Rough Hand (Rock Bridge Ruffians, Book One)

by Olivia Chase

  “My bookshelves in my room are overflowing,” he says with a laugh. “No one would expect it, but I’m a total nerd. I usually unwind by reading at night.”

  “What are you reading about now?”

  “The cosmos.” He sips his scotch and gives a satisfied sigh. “This is really good shit. I normally don’t splurge on this. Thank you.”

  I wipe my mouth with the napkin and smile. “Well, dinner was unbelievably good.” Simple, but flavorful—pork chops, asparagus, baked potato, and warm dinner rolls. “I’m stuffed.” I pat my belly.

  “That makes me happy,” he says with a grin and a wink. He picks up our plates and pops them in the dishwasher, then tops off my drink.

  “This is it for me,” I say, laughing. “I gotta drive home later.”

  He tugs me out of my chair and pulls me flush to his body. “But…not for a while, right?” Oh God, the heat in his eyes, the heat pouring off his body, the heat in his voice, they’re making my blood feel like lava in my veins.

  I shake my head.

  We move over to the couch, and I take a few more sips of scotch. I’m feeling languid now, relaxed, and yet also brewing with anticipation. My pussy is starting to pulse with every stroke he makes on my thigh.

  He leans over and nuzzles my neck. “You smell so fucking good.”

  I sigh, arch under his touch. “God, I love your mouth on me.”

  “Come on,” he says. “You haven’t even seen the rest of the house yet.”

  My heart gives an erratic thump. I swallow. I came here tonight knowing this could happen, hoping it would happen.

  And then we’re moving down the hallway toward his dark bedroom, and he has me through the door and my back is on the bed and he’s on top of me. I can’t see him much except through the glow of the living room light, casting a pale haze on his skin. I writhe against his welcome weight, our hands groping, our mouths sliding with wet, sexy kisses everywhere we can reach.

  My heart is thumping hard and I imagine he can feel it pounding through my chest. My breasts are tight, aching.

  Levi grabs my dress by the hem and tugs it up and over, and he sighs when he sees my breasts. “So fucking beautiful.” Then he captures my nipple in his mouth, and my pussy spasms.

  I claw at his shirt buttons, popping them off one at a time, and then push it off his shoulders and down his back, gripping his bare skin, reveling in the sizzling heat of his body.

  “I need to be inside you,” he gasps against my breast. His tongue flicks the rigid tip, and I moan.

  “Yes, please,” I beg.

  He moves for a moment to dig into his bedside table. Then his pants are off, his boxer briefs, and I hear the rip of a condom foil. My panties are stripped off and now I’m bare to him, completely naked in more than a physical way.

  My thighs are trembling with my need as he settles back between my legs. His muscles are strong, lean, and he nudges me wider, spreading my pussy to welcome his cock in.

  The head of his dick is at my slick entrance, and Levi touches me everywhere, licks my flesh, makes my head spin and my body throb for him. And then he’s inside me and I’m gasping with pleasure because fuck, I’m so tight and he’s so big and he fills me in a way I’ve never felt before.

  Levi groans against my hair, withdraws and then pushes inside me again, and the stroke against my inner walls is exquisite. I wrap my legs around him, encouraging him to go deeper. I need him as deep inside me as he can go. Dig my nails into his back, wanting to feel his fire.

  That earns me a growl. Levi leans down and takes my collarbone in his teeth, which steals my breath in the best way. The pain centers me, makes me focus on my body, on him thrusting in and out, on the glide of our skin against each other, the slickness of building sweat, the pants of our breaths.

  I am nothing but sensations in this moment, flying toward the edge of something beautiful and intense and wholly overwhelming. My clit is throbbing, my pulse echoing through my pussy and radiating to my pelvis.

  “Fuck yes,” he says, releasing my collarbone and biting my breasts all over.

  My pussy grows wetter, soaking his cock. Levi’s pacing becomes more frantic, uneven, as our arousal stirs us toward orgasm.

