The Troublemaker

by Lili Valente

  “That’s where I learned about your books,” she says, squeezing my hand excitedly. “We’d just finished Harry Potter and my friend Theresa said I had to read The Kingdom of Charm and Bone next. I dove in and didn’t come up for air until I’d finished the entire thing, and I legit cried when I found out the next book wasn’t out yet. Those three months until book two came out were the longest of my entire life, I swear to God.”

  My brow furrows as I do the math and come up way short of twenty-one. “So, you’re…eighteen?”

  “Nineteen next week,” she says, causing Rafe to stiffen beside her and cut a sharp glance her way. “But I’ve got a fake ID, no worries.”

  “You’re eighteen?” he asks, horror and disbelief warring in his features.

  I cough into the crook of my elbow, covering my laugh as Alicia turns to him.

  “Of course I am, silly.” She pats him on the arm. “I told you that.”

  “You most certainly did not tell me that.” Rafe looks greener with every passing moment, a fact that gives me no small amount of joy. “I wouldn’t have agreed to meet up for drinks today if I’d known that. My nephews are nineteen. I’m practically old enough to be your father.”

  Alicia laughs. “Oh, come on, you are not. Don’t be silly.”

  Rafe scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m thirty-two.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Oh no! You’re totally ancient, somebody call the nursing home.” She giggles as she nudges my shoulder with hers. “Seriously, age is just a number. Right, Carrie?”

  “Totally,” I agree, fighting to keep the grin from my face as Rafe shifts his glare my way. “Unless you’re trying to enlist in the military. Or vote. Or drink beer without a fake ID.”

  Rafe’s eyes narrow dangerously as Alicia lifts a finger to her lips. “Right but keep that quiet. The bartender in here is a stickler. He took my friend Kayla’s ID a few weeks ago, but she had an actual fake one with her picture on it. I just use my sister’s old one. We look a lot alike, but she’s three inches shorter so I always wear heels, just in case.”

  I’m still trying to make sense of that line of reasoning, when Rafe steps between us, putting one hand on Alicia’s back and the other on mine, guiding us out of the line to get into the bar and down the sidewalk.

  “What’s up?” Alicia says, glancing over her shoulder. “The line’s not that long.”

  “We’re going to get coffee,” Rafe says in a firm, dad-like voice that’s oddly adorable. And sizzle-inducing, but then, just about everything he does has that effect upon me. “Or ice cream. Something without alcohol in it.”

  Alicia’s nose wrinkles. “Oh, God, Rafe, please relax. You’re being crazy.”

  “I’m not being crazy, I’m being responsible. I don’t drink with people who aren’t old enough to do it legally,” he says, making me grin.

  “I’m beginning to think this bad boy image of yours is all flash and no substance, Hunter.” I reach over to pinch his waist, which of course has not a single ounce of fat between the muscle and his skin.

  He glances my way, muttering for my ears only, “I’ll prove you wrong as soon as this date from hell is over, Haverford.”

  “Seriously,” Alicia agrees from his other side, oblivious to the wickedly sexy look he’s shooting my way. “I thought you were cool.”

  “Nope,” Rafe says. “I’m not cool.” He shifts his attention Alicia’s way. “So, I guess we’re both okay with this being our first and only date?”

  First and only date.

  The words transform my grin into a relieved smile. He hasn’t slept with this girl, he has no interest in sleeping with this girl, and as soon as we can find a place to suck down some coffee as quickly as possible, he’s going to be mine. Mine all mine.

  At least for the night.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Alicia tilts her nose into the air, clearly not pleased with his response. But that’s the way people are. We always want what we can’t have. Now that Rafe’s taken himself off the menu, I’m guessing Alicia will find him at least three times more appetizing than she did before.

  Ten minutes later, as Alicia is sidling up to Rafe to get a lick of his salted caramel ice cream, her fascination with me forgotten in her attempts to get back in Rafe’s good graces, my gut is proven correct yet again. Sometimes people are disappointingly predictable.

