Give Me Hell

by Kate McCarthy

  I pause. There’s worry in his expression and it makes my chest ache. Don’t look at me like that, Jake. You don’t have the right.

  I raise an arm. “Yes, Jake. I’ll be moving too.”

  Jake exhales in a whoosh. Then he gives me a single nod and lifts his arm. “Looks like it’s unanimous.”

  My heart leaps. Don’t you dare, I rage at its foolish notion. Jake abandoned us. He left right when we needed him the most. There’s no forgetting what he did and there’s no forgiving it.

  My spine snaps straight and I force a smile. “Right then.” I clap my hands together. “Let’s have a drink to celebrate!”

  “Mac, is everything okay?”

  I pull my gaze from Jake and smile at Evie. “Everything’s fine.”

  Her eyes drop to my empty drink. It’s been one of many. “Can I get you another?”

  I don’t need more alcohol, but today has been a bad day. Jake had cut through my defences like a swift blade. I need those defences. They keep me strong. “I can get it.”

  I leave her side and make my way to the kitchen, my head fuzzy. As I stand at the counter pouring a glass of wine, the scent of spiced soap sets me alight. Heat lines the length of my back and Jake’s lips tickle my ear. I shiver. “Tying one on tonight, Princess?”

  “Back the fuck off,” I bark, setting the bottle on the counter. I pick up my glass and turn, forcing Jake to back up a step. The step isn’t big enough to give me any breathing room, but my eyes remain cool. I swirl the tawny liquid in my glass and take a sip. He watches with glittering eyes. “So what if I am?”

  “You can do what you like, but all that alcohol you’re downing tells me I’m getting to you.”

  “I can do what I like?” Disbelief makes my tone so snide my eyes water. “Thanks for your permission, Romero, but considering how you went behind my back, deciding you…” I take a step forward and jab my left finger in his chest “…knew what was best…” jab “…for me…” jab “…your statement rings a little false. I’m sure you understand. As for you getting to me? Well, I’d have to have a heart for that to happen.”

  And I don’t because you broke it.

  “No heart?” Jake cocks his head and smirks. “Doesn’t that make you the lion from The Wizard of Oz?”

  My knuckles turn white as I tighten my grip on the wine glass. “No it doesn’t, asshead. It’s the Tinman who doesn’t have a heart. Perhaps you’re the lion. He’s the one searching for courage, which is fitting, isn’t it? Or maybe you’re the scarecrow in search of a brain, hmm? Either way, it seems you’re lacking both.”

  Jake’s expression hardens. “You get off on being a bitch, don’t you?”

  “To you? It just comes naturally.”

  Henry appears beside us. “Is everything okay here?”

  “Everything’s fine,” Jake says, even though the tension in his body is obvious. It fairly crackles in the air around him.

  “I was just teaching Jake about the moral of The Wizard of Oz.”

  Henry doesn’t bat an eye over the subject matter. He simply stands there, beer in hand and a puzzled expression. “There’s a moral to that movie?”

  “There is,” I say, taking another sip of wine.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  “That men are stupid.”

  Jake scowls.

  “That’s funny,” Henry says. “I don’t remember getting any of that from the story.”

  “You’re right,” I concede. “I must have been referring to the movie about that girl who thought she loved a guy. But it turned out she actually didn’t. It was all just a big mistake.”

  “Oh … What’s that one called?”

  My lips press flat as I stare at Jake. “The Betrayal.”

  Henry’s forehead wrinkles. “I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

  “Probably because it’s shit,” I tell him.

  Jake shrugs. “I heard they planned a sequel so it can’t have been all that bad.”

  “A sequel?” I snort. “Titled what?”

  “I Screwed Up and I’m Sorry.”

  “That kinda sounds like a long title,” Henry interjects.

  We both ignore him. My silent glare is too busy telling Jake he can stick his title where the sun doesn’t shine. “It also sounds a little too late,” I add to Henry. “I mean, what’s the second movie about anyway? How she forgives him? Because that would never happen.”

  “Forgives him for what?” Henry asks, trying desperately to keep up with our conversation.

