“Well, I like more. I can definitely handle more.” One hand rested on the top of her thigh while with the other, he pulled aside the crotch of her white panties, looking down at her bared sex. “Fucking hell,” he murmured. “Look at all those pretty curls, little red.”
She couldn’t sit still, she just couldn’t. He’d done this before in her kitchen, touching her, his hard thigh between hers, teasing her. And then he’d pulled back, left her empty and aching, and if he did it again…
“Rush,” she said thickly, trying to pull herself together enough to form a coherent sentence.
“Yeah?” He was looking between her thighs, and when he moved his thumb this time there was nothing separating her wet flesh from his touch.
She jerked as he drew his thumb along the slick seam of her pussy, dragging it slightly to create the most tantalizing friction. Oh God, please let him keep doing this. Please don’t let him stop. “If you stop like you did in the kitchen, I swear, I’ll punch you in the face again.”
An expression she didn’t understand flickered over his face. Then slowly he sat forward, so their faces were inches apart, his eyes staring straight into hers. “Don’t worry, honey,” he said quietly. “Not this time.” And he shifted his hold on her again, gathering the hands that rested against his chest in his and guiding them behind her back, holding them there with one strong hand. Then he slid the other between her thighs, beneath her panties, stroking the folds of her sex gently, up and down, so that she shivered and shook, his gaze pinning her as surely as his grip on her did.
“What are you doing?” she gasped. “I thought you were going to…you know.”
“Fuck you? Oh yeah, that’s going to happen. But I need you nice and wet.” A grin that was the very essence of wickedness turned his beautiful mouth. “Remember I told you that you had to build up to my dick?”
His gentle stroking motion was making her toes curl inside her stupid sandals, making her thighs quake and her nipples get tight and hard. She was suddenly achingly conscious of all the clothing she was wearing and how much of it was between them. How she wanted it to be gone, so she could feel all his hard muscled heat against her bare skin. “I t-thought that was just a f-figure of speech.”
He laughed, low and rough in his throat. “Oh no. My dick is never just a figure of speech.” His hips flexed, and she could feel the hard ridge beneath his zipper, pressing against her soft, swollen flesh. “There’s a reason you need to be good and wet, and it’s not because I’ve got Pee-wee Herman in my jeans.”
The sheer arrogance of him made her laugh, husky and choked. “I thought guys talked about their penises like fishermen talk about the one that got away.”
“Honey, guys do not talk about penises.” One finger moved in another downstroke and paused outside the slick entrance to her body, circling, making her shake again. “We talk about dicks and if anything, I undersell mine.” His finger pushed gently, and she tensed as it slid inside her a little, the look in his eyes glittering. “I wouldn’t want to make my bros feel inadequate.”
She gave another gasping laugh, trying to relax as his finger slid deeper. At the same time, his thumb covered her clit, pressing down, and the combination of the pressure and the feeling of penetration made heat break out all over her body.
“That feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, watching her. “That makes you want to move on me, right?”
She couldn’t speak, just didn’t have the words anymore. She could only nod.
“I don’t want you to.” That soft drawl of his wound around her, was a sensual caress all on its own. “I want you to keep still.”
“W-why?”
That wicked grin again, the scar on his mouth, pulling at the corner, somehow making it even more wicked. “Because I told you to.”
Candy had told her that he liked to have control. That he preferred directing the action and that he definitely liked to watch what he was doing. Certainly their encounter in the kitchen had proved that, and it looked like it was being confirmed again.
He wanted this on his terms.
Which wouldn’t have been a problem if she’d been a woman who was happy to be led, to be directed. But she wasn’t. She didn’t want to give up control. Back in the kitchen the day before, even though she’d been on her knees, she’d been the one to instigate it. Somehow she’d ended up with the power, even though he’d had his hands in her hair and his dick in her mouth.
But not here. Not now.
He was holding her hands behind her back, playing with her like she was a toy, and even though a part of her liked that more than she wanted to admit to, another part of her was afraid. That hunger for him and the sense that he would take more of her than she wanted to give were combining inside her into a feeling she didn’t know what to do with.
Take control of a situation, her father had always said, and yet she didn’t know how to take control of this one. Not in the slightest. Not with his finger sliding deeper inside her, his thumb circling gently, intensifying the pleasure almost painfully.
“R-Rush…” She pulled against his imprisoning fingers, her breath coming faster and more ragged. “Please…I don’t…”
“Hush, honey.” He held her firmly, his hand like a manacle around her wrists, not letting her pull away, and leaned closer, his mouth barely inches from hers. He was so close now that even in the darkness she could see the vivid color of his eyes and the stark white scar that bisected one eyebrow. The gold that ran through his dark brown hair and tipped his lashes, that gleamed in the stubble that lined his strong jaw. “Do you trust me?”
The question astonished her for some reason and she went utterly still, staring into his mesmerizing gaze. Trust hadn’t been something she’d ever thought about, and certainly not in the context of him. This man, with his bourbon and his strippers and outrageous, cocky mouth, who didn’t give a crap about anything or anyone, who’d been so needlessly cruel yesterday before she’d hit him in the face.
Trust him?
