Down to Ash (#Dirtysexygeeks Book 2)

by Melissa Blue

  He’d known that eventually, the shit had to hit the fan. They'd given him two weeks to stew. Shit, that much time was more than he'd expected, much less deserved. So he parked and climbed out of his car.

  They stood outside his front door like over-hyped bodyguards, looking as though they were waiting to let off some 'roid rage. Victor didn't need them to say they were here for Ash. Their stance and expression relayed that message. Her big brothers were here to check out the guy dating her.

  Fuck me.

  Wade motioned for him to open the door. The silence was tense, though not actively hostile. Taking that as a good sign, Victor pressed between him and Grady to unlock it.

  Once inside, he put his back to the wall and faced his friends. They spread out to his couch and two armchairs.

  Wade dug out the remote from deep in the cushions, turned on the TV, and flipped through channels. He hadn't gone for the PlayStation or the Xbox situated under the flat screen. That and that alone told Victor that Wade's presence was begrudging at best. Grady must have talked to him, using reason first and then probably threats. Not to mention, a reminder of the last time things got ugly.

  With that in mind, Victor stood near his kitchen, his body damn near vibrating from the defensive stance he'd taken. Even though he could guess they weren't there to fight, he'd been edging toward a cliff anyway.

  He'd broken the code. He'd left marks on Ash. Porter probably wanted him dead in about six thousand ways. He hadn't really talked to Ashley about missing his friend, and since he'd fucked up all his friendships...

  Not able to take another moment of silence, he barked, “What the hell?”

  All three friends glanced in his direction, but only Wade spoke. “Porter's a dick.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  Oliver snorted. “You are, too.”

  Vic narrowed his eyes, confused, but his chest was tight from hope. It wasn't a light emotion. He had to hold onto too many beliefs about a good, fair world filled with kind selfless people. “I'll admit that.”

  Wade said, “But for you to be with Ash, knowing what that means...” His friend hissed. “You're toast. Worse off than Grady, and he's starting to resemble a vulva.”

  Grady's face didn't change as he fisted his hand and pumped it up and down. “You keep throwing these insults my way and I'm still waiting to hear about your girlfriend Handley. Butt ugly and hairy, but has a grip like a Hoover.”

  No one could keep a straight face at that. The shared laughter felt good, so damn good...but what about his friend? Where was he in all this?

  Victor asked, “Porter?”

  Oliver scowled. “Still MIA.”

  Vic deepened his frown. “What do you guys think you know?”

  Grady spread his hands. “Ash talks to Eva now and Eva talks to me.”

  Victor cursed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “And you gossip to them.”

  “Pretty much,” Grady agreed, “but I get the sanitized version. I start making faces if Eva talks about you having sex with Ashley.” Grady shuddered. “She's like my sister.”

  Oliver nodded but Wade only glared.

  Victor shook his head. “I don't—”

  He had to swallow down the word “deserve.” They’d never cared about what he'd done or seen. He had the tendency to be a bit of a sleazebag on his worst days. On his best days, Victor liked to think he was there for them when they needed him to be. He had a shit-ton of family through blood, but this was the family he chose. And if they’d let him, he'd choose them again and again until the day he died.

  Wade laughed. “I think he's going to cry.”

  “Screw you, Wade,” Victor said on a laugh, but it had to get past the lump in his throat first.

  “You're not my type, and I'm still not sure if I should kick your ass or not.”

  Victor snorted. “Didn't we already do that when you had a manic episode and I beat the shit out of you?”

  Wade winced. “I was literally asking for it but that's beside the point.” He set down the remote. “For the record, we weren't going to get in the middle of this.”

  Victor leaned against the kitchen wall. “What changed?”

  Grady scrubbed a hand down his face. “Eva and Ash were in the living room—”

  “You eavesdropped?” he asked with an exaggerated shocked tone. “Nooooooo.”

  The other man didn't laugh as expected. “I heard exactly what Porter said to her.”

