“Help me.”
And he does. His hands over my hands, we slide my shirt and bra up and over my head, his fingers tangling with mine, caressing my body as I am bared for his pleasure. When we get to my shoulders, I raise my arms and Ray takes over. Slow and sensual, his fingers glide over my skin, filling me with the sensation of his touch. When he reaches my hands, he yanks the clothing over my head and tosses it to the floor with a victory growl.
“Back in position.” He smooths his hands down my arms and places my palms against the cool metal surface of the shop wall. And then he is everywhere, his hands roaming over my body, setting fire to my skin. When he has thoroughly touched and kissed every inch of my exposed skin, he tugs out my ponytail holder. My hair fans out across my back in a silken wave.
“Fuck. I love your hair.” He strokes his fingers through the strands. “Don’t put it up when you’re with me.”
“Guess that means I won’t be with you when I’m exercising or doing ink.” With a grin, I look back over my shoulder, but my smile fades at the intensity of his stare.
“You know what I do to girls who give me attitude?” He kicks my legs apart, then smooths his hand over my ass.
Desire, dark and delicious, curls through my body. “What do you do?”
His hand tightens, fingers digging into my flesh. “I spank them.”
I make a soft sound, deep in my throat. Morbid fascination, dangerous desire—everything I’ve imagined but never thought could be real, he offers with a brush of his fingertips. “I’ve never been spanked,” I whisper. “But I think I might like it.”
His deep, satisfied rumble pulses between my legs. “You’re gonna kill me, sayin’ things like that.” He circles my waist with his hands, his fingers lingering on the waistband of my jeans, skimming along the inside, his touch an erotic tickle that makes me writhe against him.
“Don’t move.”
“Then don’t do things that make me want to push you to the ground and tear off your clothes.”
He chuckles, amused. “We’ll get to that later. Right now, you’re taking off your jeans and I’m gonna help you, like last time.”
With a vicious tug, he reaches around and opens the zipper, then positions my hands on my hips and covers them with his palms, guiding me as I push down my jeans. Although he is working around my trigger, he is still totally in control, and I tremble, overwhelmed with the knowledge that for the first time, I can have what I want without the past getting in the way.
He crouches beside me, offering his shoulder as I toe off my shoes and kick my jeans away. Then he licks his lips and barks, “Back to the wall.”
My mouth waters at his tone—low, commanding, authoritative. Intensely erotic. He is so unlike any man I have ever been with. I turn without thinking, curiosity overriding reticence and my fear of losing control.
Crouched in front of me, Ray glides his hands up my legs, his fingers drawing lazy circles over the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, turning my thoughts to the throbbing between my legs. Unable to resist, I run my hands through the soft fuzz on his head.
He looks up, his eyes hooded with desire, then stands, dwarfing me with his massive body. With one hand pressed against the wall beside me, he glides a finger along the edge of my silky red panties, his lips curling into a satisfied smile when I whimper.
“You like red panties?”
“I like what’s hidden by red panties.” His naughty finger glides over my mound, brushing over the thin slip of fabric covering my aching clit. My breath catches in my throat, and I arch my back and moan.
“You want more?” His voice rumbles in my ear as he slides his hand down to cup my sex.
“Yes.”
He wraps one arm around my waist, pulling my body against him. Then he kicks my legs apart.
“Open for me.”
My cheeks flame, but the rest of me is burning so hot even the wetness between my thighs won’t be able to put out the fire. I part my legs, and he shoves my panties aside, stroking through my folds with a thick, firm finger. Then he rips my panties away.
My lungs seize. My heart skips a beat. Flashbacks slice through my arousal, and I gasp, my fingers digging into his arm, nails cutting his skin. “Oh God…I…”
He cuts me off with a kiss, this one hard and urgent, his hand cupping the back of my head, holding me still as he forces my lips apart. “That’s it. Use me,” he growls. “If something is scaring you, holding you back, give it to me. I want your pain, Sia.”
