Take (Need #2)

by K. I. Lynn

  Tightening his arms to the point of pain, he thrusts up, his chest heaving beneath mine. “Answer me, Kira. I want to know you need me just as bad as I need you.”

  Can’t give him that. No way. And it doesn’t matter, because he feels so fucking good right now that I’m already close to coming again. I let my head fall back, riding each thrust of his hips. His dick presses into my clit, delicious friction.

  “Talk to me, baby.”

  I moan, but refuse to do as he says.

  He cups the back of my neck and bites into it as hard as he can.

  I scream out, eyes opening at the pain—

  An orgasm starts ripping through me. Hot. Wild. Perfect.

  Brayden pulls my hips away from his, taking away the pressure I so desperately need.

  “No!” I cry, clawing at him like an animal.

  “You won’t admit it? Fine,” he growls, lifting me up over his shoulder.

  My pussy throbs, still on the verge. I kick my legs and beat on his back, maddened from the frustration. “Fuck you, asshole! Fuck you!”

  He takes four massive steps across the living room and flings me violently onto the couch. “No, fuck you, woman.” Reaching down, he rips open his jeans. “I adore you, and you won’t fucking admit it to yourself.”

  I hate this motherfucker. I hate him more than he could possibly ever understand.

  His vest lands on the floor.

  I rise up on my knees.

  Reaching over his head, he yanks his shirt up and off, throwing it God knows where.

  Moving closer, I slap his chest with both my hands, trying to push him back. “No. You don’t get to decide when you fuck me.”

  He steps forward and reaches around me to clasp the back of my top. One rough yank and I feel it rip open. “Yes. I. Do.”

  I try to hit him again but he grabs my hands, forcing them down to his open jeans. “Get these off me.” He goes to work pulling my tutu and thong down my hips.

  His pants are pushed down his legs. I glare at him the entire time, hating this feeling of powerlessness. “I really can’t stand you.”

  He lifts me up like I weigh nothing, slides the tutu off my legs, and places me back on the couch. “And I really can’t live without you.”

  Ugh!

  “Stop lying to me, damn you.” I rip my gloves off.

  “Stop lying to yourself.” He kicks off his shoes and jeans, standing before me in nothing but that sexy leather cuff and all the ink covering his body.

  And dear God, there’s so much of it now. I try to fully make out the tattoo on his side but I’m too unfocused to do so.

  When I reach up to pull the cat ears off my head, he stops me. “No. Leave them on.”

  Kinky motherfucker.

  My nipples stiffen painfully. I reach for his cock and give it a brutal squeeze, using the hold to pull him to me. “Fine. Just shut the fuck up and come fuck me.”

  He laughs, his smile so beautiful that my heart punches at my ribcage. Pressing me into the back of the couch, he climbs on, braced on his knees just like I am. He grabs onto the back of the sofa and leans down to kiss me.

  I accept his kiss, but sink my nails deep into his shoulders, making sure he knows I’m not fully ready to give in.

  Smiling against my lips, he slides his body up and down, his erection trapped between us. The damp head wets my abdomen. Goddamn, I still can’t get used to the fact that I can make him leak precome that easily.

  I clasp his face with both hands and run my tongue over the seam of his lips. His hands slide down my sides, stopping briefly to cup my ass.

  Then I’m in the air again, the world spinning as Brayden turns around and sits on the couch. No time to think. He forces me back on my knees until my pussy is aligned with his face.

  He moves lower.

  I fist his hair. “No. I want your cock. Now.”

  Shaking my fist loose, he latches onto my thighs and forces me closer. “And I want that clit on my tongue.”

  A man who doesn’t like to be denied.

  Damn it, why does everything he does turn me on even more?

  His eyes gleam up at me wickedly. “Either grab the back of the couch, or hold onto the back of my head. But don’t try to stop me.”

  Considering he’s only giving me those two options, of course I lace my fingers in his hair.

  He licks his lips. “That’s my girl.”

