by Alexx Andria
Warmth flooded my pelvis and I squirmed, intensely grateful that Jameson couldn’t see my reaction.
But the bastard must’ve sensed it because that damnable chuckle tickled my ear, giving away what he knew.
“Let’s say I believe you — which, I don’t — what makes you think that I wouldn’t want to be the first man to split you open?”
“God, are you always so crude?” I squeaked, barely able to breathe.
My heart was seriously jack-hammering and I thought at this rate, I might faint and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking that he’d caused it.
Even if it were true.
“You’re disgusting,” I said in a shaky tone that sounded a little too breathy for my tastes but I couldn’t quite help it. “I’m not attracted to you…at all.”
That was mostly true.
He ignored my statement. “Want to know something? I’m hard as fuck right now. You’re not my type either, baby girl, but there’s something about you that turns my crank. Do I like to fuck virgins? Not usually but for you…I’d make an exception.”
“Why?” I asked plaintively, wishing he’d been turned off by my admission. “I’m not interested in being your…whatever…fuck-buddy or whatever you’d like to call it. I want my first time to be meaningful…with someone I love. Not…a payoff. That makes me no different than a prostitute.”
“Baby, we’re all prostituting ourselves for something,” he said, amused. “You’re naïve if you think otherwise.”
“You’re a ray of sunshine,” I replied to his open cynicism, a prick of something akin to pity softening my tone. “You must be very unhappy.”
That seemed to be the wrong thing to say.
His voice took on a cold edge. “I don’t believe you’re a virgin but props for trying to pull that one off. Girls with brothers like yours don’t stay pure for long.”
Instant anger washed away the unwelcome hint of arousal I may have been suffering for the smallest sliver of time and I had to stop myself from shouting into the phone.
“You arrogant asshole,” I said. “You don’t know anything about my life or how I’ve lived it. You don’t have the right to judge me or make assumptions about my reputation. I am a virgin and staying away from jerks like you has been pretty easy, actually. I want a man who will cherish me, not treat me like property.”
“And yet you’re contemplating selling your car to bail out a brother who wouldn’t do the same for you,” he pointed out. “Seems either way, you’re willing to sell something of value to help out that shitbag.”
I couldn’t argue. He was right. I was considering selling my car.
And I agonized over the fear that Frankie wouldn’t truly appreciate my sacrifice.
I would end up carless, without a way to work and Frankie would find a way to get into more trouble.
My head began to throb. “Just fuck off,” I grumbled, wishing I’d never made the call. What had I been thinking? Jameson Reed didn’t care about anything but himself.
“The deal stands.”
I startled. “W-what?”
“You heard me,” he said, his voice roughened. “Make your choice.”
What a fucking asshole. He was making me go through with this.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked. “Surely, there are other women…willing women…who are interested in having sex with you. Why don’t you go find them?”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
The steel in his voice was frightening and, God help me, terribly alluring in the worst, most shameful way.
A beat of charged silence followed before I hung up.
He still wanted me. He wanted to take my virginity! The thing I’d been saving for someone special! Angry tears burned behind my eyes but I didn't let them fall.
I wasn’t going to cry. Tears didn’t solve anything.
I’d learned a long time ago that crying over a situation was a waste of energy.
But I felt defeated. I was trapped by my love for my big brother. I knew he wasn’t perfect but Frankie had always been my protector.
Frankie had been there when our parents died, looked out for me, made sure I had food and clothing, money for school books.
How could I abandon him when he clearly needed me?
I would never in a million years ditch the one person who’d always put my welfare above his own.
At least he used to.
I didn’t know if Frankie was addicted to drugs. I knew he was a dealer and I hated that, but I also knew that Frankie had done what he had to, to survive.
I didn’t judge him.
But damn it, when was he going to get his shit together so I could actually start living my life?
I just wanted some stability in my life for once.
If I didn't take the deal, Frankie might die in jail.
That was the cold, hard truth.
He'd made some poor choices in his life and there were plenty of people on the inside who'd like to get a piece of him.
I shuddered to think of what else might happen to him. Frankie was a good-looking guy — in spite of the drug use — and the last time he'd been beaten nearly to death it'd been because he'd fought off a guy trying to rape him in the supply closet.
Jameson might think Frankie deserved being fresh meat behind locked doors but I couldn’t leave my brother to that kind of fate.
It was barbaric, for one; but two, it was impossible to fathom the terror of being assaulted knowing no one was going to save you.
I couldn't leave Frankie in there. What kind of sister would I be if I turned my back on my only family?
Frankie would never abandon me if it were reversed. Frankie had been the one to watch my back when we were kids, even fending off foster dads with touchy-feely hands.
I wiped at my eyes. The choice seemed pretty clear. The phone in my hand seemed to leer at me, taunting me with the knowledge that I was going to place that call and take Jameson's deal.
The fucking, evil bastard.
And he probably knew it. Probably still had the phone in his hand, waiting.