He does not lie. His cock, thick and hard as steel, presses against my abdomen, rigid beneath his jeans.
I tighten my grip on his arm, clawing his skin, imagining the memories are flowing through my fingertips and into him, where they are beaten away by the sheer force of his presence, solid and unyielding beneath me. My tension eases. I release him and gasp when I see blood on his skin.
“Good girl,” he whispers. “And you didn’t hurt me. The harder you hold, the more I get off.”
Ray glides his fingers through my folds and up to my throbbing nub. I know the exact moment he feels my piercing because he jerks his hand away.
“Surprise number two,” I say.
His sharp intake of breath, followed by an appreciative growl is all the reassurance I need, and I smile.
“Christ.” Crouching down, he stares at the little barbell piercing my clitoral hood. “You’ve pierced your clit too.”
“Just the hood. It’s a VGH piercing.”
He gently touches the top and bottom of the little barbell. My clit throbs in response and I moan.
“Does that feel good?”
“Oh, yes.”
He touches it again—strokes, wiggles, plays.
“Why did you do it?” He pushes himself to his feet, his brow creased.
“I…” How do I explain my rationale without explaining what happened to me? And after Peter’s brutal reaction, I am not telling him that story. I don’t want tears or sympathy. I don’t want to be treated like glass. And I don’t want my past to be baggage that will chase Ray away. I just want to be normal. “It makes me feel…sexy.”
Ray’s eyes blaze, his breathing raw and ragged. “You are sexy. Damn sexy. You don’t need anything to make you that way.” Bold now, he cups my sex, pressing his palm against my piercing. I suck in a sharp breath and rock my hips against him, need coiling tight in my core. “What’s it like?”
“Again…you’re the first, but don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.” He spins me around, one hand spanning my stomach while he pulls me back against him. “Arms up and around my neck. That work for you?”
“Yes.” I do as he asks, my body arching as I reach behind me, my breasts thrusting up and out for his tormenting pleasure.
“Very nice.” He cups my left breast, gently tugging my nipple ring as his fingers trace soft circles over my skin. “I don’t know what to play with first.”
Looking back over my shoulder, I brush my lips over his cheek. “Play with all of me.”
“Oh, I will.”
While he torments my nipple with one hand, he glides the other down my body, resting his fingers on my mound, just above my piercing. When I jerk my hips, trying to let him know I want more, he toys with the little barbell, stroking, pressing, wiggling, testing, driving my arousal up so fast, I am whimpering and rocking against his hand in minutes.
“You’re so fucking wet. Hot.”
His words fuel my fire and I moan. “You going to talk about it? Or are you going to do something about it?”
Ray chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” And then he thrusts one thick finger deep inside me.
“Oh God.” I breathe out my pleasure at the exquisite intrusion.
“Fuck you’re tight.” He groans and presses his finger deeper. “Been a while?”
“Kind of a personal question, don’t you think?”
He draws his finger out and then drives two fingers into my slit. “
Ah, well then. Wouldn’t want to get personal while my fingers are in your pussy. Maybe I’ll take them out and we can talk.”
My sex tightens around him, and I moan when he strokes his fingers against my sensitive inner walls.
“Don’t want me to take them out? You want me to fuck you with these fingers? Make you scream?”
Fists clenched tight behind his neck, back arched, nipples rock hard, I grind against his thrusting fingers. “Yes. Please. Yes.”
“How long? Answer the question.”
Panting, my wetness dripping down my thighs, so aroused I can barely think, I moan my answer. “Over a year. Gave up because the guys I met didn’t do it for me.”
“Because you needed me,” he rasps, his cock pressed tight against my ass. “You needed a real man. A man who can drive you up and take you down until you are begging him to let you come. A man who can make you come with a flick of his fingers.”
“Like you.” I groan and rock my hips toward him. I’ve never needed to come so badly in my life.
“Like me. Now, touch your breasts.” His voice is a sensual, husky rumble in my ear and I lower my hands and cup by breasts, alternating between squeezing and flicking my nipples with my thumbs. My head falls back against Ray’s shoulder and I draw in a ragged breath.
