Make Me, Take Me

by Amanda Usen

  After a punishing day in the café, he’d collected her in the alley and made good on his promise of a bath and a massage, but not even his enormous bathtub could soak the pain from her throbbing head and aching bones. Nothing could, not until she acknowledged the source.

  She stared at Kate, feeling sorrow leach from every cell of her being and fill the space between them. Her sister turned, as if drawn to her gaze. My baby sister is gone. Kate was her own woman now, and she was rocking this bar on a Saturday night, in her element, luminous, running the business as if she had been born to it. She had; they both had. But it was killing Betsy, and Kate loved it.

  “How’s the coffee?” Kate asked.

  “It’s perfect. Can I have a go cup?”

  Kate’s lips firmed under their pink gloss. “I should have known you wouldn’t stick around for long.”

  “You’re one to talk.” Betsy searched her sister’s gaze for a hint of softness, an opening, a way to reach her, but Kate’s eyes were dark, hard, and impenetrable.

  Kate shrugged. “I covered my shifts.”

  Betsy nodded and accepted the paper cup. If Kate wasn’t going to tell her where she’d been all week, Betsy wasn’t going to ask. Her sister didn’t need a babysitter; of course she didn’t. Kate wasn’t a kid with soft blond curls and enormous, melting brown eyes anymore. She was a sleek, capable, sharp-eyed woman who wasn’t going to reach for Betsy’s hand and wait to be led. As Kate had pointed out, Betsy had left her behind, and Kate was returning the favor.

  Kids grow up, become independent, and create their own separate identities. Her mother’s words hit deep now. Betsy kept her eyes on the coffee while she poured it into the paper cup, and when she looked up, Kate was all the way at the other end of the bar, ignoring her again. She leaned into the abyss, peering into the dark space between them and testing the width of the crack. Emptiness yawned around her, staggering, sickening, too wide to jump, and she was going to have to get used to it.

  The urge to hop over the bar and race toward Kate, scoop her up and cuddle her close, force them back in time, twisted inside her. A sweat broke out on her forehead, scalp, and under her arms. Her palms itched, and her heart pounded louder than the throbbing bass line of the music. If she wanted to maintain any sort of relationship with her sister, she’d have to respect Kate’s independence, starting now.

  She left a hefty tip on the bar and turned toward the door.

  Quin was waiting for her in the Keystone lobby.

  His assistant had arrived this morning, so he hadn’t come in for lunch. He’d also begged off for dinner. Being alone in her apartment had felt strange, so she’d come to Last Call to make sure Kate had actually shown up for her next scheduled shift.

  In the back of her mind, she’d been considering lending a hand behind the bar, but it wasn’t her world anymore. Kate had clearly marked her territory, and Betsy was trespassing now. The rock music became the sound of roaring flames as that other crack, the one inside her, exploded with searing heat.

  Her hands hit the door, and she punched outward, slamming it shut behind her. She pressed her back to the brick wall and chugged what was left of the cold coffee in her hand, swallowing her hurt and disappointment along with the bittersweet brew. What was she going to do?

  Her original plan of opening at night wasn’t going to work, that much was clear. Could they compromise? Did Kate really want to sell or was she merely dead set against closing the bar entirely? The bar made more money than the café, and now that Betsy knew about the mortgage, closing it seemed foolish. But the thought of keeping it open made her feel so tired she nearly sank down to the sidewalk. She wanted a different life for them. She staggered the few steps to the Keystone, leaned against the gorgeous new gilded shutter, and peered into the lobby.

  Quin had made dozens of changes to the hotel over the last few days. He was taking her advice and subtly asking for more every time they were together. Only an idiot wouldn’t notice her own ideas popping up a day after making the suggestions, and Betsy wasn’t stupid.

  When she’d read the new menu posted outside the restaurant, she’d nearly choked on her tongue, but she hadn’t said anything. It felt good, damn good, to be taken seriously, even if Quin hadn’t thanked her or directly referenced the changes he was making. Eventually, he’d have to say something, and she was looking forward to that moment.

