Hardcore

By Dakota Gray

A decent man would have let her go after our one-night stand, but I’m not decent.

Three years ago, Kennedy Mclane saw the real me after we had sex. She saw the ruthless attorney who gets clients—yes, even the guilty ones—off on technicalities. She glimpsed my heart of stone and ran in the other direction, because I’m everything she shouldn’t want.

For three long years, I’ve waited for my good girl to turn bad. ’Cause when she does, it won’t matter if she’s ready for me, or if she can take it. Hard. We have unfinished business, and I’ve been more than fair. She'll probably hate me by the end of all this. But I don't care anymore. I’m going to get her out of my system, one way or another.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Apr 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781094417783

Dakota Gray

Dakota Gray is the author of the Filth series. She’s a longtime romance reader and she’s not ashamed to fangirl over heroes with dirty mouths, dirtier minds and a soft heart. Gray writes the heroes you shouldn’t take home to mom, sassy heroines and sigh-worthy happily ever afters.

Book preview

fight.

Prologue

Before we get into this shitshow that is my life right now, I should offer up some important background details.

Liquor mixed with lust is the root of all evil in my life.

That one show that's been on since Moses split the Red Sea? The hospital one where everyone is fucking in elevators? Yeah. Law firms can be like that too.

And fucking a hot redhead on your desk can lead to all sorts of problems.

Those are the facts.

So, let me set the scene. It's three years ago. I'm a wide-eyed, or as wide-eyed as I can be, junior associate at a top-earning law firm in Hartsburg. It's a town right on the brink of a metropolis, so this is a big deal. I was just plucked from the sea of shoulder high-cubicles and given my own office on the first floor near the bathrooms. I'm moving up in the world.

The halls of Lance and Chase are decked with cheap plastic boughs of holly. I'm buzzing from three shots of tequila. It’s two days before Christmas and spending it at work might make me too much like my fuckwit of a father. I'm headed to my office to get my briefcase.

The problem?

A certain, hot redhead I work with—flirt with—has tagged along with me.

The trouble?

She’s leading the way, and my gaze keeps trailing down to her ass. I'm pretty sure God handcrafted it himself. Or Satan. It's supernaturally curved, and the jeans plastered to both cheeks, her hips, and everything else she put in them, should be grateful for existing.

In case anyone could forget, I'm three tequilas in. It takes me a while to get to her tits, much less her face. I do by the time I reach under my desk to grab my case.

The distinctive sound of a lock sliding home draws my gaze up to her. Her honey-brown gaze is fixed on me while her teeth promise to leave imprints on her bottom lip. It's that look—the one that can raise a man from the dead. It's that kind of mouth—the one that can make a man want to sell his soul for just a kiss on the tip of his cock.

Now I'm not the guy who will clutch pearls when a woman gets an intent gleam in her eye, but this woman...

What are you doing? I ask her.

She leans against the door and tries to hold back her mischievous smile. I thought we were having a private moment. Didn't want anyone to barge in.

Private moment? I know what she means. I want her to spell it out.

We were having such a good talk in the conference room, but it was too loud with too many people. You're about to head home...

She's so full of shit. It's partly why I like her. Right.

I brace my hands on my desk and do my best to put on my stone-cold, heartless face. It's in my DNA to hold a direct dead stare no one can hold. With enough hair product I can make my strands submit.

I'm a picture of winter—cold, fathomless and deadly. I've been carved into this and some days I pray for guilt, the warmth of shame when I do questionable shit. Those emotions never come, though.

But tonight it's tough to do the stare justice. I didn't eat anything at the potluck. Most of the food looked suspect after five hours of sitting out in the main conference room. This is hour ten at work. I'm running on booze and bagel fumes.

Kennedy. I’m trying to sound like the voice of reason but I've reached her tits and face.

She has the kind of rack you titty fuck because if you don't, you're simply less of a man. Did I mention she's a redhead? She'll have pussy-pink nipples that turn crimson when she’s aroused. I shake my head, surprised at my mind's fast slide into the gutter.

Duke Alexander, she murmurs back at me, and her normally husky voice is a seductive rasp. You look scared.

You might be confusing me with someone else. I'm never scared.

I'm worried if she comes any closer I'll eat her alive, and she'll thank me for it with husky moans. That won't be good. We have a decent work relationship. She calendars for the firm and has never fucked up a filing deadline or missed a drop-dead date for delivering a proof of service. We've talked enough I know she wants to branch out with her own legal courier business—doing similar tasks for much better pay. It'll cater to firms in the area mostly doing grunt work they aren't willing to pay a full-time employee to do.

