Take Me Harder

by Jackie Ashenden

  “Y-you’re not this guy either,” she said raggedly, holding his gaze. “I told you what you meant to me in your truck, remember? You’re the guy who s-smiled at me when no one else would. Who talked to me when everyone else ignored me. You’re the guy who gave me milk and cookies.”

  Something flickered in his eyes, but he said nothing, dipping his head and touching his tongue to one hard nipple, making her gasp.

  “W-what I’m trying to say,” she said, forcing herself to go on, “is that whatever guy you are, I’m here for you. And I d-don’t care which guy that is, because in the end it doesn’t matter.” She screwed her eyes shut tight, fighting the intense burn of sensation as the heat of his mouth covered her nipple, as he sucked on it while his thumb pressed down gently but firmly, pushing inside her. “It d-doesn’t matter because you were there for me. And so now I’m here for you. And n-nothing you can do is going to push me away.”

  “Then I’m obviously not trying hard enough.” The words were a soft growl against her breast and then there was heat again, the pressure of suction on her nipple, the slow, deep slide of his thumb inside her.

  And through the intense pleasure of it all, his words suddenly sank in. He was trying to push her away, using sex to put some distance between them. Using sex in the same way he used strippers and booze, to distance everything and everyone. The same way he used stupid comments and outrageous statements. The same way he was being cold and detached now.

  But people only wanted distance when they were under threat. When they were hurting. When they wanted to protect themselves.

  A deep, intense feeling turned over inside her, a feeling that had nothing to do with the pleasure coursing through her veins and everything to do with the man touching her. She opened her eyes, gazing at his golden brown head bent over her breast, at the wide stretch of his magnificent shoulders and the movement of his arm as he eased his thumb out of her, replacing it with two fingers.

  He was hurting deeply, and he didn’t understand that she was the one person he didn’t have to protect himself from.

  Maybe it’s time he does?

  Ava lifted a hand from the bed and pushed her fingers through the thick silk of his hair, curling them around the back of his head. He went utterly still at the touch. One aching, tense moment passed. Then slowly he lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers.

  “Trust me, Rush,” she murmured. “And before you say it, I know you think you can’t trust anyone.” She curled her fingers tighter in his hair. “But you can trust me.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw, the look in his eyes becoming focused and sharp. “Trust you? Trust you with what?”

  “With everything. With nothing. With anything you want.” She swallowed, the intense feeling flowing outward, a kind of deep protectiveness that had her wanting to wrap herself around him, put herself between him and whatever was hurting him. “You don’t have to tell me what’s hurting you, not if you don’t want to. In fact, you don’t have to tell me anything at all. I just wanted you to know that I’m here and you can take whatever you need from me.”

  He said nothing for a long time, just staring at her, but she could feel the tension in his muscles, tension in every part of him. Resisting her.

  Then he moved quite suddenly, pushing himself back and away from her. He turned and sat on the edge of the bed, his attention seemingly on the floor in front of him, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress as if it would stop him from sliding off.

  “Don’t say that shit,” he said after what felt like forever, his voice sounding weirdly thick. “And you shouldn’t be giving me a fucking thing.”

  Ava sat up, her throat tight, her body still pulsing with unfulfilled arousal. “Why not? What’s wrong with giving you things?”

  His shoulders hunched, his head dropping down. “Christ, you’ve got no idea.”

  “Then tell me.” She shifted on the bed, moving behind him, sliding her hands over those heavily muscled shoulders and around, so her palms were on his pecs. Then she rested her cheek against the top of his spine, relaxing against him, hoping her touch and the warmth of her body would help relax him too. “Or don’t. You don’t have to.”

  He said nothing, and for long moments she thought he wouldn’t speak, his muscles rigid under her cheek and hands. Then, bit by bit, the tension began to bleed out of him.

  “You don’t want to hear that shit.” His voice was a hoarse rumble in her ear.

  She closed her eyes, stroking her fingers over his skin. He was as warm and smooth and firm as she’d imagined, and she didn’t want to stop touching him. The scent of him, that fresh laundry smell and the hint of masculine spice that was all Rush, was amazing, and she thought she could sit here leaning against his solid warmth all night. He didn’t even have to say anything just as long as she could touch him. How weird. She’d never thought that being close to someone like this could be so comforting or reassuring.

  “Try me,” she murmured, feeling more tension go out of him underneath her stroking fingers. “There’s a lot of stuff I hear down at the precinct. Yours can’t be any worse.”

  His muscles flexed and then relaxed, shifting under her cheek as he lifted his arm and shoved his fingers through his hair. He gave a short, bitter-sounding laugh. “It’s not even interesting shit.”

  “I can handle boring shit too.” She stroked her thumbs over his pecs, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart. God, he felt so good. She couldn’t help herself, turning her face against his back and brushing her mouth over the skin at the top of his spine, a hot thrill going through her when he shuddered.

  “Jesus,” he muttered thickly. “I can’t think, let alone speak, with you touching me like that.”

