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  My eyes slipped to his cock. It looked angry now. Enormous. I reached for it, and it was his turn to wince when I wrapped my fingers around him. He sucked a breath through his teeth, his fingers going still mid-thrust.

  “Careful,” he warned.

  His skin was smooth here, and hot, and veined. His nostrils flared when I drew my thumb up the seam. He was leaking a little. I swirled the pre-cum with my finger.

  He jutted his hips, pressing himself into my grasp. At the same time, he thrust his fingers inside me.

  I tightened my grip. Began to work him, tugging at him in time to his thrusts. His mouth fell open. His eyes locked on mine, and together we began to move.

  “Honey. Jane. You’re—Christ you’re a tease. A dirty. Fucking. Tease,” he said, punctuating each word with a thrust into my hand.

  I met his eyes. “I’m not sorry.”

  Charlie reached down. Swiped his thumb roughly over my mouth. “Don’t you dare apologize for wanting more. Ever.”

  My heart turned over. A neat little somersault that was completely at odds with the wild lust coursing through my limbs, making me feel unhinged. Angry, almost. I was so turned on I was angry.

  “How?” I breathed.

  I wasn’t sure what question I was asking. But apparently Charlie knew the answer.

  “Because you know,” he said. “You know what you want, Jane, and you’re letting me give it to you.”

  His eyes were bright and dark and anxious and clean, all at once.

  Fuck me.

  I needed to come. Now. With my other hand, I reached down and played with my clit. Electricity arrowed up my spine. The muscles in my legs tightened. I arched off the bed. I was going to come so hard.

  Charlie must’ve felt it, too, because all of a sudden he pulled his fingers out of me.

  “Hold on,” he barked, reaching for a condom and the lube. “I want to be inside you when you come.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You can. Hold on.”

  I watched, panting, as Charlie got himself ready. Condom, wince as he rolled it on, lube squirted into hand, hand moving over his cock.

  Then he was between my legs again. He took his dick in his hand and ran it down my slit, then back up again.

  He gritted his teeth, pulling back for a minute. “Gorgeous,” he murmured, eyes on my sex.

  I put a hand on his belly. He was all firm muscle here. A wall of strength.

  “Knees up,” he said. “I want you wide.”

  Lust speared through me, a poleax that hit me right in the clit. I did as I was told, drawing my knees up to my chest.

  He put a hand on one of my legs, just below the knee.

  “Can you see?” he asked.

  He knew I wanted to watch.

  My heart felt squishy inside my chest. I was spread eagled. He was pinning me down. I was baring myself to him in every way possible.

  But Charlie clearly liked what he saw. There was this hunger in his eyes—this adoring ferocity. My instinct was to turn away from it, because it scared me. Which of my flaws would he see? But instead I let myself bask in it. I let him see.

  I let him in.

  I lifted my head off the bed and looked down. Using his hand, he guided the tip of his cock to my asshole. My body tensed. My blood jumped.

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “Good. Now watch.”

  He kept his hand on his dick. He put the other hand on the bed beside my torso, leaning his weight into me. Canting his hips, he pressed against me.

  My body resisted him. I tensed up even more. The pressure felt enormous. But bit by bit, I watched my body swallow him. There were more tears now. More pain. But a good kind of pain. The kind that made my entire being throb.

  I’d never seen anything hotter than this. Ever. It was lewd, watching Charlie fuck me in the ass. Lewd in the best way.

  I looked up to see his eyes on my face again. His face was a mask of concentration. Of barely contained lust.

  “How does it feel?” he asked, his voice thin.

  “Tight,” I said. “Good. How does it feel for you?”

  He scoffed, making the hair that had fallen in his face flutter. “You feel like heaven. I can’t—” He sputtered. “I’m going all the way in, all right?”

  “Yes,” I said, wanting more. Always, always more with this man.

  Charlie didn’t hesitate. He drew back a little. And then he surged inside me in one smooth, athletic motion, swiveling his hips when he sunk to the hilt inside me.

