Wild Rebel

by Laurelin Paige

  Impatiently, I undid her pants, only bothering to push them down to her knees. I needed her ass, needed her flesh in my hands, needed it so urgently that I didn’t even try to take off her panties. I just pushed through the leg holes until I had a cheek in each hand and gripped tightly, peering over her shoulder at the erotic sight.

  Damn, she felt good. Supple and pliable and, Jesus, I could become obsessed with this ass. I could make a full-time job of fondling and massaging and licking and fucking this gorgeous round ass.

  This time when I spanked her, I was angry at myself. For wanting her so much. For letting her exceed my expectations. For being so goddamned fascinated with my reddened palm print on her ass. I slapped her again, sharply. And again.

  She squealed at each strike, a sound that called directly to my already stiff cock, making him stand up as though Jolie was his drill sergeant, calling him to attention. He was ready to take her. He wanted nothing more than to bury into her pussy, reclaim her. Get lost there. Lose control.

  But there was a risk to feeling so wild. Especially with her.

  In an attempt to find my balance, I pushed her against the wall, startling her lips from my skin. I placed my hands at either side of her neck, fingers spread, and lifted her chin with my thumbs, then looked directly into her hooded eyes.

  The thing was, me and Jolie—we were more complicated than a quick fuck or even a long fuck. I’d been a hypocrite calling her out for being someone who turned sex into something more. Anything that happened between us had to be more than just physical, not only because that was what I wanted, but because there wasn’t any other way with her. With us. We’d always been more than what we should have been. It had been our curse.

  It had been our fortune too.

  I needed to know if she understood what this would be before it got too far to redefine. My mouth hovered inches above hers, our lips parted, and tried to stare into her. Was there any of what we used to be still inside her? Or was all of this one-sided? Was I carrying this fucked up torch on my own?

  I wanted answers to questions I couldn’t bring myself to ask, hoping I wouldn’t have to. Hoping she’d just know, and I’d know in return.

  But while I was searching her eyes, she brought her hand to the steel pole in my jeans and rubbed up and down the length with a pressure that made me insane, and after that, I couldn’t concentrate on worrying about what this was or what this wasn’t. My thoughts descended into a primal state, and all hopes of staying tame disappeared.

  In a flash, her sweater was gone. Unlike when I’d removed it earlier, this time I gave all my focus to what was underneath, desperately kissing along the skin above her bra while my hands reached behind to undo the clasp. When the garment fell off her shoulders, I caught her breasts with my palms and plumped them a little harder than I should, unable to restrain myself.

  She leaned into my touch and moaned, her fingers wrapping into my sweater and clinging for stability, and all I could think was it’s about fucking time. It was her turn to be off-balance. Her turn to be reeling.

  And bonus that she seemed to like the rough because I didn’t think there was much chance I could be any other way. There was too much pent up inside of me. Too many years of longing. Too much resentment. Too much hate that might have been love or love that might have been hate, and I needed her to feel all of it, whether she understood it or not.

  I pinched at a nipple, twisting it until she gasped, then tortured it with soft strokes of my tongue, then moved to her other breast and took that peak by my teeth, clamping down until she jerked back with a cry.

  Even as she pulled away, she begged for more.

  I’d imagined her pleading a million times, usually with my cock in my fist and my eyes shut tight. I hadn’t been able to rely on memory for this. We’d been inexperienced lovers when we’d first been together, our sex talk sweet and awkward, matching the actual sex. I’d been long gone by the time my desires had turned dirtier, and when I’d placed her in my fantasies, she’d adjusted to fit my wants.

  But my imaginings had never been half as tantalizing as the real thing—her eyes tearing, her lips swollen and quivering, her cheeks flushed as she cried, “Please, Cade. Please. Please, fuck me. Please, please, please.”

  As though we’d orchestrated it, while she pulled down her panties to join her jeans at her knees, I took the three steps to the minibar and grabbed what we needed, grateful for the modern-day hotel custom of stocking condoms.

  Back in front of her, I ripped open the foil square while she unfastened my pants. She brought out my cock, her hands small and dainty compared to the red, veined stick she held. I handed her the condom and half watched her roll it on, half took in her half-naked state.

  Earlier, in a room full of men who only wanted to objectify her, I’d wanted to be the one man to respect her. I’d been careful to only look at her eyes. Now I soaked up every inch of her like she was a Playboy centerfold, letting every lewd impulse have free rein of my mind. Her full, fuckable tits would feel spectacular in my hands. I could feast on her trim pussy. I could lick up the moisture glistening on her lips or gather it on my fingers to lube up her ass. I could use her and fuck her and destroy her in so many ways that she deserved. In so many ways that she didn’t.

  But then my gaze returned to her face, to the eyes that windowed into the soul of a woman that I would never stop crawling toward. She had a noose around my neck, leading me like a dog, and faithful pet that I was, I would always come back seeking her love, whether she was done with me or not.

  Did she know? Did she have any idea at all?

  She rose up on her tiptoes to brush her lips to mine. If she kissed me now, there would be no hiding. No more pretense. No way to hold back.

