Take Me Harder

by Jackie Ashenden

  “Fuck.” His voice sounded even rougher, even hoarser. “Last chance, honey. Do that again and I’ll—”

  Ava licked the whole length of his thumb, propelled by something she didn’t have a name for. A wild kind of excitement, a burst of adrenaline.

  Once, when she’d been little, her mother had taken her to the zoo and she’d stopped outside the tiger’s cage, where one of the big cats had been sunning itself on a rock. She’d been disappointed and hadn’t been able to understand how the creature could be so deadly when it looked like their cat at home. So she’d picked up a pebble and tried to throw it at the tiger, wanting to see what it would do, whether it would leap to its feet and she’d finally see what all the fuss was about.

  Her mother hadn’t noticed, too busy talking to someone else, so Ava had kept throwing pebbles into the enclosure. She hadn’t managed to hit the tiger, she’d been too little, but one had landed near it. The great beast hadn’t done anything, merely lifted its head and stared at her. But she still remembered the shock of that stare. The electric thrill that had gone down her spine as she’d met those big golden eyes.

  In that moment she’d realized that a tiger was nothing like a house cat.

  She felt that same need right now, the same urge to poke the beast, to see if it was really as dangerous and as deadly as everyone said. And though this tiger’s eyes were blue-green, not gold, the expression in them was exactly the same: You’re prey and I’m hungry.

  She froze completely, unable to tear her gaze from his, her whole body going taut with an odd combination of fear and excitement. Waiting to see what he’d do.

  For a long moment he did nothing, the look in his eyes bright and glittering and hot. Then, very slowly, he dragged his thumb over her lip and pushed it into her mouth.

  “Suck it,” he ordered in a tone that brooked absolutely no argument whatsoever.

  A full-on shiver shook her, the salty taste of his skin intoxicating in a way even all that bourbon hadn’t been. Oh God, how had he known that’s exactly what she’d been imagining? How had he guessed? Had it been obvious or was he some kind of mind reader?

  She felt dizzy, drunk, and this time it wasn’t the bourbon. This time it was him.

  She closed her lips around his thumb because it simply didn’t occur to her not to. Then she sucked hard, like he was her favorite kind of lollipop.

  The lines of his face went taut, a muscle leaping at the side of his jaw. He looked fierce, hungry. Nothing at all like the laughing, easygoing man she’d always thought he was.

  The tiger, not the house cat.

  She stared at him as she licked and sucked on his thumb, utterly mesmerized. Did men always taste this good? Or was it only Rush?

  Rush tilted his head, his gaze fixed to her mouth. “You ever done this before, honey?” His drawl was thick and hot as liquid honey. “You ever sucked a man’s cock?”

  The rough, blatant words should have shocked her, and yet she didn’t feel shocked. Just…hungry. Slowly she shook her head, wanting to point out that it wasn’t his cock she was sucking, but unable to because his thumb was in her mouth.

  “Oh, I know,” he went on softly. “It’s my thumb, not my cock, but we’re starting small here. You’re gonna have to build up to my dick.”

  She took a ragged breath. Did that mean that he actually wanted her to…?

  Before she could complete the thought, he eased his thumb out of her mouth, then rubbed the wet pad of it over her lower lip in a slow back-and-forth that made an insistent ache start up right down between her thighs.

  “Rush?” someone said, the voice deep and hoarse and angry-sounding.

  Instantly Rush’s thumb dropped from her mouth and he was turning around, sliding off the barstool he was sitting on, and moving to stand in front of her, as if he was blocking her from whoever had just walked into the kitchen.

  Ava blinked, her whole body quivering, her heartbeat thundering in her head. She felt like she’d walked too close to the edge of a cliff and had nearly fallen off—and was only now realizing how close to death she’d come.

  Her thoughts swung dizzyingly around in her head.

  You ever sucked a man’s cock? You’re gonna have to build up to my dick….

  Holy hell. Had he really said those things to her? She hadn’t imagined it? Or maybe she had. Maybe she’d just been way too drunk and had imagined him pushing his thumb into her mouth and telling her to suck it.