  She hadn't gone into detail, but from the way she'd cried on Victor’s shoulder for close to an hour, the confrontation must have been bad. Had to be why even though Victor had broken his word, he still wanted to wring Porter's neck.

  Victor hunched his shoulders. “But that's not all.”

  No one spoke as though they were uncomfortable to bring up the obvious. And, hell, they didn't need to. Victor's PTSD wasn't as big of a problem as it used to be, but it was still a problem.

  He shook his head. “So who will hold my hand if I need to cross the street?”

  Wade asked, “The crazy street?” Of course Wade didn't give a fuck about PC language. He went on before anyone could correct him, “Grady has enough on his plate. Guess I should volunteer.”

  He raised his brows at the offer. “Thanks, I think.”

  “Don't go soft on me. I just want the excuse to subdue you in a violent way.”

  Victor swallowed the laugh. Wade would only feel vindicated. “Be still my heart. How much you care about me makes my panties wet.”

  “I do what I can, Victor.”

  Victor pushed off the wall. “Well, I need sleep. It helps.”

  Oliver scrubbed at his chin when no one moved. “Go ahead.”

  That's when it hit Victor. They'd come for all the reasons they'd listed. They'd also come by to see him with Ashley. “Fucking voyeurs. Get out.”

  Grady and Oliver got really interested in the TV show playing on the flat screen.

  Wade grinned. “What? She kicked your ass in Warfare. We couldn't pay attention to much else. Now we can. Invite her over.”

  Annoyed but amused, Victor dug his phone out of his pocket.

  He texted Ash: The Goon Squad is at my house. Abort mission.

  Why?

  Oliver said in a faux whisper, “Look, he's texting her.”

  Grady said, “And he's smiling. Shit. Are we high, or is this really happening?”

  Have you met these idiots? he replied back.

  You love them. I'll bring food.

  He could only shake his head before putting his phone away. “Wake me up when she gets here.”

  “We will,” Wade promised.

  Of course they wouldn't. At least not at first. They'd need fodder to relentlessly tease him with for the rest of his life. Victor didn't mind…too much. Most of his family was in his home. That was all that mattered.

  *****

  Something was off. Ash knew it, so she ushered the boys out of Victor’s door after two hours. Of course they complained. For what was maybe the first time in history, they hadn't seen her as or treated her like Porter's little sister. She felt good, and for a little while, the new rapport had been good for Victor, too.

  Until it hadn't been.

  She closed the door behind them.

  They were alone, in his space this time. Being in his apartment and seeing he'd painted his walls a navy blue was strange. Just as strange was for her to sit on his couches and know they were picked for comfort instead of style. That pretty much explained his entire décor—comfortable, dependable. Like him. Or would be, if he wasn't on edge.

  She had to fix that, and went looking for him.

  Ash found Victor in the kitchen cleaning every surface like a new recruit expecting a white glove test. That, too, was off. She leaned against the counter with enough space between them he'd remain calm.

  “Vic,” she kept her voice soft.

  “You heading out?” He didn't look up but attacked the stove.

  It was already
clean. “Vic, look at me.”

  He didn't. “You should go.”

  He was stubborn but he was hers for now. So she was going to take care of him. She remained relaxed, as best she could. If he read a line of tension in her stance, that could make the situation worse.

  “What do you need?”

  He stopped long enough to brace his hands on the stove, still not meeting her gaze. His shoulders were high and tight. “I need you to go.”

  She swallowed. “It helps if you don't cut yourself off. If you needed Oliver or someone to stay, you should have said so before I booted them.”

  He shut his eyes and just breathed. An anxious tension rolled off him. Cautious, she pushed away from the counter and approached him. Placing a hand on his back, she tried to soothe him. He didn't react one way or another for a long while, but eventually the tension holding him stiff loosened. She found the knot in his back and rubbed at the remaining bunched muscles in a circular motion.

  Victor scoffed. “You don't believe in self-preservation, do you?”

  He was talking. She'd take it. “I wasn't going to leave you alone like this.”

