Dirty Pleasures (The Dirty Billionaire Trilogy #2) Page 6

  I find someone who looks like she knows what the hell is going on, and after her eyes practically bug out of her head when she realizes who I am, she points me in the direction of Holly’s dressing room.

  My knock on the door is answered with a simple “come in,” and I throw the door wide open.

  Holly is surrounded by three people—a man going after her face with what look like makeup brushes and sponges, another man messing with her hair, and a woman running a lint roller across an outfit hanging from a hook on the wall. They’re fussing and clucking and doing God knows what.

  They don’t pause when I enter, so I find myself a chair in the corner and settle in to check the e-mails that keep buzzing on my phone. A few other people continuously bang in and out of the room, tossing out bits of information that don’t catch my attention. I slip into my own little world, in a corner of Holly’s world, until Holly stands and undoes the top buttons on her plaid shirt.

  I stand, calmly, and cross the room to pause in front of her chair.

  “A moment, if you would,” I say. Again, calmly. And then I back her into a corner of the room behind a screen.

  Her eyebrows are bunched together in confusion. “What’s wrong?” she asks, glancing beyond the screen and back at me.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I growl from between clenched teeth.

  “Changing.” Her slow, measured response suggests I’m a dumb fuck.

  “Not in front of a roomful of people, you’re not.”

  I jab a hand in the general direction of the door, which even now, I can hear opening and closing with what seems like more traffic than a damn freeway.

  With a flip of her now wavy hair, Holly brushes off my concern and presses a hand to my chest in an attempt to shove me out of the way so she can get out from behind the screen.

  When I don’t budge, she says, “Creighton, everyone in this room has seen me mostly naked dozens of times.”

  An insane thought fires through my brain, and I shove it away. I shouldn’t be wondering if any of my companies have access to technology to create memory loss in humans. If she were any other woman, I wouldn’t care if the whole world saw her naked.

  But this woman? I do. I very much do. Why? Doesn’t matter beyond the fact that she’s my fucking wife.

  A caveman didn’t need to understand the urge to drag a woman back to his cave where the other cave assholes can’t see her perfect fucking body. This is a physiological reaction, millennia in the making, over which I have zero control. The rationalization makes my intense possessiveness easier to swallow.

  “I don’t give a damn if every person in the entire fucking stadium saw you buck-ass naked before. You’re Mrs. Creighton Karas now. The rules have changed.”

  The word “rules” brings color to her face, and I wonder if she’s thinking of last night when I asked her if she remembered the rule about me being in charge.

  Turns out I’m wondering wrongly.

  The hands pressing against my chest pull back and slam palm-first into my pecs. Unprepared for her shove, I stumble back a step and into the screen, scraping it across the floor.

  “What the hell, Holly?”

  “You’re such an asshole!” She whisper-yells this at me, but the chatter in the room goes silent.

  I stick my head out from behind the screen and announce, “Everyone out.”

  The woman eyeballs me and looks like she’s going to argue, but she just says, “You’ve got ten minutes. And then she needs to get changed. We’ve got a meet and greet to do.”

  Considering I dislike being told what to do on the best of days, her proclamation does not endear her to me. But given that I’m not in control of tonight’s schedule—yet another thing that pisses me off—I nod, and the room empties.

  Holly stalks out from behind the screen and begins stripping and yelling at the same time. I follow her, but at a slight distance.

  “If you ever refer to me as Mrs. Creighton Karas in that tone again, I’ll be writing a song about a nutless wonder to commemorate ripping your balls off.”

  I hold out both hands, but one drops slightly in an instinctive gesture to protect my testicles. She throws her button-down shirt on a chair and peels off her jeans.

  I’m too caught up in staring at her perfect ass to formulate an intelligent response. Sometimes being a man has its disadvantages, but I refuse to think now is one of those times. It turns out I don’t need to say anything, because Holly has plenty to say.