“That’s right.” He presses a third finger into my sex, stretching me, filling me as he glides slowly in and out, pressing the pads of his fingers along my sensitive spot, his palm resting on my piercing, rubbing the tiny barbell against my swollen nub. Frantic with need, I ride his fingers, driving my ass against the steel of his erection. Tension coils inside me, building so quickly that, for a moment, I forget to breathe.
Out of control. My skin prickles and my chest tightens in warning.
“Come for me, beautiful girl.” His voice, deep and low, coils around me like a rope, binding me to his will. “Come all over my hand. Give it up to me.”
His words, his voice, sizzle to the most primal part of my brain. Naughty words. Dirty words. Arousing words. I writhe against him as he draws me to my peak, alternating the pressure on my clit with the deep thrust of his fingers until I am wound so tight my body trembles and the part of me that screams for me to run is drowned by the betraying thunder of my desire as it pounds through my veins. But it takes his hand tangling in my hair, yanking my head back so hard my eyes water, his lips hard on mine, to release me.
And then I’m gone, lost in the firestorm of a climax that sweeps through my body, a blaze of incredible pleasure that rips a scream from my throat and takes me past the point of no return.
After a panting pause, Ray withdraws his fingers and spins me around to face him, pulling me against his body. His erection presses into my stomach and I reach between us to stroke along his length. But when I tug on his fly, he stays my hand.
“Not tonight.”
“But…don’t you want…need?” I give him a tentative smile. “I’m not selfish, you know. And I have a condom in my purse.”
Ray stiffens then places a soft kiss on my forehead. “I want you so bad, I can barely keep it together. But knowing myself, the way I am right now, if I take it any further, I’ll hurt you.”
“I won’t break. Hard. Rough. I don’t care. I want you inside me.” For a moment, I am back in the dark years, when I thought mindlessly fucking strangers would wipe Luke’s touch away. But Ray isn’t a stranger. And I have no point to prove, except that I want him. I have wanted him since the day I first saw him in the ring.
Gaze locked to his, I tug on his belt. When he doesn’t move, I pull it open, then yank on his fly. The button pops, and I draw the zipper down, inch by slow inch, letting my fingers graze over his shaft, which is straining against his fly.
He stills when I drop to my knees and pull his clothing over his hips. His erection springs free, hard, heavy, and so big it takes my breath away. Body tense and quivering, jaw tight, he makes no move to help me save for stepping out of his clothing when I drop them to the floor.
I lick my lips, wondering how he might taste, but when I reach for his thick shaft, he fists my hair and pulls me up, leaving me under no illusions about who is in control.
“This is what you want?” His voice is hollow, his eyes so dark they are almost black, and for the first time, I wonder if I’ve made the right decision.
“Yes.”
He guides me across the floor to what must have been the main work area. Scrapes and patches on the floor indicate where the heavy equipment must have been, pieces of cardboard and small, gray piles of metal dust cling to the side of the wall. Ray stops in front of a worn, wooden workbench pushed up against the wall, the grease stains barely visible in the semidarkness. Then he pushes me down on the cool, hard surface.
“Don’t move.”
His feet thud over the floor. I hear the rustle of clothing and the crinkle of a condom wrapper. Then he is back. One hand presses against my lower back, holding me firm against the table, and the other twists in my hair, making me arch, my ass rubbing against his hips.
“I can’t be gentle.” His voice is raw, husky with need, low with warning. “For a coupla hours after a fight, I got no gentleness in me.”
“You’ve been pretty gentle so far.”
“That was the getting to know you bit.” With a low groan, he kicks my legs apart, his fingers diving into my swollen pussy. I moan and rock against his touch, need building afresh. My breaths turn to pants, and he draws his fingers out, slicking my wetness up and around my clit, bumping against the piercing until lust fuzzes my brain, my body heats, and a cold sweat prickles my skin.