  But not Rafe. He simply hands the rest of his cone over, thanks Alicia for her time, and circles around the table to rest a hand lightly on the small of my back. “Ready to get out of here, sis?” he asks in a wry tone.

  “Past ready,” I reply, wiggling my fingers at Alicia. “Nice meeting you.”

  “You, too,” she says. “Can’t wait for the next book!”

  Before I can reply, Rafe has his arm around me, practically lifting me off my feet as he hustles us both toward the door. I settle for a, “Thanks so much!” tossed over my shoulder and then I’m outside, speed walking down the sidewalk next to a man who’s clearly ready to get me home.

  “In a hurry for some reason?” I tease.

  “You. Me. No clothes. No third wheel. Sound good?”

  “Sounds perfect,” I say as we both break into a jog to clear the crosswalk in time. We hop the curb to safety with seconds to spare, but we don’t slow our pace. We speed up until we’re racing each other through downtown, grinning like we’re up to no good.

  Making quick work with his key, Rafe takes the stairs up to his place two at a time, with me not far behind. And when I reach the top, he’s there to sweep me into his arms, making me even more breathless with a kiss.

  Chapter 11

  Rafe

  Heart slamming against my ribs, I sweep Carrie into my arms and make a beeline for the blanket fort like we’re both on fire and it’s the only source of water for miles. I set her down just long enough to shove the sheet covering the entrance aside and then we both dive into the shadows, a tangle of arms and legs and lips coming together with bruising force as we tear at each other’s clothes.

  My shirt, her tank top, my boots, her bra—fabric flies as I do battle with the enemies keeping me from her velvet skin.

  “Oh God, yes,” she breathes as I jerk her shorts and panties sharply down her legs and tug her beneath me, finding her nipple with my teeth as my hand slides between her legs.

  I groan against her sweet flesh as my fingers thrust into where she’s so hot, so wet, so ready for me that I know I’m not going to be able to wait long. This entire afternoon has been foreplay—her breasts against my back as we rode, her thighs tight against mine, her eyes dancing as she raced me down the street—and I’m nearing my breaking point.

  I need her. Now.

  “Let me get a condom,” I say, flicking my tongue across her other nipple. “I’ll be back in thirty seconds.”

  “I’m on the pill.” She tightens her grip on my hair. “And I’m clean. You?”

  “Yes, but I need to get a condom anyway.” I suck her tightness into my mouth, heart lurching as more wetness rushes over my fingers in response.

  Fuck, she’s so responsive. So hot and tight. I know it would feel incredible to glide inside her bare, but I can’t take any chances.

  “Because the Hunter men are baby making legends?” she asks, echoing my thoughts as she rakes her nails down my shoulders. “Don’t worry. My pills can handle the Hunter swimmers. I just need you inside me, Valentine. You, not your hand.” She arches into my mouth, cursing beneath her breath as I rake my teeth over the tip of her breast. “God, I feel like I’m going to die if you’re not inside me in the next five seconds. You make me so crazy.”

  Crazy is the word for it.

  It’s crazy to take her like this, crazy to spread her thighs wide with a rough tug of my hands and drive my swollen length into her pussy to the hilt.

  But I can’t stop myself.

  By the time I realize what I’m doing, I’m already inside her, pushing deep, a cry of relief bursting from my lips as she lifts her hips, welcoming m
e in, taking every inch until I’m completely sheathed inside her. Until I’m in heaven, nirvana, a state of consummate bliss so complete I have to suck in a breath and hold it, fighting the wave of pleasure that threatens to break me in half.

  If I come in the first thrust like a fucking teenager experiencing pussy for the first time, I will never forgive myself, no matter how insanely tight she is or how incredible it feels to have her slick heat fisting me from root to tip.

  I squeeze my eyes closed and reach down, gripping my dick tight at the base as I find her clit with my thumb.

  “Yes, oh, yes, so good.” Her spine arches, her tits lifting as I stroke her, tease her, focusing on getting her closer to the edge even as I talk myself away from the point of no return.

