In Dirty Past by Emma Hart, Tate Burke is pure sex. Women actually throw their panties at him during shows. And Ella Dawson is the lucky girl that gets to escort their fangirling butts out when he’s done with them. He’s a bit full of himself, but there’s more to him than meets the eye. Every now and then Ella gets a rare glimpse of the Tate behind the “bad boy” act, and it attracts her in the most annoying way. The most irresistible, heart-thumping, and captivating way . . .
She smiles and straightens, turning for the elevator. I jog across the lobby and beat her to the button, my thumb pushing it just seconds before hers does.
My lips tug to the side. “Hi.”
“Are you following me?”
“No, darlin’. I’m the followed, not the follower.” I put my hand on the side of the door and let her walk into the elevator before me. I push the button to the fourth floor and lean against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Obviously. Well, can I help you with something?”
There are so many f*cking things she can help me with, namely my rapidly hardening c*ck.
“Dangerous question,” I remark, ignoring her subsequent eye roll. “You said you need a new phone and credit card.”
“Correct.” She tucks some of that dark hair behind her ear.
“Sofie should have told you that we’ll arrange that. For as long as you work for us.”
“That isn’t necessary, Mr. Burke. I’m perfectly fine doing it myself.”
“Sure you are, Ella, but you’re not going to. You’re our employee and we’ll take care of you.” And boy oh f*cking boy, would I love to take care of this chick.
“Well, thank you, but like I said, it isn’t necessary.” She smiles shyly and steps out of the elevator ahead of me.
My jaw clenches. I don’t give a f*ck if it’s necessary or if she wants it or not. “They’ll be in your name. We’ll take care of the phone bill, but the credit card is on you.”
Her shoulders heave and she turns her head halfway over her shoulder, her eyes on my feet. “Thank you, but no thank you.”
She slides her key card into the slot, but before she can open the door, I snatch her hand away. She flinches in shock, and I spin her so she’s facing me. Still, though, her eyes are on my shoulder.
“When you wake up tomorrow there’ll be a phone and credit card in reception waitin’ for you, and you will take it. And, Ella?” I cup her jaw and force her eyes upward. They crash into mine, blazing with annoyance, and I tilt my face toward hers, enjoying the hitch in her breath. “For someone concerned about my manners, you have a serious lack of them. When I talk to you, you f*ckin’ look at me. Understand?”
Wordlessly, she steps back, and I let my hand fall. She nods once, quickly, and yanks on the door handle. She disappears inside the room in a split second, leaving me standing in the middle of the hall, staring at the closed white door.
Wondering why the f*ck her annoyed gaze was riddled with fear.
Ella looks at me, her eyes wide and shining with arousal, her lips full, and her cheeks blooming with red. Everything about her screams “F*ck me.” Every. Single. F*cking. Thing.
I grasp her toned thighs in my hands, part them, and kiss the inside of one. Her fingers close around mine, but I kiss up her leg. Her heavy breathing shoots right through me to my c*ck. Her heavy, desire-filled breathing.
No fear. Just desire.
I kiss a long, lazy trail up her other leg, and just before I reach her wet, swollen p*ssy, she whispers, “This is kind of gentle.”
I respond by closing my mouth over her p*ssy and rubbing her cl*t with my tongue violently.
She squeaks a “Take it back,” and pushes her hips into me. I run my tongue all over her, trailing circles around her sensitive cl*t, tracing long, pressured lines from her opening to the hard ball of nerves.
She grabs at my hands, firmly on her thighs, at my head, buried beneath her legs, at my arms, tensed and ready to hold her hands down so I can f*ck her as hard as she wants me to.
“Tate,” she moans.
It’s too much. I need her too badly.
I yank my jeans and boxers down and reach for a condom from the nightstand. I roll it on quickly to the sound of her labored breathing and lean over her.
Her fingers slide through mine and I hold her hands on either side of her head. She looks up with her dark, glossy eyes.
“No gentle,” she breathes.
“No gentle,” I agree, my c*ck at the opening to her p*ssy. I slide inside her easily, her tight wetness making me groan, hugging me so f*cking incredibly. “Ella.”
She opens her eyes.
“I will f*ck you so hard you won’t breathe. I will bury myself so deeply inside you you’ll feel me f*ckin’ everywhere, and when you come, it’ll be so f*ckin’ hard you won’t be able to make a sound.”
She nods, lips parted, and I ease out of her. This time, when I enter her, it’s harsher and quicker than before. She gasps with my thrust, and her fingers dig in to my hands.
“Open your legs. Wider,” I say into her mouth.
I thrust into her rhythmically, and she writhes beneath me, sweat slicking her skin and mine. Our breathing speeds until it tangles in the space between our mouths. Her p*ssy clenches around my c*ck tighter and tighter until I groan with the sheer pressure of her pleasure.
Ella wrenches her hands from mine and grips her thighs, holding her legs open and up, and buries her face in my neck. I hold the back of her head and use my other hand to steady me.
And I drive into her, faster and faster, until the noises from her mouth become words that make no sense, until her body is a tight ball of pressure beneath me, and until I’m wound so tightly from holding back that I slam into her in one final burst of desperation.
DIRTY PAST is available now from Pocket Star!