  We cried out at the same time. I grabbed at him. The sharpness, the rawness—it was painful.

  His eyes were still on me. Full of concern. Of heat. The veins in his neck stood out.

  He rolled his hips, a baby thrust. There was an athleticism to his movements—a knowledgeable strength that was ridiculously hot. I rolled back.

  “It hurts a little less now,” I said.

  In reply, he thrusted. Harder this time. “Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Another thrust. Then another. My head fell back on the bed. He swiveled his hips at the end of each thrust, hitting me just where I wanted him.

  I wanted to come.

  I reached down again and took my clit between my fingers. My entire pelvic floor clenched. Charlie’s eyes darkened.

  He reached down—I noticed it was the hand that hadn’t been inside me yet. Slipped a finger inside my sex.

  I yelled. I felt so full. Full to bursting.

  He was thrusting inside me and I was playing with my clit. My legs began to shake.

  “Charlie,” I pleaded.

  He ducked down and kissed me, his eyelashes fluttering against my cheeks, his tongue in my mouth. I closed my eyes.

  One more thrust. I pressed my fingers to my clit, hard.

  And then I came.

  The orgasm shot through me, making me cry out into Charlie’s kiss. Wave after wave slammed into me, tight pulses of white hot heat. It had force and sweetness and pain, all of those things coming at me all at once. My heart pounded; my pulse marched in my ears. I felt stretched tight as the waves kept coming, overwhelmed, my eyes and my asshole stinging. Every muscle in my body spasmed, the ones between my legs tightening around Charlie’s cock.

  He made this masculine noise, something between a growl and a grunt, and settled his full weight on top of me, enveloping me in his heat. Curling me into his strength.

  “Honey,” he said, pressing a kiss to my neck. “I feel you. God, Jane, you feel so fucking good.”

  The orgasm would not quit, pulling me under again and again as I gasped for air. The pulses were white hot, painful in their intensity. In their grip. Maybe because Charlie was thrusting again, our bodies making this lewdly delicious slapping noise as he slammed into me.

  His mouth moved to my nipple, the pierced one. He teased it with his tongue, bit down with his teeth.

  I saw stars behind my eyelids.

  My orgasm began to recede, finally, a tide falling reluctantly back into the ocean. I opened my eyes. Charlie was working over me, holding me as his thrusts became harder but not frantic. Everything he did, he did well. With intention. He didn’t rush, even though I could tell he wanted to. I was helpless in his arms, my orgasm leaving me boneless, but he didn’t take advantage of that.

  He just was here. Present. With me.

  Charlie thrust one last time. Then he gasped, going still, one hand on my tit and the other on the bed. His head was tucked in the crook of my neck. His teeth on my skin, his whiskey-sweet breath warming my blood. He fell into me, gasping for air, pinning me to the bed.

  I snaked my arms around his waist and held him there, his cock pulsing inside me.

  I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, a thick, healthy sound.

  “Jane,” he breathed, lips moving against my neck as he spoke. “Still okay?”

  No. No, I wasn’t okay, because he was asking that question. I bought his concern for me. Even though it was something I cou
ldn’t afford.

  I felt dizzy. Breathless. Sated and tired and hungry for more in a way I didn’t entirely understand.

  “Let me put it this way,” I said, closing my eyes. “That was definitely some Dread Pirate Roberts sex.”

  I felt his smile on my neck. “Pirate sex is good, right?” His voice was all rumbly and delicious. I felt it in my clit.

  “Oh yeah. Some might say it’s the best.”

  This made him pull back. His eyes were so blue. So fucking blue.

  My heart did another somersault. I wrapped my legs around his waist. He reached down and put his hand on my thigh, right where it met with his hip.

  “So you’re saying I’m the best you’ve ever had,” he replied.

  Yes.

  “I didn’t say that. No.”

  “But you thought it.”

  I tapped a finger to the corner of his mouth. “Now you’re just being cocky.”

  He swiveled his hips—why did he have to be so good at that?—and my grin fell a little when I felt him stirring back to life inside me.