  When I’ve reclaimed enough self-control to call myself a grown man again, I lengthen myself over her, claiming her lips as I cup her bottom in my hands.

  “You’re the best thing I’ve felt in ages,” I breathe between kisses.

  “Mind blowing.” She hooks one leg around my hips, allowing me to glide even deeper, making my balls clench in appreciation. “Mind. Blown. All gone.”

  I groan in agreement as I rock faster, urging her closer at the end of each thrust, making sure I hit her sweet spot every time. I may not last long this first time, but I’m going to last long enough to feel her come.

  “On top, woman,” I murmur, nipping at her neck. “My hands need your tits.”

  “My tits need your hands,” she says, moving with me as I roll to the side, reversing our position.

  She lifts her arms, brushing her hair from her face, granting me the access I crave. I cup her breasts in my palms, rolling her tight nipples between my fingertips as she begins to roll her hips, riding me with her hands behind her head. She’s so beautiful, so sexy, so shamelessly sensual as she rides me, taking me closer, closer, until I’m so close to losing myself inside her I can barely breathe.

  Barely think.

  All I can do is hold on as her thrusts grow urgent and the flush pinking her cheeks spreads until it reaches her chest and my worshiping hands. I pinch her nipples tighter in response, summoning a gasp from her parted lips. My balls are insanely heavy, dragging between my legs, demanding I come inside this woman, mark her as my territory, but I will not…

  I will not…

  I will not come until she—

  “Yes! Oh God, yes!” Carrie’s head falls back, and her hands cover mine, holding my palms to her breasts as she comes, her pussy locking down around me so hot and sweet I have no choice but to follow her over the edge.

  I come with an animal sound, hands sliding down to grip her hips, pinning her to me as my cock pulses inside her, heaviness becoming weightlessness. I come so hard my vision blurs, and a muscle in my ass starts to twitch. So hard that I’m still clenching my jaw, riding out the final waves when Carrie collapses on top of me, her breath fast against my neck.

  “I love you bare,” she pants. “I love feeling you come inside me.”

  I make a sound low in my throat as I slip my hand between us, teasing her clit as I cup her ass in my free hand. “Again. You again.”

  “No way. I can’t.” But she doesn’t fight me as I begin to rock her forward and back. “It’s too soon.”

  “No, it’s not.” I rub her lightly at first, teasing the swollen flesh on either side of that powerful bundle of nerves, coaxing the subtler regions of her clit back to life.

  When I learned the clitoris is like a tree, with hidden nerve endings reaching deeper into a woman’s body, capable of layering in even more pleasure if a man knows what to do with them, I fell in love with clits all over again. The clitoris is the only organ in the human body devoted solely to giving pleasure. If that isn’t evidence that women are miraculous and innately sexual creatures worthy of worship, I don’t know what is.

  And this woman is especially spectacular.

  “I can feel you getting ready to go for me again,” I murmur as she braces her arms on either side of my face, gazing down at me with a hooded look that makes me wish I were capable of recovering as fast as she can. “Relax. Let me take you there again, baby.” I curl my middle finger, nudging my knuckle against her clit as my fingers continue to stroke her pussy on either side of where my dick is still buried inside of her.

  “Let me watch you,” I continue as she begins to rock faster, no longer needing my hand on her ass to urge her on. “Let me see how sexy you are when you come, Caroline. I want you to look right at me and lose control.”

  Her eyes widen and her lips part. Doubt flashes in her gaze, but then I see her make the choice to let me in, I hear the walls tumbling down as she comes, her gaze locked hard with mine. And I swear, in that moment, I feel her bliss wash through me, a wave of vibration that alters things inside me at a cellular level, transforming lust into something closer to addiction.

  Fuck, but I want to feel that again.

  And again.

  This explosive connection that is so completely erotic that by the time Carrie stops trembling on top of me, my dick is back to half-mast.

  And then she whispers, “I’ve never come that hard. Ever,” and I’m rock-hard and ready to go again.

  “I haven’t even gotten started, Trouble,” I promise. “I’m going to make it feel so good it hurts. I’m going to break you with orgasms.”