She's smart, hungry, and maybe I've flirted with her most of the night. Okay. For the past two months. We have the same coffee schedule.

The tequila has me thinking too much.

I try again. Kennedy, you don't want to fuck me.

She smiles, and I swear to god my heart lurches. Fuck me. No. Fuck her, hard.

Duke, Duke, Duke. She's wearing tennis shoes but I would put her walk up against a runway model in stilettos. I can't look anywhere but at her hips.

Why do you think I came to your office? Your office is a shithole. A nice shithole, but I'm not here for the view.

I don't have one. I know. That's the dumbest fucking thing anyone can say in this situation, but my stare has moved to the apex between her thighs. Is it me or is her pussy whispering my name?

Touch me, Duke.

Caress me, Duke.

Lick me, Duke.

No. No. I work with her. This is my first year as a junior associate. Getting a rep for fucking around is not what I want. This is a long game with a clear goal in my mind—senior partner. Half the female staff can't know what my dick looks like when I'm one of the bosses.

See, you have to understand, my father is an attorney. His father was an attorney. My grandfather's mother worked her way up as a clerk for the United States Supreme Court. She was damn near older than god by the time she made it, but it's an Alexander thing to be a force of nature until you physically and mentally cannot.

It was understood at a very young age that I would follow this tradition. I have, to a point. I'm playing the game. I plan to jump through the hoops. I will procure the right friendships and make the smart backroom deals.

Kennedy could be a complication that I don't need. So...do I really want to shoot my load with her? Tomorrow when the haze of liquor has cleared, will she regret what we did?

She runs her tongue over her top lip. Her mouth is not quite pussy-pink, but close enough I hear a whoosh in my brain as all my blood drains to my cock.

Pause.

If it's not clear, this moment—This One—is where things go fucking sideways for me. Before the flash of her tongue, I like to think I could have shaken off the haze of booze. I'm not drunk, but you won’t find me getting behind the wheel of a car. I’m also not the type to be led by my dick. I’ve wanted to fuck her since three minutes after we met, and that was mostly due to her smart mouth and an infectious kind of grin.

It’s safe to say she’s wanted to fuck me too, but resisted. Alcohol plus lust is getting to her also.

I know she had a couple of cups of bubbly. Though her walk is steady and straight as she holds my stare and struts to me, there's a flush to her cheeks. The promise of sex is clear in her gaze.

Yet I know she’s the epitome of a good girl.

This isn't about worrying at June Cleaver's pearls. I'm trying to do the right thing here, which for me happens about once every decade. I live and breathe in the gray area. Her, she's all black and white.

Kennedy, come here.

She picks up her pace. I do my best to not jump her when she slides between me and the desk. I ignore everything, everything, that's soft and warm about her as she sidles up to me. I cup her face and lower my head until the only place she can look is at me.

I say, It's clear we like each other.

You make me laugh. That's hard to do. Though I worry about you.

My brows go up. What?

Sometimes you go cold.

It's something my friends accuse me of, and usually they drag me out of the office to get a taste of life. What amazes me is that she sees it. Again, we chat over coffee in the morning. Or in the hallway. Or at the courthouse if she's running a rare errand outside of the office.

It's just the past month that it seems like I can't turn around without seeing her, but that could be because I'm looking for her. A glimpse of her red hair, her quick smile, and my insides tighten. She's a break from the nose to the grindstone life I've been living since...forever.

Right now, that's not the point. I want her to understand when she wakes up in my bed I’m still going to be Duke Alexander, an attorney with way too much ambition and a penchant for fucking women until they forget their own names. Her eyes need to be wide open before we go any further.

Sometimes I'm cold because that's the man I am. Do you get that? I’m close enough I feel the shiver that runs through her.

She swallows, the hesitation of her answer hanging in the air. Yes.

Kennedy, so far, hasn't spoken a word she doesn't wholeheartedly believe. It's hard to confuse conviction with anything else once you hear it.

I drag my thumbs along her cheeks. Don't just say it.

I'm not, she murmurs. I can see it.

She drops her gaze to my chest before she presses her hands to my pecs.

That should be the end of our exchange. She's unsure and being shy, when all Kennedy has been is unbidden and outspoken. Yet after a deep breath she reaches up to the top button on my dress shirt. She tugs that first one free, and then another and another. Her every exhale feathers against the bared skin.

I want you to fuck me. There's no hint of doubt in her tenor. Right here. On your desk.

Do I need to spell out why I don't say no and send her on her way?

Goddammit.

