by Jo Raven
You’re a liar, Storm. That wasn’t what came first. Her curiosity, her concern, her warmth, her bright spirit, that was the beginning. That was what drew you to her from the start.
I kiss her harder, to silence the voice in my thoughts, biting her soft lower lip, drawing it between my teeth until she whimpers. Her curves are soft, molding to my body. She tastes of summer and freedom and wild girl, and I groan as my stomach clenches and my dick hardens. I trail my hand up the silky material of her gray dress, over the mound of her breast, feeling her nipple bunch up under my palm.
She puts her hands on my chest, giving me a little shove, which I ignore. My tongue slides over hers, and she moans.
So hot. And oh fuck me, she’s still wearing the high heels my assistants bought for her. Breaking the kiss, I peek down, glimpsing them at the ends of her long legs.
Shit. I grab her leg, lift it around my thigh, and press her to the wall, eating up her mouth. I ache to bury myself in her, lose myself, forget. My hard-on presses into her softness, and my hand dives under the silky fabric of her dress, slides over her smooth thigh up to reach the lace of her panties.
Her hands curl on the front of my shirt, bunching up the Indian cotton, and a gasp leaves her lips as I slip my fingers into her panties, following the line of her slim hipbone, down and down.
Right between her legs.
Oh fuck. Her panties are soaked, her folds slick, and she jerks under my hand. Need to fuck her now, but there are too many fucking layers of cloth between us.
Too much between us, and I need to take her now, but kissing her is so good I can’t stop. Swallowing the tiny moans she produces, feeling her slender body shudder, I push two fingers into her, fucking her in long, hard strokes.
Mine. You’re mine, Ray.
Another shudder and she tightens around my fingers, coming apart, her hips shimmying against mine, her breasts heaving, pressing into me. It’s so good I break the kiss and grit my teeth to keep from coming on the spot.
Her eyes are dry now, hazed with pleasure and undecipherable like the future. She’s panting, leaning back, her leg still curled around mine, a line of fire. She’s not looking into my face, though. For a brief moment she let me see her—tears, pain, pleasure and all—and now she’s closing up already.
No fucking way.
My leg twinges, warning me I should rest, put it up and ice it, but the hell I am. Without another word, I bend and lift her in my arms. She gasps and writhes, but I only tighten my hold, crushing her to me as I carry her into the room and throw her down on the bed.
“No girl has ever been here,” I tell her. “Only you. Do you hear me?”
In my room. In my bed. In my head.
Her eyes widen, and color rises to her face. She still won’t meet my gaze, though. Goddammit. Then I sit back and shrug off my shirt, discarding it quickly. Her eyes widen some more, going dark with desire. They skim over my chest, over the ink covering my sides, then drop lower, to the bulge in my dress pants.
She reaches for me, and I don’t let her. I’m in charge here, now. I grab her slim wrists, pin them over her head and keep them there one-handed.
“Look at me, Ray,” I whisper, my voice so hoarse with arousal I barely recognize it. “Stop trying to hide.”
She glares, defiantly staring over my shoulder at some point in the distance.
“Oh, baby.” I shake my head and chuckle, because at least she’s not ignoring me anymore. She may pretend all he likes, but her anger radiates off her like fire, scorching me. Turning me on so goddamn bad I have to keep still and think unsexy thoughts for a long moment to get myself back under control.
It almost works, but the sight of her lying underneath me in this conservative gray dress she’s wearing? Okay, I’ll be honest here. It’s driving me nuts. It’s so prim and proper I need to rip it off her.
Oh yeah, it has to go.
“Keep your hands there,” I growl like a damn caveman, and she obeys, barely blinking as I let go and grab the side of her dress. “Keep still.”
I rip the seam of the dress open. She squeals but doesn’t move as I rip the other side open, too, all the way up to the sleeve.
Not enough.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, breathless. “The dress—”
Digging my fingers into the opening, I rip the sleeve off, then pull it down and off her arm. Much better. I deal with the other one the same way and tear the dress off her.
She’s breathing hard, lips parted, the flush on her cheeks telling me she’s not scared. She’s excited.