  “Oh yes,” she sighs, lips curving against my chest. “Yes, please. Break me.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I promise, but this time I start slow and easy, taking her from behind with long, languid strokes, waiting until she’s begging me for more before I fist my hand in her hair and fuck her like I mean it.

  I take her hard, holding nothing back, and she takes everything I have to give and more. We go until I lose count of how many times we’ve come together, until the sweet, salty smell of sex is thick under the blankets and I’m too tired to get up to get a drink of water, let alone take my usual pre-bed shower.

  I’m about to suggest we brush teeth and crash in my bed when Carrie lets out a soft, but serious, snore.

  I glance down to see her passed out on my chest, her eyes closed and her mouth parted softly in sleep, allowing more baby-bear-deep-in-hibernation sounds to escape her lips. With a tired smile, I drag a blanket over the top of us, shift a pillow under my head, and let sleep win this round, knowing the match was all ours.

  Mine and Carrie’s.

  Someone should give us a fucking medal in fucking, I think, and then I’m out, counting orgasms instead of sheep.

  Chapter 12

  Carrie

  The morning sun warms my face, and my head is resting on something soft, but my hip aches and the rest of my bones are feeling creakier than usual. I open my eyes, squinting up at the ceiling. It’s covered in flowers and way too close to my head, and for a long moment I have no idea where I am.

  Then, in a blink, my synapses fire and memories come rushing in.

  Memories of Rafe on top of me, me on top of Rafe, Rafe pinning my hands to the couch cushions as he drove into me from behind, making me come so hard I’m pretty sure I blacked out for a few minutes.

  Or a few hours…

  I don’t remember what happened between collapsing post-fifth-or-tenth-orgasm and this morning, but apparently, we never made it out of the blanket fort, a fact that has my bones cursing me for sleeping on a hardwood floor covered only by a thinly padded quilt. Even more tragically, I’m alone, without the sexy man I was planning to wake with a good-morning blowjob.

  I sit up, searching the fort for my clothes, intending to get dressed and go looking for my loaner toothbrush, Rafe, and coffee—in that order—but there’s no sign of my shorts or shirt.

  Or my panties…

  “What the…” I pop the edge of my thumb into my mouth, nibbling as I try to remember where I started getting naked last night.

  Before my sleep-deprived gray matter can pull up the necessary files, however, a deep voice sounds from the other side of the room.
>
  “I put your clothes in the washer,” Rafe says. “They should be ready to go into the dryer soon. I figured you would enjoy having something clean to wear.”

  “Are you a mind reader?” I start to wrap the sheet around myself, toga style, but stop when I hear footsteps headed my way.

  “I am.” A shadow falls across the sunny blankets and a moment later Rafe pulls the “door” to our fort aside. He’s wearing nothing but boxer briefs and a smile, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never been as excited to see a mostly naked man in my life.

  “You’re not dressed,” I say, grin stretching wider.

  “You approve?” He crawls into the fort on his hands and knees, stalking me slowly, seductively, like the easy prey I am.

  “I do. I like you better naked.” I giggle as he crawls on top of me with a growl, but cover my mouth with my hand before his lips get any closer to mine. “Wait, I need to brush my teeth.”

  “No, you don’t,” he says, nuzzling his face into my neck.

  “Yes, I do,” I insist, moaning as he tugs the sheet lower, cupping my breast in his hand. “I have firm opinions about oral hygiene,” I add, voice muffled by my fingers.

  “I have firm opinions about fucking you. Right now.” Rafe jerks the sheet from between us and settles between my legs, rocking the evidence of those convictions against my clit, swiftly eroding all my morning-breath beliefs.

  “Two minutes. I’ll be right back before you know I’m gone,” I mutter weakly, but he’s already shoving his boxer briefs down his thighs and teasing my entrance with his thickness, the head of his cock so hot I can’t bear to wait another second.

  I need that heat inside me, making me burn the way no one ever has before. So I spread my legs wider and lift my hips, silently welcoming him in.