Pain & Redemption

by Kat Kenyon

  I stare into his jade eyes, puckering to give my best mean face. “I’m gonna come over this table and throat punch you, you food-thieving ape. If…and I mean if, I have leftover chicken it goes to him.” I throw a thumb to Tyler. “If he doesn’t want it, I’ll offer. Otherwise, keep your already-stole-my-pickle-today grubby eyes away from my plate!”

  Bay pouts for a moment then smiles and looks at Tyler. “You’re not gonna want that chicken, are you, man?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Tyler Blackman

  We’re partying with the team tonight. The Carson is throwing a blowout for New Year’s Eve, and several other teams are invited, so it’s going to be massive.

  I have to drop by my room to grab clothes and when I’m walking out, I catch sight of Shay. It’s been a while and she knows to avoid me. When she sees me, she drops her eyes and walks quietly around me, which works. What doesn’t work for me, is her being on my floor.

  I turn and look at her. I feel like I’m on repeat and wonder if this is what it felt like for Rayne. “What are you doing up here?”

  “I’m meeting Laz.”

  Laz’s a basketball player at the end of the hall, and as long as she has a reason apart from me and my team to be up here, I don’t care what she does. Nodding, I turn to head out.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me why?” she calls from behind me.

  “Nope. Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be anywhere near my fucking room.”

  “Jesus, really, Tyler?”

  That stops me. Not her rage, or the hurt underlying it. The only person here who calls me that, except for my mom, is Rayne, and I like it that way. Turning to look at the person who willfully forced herself into my life, I lack sympathy.

  “Really. I never lied. You pushed. You knew I didn’t want you. I own my fuckup. Do you? Do you ever? I know I’m a work in progress, but do you care that you manipulate people and they get hurt? Are you trying to do better? Or do you still believe you’re a fully actualized woman, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean? So yeah, Shay, really. You want a better reception, prove you’re a better person.”

  There were changes I had to make internally to be with Rayne. Life is better, easier, now that I’ve stopped trying to be perfect for Dad and just try to be a better man for her. In fact, that the tears in Shay’s eyes don’t touch me proves I’m anything but perfect. And I’m finally good with that.

  When I get to Rayne’s room, I feel good. And it only gets better when I see my girlfriend. Absolute showstopper. Her ridiculous black leather shorts and matching jacket Tate gave her accentuate her ass and tits. Black, knee-high boots make her legs look like they go on forever, and show off miles of bare skin.

  She doesn’t wear this kind of overtly sexual stuff normally, and the bedroom hair and red lips are a little vampy runway, making me want to strip her down to find out what she’s wearing underneath.

  Tate and Tegs are lounging on a futon snacking when I grab her and drag her behind me, tossing my bag on the bedroom floor and slamming the door behind us.

  Grabbing her hips and pulling her to me, I growl at her, blood streaming from my brain south.

  “Frisky?” She laughs, as she hooks her slim fingers in my jeans, nails dragging against my skin.

  “I wanna see what’s hidden under these little shorts.”

  Pink tongue licks her lip. “Not much.”

  “I don’t doubt it. There isn’t much room, that’s why I wanna check it out.” I slide my hands around the small of her back and down the curve of her ass. As soon as she shivers, I grab her, lifting so she can wrap her legs around me.

  “That would defeat all the effort I went through to get ready.” She pouts as she slings her arms around my neck. Her voice is husky as we watch each other. “I wanted to look good for you. Now you want to go and ruin it?” She swallows her words as I bite her.

  I can hear Tate yelling at me through the door not to make us late, but I don’t care. I care about spending this night pouring myself into the woman rubbing herself against me. Apparently, Tegan doesn’t either, because I hear him threaten to strip her too.

  “Dirty boys,” Rayne whispers in my ear, licking my lobe softly, then delivering a stinging bite. My cock gets rock-hard, pressing against the denim. We aren’t going anywhere.

  Slamming her back into the door, I roll against her core. Tate’s yelling, but Rayne started this and now I want a taste. I need one.

  Dropping her legs, I curl down, bite her neck behind her ear, and growl. “Turn around.”