  “I fucking need you to come for me,” he says, pulling up to look into my eyes. The intensity in there blows my mind, and I can’t stop staring at him. “I want you to come all over my cock.” He reaches down and pinches my nipple, and I gasp at the sharp flare of pain, which is almost too much, but oh God, my cunt is greedy and growing hotter and I’m so close…

  Now he’s slamming into me as if our lives depend on it, as if he has no other intent on earth than to make me come. His cock is rubbing my G-spot, and I’m there, I’m there, and then I’m flying, shaking, blind and overcome by the riot of light and electricity flooding my veins from head to toe.

  “God, yes, baby,” he says, grabbing my ass and pushing himself as deep inside me as he can go. His breath is staggered, and he sounds like he’s right there, too.

  So I tilt my pelvis to give him deeper access. “Fuck me harder,” I beg him. “Please.” The last tendrils of my orgasm are still teasing my pussy, and I squeeze him with my inner walls.

  “Oh God, I’m gonna come,” he says, leaning his forehead against mine and drilling my pussy hard. Then he releases an animalistic growl, his hands biting my flesh so hard I’m sure I’m going to have bruises, and his cock is pulsing inside me.

  I close my eyes and let myself just feel, just breathe, just taste and touch and smell. My body is vibrating with the intensity of what just happened.

  Finally, Levi’s limbs relax, and he slowly lowers himself onto me, kissing my damp brow. He reaches up to wipe a strand of hair away. “Fuck. Holy fuck.”

  I give a weak laugh and wrap my arms around him as we roll to our sides and he pulls out of me. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was gonna say.” I want to lie here forever, tangled in his arms, feeling like my world has a spot of beauty and hope. I haven’t felt this peaceful and relaxed in months. A small chuckle escapes me.

  “What’s so funny?” he drawls. I can tell he’s feeling as drowsy and chill as I am.

  “Just that when I first met you, this is hardly how I expected things to go.”

  “Same.” He leans up on one elbow to look down at me. Though it’s dark in here, I can see highlights on his skin, the way his eyes are locked on mine like I’m the only woman in the world. It steals my breath. “You were right when you said you didn’t mind getting dirty.”

  I swat his arm. “You’re wicked.”

  “I’d like to see how wicked you can get.” His mouth is against my throat, his teeth biting me, and I’m arching under his touch again.

  I didn’t think it was possible, but my pussy is getting wetter. Arrows of desire shoot straight to my pelvis. “Oh God,” I whisper.

  Levi rolls back in top of me, strips off his old condom, then grabs a fresh foil. The desire in his eyes is hungry, purposeful. “Let’s see if we can go two for two.”

  I pull into my driveway, sore and satisfied in a way I’ve never felt before. I shut off the engine and just sit there for a moment, savoring the memory of his hands and mouth branding my skin.

  We had sex three times. It was insane. I had no idea a guy could have that much stamina…or want me that badly.

  But Levi proved to be insatiable, making me come several times before he came again.

  I head into the house, knowing I’m probably wearing a stupid grin and not caring. For one night, I want to revel in happiness and not think about anything bad.

  I open the door. Surprisingly, Jenna’s on the couch, watching TV. We don’t have cable, but I got an Apple TV, so she’s watching some show on Netflix.

  She looks up at me, and her eyebrow rises in a knowing quirk. “I’m guessing your date went well,” she says slowly. She grins. “Really well, in fact. Your hair is messy.”

  The girls know I’m seeing someone, but I haven’t gone into much d
etails. I flush and pat my hair down. Shit. I didn’t think to look in a mirror before I came inside. I was too busy reliving every second of tonight. “Um. Well, how was your evening?”

  “Fine. Nothing much around here.”

  “Morgan home yet?” I drop my purse on the end table and head into the kitchen to get a soda from the fridge. I do a mental inventory of the groceries we’re low on. Time to stock back up.

  It feels so good to be able to do so without freaking out about how much it costs. The money I’m making at the shop is more than enough to keep us fed and clothed and housed. Thank God.

  “No, she’s still out, I guess.”

  I crack open a can of Coke and take a seat next to Jenna. I recognize the movie. “The Princess Bride. Good choice.”

  Jenna’s quiet at first while we watch side by side, but once I start throwing out one-liners, she begins to chime in too, and soon we’re laughing. How long has it been since I’ve seen her smile?

