Ride Hard (Raven Riders #1)(29)

One strong arm wrapped around her back and held her steady, while the other hand stroked her hair, her face, her breast. The soft groans and breathy grunts spilling out of him were delicious and thrilling, and bolstered her confidence that she wasn’t the only one losing herself in this moment, in these touches. She almost couldn’t believe this was happening, and part of her was certain she must be dreaming. Because Haven Randall didn’t have beautiful things in her life. At least, never before.

DARE HAD TO stop. He had to stop this.

Except he couldn’t. He couldn’t force his hands off Haven’s straining body, his tongue off her warm skin, his hard body from grinding against all her softness.

It didn’t matter that Haven had offered this—no, more than that, asked for it. Or, at least, it shouldn’t matter.

But it did. Dare didn’t know everything about Haven, but he did know her life hadn’t been easy, she’d been treated miserably by her father, if not outright abused, and that the trust she was demonstrating right now was a rare, precious gift. And her desperate need, the beautiful f*cking honesty of it, was like a drug roaring through his veins, clouding his judgment, fueling his own need, turning his world upside down.

So Dare wanted to give her this. Hell, he wanted to give himself this.

He licked up her neck, and a needful moan spilled out of her as his tongue dragged over the spot below her ear. He sucked her there, and the sound got louder. Her hips thrust against his, bringing her core flush against his hard-on.

“Oh, Dare,” she whispered.

Loving the sound of his name on her tongue, he grasped her face in his hands and claimed her mouth with a devouring kiss. It was probably too rough, too aggressive, the way he forced her lips open and penetrated her mouth with thick, sweeping, dominating thrusts of his tongue, but she took everything he gave her, her small hands fisting and gripping at the lengths of his hair.

Haven scooted forward on the railing so that her body pressed harder against his. Her hips rocked and jerked against his cock, pulling shuddering, gasping breaths from her throat that ricocheted to his balls, making them heavy and hot with need.

“That’s it, Haven,” he said, gripping her ass in his palm. Despite the mess this could cause once the harsh light of daytime cast some glaring common sense on the situation of him screwing around with a client he was supposed to be protecting, with a young woman too innocent for all his demons, he wanted nothing more in that moment than for her to find pleasure using his body. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this kind of urgent arousal, and certainly not just from kissing. And he didn’t know whether to chase that feeling into oblivion or resent the hell out of it for making his usual f*cks seem dull and ordinary by comparison.

And they weren’t even f*cking.

A whine spilled from her throat and her hips moved erratically. “I . . . I . . .” She shook her head.

“What?” he asked, his lips brushing hers, their faces eye to eye. “You gonna come for me?”

Hooded eyes stared back at him, full of pleading and need. “I don’t know,” she whispered, heat filling her cheeks.

Unf*ckingacceptable.

“I do,” Dare growled, tugging her off the railing to stand in the tight space before him. In an instant he had her jeans open and his hand down her panties, his rough fingers sliding into the slippery heat of her lips.

Her mouth dropped open on a surprised, desperate cry, and Dare forced her stance wider, his hand filling up the space between her thighs.

“Aw, Jesus, feel that,” he said, his harsh breaths mingling with hers. He stroked fingers against her wet heat, petting, preparing. “You need this, don’t you?”

“Oh, God. Yes,” she said, her eyes falling closed.

His middle finger sank deep inside her, and Jesus she was tight, the walls of her * sucking at his flesh. He moved his finger inside her, making sure his forearm gave her clit a hard, steady friction. “Look at me. Look at me when I make you come.” With his other hand he gripped her hair, tugging her head back so he could see all of her beautiful, painted face.

Her eyelids flipped open, and the abject need he saw there made his cock throb.

And then her brow furrowed and her mouth opened in a silent cry. She held her breath as her core fisted at his finger again and again, a moan finally spilling out of her. He could only imagine how good that would feel if it were his dick. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he gritted out as he watched and felt her shatter.

If he thought her face in ecstasy had been beautiful, it was nothing compared to the sated, adoring look she wore as she gazed up at him in the moments after. As much as the whole experience had speared a hard-core satisfaction through him, that adoration was also a problem. He slipped his finger free of her *, his hand out of her clothing.

Haven buried her face against his chest and gave her head a little shake.

“What?” he asked, his other hand petting the soft waves of her long hair.

She didn’t respond for a long moment, and then said, “I’ve just . . . never . . .”

Dare hung on the edge of her words. He stepped back and tipped her chin up, needing to know what she was going to say.

Suddenly, Haven frowned. “Oh, God.” Panic filled her eyes, and then she spun, bent over the railing, and threw up so hard her back arched at the force of it.

“Fuck,” Dare said as he held her hair out of her way. As she puked again and again, guilt and self-loathing gathered in his chest until it was a river rushing through his veins. He should never have let things go so far when she was this drunk. He knew better. She didn’t.