AN: Hey, it's been a while. Oops. Sometimes life happens, important people come visit for the holidays, and you end up in a week-long trip to New York. Plans to update and write new one-shots kinda fell on the wayside, but now I'm back to being "alone", which means I'll have more time to myself and more time to write. UNTIL school starts up again in a week. :) :) :(

Thanks for all the reviews for chapter 9, especially the thoughtful ones that shared their feelings about the chapter and their theories about who might be involved in the prostitution ring. Right now, ff is being weird with reviews but I can still read them through my email, so continue leaving your feedback and theories (including who you think inspired the title for this chapter). They are much appreciated!

Should I even warn you? Things are going to get steamy on this boat.

Hush

10. Voyeur

Cigarette smoke billowed into the salty air as a shadowed figure flicked ashes overboard. They took another drag, starting at chapped lips and ending at blackened lungs. Upstairs, the party had gone wilder than anticipated. A thick fog of inebriation and debauchery percolated in the atmosphere, suffocating them at the throat. And what they needed was a clean break from it all.

When they found a secluded enclave on the starboard side of the yacht, they took it, receding into the shadows.

It was peaceful floating in the vast openness of the sea. The lights from the marina were now a distant flicker, like stars in a Manhattan sky. Out here it seemed as if people could finally pull the masks from their faces and reveal their most basic human desires. They could peel away the layers of their constructed reputations and take refuge in the assurance they would never be exposed. The physical distance from land afforded some latitude for truth in a world that was often so rife with deception.

The lit cigarette rested between two slim fingers; its glowing embers drifting to the bleached-white floor of the boat.

"Fuck."

It was a man's voice – low and deep.

The shadowed figure's hand wavered just as they brought the stick close to their lips. They set it back down, standing silent and holding their breath as they listened.

"Yes," another voice cried out, and it was followed by a throaty moan. "Please."

"You said please so –" The man's voice was cut off by what sounded like flesh and tongues tangling in a frantic kiss. Bones and muscles crushed against steel as a body made contact with the wall of the ship.

The figure dropped the cigarette to the ground and stubbed it with the ball of their shoe, until the last cinder burned to black dust. Leaning their head against the wall, they took a quiet breath as they listened to the noise of lips smacking and breathless gasping in between. They steeled themselves before they craned their neck out, eyes peeking past the wall to see two silhouettes of the human form.

His body – six feet of lean muscle – loomed over hers, pressing her upper body against the cold metal casing of the yacht. Her legs wrapped around his waist, crossing tightly at her ankles and drawing him until their shadows blended into one.

A large hand skimmed over her thighs, pushing the short hem of her dress further up until it sat indecently at her hips. Between her legs, his hand disappeared and she leaned her forehead against his. Without wasting another moment, he pulled her in for another kiss, slow and languid this time.

She arched her back as his forearm flexed, in time with the first colored explosion in the sky. Red, white, and blue fireworks lit the black expanse in a series of thunderous roars. The first few explosions were startling as the figure felt their heart leap across their chest, memories of gunshots ringing in their ear.

The cracks of fire were loud, but not loud enough to drown out the lustful groan released from deep within the woman's lungs. The man had pulled away slightly, his eyes watching intently as her face twisted along that thin line between pleasure and pain. She was on the brink, much like the lit ropes that crackled before they shot up and erupted in the night.

The way he took pleasure in bringing her pleasure was so palpable; the figure saw it in his eyes even from a distance. But as much as they reveled in the whole picture, they couldn't help but focus on every little breath and sound the blonde emitted. Staring at the way her eyes screwed tight in time with every clench of her muscles, the voyeur felt their own fingertips prickle with unfulfilled anticipation.

"Yes!" She threw her head back. "Oh… God."

With his hand below her dress, one between her legs and the other squeezing the ample flesh of her ass, he kissed down the column of her throat. She grabbed his face and kissed him with unbridled passion, sucking on his bottom lip before they parted.

"Come for me, Amanda."

She shook her head like she was trying to resist him, like she was trying to withhold him the satisfaction.