  I should spend more time with her. She’s becoming far too withdrawn. It’s not good for her to be so isolated from people. I’m not going to push her on anything tonight, though. We both just need some relaxation time with each other. No pressure, no stress, no haunting past. Just two sisters. The way it should have been.

  The front door flies open, and Morgan’s sharp laugh echoes in the house. “Bye!” she says over her shoulder, waving at someone. She overshoots her turn and whips around into the house, then chortles with laughter. “Oh shit, whoops!”

  I stand up and go to her, my lungs tight. She’s definitely not acting like her normal self. She’s acting… “Are you drunk?” I ask as calmly as I can.

  She gives me a bleary look, her eyes rimmed in red, her breath reeking of beer. “No. I’m just buzzed.” That sets her off laughing. She claps hands over her mouth.

  “What the hell? Are you shitting me? Who were you hanging out with?”

  Morgan sashays past me and plops beside Jenna, who’s just quietly watching us. “This guy I’m seeing, Dylan. He’s actually really cool. He knows, like, everyone in school and he’s also got the best sense of humor. Seriously, he could be a comedian. You’d love him, Alexa.”

  “Yeah, he’s cool enough to get you wasted and then just drop you off at home without bothering to meet us,” I reply, crossing my arms. The lightness I felt earlier is gone now. “This isn’t acceptable, Morgan. You know that.”

  She crosses one leg over the other, her high heel dangling off her toe. Her hair is mussed too, her lipstick a little smeared. My stomach is sinking further.

  “I should be able to do what I want. I’m almost eighteen,” she mutters.

  “And yet, you’re not,” I retort. Anger is threading in my voice. “You’re grounded. You know better than to come home in this kind of state. What are you thinking, going out and partying like this? Who the hell kind of people are you hanging out with? This Dylan guy seems like bad news to me.”

  She kicks off her shoes and stands, scoffing, planting her hands on her hips. “Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t ground me. You’re not my—” She stops and seems to sober up for a minute.

  The room goes dead silent with words unsaid. By unspoken agreement, none of us have really talked about what happened since we came home that day and found swarms of police cars in our driveway. We’ve been trying to leave all that behind.

  Ignore, ignore, ignore.

  I swallow. “No, I’m not Mom. Or Dad.” It hurts me to even speak those words, but I make myself say them anyway. “I am, however, the person trying to take care of you the best I can.”

  “Well, you can do it better by staying out of my damn business and letting me live my life,” Morgan says in a sudden burst of anger. Her eyes narrow. “This is bullshit, Alexa. I left my whole life behind and moved here for the fresh start you insisted we needed, and now you’re trying to keep me miserable and lonely and control my life.”

  “I’m not controlling your life!” I tell her.

  God, I want to scream with frustration. Where the hell is all this attitude coming from? This isn’t her. “Look, maybe we need to get family counseling—”

  “Oh, hell no,” she says with a bitter laugh. “I don’t want to talk to anyone else about how our mom went crazy and shot our dad, then herself.”

  “Morgan,” Jenna says in a warning tone from the couch.

  But our sister ignores her. She shoves past me and stomps back into her room, slamming the door.

  Well, that went horribly. Ugh.

  I just stand there, reeling. I’m so ill prepared for this. What made me think I could parent them when I’ve never had any experience raising kids? Doubt is flooding me now, and I’m realizing how in over my head I am.

  “She’s just upset,” Jenna says. “Give her time.”

  “I’m doing a shitty job of this, aren’t I,” I say in a broken whisper.

  Jenna gets up and hugs me, and I wrap my arms around her, trying not to give in to the tears threatening to fall. “None of us thought things would turn out this way,” she says when she pulls back. “We’re all trying to cope. You’re doing a good job.”

  And yet, I look at her and I see dark shadows under her eyes. Her face is even more gaunt than when we moved here. She isn’t eating, isn’t talking to anyone.

  I don’t know how to do this. I’m failing Dad. I’m failing my sisters.

  “I think I’m gonna go to bed,” Jenna says. “I’m tired.”