She laughs. There's a knowing to it—she's got me. Womanly wiles are all about confidence, not deception like some numbnuts believe. Any smart man will bow to it, and my knees ache to do just that whenever she's in breathing distance.

Is that a yes? she asks. You're a little tipsy. I don't want to take advantage of you. I need to hear your agreement in clear, consensual terms.

That right there is another reason why I like her and why I'm going to ignore common sense and fuck her on my desk. No one is headed to my office. Hell, half the people left at the firm are trashed out of their minds and likely doing questionable shit too.

Yes. I'm going to fuck you. Here. Now. How much have you...

She licks her lip again and I lose track of the question I wanted to ask. I'm listening to my dick, sure, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to do my best to fuck her until she walks sideways. Definitely doesn’t mean I’m not going to grab hold of control like I always do.

I step back. Put your hands on the desk.

Her brows go up at the demand. Like that? Without a please?

Did you think you’d get special treatment for being cute? Huh. Didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Yet her gaze goes soft. You think I’m cute?

I lean forward to whisper in her ear. Fucking you in my office is risky, can get us fired and a number of things that makes my blood run cold. I’m going to do it anyway because I find you irresistible. I pull back to hold her stare. Now get on the desk, Kennedy.

The blush is back. I ignore that and grip the edge of her shirt to yank it up to her belly button. She doesn't have flat abs. There's cushion for my fingers to sink into and I fucking want to. My head is spinning now. I'm not sure if that's the liquor or her. Let's be honest though, my entire focus rests on her jean's button.

You're beautiful. That's the liquor talking. It’s a goddamn vortex..

Focus, dammit.

I make sure that my knuckles brush against her stomach as I unzip her jeans. It truly is the little things. Her tits jostle beneath the cotton tee as her breathing shifts deeper, faster. I'll get to the girls. Hopefully. Her tits are a gift that should be unwrapped slowly, not when I'm slightly off my game.

Kick off your shoes.

She doesn't hesitate.

Lift, is the next direction as I drag both her jeans and her underwear down.

She's down to her socks, bra and shirt, and I have never seen a sexier woman half-naked. Shapely legs, thick hips—all fucking woman in between her thighs. I skim my gaze over her bare pussy.

I’ve been giving her hard demands, very little touching, and she’s been creaming in her panties over it all.

My need for control makes her wet.

I should have skipped two of those drinks I had earlier. My inhibitions have run to hide, and there’s just me and my need. I do no foreplay handshake. There's no teasing her slit with my fingers, whispering dirty words in her ear. Fuck, not even a kiss.

I bury my face between her thighs and eat her. One of her legs remains on the desk and the other I absently throw over my shoulder.

This is sloppy, and would be embarrassing, but her hips lift up to my mouth as a moan spills from hers. The urgency beating inside my chest calms. This isn't about an end goal. This is about pleasure. Hers. I push her leg up to give myself better access.

That simple move makes her clit sit up for me. She's not swollen enough for quick tongue flicks to send her over, so I suck her into my mouth—softly, slowly. She's sweet, tangy and perfect. I could spend the rest of the night eating her, not once getting tired of the way she flavors my taste buds.

If nothing else, I'm going to do this right. I place a hand over her slit and tug the skin back until her clit peeks from under its hood. Since there's no point in doing anything halfway, I close my mouth over her from clit to entrance and suck softly.

The way she gasps, the way she gets that much wetter turns my dick into steel. She's ready for tongue and I give it to her. I'm relentless. There's no part of her pussy that doesn't get lapped up.

The tremble starts in her legs and works its way up to a full body shudder.

Duke. Your mouth. I love it. She mashes the words together in a sexy groan.

She deserves to soak my chin. She tenses. Her flavor deepens. I don't stop licking her into oblivion. She pants my name and it has never sounded so damn good. I slip two fingers into her cunt, matching the pace of the pumps to my tongue flicks.

She shudders. I’m coming. Don’t...oh, god. Don’t stop.

I curl my fingers and end any thoughts or words she has left. Her cries are sharp but low. There won't be any screaming, and that has nothing to do with the way I've made a meal out of her. I can't think about where we are. Her scent, her taste surrounding my senses is all that matters. The insistent throb in my cock is second. I’m going to make her come again so I can slurp up her cream. Nothing has ever tasted better and I’m starving.

After she tenses a second time, she pushes my face away. Fuck. The picture she makes. While I was busy, Kennedy had tugged her shirt up over her breasts. One is partially exposed. From the erect position of her nipple, I can only assume she's been playing with it.

I tut. Did I say you could touch yourself?

