by Aubrey Watts
Song lyrics—pages of them; hastily written in red ink with hearts above all the I’s.
“You’re a musician?”
“No,” she says, continuing her strumming, “I mean…it depends what you consider a musician.”
She’s beautiful, even like this—with her mouth all swollen and pink from kissing and her mascara running. Not many women could pull off such a look and make it seem easy.
“You’re good,” I say with a nod, smiling at her when her eyes fall on mine. “Honestly, I didn’t really see my night turning out like this.”
She stops her strumming and pauses with her fingers over the strings. “No?” She questions. “Why did you come to the Rhino, anyway?”
I shrug. “What, you mean the first time? Or?”
“Both times. Also, how do you know Angie?”
Angie.
Right, the deaf woman. Joaquin’s old lady.
“I don’t know her…I mean not really. She’s a friend of a friend.” This is one of those situations where keeping things simple is for the best. Evelyn is great; there’s no denying that. But there’s also no sense in dragging another innocent person into a sea of bullshit. “She just wanted to show me and my brothers where she worked. I think my younger brother Griff has a thing for her.”
She laughs. “Really? That’s sweet. She’s a nice person…”
Then how the hell did she end up with someone like Joaquin? I want to ask, but I don’t.
“What about the second time?”
“Huh?”
Evelyn brushes a strand of hair out of her face and sets down the guitar, reaching for a tiny tin box on the floor beside her bed. “Why did you come back again? Alone…” She pulls a pre-rolled joint out and lights it, offering it to me. I take a hit and shrug.
“Sometimes I just…I take off and drive. I end up places. Usually wherever I need to be in the moment.”
Hipster bullshit, I’m sure that’s what it sounds like. But Evelyn only smiles. “Want to fuck?”
She says it like she’s offering me a glass of water. I stare at her, studying the way the darkness contrasts against her olive skin. Her legs—accentuated by torn fishnet thigh-highs—are tucked beneath her body. She’s on her knees, staring at me all expectantly, and I choke on my voice trying to form a response.
I’ve never seen anyone more desirable; and shit—that makes me feel guilty. But she and Melissa are different flavors entirely.
“Well?” she breathes, trying not to sound as dejected as she looks.
“I thought we already hooked up…” I start. Any other man would have had her pinned against the wall at this point. But I’m treading new ground, and caution seems like the best approach.
“What, in the car?” She laughs, pulling her hair into a ponytail. “That was foreplay. A half-naked hand job and some kissing—although hot—isn’t sex, Trent, at least not last time I checked.”
She’s so fucking crass. She says exactly what she’s thinking—and honestly—who does that? Still. I like the way my name sounds coming out of her mouth.
I don’t think. I can feel my phone vibrating in intervals in my pants; reminding me of my obligations. But I can’t focus on much of anything but her. I toss the joint to the ground and stomp on it.
What comes next is, at best, primal in nature. I pin her body against the ground and our lips work together—our tongues battling for dominance. I win, taking her bottom lip between my teeth as she moans into me, burying her hands in my hair.
I pull on her shirt, tearing the fabric as I work it over her head. She didn’t bother putting her bra back on. It’s somewhere in my truck. I smile at her, and then, we’re kissing again. She rests one hand on my shoulder and keeps the other tangled in my hair. I palm her breasts—which are perfect, not too big or small—thumbing at the buds of her hard nipples.
I’ve never felt such a rush. She turns so that she’s on top and pins a slender leg on each side of me. There’s a smile on her face. She works on my pants and I help her ease them down a second time. I’m throbbing—but I only get harder when her lips wrap around me.
She swirls her tongue from base to tip, taking her time to explore every vein on my cock, and I swear—if I died right then, I’d go a happy man. I grab a handful of her dark hair, tensing my jaw as I groan.
It’s too much too quick. I pull her back up to me, and she looks confused, but I don’t explain. Instead, I pick her up in one swoop and toss her onto the mattress, pinning her onto it.
My pants and briefs are hanging around my ankles. She reaches for a bottle beside the bed—some kind of liquor I don’t recognize—and takes a long drink, offering it to me. I furrow my brows and shake my head—because really? Everyone has their vices. I’m sure as shit no stranger to that small fact—but it removes me from the moment entirely.
“Hey,” she breathes, stroking my girth in her hands, “what’s wrong?”
I shake it off. “Nothing,” I whisper, kicking off my pants and briefs and allowing her to pull my shirt over my head.
Her eyes are narrow, hooded over with lust. She wraps her arms around me and clumsily knocks over the bottle with her elbow, ignoring the bitter smelling liquid that seeps across the room. I ignore it too, wrapping her legs around my waist and hitching up her skirt.
Without warning, I pull her damp underwear off to the side and ease two fingers inside of her. She moans and hisses through her teeth, digging her nails into my back as I hook my fingers upwards, finding her spot. I add a third and she looses all control, allowing a stream of explicative’s—some in Spanish and some not—to leave her mouth.
I groan as her nails dig deep grooves in my flesh. Her hands are hot and clammy. It stings, but it also adds to the effect. I pull her underwear off for better access, tearing it the process, but the fabric was flimsy anyway. I can’t help but admire her like this—legs spread, face contorted in pleasure. She moans as I kiss my way up her legs, paying close attention to her inner thighs.
