Play Rough

by Eva Ashwood

  One of Levi’s hands comes forward, and he sets it on the flat of my stomach, almost like he wants to feel the way my body accommodates the girth of him. His hips press up and I sink down, and we meet in the middle again and again.

  The TV plays on, and even though I’m facing it, I have no idea what the hell is happening on the screen. It’s all just colors and sounds at this point, and the only thing keeping my attention is Levi’s cock and his hands on me.

  They’re like anchors, keeping me from floating away, and I can’t get enough.

  My chest heaves as I pant for breath, and my heart races. Each time I sink down, the pleasure climbs a bit more, and I can hear Levi’s ragged breathing in my ear, the little hitches in it that tell me he’s enjoying the hell out of this.

  “I want you to come for me,” he grunts. “God, Mercy. I want to feel you come on my cock.”

  I want that too, and I nod, reaching down to grab his hand and pull it between my legs. My clit is still sensitive from his mouth being on it, and when the pads of his fingers brush against it, I have to suck in a sharp breath.

  It feels so good. It’s all so fucking good.

  Levi knows what to do, and he picks up where his tongue left off, stroking and pressing his fingers against my clit while his cock continues to thrust inside me.

  The combination of the two is so much, and I almost forget to breathe. All I can do is hold on as we move together, each breath coming out like a moan.

  “Close,” Levi grunts out, and I feel him shaking under me. “So close.”

  “Yeah,” I pant. “Me too.”

  That’s all he needs to hear, apparently.

  His fingers fly over my clit, harder and faster, working it relentlessly until all I can feel is him. His cock, his hands, his breath on my neck. The scent of our arousal is thick in the air around me, and I breathe it in, letting it send me closer and closer to the edge.

  It doesn’t take long. A few more deep thrusts, and I go tight around him, my pussy spasming when my orgasm hits me hard. My vision goes white around the edges, and I bite my lip again to hold back the sounds, eyes squeezed shut as I ride out the tide of sensation.

  It’s like my pussy is trying to milk Levi of his release too, and he’s not far behind me, swearing under his breath as he surges up a couple more times before burying himself deep.

  “Fuck, Mercy. Oh fuck.” He grinds his hips against my ass, muttering several low curses as his cock throbs rhythmically.

  We both finally go still, boneless and exhausted, breathing heavily as our bodies recover from the exertion.

  Levi’s cock is still buried in me, and I feel too much like jello to move. He came inside me, just like Rory did before, but I’m too out of it to care at the moment, floating on the haze of pleasure and endorphins that come from really good sex.

  Maybe it’s not just the sex, though.

  Maybe it’s the fact that for the first time in a long time, I feel almost… safe.

  16

  “Shit,” Levi groans. “Holy fuck, that was amazing.”

  He curses again softly, then presses a kiss to the side of my neck, his voice heavy with satisfaction.

  He sounds totally sated, and I feel the same way, even if I don’t want to admit it. The whole point of giving into my desire for him was to make me stop thinking about any other feelings I might have. But in the end, I just feel soft and warm, and it’s not something I want to poke at.

  Eventually, I feel like I can move again, and I push up onto my feet, letting his cock slide out of me. I’m a mess with the slickness from my own orgasm and the sticky remnants of Levi’s cum still inside me.

  There’s a box of tissues on the end table, so I grab a few of those and clean myself up as best I can. I’m still too wobbly to make it to the bathroom, so that’s just going to have to do.

  Levi picks his sweats up from the floor and pulls them back on, tucking his cock away and sitting back down with his arms spread along the back of the couch. He looks comfortable and pleased, a little smile tucked into the corner of his mouth.

  I grab for my own clothes, pulling my panties and shorts back on and adjusting my tank top so it covers my tits again. For a second, I consider going back upstairs, but before I can decide one way or another, Levi grabs my hand and pulls me to sit down on the couch again, wrapping an arm around me so I’m tucked against his side.

  For a few minutes, we just sit there, not talking, letting the low hum of the TV fill in the silence. My eyes are locked on the screen, but again, I’m not paying the slightest bit of attention to what’s happening.

  Levi is warm and solid, and as much as I tell myself I shouldn’t, I find myself leaning into him, my whole body relaxed. We sit like that until he shifts, moving both of us until we’re lying on the couch, tucked together.

  “You know,” he says after a bit, his voice quiet. “This is a first.”

  “What, sex on the couch?” I murmur back. “It’s not that out there.”

  He snorts and turns his head to give me a look. “No, not sex on the couch. This.” He waves his free hand in the air as if to encompass the whole house and everyone in it. “The three of us being interested in the same woman.”

  “Oh.”

  I open my mouth again and then close it. I feel like I should have more to contribute to the conversation than that single word, but I can’t think of what else to say.

  It’s not surprising, really, that this has never come up between them before. The three of them get along well, but they’re very different people. It makes sense that they would have different tastes.

  “We just like different things in women,” Levi continues, confirming what I thought. “But that all sort of went out the window when you came to live with us. There’s just something about you.”

  “Something like what?” I ask, actually curious about the answer to that.