Time to deal. I wasn't a baby anymore. Twenty-three was probably a long time to hold onto something like virginity in this day and age.
I rubbed my nose and tried to get a hold of myself. I’d long since learned life wasn't fair so there was no sense in belaboring the point.
I squeezed my eyes shut and hit redial. Within seconds he answered.
I went straight to the point, nearly choking on the bitterness on my tongue. “You have to promise me he gets probation,” I said tightly.
“That's not a promise I can make.”
“Then find a way. I won't do this otherwise.” He wasn't the only one who could drive a hard bargain.
Jameson hesitated but ultimately agreed. “Fine.”
I let out a breath. Was this really happening? “Okay...where and when?”
“No time like the present.”
“N-now?” I stammered, shocked that he was so eager when I wanted to put it off for as long as possible. “It’s late.”
He seemed to think better of his answer and said, “You’re right. Tomorrow, I want you to go get waxed. Everywhere.”
I wanted to vomit. This was more than I bargained for.
“You don't get to dictate—“
“Everywhere. Except for a nice landing strip. I like that.”
I wanted to scream at the injustice, the sheer audacity of the man to demand such a thing after everything I was sacrificing. Wasn’t it bad enough that I was agreeing to this disgusting exchange?
“Ivy.”
His voice in my ear sent unwanted shivers down my spine.
I hated that his voice had that effect on me.
I shouldn’t feel anything but revulsion for the man who was forcing me to sacrifice my values to save my brother.
“I look forward to seeing you.”
I didn't trust my voice not to tremble and simply hung up. Secon
ds later a text bubble appeared with an address.
This was insanity.
My stomach felt ready to rebel except I hadn't eaten anything to purge.
How would I get through this without wanting to die?
Jameson
I was going to hell.
I stared at my phone and shook my head at the career suicide I was eagerly committing.
Maybe it was too much time spent undercover, hanging with dirtbags, learning their secrets that I’d forgotten what it meant to be a decent human being.
There was no prettying up what I was doing. Hell, I was playing fast and loose with the law.
Skimming the edge of disaster with two wheels off the ground.
I was supposed to undergo a psych eval each time I surfaced from deep cover but I usually found a way to get out of that detail.
The captain didn't much care about my mental state as long as I was still bringing home wins and big busts.
Looked good on paper for the captain.
I didn’t exactly log a win this time around though. I wondered if that would affect my ‘captain credit.’
If I were smart, I’d call off this deal and forget it ever happened but that would mean I’d have to forget about the way Ivy made me feel and that wasn’t going to happen.
She was under my skin and I’d never even touched her yet.
Going undercover means having to shelve the ‘real you’ for someone that you probably despise.
I would never hang with the fuckers that I traffic with when I’m playing a part.
I’ve backstabbed people who thought I was their friend.
I’ve watched as women who were in love with me, were handcuffed and thrown into the back of a squad car.
And I felt nothing.
That was the thing. Lately, I felt a whole lot of nothing.
Maybe I shouldn’t have cancelled that latest shrink eval. Maybe I was afraid of what might turn up.
I tossed my phone to the table and scrubbed my face, intensely aware that I was in the deep end of the pool but damn, the truth of it was...I couldn't bring myself to swim to safety.
If Hank knew what I was doing, he'd try to knock some sense into me.
But Hank wasn't going to know and I wasn't going to share.
Ivy.
Was this what obsession felt like?
I’d busted plenty of stalkers in my tenure and they all said the same thing: But I love her.
As if that erased a multitude of sins.
Fuck love.
Fuck emotional attachment.
I just wanted to go balls deep inside a hot pussy.
Sure, as long as that pussy belonged to a certain tiny blonde with the bluest eyes I’d ever seen in his life.
Hell...running from the truth had never worked out well for anyone but I was willing to give it a shot.
Once I got her out of my system, I’d be fine. I could walk away — no problem.
Like I wanted some chick hanging all over me, cramping my style.
I wasn’t the marrying type. Or the faithful type.
I liked the freedom to bring home whomever I chose — to bang whomever I chose.
And I was good at it.
Practice made perfect.
Ivy
I walked on unsteady feet to the front door of the house belonging to the address Jameson had sent.
The older neighborhood was quiet, unassuming. The houses on the street were maintained but not flashy in any way.
At one time maybe the neighborhood had been uptown but now, it was probably comprised of rentals owned by people who had long since moved away to Florida and maintained the homes for supplemental income.
I could still back out.
Just walk away. Turn around and get back in your car. Forget that you ever considered this disgusting exchange.
I hesitated…as if I was actually going to renege. But my choices were limited. I couldn’t let Frankie rot, even though it was his own choices that’d put him back in jail.
Way to personify an enabler, Ivy.
Great, now the voice inside my head was also disgusted with my actions.
Just get it over with.
I put on a brave face and knocked on the door.