She moans at the question instead of answering. I drag a finger between her folds, teasing her still.

Because not even during sex do I give into weakness, I straighten and ask, Did I, Kennedy?

She shakes her head.

Say it, I demand.

You didn't give me permission.

Any other time I'd teach you a lesson. When you're in my bed, you're mine. You play by my rules. I grasp her thighs and tug her to the edge of my desk. Depending on my mood, I'd give your clit a spanking. Or tell you to close that pretty mouth of yours around my cock.

She tilts her head back as she flushes from head to toe. She's turned on by the picture I'm painting. Why did I have those two extra drinks? Why the fuck didn't I take her home to do this right?

But since you're halfway there, I say, pull your bra up. Let me see you.

Do you always—are you always this bossy?

Yes. I swirl my thumb over her clit just to watch her lids lower. But if there is anything you want, I’ll give it to you.

She moans. I take note she scrapes her fingernails over her nipples as she tugs the material down. The lace pulls tight at the sides of her breasts, burning an image in my mind I will and can forever jack off to.

You're perfect, Kennedy. So fucking unbelievably sexy. I can't wait anymore.

My movements are swift and precise as I free my cock, slide on a condom, and then position the tip at her entrance. She’s hot, wet and so ready.

Pull back your knees.

Hard. I want it hard.

The pulse in my head pounds while I try to hold onto my control. I rub my cock in her wetness, teasing us both as I glide the tip over and around her clit. Her pink darkens for me, at what I'm doing.

Hard is the only thing I can give her, but I enter her slow. Her breath hitches. I stop to watch her face. She's looking at the way my dick stretches her. Her eyelids are low in that sex-drunk way. I edge back. Her pussy is beautiful around me. The tip of the condom glistens from her arousal. I see if she can take more this time. Again. Again. Until I'm pounding into her. Her titties bounce as I slam home.

I grit my teeth because I can't come until she does. Fuck, it's going to kill me to hold back. Her pussy feels made for me. When all of me slides home—I'm home. Soft. Tight. Wet. The back of my fucking head is throbbing from how good she feels.

I lean forward and nip her lobe. I need her to come and now. Is this hard enough? Want more?

Yes. More.

She's never sounded sexier. Don't ask for what you can't take.

She moans. More.

I pull out of her. Her gaze tracks down to my dick. Duke, she whispers.

My dick twitches. On your stomach. On my desk.

She bites her lip and smiles. I help her down, and she splays her hands over the wood. That move is followed with her arching her ass up. The smile is wide when she glances back at me and says, Like this?

I laugh. There's no point in replying. She's going to learn, the rough way, to not tease me. I wait until she's relaxed before I push deep inside her. Slow, easy, delicious strokes. She moans for more cock. I push deeper, reaching forward for her hair. Because I'm nothing if not thoughtful, I'm gentle as I wrap the red strands around my fist. I pull until her head is tilted back.

Then I fuck her. Hard.

Nothing like having a point to prove to keep from coming prematurely. I also have to close my eyes. Her ass slapping against me is too fucking much. Women work out to have every inch toned. Nothing to jiggle when they move. Nothing is more beautiful than fucking a woman from behind, and her ass responding to every thrust. It's hypnotic.

I can't watch something like that, not if I want her to come twice before I succumb.

But...this fucking woman.

Her pussy spasms around me and I'm going to die from my own orgasm if I let it take me now.

She purrs in the husky voice of hers. So big. So deep. I want to suck you so bad.

I lose my punishing rhythm. Her words have bypassed my focus and shot straight to my nuts. This hold she has on me,

Reviews for Hardcore

[Helena Garney Larsen · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

It took me a while to get used to her way of writing and how much Duke talks to the reader, but in the end, I did really enjoy it. I think I sympathise more with Duke than intended, because I think they are really hard on him. Yes, he behaves horribly, but not without reason. Her actions get smoothed over as if she hasn't really done something wrong.

[nelly · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I love books in the males perspective! The combination of seggs and romance is key here. Quick read but I enjoyed it a lot.

[Deb Pden · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Great dialogue..characters were real.. description of places and locations were very life like. The storyline was good. Definitely 18 and older...sex talking, explicit bedroom scenes. Enjoy!

[Tara Johnson · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

When you become so immersed in abook that you want to pause the ending you know that the author captured the feelings and the struggles of this great romance filled with all sorts of issues that made this book one of my top shelf reading material. Enjoyable.

[Carol Hoover · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Hard to follow. Not sure what the plot is. The writer needs to learn more words than fuck.