  “For fucking up the best thing he ever had,” Jake replies as he looks at me.

  My palms sweat as I cling to my wavering resolve. I take a fortifying sip of wine and pray the glass doesn’t slip from my fingers.

  “Christ. That sounds like a chick flick. No thanks.” Henry guzzles the last of his beer and waves the empty bottle at us. “Time for another. You both good?”

  “We’re good,” Jake answers, “but I think Mac needs some fresh air.”

  My bicep is grabbed and I’m marched toward the apartment door. Unfortunately, I’m drunk; the room spins and escape proves elusive. “You’ve decided I need fresh air? Funny, but that doesn’t sound like a man on the road to his redemption. It sounds to me like he hasn’t changed a bit.”

  “Don’t be a smartass,” Jake growls. “The pretence of fresh air is so I can get you alone. We need to talk.”

  “And what if I don’t want to talk?”

  His eyes heat in an instant. My antagonistic words roll right off his back. “Then I’m sure we can find something else to do.”

  My body is on board with that plan. I don’t have to forgive him to sleep with him. In fact, I don’t have to like him at all. My gaze runs the length of his back, following the bunch and flex of muscle moving beneath his shirt.

  Would sleeping with Jake be such a bad idea?

  Yes! my inner voice shouts with force. A monumentally bad idea.

  Why? I argue as my gaze drops lower. His waist is trim, his ass round and firm. Jesus. I know he works out. I see him come and go from the university gym every day. It makes eyeballing his body this close an exercise in restraint.

  Do I need to list out the reasons why? There are too many.

  Jake opens the door to his apartment, oblivious to my internal struggle as he pulls me along. He shuts the door behind us and lets me go.

  I stand in the living area watching him move toward the kitchen with fuzzy eyes. “So what else did you want to do, then?” I ask him. “Because I have an idea.”

  Jake pauses in the act of setting his beer on the counter. He turns and looks at me. I still have the wine glass in my hand. I lift it to my lips and tip it back, swallowing the last half in one go. Then I set the glass on their little coffee table with a clank.

  With my hands now free, I take the hem of my tank top and peel it off, mussing my hair as I toss it on the nearby sofa.

  My intentions cannot be any clearer.

  The pulse point in Jake’s neck throbs visibly. “I want to talk.” His tone is rough as if saying the words pains him.

  My chin lifts. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “I’m never wrong.”

  “So what?” His eyes darken. They run down the length of me and back up again. My body aches, the need inside me rising to a level so strong I’m drowning in it. “You want to …”

  He trails off as I start toward him, reaching behind to unclasp my bra as I get closer. “To fuck?” Good. That’s good, Mac, my inner voice croons. Keep emotion out of it. Nothing more to it than just a physical reaction. “Yeah.”

  I drop my bra to the floor, now clad only in a pair of denim shorts.

  “Mac …” His protest is weak. “Please. Can we just talk for a minute?”

  “I don’t want to,” I say, reaching his side.

  I take his shirt and tug it up. He reaches behind and peels it off. “What do you want?” he asks, his question a hoarse whispe
r of need.

  “You.”

  Jake puts his hands on my shoulders. He runs the calloused palms down my arms and presses his forehead to mine. “I want you too. So much.”

  I hate you for this, Jake. For making me want you after everything you did. My body trembles and my eyes burn from the wild emotion. I close them, finding that space where I can let go and give myself over. I need this outlet, desperately. “So take me.”

  Jake’s grip tightens at my submission, and his lips press against mine.

  Oh god. The light touch is so intimate my legs almost give out. His kiss is the equivalent of spending days in the desert and getting your first sip of cool water. My mouth opens with invitation. Jake doesn’t disappoint. His hot, hungry tongue sweeps in and rubs against mine. A hand fists in my hair. My scalp stings from the force of it.

  A breathless moan escapes me.

  Jake breaks the kiss, panting as he draws back. He lets go of me and skates his hands down my chest until he’s cupping my breasts. His touch isn’t enough. It’s too light. His grip firms as if hearing my need. He runs his fingers over my nipples, pinching them. I moan again and he pinches harder. A subtle sliver of pain shoots through me, igniting my blood. It sends a rush of heat between my legs. “Oh god,” I groan.