Is that even a question? Of course you trust him. You always have.
And maybe that was the most astonishing part. Not that he’d asked the question, but that her automatic and instinctive response was Yes. Fuck yes.
Back then he’d been there for her when her father’s grief had shut her out and left her with no one. And now he’d told her a secret that clearly was tearing him apart inside, a gesture of trust she couldn’t help but want to return.
He was looking at her, and there was something in his gaze, something underneath all that strength and arrogance, that looked almost as if…he was afraid of her answer.
“Yes,” she whispered, caught not only by that look in his eyes but also by the feeling that was tightening inside her chest. “Yes, of course I trust you.”
His gaze flared, a bright green spark of what could only be triumph, and it made her chest tighten even more. Why was he so pleased? Did he not have anyone else who trusted him? Not his brothers? Not even one person?
Of course he doesn’t. You know that.
His hand between her thighs moved again, spreading her flesh, sliding another finger inside her. She gasped at the feeling, at the stretch of delicate tissues, at the exquisite burn, and shuddered.
The look in his eyes became hotter, as if her unguarded response was as erotic to him as his touch was to her. “Yeah, honey,” he murmured. “That’s right. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Trust me. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”
She watched his face as his fingers slid deeper inside her, as his thumb pressed harder on her clit, as the pleasure gripped her with sharp claws.
He didn’t have anyone. Not a single soul. Otherwise he would have told his brothers his secret, surely. Why couldn’t he trust them? Why couldn’t he trust anyone? Was that the effect of prison? Or was it just that he’d felt betrayed by one too many people?
Her heart ached and she couldn’t bear the intimacy of his gaze all of a sudden. Somehow it hurt to know
this about him, and she wished she didn’t. Wished she was back where she’d started, when he’d been just another sleazy guy watching strippers in Sugar Daddy’s.
He’s never been that to you.
His fingers slid out, then back in again, the glide of his thumb a delicious counterpoint, making her hips move and tearing little gasps from her throat.
Whatever he’d been to her, it was all too late now. Somehow she’d crossed a line she hadn’t even realized was there and she couldn’t go back, no matter how much she wanted to. He meant something to her, something powerful.
“Rush…” This was different from the secret pleasures she gave herself sometimes at night, when she was too tired and couldn’t sleep. When she ached for something more than what she had. When she wanted to be touched and held, though by whom she had no idea. This was something she couldn’t control. This was something she couldn’t manage and couldn’t stop if it was too much for her. And she didn’t know why she said his name, but she did, not even knowing what she was asking for. “Rush…I don’t…please…”
But his touch was firm and he didn’t let go, and he didn’t stop. His hand hard around her wrists, the steering wheel pressing against her back, his fingers sliding in and out of her trembling flesh, his thumb circling and gliding and teasing. Leaving her with no choice but to take whatever he gave her.
It was intense. It was too much. It was unbearable.
The orgasm hit her unexpectedly, a bright, hard explosion of pleasure that overwhelmed every nerve ending she had. Her spine arched, her muscles drawing tense as a desperate cry escaped from her, only to have it swallowed by the heat of his mouth closing over hers.
She shook like a tree in a storm, as if the pleasure was going to shake her apart at the seams, but he kept his mouth right where it was, kissing her, exploring her as his fingers stroked and teased, annihilating her all over again.
It seemed to take forever for her to recover and when she eventually opened her eyes, she found herself leaning forward with her forehead on his chest, her hands free. She could hear his heart thundering near her ear, the heat of his body burning right through her clothes, the hard press of his cock against her sensitive sex making her jerk as aftershocks moved through her like lightning.
The cab was full of the sounds of her own breathing, harsh and fast. And soon the rustling of clothes as his hands moved beneath her, his body twisting as he reached for something in his back pocket. She knew she should shift and give him some room, but she couldn’t seem to move. All she could hear was her heartbeat thundering in her head and her breathing, which was as loud as if she’d just run the New York City Marathon in record time.
Dimly she heard him say something curt and bitten off, and then his hands were on her again, moving her back. She blinked hard, her vision a little fuzzy. He was doing something with his hands, his attention on his lap.
She blinked again, everything inside her curling tight as she watched him roll a condom down over the length of his very impressive cock. “I could do that,” she said before she could stop herself, her voice cracked and rusty-sounding.
He flicked her a glance, the heat in it stealing all the air out of her lungs. “No, you fucking couldn’t. Remember I said this thing’s got a hair trigger where you’re concerned?”
“What?” she said stupidly.
He smoothed his hand down his cock and flexed his hips in a blatantly sexual move. “Honey, it’s very simple. If you don’t get on my dick right now, I’m going to disappoint us both.”
She blinked at the arrogance, and for a second she just couldn’t seem to work out how she was going to do it. Because, God, she’d had him in her mouth and she knew exactly how big he was. How exactly was she going to “get on”?
But he must have lost patience, because right then he muttered a curse, and his hands were on her hips, lifting her up. “Get your panties out of the way,” he growled.
Awkwardly she pulled them to one side as he eased her over him, lowering her slowly.