"Open your eyes," he said as he cupped her jaw. "I want you to look at me."

She obeyed his command, eyes fluttering open to stare back at the man to whom she had surrendered control. In that moment, surrounded by still waters and the unrelenting cracks of fire, her body was his.

When she came shortly after, he held her against the wall as her body trembled, loose arms wrapped around his neck. He slowly retrieved his fingers just as she readjusted the hem of her dress. Without taking his eyes off her, he slipped the two digits between his lips, sucking and lavishing her taste.

The shadowed figure felt heat rush down their groin – a natural response of the body they hadn't felt in so long. The display was not only erotic, but it had ignited a spark of bitter jealousy, which was only worsened as he tugged her panties down her legs and slipped the lacy material into his pocket. It was a token of their tryst, much like trophies warriors kept after conquering and ravaging land.

"You seem rather distracted."

It was as if a forgotten firecracker had spontaneously combusted. Amanda came out of her hazed train of thought to realize she was supposed to be in the middle of conversation with Bronwyn and Sally. The rest of their clique had dispersed, leaving the two more polished and proper women sipping cocktails by the piano.

"Am I? I'm sorry," Amanda replied. "We were talking about your daughter's cotillion?"

Bronwyn smiled warmly, but there was a hint of mischief in her light green eyes. "Yes, but now I'd like to know why you keep sharing those looks with your husband."

"What looks?"

"He keeps looking at you like he wants to eat you up," Bronwyn said, casting a furtive glance at the men standing along the railing. Nick was sipping his scotch while listening to tales of CEOs committing underhanded, personal moves to turn the market in their favor. Amanda followed her line of sight, her eyes settling upon her husband who looked up just in time to meet her gaze. "And you keep looking at him like that."

Amanda could do this all night – deny the meaning of those looks to these women, who she owed nothing to, and to herself. The scary part was she dreaded delving deeper into her confusing relationship with Nick more than she feared being under Bronwyn's microscope. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh my god! You just had sex with him."

"Bronwyn!" Sally exclaimed, a delicate hand flying over her mouth.

"See. She's not denying it,"

"We didn't –" Amanda started, pausing to catch a barely conspicuous smirk from her husband, which served to further pique Bronwyn's curiosity. "Nothing happened."

"That's a shame then," she sighed. "If I were you, I'd sleep with that man every chance I get. I hear Latin men make passionate lovers."

Amanda choked on her drink, her eyes growing wide in shock.

"Bronwyn!" Sally called her out again. She glared at her before turning back to the younger woman. "You'll have to excuse her. Her husband is always away on business so she's a little, um… deprived."

The redhead glared at her friend.

"It's fine; but really, nothing happened," Amanda assured, trying her best to downplay it, but neither of the women seemed convinced.

Later on, as they moved back to talking about summer parties and benefits, Amanda kept an eye out for the college-aged girls who interned for Leo. A number of them had disappeared, probably on their knees while men old enough to be their fathers were taking advantage of their naivety. She saw the girl she had run into earlier – the one with the torn dress. She sat on the lap of a man with thinning hair and a prominent belly, his ring-covered fingers trailing up her thighs.

Amanda was so fixed on the disturbing scene in front of her, one that she wished she could change but couldn't without blowing her cover; she hardly noticed the men approaching. They slipped inside the boat, Nick hanging back to settle a hand down the small of her back. "Hey," he whispered into her ear. "The guys are smoking Cubans and asked me to join. I'll be right back," he promised. Pulling away slightly, he looked her over with eyes deepened still by lust. "Forgive me for not saying this earlier, but you look gorgeous tonight."

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, leaving her speechless, before he joined the men in the private smoking room.

Bronwyn used her hand to fan herself. "Sexy and romantic. Well, aren't you the luckiest girl I know."

"I don't think it has anything to do with luck," Sally told her before she turned to smile at Amanda.

Ignoring her friend, Bronwyn continued to ask, "But is he as charming in bed as he was just now?"