“Don’t tease me,” she begs, hitching her legs over my shoulders, “it’s not nice.”
“I never said I was nice,” I whisper against her throbbing clitoris, flicking my tongue against it. I bury my fingers back inside of her—this time three, all at once, and she gyrates against me.
I can still hear my phone vibrating, but I can barely form two connecting thoughts. She tastes so good. There’s no comparing it to anything. I groan as she lifts her hips, begging me not to stop. Her hands are all over me—buried in my hair, digging into my back.
She’s on edge, and it won’t be much longer now…
All the signs are there. The way she clenches her jaw, curls her toes, and pulls at her own erect nipples. I stop just to tease her, but she grabs a handful of my hair even tighter and forces me to continue.
I take my time, working my mouth over all her tender spots, paying close mind to the places that make her pulse jump the most. The sounds that leave her throat are guttural in nature. She locks eyes on me as her release floods through her—
Slowly at first, then all at once.
And it’s all the permission I need. I tear a condom wrapper open with my teeth and slide the latex down my base in one move, angling my body just right above hers. She screams when I enter her, filling her all at once. I pull back, thrusting roughly forward a second time. Then a third…
Fuck.
She’s tight. Too tight. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, biting softly into her flesh. She screams again, but this time it’s pleasure mixed with pain.
“Don’t stop,” she pants, “I’m close.”
I build a rhythm, thrusting forward as she bucks her hips to meet mine. A stream of moans and open-ended curses leave her mouth, and her nails continue their vicious assault on my back.
But I don’t care.
I can feel it approaching and so can she. I pull my face from her throat, watching as her cheeks flush of color and her chest rises and falls. She has her back arched, her lips pu
rsed and slightly parted.
“Come on,” I beg her, grabbing hold of her hips.
And she does.
It’s a rush, the way her body shakes and convulses against mine. I come too, tensing as a deep groan leaves my throat.
And just like that, everything fades into a pleasure-induced haze…
Chapter 12
I wake up with a pounding headache in an empty bed. It takes me a second to register where I am.
“Well good morning,” a voice says from across the room.
Evelyn.
She’s perched in the chair with a pen in her hands and her knees tucked against her chest, wearing my shirt.
“It’s only 1 p.m.,” she says with a laugh, standing up and handing me a plastic cup, “I bought you some coffee from the gas station. I took your truck. I hope you don’t mind…”
I shake my head and thank her, taking a sip. It’s lukewarm, but the dose of caffeine does its job.
“Hey,” I start, pulling on my clothing, “about last night…”
She cocks her head and raises an eyebrow. “The sex, you mean?”
Right. For a second there, I almost forgot how fuckin’ blunt she is.
“Yeah. It was great, but…”
“Oh god,” she says with a laugh, “you’re about to make the obligatory ‘I hope you didn’t take it the wrong way’ speech, aren’t you?”
I rub my neck, flinching when my hand makes contact with one of the claw marks she left in my flesh. “No,” I start, “I just don’t want you getting the wrong—“”
She holds up a hand and points her pen at me. “Idea? Look, Trent, you don’t have to do this. I’m a big girl. Besides, I don’t know if you remember, but I was kind of the one who initiated it.”
“Here,” she says, pulling my shirt off her body and tossing it to me.
I pull it on, hesitating.
There’s a rag thrown haphazardly on the ground over where the liquor spilled, and a new bottle perched in front of her on the table. I watch her pull a tight face as she gulps a mouthful of it down.
I find myself wondering things about her—like why she drinks. Where her bruises come from. Why she lives in such a shit hole.
But I figure that the less we know about each other the better.
“Well…I should go…” I start.
She nods, shrugging her shoulders in that nonchalant way that doesn’t look even remotely forced. I honestly can’t read a single thing from her expression. “Sure, you know where to find me, you know…if you ever want to hook up again.”
Hook up again?
So that’s all it was to her?
“Right.”
I turn for the door and my phone vibrates again. I pull it out this time, just as it goes to voice mail.
It’s Melissa.
She’s been calling and texting me all night. I climb in my truck and slam the door, pressing my phone against my ear with a deep sigh as I call her back.
“Trent?” she says, answering on the first ring.
She sounds frantic; not at all like herself.
“Trent…please come.” She’s sobbing. I can barely understand a word that leaves her mouth. “I need you.”
My heartbeat quickens. I grip the steering wheel, feeling my palms begin to sweat.
“Cain is dead.”
Thank You!
Thank you for purchasing Justify #2. If you enjoyed the first two books in the series and are interested in seeing how everything pans out, please leave me a review on Amazon to let me know your thoughts. I love keeping my readers happy!
Justify – Kimball Brothers #3 (Macon) and #4 (Trent), will be available soon in the kindle store, for more information and to chat with me personally, add me on Facebook! www.facebook.com/authoraubreywatts
You may also email me at [email protected]
Thank you for everything,
Aubrey
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About the Author
Aubrey Watts has been an avid reader of contemporary romance novels since she was a teenager. Justify is Aubrey’s first book and the introduction to her Kimball brothers series, however—it is not her first foray into writing; she’s been doing that since she was old enough to pick up a pencil!
Aubrey, a Rhode Island native, cherishes her family and friends and believes whole-heartedly in the release that a good book has to offer.