  “I thought maybe, just maybe, after I explained things to you last night, you’d get it. But you don’t. You just don’t. I’ve already walked out on you once, and if you’d like not to be left behind when I drive off in that fancy new bus you had delivered today, we need to get some things straight.”

  My eyes narrow, and my tone is dangerous. “Do continue. I’d love to know what things we need to get straight.”

  Her eyes flash, equally dangerous. “The only way this is ever going to work is if you understand that I consider my career to be just as important as yours. I might not pull down billions, but this—” her arm swings out wide, “is my dream. I’ve given up everything to have this chance, and I’m not going to waste it.”

  She’s talking like I didn’t listen to a single word she said last night in our hotel room.

  “Do you think I’d be sitting in this shithole of a room, working on my phone, if I didn’t consider what you want important? I’ve rarely so much as walked across the street to go out of my way for a woman I’ve been with. They’ve all been carefully selected to fit into my life and be convenient, but not you.”

  I pause, gripping her chin and lifting it so I can stare directly into her eyes. “You are decidedly inconvenient. And yet, here I am. Because I want you however I can get you, and I think I’ve made that pretty fucking clear.”

  The muscles of her jaw work against my fingers, and she whispers, “I don’t want to be treated like an afterthought.”

  “You’re not an afterthought. Jesus Christ, Holly. When you look at me like that, you’re my only fucking thought.”

  I release her chin and she melts into me, her tense look fading away. I lean in to kiss her, but that feisty attitude of hers flares up again.

  “So you’ll calm down when it comes to me getting changed in my own freaking dressing room?”

  That feistiness brings my club-wielding caveman alter ego back to life. “Not even a little bit. You’re my wife; therefore the only person who is going to see that gorgeous ass or those luscious tits is me.” I think for a second. “Or a licensed medical professional.”

  “My stylists are going to see me in my underwear. That’s non-negotiable.”

  I tilt my head and speak directly into her ear. “As long as your stylists all either have pussies or are male and flaming homosexuals, I can live with that. Otherwise, you’re going to have a problem.” I nip her earlobe with my teeth. “And that problem’s going to be an ass so red you won’t sit for a week.”

  I wait for her to explode into another tirade, but she just whispers, “If you meant that to be a warning, you missed the mark.”

  My cock jumps in my pants and I open my mouth to respond, but Holly just smiles a sassy little sex-kitten smile and slips out of my arms.

  “I’m not done with you, woman.” I follow her across the room.

  She grabs a dress off a hanger, unzips the back, and steps in. “Good to know, but I’m on a timeline. I don’t have time to stop and screw right now.”

  Have I mentioned how much I love her unfiltered thoughts? If not, that’s an oversight on my part.

  She presents me with her back. “Can you get the zipper?”

  “No.”

  I cross to the door and lock it.

  “Take the dress off.”

  Holly spins around, holding the dress against her chest. “Are you crazy? I have to get ready.”

  “We’ve still got the rest of our ten minutes. What kind of man would I be if I let that go to waste?”

  She doesn’t move as I close the distance between us. “Take the dress off, Holly.”

  I love watching the goose bumps rise on her arms and the shiver that grips her. Oh yes, she’s my dirty girl.

  She opens her mouth to speak.

  “The only word I want to hear coming out of that beautiful mouth is yes.”

  The dress falls forward as Holly releases her hold on it. I help her step out of it and lay it over the back of a chair. Then I scan the room with new eyes and settle on the vanity.

  “I may not be able to mess up your hair or makeup, but I’m going to stare into those gorgeous eyes while I’m pounding into you.”

  Holly’s chest heaves with deep breaths as she steps toward the vanity. She pauses, as if waiting for my instructions.

  Fucking. Perfect.

  “Hands on the table.”

  She complies, and her big brown eyes stare back at me in the reflection of the mirror.

  “Spread your legs.”

  One bare foot slides a few inches to the right.

  “More.”

  Her other foot slides a few inches to the left. I step between her legs, pressing a hand to her lower back, and push her feet apart.