  Spinning her around, her chest hits the door, pressed hard by my hips, and I run my hands down her slim arms to her tiny waist, leaving behind a trail of heat. I reach around her front, smooth skin quivering under my hands. Unsnapped, zipper sliding down, I slip her shorts down her hips. A tiny G-string comes down with them.

  In seconds, I have her lower half bare as she steps out of the leather and lace, and the silk of her ass under my tongue tastes like sex.

  Hard-earned muscle and a set of divots get nipped and bitten while I pull my hands up the outside of the boots, to the front of her knees, then curl them to the inside of her thighs.

  Silk.

  I need her coming on my tongue.

  Pulling us back, I press on her spine between her shoulder blades. Rolling down, the line of her back softens, and she braces herself against the door. The heated look thrown over her shoulder sends the energy spiking through me, and I’m not thinking anymore.

  The black leather jacket leaves her pale skin looking like a beacon begging for attention. Slapping the high, tight cheeks, the pink that rises nearly makes me come.

  We like this.

  I kick her legs apart and drop to my knees. Slapping each cheek again gets an inhale and quiver, earning a bite of hot, pink skin.

  Bite, lick, and answering moan, send chills down my spine. Sucking on her skin, I try to raise a mark, then bite hard enough that she’ll know I was there.

  Her body rolls and she tilts her hips to me. Stroking a finger through her pink folds, she’s wet and burning hot, and I take a long lick. Spicy saturation has my dick punching to get out. I want her to scream for me, and I fuck her with my tongue, gripping first her ass, then stretching her with my fingers, finding her G-spot. Sucking her clit until she begs me to fuck her, I feel her quake, and when she does, I stand and unzip myself.

  Dazed and shaking in her boots, she’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Tyler.” The husky sound pierces my brain. Reaching forward, I wrap her hair around my fist, then use it to grip low on her throat. Her pulse flutters under my fingers, breaths sawing in and out of her chest.

  A hand reaches back and rakes my thigh, and our gasps fill the room, my length bouncing against her back. Spreading my legs wide, my cock slides down her backside until I can line up with her. Gripping my dick, I tap against her pussy, earning shivers. I grip her hip as I thrust inside, wet heat clamping down. A cry tears from her as she arches back.

  I’m full of the sensation of her. She just gets better every time. “Fuck, too good.”

  My hips act on their own, the force almost lifting her off the ground. Wrapping an arm around her small hips, I pull back on her throat, strands of hair tickling my skin. Back to front, my forearm between her breasts, steadying her against my thrusts, I can kiss her cheek, bite her jaw.

  “Don’t stop.” Her voice is thready, her hands wrapping behind to score my skin.

  Black boots hook around the back of my knees, and I slam her up and down my cock until I feel the flutter of her inner walls.

  Grabbing her jawline, I tilt her back, manhandling her as she comes, exploding like a firecracker.

  Sliding my hand up her shirt, I pinch her nipple as I press us into the door over and over. Her arms brace, fingers scratching against the smooth surface, her legs flex against mine, raising and lowering on my cock.

  Releasing her hair as my orgasm races forward, I drop my hand to squeeze h
er swollen clit. Her body bucks, reacting to the invasion of my frantic hips and the biting sting of her clit and nipple being worked over by my fingers.

  “Fuck, oh God fuck! Tyler!”

  She stiffens and shatters in my arms. Long ripples of her pleasure squeeze me as I come, her hand slapping the door. I want to fucking roar so everyone can hear.

  Latching on to my fading mark, I suck and bite at her skin as we crash against the door with a thump. Taking a few moments to breathe, but unwilling to pull away, I squeeze her tight and back up to sit us on her bed. She straddles my thighs; her back to my front as my hand continues softly stroking her as she pulses around me, drawing out our satisfaction.

  When we finally settle, she rolls her head toward me dreamily and smiles. Her hands reach back and nails scratch against my ass, the stretch popping her chest as she leans into mine.

  “You marked me again.”

  Nuzzling into the mark and giving it a good lick, I smile against her skin. “Yes.”

  “On purpose.”

