Bad Habit: Downey Brothers Series

by Mara Leigh

  My feet barely made contact with the floor as I staggered under his control toward our room, like a limp doll.

  As soon as we got inside, he lifted me and pressed me back against the door. His lips crushed mine as his hardness ground against my private parts in a way that was almost as good as having him inside me. I moaned as I found a new way to move against him, increasing the friction between our sex parts.

  He pulled back from the kiss and carried me across the living area to the window. If this was him trying to prove he was bad, it wasn’t working. Or at least he wasn’t proving he was bad for me.

  My skin tingled all over, and my insides ached to have him inside me. Even one finger would do. The pinky. Anything. Even if we were in back in the elevator, or in public, I’d need part of his body inside me.

  Setting me down, he turned me abruptly to face the window. I pressed my hands against the glass as he drew down the zipper at the back of my sparkly gown. As he pushed down on the straps, I dropped my arms to help him rid my body of the unnecessary garment.

  The dress pooled around my feet as I heard him undo his belt and unzip his fly, and then his hands gripped my breasts over the silky bra, squeezing so hard it was on the edge of painful. Then it did turn painful for a few seconds as he pushed my bra’s underwires up and over my breasts, leaving the undergarment hanging there as he took my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and twisted.

  I gasped.

  “Does that hurt?” He growled in my ear.

  “A bit.”

  “Good.” He did it again, and I moaned.

  His hands dropped to my hips, and he tugged my panties down, lifting one of my shoes to release the garment, and then roughly forced my legs wider.

  He bent me forward, with one hand on my neck and the other wrapped around my waist, and tugged back my hips. I braced my hands on the glass to keep my balance.

  Over his heavy breaths and my own, I heard the rustling of fabric and the clank of his belt on the floor as he undressed. Anticipation throbbed inside me. Then, without warning, he grasped my hips and pushed deep inside me.

  I cried out at the sudden intrusion that filled me beyond capacity, hitting hard with splitting pain. He paused, staying still inside me, his breaths hard and fast as his hands and penis held me captive in a three-point hold at my neck, waist and vagina.

  “I’ve taken you easy so far.” His voice was a threatening growl, and I tried to look over my shoulder to see him but couldn’t.

  “This time I’ll show you how I like to fuck. I’ll make you see you were wrong to love me. I’ll prove that you don’t even know me.”

  “Mac—”

  My words were cut off as the hand on my neck moved to cover my mouth, and then his hips began to thrust, driving hard and deep.

  The penetration, which was at first painful, now felt welcome, so welcome, and he drove so quickly it was a wonder to me that anyone’s body could move like that. Surely he was some kind of machine. A machine designed to give me pleasure. Intense pleasure. Pleasure like I’d never known was possible.

  Parting my lips, I licked his palm, dancing over the salty skin and mimicking kissing.

  His hand moved from my lips and slid down to grab one of my breasts, his palm damp from my saliva. He squeezed, tightening in time with his unrelenting thrusts from behind.

  Everything between my legs had heated, my insides were on fire, as if every ounce of blood, every nerve in my body was now concentrated in one area, working to absorb his thrusts, to maintain contact with his penis as it drove inside me and his testicles rudely slapped my bottom.

  Eventually, he slowed, and relief flooded through me. I’d finally be able to turn and look into his eyes, something I valued more than life at the moment.

  But as he straightened me at the waist, he forced me forward, and my breasts and my belly squished against the glass so I had to twist my head to the side. He tugged my hips and my back arched as his erection continued to impale me.

  One of his hands moved to the glass beside me as the other arm pressed against my upper back, trapping me there.

  He started to thrust again, this time more slowly, but each drive was hard. Each time he nearly pulled out and then pushed into me with such force I feared we’d break through the glass.

  “This…” He thrust hard. “Is how…” He pulled out, then drove again. “I fuck you.” He pulled out and thrust again, so deep I felt like he’d struck the glass through my belly.

