Page 58 of Riding Hard

I feel like my body is on edge and I’m ready to fall over. I’m ready to tumble over the edge at every given moment I’m in his presence. I don’t know how I’m supposed to live like this, and yet, I don’t want to live any other way.

Being with Slade is like the best fantasy I could have ever imagined.

Arching my back, I push myself closer to him, needing his fingers and his tongue. I am so close and trying to keep from crying out. My eyes slide closed as I inch closer to the edge. His teeth glide along my sensitive clit, his fingers curl one more time, and that’s all I need.

I don’t just roll over the edge. I don’t tumble or trip. What I do is leap. I freaking jump off the edge headfirst, ready to rock and roll. My orgasm rips through me, and I welcome it, every single second.

I allow the orgasm to roll through me. Slade doesn’t continue. His hand slips from my body before he rises to his knees. He doesn’t hover over my body. He doesn’t shift forward. Instead, I feel his fingers curl around my hips before he drags my body up his thighs.

He positions himself against my center, lifting his hips slightly as he fills me. My pussy stretches, accommodating his size. We groan simultaneously at the sensation. I love the way it feels when he’s inside me this way.

“Open your eyes, honey,” he grinds out through his clenched jaw.

My eyes slowly open, focusing on his. It’s early in the morning, and I’m still a little hazy from sleep. When he moves inside me, it’s like the sweetest song that could ever be played. This man undoes me. He owns my body, and I’m not ready to admit it to anyone.

I’m not even sure if I’m ready to admit it to myself, but he owns my soul, too.

I’ve fallen in love with him.

I am madly, deeply, stupidly in love with Slade. He’s dangerous, and he should terrify me, but I’m drawn to him like I’ve never been drawn to anyone before. Everything here in Boulder City claims me, just as Slade already does, as if this is the place where I’ve always been meant to land. The wind calls to me, holds me warm in its embrace—soothing and contented all at the same time. This is my home. And Slade is my comforter.

Everyone else is the icing on the cake, with Boulder City being the ingredients. Alex and Elodie are the cake. Slade is the smooth, sweet, rich, and absolutely delicious icing, and Cade—he’s the sprinkles.

This is everything I never imagined possible, and as Slade continues to move inside me, my gaze never leaving his, I can’t help but wonder when it’s all going to fall apart. Because it will, make no mistake about it. It will burn up in a fire that destroys everything. That’s the way things end up for me, and that’s how it’s going to go down.

I just don’t know when.

CHAPTER

FORTY-EIGHT

LOOT

“They want to meet with you,” Hound announces.

Lifting my head from the books in front of me, I arch a brow. “Me?”

I’m the only person in the room, so I can’t imagine why it wouldn’t be me. It’s dumb as fuck to even ask him. But I do it anyway and wait for his answer.

Placing my palm on the desk, I tap my finger a couple of times as I stare at him. I press my lips together, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t. He watches me for a long moment, and I almost ask him what the fuck his problem is, but then he finally speaks.

“You,” he simply states. “They want me, Wrath, Dare, and the guy who runs our books.”

“The strip club?” I ask.

He snorts. “Not this time. We’re having a real civilized meeting in an actual office. Well, a home office in The Lakes Estate.”

“Well, fuck,” I hiss before I let out a whistle. “They’re fuckin’ fancy as shit, aren’t they?” I ask, knowing exactly what that subdivision is.

“You know they are. Should have guessed by the hundred-thousand-dollar watches they were flashing.”

Hound is right. They were flashing some seriously great watches, shoes, suits, and rings worth thousands. I guess I should have known they weren’t living in the hood. But I didn’t think they’d be living in fucking mansions. Needless to say, I wasn’t really fucking thinking.

“When do we go?”

“They want to meet at one for lunch. It will be catered, they claim.”

“Same guy we met with before?” I ask.