And it makes me even harder. It’s a loop of desire. Her desire feeds mine, my cock swelling to the point of bursting and my balls growing heavy and taut, and a light flush spreads over her pretty tits, the nipples erect and dark. The scent of her arousal fills my senses. She lifts a hand, and I grab her wrists and pin them back over her head.
A tiny flare of anger flashes over her face, and then more arousal, and holy fuck, my cock twitches and leaks inside my pants.
I can’t. Hold back. Much longer.
“Take them off.” She moans when I bend over her and capture one nipple with my teeth, then soothe it with my tongue. “Your pants.”
“Tell me you want my cock in your mouth,” I rasp, switching to the other pretty breast and its sweet nipple. “In your pussy, so deep you’ll feel it everywhere.”
She gasps. Releasing her wrists again, I lick a trail between her tits down to her bellybutton, then lower. I press my mouth to the black lace of her panties, on her mound, and inhale her scent. Her breath hitches, and her hips roll, the pressure of my lips there teasing but not enough to get her off.
“Tell me, Ray. Tell me you want it.”
“I…” She squirms. “I want it.”
I grin. That’s it, baby. Work for it. Because deep inside you do want me. You do trust me. And I fucking need you.
Snagging the black lace of her panties with my teeth, I drag them down, glancing up at her as I do so. Her heavy-lidded expression captivates me. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips and Jesus Christ, I’m on overload. So it’s no surprise her panties go the way of the dress.
Easy. A quick flick over each hip and the tiny bit of lace holding them together is history. A fraction of a second later, I have them off her and push her legs apart.
“How badly do you want it?”
“Storm…” Frustration twists her pretty face. “Come on.”
“Say it.”
But then she turns the tables on me, because this is Ray we’re talking about. Always catching me off guard, making me hurt so good.
“I want you,” she whispers. “You, Storm.”
Shit, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. It’s her walls I’m trying to tear down. Not let her pull down mine.
You have me, Ray.
Suddenly, I can’t stand teasing her anymore. Can’t stand holding back and having any damn barrier left between our bodies. Frantic, I sit back and unbutton my pants, push them down and off me together with my briefs. I wrestle with my shoes and socks, and finally, mercifully everything is off.
My clothes drop to the floor, and I turn back to her, leaning over her. She’s so damn pretty. I wanted to eat up her pussy, then have her ride me again, but my balls are drawn up tight and my cock is so hard it hurts. The pressure is cranked up so high I might come before I even enter her.
No fucking way that’s happening. I’m gonna just—
She slips her arms around my neck, brushes her lips over mine and cants her hips upward, sliding against my thighs. One leg curls around my hip, the heel of her shoe driving into my muscle, a slight sting—and the head of my dick slips between her warm folds, swallowed into heat. A velvet vice, tightening around my cock, and the world around me fades.
It’s me and her, my body fitting into her body, our mouths coming together, crushing and melding and tasting. It feels so good. Mind-blowing. I’m doing this to prove something to her, but I can’t remember wha
t it was. As I drive deeper into her, and she moans in my mouth, as I thrust faster, the need to come is short-circuiting my brain.
Shit. This is insane. Never felt so good before. Never—
“God.” Her body arches into mine, her hard nipples pushing into my chest, and she ripples around my dick. She cries out, her hips rolling, and my whole body goes taut and tight.
“Fuck. Oh fuck.” A tiny part of my brain that’s still working rings the alarm. No condom. Fuck, no condom, no wonder it feels so good. “Goddammit.”
In the last second, I pull out of her, in one long drag that has me groaning and clenching my jaw so hard it creaks. Then everything goes white. My dick jerks, and I come like a goddamn fountain, my spunk splashing her breasts and belly, her shoulders and the covers.
Christ. Fuck. God.
I shake my head slowly from side to side, my vision hazy. She smiles up at me, her eyes bright, and I find myself smiling back.
Whoa.
How can sex with this girl get better every time? And even worse, why do I want to take her in my arms afterward and sleep with her taste in my mouth and her face pressed to my chest? It makes no sense at all.