  “Next time you should.”

  It was her turn to tense at his desperate tone. He was pushing her back into the gilded cage. She tamped down her irritation.

  He cupped her chin. “Run, Ash.”

  She considered his request, then his face. The only word that fit was torn. He looked like he hoped that she wouldn't run while praying that she could. None of that mattered.

  “Would you let me?” she asked.

  “If I had to.” He dropped his hand.

  That was the last answer she'd ever expected to hear. She stepped back, surprised and a little hurt. “Just like that?”

  “Nothing about us is easy.” He grabbed her shirt and tugged her back to him.

  She took his face in her hands, lifted on the tips of her toes, and kissed him. He made a soft rumbling noise, sliding his hands down to her ass. She gave a little hop, and he lifted her until she closed her legs around his waist.

  She laughed against his mouth. “I knew you would catch me if I did that.”

  “Determined,” he offered as an easy explanation before taking the kiss deeper.

  But he was right. Nothing about them was easy. Weeks ago, she'd kissed him for the first time because she couldn’t not kiss him. She chose Vic to be hers. That was new for her and he was talking about walking away if he had to.

  She tightened her legs around his waist as he delved his tongue in and out of her mouth.

  He couldn't leave her. Ash wasn't ready for them to end. Tendrils of fear tried to edge their way into her heart, because she didn't think she had ever felt that urge with any man. What had he done to her?

  But he was dipping his tongue into her mouth and that waylaid her worries. Again and again she took him in until they were both panting and needed to come up for air.

  Her head was spinning. “Take me to bed, Vic.”

  “If we're going to do this, we're going to do this right.” He loosened his hold and she settled back on her feet. He moved like lightning and had her over his shoulder before she could blink. He laughed when he smacked her ass.

  “Caveman,” she said, breathless.

  He sauntered to his room, likely full of male pride for catching her off guard, but he was gentle when he placed her on the bed. There was still an edge to him, which was such a contrast to the calm way he undressed. No urgency to his movements. Just a crooked smile as he watched her watching him from the bed.

  He shook his head, edging closer to the mattress. “You're not going to get undressed?”

  “Busy.” His dick hung low and hard between his legs, and she was busy staring at it.

  “Pervert.” But his grin widened.

  She got lightheaded. God, he was so beautiful. “Every time you smile, you lose street cred. Stop it.”

  He bent over the bed, resting a hand along her hip and brushed his mouth along hers. “You only say that because it makes you dizzy.”

  Ash couldn't deny the truth, so she patted the space next to her. “Get into bed with me.”

  He climbed in, caging her between his legs. She started to say something, but he took her mouth, her tongue. Not urgently, but deeply. Intensely.

  Her world narrowed to him and his mouth, and the subtle way he dominated her.

  He swept his tongue in and out and when she moaned, he tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth. She followed him, sitting up just enough to keep their mouths touching and to do some taking of her own. He pressed a hand to her chest to settle her back onto the mattress, licking into her mouth.

  “Vic.”

  “Begging already?”

  How could she not when every time they kissed it felt like he was ripping something out of her? It hurt so good that it left her mindless, without ego or pride. Just heart and skin, and he made love to both with just his mouth.

  She murmured his name again against his lips, but he took his time tugging her shirt over her head and then removed her pants and panties. He wanted to go slowly. Why now? She wanted rough—needed him to leave scratches or bite marks. He was too worried about taking care instead of just taking everything she offered.

  So she pushed him back to the foot of the bed. Kept pushing until his eyes lit with understanding. She wanted to take control.

  He dragged her with him when he fell back onto the mattress. They were still kissing, and their teeth clacked together.

  She laughed and he did the same. “Ash, you're trying to maim me.”

  “Only a little.” She straddled his lap and let her gaze rove over him. A deep scar covered his right pec. He'd covered it with a tiger. “Where'd you get it?”

  “South Korea.” His smile was sad. “I made it to my homeland. Only took thirty or so years. It was beautiful there. But the taxi drivers are also assholes.”