  “You’ve got to be joking,” I said. “Already?”

  The look in his eyes tightened, like he was in pain again. “Almost. Told you we’d need more than one condom.”

  Then he pulled out of me, removing the condom and tying it off before reaching for another.

  He held it up. “If you need a break, now’s the time to tell me, princess.”

  I was sore. Sweaty. Still reeling from that orgasm to end all orgasms. The smart thing to do would be to politely but firmly refuse Charlie’s offer, send him on his way, and take a long, hot shower before tucking myself into bed with a fat Philippa Gregory novel. That’s what I usually did after having a bloke over. Nothing like clean hair and some bloody Tudor history to clear the mind.

  But Charlie was clearly no ordinary bloke. Who knew when I’d have sex this good again? I’d be an idiot to send a man who turned me on like this—who paid attention to what I wanted and how I was feeling—packing. Why not have a few more orgasms? It was just good, unclean fun.

  It was just fun.

  I could have more fun like this without crossing any lines, or making any stupid mistakes. I had a grip on the situation. On my feelings. Charlie may have been the cutest, cleverest man I’d been with in a while. But he was still a man, and I’d managed to keep all men, even the sexually accomplished ones, at arm’s length over the past couple years.

  I grabbed the condom from him.

  “I don’t need a break. Not when pirate sex is involved,” I said, and tore the foil packet open with my teeth.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Charlie

  Jane arched her back, pressing her shapely, milky-white ass into my groin. Deepening an already deep angle. She was face down on the mattress, head down, ass up while I fucked her from behind.

  I grabbed her, gathering her ass cheeks in my hands. I gave them a hard squeeze. She moaned. I grit my teeth. I didn’t want to come yet. I could last longer—I always lasted longer than this.

  “Jane,” I growled. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  She turned her head and threw me a wicked smile over her shoulder. Pink lips, white teeth, brown eyes. So confident. So…happy and real.

  “I am,” she replied. “I want to make you scream bloody murder.”

  I slid my hand up the furrow of her spine and wrapped her hair around my fist. I gave it a tug at the same moment I pounded into her, hard, making her tits bounce.

  She moaned again.

  Having sex with Jane would definitely come back to bite me in the ass down the road. But right now, it seemed like the best fucking decision I’d ever made.

  “Let’s see who screams first,” I said.

  I reached down and around and circled her clit, slowly, with my thumb as I thrust into her again and again and again. And then she was screaming, her cunt clenching around me, milking me, making me come half a heartbeat later.

  I shouted, a sound I didn’t recognize. The orgasm pounded through me, so intense that for a second I swore I went blind, pulled under by the force of my release. Jane’s perfume—the feminine scent of it—filled my head and seeped into my skin.

  This.

  This was right.

  Only it wasn’t. This was wrong on so many fucking levels. But I couldn’t seem to stop coming back for more.

  I felt exposed. Stripped bare. Shaken.

  I felt better. Everything—the sex and my mood and the orgasms—it was better than it’d ever been.

  Without thinking I curled an arm around Jane’s waist. I pulled her to me as I collapsed onto her back, burying my face in the nape of her neck. Her body was warm and soft, arching further into mine with every breath she took.

  My legs were trembling. I fell onto my side, bringing Jane with me so that we were spooning. My cock slipped out of her. The breath caught in her throat.

  Shit, that’d probably hurt. I reached between her legs and gently cupped her pussy. Not sure why I did it. Like my fingers could really soothe her.

  Maybe I just wanted to feel her. To figure out what it was about this cunt that made me lose myself like this. I knew I needed to pull away, I just…couldn’t.

  Not yet.

  “Sore?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I can’t remember the last time I had this much sex.”

  “So you’re saying you’ve been deprived.” I lifted my other hand to check my watch. Three forty-five in the morning. We’d been at it since—Christ, ten?

  Had we really been fucking for six hours straight?

  “I have been deprived,” she said. “Also, you’re a bloody animal. Don’t you ever get tired?”