  His lips moved near my ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk.” He thrust a few more hard times. “I’m going to tear you in two. I’m going to use your body until you can’t move.”

  I already couldn’t move. I could barely breathe from the pressure he was putting on my chest as he held me pinned against the window.

  For the first time, I felt frightened.

  Was Mac right? Was I simply naive? Had I misinterpreted everything he’d done to this point? Had I been wrong to trust him?

  Living up to his promise, he pounded into me unrelentingly, forcefully stealing my breath and my freedom.

  It seemed he wanted to punish my body, using his as a weapon.

  Punish me for what? For loving him? Tears stung my eyes and tightened my throat.

  It wasn’t working. I still loved him. I knew my feelings were true. But I had started to doubt his feelings for me.

  How could I judge, with my limited experience, what a man was feeling in his heart?

  “Mac… Please…” My voice was weak, barely audible. “You’re hurting—”

  He pulled out quickly.

  My legs crumpled, and I slid down the window into a crouch, trying to catch my breath as it fogged the window beside me.

  My insides ached like he was still inside even though I knew he wasn’t. When I caught my breath, I turned to the side.

  Mac was slumped over the arm of the sofa, his chest heaving, sweat trailing down his back and his buttocks. His back muscles flexed, creating undulating shapes as he stood nearly still, as if his back was a being unto its own, alive, aware of me standing behind it, even if Mac himself wasn’t.

  I softly slid my hand onto his back, running up the side where it angled outward like a triangle to join his shoulder. His breath hitched at my touch, but he didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge my touch or my presence.

  “Are you okay?” I asked softly.

  “Me?” He turned, and the look on his face jabbed into my heart. He was in anguish. Not in tears, but clearly fighting dark emotions twisting inside him.

  His hand lifted to cup my cheek. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  I shook my head.

  He pulled me into his arms, enveloping my body with his and encasing me in his heat and sweat. I inhaled his scent, reveling in the comfort of being in his arms, feeling his body next to mine, hearing his heart thud as I pressed my ear against his chest.

  We dropped to the sofa, me on his lap, and he stroked my back, my hair, and I clung to him, never wanting to let him go.

  “I’ve never done that before. Hurt someone… I’m such a shit.”

  “You’re not a shit.” The word felt strange on my tongue.

  “I didn’t even use a fucking condom.”

  “Oh.” I tensed, trying to remember all the reasons that wasn’t smart.

  “I’m clean,” he said. “I’m sure you are, but what if you get pregnant?”

  “That could happen?” Wonder at that concept flowed through me. What if Mac and I made a baby? I looked up into his eyes.

  “I didn’t come, but it could still happen.” He shook his head. “When was your last period?”

  “I’m expecting it soon.” In fact, when he’d invited me on this trip, I worried I might start bleeding while we were here.

  He nodded, his eyes showing a hint of relief. Clearly Mac did not want to make a baby with me, not yet anyway, and I guess the timing would not be ideal.

  He rested his head on top of mine. “I tr
ied,” he said softly.

  I wasn’t sure what he meant, but instead of asking, I reached up to stroke the side of his neck, run my fingers into the damp hair at the back of his head.

  “I tried to pretend…” He drew a breath so long and deep that my body rose several inches along with his chest.

  “It doesn’t seem possible. Not so fast.” His fingers trailed deliciously up and down my spine. “I’m so wrong for you.”

  “You’re not.” I lifted my head and he kissed me, his lips gently tasting mine as our hands caressed each other’s bodies like they had a plan to explore and comfort at the same time. I shifted on his lap to improve my kissing angle and realized his penis was still erect, pressed against my hip.

  My insides pulsed with need. I felt different down there—sore—but still longing, still aching for him, and my nipples were tender against his chest.

  “Let’s go to bed,” I said softly.

  Lifting me in his arms, he rose and carried me into the bedroom. The bed was turned down, and he threw the covers farther back with one strong arm and laid me down, moving to the other side to join me.