But God, I want it. I want her like I never wanted anyone or anything before in my life. The realization is a punch to the gut, and I stare at her, frozen. I don’t just want her, dammit. It’s more than that, it’s—
The world goes bang.
Things rattle, the walls tremble, and something slams into my back. I drop on top of Ray to protect her from whatever the hell life has thrown our way this time as water sprays down on us from the sprinklers that just kicked in.
Fucking figures.
Just when I thought I was about to understand this mess.
***
“Storm. Storm!” She’s shaking me by the shoulders, her voice rising into a panicky pitch. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I blink and lift my head, then try a push-up, since I’m crushing her to the mattress. My ears are ringing. What the hell just happened? “You?”
Her hands lift to my face and rest on my cheeks, warm and small and light. “Fine.”
Ungluing myself from her pretty body, my cooling cum smeared between us, I sit up. My back stings as I shift to take stock of her. No missing limbs. No blood and gore. Her creamy skin looks unblemished.
But the ringing in my ears only grows louder, and the room dims again.
“Storm.” She’s shaking me again, dammit. “There’s a man at the door.”
What man? The question spins in my mind, but she says nothing and I’m not sure I asked it. Drawing myself back from the dark is hard. Feels like I’m lying in quagmire, the mud sucking at my limbs, at my head.
Bracing my hands on the mattress, by her sides, I try to sit up and I can’t. The copper tang of blood fills my nostrils.
Move, I think. Move, goddammit.
Blood. Gore. Noise. Pain. Danger. Over and over again, twisting into my life, snagging around my neck, pulling me down.
Shit. One more try and I sit back on my heels, my breath coming in harsh pants. Something warm is trickling down my back. Blood. No wonder I thought I could smell it.
Raylin leans back on the bed, covering her breasts with her hands. She’s staring over my shoulder, her eyes narrowed.
“Well, this is awkward,” a familiar male voice says from behind me. “Won’t you introduce us, Storm?”
“Rook.”
The bed dips when he sits down beside me and his face enters my field of vision. “In the flesh. Hawk told me you were on your way. Couldn’t wait to get the party started, could you?”
“Fuck you,” I spit at him, and he doesn’t even flinch. That’s what happens when someone knows you since you were at toddler. So much harder to intimidate them.
Damn Rook. Despite the fact his hair has been shaved to a dark shadow on his skull, in his pressed gray suit and polished shoes he’s every inch the successful business man.
He always did manage to pull that image off better than me and Hawk. Then again, his tattoo peeks over the starched collar of his white shirt. Red roses, with so many bloody thorns…
“Who is he?” Raylin whispers, trying to move away but unable to, trapped under me. “What happened? Was that a bomb?”
“Bomb? Nah.” Rook grins at Ray, giving her a once-over. “Storm here left the stove on.”
“Damn you, Rook.” I shove at him, anger clearing my head. “Get out and stop ogling my girl.”
Ray makes a funny sound, and Rook huffs.
What? “Ray, meet Rook, one of my best friends.”
She says nothing. Rook glances from her to me and back, his grin growing bigger.
What the fuck is wrong with these guys?
God, my head is killing me. My back aches. The stench of blood is still there, and every movement causes a fresh spill down my back. I start reaching over my shoulder to check, and Rook grabs my arm in a flash.
He lowers it, face locked in a dark scowl. “You’re bleeding, you moron. Wait for the doctor.”
I stare at him stupidly.
Raylin curls a hand around my forearm, eyes wide. “You’re hurt?”
“It’s nothing,” I mutter. I like the light pressure of her fingers on my flesh.
“I was inside the building when I heard the explosion,” Rook says. “I thought a doctor might come in handy, and it just so happens my family has one on the payroll.”
“Jeez,” Raylin mutters, releasing my arm to better cover her tits. I stare at the soft mounds straining over her folded arms and lick my lips, distracted. “Don’t get too worried about your best friend getting caught in an explosion. You might strain something.”
That makes me grin. Hey, she’s on my side.