  She’s still wearing a tiny thong, and I don’t hesitate to give the waistband a tug to snap it. Through every movement, we never break eye contact. I flick open the button of my jeans and unzip, freeing my cock. I’m already rock hard and dying to be inside her.

  I fist my dick and say, “Be quiet, or I’ll have to gag you. Do you understand?” I don’t carry a gag in my pocket, but I’m sure I could find an adequate substitute.

  “I can be quiet,” she whispers.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. Please. I need you.”

  The grin that stretches across my face reflects back at me as I stare into her eyes. “You better hold on, baby, and be quiet. Because I’m going to do everything I can to make you scream my name.”

  I fit myself to her entrance and drive into her soaked pussy. Our groans echo in the small room before we both stifle them. Gripping her with both hands, I pull out and thrust again and again into the tightest, sweetest cunt I’ve ever had the pleasure to fuck.

  And it’s all mine. Mine. I don’t even realize I’ve said the word aloud until I see Holly’s eyes flash in the mirror and she mouths the word yours.

  Wanting her mindless with pleasure, I vary my strokes. As I find her clit with my fingers, it doesn’t take much for me to push her over the edge into a silent orgasm. I follow, just as silently, and hate that I’m not able to yell her name as I empty myself inside her.

  She’s slumped on the vanity when I pull out, and I use her wrecked thong to catch my cum as it slips out of her. I meet her eyes again in the mirror. They’re bright and fevered, and I want to turn her around and fuck her again, but she says, “I’ve never wanted to skip a meet and greet before. Never. But right now . . . damn it. I can’t.”

  “It’s okay. You have more underwear?” She shakes her head, and I swear. “And you think you’re going out there in front of all those people with nothing on under that dress? No fucking way. Not a goddamn chance.”

  Her laugh is low and husky, and my dick perks up again at the sound. “You know I’m fucking with you, right? I have Spanx that go on under it. Not as sexy, but definitely required.”

  I open my mouth to say something else, but a knock followed by the sound of the door handle jiggling stalls my words. Tossing her panties into the trash, I go answer it while she retrieves her Spanx.

  The woman from earlier looks put out that the door is locked. She looks even more put out when I won’t let her in.

  “Give us another minute.”

  She bristles. “She’s going to be late if she doesn’t hurry.”

  “Two fucking minutes. I’m not asking.”

  “Fine. But hurry.”

  I shut the door in her face, resisting the urge to slam it. I don’t like that woman. At all. I have to remind myself that she’s just doing her job, and her job is to help Holly. For that, I won’t do whatever I would need to in order to get her ass fired.

  I turn and once again, Holly has her back to me, waiting for assistance with the zipper. I slide it up, my eyes drinking in the smooth skin that was under my palms only minutes ago. She does a sexy little shimmy and straightens the dress before reaching for her boots. She slides her feet in one at a time and turns to me, and her bright pink lips curve into a shy smile.

  The shyness is ironic considering what we just did.

  “How do I look?”

  I take her in from head to toe. Dark waves that curl to midway down her back. Snapping brown eyes with thick black lashes. The slick pink lips I’d like wrapped around my cock. A tiny silver excuse for a dress barely covering curves that could stop traffic. Toned legs I want my face between. Turquoise cowboy boots with black-and-silver angel wings embroidered on them that I’d probably let walk all over me.

  Christ, this woman is like none other; she’s a complete contradiction. An innocent sex kitten. A tentative temptress. My every fantasy wrapped up in a package that’s more dangerous to handle than dynamite.

  “You look fucking beautiful. If I didn’t give a shit about your career, I’d kidnap you and drag you off to some harem in the desert where men can still own women like property.” I shake my head. “You need to get out of this room before I can’t let you leave.”

  Her eyes, still bright from her orgasm, blink twice before she swallows and crosses to the door.