  I’m not going to last. One touch of his tongue and I’m going to fly over the edge. “You better fuck me as soon as I come.”

  “Hmmm. I’m going to fuck you all over this apartment.” His soft lips press against my pussy and his tongue snakes out, licking a slow path from my entrance to my clit.

  I exhale a shaky breath, moving my pussy up and down that luscious tongue.

  But he takes it away from me too damn soon. He blows lightly on my engorged clit, teasing me.

  “Brayden, come on!”

  Smiling, he tugs my clit between his lips. He cups my ass in each hand to hold me still as he sucks it into his mouth. This asshole has me right where he wants me, and I can’t even fight him! I’m throbbing on his tongue, my mind focused only on the pleasure.

  I grab onto the back of the couch with one hand and use the other to press his head to me. He torments me with light flicks of his tongue, never giving me the exact amount of pressure I need to come.

  My hips writhe frantically, trying to get him in the right spot.

  “Yeah, baby. That’s what I want. Ride my face.”

  He doesn’t have to tell me twice. “Suck me harder, Brayden. Please. I need to come.”

  His eyes snap open, flashing up at me with all the hunger of a dangerous predator. With a frustrated growl, he sets in, tonguing me hard, so hard I almost can’t take it.

  That pain, the pressure, it’s too much—

  He softens the strokes of his tongue, kissing me tenderly.

  It sends me over the edge. I lock up and whimper incoherently as the wave crashes over me.

  Brayden licks up every bit of my orgasm. The horny, frantic sounds he makes leave me bucking wantonly on his mouth.

  I just came, and as always I need more, more.

  When will it ever end?

  He rips me off his mouth. My thighs shake. It’s impossible to hold myself up. Hands wrapped around my waist, he lifts me again, maneuvering me under him on the couch.

  I whisper his name, my heart hammering in my rib cage.

  Brayden crawls over me, cupping my face. “I’m not done with you, baby.”

  Fuck, I remember what happened the last time he said that to me.

  Oh God, can I even take any more?

  He lowers his mouth down to mine, feeding me my own taste, and I know without a doubt that I can.

  I’ll take everything he can give me.

  And then I plan on taking even more.

  I plan on taking everything I can from this man.

  My eyes snap open as my whole body jumps with a jolt. I’m in my bed, on my side, curled around a pillow. Light tickles on my skin, tracing lines around my ribs, around my tattoo. The touch is soft, familiar, soothing, and instead of swatting it away, annoyed someone dare touch me there, I relax back into my pillow. I open my eyes again as it clicks who could be touching me and crane my neck over my shoulder.

  Kira.

  She’s completely naked, sitting on her haunches, staring down at my tattoo as her fingers trail around. Her hair is a wild, tangled mess, evidence of the many times I fisted it, the ends resting just above her nipples.

  It feels like a dream and I wait to wake up, staring at her.

  I can’t help the smile forming on my face as the memories of last night come back. My cock stirs as I remember being inside her.

  My Kira.

  “Morning.” My voice is rough, throat dry.

  She looks up, her gaze meeting mine, but my happiness doesn’t reflect back.

  “When did you get this?” she asks.

  I swallo
w hard and rest my head back on the pillow while still looking at her. “Last August.”

  Her brow scrunches, and she turns back to it. “Why? I mean, why this?”

  I clench my jaw and draw in a breath. “Can we not, right now? Can you just lie back down?”

  She shakes her head. “What does it mean?”

  I reach out to bring her attention back to me. If I’m going to tell her, she needs more than just her ears to hear it. “At first, I was just drunk and getting a tattoo, but I saw this in the guy’s notebook. My drunk mind knew what my sober one couldn’t admit, so I didn’t even understand why at first.”

  Her fingers stop. “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s part of the story, so let me finish.” I pinch her side and she swats at the closest part of me, which happens to be my ass.

  “What does it mean, then?”

  “You’re into art . . . don’t you see it? Ryan told me recently he knew what it meant.”

  She huffs, annoyed. “Just tell me, jackass.”

