My life."

  I'm in his grasp faster than I can compute and he stares down into my eyes.

  "Don't I? I gained the right to do whatever the fuck I want the day you decided to betray me. So fuck you, Piper. You thought it was a good idea to mess with me? Let me show you just how wrong you were."

  The sound of ripping fabric fills the room a second before my ruined dress flutters to the floor.

  "Better, now get on the bed. Spread your legs."

  I narrow my eyes at him, my need to stand my ground strong. But the second he growls at me, my inner rule follower jumps into action and I crawl back onto my bed until I'm resting back on my elbows with my feet wide, showing him everything I've got.

  My heart races, my chest heaving at an alarming rate as he just stares back at me with nothing but an intense expression on his face. I have no idea if he's going to dive at me or just turn his back and walk out.

  The feeling is exhilarating, although I must admit that if he decides on the latter then there's a good chance I'd chase after him and demand he finish the job he started.

  The silence echoes around the room. The only thing I can hear is my own breathing as tension crackles between us.

  After long, excruciating minutes, he finally moves. My heart jumps into my throat when he turns his back on me.

  My lips part, ready to say anything I can to make him stay, but I relax when he pulls open my wardrobe door instead of leaving.

  I breathe a sigh of relief, but it doesn't last long. Confusion swamps me as he begins rummaging through my clothes. What the hell is he looking for?

  "Dawson, what are you..." I trail off when he turns toward me, and I gasp.

  Unlike earlier, I can read every one of his intentions, and it makes my core tighten with desire. His eyes are dark and full of wicked thoughts as he laces one of my scarves through his fingers.

  "Lie back, arms above your head," he demands. Without instruction from my brain, my body complies.

  The soft pink fabric is wrapped around my wrists before being tied to the posts of my headboard.

  "Better," he mutters, coming to the end of the bed, taking my ankles in his hands and tugging until my bindings are pulled tight.

  "How's it feel after all these years to be totally at my mercy?" he asks, slowly walking around the bed like a lion would his prey, his eyes locked on my body.

  My back arches and my thighs clench under his heated stare.

  I don't respond. I can't. My brain is misfiring as I watch him stalk me.

  "I should just leave you here like this. I should walk out and never come back. Do you think someone would find you?"

  I shake my head. No one would even bat an eyelid until I didn't turn up to work on Monday.

  "There's just one problem."

  "W-what?" I whimper, sounding needy and pathetic. What is it about him that makes me lose all sense of myself and turn into a mess of need, despite the fact that I know he's only doing this to hurt me.

  He lifts his arm, his hand disappearing behind his head.

  "I can't." His eyes flash with something, but I can’t get a read on whatever internal decision he’s just made.

  The next thing I know, the fabric of his shirt is lifting and my eyes get to feast on the skin he reveals.

  His abs are cut to perfection, but they're nothing compared to the ink.

  "Fuck," I breathe once he drops the shirt to the floor and takes a step toward me.

  The lanky, virgin-skinned teenager I knew is long gone, and in his place is this incredibly toned, strong, vicious man.

  My eyes fly around his broad shoulders, trying to take everything in but failing. Until he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his knife.

  I visibly swallow as images of what he did with it last time we were together slam into me.

  He doesn't miss my reaction, and a smile twitches at his lips as he looks between me and the deadly blade.

  But instead of flicking it open and putting it to use, he places it on the bedside table, just in reach should he so wish to use it, before lowering both our phones beside it.

  I watch as his fingers make quick work of his belt before he flicks open his fly and pushes his jeans down over his hips. After toeing off his boots, he kicks them to the floor, leaving him standing in just a tiny pair of black boxer briefs that leave very little to the imagination.

  My mouth waters and my core floods, knowing just how good he feels inside me. He just hit something, did something, that no other man has achieved since I was forced out of his life.

  "Please." I don't realise the demand has fallen from my lips until he pauses with the bottle of vodka halfway to his mouth.

  "Baby girl," his words a
re like silk wrapping around me, and my skin prickles with goose bumps, "you are in no position to make demands."

  "Oh God."

  He hasn’t touched me in what feels like hours, yet I still feel like I'm right on the edge of the cliff, ready to dive off, consequences be damned.

  He continues with his earlier quest, and I watch as the bottle presses against his full lips, he swallows down the liquid, and his muscles ripple down his neck.

  "Want some?" he asks, turning his eyes on me.

  I nod, my mouth suddenly dry and desperate.

  "Open," he demands, standing beside me with the bottle hovering above my face.

  I do as I'm told, and in a second the cool liquid is trickling both into my mouth and down my cheek.

  "Whoops," Dawson says jokingly before dropping to his knees and licking the small river of vodka from my skin.

  It's the closest he's got to kissing me, and I shamelessly turn my head in the hope of catching his lips. But unsurprisingly, he's faster than me.

  The bottle lands on the bedside table before the mattress dips as he kneels on it. He lowers his head, but it's not to my lips, although I can hardly complain when he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth and teases it with his tongue.

  My back arches as a needy cry falls from my lips. I tug at my restraints, desperate to thread my fingers through his hair, to scratch my nails across his shoulders, to just feel the heat of his skin, anything, but they're too tight, too secure.

  "Dawson," I moan when he lifts up a little, although his lips don’t leave me. Instead his teeth sink into my sensitive flesh. "Ow, shit." My nipple burns for a beat before his tongue licks around it and an even stronger bolt of lust shoots straight to my pussy.

  His eyes find mine and I gasp. They're so dark, full of lust, hunger and anger. I swallow, my fingers clenching and my nails digging into my palms as he switches to the other side.

  When I first saw him on Monday and assumed he was there to kill me, this was not what I was expecting. I thought it would be painful, and although my nipple still throbs, this isn’t how I thought he’d end me.

  Our eyes hold as he descends my stomach, his beard scratching down my sensitive skin and driving me to the point of insanity.

  My core throbs and my entire body tingles with my need for release.