  “You’re too far away.” I slid over.

  We met in the middle, wrapping into each other’s arms and staring into each other’s eyes.

  “Your plan failed, Cormac Downey. I still love you. Even more if that’s possible.”

  He drew a long breath. “I’m not worthy of your love, but I’m grateful.”

  Grateful that I loved him? Or that I let him take me the way he wanted? That I didn’t hate him for doing it? My insides still buzzed and ached with the memory of what we’d done, what he’d done to me.

  “What are you grateful for?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

  “Grateful for you. That you came into my life.” He ran his thumb over my cheek. “That first day, when I first saw you on that basketball court, I never imagined…”

  “If the topic is basketball, I’m the one who’s grateful. Those kids were dangerously close to full-fledged rebellion when you showed up. If you hadn’t helped me—”

  “That,” he interrupted, “and everything that’s come after, was my pleasure.”

  “Speaking of pleasure.” I reached between us to take his still hard penis into my hand. “Need some help with this?”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I want you inside me again.” I couldn’t believe the boldness of my words, but I meant them.

  His eyes darkened, and he pulled in a sharp breath. “You sure? You’re not too sore?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  He turned to the bedside table to get a condom. “Tell me if it hurts,” he said softly. “Promise.”

  I nodded. “I trust you.”

  “After what I just did?” His voice broke, and he blinked a few times.

  “You know…” I bit my lower lip. “I didn’t dislike that. Not entirely.”

  Condom placed, he tipped his head to the side and looked at me questioningly.

  “I missed seeing your face and the connection between us while we were making love, but it felt… it felt good, right up until it didn’t.” My insides clenched as if my body was trying to relive the act.

  “Really?” His hand dipped down between us, parting my legs and stroking gently through my still wet folds.

  “I don’t lie.” I sucked a sharp breath as his finger flicked over my clit, so sensitive I could barely stand the pressure. “Oh, that… Oh.”

  “Like that?” His voice deepened as he rubbed harder.

  “It’s…” I squirmed. “It’s too much right now.”

  His hand moved off my clit and slid down to circle my opening, applying gentle pressure there that felt delicious. “Let me know if you’re too sore.”

  I nodded and started to roll onto my back to be ready for him, but he pulled my thigh up and over his hip, and then, as we lay on our sides, he slowly pushed inside me.

  I pulled in long, open-mouthed breaths as he tunneled forward. It was like every cell inside me was welcoming him back, waking up to greet him as he slid farther and farther inside me. I was sore, but it was a good sore, like the stiffness the day after rigorous exercise.

  Once he was fully seated, our hip bones kissing, he held the back of my head and then, looking into my eyes, he rocked his body against mine slowly, the slight friction so delicious and even more pleasurable given his tenderness and the emotions flowing through me, the emotions I felt sure were flowing through him, too, even if he couldn’t admit it. His eyes said all the words I needed to hear.

  He took my face between his hands, and the intensity of our rocking increased, his thick member sliding inside me as if it belonged there, as if it had always belonged there, and I wondered how my body had functioned twenty-two years without ever having had him inside me.

  “You’re amazing,” he said, and then he kissed me.

  Our lips joined, our tongues caressing, our sex organs bound together, and I lost all sense of time and place, like we were linked together in outer space, no gravity, no bed beneath us and no Vegas outside the windows, just our bodies and our mouths moving together in one endless dance I never wanted to end.

  But at some point, our lips did part. His hands moved to my bottom and pulled me against him more tightly as he slid inside me with more speed and urgency.

  His face turned red, veins rising on his temples, then his mouth opened. His eyes closed and he shouted my name, along with some curse words, as his body tensed and then shuddered, thrusting a few hard times before relaxing completely. He turned onto his back, pulling me on top of him.