  “It’s us.”

  Her eyes widen and she stares back down at it, crawling around the mermaid’s hair.

  “You know I’m not into that sickly sweet romance crap, that I’m emotionally stunted, but when I saw the drawing . . . It was the perfect representation of us, at that time.” I brush the backs of my fingers against her cheek. “Both have feelings for each other, but it’s an impossible relationship. A man in a world he can’t live, wanting a woman he can’t have.”

  Her face twists, and I wonder if she’s about to cry, wonder if I’ve finally gotten to her. Instead, she grabs my wrist and pulls my arm away from the pillow, sending me onto my back, spread out. There are no tears, but anger as she straddles my hips and places her palms on my chest.

  She slaps at the K over my heart. “And this? What the fuck is this?”

  This conversation needs to happen, but my cock is hard and twitches at the feel of her pussy on my lower abs, so close to its home inside her. I want to push down on her hips and slide in.

  My seething, hissing Kitty is so angry at me, and I realize that last night did not win the war, just the first of many battles to come. The pain I etched in her is too deep to fill in only one night. Even after the mending we’ve done.

  “Your brand on me.”

  “I didn’t put it there.”

  “Maybe not this physical representation, but you did eleven years ago. What lies beneath, my heart, has been yours since then.”

  Her teeth are bared at me, eyes on fire and boring so hard into me. “Liar.”

  I reach up with my left hand to cup her cheek and she flinches away, then slams my arm back down to the bed. All of her weight rests on it as she stares at the little grey-wash kitty with her eye color. Her face twists again, and a single tear begins to slide down her cheek.

  Finally, she sees them, understands that all of my tattoos represent her. Nailed into my flesh for all to see her ownership of me.

  I reach up with my other hand and swipe away the tear with my thumb. For the briefest of seconds, she leans into my touch before pulling back and sitting up.

  Both of us gasp as her pussy lands right on my cock. I can’t help but arch my hips, sliding it along her wet lips.

  Fire fills her eyes, different from the rage, darkening them as she moves her body with mine. A shudder moves through her when the head of my cock slips across her clit. Placing her hands on my chest, she picks up her hips and reaches between us, gripping my dick and placing the tip at her entrance.

  I’m entranced by the vision, waiting for her to sink down, watch it disappear inside her. When she moves, sitting down on me, taking my cock in her, my eyes roll back, lids fluttering. I don’t even get to see it due to the sheer intensity of my Kira’s wet warmth wrapping around me.

  She draws in a trembling breath, nails digging into my skin. Hips up, then down a little. Up and then down again until she has all of my cock shoved up her cunt.

  I stare down, watching as she sits back, resting her hands on my thighs, letting me see my cock stretching her fucking tight pussy. There’s never been a more perfect sight, but when I look up and catch her gaze, it’s cold, even with the lust.

  “I’ll fuck you, use you, but I’ll never be yours.”

  She sits forward again and raises her hips before dropping again. Up and down, riding me, taking from me.

  I curl my fingers around her waist and squeeze, then trail up her sides until I reach her tits. Her nipples are already hard, and she lets out soft little moans as I lightly run my fingers over them. A loud gasp leaves her, eyes popping open when I pinch them and pull, flicking as I let them go.

  I want to reply, but every thought I have gets blasted away each time I bottom out in her.

  Her moans and squeals grow louder when I thrust up, pushing her down with one hand while the other continues to play with her tits.

  She’s close, and so am I.

  Sitting up, I tangle my hand in the hair at the base of her neck, drawing her close.

  “Fuck me, use me all you want. It won’t change the fact that I fucking love you, and I know you love me.” Her face scrunches up in the most erotic come face. I grab onto her ass, pushing and pulling her along my cock as I thrust up. My teeth are bared, scraping against the column of her neck as I fight off the urge to come, waiting for her. “I’m yours, and you. Are. Fucking. Mine!”

  Her walls clamp down on me like a motherfucking vice, her screams filling the room. A roar rips out of me, my arms clamped down on her, holding her tight as I empty in her.