  Except she could taste him on her tongue, the saltiness of his skin cutting through the sweetness of the cookies and the milk. He had done it. And he had said those things to her and…she’d wanted to do them.

  “What the hell are you doing?” the angry voice demanded. Quinn. “Is that Ava?”

  Rush was still standing in front of her, his hands in his pockets, massive shoulders blocking her from view. “Aw, bro, don’t be like that.” All the heat and intensity had bled out of Rush’s tone. He was back to his cocky, give-no-effs self. “We were just having some milk and cookies.”

  “Milk and cookies?” Skepticism dripped from Quinn’s tone. “You? Bullshit.”

  Rush laughed. “I tell you no lies, man,” he said easily. “Honest to God, milk and fucking cookies.” But Ava didn’t miss the way his whole posture went stiff, as if the clear doubt in Quinn’s voice had hurt him in some way.

  A pulse of strange protectiveness went through her. A lot of people might think the worst of Rush, and to be fair, he looked like he was hell-bent on inviting it. But he wasn’t a bad guy. In fact, he’d once been a pretty good guy, the best even. And maybe prison had changed him, but she was sure that good guy was still there underneath.

  The bad guy had gotten her drunk and put his thumb in her mouth and said dirty things to her. But the good guy had brought her home and fed her milk and cookies.

  And if the truth be told, she wasn’t sure she knew which guy she preferred.

  Whatever the case, Quinn was being unfair.

  Pulling herself together, she tilted her head to see past Rush’s imposing figure and caught Quinn’s hard green stare with her own. “It’s true, Quinn.” She held up her half-empty glass of milk. “See?”

  Rush stayed exactly where he was. “Awww, sorry, dude. If I’d thought you wanted a cookie, I would have saved you one.” There was just the slightest edge to the words, easily missed if you weren’t listening for it. But Ava heard it. “Or are you just disappointed you didn’t catch me fucking her on the counter?”

  There was a heavy silence.

  Ava said nothing, watching both men, fascinated all of a sudden by the thick current of tension that flowed between them. There was some serious family dynamics going on here, and God help her, she was curious.

  Quinn didn’t react, his gaze shifting from Ava and back to his brother. “Why have you got her here?”

  Rush lifted a shoulder. “It’s my new seduction technique. Milk. Cookies. Cock.”

  Ava took a short, silent breath. He had to be messing with his brother now, and in pretty much the same way as he’d messed with her—by being crass and shocking and acting like he didn’t care.

  Her attention moved from Quinn’s sudden and ferocious scowl to the wide set of Rush’s shoulders and the tension there and in his neck and arms. He was holding himself in what looked like a loose, easy posture, but there was actually nothing easy or loose about it. He was as stiff as a plank of wood.

  He’s angry.

  The realization hit her almost instantly. And he wasn’t just angry. He was furious.

  “Rush,” Quinn growled. “I swear to God—”

  “It’s okay,” Ava interrupted, because if she didn’t, this was going to get ugly. She had the sense that Rush was on a hair trigger, and even though she didn’t know why—though his brother probably had something to do with it, not to mention what had just happened with her—she had to make sure this situation didn’t explode. Because she had the odd feeling that it wouldn’t be Quinn who’d get hurt. It would b
e Rush.

  She slipped off the stool, pleased that the floor was no longer moving when she stood on it. “Rush and I were having a drink at Jack’s,” she went on, ignoring Quinn’s deepening scowl at the interruption. “I forgot to eat dinner earlier, so I was a little worse for wear. He brought me over here and gave me something to eat.”

  “Not that we should have to explain ourselves to you, Dad,” Rush said, the last word heavy with sarcastic emphasis. “We were back before curfew and everything.”

  Quinn’s gaze flicked back to his brother. “If you’re going to act like a sullen teenager, I’ll fucking treat you like one. Now, are you done? Because if so, I’ll take Ava home.”

  The tension in Rush was like a telegraph wire pulled taut. Ava could almost hear it singing in the silence surrounding the two men.