  I give her a huffing laugh. “Yes.”

  Her hips roll leisurely on my lap, my cock still hot inside her. “Why?”

  “You know why,” I say, giving her a peck on the cheek.

  Her brilliant smile turns on me and my chest feels like it’s going to burst. “Mine,” she breathes out.

  I nod. “Mine.”

  “Can I do the same?”

  Her amusement is music to my ears, and the idea of wearing any kind of mark she wants makes me happy.

  “Anytime, anywhere you like.”

  She smiles happily, turns around and moves in for a kiss. She tastes of mint and home; I don’t care if she leaves a million red lip prints. “Can we stay here?” she asks.

  “Yes. But I don’t think Tate will let us stay in silence.”

  “Shit.”

  We both look at each other and start to laugh. We weren’t quiet, forgetting we weren’t alone. We’ve had the space to ourselves for over a week and Tate’s return adds a new factor to our recent pattern of exploration.

  “Shiiit!” We both laugh together.

  “No shit, you two,” Tate says from the door. “You two are fucking loud!”

  “We were fucking and we are loud. And we are fucking loud because we forgot you were here!” I yell at the door.

  “My man!” Tegan yells at the door in solidarity. I can always count on him to understand how much I don’t care. He gets it.

  “No, not my man,” Tate scoffs, moving away from the door.

  “Finish up and we’ll head out,” he calls as Tate giggles.

  A lick and bite on my neck get my attention. I never fully softened, and her touch starts the blood pumping again.

  “That’s right, finish me.” Rayne’s seductive whisper makes my eyes practically roll to the back of my head.

  “Tegs, I’m gonna do that right now.”

  I hear him laugh and offer a follow-up congratulations, accompanied by Tate’s door slamming.

  Moving my attention back to the demanding woman in my arms, I plan to give it to her as long as she wants. I bite her lower lip and release it, drowning in the depths of her blue eyes. My inhale brings the subtle vanilla and orange of her skin and the musky smell of sex.

  “You want it slow or fast baby?”

  “I want what you just did. Again.”

  That I can do. And we do.

  January

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Rayne Mathews

  Last night was mind-blowing. All my hot zones are still sensitive and my muscles ache. We laughed, danced, and celebrated the turn of the year surrounded by friends at the Carson.

  I was with the man who loves me and people who care about me, and I’m happy, even when I wake up too damn early on New Year’s Day after a night of drinking and fucking, to meet Leslie and her sister.

  “Time to get up.”

  “Nooooo,” he says, trying to pull me back underneath him. No matter how much sleep we have, this is what he does. Throwing his tree-trunk leg over mine, he pins me to the bed. One hazel eye looks at me from under messy hair.

  “You gotta get up,” I say, cocking my head at him.

  His lips puff out as he blows out a blast of air. He knows what I know. We have to get up. His mom will be at the door in about twenty minutes. If she’s early, we don’t want to be naked. His normal, “just another five minutes” isn’t going to work.

  “I gotta get up,” he huffs.

  “Yep.”

  He takes a big breath and hugs me. “Love you.”

  He kisses me softly, the drifting whisper making me glow inside, feeling unreal and overwhelming. His smile is sleepy, but the old stress that used to mar these moments hasn’t returned. He’s solid.

  He hugs me again. “We gotta get up.”

  “Yes.” I giggle against his shoulder. “It’s your mom. More importantly, you said your aunt’s a ballbuster. And they’re your balls.” Nipping his chin, I let his stubble scratch my skin before I add, “And I’d like to keep those intact.”

  Laughing, we both roll out of bed, dehydrated and hungry, and shower at lightning speed. Our old energy is mixed with a new promise, and it’s easy to return his smiles. We’re dressed and ready to go in fifteen minutes. We know how to move around each other, and we’re at the door when his mom gets there.

  Leslie claps her hands together. “Good, you guys are ready.”

  She’s outfitted in skinny jeans and a black jacket. Jeans or not, she looks classy.

  “Where is Aunt Margot?” he asks, grasping my hand and pulling it up to hold his bicep.