"Ok, Bron, that's enough. I think we should go easy on the girl and stop asking her questions about her private affairs," Sally warned diplomatically. Among her friends, she was obviously the most conservative, not just in the way she dressed and carried herself, but also in what she deemed appropriate to discuss in social gatherings. "Forgive her. She's had too much mimosas and she also took a Xanax earlier to calm her nerves. She doesn't like to be out on the water very much."

"It's fine," Amanda assured with a smile. "My girl friends back home would ask the same questions."

"See," Bronwyn pointed out. "It's completely harmless; it's all in good fun. Besides, I'm just letting Amanda know she should hang onto a good thing while she still can. Not that she has anything to worry about. Nicolas seems genuine and loyal; but you can never predict how this place influences even the most honest of men."

Amanda's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Good, honest men are hard to find these days," she answered vaguely. "And what's left of them is ruined by the people standing in your midst."

Nick stepped out on the deck, where the party was winding down with the music and the decadence. Similarly, inside the smoking room, the men had burned through Montecristos, just like his father used to smoke. He had listened to them exchange stories about work, wives, and mistresses.

Owen Walker was a serial cheater, but Nick could have easily guessed that by the way he ogled Amanda when they first met or by the way the man looked at Violet with derision. Doug Livingston was hardly any different. Unlike his meek wife, Sally, he was brash and obnoxious about his infidelities. Without considering his perpetually pink face and portly stature, he was the very definition of a pig.

As he bantered back and forth with the men, he felt the yacht shift underneath him. Looking through the windows, he watched as they took their course back to the marina.

He searched through the crowd for the blonde in the red dress. He could still remember the feel of the soft silk and the smooth, warm skin underneath. Below the layers of tobacco and vanilla, there lingered her taste on his tongue.

Amanda drew him in as she looked over her shoulder, her mouth parting slightly and a tendril of hair falling over her face.

As he neared her, she must have sensed something was different with him. "What's going on?"

He checked over his shoulder to see if the coast was clear, but they were surrounded by party guests being ushered out to the deck by Leo's entourage. Sensing the concern in her features, he wrapped her hand in his. She barely flinched this time, allowing him to act out this most simple form of affection.

"Can't talk about it now," he began, his voice low and calm, "but I'll explain later."

With reluctance, she nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

Nick knew he didn't need to prove himself to anyone but the brass. They determined his fate in the department; therefore, only they could judge the success of this undercover operation. But when he was inside that smoking room, and he was persistent in acquiring a key piece of information that could bust this case wide open; it was neither for his benefit nor for the guys up in 1-PP.

He was thinking of Amanda.

He could deny it all he wanted; but the truth was he wanted to impress her. He was thinking of a game-changing move that could make her trust in his abilities as a detective and trust in him as a partner. The payoff wouldn't come until later – if it ever would come at all. But he hoped it would be enough to get her to reveal what she had in stake in this investigation.

"Nick," she said, bringing his attention to the scene that unfolded before her eyes. "Isn't that the girl you were talking to earlier?"

Luisa staggered across the bow of the yacht. Her dark hair was a tangled mess, but it was hardly noteworthy against the busted lip, scratches on her thighs, and the torn straps of her mini dress.

Instinct told him to run to her and protect her, ask her what had happened and who had done it, so he could lay his fists on her attacker's skull. But he was held back by a firm grip around his arm. He looked down to see Amanda giving him a severe look, a trace of sadness and sympathy swirled into icy blues.

She was right.

He wasn't Nick Amaro, NYPD detective. He was Nick Santiago, the bystander.

A man from Leo's security team took Luisa by the arm, pulling her slack body flush against his. "You're embarrassing yourself in front of Mr. Fiorentino's guests," he hissed as he tugged her arm. "'Sides, where do you think you're going? Who says you were done here?"

"We should have done something," Nick argued as he closed the car door.

"And what?" Amanda asked incredulously. "Blow our cover? This assignment is much bigger than what we saw on that boat."