  She couldn’t either. She was supposed to be talking to him, wasn’t she? Encouraging him to trust her, not getting high on his scent and the feel of him under her fingers.

  Swallowing, she tried to pull away, only to have his hands cover hers where they rested on his chest, keeping her right where she was.

  “I didn’t say stop.” There was something in his voice, something that had been missing before. Heat.

  “Rush—”

  But he was turning around in the circle of her arms, so suddenly that she found herself facing him, staring into eyes that weren’t detached or cold any longer. Green and blue, they burned so bright she could hardly look at them.

  “No,” he said softly. “I don’t want to talk. Not yet.”

  She caught her breath. “What do you want, then?”

  “You know, honey.” The light in his eyes burned brighter. “I want you to give me everything.”

  Chapter 16

  Ava’s eyes were like gold coins, wide and glowing, fringed by the most gorgeous red-gold lashes he’d ever seen. He’d never been this close to her with the light fully on her face, able to see her every expression.

  It was, quite frankly, terrifying.

  He’d never asked for anything from anyone, never asked for what he needed, not like this. Not with another person staring at him, the possibility of that other person saying no right there in front of him.

  But he didn’t have a fucking choice.

  Somehow she’d gotten past that detachment he’d tried to keep between them. Undermined it completely with a few simple words, warm arms around his neck, and her cheek against his back.

  And after he’d been such a fucking prick, trying to distance her, make her into just another woman he was trying to escape into.

  But he should have known Ava wasn’t just another woman. She never had been.

  She wouldn’t let herself be just another woman. She was herself, and he’d been such a fucking asshole to think she was anything different.

  He’d known it the moment she looked up at him as he was toying with her, playing with her like she was nothing but a body he was trying to lose himself in. And it hadn’t been distress or hurt he’d seen in her eyes but worry. As if she was concerned for him, as if she cared about
him. And then she’d just flat-out told him that there was nothing he could do to drive her away.

  He didn’t understand it. Why would she say that? Why would she put up with him when he was being the biggest fucking prick in the history of creation? But maybe that didn’t matter, because looking into her bright copper eyes, he found he’d lost his appetite for distance, for detachment. He’d certainly lost his appetite for using her.

  So he’d turned away, sitting on the edge of the bed because he didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t want to go, and yet staying here while he was in this mood would only risk her being hurt, and she didn’t deserve that, not from him.

  Then she’d snuggled up to him, put her arms around him, and told him he could tell her anything. Or nothing. It was up to him; she didn’t mind.

  Maybe it was simply her touch. Or maybe it was just the words. But something slipped inside him right then. Something that hooked into the huge, strange emotion caught in his chest and pulled it hard. Pulled it right fucking out of him.

  He couldn’t deal, just…couldn’t. The ache that didn’t have a name, the sheer need that felt like desire and yet was deeper and far more complicated than that. It was something he’d never felt before and it scared the shit out of him, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her.

  It felt like he was on fire and only she could put it out.

  She said his name, but he barely heard it. Instead he took her face between his hands and covered her mouth. Her lips parted instantly beneath his and he took full advantage, sliding his tongue inside, finding and tasting the sweetness of her, chasing it.

  She shivered, her arms tightening around him, the warmth of her skin and the scent of musk and lavender filling his senses, making him feel even more desperate than he did already.

  He pushed her back onto the bed, sliding over her, pressing her down into the mattress as he kissed her deeper, more hungrily. She moved her hands, her fingers trailing along his skin, and suddenly it felt like more than he could handle. Grabbing her wrists, he held them down on the pillow on either side of her head, keeping them there as he drowned himself in the silken heat of her mouth, in that fucking sweet taste.

  She said he’d given her a lot, but that was a lie. Maybe once he had, when things were better, when he thought he could be a better person, back when he’d still believed he could make his father love him. But that was a lifetime ago. He hadn’t given anyone a damn thing since, and that included her, because what was the point when no one gave you anything back?

  But that didn’t seem to bother Ava. She gave and gave—to her career, to her father, to him—and never demanded anything in return. In fact, the only thing she’d ever asked for was that he call her honey. So little. And she deserved so much more.

  He had nothing to give her, nothing that would make a fucking difference given everything she’d lost. Her mom was dead and her father was a distant prick. And the man who’d ruined their lives was still free. But he could give her pleasure. At least that he was good at.

  Her body was silky and soft beneath him, the damp heat of her pussy against his cock almost agonizing, and he just wanted to sink inside her, lose himself. But not now. Not yet. He had a few things to show her first.

  He tore his mouth from hers and kissed down the length of her throat, relishing the hiss of her caught breath as he nipped at the delicate cords of her neck and then pressed his lips to the soft hollow at the base. He licked her there, tasting the salty sweetness of her skin, feeling her shudder beneath him. Then he pushed her further, licking his way down to one breast and the stiff little button of her nipple.

  She made a desperate sound as he licked that too, arching beneath him, her hands straining against his imprisoning wrists. But he didn’t let her go, circling his tongue around and around her nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

  “Oh…Rush.” She arched again, her hips rising beneath his in blatant demand.