  Somehow his belief in her ideas was different than her mother’s faith. Her mom was going along with her plans, but she didn’t really want to close the bar and open for dinner. Quin adopted her plans with no reservations and seemed eager for more. Movement caught her eye, and she saw him near the elevators, gaze locked on her face. A burst of excitement hit her center and moved outward, firing her muscles to move toward the door.

  One week left. She knew it wasn’t real. It was a vacation. She’d never taken one, at least not if she didn’t count culinary school. The Culinary Academy had been one big long break from Last Call, but now she knew how much it had cost. Three hundred thousand dollars. My fault. My responsibility.

  Resentment rose inside her, but for once that big crack inside her was useful. She shoved her restless emotions down deep and entered the hotel, meeting him in the middle of the lobby, sealing the crack just as his arms encircled her waist and his lips settled over hers. She leaned into him, burying her hands in his hair, sensing his surprise and pulling him tighter, abandoning herself to his kiss. His lips thrust her mouth open, making a demand, and weakness slid through her veins. She needed a new plan, but she didn’t have to make it yet.

  Until Quin left, she was on vacation, and she was going to enjoy every minute.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Starving.”

  …

  She tugged him toward the elevator, but Quin had something else in mind. “Let’s go to your place.”

  “Wait—what? Why?”

  “Because tomorrow’s Sunday, and I figure the odds of you falling into a sex coma and spending the night with me are better at your place. You don’t have to work tomorrow, right?”

  Several expressions crossed her face. Wide-eyed surprise turned into narrow rebellion. Then she lifted her chin. He knew damn well she didn’t have to work tomorrow; he’d checked the café hours on the door, but her resolute expression told him she was going to say no anyway. He knew what to do when she did—push—but instead of arguing, she relaxed against him and sighed. “No, I don’t have to work tomorrow, and I can’t think of anything better than waking up with you.”

  Surprise locked him in place as his arms automatically tightened around her. Was she finally going to give him a chance? If so, he was glad he’d planned ahead. “Nothing better, huh? Not even the things I’m going to do to you before we fall asleep?”

  She lifted her head from his chest. “Are you going to do them again when we wake up?”

  “Probably several times.”

  “Then you see my point.” Her gaze paled, lighting from within.

  They had the full attention of the front-desk staff now, so he stepped back just enough to keep himself from getting a noticeable hard-on. Next week, the skeleton crew would be fully fleshed, and they’d have to quit meeting in the lobby. He steered her to one of the new chairs and gave her a gentle push. “Hang on. I need to grab something from my office.”

  On his way out, he asked one of the girls to hand him the shopping bag under the counter. When he returned to Betsy, she stared at the over-the-shoulder cooler Luc had packed for him and then stood on tiptoe to peer into the big bag. “What on earth is all that?”

  “Dinner, breakfast, a few snacks, and basic survival equipment. I saw your kitchen, and I don’t want to starve.”

  “I took most of my kitchen stuff to the café.”

  “I noticed. Which is why I bought a French press.”

  “Shut up.” The glee on her face made every sweaty, harried second of shopping while taking back-to-back conference calls worth it. He just hoped she’d
enjoy all of his purchases as much, especially the ones that had necessitated him doing his shopping himself.

  “I’m also going to make you dinner. And breakfast,” he added, gesturing for her to precede him out of the hotel. “Don’t worry. Luc amateur-proofed everything. I’m pretty sure I can boil water and scramble eggs.” She still wasn’t moving. Or smiling. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She walked out the door.

  “Seriously?” she asked when he steered her toward the waiting taxi. “It’s only a few blocks.”

  He handed the cooler to the driver. “I’m saving my feats of strength for later.”

  He slid into the taxi beside her and set the bag on the floor next to his feet. With Kyle in town to handle details, there was nothing on his agenda except convincing Betsy that their association didn’t need to end next week.

  He took her hand and squeezed. She wants to wake up with me tomorrow. A dark drumbeat of possession thrummed through him, tightening his grip.

