Steele was fine as fuck. Not as heavily built as Archer or as sharply defined as Kody, but holy hot damn, I could see why he'd been included in those shirtless modelling shoots. No retouching needed.
Tilting my head back, I caught his lips once more, kissing him to stop myself from babbling incoherently and totally losing all my chill. Steele grabbed me by my hips, jerking me forward to the edge of the vanity and grinding his hardness against me. Silently I cursed my decision to wear jeans, but on the flip side, the dark denim was the only thing preventing him from seeing how soaked I was already.
I sucked his lower lip into my mouth, nipping him a bit harder than necessary, but the groan he let out was all hunger and lust. His hands skated up to my waist, sliding under my top and shoving it up over my boobs, baring my black bra.
Breaking our kiss, he breathed a curse, then dropped his head to my chest. He yanked the soft cups of my bra down, then latched his mouth onto one of my rock hard, aching nipples, flicking them with his piercing. I moaned as he sucked and nipped, the throbbing need in my core growing hotter by the second. It was an itch that so damn badly needed to be scratched. Hard.
I reached for Steele's belt, unbuckling the supple leather from the warm metal of his buckle. My hands were steady and sure as I flicked his button open and dragged his zipper down. I gave myself a quick mental high five that the screaming need to feel him inside me hadn't made me shake like a cold Chihuahua.
To my surprise, though, Steele wasn’t wearing any underwear, and in an instant his bare, scorching flesh was in my palm. There was something crazy hot about a guy going commando.
He hissed at that first contact, his tongue stud clicking against his teeth, and I allowed a feral smirk to cross my lips. His mouth was quickly back on my breast, though, and when my grip tightened, stroking him, he bit down hard enough to make me cry out.
His warm breath feathered my skin as he chuckled that same dark and dirty laugh from earlier. The one that did all kinds of delicious things to my throbbing cunt.
Still, we didn't speak as he tugged me off the vanity and spun me around so that his tall, toned figure was draped all over me. He made quick work of my fly, peeling my tight jeans down just enough that he could fit his hand inside.
A desperate, whimpering moan escaped me when he stroked my clit through my lace panties, and I grabbed onto the edges of the sink for stability. Steele teased me through the thin fabric only a few moments before tugging them aside and driving two fingers deep inside me.
A groaned string of curses fell from my lips, and I tipped my head forward for a moment, my legs shaking as my core clenched around his long fingers. He used his free hand to sweep the rest of my hair over my shoulder, baring my neck for his lips. Shuddering waves of ecstasy skated over my skin as he sucked and kissed the sensitive skin of my throat and neck, but my focus was entirely on the hand buried between my legs.
I arched my back, pressing into him and feeling every hard inch of his body against mine. He held all the power, though, and for once I didn't care. I wanted him to take control. I loved that he'd put himself in a position of dominance, and even though I'd hate myself for it later... I wanted nothing more than to be shoved to my knees and his cock forced into my mouth.
Our heavy, gasping breathing was the only sound in the dirty restroom as Steele proved to me just how strong and skillful his fingers were, bringing me to the edge of orgasm in mere moments. My face felt all kinds of flushed, and I was eternally grateful someone had already broken or stolen the mirror so I didn't have to watch myself come. Because when I did...
"Holy fuck," Steele groaned as my teeth sank into the hand he'd hastily clapped over my mouth, stifling my scream so we didn't end up with an audience, no doubt. I had no apologies for him, though; he'd brought it on himself. His own breathing was just as rough and ragged as mine, and it took me a moment to realize he'd come too.
Good thing my tank top had been pushed up over my breasts because all it took was a quick swipe with a paper towel to clean off the small of my back. My panties were a whole other fucking issue. They were drenched.
"Fuck," I muttered, cringing as I buttoned my jeans. "That's unpleasant."
Steele snickered one of those satisfied masculine sounds as he pulled his T-shirt back on. "Underwear is overrated, Hellcat. Just take them off."
His abs flexed as he rolled the fabric down, and I tried really, really hard not to ogle him like I wanted to lick him all over. I failed. He noticed.
"I'm not taking my panties off, Steele," I grumbled, running my hands through my hair in an attempt to calm down what was undoubtedly some pretty wicked sex hair. Two steps across the dirty bathroom, though, and I cringed at the moisture between my legs. "Fuck it." Steele smirked, and I glared at him. "Wait outside. I'm not taking my panties off while you're staring at me like that."
His grin was pure evil. "Staring at you like what, Hellcat?"
My eyes narrowed further. "Like I'm a piece of meat." I bit back the smile threatening to kill my serious, threatening image. "Go!"
He rolled his eyes and turned to face the door. "Better? Just hurry up. The fight is probably over."
Shit. The fight was definitely over by now. It'd been practically over when we'd started. The last thing I needed was Archer and Kody knowing what we'd just done.
I quickly stepped out of my heels, stripped off my jeans and sodden panties, then put the jeans back on—sans underwear.
The rough seams of my tight jeans rubbed me in all the wrong ways—or right ways, depending on perspective—and I uttered a small groan of frustration.
"I don't know which is worse," I admitted under my breath, stuffing my feet back into my shoes. I brushed past Steele and shoved the restroom door open with him hot on my heels.
The room where the fight had just been held was rapidly emptying out of people—which explained why no one had busted in on us in the accessible bathroom—but standing in front of the betting windows were two very irate looking guys. Kody had his phone out, texting, and Archer looked like he wanted to kill something or someone. With his fists.
There was no time to escape, though, because a second after I’d spotted them, Archer's furious glare met my eyes across the room.
Fuck.
I still had my damp panties balled in my fist, but as Archer stomped over to us, Steele slipped them out of my hand and into his pocket. Small mercies, I guessed.
"Where the fuck have you two been?" the big, tattooed dickhead demanded, getting all up in my personal space in a way that made me want to junk punch him.
I sneered up at him, refusing to be cowed. "None of your fucking business, Archer. Back off before I intimately introduce your balls to my knee."
His brows shot up, and he scanned my face with eyes far too damn intuitive for my own good. Then cursed. "Steele, what the fuck? This is your idea of keeping her out of trouble?" For a moment I thought he was referring to what we'd just done in the bathroom, but then he continued his rant and the anxiety in my stomach eased. "You're both drunk. How? How the fuck do you get this drunk on that piss-weak beer they had here?"
Steele snorted a laugh, shrugging off his friend's ire like he'd gone through it a thousand times before. "Because I came prepared, bro." He pulled his flask from his pocket—admittedly almost empty now—and tossed it into Archer's hands. "Maybe take a shot and lighten the fuck up."