I held my breath, hoping against hope that perhaps he'd decided to stand me up so I could chicken out without losing too much face.
But no such luck.
The door opened before I could blink and there he was, grinning, looking supremely pleased with the fact that I’d shown up.
I scowled. “Stop looking so happy. You’re an asshole for making me do this.”
“I’m surprised to see you keep your word. Frankly, I expected less from someone like you.”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means, I put little faith in your family’s ability to hold true to something.”
I clenched my jaw and stalked past him into the small living room. “Are you going to insult me all night or invite me in so we can get this over with?”
“If my proposal upsets you so much why are you willing to do this for that worthless brother of yours?”
I scowled. “Picking me apart for my choices isn't your right.” I gestured nervously. “Just take off your pants and let's get it over with.”
Jameson laughed. “In a hurry? Got a date?”
“Maybe I don't want to spend a moment longer than I have to with you.”
His smile faded and he pulled his belt free, leaving it to hang ominously from his fingertips. “Sweetheart, has anyone ever told you, that your sense of self-preservation was damaged as fuck?”
“It's been mentioned.”
“Let me scrub your head of whatever notion you have of what tonight is going to be like...I've never been a minute-man and I don't plan to start tonight. What I'm going to do to you will be slow, hard, and thorough. By the time we're through, it'll be a damn miracle if you can walk.”
The blood drained from my face. “You're going to hurt me?”
“Only if you ask me to.”
“Why would I ask you to hurt me?” I asked, baffled.
“Oh honey, sometimes a little pain sweetens the pleasure.”
I opened my mouth to snap but before I could say a word, his hot, greedy mouth was claiming mine, pushing me onto the mattress with the bulk of his heavy body.
I felt impossibly tiny against him and there was something darkly intense about the way my nerve endings came to life at his rough touch.
There was nothing sweet or gentle about Jameson.
He took what he wanted, no matter my feelings on the matter.
As if I belonged to him.
I whimpered as his hand gripped my throat, holding me in place while his other hand palmed my soft belly.
Trembles betrayed me as needy warmth funneled south, slicking my insides and turning me to jelly.
He had me pinned.
It was heady and scary at the same time.
Jameson mixed fear with lust and it was a combustible concoction, one I never would've admitted in a million years that made me slippery with mindless desire.
Desire I desperately wanted to fight.
I stiffened, purposefully shutting down the thoughts that jumped like rabbits escaping a fire through my mind.
Mustn't be aroused! This was sick! Jameson was the devil!
I pushed against him, breaking the kiss, breathing hard.
“I’m not a piece of meat you can just devour,” I said, my voice shaking.
“Wrong. You are mine to eat at my leisure,” he corrected me.
I had to catch my breath. I just needed a minute to regroup.
My gaze darted to the interior of his house, grasping onto the first thing I noticed.
A man definitely lived here.
Solid colors, bold, manly, and very little in the way of pictures or sentiment.
Did he live here or did he just sleep here?
“I doesn’t surprise me that you keep nothing in the way o
f mementos in your house,” I disdained, hoping my insult hit home. “People like you probably don’t have any true friends and any family you might have, have probably long since washed their hands of you.”
“Baby girl’s got claws,” he said.
“Stop calling me that,” I returned, hating the way my belly trembled when those stupid words fell from his mouth. “I’m an adult.”
“Oh yes, you are,” he agreed and I immediately regretted saying anything. His hot gaze roaming my body felt as primal as if his hands were touching me. He grinned. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Let's get this straight — I'm not comfortable and I never will be. I just want this to be over with.”
He laughed at my insistence to just do the deed so I could leave and scrub my skin off.
Would I ever be able to completely scrub his touch from my memory?
Even as I wanted to shake with revulsion at the very idea, I was becoming hot and twitchy. My pelvis felt heavy and my vagina (I refuse to call it pussy, that’s just gross) was becoming slick.
I wasn’t stupid.
Those were classic arousal signs.
But I didn’t want to be aroused by him.
I think getting hot and slippery over Ghengis Khan would’ve been preferable to doing it with Jameson Reed.
Jameson's dark eyes narrowed but those damnable lips twisted in a dangerous smirk that sent my belly to quivering with something that wasn't entirely unpleasant. “I like a girl who knows how to get to the point.”
And then lightening fast, Jameson had jerked me into his arms. Those thick bands of muscle wrapped around me, lifting me off my feet, and I gasped even as he hoisted me onto his hips.
I had no choice but to wrap my legs around his torso and cling to him.
“What are you doing?” I asked in an agonized whisper.
Could he feel the heat at my center against his belly?
Would he know that I was shamefully turned-on even if I didn’t want to be?
His chest was like granite.
Everywhere my fingers went, I was met with solid steel.
Flutters of warmth tickled my insides as he gripped my behind, squeezing as if it were his right to touch me so intimately.
“Why are you still a virgin?” he asked in a low tone as he slowly walked to the bedroom.