  Bare.

  My boys released, searching for their target—one they won’t reach. Not yet, but one day, I kinda like the idea of them finding it, filling her body with the perfect combination of the two of us.

  I fall back down to the bed, taking her with me, chests expanding as we gasp for breath.

  I wake with a start. I’d been flying, then falling, crashing down to the earth. Now I’m shaken, confused. Where am I?

  Something squeezes me, pulls me in. It takes a split second to gain my bearings.

  A fraction to realize where I am—in Brayden’s bed, tangled up in his arms. His breath is soft against my neck.

  And I remember I’m naked.

  He’s naked.

  We had sex more times than I can count on one hand.

  It was . . . a million times better than my fantasies.

  His hands, his body, his cock.

  The electronic vibe that pulsed through me.

  Being so close to him is misery—heaven and hell.

  I need closer to him.

  I need away from him.

  With a deep breath, I maneuver my way out of his iron grip, trying my best not to wake him.

  I need to get out of here unseen.

  Slow and steady, I break away, sitting up. Looking behind me, I’m stunned by the sight of him, of Brayden. He’s more beautiful and perfect than one of Michelangelo’s statues.

  A modern day David.

  I have to get away from the spell he has on me. It always turns me into a stupid girl ruled by a childish fantasy of a bygone love.

  My steps are soft, silent, and on the wobbly side as I make my way out of the room. I’m so weak I can barely stand, my legs no longer made of muscle and bone. Somehow I make it to the bathroom, once again keeping the noise down.

  I try and remember how I got here and where exactly here is. It’s all a blur, lost in a lust-filled haze. I hadn’t even been drinking yet, but I was obviously drunk off Brayden.

  We’re in his apartment, I know that much.

  But how the hell am I getting out of here?

  I sneak out of the bathroom and into the living area of his apartment. It’s a small one bedroom with a kitchen and living area. Not very big, but just right for one guy.

  We started out on the couch, and I curse when my pussy clenches at just that small thought. Somewhere near that cursed couch, the one I helped him pick out, should be my belon
gings. I hope my phone still has some battery.

  The room is a wreck, dashing my hopes I’ll find everything. Boxes of furniture everywhere, remnants of packaging, along with a lot of his stuff, including our clothing strewn everywhere. The search for my clothing results in nothing but a few rags.

  Panties—lost.

  Tutu—hides nothing.

  Bra—torn.

  Fuck.

  I try to push the memories away of how they ended up this way, but the pulsing pain won’t let me. Every movement reminds me.

  His body.

  His need.

  My own.

  I was right. I always knew—Brayden isn’t a one time fuck.

  Not for me.

  The absoluteness of this sends me to the floor. This was why. I miss him inside me, now that I know how good it is. I want more.

  No. Not a want. A need.

  An itch I scratched and shouldn’t have, because I knew my body has always known I’d want more.

  I can’t be here when he wakes.

  I spot my phone under a makeshift table and reach for it. Waking it up, I sigh in relief. There isn’t much power left, but it’s enough to contact someone. My fingers fly on the screen as I text my girls.

  911 I need a ride.

  I glance down again and groan. Years of pent-up lust is painted all over my skin, and I’m still naked with nothing to wear.

  Across the room is Brayden’s duffle, the one he always travels with, and I pray it has something I can wear inside.

  As I unzip the bag, I sigh with relief—everything is neatly folded. Clean. Sitting on top is a Purdue T-shirt I’ve seen him wear, and I slip it on before digging down further.

  Pants are out of the question—he’s a foot taller than me. I luck out with a pair of basketball shorts. They still hit mid-calf on me, but at least there’s a drawstring to help keep the waist up.

  My phone chimes beside me, and I grab for it to silence the ringer.

  Recon mission? I’m in. Where are you?

  Jenna, my savior.

  I type back, needing out now.

  Columbus.

  I love my friends. It takes seconds for her to respond. I swear Jenna has the fastest fingers I’ve ever seen.