  “You like that?”

  My eyes flutter open. “More,” is all I get passed my lips.

  “Fuck,” he mutters, heat flaring in his eyes.

  Jake walks me backward until I reach the sofa. He pushes me down. My ass hits the soft cushions, and he takes the button of my shorts and flicks it open. The zipper slides down and my shorts are tugged off.

  My panties follow quickly. Jake yanks them down with force, his expression almost brutal with its intensity. Kneeling between my legs, he grabs my thighs. His fingers dig in as he wrenches me toward him. “I can’t be gentle with you, Princess,” he cautions, his eyes dark and hungry. “Not right now.”

  My stomach knots with pain. You’ll always be my princess.

  Oh my god. I still love him. The shocking realisation leaves me sick. How can you still love the person who left you when you needed them the most? What is wrong with me? I’m strong enough to withstand a goddamn apocalypse.

  So why can’t I withstand you, Jake Romero?

  I glare. “Good. I don’t want gentle from you. Ever.”

  Because that will be too much.

  JAKE

  My heart is raw from the punches Mac keeps pulling. I endure them. As long as I can have her, even like this, it’s enough. For now.

  I lower my head and stroke her with my tongue.

  A soft breath escapes her lips. But I want more. I want her crying my name.

  I take her clit in my mouth and suck hard. So hard it probably hurts. Her back bows from the couch and her head falls back. My cock throbs at the sight.

  I keep it up. Mac wants rough. She likes it. I lick and suck hard, giving her what she wants.

  Taking her left leg, I lift it and hold up the back of her thigh with my hand. It exposes more of her to my eyes. She’s beautiful everywhere, and so fucking hot it’s almost unbearable. I slide a finger down the silken skin of her pussy before I slip it inside, moving in and out.

  “Fuck,” she pants, her hips moving with me.

  I push in another.

  “Oh god, yes,” she hisses, biting her bottom lip.

  My head dips and my mouth finds her again. My fingers continue to drive in and out. The rougher I become, the harder she breathes and the more her hips grind against my mouth.

  A shudder racks my body. If I’m not inside her soon, I’m going to blow in my shorts. I draw back, letting her leg drop so I can get them off, but I’m too impatient. I’m aching too much to have her. All I can manage is to shove my shorts down.

  “Get down here,” I growl with a rough breath, tugging on her leg.

  She slides until her ass hits the floor.

  I spread her legs and the little restraint I have left snaps. Leaning forward, I line my cock with the entrance to her pussy. Fuck condoms. At this point I’m too far gone to care.

  “Condom,” she pants.

  “Why?” I glare, holding my position. “Have you been with anyone else?”

  It’s a ridiculous question. It’s been years. Of course she has. But I haven’t. God knows I’ve tried. There have been more opportunities than I can count. But it always felt wrong, and I would stop before it reached the point of no return. I didn’t care that my friends thought me mad shunning numerous advances. I wasn’t going to sleep with a girl just to look good in their eyes.

  The pain of losing Mackenzie Valentine had been too raw. It still is. She’s all encompassing. Like the sun. She rises and sets, but she never dims, and no matter what I do, I can’t block her out.

  “Fuck you, Jake,” she snaps in answer to my question. “Put one on or this isn’t happening.”

  I draw back and jab a finger. “Don’t move.”

  I stand and kick off my shorts as I walk to the bathroom. The box inside the cabinet beneath the sink is almost empty. I grab one, tearing the wrapper open with my teeth and sliding it down my cock as I walk back.

  Satisfaction is a hot surge when I see Mac still there, right where I left her. I kneel back down, and she looks at me for a long, pained breath.

  “Not like this,” she says.

  Mac turns over and gives me her back, then leans her forearms on the couch. My eyes travel the sweet curve of her back and down to the round cheeks of her ass. My cock twitches. Her ass. “You want …” I almost choke. “You want me to fuck your ass?”

  “No.” She pushes back against me. My hips surge forward of their own accord, and I rub my cock between her cheeks. “I want you this way.”