  Then Rush laughed again, though this time she could hear how forced it was. “Shit, man. For a second there you actually sounded like him. Pro tip, though—if you’re really after the dad vibe, buy some cigars and start drinking yourself unconscious. Oh yeah, and start hitting things. Preferably faces.”

  Perhaps only she heard the bitterness in his voice, but she couldn’t stop herself, reaching out and touching Rush’s arm in a purely instinctive gesture, as if he was a spooked horse who needed calming or soothing.

  His head turned sharply, his gaze blazing into hers, and she saw she hadn’t been wrong: there was bitterness in his eyes too. Sure, it was hiding beneath the amusement, but it was there all the same. Somehow that made it even worse.

  But then, Rush Redmond had a lot to be bitter about.

  She pulled her fingers away, because clearly her touch wasn’t either calming or soothing, and turned to Quinn instead. “You don’t have to take me home. I can get a cab. I feel a lot better now.”

  “No,” both Quinn and Rush said at the same time.

  Rush snorted and inclined his head toward his brother, giving an elaborate after-you gesture with his hand.

  Quinn let out a breath. “No,” he repeated. “I’ll take you home.”

  “But I’m fine with a cab—”

  “It’s no trouble. Come on.”

  Damn alpha males and their bossy overprotectiveness. It reminded her of her father, and that, of course, made her think about the fact that he was probably waiting for her to return home and wouldn’t go to bed until she did. And that he’d been looking really tired that week.

  Her father would no doubt be thrilled that Quinn had delivered her home.

  Ava glanced at Rush, feeling awkward and not sure quite how to say goodbye after all of that, but the cocky, arrogant expression she was so familiar with was firmly back in place. “Catch you later, honey,” he said casually. “Nice drink. We’ll have to do it again real soon.” And just for a second, a green glint of pure wickedness gleamed in his eyes. “Especially the milk and cookies.”

  She blushed for what had to be the millionth time that night but didn’t look away, because her mouth was still tingling and she could still taste him on her tongue. “Yes,” she replied, holding his gaze. “I enjoyed that part the most.”

  And she saw, with some satisfaction, that surprise flared in his gaze.

  Back at ya, Rush Redmond.

  “I’ll text you,” she went on, as if he hadn’t pushed his thumb in her mouth and she hadn’t sucked the hell out of it. “About the…uh…” With a glance at Quinn she stopped, not wanting to mention her mother or what he’d promised to do for her.

  The expression on Rush’s face didn’t change, his voice uninflected. “Sure. I’ll get my people to call your people and we’ll do lunch.”

  She walked past him, determined not to look in his direction again, following Quinn out the door. But her fingers were tingling now too, from where they’d brushed against the hot skin of his arm, and she had to close them hard around the strap of her purse to try to get rid of the feeling.

  Back out in the street, Quinn pulled on the door of his truck and held it open for her. “Ava,” he said, “I have to ask. Why the hell are you going out drinking with Rush?”

  She hadn’t had much to do with Quinn over the years, mostly because he’d been so much older and had always ignored her as a kid. Then he’d been away in the navy, only returning after old Joe had gotten so sick and died. So she didn’t know him that well. Certainly not well enough to have this kind of conversation.

  The bourbon was still sloshing around inside her, and though the ground had stopped moving unexpectedly and she felt a little more settled after the milk and cookies, it made her not quite as polite as she would have been if she’d been entirely sober.

  She paused before she got in. “Why the hell were you giving him such a hard time?”

  Quinn blinked, as if he hadn’t been expecting her to come back at him. Then he frowned—the guy always seemed to be either frowning or scowling. “Because he’s an asshole.”

  “I think if you’d been in prison for eight years, you’d probably be an asshole too.”

  “Prison’s not an excuse to be a tool.” Quinn’s frown had turned ferocious. “Get in the truck.”

  The urge to argue with him was strong, but she bit her lip and did as she was told, knowing she’d probably said too much already. Really, after all that bourbon, she just didn’t trust what might come out of her mouth.

  There was a heavy silence as Quinn got in and started the truck, pulling away from the curb.