  They’d spent every evening this week in bed, but she’d stuck to her guns and never stayed the night. His nightmares had returned, and he’d been tempted to get her drunk again, just to keep them at bay.

  Instead, he’d put her in a taxi or walked her home and then explored the French Quarter. No matter where he wandered, he never felt lost. Somehow, he knew these streets. Often, he’d find himself in the jazz bar near Betsy’s apartment, eyes closed, listening for…something. Or in his room, chasing memories with his new guitar and getting nowhere. Kyle had reported Trenton and Hart had no new leads. It was driving him crazy.

  He pulled her closer to him and leaned to inhale her scent. Oil, onions, clean sweat, and flowery soap. He licked her neck, tracing through the salt, groaning softly as she leaned into him. The sweet musky scent of her arousal rose above the others. He nipped lightly and then let her go as the taxi pulled up in front of her apartment. Dinner first. She was always hungry when she got off work, and he wanted to feed her.

  Then he planned to get her naked and get inside her, deep, everywhere, and stay there.

  …

  Betsy shivered and pressed closer to him, groaning as his cock nudged her hip.

  Emptiness howled. What was he waiting for? Was he trying to kill her with anticipation? He’d spent an eternity caressing her breasts and teasing her nipples with his tongue, brushing kisses over her collarbones and shoulders, nibbling, soft, wet trails that awakened every nerve-ending, and nipping her neck, a sharp counterpoint to his gentle exploration that made her so frantic she didn’t realize he’d pressed his knee between her thighs until she was writhing against him. Then he’d flipped her and begun caressing her back, ass, thighs, and calves. She spread her legs wider, wordlessly begging, arching into his hands, wanting more, wanting to give him more.

  The urge went deeper than skin. It had started when he’d announced his plan to cook and sharpened when he’d boiled water, cooked pasta, heated a spicy shrimp sauce, sliced bread, and tossed a salad. It wasn’t like he’d spent the day in the kitchen. He’d simply put food on plates, but it was more than any other man had ever done for her. Don’t get used to it. But another voice was just as loud and even more insistent. Enjoy every fucking minute. That was the voice she’d listened to when she’d agreed to let him spend the night. Would she have said yes if she’d known he was going to torment her for hours?

  He traced a line down the center of her back, teasing the crack of her ass and making her core swell and ache. A moan gurgled in her throat as his fingers brushed her opening, once, and then again. Was he going to…did he want to…

  Did she want him to? Her ass bucked toward his hand when he stopped. Guess that answers that. Even if her mind wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted, her body knew. Her breath left her mouth in short raw pants as he pressed his finger against the ultra-sensitive flesh.

  Pleasure made her writhe and then hold stock-still as his fingertip slipped inside her ass. A mesmerizing feeling of powerlessness gripped her, focusing her entire being on one square inch of her body, as he slowly pumped his finger out and then in. She hissed at the burn. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it held the promise of pain. She stiffened, making a sound of protest, and his other hand dipped beneath her.

  A lightning bolt of ecstasy flashed as he found her clit. The finger in her ass inched forward again, and it was all pleasure, tight, hot, and aching. She flew up and up, a fireball shooting skyward. Holy fuck. She was terrified by the intensity of her response, and she struggled for control, arms and legs seeking purchase on the bed. His fingers withdrew, leaving her body empty. She mourned the loss but was enormously relieved at the same time.

  He stretched out behind her, pulling her body into the warm curve of his as his hand slid over her hip to delve between her thighs, sliding long fingers inside her. It felt good, but nothing like the fire that had raged through her a moment ago. She lifted one leg and tucked it behind his, opening her thighs wide to give him better access. His cock throbbed between her buttocks and she shifted, rubbing against him, seeking more sensation.

  He met her thrusts with steady pressure. If his cock slid down a few inches, he’d be poised to slide inside her ass. The thought made her clench. Sparks shot behind her eyelids, and fire rose within her, blistering and sharp.