Nonononononono. Not now. This is what I wanted. Hot, wild, rough animal sex. No strings. No attachments. Just pure physical pleasure.
Before the panic takes hold, he thrusts inside me, pushing through my sensitive tissue. Hard, fast, and so deep my breath catches in my throat. Before I can get used to his thickness, the fullness, the delight of having him inside me, he withdraws and thrusts again, deeper this time, hitting my cervix and making me gasp.
“You okay?”
Am I okay? Trapped between panic and desire, my body thrumming with need, my mind screaming of danger, I force a word from my lips. A lie. A challenge. A deep, desperate desire to be normal. “Yes.”
“Don’t lie to me, Sia.” He reaches around and rubs his thumb over my bottom lip, then pushes it inside my mouth. “Bite. Give it to me, beautiful girl.”
I bite. As hard as I dare. Ray groans and grips my hip with his free hand, then hammers into me, his shaft sliding over my sensitive inner walls. My piercing vibrates against my clit with his every thrust, and my nipples rub against the gritty surface of the table. Too much. Too many sensations. My arousal builds fast and fierce, spiraling out of control, and when he reaches around to stroke my clit, I am gone, screaming at the shock of an orgasm so intense I feel like I am being ripped apart by pleasure. Ray slides his thumb from my mouth and his rhythm quickens. Fingers dig into my hips and his body tenses, straining as he comes, his shaft pulsing inside me.
He collapses over my back, feathering soft kisses against my neck, but as my pleasure fades, something dark takes its place—the PTSD that will not go away. My lungs seize and I stiffen, squeezing my eyes shut as I rasp in a breath.
Ray pulls me up and wraps his arms around me. “I hurt you.”
“No.” Alarmed he would blame himself, I wrap my arms over his. If he would just hold me, make me feel safe, I’ll be okay. But he pulls away.
“You should have told me to stop.” He scrapes his hand through his hair. “You should have told me it was too much. I’ve got no limits. When I lose it, I lose it, and you threaten my control like no one else.”
Curiously, his distress eases my anxiety. “It wasn’t too much,” I say softly. “You need to stop worrying you’re going to hurt me. And I didn’t want you to stop. It was just…very intense. I’ll be okay.”
But I’m not okay. Gritting my teeth, I try to breathe through waves
of panic as I search for my clothes, drawing slow, deep breaths, counting in my head, taking comfort in the familiarity of getting dressed. I did what I had promised myself I would never do. I gave up control, left myself open, vulnerable, and my subconscious couldn’t deal. I played with fire and I got burned.
Silence weighs heavy in the air between us. We tidy the fight area and lock up the building. I follow Ray to his bike, wishing for the first time ever that Tag was here to take me home.
Ray’s Harley Softail is huge, heavily chromed, and oozes sex. Ironic how only a few hours ago, I would have killed for a ride on his bike, and now it is the last place I want to be.
Ray hands me the second helmet, and I fasten it under my chin and slide onto the pillion seat behind him. He points out the passenger pegs, two silver bars with little skulls on the ends, and I position my feet, then wrap my hands around his waist. Moments later, the engine thrums between my legs and we shoot off into the night. My body molds into his. My breasts press tight against his broad back, my hips grind into his ass. This is going to be one hell of a ride.
Too bad it will be my last.
Chapter 11
Hand
“What am I going to do?” Jess sobs, and grabs another tissue from the box on my living room table, an upside-down polar bear holding the glass with his feet. “How many years did I wait and then, suddenly, out of the blue, Tag shows up and expects me to still be waiting for him? It’s ruined my weekend. No. It’s ruined my life.”
“Well…you were still waiting for him last week,” I say. “And Tag wasn’t expecting you to be waiting for him. He says he’s too busy for a relationship, but he’s happy for you.”
She blows her nose and tosses the tissue at the already overflowing trash can. My bright blue area rug is already dotted with tissues as is the huge, overstuffed white couch she’s sitting on. Although I always wear black when I go out, my house is a riot of primary colors, a throwback to the old me.
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