  I give a quick nod, trying to hide my agony, and she clicks off the TV and leaves the room.

  Leaves me alone to drown in my fears that just won’t let me go.

  Levi

  “Whatcha want, good lookin’?” Aunt Sylvia asks me, a broad smile on her face. She looks over at Alexa. “I see you brought that pretty girl back with you. You must be doing something right if she hasn’t dumped your ass yet.”

  Alexa flushes and looks down at the menu; I laugh. Aunt Sylvia is absurdly good at putting people in their place. She keeps me humble…along with most all her customers. And yet we keep coming back for more. She makes the best fucking food in town.

  “I don’t think it’s me,” I tell her in a mock whisper. “She’s probably sticking with me so I’d bring her back to have more of your amazing key lime pie.”

  “Well, shit, of course she wanted more. I’ll bring you two a couple of slices.” She saunters off, and Alexa swats my arm.

  “You’re rotten,” she says.

  I turn her hand over and kiss the inside of her wrist, earning me a delicate shudder. God, I love touching her. Arousing her. I can’t get enough of her taste, her smell, her responsiveness. “You love my rottenness,” I say with an arrogant grin. “I think you crave it, even.”

  “You’re so sure you know me,” she says archly, withdrawing her hand from my grip. But I know her glare isn’t serious. I’ve learned to sense her moods—she’s actually simple in an amazing way, once you get to know her. She isn’t good at hiding her emotions, despite what I first thought.

  “I don’t know everything about you, of course, but I’ve seen enough to want to know more,” I admit with more truth than I even intended. Somehow I can’t seem to help but be real with her. My damn walls are crumbling bit by bit every day, despite my efforts to keep them shored up.

  Her mock glare fades, and she offers me a sweet smile that clenches my heart. “Just when I think I know what you’re going to say, you tell me something sweet and endearing that…” She gives a bashful shrug.

  “That what?” I admit, I’m kind of nervous to hear whatever she wants to tell me. I’m already struggling to keep my heart in check.

  I can devour her body, I can savor her wit, but I can’t let myself fall in love with her. To do so would break me beyond repair.

  “That makes me smile,” she finishes just as Aunt Sylvia comes over and gives us our pie. We dig in with gusto.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. I dig it out and check to see who’s texting me. When I spot the na
me and number on my caller ID, my good spirits sink. Fuck. What the hell does he want?

  “What’s wrong?” Alexa asks me, putting down her fork.

  “Why do you think something’s wrong?” I stuff my phone back in my pocket.

  “Because you glared at your cell like you want to punch someone through it,” she says with a laugh. “So I was wondering if everything was okay.”

  “It’s fine,” I say tightly. I don’t really want to open up about Uncle Jack. I don’t want to think about him. And I sure as fuck don’t want to answer any texts or phone calls from the asshole. He doesn’t deserve one extra second of my time or attention.

  She gives a quick nod and turns her attention to her plate. “Okay, sorry for prying.” Her voice is quiet.

  Fuck. I rake my hand through my hair. Now I feel like an asshole. “It’s my uncle,” I tell her. “We had a…kind of…shitty relationship as I grew up.”

  She remains quiet but looks up at me, patiently waiting for me to say my piece.

  I exhale hard and push my half-eaten pie away. “I lived with him for a while when I was a kid. He was a hard man to be around. Strict. Punishing. Cold.” The words come out of me clipped. “I don’t have any interest in talking to him or hearing whatever the hell he has to say to me now.”

  I fucking hate that I’m still feeling so antagonistic about him. I wish he didn’t rattle me. I wish that I had zero feelings about all of it.

  But it’s hard when I remember how much he pushed me away. I was a scared kid who found his mom dead in the kitchen after she killed herself. I needed more than I got from the person who took me in and raised me afterwards.

  I got stuck with someone who didn’t want me around. Who made sure I felt like a burden, like dead weight, who added insult to injury. Which is why after I turned seventeen, I got the fuck out of his house and began supporting myself. Years passed without us speaking, but now out of nowhere, he’s suddenly blowing up my phone.

  I don’t know why he’s trying to get in touch and I don’t give a fuck.