"So what happens to Luisa?" It angered him to feel so paralyzed. While he had witnessed crimes take place in his undercover days in Narcotics, nothing had challenged his self-control and impulse to protect quite like seeing a woman hurt. Especially when it was a young woman who had reminded him so much of his own sister. He knew the situation was complicated because the girls claimed they knew what they were getting themselves into. But it was clear, by evidence of Luisa's intoxication and the wounds on her body, there was a power imbalance. And what might have started out as consensual quickly turned into something ugly.

It was rape.

Amanda leaned her head against the window and sighed. Walking away from the scene and allowing Leo's men to escort the girl back into the yacht had also affected her. She tried to be reasonable and think about the primary goal of taking down the sex trafficking ring. But like her partner, that instinct to protect and serve just would not lay dormant.

He drove out of the marina lot and half a mile down the road to a clearing that overlooked the water. They waited as the final guests departed the vessel. Still there was no sign of Luisa or the five other interns.

The longer they waited the more impatient and restless Nick became. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and kept looking down to check his phone for notifications.

"Are you waiting for someone to call?" Amanda asked, brows furrowed.

He set the phone down. "No. Not really."

"Earlier, you said you were going to explain something to me and –" she stopped when she noticed him lean forward to get a better look down at the marina. Turning her head, she saw service men pull the chain from the anchor. The yacht was undocking again – this time just with Leo and the girls in tow. "Shit."

Nick banged on the steering wheel, letting his short temper get the best of him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her recoil, her arms wrapping around her frame and her eyes shutting tight as if to brace herself from an impending attack. And just as quickly, she sat back straight, eyes trained forward, as if nothing had happened.

"Amanda." He reached toward her but she pulled away. "Christ, I didn't mean to scare you."

She blinked as she pressed her lips into a deep scowl. "You didn't scare me."

"You sure? Because I –" he began, but stopped when she gave him a hard look. There was something to her reaction that had sparked fear in him. It was a reaction that he recognized, not only in his line of work, but also in his home as he was growing up. His mother had recoiled similarly whenever his father felt jealous or disrespected. And while Nick could never allow himself to be like his father and lay a hand on a woman or a child, he knew he was wrong for losing his temper in her presence.

He studied the side of her face, her gaze firmly fixed on what was beyond the windshield. She refused to look at him or even acknowledge the next words that slipped out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry," he said, before he started the engine and headed for home.

While Amanda stared at the unbroken yellow line on the road ahead, her mind attempted to cover up the disturbing picture of the teenager stumbling on her feet as she was being dragged by a man twice her size. Like fresh ink bleeding through the page, the colors from the image blended into another from her past. The emotions they were trying to evoke were the same – fear, powerlessness, and self-loathing. And while the subjects were different in color, shape, and texture, the stories of girls with too much ambition were all too familiar. At the most basic level, when situations called for desperation, they were willing to use sex to survive.

Thick black brushstrokes painted over the pictures – a superficial erasure of the pain that would always be there, beneath layers of secrecy.

At least until the next trigger, cracking the paint to reveal the red light of a motel's No Vacancy sign.

Nick had been talking to her on the ride home. More like complaining, actually. But she hardly listened, knowing he was just trying to fill in the silence with conversation even though it was practically one-sided.

He hated being unable to step in and help Luisa and the other girls. They were being taken advantage of, he repeated as if Amanda didn't understand and agree with him the first time. He wrestled with the girls' decision to be interns for a known predator; but he ultimately decided that they couldn't be held responsible because they were, in his words, being pressured and manipulated by a man in a position of power.

She hated it. Like Nick, she hated the situation those girls were in and she wished there was something she could do to make those dirty, old men pay for their vices. But what she hated the most was how she saw herself in those girls, and how Nick reminded her she was just as easily pressured and manipulated not too long ago. The girls knew what to expect when they stepped into that limousine that drove them to a port in Southampton. Likewise, she knew what to expect when she agreed to a deal with her commanding officer.

"I feel complicit letting this happen," he sighed as he followed her upstairs to the loft. He sank down on the bed and rubbed his weary eyes. "Maybe I should call my partner. Maybe the squad can do something on their end without risking our cover."

"No!" Amanda whipped around. "We agreed that the department can't find out about our plans."