She stiffened, feeling the stretch and burn of her flesh as she began to slide down on him. Her breath caught in her throat, the sensation unfamiliar and not entirely pleasant.
“Easy,” he murmured, his hands gliding up her back, easing her closer to him, his mouth against her ear. “Relax. It’ll be okay.”
Ava panted as he moved deeper, her whole body shivering. She kept expecting it to hurt like she’d heard, but it didn’t. It was just…strange. “Is it supposed to feel like this?” she asked croakily. “Isn’t it supposed to hurt?”
“It’s supposed to, but you’re the first virgin I’ve ever had, so I don’t know.” His mouth brushed against her neck, his breath warm. “One thing I do know is that every woman is different.” His hands firmed on her hips as he pushed her down, settling her onto him, making her gasp as the feeling of penetration intensified, a fullness that had her squirming and shifting on his lap. “Holy fuck, honey. Remember what I said about a hair trigger? Jesus, I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
“I know but…” She couldn’t keep still, the sensation of him inside her making her want to move. Lifting her hands, she slid them underneath his T-shirt, the urge to touch him uncontrollable. His skin was so hot and smooth, the crisp prickle of hair against her fingers, the hard ridges of his abdomen shifting and flexing under her touch. “Rush…God…You feel amazing.”
“Keep still.” The words were a growl as he nuzzled at her neck, his teeth nipping. “Keep the fuck still.”
She tried, she really did. But it was almost impossible. She rocked against him, trying to get him to move with her because she couldn’t quite figure out how it worked, but he remained frustratingly still.
Turning her head, she tried to find his mouth, wanting to kiss him, but he frustrated her there too. “Please…,” she whispered. “Rush…show me. I…don’t know how to do this.”
His breathing was harsh in her ear and he didn’t speak for a long moment, the heave of his chest under her hands the only sign of what this was doing to him.
“This is my show now, honey.” His voice was ragged, as if he’d been running the same marathon she had, all his usual levity stripped from it. “All you need to do is sit there. Understand?”
She gave a frantic nod.
Then his hands tightened on her and he lifted her before slamming her back down.
And the world exploded.
Chapter 13
Ava gasped, a frantic little sound that almost had him coming right then and there. Which was just not happening. He wasn’t fucking fifteen again, coming at the mere sight of a woman’s bare breasts. He was going to last, dammit, no matter how hard his heart was beating. No matter how hot and tight and wet Ava’s pussy was.
And it was all those things. So hot and so tight and so wet he didn’t know how he hadn’t lost both his head and his control the minute he’d gotten inside of her.
Her hands were on his stomach, sliding all over his skin, making him shiver and burn, and the scent of her, musk and lavender, made him feel drunk and wild.
He’d never had this response to a woman before. Never felt this on edge in his whole damn life. There was something wrong with him, Christ, there had to be.
Ava’s nails scored his skin, her whole body quivering.
Of course I trust you.
He should never have asked her if she did, but the question was out before he’d had a chance to think better of it. She’d been afraid and he’d wanted to make sure she wasn’t, wanted it to be okay for her. And it hadn’t been until he’d said it that he realized what a dumb fucking question it was. Because it made him aware of how much he wanted it to be true. Despite what a prick he was, what a prick he’d been to her, he wanted her to trust him.
And she does. Big fucking mistake.
Rush held tight to her, the soft give of her hips beneath his fingers as he lifted her again and pushed her hard back down, thrusting up at the same time.
Ah, fuck, that was so
good. So fucking good.
Her pussy constricted around him like a slick, hot glove, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her face. She was staring at him, her eyes wide and dark in the night and only inches from his. Her breath was coming in hard, fast pants, and he could see perspiration on her upper lip and her forehead. She looked dazed and a little drunk.
You did this to her. She’s drunk on you.
He’d made women scream—hell, it wasn’t a fuck until the woman had screamed his name at least once. But he’d never really felt the satisfaction of it until now, like a hit of the very best cocaine money could buy, a deep thrill that went straight to his cock.
His little milk-and-cookies virgin, all hot and sweating and panting on his dick.
She trusted him, she fucking trusted him, and it was so wrong, especially when he was doing this to her, when he was taking her into the mouth of hell itself for a showdown he probably wouldn’t survive.
But he’d asked her to and so she did, and now he had to prove to her that she’d done the right thing. And it didn’t matter that it was just in the context of sex; somehow the question had become deeper, had come to mean more.
He’d never asked someone to trust him before. He’d never had anyone say yes.
He turned his head into her neck again, inhaled that musky scent, licked the hollow of her throat, tasting salt and sweetness. Then he bit her, unable to help himself, thrusting up into her again as he lifted and slid her down.
She groaned, her hips moving and shifting, tilting to chase the friction.
It was too much. She was too hot and wet and tight, and he was on a fucking knife edge. Sliding his arm around her waist, he pulled her in hard against him, pinning her hands to his chest. Then he slid his hand between her thighs again, finding the tight little bud of her clit and tracing it, slicking his finger over and over as he began to thrust harder. She moaned, her head falling back, exposing her throat, and he kissed her, licked her, nipped at her until all her muscles suddenly drew tense.
Take Me Harder Page 20