  It seemed like he’d fallen asleep, but his hands proved he hadn’t. They caressed my body, stroking me as if he could never get enough. I knew I couldn’t. I loved this man and I loved how it felt with his hands touching me like this, so gentle and intimate, so personal and loving.

  Even if Mac didn’t love me, I knew that he cared for me, and I knew that I’d never stop loving him.

  Moaning, he lifted my chin so I could look into his eyes.

  “Holy shit, Faith.”

  I grinned, not able to come up with a response that would capture the sentiment better than he had.

  “I don’t know why it’s so hard to admit it.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “No, I do know why. It’s because I don’t deserve you. Not in a million years do I deserve you. But I can’t help it. Fuck. I love you. Faith, I love you so fucking much.”

  Before I could respond, he pushed me onto my back, slid down my body, and took my sensitive clit into his mouth.

  Thirteen

  Mac

  “Come on,” Dillon shouted from the living room. “I’m starving.”

  I glanced up from a resource website for small business owners. “There’s leftover Thai in the fridge.”

  “Keagan’s got sandwiches.”

  My stomach growled, and I set my tablet down on the bed. Keagan lived across the Shady Oaks courtyard from the apartment I shared with my twin. There was no reason Dillon couldn’t go over without me, but we always went to Keagan’s together. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time one of us had gone without the other.

  “Go on ahead,” I shouted through my closed door, which immediately opened.

  “What’s wrong?” Dillon stood in the doorway.

  “Dude!” I shook my head. “Ever heard of knocking? Maybe a little privacy?”

  Dillon laughed. “We shared a room for eighteen years, Ma’s belly for nine months before that. Wouldn’t be the first time I caught you with your hand on your dick.” He brushed to the side the long shock of hair that perpetually shaded his eyes. “Porn?” He nodded to my tablet.

  “No.” I pushed myself off the bed. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  It was only three days until the big job, so I’d have to break the news to my brothers eventually. I was backing out. Putting off telling them wouldn’t make it easier.

  Plus, there were sandwiches.

  “I w
as doing research about starting a small business.” We walked across the living area of the apartment together.

  “Really.” Dillon opened the door to our apartment. “So, you’re thinking about going legit once this job’s done, too?”

  “More like before it,” I said quietly halfway across the courtyard.

  “What?” Dillon spun toward me. “What the fuck is up with you?”

  I shrugged.

  “Come on. Something’s up. It’s written all over you. You’ve been weird since you got back from Vegas.”

  “Don’t tell the others, okay?”

  “Don’t tell them what?” Dillon reached for Keagan’s door. “Did you win a jackpot or something, because you’d better share.”

  “It’s not that.” I grabbed his arm to hold him back from opening Keagan’s door. “Promise you’ll keep this to yourself?”

  “Okay, okay. What the hell, Mac?”

  “I met someone. A girl. Woman. Person.”

  “A girl-woman-person?” Dillon smirked.

  “Fuck off. She’s special. And it’s serious. And suddenly the idea of risking prison seems like poking myself in the eye.”

  Dillon rolled his eyes. “You’re just thinking with your dick.”

  I shook my head. “It’s more than that.”

  “Mac’s thinking with his dick? What’s new.” Our brother Shane appeared out of nowhere. Must have been hanging in the shadows as Dill and I walked across the sun-filled courtyard.

  I shot Dillon a warning look as I passed by him into Keagan’s apartment, where Nick was already piling meat onto a bun.

  “Hey!” Keagan shouted from the kitchen. “About time you guys got here.”

  I walked over to Nick, who was chomping down on his sandwich, and made one for myself. He might be my little brother in years, but there was nothing little about Nick. “You’re here.”

  I clapped him on the huge expanse of his back. “That mean you changed your mind?” I added quietly, hoping the other Downeys wouldn’t hear.

  He gave me a noncommittal shrug as he took another bite of sandwich.

  “It’s a go for Saturday night.” Shane rubbed his hands together as he approached Keagan. “Everything set?”