"This is Olivia though. She'll understand."

"No."

He stood up and rested his hands on his hips. "Don't I get a say in this?"

"You do. And I still say no," she said with finality, hoping her stubborn partner would drop his ridiculous idea. As much as she felt guilty leaving those girls to their own devices, she had to remain focused on her end goal, which was ensuring the safety of her sister. She had yet to find Kim; and Amanda was starting to feel like her time was quickly running out.

"When are you going to start treating me like an equal? I'm sick and tired of busting my ass, trying to gain your trust. And yet you're still not being completely honest with me."

"Busting your ass? Are you fucking serious?" Amanda cried out, twisting her face in an expression of disbelief. "You spent the night trading locker room stories with your boys, smoking cigars, and charming your way into my pants. You know, if you had kept an eye on your girl instead of choosing the worst time to tell me you're horny, then maybe nothing would have happened to her."

His skin deepened to a shade of red, steam practically bursting out of his ears. "Are you jealous of Luisa?"

She threw her head back laughing, before she walked away. Leaning against the dresser, she began to remove her earrings and the bobby pins that held her hair in place. "Don't flatter yourself. You're not all that."

"Really?" Nick crossed the room like an animal plotting to hunt its prey. He stood behind her, his eyes fixed on her reflection as her fingers brushed through her loose curls. His right hand was in his pocket, slowly rising to reveal a pair of lace panties. He let the fabric skim her bare arm until he brought it close to her cheek. He was taunting her, proving to her that she felt the same way, that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. His breath ghosted over her ear as he whispered, "Admit it. You liked being finger fucked on the side of that boat."

"Fuck you, Nick."

His eyes met hers as he smirked devilishly. Scrunching the lace up in his fist, he pressed it to his nose and inhaled. "I bet I'm making you wet right now."

She ground her teeth and clenched her jaw.

He dropped her panties to the floor and, with his hand, trailed along the curve of her shoulder to her neck. He cradled the length of her throat, stretching her neck out. He held her cheek to cheek and watched as her skin colored into a rosy hue, her eyes fluttered shut, and two hard points appeared beneath red silk. Slowly, with her head cradled in his hand, she turned and claimed his mouth in a lazy kiss.

His other hand fell to her waist, urging her body to melt into his. She felt like dripping candle wax under his touch, and his kiss had lit a flame that swiftly surged into wildfire.

Amanda moaned into his mouth as she felt his erection dig into her backside. Earlier on the yacht, she was fortunate enough to get release from his skilled fingers; but her partner – not so much.

Spinning around and grabbing hold of his shirt, she darted her tongue out to lick along the seam of his lips. He tasted of scotch, tobacco, and sea salt. She coaxed him into a deeper kiss and he instantly opened up, gliding his tongue over hers in a battle for control. A wicked laugh rumbled from his chest as she dug her fingernails through his shirt. He swatted her ass lightly and pulled her against him to secure her in his hold.

Her hips rolled forward, grinding in an erotic dance against the straining tent in his pants. She locked her teeth into his bottom lip and slowly pulled back, lashes fluttering to reveal blown out pupils. He stared back at her with equal intensity, letting their bodies fall into each other.

If eye contact were enough to start a fire, they would have burned their newfound love nest to the ground.

"Tell me you want this," Nick murmured, nudging his thigh between her legs.

"I will if you will," she challenged.

"You're not going to make this easy, huh?" He kissed her hard on the mouth before he stepped away and unsnapped the buttons of his shirt. The white tee he wore underneath clung to the defined planes of his chest. Amanda's wandering eyes traced the lines of his physique, up to his face where his delicious mouth was turned at the corners in a smug smirk.

He raised an eyebrow expectantly and Amanda snapped out of her daze.

It wasn't fair. While Nick was dressed from head to toe, all Amanda had on was a slinky dress and a pair of stilettos. One move in this game and she would have been naked. His smirk turned into a toothy grin as he shook his head knowingly, having proof that tough and headstrong Amanda Rollins could talk a big game but not follow through. She narrowed her eyes at the uninhibited expression of arrogance; and in one abrupt motion, she gripped the hem of her garment and pulled it over her head.