  “That's universal.” She leaned forward and whispered into his ear, “But how'd you get the scar?”

  He gripped her ass and rocked his hips, likely to distract her. She laughed and then moaned when his dick rubbed against her clit. His tactic worked, but she still stole a second to kiss the scar.

  Maybe it showed on her face she was about to push for more, because he gripped his dick with one hand and lifted her with the other. She caught sight of them in the vanity mirror in his closet, just their bare limbs. Her face heated and she had to look away. With the next breath he'd slipped into her.

  “Take me, Ash. Take all of me. No questions.”

  She took all of him, grinding when her pelvis slapped against his hips, knocking the mattress against the headboard behind her. He groaned, murmuring words too low for her to hear, so she did it again and again. She grabbed the foot of the bed just to hold on.

  Victor tilted his head back, exposing his Adam's apple. His lips parted, but he continued to murmur. She kept up the slow, sensual rhythm, grinding her clit against him with every downstroke.

  Her insides tightened then loosened, and a rush of arousal soaked them both.

  He started to move his hips, too, his hands searching for her waist.

  She leaned forward, curled into him, and let their hips do most of the work.

  “Ash, you are so beautiful. So wet, too. Fuck me. Just like that. So damn perfect.”

  Maybe she shouldn't have leaned to hear his words. They were mutterings of worship. But she rocked into him harder and let him stroke deeper inside her. Even when she came for the second time, he didn't loosen his hold on her waist. Her knees were giving out from the pleasure washing over her.

  “Don't,” he said, and she stilled because he always said the same thing.

  “Vic?”

  “No. No. Don't stop, Ash. Feels so damn good.” He dug his nails into her and took control, losing his in the process as he pumped into her.

  She grabbed hold of his arms and let sensation take over. They were in a race—for what, she didn't know. They were both going to w
in. As her heart threatened to explode, she chanted his name over and over, so damn lost in him.

  Her pussy clenched tightly, and she stiffened above him. He was muttering again and groaning. She came apart, melting into him as the orgasm took her under. He kept pounding into her for another minute until he reached the same euphoria.

  By then, she was drifting. Without having to look, she knew he hadn't left any marks, but he was tattooed into her bones.

  She was still drifting as he kissed her neck. Content to be wrapped in his arms, she fell asleep.

  ****

  Ash woke, chilled. Vic wasn't in the bed. He always was when they’d spent the night together.

  “Shit.”

  She'd fallen asleep before him and should have known better. Vic had been on edge for weeks—hadn't been sleeping as well as he could have been. Those two actions were all signs. She hadn't left because of them, but she had hoped...

  Sighing, she picked up his shirt from the floor, slipped into it, and followed the sound of muted gunfire, likely from the TV.

  For a second, relief rushed in at seeing him, but something wasn't right. He stood in the living room, staring off to his left, stock-still and breathing way too hard.

  Confusion took hold. Why the hell was he just standing there?

  Then her heart stopped. He was trapped in a memory. She cursed. Any hope she’d had left flitted away. This was why she'd meant to coax him to sleep first. Even that wasn’t a guarantee he wouldn't wake up drenched in sweat from a dream. He had done that many of the nights they'd spent together. But at least he'd gotten some sleep.

  She knew what to do, but to watch him caught in the clutches of an episode almost broke her. Her knees trembled. She kept breathing in and out, out and in. Freaking out wouldn't help him. She had to be his anchor.

  Calm.

  Ash leaned against the wall for some kind of support as his face crumbled into a mask of pain. She had to bring him back to her.

  “Vic, baby?”

  His gaze snapped to hers, his eyes glassy and unseeing. That was good. He could hear her over the roar likely going on in his head. “Vic, come here. It's okay. You're okay. You're home.”

  He shook his head slowly like he was trying to come to terms with the past and his current reality. She couldn't know what it was like. Couldn't cure him of this either, but she could be calm, his safe haven.