  I follow her out into the hallway, and the dingy gray walls are blocked by three security guys the size of the Alps. They eye me suspiciously, and I return the favor. I don’t like the idea of people who aren’t on my payroll protecting her. That needs to be remedied. Holly’s too precious to put at risk.

  As it turns out, I have more reason to be concerned because they aren’t there to protect her; they’re forming a wall around Boone Thrasher.

  Two women are being dragged down the hallway screaming, “Boone! We love you!”

  He’s holding a red lacy bra in one hand and a black thong in the other. He tosses both to one of the security guys. The man looks less than thrilled to be handling what was presumably covering some women’s tits and ass until just recently.

  “Do . . . whatever you do with this shit,” he grunts.

  His smirk turns into a megawatt grin when he notices Holly.

  “Hey, sugar. You ready to kick some ass tonight? Glad to see you didn’t pull a John Denver on your way here, because I know you fucking flew.” He steps toward her and pulls her into a hug.

  Even knowing he’s in a relationship with his own country starlet, I’m hard-pressed not to break his goddamn arms. I wasn’t fucking around when I said I’d like to take her away and keep her to myself.

  His security team eyes me and the pass hanging around my neck carefully when I make a move toward her. Holly retreats from Thrasher’s hold and tucks a long lock of hair behind her ear.

  Thrasher finally notices me and smirks. My expression must be a fuck of a lot more dangerously possessive than I realized, because he says, “Didn’t mean to steal your new bride, man. Thanks for not punching me in the throat; I need my vocal cords for my set.”

  He offers his hand and I shake it, careful not to crush it in my grip. He probably needs those fingers to play a fucking banjo.

  “Thrasher.”

  “Karas. You taking good care of this girl here?”

  Holly interjects. “Did you see my new bus? I think it might be nicer than yours.”

  Thrasher’s head bobs a few times. “Yeah. Fucking puts us all to shame. But no matter. I like seeing you spend money on this girl. She deserves it. Good woman.” His expression sharpens. “Just be sure you’re clear on the fact that she ain’t the kind of girl you can buy.”

  Holly lays a hand on my arm, eyelashes batting in my direction, and her drawl sounds thicker than ever. “Creighton would never think I’m the kind of girl he can buy. He values his equipment too much to risk it.” She tilts her head, her expression turning mischievous. “Although he probably has it insured. The man is proud of what he’s packing below the belt.”

  Thrasher’s security detail guffaws, and I swear Thrasher glances down at my dick. I just shake my head at Holly’s sassiness once again making an appearance. Being teased isn’t something I’m used to, but with her, I don’t mind it.

  Thrasher gives me a chin jerk. “That ain’t a half-bad idea. My dick is worth its weight in gold, no doubt. A whole hell of a lot of gold.”

  And now I know the hick has a big dick.

  The woman from Holly’s dressing room earlier interrupts. “Excuse me, Boone, but we need to get Holly to the meet and greet. Her fans are waiting.”

  “Can’t keep your fans waiting. Go get ’em, girl. I’ll see you onstage for ‘That Girl’ later.”

  “You sure will.”

  Thrasher’s off through the hallways, his security detail leading the way and following closely behind.

  “Where’s your security?” I ask Holly as we follow the woman.

  “I don’t really have dedicated people. One of Boone’s guys will usually show up in the meet-and-greet room and keep tabs just in case the venue security doesn’t show. If I have to walk through a crowd, one of his guys will cover me, or venue security will help there too if Boone’s people can’t be spared.”

  My teeth grind together. “That’s changing tomorrow. You’ll have someone following you everywhere at a venue, and in public, if I’m not with you.”

  “That’s not really necessary.”

  We pause outside what I presume is the meet-and-greet room, and I tilt her face up to mine. “It’s absolutely necessary. And not just because of your career, but because of me. You could be a target, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” I’m not entirely certain, but I think it’s shock I see flash across her face.

  “Holly. Let’s go,” the woman calls from inside the room. She’s really starting to piss me off.

  “We’ll talk about it after the show,” is Holly’s only response before she ducks inside the door.