“Didn’t call the police to avoid the vultures,” Rook says, ignoring her comment, but getting up and pulling an afghan from one of the chairs and throwing it to her. She wraps it around herself, glaring daggers. “Better keep them off our backs. Let’s last at least a day, huh? A day without reporters hanging outside your windows, snapping photos.”
God, yeah. And despite his cool attitude, I know he’s worried. But Rook doesn’t show much on the outside, unlike Hawk who wears his heart on his sleeve, twisted and dark as it is. Rook is cool and steady, a boiling, writhing mess that may explode at any moment.
Speaking of explosions…
“Someone’s after me.” I glare at him. “Told you, man.”
“Bullshit. You left the stove on. Ceramic exploded. Happens to everyone.”
“Fuck you, Rook. I didn’t turn on the stove. We ordered take-out, for chrissakes.”
“And you accidentally turned on the stove. It’s a touch pad. You probably had a little gas leak, too. You’re not being hunted, you’re being absent-minded and clumsy. Nothing new there, pal, so will you quit with the conspiracy theories?”
“You’re an asshole.” Maybe I was wrong. He’s not putting on a cold façade. He’s a bastard through and through. “Can you smell any gas, huh? I didn’t turn on the stove. And I’m not fucking clumsy.”
“And you shouldn’t say things like that to people who’ve known you since you wore a fucking bib.”
I suck a deep breath through my teeth, trying to calm down before I deck Rook. It wouldn’t be the first time we fought and ended up bloody.
Not a good time. I try to center myself. I fist my hands in the cover, feel the mattress dip under my shins, feel the goddamn wound in my back throb and bleed.
Fuck. My. Life.
That calming, centering thing? Not working.
“So you two are friends?” Ray clears her throat. “Like, for real?”
“Known him since he wore diapers,” Rook says with a sniff. “Kept falling over and knocking over the furniture. Which is why I’m saying: clumsy.” He lifts his chin, daring me to contradict him.
“All lies,” I mutter, although I can’t remember my childhood. My parents’ accident somehow erased my earlier memories. All that’s left is
that night, and even that…
“He didn’t learn to walk properly until he was four.”
“That’s a lie, right?” Ray asks but I see doubt in her eyes.
Doubt about me. About my allegations. About my fears.
I still want to punch Rook, but it seems he got the first hit in while I wasn’t looking. My gut is a knot. What if he’s right? I’ve considered the possibility so many times.
What if I’m wrong?
With a grunt, I heave myself off her and swing my legs off the bed to sit on the edge. “I need to see my lawyers.”
“Easy there, dragon.” Rook gets up and checks around the door. “Wait for the nice doc. And here.” He throws my pants at me. “Your dick’s hanging out. Don’t give the man a coronary.”
“You think he’ll get a coronary from seeing my dick?” I pull the pants over my lap but I’m not sure I can bend over to pull them on. “Doctors see dicks all the time.”
“Dicks like you are one in a million. Dickhead.” Rook shakes his head with a snort and leaves the room, presumably to check if the doctor is here.
“You have weird friends,” Raylin says, scooting forward until she’s kneeling by my side.
“Tell me about it.”
She swallows hard. “Storm, you… You have a piece of glass sticking out of your back. Oh my God.” She covers her mouth with her hand, her face paling.
“I’ll be fine.” I reach for her, kinda awkwardly because my upper back—or the piece of ceramic stuck in it—hurts like a mother, and I put an arm around her, drawing her to my side. “It doesn’t hurt,” I lie.
She’s quiet for a few seconds, snuggling closer. Her soft hair tickles my nose. It smells of roses.
So fitting.
“Could he be right?” she whispers.
“About what?” Despite the ache in my back and the throbbing in my head, her scent, her body pressed to mine manages what nothing else can. I start to relax, my lungs able to draw in more air.
“About this being an accident. About the stove.”
“He’s an ass. And we need to move out of here, hide somewhere.” But instead of moving, I close my eyes and rest my cheek on her hair, trying to imagine we’re the only people in the world and all the shit flying around us won’t hit us.