Pretty Dirty (Dirty Bad Things Book 2)(21)

She twists her head around and yanks my mouth to hers, screaming into my mouth as her orgasm detonates through her. Her tight, slick, quivering little pussy clenches down so tight on my cock, and when I feel her naughty little asshole clamp down tight around my thumb, I fucking lose it.

I growl, claiming her lips with mine as the cum blasts from my balls, up through every inch of my pulsing cock, and explodes deep against her womb. My whole body feels like it’s on fire, my balls tightening up as rope after rope of my hot cum fills her pussy to the brim. We keep kissing, our lips locked tight as our bodies slowly come to a panting, gasping stop.

“No lingerie,” I groan into her lips. “Definitely no lingerie. Actually, no panties ever with me.”

She bites my lip playfully. “And what if I get cold?”

“Then you’d better know exactly who to come to to warm that pussy up.”



“We’ll take the dress,” I say evenly to a bright red, flustered-looking sales lady. The sales associate from the dressing room.

“The dress, and everything else she tried on and liked, including the shoes.”

Zoe beams next to me and squeezes my hand tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

The sales lady is doing everything in her power to not make eye contact with either of us as I hand her my credit card, when I suddenly stop.

“Actually,” I grin. “Do you have any pearls?”





12





Zoe




My jaw drops, and my fingers squeeze his hand a little tighter as we step inside the restaurant.

“Whoa.”

Gray grins, squeezing my hand right back as he confidently strolls across the marble-floored entrance of Maison Sauvage, with me in tow. I’ve heard of the place, of course, but I have never been to a restaurant this fancy. Not even freaking close. I swallow, feeling nervous, and like an imposter who doesn’t belong here, even if I am wearing a gorgeous, insanely expensive dress from our shopping excursion this afternoon.

We hit up three more stores after the place where we emotionally traumatized the poor sales clerk. And each time, I protested, but each time, Gray insisted on buying me armfuls of new clothes. Including this little number. It’s red, and silk, and it falls almost all the way to the floor. It feels sexy as hell on my bare legs, and the huge slit that goes all the way from the hem to high on my thigh has me feeling like some girl out of a James Bond movie.

I should feel right at home in a place like Maison Sauvage — fancy, and sexy, and on the arm of a gorgeous man in a sharp suit. But instead, I feel like an imposter — like all the people in here can see right through my fancy new dress and see the broken, damaged girl underneath. Maybe it’s the bare sleeves, bare back, and plunging neckline that show off way more ink than anyone else in this place has on display. Or maybe it’s just that I know where I come from, and it’s not a place where you go out to dinner at places like this.

“You deserve to be here more than anyone else in this fucking place,” Gray purrs in my ear, startling me. “And yes,” he says with a wink, “I’m a mind-reader.”

I roll my eyes and shrug. “Not what I was thinking.”

He just arches a brow knowingly, and I feel my face grow warm. He pulls me over to the ma?tre d' stand, and even though I’m sure this place has reservations out for months, the man only smiles broadly at Gray, addresses him as “Mr. Channing,” and leads us through the elegant restaurant towards the back.

“What are we doing here?” I whisper, tugging on his arm as the ma?tre d' seats us at a small, quiet, round booth and hands us menus.

Gray turns and grins. “Eating?”

“No, I mean…” I frown. “You know what I mean. What are we doing here?”

“Making up for lost time.” He shrugs. “This is me taking you out on a date. A real one, like the kind I feel like I should have taken you on before I paid you a shitload of money to strip for me.”

I blush, rolling my eyes. “You did do that.”

I bite my lip and look at him carefully.

“Why did you? I mean, c’mon, look at you.”

He grins but I shake my head.

“No, I mean that. You’re rich, you’re successful—”

“I work for the mob, Zoe.”

I nod. “Well, but still. You’ve got money, you have an amazing apartment, and you’re insanely good looking.”

“Flatterer.”

I grin.

“So, why—”

“Why’d I pay a girl on a cam site to strip for me?”

I nod.

“Because you’re fucking perfect,” he growls heatedly, sliding across the booth seat into me and taking my hand. “Because you’re absolutely perfect.”

I shake my head. “No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Perfect isn’t hiding under tattoos and scars,” I say quietly.

“Are you hiding?”

I think on it. “No, I guess not, but I’m still not perfect.”

“You look pretty damn perfect to me.”

“Perfect enough for fifty thousand dollars?”

“Perfect enough that’d I give the fucking world to have you,” he says, quiet and fierce. “Perfect enough for me to want you more than anything.”