  “In the car, and we’re parked where we shouldn’t be, so move!” Laughing, she’s already halfway down the hall, waving for us to get moving.

  Running to catch up, we laugh all the way down the elevator and to the car. Tyler opens the door and guides me in, giving me a kiss before running around to climb in the other side, opening the door for his mom.

  Leslie slides into the driver side and turns to me. “Rayne, this is my sister, Margot. Margot, this is Rayne.”

  Reaching forward to shake her hand, I say, “Nice to meet you. I know Tyler’s happy you guys could make it.”

  Raking a dismissive look over me, she holds up a limp wrist and murmurs something under her breath. Dressed in cashmere, with pearls and diamonds on her ears and neck, Margot’s as beautiful as Leslie, but her eyes are colder. Everything about her screams money, but not the fun kind. She reminds me of Gramps.

  Tyler gets in and drops a hand on her shoulder. “Happy New Year!”

  Her formal, affected accent says as much as her stiff body language. “You too, dear.”

  Leslie takes us to a ritzy restaurant with a breakfast buffet that looks like it was made for a king. When we take our seats, Margot starts discussing her expectations for the game, pretending I’m not there. She seems to think Tyler will be able to talk to her and take care of her. She talks about plans for the family for the day and night and doesn’t include me. And considering her attitude, I’m glad.

  Tyler and I decided I go where he goes for as much of the day as possible. Even as his mom and aunt chat, his hand laces with mine, unconsciously squeezing, seeking support.

  Leaning against his shoulder, I whisper, “I love you.”

  I can almost see it wrap around him physically, releasing some of the tension. When I see Leslie wink at me, I realize she knows and appreciates it.

  When we’re leaving, Leslie’s phone rings. She answers it right away, continuing to walk with us to the car, phone pressed to her ear. As we close the doors, she laughs and hands the phone to Tyler, who frowns in confusion.

  “Hey, Dad, I just handed you to Tyler.”

  An older male voice comes from the speakerphone. “My boy! Happy New Year!”

  “You too, Granddad. How’s it going?”

  Margot mumbles something from the front seat as his grandfather chuckles.

  “I can’t complain.” He coughs
, his voice getting apologetic. “Tyler, I’m so sorry I won’t make it to the game. There’s really no excuse, but I just can’t get out of the trip to London.”

  He leans back into the leather and smiles at the phone in his hand. “I understand. You’re a titan of industry, a ballgame really isn’t on your normal schedule.”

  His granddad grunts. “Maybe not, but you are. You can expect me to be around more.”

  Tyler’s smile softens, and his fingers reach for mine. “Love you, Granddad.”

  “I love you, too. If you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me, text me, send up a smoke signal. I’ll take care of it.”

  Another disgruntled sound comes from the front seat where Leslie pushes her sister lightly and says something so quietly I can’t hear it over Tyler and his grandfather.

  He gives me a squeeze, and kisses my temple, dragging my attention back to his conversation. “I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

  “It’ll happen soon. I’m looking forward to it. Now hand me back to your mom.”

  When Leslie turns back to grab it, she’s glaring at her sister. After she says goodbye and hangs up the phone, Margot huffs.

  “What?” Leslie asks her.

  “Do you really think he has time to come to some little ball game? It’s ridiculous how hard he’s trying.”

  The air thickens, causing a sudden spike of anxiety from the man at my side. Tyler’s blank look at Margot’s dark hair, makes him seem lost.

  “Then why the hell are you here if it’s ridiculous to come to Tyler’s game?”

  The two sisters glare at each other, and Margot turns to the window without answering, so stiff she looks brittle.

  I want to rip her throat out.

  This is why it’s clear I’m his safe place to fall back on when the madness and machinations of his family push him too hard. His dad’s a master at beating him up, and his mom’s family is a pack of vultures, picking over every weakness, so he needs me to take away some of the stress.

  • • • •

  We spend a tense afternoon with his family, and it’s awkward and exhausting for us both. Nothing seems to get rid of the hostility that appeared in the car, and the bitch never apologized to Tyler. By the time we plead mercy, bailing out of dinner with them, we’re dragging ourselves to my room.