  I laughed. “Thank you. And no, I don’t. Although if I’m being honest, I’m a little sore, too.”

  She was looking at me over her shoulder again. The brown in her eyes was translucent. Soft.

  “Are you?” she said. “Honest?”

  Jane was curled against me, naked and hot and vulnerable. She’d let me touch her in a way no one else ever had.

  She was asking the question, but she’d already decided on the answer.

  The wrong answer.

  My pulse did this weird hiccupping thing. I blinked, looking away, and bit her shoulder.

  “Honestly, I think we should get some sleep,” I said. I pressed the length of my middle finger into her slit, parting her folds. “Give this pussy a rest so you’re ready to go in the morning.”

  Our arms and legs were tangled now. She was so warm. So perfect.

  Her eyes were still on me. I met them. They were a little playful now.

  “I didn’t invite you to actually sleep here,” she teased.

  I grinned. “Are you really gonna make me beg?”

  “No. But you can ask.”

  “So bossy.”

  “Ask.”

  “As you wish, Highness.” I pulled her closer, then lifted the duvet and brought it over our bodies. “I’d like to make you scream again in the morning. Can I stay, please? So I can do that? I know it’s a lot to ask, but…”

  Jane laughed, a vibration that passed from her torso to mine. “Yes,” she said, reaching for the lamp beside her bed. She turned it off. The darkness swam around us, quiet and complete. “I’d like that.”

  I let my grin fall now that she couldn’t see it. I suddenly felt exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that was so deep and so loud I knew there’d be no sleep for me tonight.

  “Me too,” I said.

  It was warm underneath the blankets. Her bed was comfortable, and big. Big enough for us to spread out. But she stayed tucked into my body, her hair tickling my chest.

  It didn’t take long before her breathing evened out. She was still. Comfortable. Dreaming.

  Leaving the door to the proverbial henhouse wide open for me.

  I felt the Warhol’s presence from across the room like an intruder. I knew it was there, I knew I had to take action, but I imagined that if I didn’t turn around, i
f I just ignored it and fell into this girl, fell asleep, it would disappear.

  My heart was pounding.

  Stealing the painting tonight wasn’t part of the plan. I was technically still in the recon phase of this job. I hadn’t thought things would progress so quickly with Jane. That I’d be breaking rules left and right for her.

  But if I really wanted to, I could probably do it. The theft. A bold move, yes. But it would save us a lot of time. Even more money. And the sooner I got this thing done, the sooner Owen and I would be free.

  I could do it.

  My arm felt heavy as I gently pulled it out from under Jane. She shifted a little. I went still. Waited. Listened.

  She was still sleeping.

  I rolled over, my skin erupting in goose bumps at the sudden loss of warmth. I felt the condom, now cold and clammy, slide off my dick.

  Jane stirred.

  “Charlie?” she said, her voice soft with sleep. A little pleading.

  Then she shivered, sucking a breath through her teeth.

  I don’t know what it was. The shiver. The softness. The hopeful way she said my name. But something in that moment broke me. There was another crack inside my chest, same as last night. Like a bone being set back in its socket.

  Fuck, I thought. That can’t be good.

  The thought hit me—that if I stole the Warhol now, I wouldn’t see Jane again. Ever.

  Honestly, taking off now would probably be the kind thing to do. Getting out of her life as quickly as possible. Causing the least amount of damage.

  But the idea that this was the last time I’d ever hold her bothered me. A lot.

  What would mom have me do here? I wanted Owen and I to be free to run the deli on our own. But I was making Jane feel better by being here. She was making me feel better by…just being better.

  She was so much more than I deserved.

  My reasons were hopelessly muddled. I didn’t know what the fuck to do.

  So I did what I wanted. What I wanted, not what Jimmy did. Not what Charles Redford the billionaire did.

  I turned back over and pulled her into my arms. She snuggled into me, and I could smell sex on her skin, sex and her perfume.

  “I was only teasing,” she murmured sleepily. “About you asking to stay. Of course I want you to stay.”