  Not ready for that level of vulnerability, I refused her kiss and spun her around so she faced the wall. So she didn’t face me. Reaching between her legs, I made sure she was as wet and ready as she’d looked, then when she pushed her ass back and begged again, this time for my cock, I notched my crown at the mouth of her pussy and drove in.

  Being inside her, after all this time, was indescribable. Neither of us were the same. Our bodies had changed. Our behavior had changed.

  And still there was an easiness to our fit. A rhythm that didn’t have to be learned. Filthy as it was—her cheek pressed against the wall as I pounded into her, the slapping of our thighs, the gasping cries tumbling from her lips, the butterfly pulses of her pussy around my cock—it was far from the innocent lovemaking of our youth. I’d never fucked her like this. We’d never fucked at all.

  And still, she was Jolie. She was my Jolie, and every part of my body acknowledged the difference between her and every other woman I’d been with. None compared to her. None were anything like this.

  I tried to forget that and lose myself in just another pussy, an impossible task when she craned her head around in an attempt to recapture my lips. She managed a brief kiss that had my legs feeling like they might give out. That had my chest feeling like it might explode.

  Capturing her hands, I turned her again to face the wall. I kept her like that, my fingers threaded through hers, holding her in place so I could fuck her with abandon while she alternated between pleading not to stop and begging for more.

  Then her litany changed. “Touch me, Cade. Please, I need you to touch me.” It wasn’t only the words that were different in these pleas, but the texture of their sound. They were thin and stretched, like it had taken a lot to ask. Like she’d wanted to be selfless. Like she’d thought there was a reward in keeping her needs to herself, but finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore and gave in to her craving.

  There was a version of me that wanted to deny her pleasure. Not in a kinky, fun way, but in a way that made her feel insignificant and used.

  But I was as selfish as she was, and I wanted to hear her come, wanted to feel her pussy squeeze me tight, wanted to make sure she remembered this fuck and that she got wet whenever she did.


  So I moved one hand to pinch her tit and the other to rub between her legs.

  It didn’t take much after that. A minute or two of watching her cues, learning what got her going, then teasing her with that pressure while I drove into her over and over and over, until the painting began to thump against the wall, until I was sure the neighboring suite would call management to complain. Then, on a “Yes, Cade, fuck yes,” her entire body stuttered, and her pussy clamped down on my cock.

  The pressure and the flood of wet heat sent me tumbling after her, surprising me with the sudden intensity. I came long and hard, as though I’d stored it up for her. As though it had been years instead of days since I’d last released. As though there was no part of me that I wouldn’t give my all of, and my cock knew that score, even if my head didn’t.

  Seemed about right.

  Breathless, I pulled out of her. Stepped back until I was leaning against the counter by the bar. My pants hung at my hips, my cock sticking out, as hard and thick as before I’d entered her. I removed the condom, tying it off and throwing it in the trash nearby, and then I dared to look at Jolie.

  She’d turned around, but her pants were still around her knees, her breasts still exposed, her face and chest flushed. Her face glistening with sweat.

  She was fucking beautiful.

  I wanted her all over again.

  “Should we talk about this?” she asked, and I could tell from her inflection that she was leaving it up to me—what came next, what was said, what wasn’t.

  And I thought of all the things I’d wanted to tell her over the years, the things I needed her to know. The feelings that I was sure could only be sorted with her help.

  And I thought about the way I hadn’t been able to breathe when she’d shown up at that meeting, how it physically hurt to think what might happen to her. And I thought about the case. The secrets it held inside. The task I’d promised to help her do.

  I thought about what day it was. Thought about the flight she’d board tomorrow, how she’d get on a plane. How soon I would be getting on a plane too, but my flight path would take me to the other side of the world.

  I glanced at the bar next to me, saw there were three more condoms in the pack. “I’d rather do that again.” I nodded toward her, so she’d have no doubt what “that” meant.

  “Just once?”

  I held up the condoms. “Or more.”

  “This time in a bed?”

  I nodded. “This time without any clothes.”

  “Yeah, I can get behind that.”

  So I took her hand, led her to my bed, and pretended that the memories from a night of fucking could possibly fill the cavity she’d leave tomorrow when she flew away.

  Twenty-Six

  I squatted next to the bed and studied her sleeping features. Her face was soft, her lips curled into an almost smile. The small lines that indicated her age when she was awake were missing, and she looked more like the girl I’d fallen in love with than ever.

  Spending an entire night with her in my bed had been surreal. I usually didn’t let my conquests stay that long, and if they did, it was usually accidental—I’d been too drunk to push them out or the woman had already fallen asleep. I couldn’t remember when I’d woken up to a woman that I’d invited to stay, if ever.

  I hadn’t just invited Jolie to stay—I hadn’t let her out of my arms.

  And there was the fact that she wasn’t just any woman. She was the woman. Even with the proof of her in front of me, her naked chest rising and falling with the rhythmic breaths of sleep, it felt very much like a dream. The best dream.

  I didn’t want to wake up.

  She stirred, a sigh passed her lips, and while I very much wanted to leave her to whatever was happening in her head, there was a clock ticking.