  Levi shrugs. “I think you complement each of us in some way. Even Sloan, which never fucking happens.”

  It’s my turn to snort when he says the bit about Sloan because of course that man is the one who’s hard to please. But apparently there’s something about me that he likes, and I’m not sure what to do with that thought.

  “I’m not backing off,” Levi adds. “I have no idea what to do about this whole… thing, but I’m not giving up just because of Rory and Sloan. Not unless you tell me I don’t have a shot or you’re not interested.”

  He’s given me an opening. It would be so easy to nip this in the bud right here and now. I could tell Levi I’m not interested, that he has no shot with me, and it would be over. Maybe he wouldn’t like it, but it would be an easy way to let him down without burning a bridge. I could just say I don’t have feelings for him and lie my way out of this.

  But I can’t quite bring myself to do it. So I don’t respond to his statement, letting him read whatever he wants into my silence on the topic.

  Instead, I push up a bit so I can look down at him, watching the shadows on his face shift and change from the light of the TV. I search for something to say and remember the conversation we had that first day when he came with me to my school. It seems like forever ago now, but it’s as good a subject change as any.

  “Did you ever have something you wanted to do besides being in a gang?” I ask. “I remember you seemed a little… I don’t know, sad I guess, about not going to school when you took me to mine that first time.”

  To my surprise, Levi glances away, looking almost shy and embarrassed at the question. He’s quiet for a minute, and then he licks his lips and looks back up at me. “Yeah. When I was younger I did. I had this dream of being an artist.”

  “Really?” My eyebrows shoot up before I can stop them. It’s honestly one of the last things I expected to hear.

  Levi nods, his cheeks going a little pink. “Yeah. I love drawing. I always did. I would have studied it in school if I could. Tried to learn more and get to the next level, but…” He shrugs again. “It wasn’t in t
he cards.”

  “I had no idea,” I tell him.

  “I mean, it’s fine anyway. I still draw when I can, and you know, not all artists have real schooling anyway. Being self-taught is a thing. I have a bunch of sketchpads in my room.”

  I think back to when I was snooping through their rooms before, and I can remember seeing a stack of what I assumed at the time were notebooks in Levi’s room. I didn’t look closely at them because I was trying to find stuff that had to do with Black Rose business.

  I wonder if the others know about his hobby. Do they support it if they do? Sloan doesn’t seem like the type to encourage hobbies outside of gang related things, but I can’t be sure. Either way, I know Levi just gave me a big piece of himself. He admitted something that was close to his heart, and I’m weirdly grateful.

  It’s a big step toward getting him to trust me, proving that the things I’ve been doing to make that happen are working, but that isn’t why I feel so pleased by this revelation.

  For once, it doesn’t have anything to do with my attempts to bring the Black Roses down. I’m just happy to know something like this about him.

  Sometimes I feel like I’m building images of the three of these men piece by piece in my mind. Sloan is the least fleshed out, although I learned a good bit over dinner. Rory and Levi are almost full pictures, every little thing I learn just adding to the overall image.

  Rory and his love for his daughter, Levi and his love of art. They’re people outside of their dedication to the gang, and I know it’s dangerous to think of them like that, but at the same time, it makes me feel warm and pleased to know it. To know them.

  Levi reaches up and touches my face with one large, warm hand. He cups my cheek and strokes his thumb over my cheekbone before drawing me down close enough that he can kiss me.

  The touch of his lips to mine is getting so familiar, and I sink into it, letting my eyes flutter closed while my mouth moves with his. It’s long and deep and lazy, not going anywhere or sparking another round of sex. Just kissing for the sake of it. Because it feels good and we want to.

  And it’s so easy to lose myself in it again, to pause and pull away a bit so I can breathe and then let myself be coaxed back into another kiss.

  Eventually, Levi drifts off, falling asleep next to me on the couch. He looks unbothered and comfortable, breathing evenly. It’s late as hell at this point, but whatever comfort I got from the two orgasms has evaporated, and my mind is too full to sleep again.

  I keep turning it all over and over in my head—all the bullshit I’ve gotten tangled up in, all the scheming and lies.

  I can tell myself I’m doing this to get close enough to my keepers to get what I need, but the softer feelings keep poking their heads in, reminding me that there’s more than revenge going on here.

  But none of that matters compared to what I’m supposed to be doing. I catch a glimpse of Levi’s phone on the coffee table, and an idea sparks in my head.

  His breathing is even and slow, and I wait a few extra minutes just to be sure before I slowly and carefully reach for his phone. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even stir, and I hold my breath before grabbing the hand that’s hanging half off the couch.

  Again, there’s no movement, and I let the breath out and use his fingerprint to unlock the phone.

  It lights up, but it’s not bright enough to disturb him. I still turn the screen toward me, making sure none of the light spills onto him. His texting app is right there, and I open it, scrolling through the messages with my heart in my throat.

  He could wake up at any second and find me going through his personal messages, which feels like such a betrayal after the conversation we just had. But I have to do it. I have to find something.

  There are a few texts to an unsaved number about the Black Roses moving a bunch of money around. Laundering it, basically. The person he was talking to mentions the first name of the accountant that they have handling that for them, and I feel a spike of triumph in the middle of the anxiety.