  His teeth nipped her neck, bringing her back down. “You like to be taken. You enjoy being pushed.” His body was warm and strong, his voice, steady and sure. “Do you trust me?”

  I don’t trust anyone. She gritted her teeth against the treacherous desire to feel control slipping away and said nothing.

  He chuckled and the sound tickled her ear. “Let me be more specific. Do you trust me to make you feel good? I’d never hurt you, but I want inside you.” His cock slipped between her buttocks, made slippery with sweat, leaving her in no doubt of where he wanted to get inside. An animal sound of need flew from her chest. She couldn’t breathe. The desire was so great she felt it everywhere. Thought slipped away, no match for the heat in her blood, and she struggled to find words. “Um…I’ve never…I don’t know how…”

  “I do. I’ll take care of everything if you trust me to take care of you.” His cock nudged her anus while his fingers circled her clit. A groan slid from her throat. The sound was raw and greedy. Did she trust him to take her that way? Yes. The answer burst inside her, further confusing her already overwhelmed brain.

  She struggled to focus, to give reason to the inexplicable trust she had in this dangerous man who had dropped a lit match at her feet and forced her to realize she was standing on a powder keg. Her hips moved, pressing back against his cock, and her body swelled, rising to meet him. Her doubts were no match for her need. From the minute she’d seen him, she’d wanted him. Did it have to be more complicated than that? She had him now. Since she only had a limited amount of time to enjoy his company, why place limits?

  She looked over her shoulder, twisting to see his expression as she nodded.

  Hunger flared in his gaze. He sat up, flipping her onto her back and thrusting a pillow under her hips, and then he reached over the side of the bed. Doubt chilled her as she saw a purple tube of lubricant. He must have brought it with him. “Whoa, hey, slow down. Were you planning this?”

  He held her thighs open as she tried to close them. “You liked it when I touched your ass the other night.” He stated it as a fact. “You’ll like this even more.”

  “You’ve done this before?” With other women, she wanted to add, but didn’t. The fact that she was just one in a long string for him shouldn’t bother her. He stroked a hand down her thigh and she squirmed. “That wasn’t the hand you…” she trailed off.

  His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them, gold glints absent. “I know my right from my left.”

  Another thing that told her he’d had practice. Her breath caught in her throat as he pried her knees open and kneeled between them. She was being ridiculous. Practice was good. But the arousal that had burned hot enough to in
cinerate barely flickered.

  “Hold still a second.” He flipped the cap open. She tensed as he squirted lube onto his fingers. “Stop me if you don’t like it, but give it a chance. You like the edge. Let me take you there.”

  He touched her ass. The lube was cold. She jumped and clenched.

  “Relax.”

  “That’s harder than it sounds.”

  “Not harder than me.”

  She looked at his cock. He was huge, distended, and engorged. “I guess you like this.”

  He caught her gaze and held it as he slowly penetrated her ass with one smooth, slippery finger. “Hell, yes. The thought of you letting me into places no one has ever been makes me insane. And I’m not just saying that so you’ll let me fuck your ass. I want to get inside you so deep you can’t think, to make you feel things you’ve never felt. To be there with you. I can’t explain it any better than that.” But it was there in his eyes, the same dark need she felt. She wanted to lose control; he wanted to take it.

  “Then that makes two of us.” He’d told her to relax, but the way he was touching her made everything tense and hot, needy. Her entire body warmed, flaring to life around him, catching the rhythm of his movements and matching them. He made a sound deep in the back of his throat, an animal sound, and it pleased her. He was making her feel desperate and out of control. He’d admitted he wanted to take her to the edge, but he wasn’t going to leave her there alone. His body was solid, hard, a rock between her thighs.

  She cupped her breasts, and he blinked rapidly, lips firming into a taut line. She had power over him, too, and it was sweet. She smiled, and he smiled back, the slow one. Then he pinched her clit between his fingers, and she gasped. It was so much more intense with his finger in her ass, unbelievable, incredible, terrifying.

  She tried to relax, but his hand moved. Was that another finger? She felt her world expand, contract, and then steady again.