Nick swallowed hard, his head tilted low as he stared at her nude form. She stood confidently in the center of the room in nothing but her heels and it was the sexiest sight he had ever seen in his life. He practically had to hinge his jaw back on, before he peeled off his shirt in haste.

Amanda skimmed her tongue over her lips, eating him up with her hungry stare. She took a step forward and traced her finger up his muscled arms, gliding along his collarbone, up to the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He hissed as her fingernails left red lines on the surface of his skin.

His hand followed the path from her wrist to her elbow, before he brushed upon her breasts. Her nipples hardened into stiffer points, provoking him to dip his head and sweep his tongue over them. The warmth of his mouth enveloped the cool peaks as he sucked firmly. She grabbed the back of his head and held him in place, basking in the pleasure his hot mouth provided.

Her body hadn't felt this alive in such a long time. Desire rushed through her veins and clouded the rational part of her brain that told her it was a bad idea to get involved with someone she worked with. Even if this helped their story as husband and wife, they didn't need to cross this line. But as he bit down on her nipple, the sharp sting made her bones quiver. It made her forget the doubt clawing through and screaming from the back of her mind. All she could think about was the feel of his tongue swirling around the tip, elevating her arousal, before rapidly flicking it back and forth.

This was just foreplay, but like he accomplished with his fingers earlier that evening, she was already on the edge.

She pushed his head away and took several deep breaths as she tried to regain her composure. Similarly, Nick's breathing was uneven, his mouth swollen from devouring her breasts. Confusion fell over his face as he wondered why she stopped him.

"This is never going to work," she said breathlessly. "But I never make the best choices when it comes to sex."

Nick appeared to be at a loss. "You want to stop? Because if you say no, then I'll back off. No arguments."

"No. I mean yes," she said quickly. "I know this is stupid. I know this is a bad decision… But I'm not saying no. I want this."

"If I'm going to be part of your bad decision," he said with a roll of his eyes, "then I have to tell you that I'm known to be impulsive when I'm angry."

"You're still mad about what I said?"

"Very."

His large hands drifted from her waist to her back, where he pulled her flush against him. Amanda squealed at the unexpected contact of her soft flesh against his taut muscles.

His fingertips brushed down her sides as he crouched down, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck and chest. She felt his palms course over her thighs, his mouth following the descent with a few open kisses on her tender breasts. She steadied herself on his shoulders as he dragged his hand up her inner thighs, running a single finger through her wet folds. This time, he withheld her the satisfaction of slipping it inside. He simply coated his digit in her arousal before licking her taste, humming in approval as it hit his tongue.

"Come here," she commanded, urging him back up to full height by the nape of his neck.

Amanda fumbled with his belt, pulling it halfway out of the loops, before wrenching the button of his pants open. She impatiently dragged them down along with his boxer briefs to reveal his fully erect cock. As she bit down on her bottom lip, her hand brushed along the shaft, the pad of her thumb swirling over the tip and spreading the thin coat of precum.

His hips jerked forward as she continued to stroke him with her soft yet firm grip, his eyes intent on locking with hers. Suddenly, she remembered what she had been told earlier about Latin men being passionate lovers. And although she had no plans of admitting it out loud, she was eager to find out it the stereotype was true.

As he cupped her jaw, he kissed her with rising intensity. He sucked on her bottom lip and slid his middle finger into her sopping, wet core, slowly pumping it in and out just as he did on the yacht.

She tore her mouth from his, leaning her forehead on the base of his neck as her hips bucked to the motions of his hand, wanting him to go faster and deeper. He obliged, adding a second finger and increasing the pace. His thumb found her clit, pressing down and circling on the nub of flesh, making her inner walls throb and clamp down on his fingers.

As she ground into his hand, she gripped his cock in an attempt to restore her control. She squeezed him a little harder and pumped faster, watching as the veins thickened and engorged the head.

"Fuck. Let me," he rasped as he closed his eyes. "Let me fuck you before you make me come."