  I swept a strand of her blonde hair off her face, noting her natural light brown coming in at the roots. “Hey, Jol.”

  Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t open them.

  I brushed my knuckles across her cheek, using the excuse of waking her gently as a chance to touch her. This did the trick.

  “Hi,” she yawned. The room was mostly dark, a lone beam of sun streaming through a crack in the blackout curtains the only indication that morning had occurred. She frowned all the same when she realized I wasn’t in the bed with her. “You’re dressed.”

  “Early riser. Bad habit.”

  She chuckled, and my cock twitched.

  I told him to calm the fuck down. He’d gotten to run the better part of the night. In the daylight, there were other priorities. Much as I’d rather ignore them, they didn’t go away. “What time is your flight?”

  Her frown returned, and she pulled the sheet up to cover her breasts, as though she just now realized that what we were to each other this morning was likely not what we were to each other last night.

  “Um. Five fifteen.” I hoped her sullen tone meant she was as unhappy about the countdown as I was.

  But we had time. Not a lot, but some. “You should leave here no later than two. We need to get the case opened before that. Sooner the better.” Whatever the contents showed, we’d have to make a plan of where we went from here.

  Where we went regarding her father, anyway.

  I wasn’t holding any hopes that there would be a conversation about the future of anything else. “Donovan should be in the office in half an hour. Do you want to go with me, or do you want to keep sleeping?”

  “I want to come.”

  I stayed crouched at her side. Glad as I was that she’d be with me, I felt guilty for the faint circles under her eyes. “You didn’t get much sleep. I’m sorry I kept you up.”

  “I’m not.” Her cheeks pinkened, bold as she was.

  I figured I’d only gotten about three hours of sleep myself, and I wasn’t sorry either. Not one bit. If she hadn’t looked so thoroughly exhausted the last time I’d made her come, I would have kept her up longer.

  “You’re not sorry either, are you?” It was more of a statement than a question, but I sensed her need to be sure.

  I answered by leaning forward and pressing my mouth to hers.

  What was meant to be a light, affirming kiss quickly turned into my hand sliding under the sheet in search of the warmth between her legs, and it was only the moan that escaped against my lips that brought me to my senses.

  I pulled my hand away and broke off abruptly. “We’ll lose the whole day if we get started.”

  Her mischievous smile said that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

  “Uh-uh.” I pushed up to my feet, hoping to eliminate temptation with distance. Also, to give my cock a little breathing room.

  She widened her grin, her gaze planted squarely on the evidence of my arousal. “Not that I’m complaining, but I’d say you’ve got the stamina of a teenager if I knew for a fact that you weren’t like this as a teen.”

  I tensed automatically, the way I always seemed to when we started talking about before. Despite what had happened between us last night, our past was still a minefield that had to be navigated carefully. It was easier to leave it alone altogether.

  But something had changed between us. Because this time I didn’t back away. “Given the chance back then, I would have fucked us both raw. I didn’t have the opportunity.”

  “No, we didn’t.” Her blush was back, which didn’t help the state of my cock. “I need a shower. Want to join me?”

  We probably had time for whatever her offer would likely turn into. Considering we were out of condoms, a shower made sense. Pulling out would be easy cleanup.

  God, I was tempted.

  But losing time wasn’t the only thing at risk. The transition to today’s relationship status would only be harder if we tried to prolong last night’s status. And I was already struggling with trying to figure out what was between us—what was new, what was old, what didn’t matter, what did. I still carried very real wounds where she was concerned, and while the sex had been an
incredible and much-needed distraction from the pain, it didn’t mean those injuries were healed.

  Maybe some of them were.

  Maybe most of them were.

  They certainly didn’t feel as present today. Figured, didn’t it? That just as I’d abandoned my need for closure, my wounds might finally be closed. Maybe that was exactly how closure worked.

  I needed to work that out, and getting filthy in the shower was only going to cloud that analysis.

  “You’re thinking about it too hard,” she said, climbing out of the bed with no concern for her nudity. “I’m going to jump in, and if you join me, you join me. If not, I’m not going to take it personally.”

  As always, she was less fucked up about us than I was. For once, I didn’t resent her for it.

  Progress.

  But I forced myself to let her shower alone all the same.

  By the time we arrived at Reach an hour later, we’d fully transitioned to our new status, whatever that was. I was able to look at her without wanting to bend her over every available piece of furniture, though maybe that was because I really wasn’t looking at her very much. It was easier this way, with distance between us.

  The hard part was not being bitter about it, but I was trying my best not to be an asshole.

  Jolie, as always, seemed to be letting me have my space, which I appreciated. Though I wouldn’t have minded if she’d stood a little closer in the elevator or reached for my hand when we walked down the hall to Donovan’s office, especially when we got to Simone’s desk. Stupid as it was, I would have preferred to face her under the guise of being off-limits, for no other reason than that I liked the idea of being off-limits because I belonged to Jolie.

  I obviously still had work to do on the whole letting go thing.

  “He hasn’t arrived yet, but he’ll be in shortly,” Simone said, completely professional. As though she hadn’t had her hands down my pants days before.