  They’ve had a bunch of cash come in recently from a big deal that went through, apparently, and their accountant is going to launder it for them, according to the messages. The cash is with him.

  I scan the messages a few more times, memorizing the info so I can give it to Paul when I see him next.

  Levi shifts a little, and my eyes snap to him for a second, peeking to make sure he’s still asleep. After a breathless moment, he settles back down, and I feel my blood start rushing again. I need to stop looking soon before I get caught doing this.

  I scroll through a few more things, just trying to see what I can find. I check the notes app, but there’s nothing there other than a couple of shopping lists that look old.

  There’s nothing useful up on his browser app at the moment either, so I close that and move on. I check the photos, just in case he’s snapped any pictures of important things.

  There are several photos of sketches he’s done, taken after he finished the drawings, and I find myself scrolling through those for a bit, just admiring them.

  He’s a really good artist, and everything he’s captured has a life to it that I didn’t expect. It’s clear he’s most interested in drawing people. There are several incredibly lifelike sketches of people I don’t recognize, and I wonder if they’re people he knows well or just strangers he noticed on the street and decided to capture with his pencils for some reason. There’s even a rough drawing of a man that looks enough like Levi that I feel like it has to be his older brother.

  It’s clear he has talent, and I can’t stop myself from wanting to see more. I flip through some that seem to be just basic figure drawings, and then I come across a sketch of myself.

  My fingers hover over the screen for a second, and I stare at it, surprised.

  From the sketched out area around me, I can tell it’s from the night of the race, and I look happy. My head’s tipped back as I laugh at something—probably something Rory said, considering how Sloan was acting that day. I look genuinely happy in his sketch, and I remember feeling pretty carefree and happy that night in general.

  The booze worked its wonders, and Levi and Rory were in good moods too.

  For a second, my heart squeezes as I look at the picture. Is this how Levi sees me? I would’ve noticed if he was sketching while we were at the race, so that means he drew this from his memory. Just bright and happy and laughing with the two of them.

  It hits me hard in the chest and nearly steals my breath.

  It’s as if he wanted to remember that moment. To remember me in it.

  As if he actually likes me.

  He’s already said as much, of course, but with the three of them, I never know what to believe. How much of it is the game we’re playing and how much of it is the truth. Sloan always says one thing and then does another or lets his anger take over and make him do shit that contradicts what he’s said. Rory and Levi are more genuine, but with everything going on, I have to be skeptical.

  But here’s proof in actions that speak even louder than words. Here’s a sketch of me that Levi took the time to draw and even snapped a picture of to save it. Because it mattered to him. Because… I matter to him?

  It’s dangerous. It’s so, so dangerous, but I can’t take my eyes away from it. I should delete it. I don’t want him to have this. It makes everything too real, brings up all those feelings I’m trying to shove down and deny because I have bigger fish to fry. My finger hovers over the delete button, and I chew my bottom lip hard, not sure what to do.

  If I delete it, he’ll know I went into his phone. That’s too dangerous.

  I sigh softly, hit the power button on the side to dim the screen, and put his phone back on the coffee table before he can catch me looking.

  Levi sleeps on, none the wiser to what I’ve just found out, comfortable and at ease.

  Rising carefully from the couch, I make myself get up to go back to my room. Something tugs in my chest when I look down at him again,
a pull that urges me to lie back down with him. Deep in my heart, I can admit that I really want to believe he cares about me. That the feelings are real and not just some lie.

  When I think about it, I do believe it, but I just don’t believe it’s enough. He’ll be loyal to his gang more than to me. He’ll choose them every time, no matter what happens. I have to remember that.

  I watch him for a second more and then tear myself away, slipping upstairs.

  I don’t sleep well, and my dreams are filled with images of my dad and the guys, and me, not being sure what to do or how to save one and keep the others. When I wake up, I have a headache, and all I really want to do is crawl back underneath the covers and sleep for a week, but of course, I can’t. I get up early and text Paul to meet me in class again, saying I have some solid information for him.

  He’s there waiting for me when my Sociology class starts, and I sit next to him the same as before. Just like last time, I pull out a piece of paper and write down everything I know. The accountant’s name, the amount of money I saw on Levi’s phone, and the dates I found in their rooms. I’m not sure how it all pieces together, but maybe someone in one of the two gangs will be able to make more sense of it.

  Paul takes his time reading it when I pass him the note and then nods, tearing the part with the information off and stuffing it into his pocket.

  He quickly scribbles a note on the paper that’s left and passes it back to me.

  That’s a good start. You need to find out where this guy lives, though. We need that info. That would definitely be worth something. This isn’t specific enough to be worth all that much.

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes when I read it. For fuck’s sake. It’s not specific enough, even though I went to so much trouble to get it, sneaking around and…

  Whatever. I grab my pen and write back.

  Okay. I’ll try.

  I don’t like this guy, if I’m being honest. He’s a bit of an asshole, acting like he can determine what’s worth something and what’s not. But whatever. I need his help, and I’m committed to my plan.