"I'm not going to last much longer either," she panted, her legs starting to tremble as she fell into him.

"I've got you," he murmured, wrapping his arm around her limp body and easing her down on their bed. He got between her legs and hovered over her, connecting their bodies with a kiss that made her yearn for more. She watched with heavy lids as he rose to straddle her, his tanned skin glowing with a sheen of sweat. His eyes darkened to onyx as they raked over every inch of her body, down to the five-inch spikes still secured to her heels.

Amanda spread her legs in invitation.

"No missionary tonight." He smirked lasciviously.

He scooped her up like she weighed nothing, cupping an ass cheek in each hand. She wrapped her legs around his waist, ankles crossing at the base of his spine and arms encircling his neck.

"That was… something," she laughed almost mockingly, wriggling her ass as she found her balance on his palms. "Didn't know you had those kind of moves in you, Amaro."

He cocked a brow, a small smile tugging at his lips. He then leaned forward and whispered, "You're going to quit being such a smart ass when I'm through fucking you."

"Prove it."

Nick slowly lowered her down on to his cock, stretching her walls into a fullness that was simultaneously painful and satisfying. She buried her face into his neck, groaning into his hot skin at the discomfort that dissipated once he was settled all the way inside. He pressed light kisses on her shoulder as he slowly rolled his hips underneath her.

She instinctively bucked with a need for more.

That was his cue. "You ready?"

"Yeah. Make your move."

"Hold on tight."

Pulling out and allowing the tip to brush against her lower lips, he thrust back in roughly. Amanda took heed of his warning and held on tight as he bounced her up and down, slamming into her in fast and deep strokes that awakened every nerve she didn't even know she had.

Skin to skin, their bodies melded into one, arms and legs tangled with the sheets. His hands on her ass worked as they lifted her up and dropped her down on his dick over and over again, each time impaling her with every hard inch of him. He buried himself in her tight heat, growing slicker with every guttural moan and breathless whimper that hung in the thick air.

"Don't stop," she rasped as his cock continued to plough into her. He took her to new heights. And she wanted to push it even further and see what lengths her body could withstand.

He kissed her, tongue sliding into her mouth in time with a set of particularly deep thrusts. She moaned into his kiss and cried out God's name against his lips. It must've ignited something in him, because he took her by the hips and drove hard into her until he was balls deep, grinding into her. The glaze in his eyes was completely feral and the grunts he released were absolute caveman, and it turned her on like nothing else.

"I've been hard for you all night," he groaned into her ear, one hand sliding to her front. "Even when you piss me off, all I want to do is fuck you."

Amanda gasped, her body free-falling over the edge of orgasm. She clawed at him as her body was electrified with a rush so intense she thought she would black out. Every ounce of strength was drawn from her body as he applied a firm pressure to her clit and continued to plunge inside her, stroke after stroke, until he joined her. He buried his head on the crook of her neck, muffling the low moan that accompanied his release.

Heavy breaths laid between them as they rested back down on the bed. She was on top of him, his arms wrapped around her waist, keeping their bodies still connected at the hip. She propped her head on his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne mingled with the musk of their sweat and sex. If she had known riling him up could lead to the most physically gratifying angry fuck of her life, then she would have jumped his bones a long time ago.

When their heartbeats had relaxed, Nick pulled away and laid on his side, his elbow propped up on the bed. "So… Did I prove it?"

"Prove what?" She scrunched her face, brows knitted and mouth twisted into a frown. He tilted his head in the direction of her lower half; the recognition immediately present in the expression on her face. "Oh… that." She shrugged her shoulders, earning a disappointed look from him. "It was a good fuck, don't get me wrong. But it's going to take a lot more than that to stop me from being a smart ass."

He draped a leg over her hip and pulled her back flush against his chest. He breathed down the side of her neck, as the tips of his fingers lightly skimmed down her curves. She sighed as she felt his hands brush softly against the sore and tender skin between her legs. Between his fingers, he lightly pinched where she was most sensitive, earning a muffled moan as she clamped down on her lip.

"Then, I guess, I'm just going to have to try harder."