  “I’m just looking out for you,” he said after a moment. “You don’t want to get tangled up with a guy like him.”

  “You’re assuming one drink is ‘tangling.’ It’s not. It’s one drink, Quinn.”

  “Technically you had more than one drink. But even so, you’re female, which means one drink is never just one drink when it comes to Rush.”

  She didn’t like that implication. It lumped her in with all the rest of the women who got themselves “tangled” with Rush. But she wasn’t like all the rest and she didn’t want to be. “It’s not what you think,” she said, knowing she sounded defensive and yet not being able to phrase it any other way, not when the whole reason she’d been in that bar with him wasn’t anything she could tell Quinn. “I know that sounds trite, but it’s really not.”

  Quinn’s attention remained on the road. “Like I said, you’re female. Which means with Rush, it’s always what you think.”

  The words sat uncomfortably inside her. She’d heard from her father what Rush had been up to since he’d gotten out of prison, and she knew his favorite place was a bar and his second-favorite place was a strip joint. It wasn’t as if she was unaware of his proclivities. And really, she didn’t care what they were anyway. But when she’d been put together in someone else’s head with all of Rush’s strippers, she found she did care. Though she wasn’t really sure why.

  “We were talking,” she insisted, starting to feel irritated. “Also, I’m a grown woman who knows her own mind and I don’t see Rush that way.” Liar. “And he doesn’t see me that way either.” Liar again.

  “Rush sees every woman that way. Which is why you don’t want to be spending time with him.”

  Suck it. You’re gonna have to build up to my dick.

  Ava pushed the memory of Rush’s hot, dark voice firmly from her head. “My virtue or otherwise is none of your concern, Quinn,” she said primly. “I’m a damn cop, for God’s sake. I can take care of myself and I can certainly handle Rush.”

  Quinn snorted. “No, you can’t.”

  He’s right. You can’t.

  Ava ignored the thought. “If I can handle drug dealers and pimps and murderers, then I can certainly handle an ex-felon who isn’t really even a felon. I mean, my God, I don’t know why you keep assuming the worst of him. He was innocent.”

  Quinn’s jaw tightened. “He may have been back then. He’s certainly not innocent now.”

  There was something in his voice that made Ava frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  But Quinn only shook his head
and said nothing.

  Damn. When she didn’t want him to talk, he kept talking, and when she wanted to know more, he shut up. Not that she wanted to know. Nope, knowing more about Rush wouldn’t end up anywhere good, that was for sure.

  But despite herself, her brain kept turning over what he’d said anyway, encouraging a fascination she didn’t want to feel.

  The silence remained all the way to her place. But when she got out of the truck, Quinn said quietly, “I know you think I’m being a hard-ass on him, and you’re right, I am. But I’m also looking out for him too. He’s messed up, Ava. And you don’t want to go anywhere near that, at least not until he figures himself out.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” she replied stiffly, not knowing quite how to process that, since she hadn’t expected Quinn to be protective of his brother—though in retrospect, she probably shouldn’t have been surprised by it. “I won’t. Thanks for the ride.”

  When she got inside, her father was in his usual armchair and he gave her a brisk nod as she came in, setting her purse down by the couch. “Hey, Dad. Not too late, am I?”

  Her father pushed himself out of the armchair. “Nope. How was your drink?”

  “It was fine. I got Quinn to drop me home, since I had a couple of beers.” No need for her dad to know she’d been into the hard stuff.

  “Good man, that Quinn.” Her father headed toward the doorway, probably on his way to bed. But then he paused, giving her a glance. “How was Rush?”

  Briefly she wondered whether she should mention the fact that she knew all about her father’s little conversation with Rush, ask why he hadn’t talked to her rather than Rush if he was worried about her.

  Then again, maybe not. She didn’t want or need another confrontation tonight.

  “He was good,” she said, keeping it vague. “Why do you ask?”

  But he ignored the question. “What did he talk about?”

  “Nothing much. Why do you want to know?”

  But her dad only raised a shoulder and turned away. “No reason. Good night.”