  “What?” He nuzzled at her damp skin. “You like that, honey?”

  “Y-yes. Oh my God.” Her voice was all husky and thick. “Feels so good…”

  So he did it again, because he’d always liked taking care of her, and to do this to her, to make her pant and whisper his name in pleasure, felt unbelievably good to him too, like he was doing something important. Like he was doing something that mattered.

  She moaned and twisted under him, and when he turned his attention to her other breast, biting softly on her tight nipple, she gasped. “Please…oh, please…”

  He trailed his mouth down her body, licking the taut hollow of her belly button, watching the goosebumps rise on her skin. It suddenly seemed vital that she know it was him doing this to her, that it was him making her feel these things. “Say my name again, honey,” he murmured, not really knowing why he needed to hear it. “Say it.”

  “Rush.” There was no hesitation at all. “Please, Rush…”

  Satisfaction and a deep, complex kind of pleasure unwound inside him. And, weirdly, the need to get himself off eased. Oh, it was still there, still strong, and yet it wasn’t as demanding. As if he could do this to her all day and not have her do anything to him. As if her pleasure was all he needed.

  He let go of her wrists and nuzzled further down, to the cluster of red curls between her thighs. She tensed all of a sudden, but he ignored that, easing her legs wide with the gentle pressure of his palms. Bending even further, he ran his tongue up the pale, silken skin of one inner thigh, then the other.

  Ava went still, her hips trembling, her breathing fast and ragged in the silence of the room.

  But he didn’t stop. Instead he slid his hands beneath her, cupping the soft curve of her ass, lifting her so that the wet heat of her pussy was right there in front of him. His mouth watered. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to taste her.

  Squeezing her butt just enough to give her a thrill, he leaned in, inhaling the musky scent of feminine arousal. Then he exhaled long and slow over all that wet, pink flesh, making her thighs quiver and her hips shift in his hands.

  “Rush…oh…God, please…”

  There was desperation in her voice, and he grinned like the asshole he was, because it only made him want to tease her more, drive her higher, wring out of her every last bit of pleasure. Set the bar so high that all the men who came after him would never, ever come close.

  What men? There will be no more fucking men after you.

  He didn’t pause to question the thought, didn’t take any time to think about it. There was only complete and utter agreement with everything in him. He leaned forward, licking a line straight up the center of her pussy, holding her tightly, possessively. Making her his.

  She gave the sexiest whimper he’d ever heard, so he did it again, licking her like an ice cream, the taste of her salty and spicy, that had the hunger roaring in his head, making him want to take everything right now. But he held back, taking his time, delicately exploring every little fold and nipping at her slick flesh. He teased her, running his tongue around the entrance to her body, then lightly dipping inside.

  She writhed, her head going back on the pillow, her hands curled into fists at her sides, her body shaking with each touch.

  So fucking beautiful. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

  Lifting his head, he eased his hands away from her ass, lowering her back down onto the mattress. “Look at me,” he ordered.

  She drew in a shuddering breath, looking down the length of her flushed, pink body at him. Her eyes had gone a smoky, tarnished gold with desire, and he’d never seen a sexier, more erotic sight than she was, naked with her legs spread, slick pink flesh gleaming, and her red hair spread all over the white pillow, looking at him the way she was looking at him now. With desperation, with need.

  No one had looked at him that way before. No one ever.

  “Tell me you want me,” he heard himself say, though he hadn’t meant to sound so fucking desperate. “Tell me, Ava.”

  “I…want you.” Her
voice had a husky, throaty edge, the same note of desperation that had been in his, now in hers. “God, I want you.”

  He slid his hands slowly up her body, stretching his fingers out to touch as much of her skin as he could, cupping those round, high breasts and lightly pinching her nipples. “Tell me you need me.”

  She gasped, arching into his hands, her hips twisting and trembling. “I n-need you. Oh God…Rush…Please. I need you so much.”

  “Keep looking at me, honey. Keep your eyes right on me.” And he held her gaze as he lowered his head again, feeling her tense as he brushed his mouth over the hot wet heat of her pussy. Watching her eyes widen as he flicked his tongue over the swollen tip of her clit and a ragged, choked sound tore from her.

  Keeping one hand on her breast, he dragged his thumb back and forth over her nipple as he slid the other down over her trembling stomach to the damp curls between her thighs. Then he pinched her clit with his fingers, pushing his tongue deep inside her.

  Her convulsive jerk almost lifted him off the bed, a wild cry breaking from her. “Rush!”

  But he didn’t stop. If he was honest with himself, he couldn’t stop, because she tasted like fucking heaven, and her cries and the wild jerks of her body were like balm to his twisted, black soul.

  He kept it lazy, fucking her with his tongue all slow and leisurely as he pinched her clit and toyed with her breast, watching her face flush deep red and her eyes glow bright gold. She panted and writhed, begging him incoherently for relief, but he had a fucking mission and he was on it. He brought her to the brink and kept her there for as long as he could, watching her face as the orgasm finally hit her and she screamed, her body trembling and shaking under his hands.