  Her head lowers, waiting, expectant.

  And then I know and my heart aches.

  Mac can’t look at me. She wants to pretend it’s not my cock inside her body. She doesn’t want me, she wants a faceless fuck.

  With an angry snarl, I grab the soft skin of her hips and pull her close. Guiding my cock, I slide inside, inch by inch, until she’s full of me. Her round cheeks rest against me as I hold her tight. “You don’t want to see who’s fucking you?” Reaching forward, I take a fistful of hair and wrench her head back and to the side. The angle ensures she can’t miss seeing me, and what I’m doing to her. “Too bad.”

  I draw out and drive back in. Hard. And then I do it again. And again. And again.

  Fuck. I can’t last at this pace. “I should give you that spanking you deserve for the way you talk to me.”

  There’s no should about it. I let go of her hair and my hand connects with her ass cheek in a light slap. Mac’s eyes close and I’m rewarded with a long, slow moan as her skin turns a faint shade of pink.

  My cock tingles and I’m ready to explode. I grab her hips and stop, trying to think of algebra and old Mrs. Lawrence who taught fifth grade. She was ancient and never shaved her legs. The manlike hair would poke through the beige stockings she wore.

  Mac whimpers and pushes against me, begging for me. “Harder, Jake. Please.”

  Oh Christ. I’m done for. I slap her again without even thinking about it. Harder this time.

  She cries out and the flush on her ass colours to a deep rose. God, why does that feel so good? And look so hot? Combined with the sweet taste of her on my lips, it’s sensory overload. I’m about to come like a freight train.

  I wrap an arm around her waist and press my chest against the bare length of her back. It allows me to reach her clit. I find it and rub as I drive in and out, silently begging her to come so I can let go.

  She does. Mac gives out beneath me. Her pussy contracts and shudders, forcing me to explode. My cock pulses. I wrap both arms around her as I ride the enormous wave of sensation.

  Emotion overwhelms me. God, I love this girl. So much.

  Mac mumbles something I don’t catch.

  “What?”

  She pushes backward. “Get of
f me.”

  My brow furrows as I draw out slowly. I tug the condom off and tie it in a knot. Rising on unsteady legs, I walk to the kitchen and throw it in the trash. When I return, Mac is half dressed and reaching for her shirt.

  My stomach dips. “What are you doing?”

  Her response is cool. “Leaving.”

  Fuck. That hurts. “Mac …”

  She pulls the tank top over her head and twitches it in place. When she’s finished, she looks at me. “Jake, you were an itch. I scratched it.”

  Mac walks to the door and takes the handle. She turns, taming her mess of her. “Thanks.”

  Then she leaves.

  I’m left standing naked, staring at the back of the closed door as I wonder what the hell just happened.

  MAC

  Fifteen months later…

  ANZ Stadium Sydney

  After arriving for sound check, Evie and I walk on the stage, taking in the huge stadium of my home city. It’s late January and the afternoon sun is bright and hot. The arena is empty, minus the stagehands rearranging barriers, sorting cables, and doing everything else they need to do in order to ensure a smooth, successful concert.

  Evie wears oversized sunglasses, yet she still has to shade her eyes as we stare out over the cavernous space. I glance at her, seeing both pain and triumph on her face. As the person who pushed Jared and Evie together, I feel responsible for both. The past year has been nothing less than turbulent. My beautiful friend has been dragged through hell and it isn’t over yet.

  Jamieson and Valentine caught a case involving two criminal brothers. Jared shot and killed one. The other, Jimmy, remains at large, revenge now his sole purpose in life. He’s determined to get his hands on Evie and exact similar retribution. She’s being watched around the clock by the Badass Brigade and yet months later, Jimmy still eludes the authorities.

  We’re all on edge waiting for him to strike again. It’s exhausting, and yet every time I try taking matters into my own hands, I get thwarted. Mostly by Travis and Mitch. Jared’s sole focus is on Evie.

  She breathes warm air deep inside her lungs. “How did we get here?”

  “The limousine brought you here, Sandwich.”