Rush

by Molly McLain

  “Columbia.”

  “No shit?” He pulls back, brows raised. “Journalism?”

  I narrow my eyes. “Uh huh. Why the look?”

  He blinks and quickly casts his focus down at the water bubbling against the dark dusting of hair on his chest. “I don’t know, I guess I assumed you went to school in-state.”

  Kind of a big reaction for something so trivial, but whatever. “How about you?”

  “Got my undergrad from U of M.”

  “And you’ve been a contractor since?”

  Lifting a hand through the steam, he rubs the back of his neck. “More or less.”

  “You seem like you’d be good at the kind of thing. You’re good with your hands.”

  An unreadable expression passes over his face before he tips back a swig of beer and sniffs. “Yep.”

  Hmm. Either he’s a modest guy when it comes to his work or there’s far too much conversation going on here.

  “So, do you do this often?” I set my drink aside so I can push to the middle of the tub and face him.

  “This?” He arches an eyebrow again and his focus dances back and forth between my eyes and my chest. My bra is soaked and I suspect my nipples are visible through the pale pink lace. Typically, I’d be self-conscious, but with him, I’m just turned on.

  “Do you sweet talk many helpless women into this hot tub?” Beneath the surface, my hands find his calves, playful fingers gliding over his flexing muscles.

  “Not that kind of guy, Crash.”

  I want to believe him, but he’s just a little too smooth for that to be true.

  “Just so we’re clear...” Silently urging his knees apart, I slide between them and coast my hands up his chest. “It wouldn’t change my mind if you were.”

  “No?” He curls his arm my waist while I loop mine around his neck, pressing my breasts to his chest.

  “Sometimes a girl needs to live dangerously. Just for a little while.”

  “Is that so?” he rasps, setting his beer aside so he can put both hands on me. “Tell me more about that.”

  I laugh. “I’m twenty-seven, smart, and single.” And despite the little voice in my head that warns me to be careful, I jump. “I’m also very attracted to you.”

  A crooked grin curls at his mouth. “Oh, really?”

  “Mmm hmm.” My fingers glide over his hair, all the way from the shorter stuff at the bottom to the longer, messy locks up top. His mix of rugged sophistication is so damn sexy that it’s hard not to rub all over him.

  “What are you thinking about, gorgeous?”

  “You bring the naughty side out of me.”

  “Yeah?” In one quick motion, his knees fall to the side, his hands drop to my ass, and her jerks my hips against him. The hot press of his hardening cock against my stomach turns my gasp into a lusty sigh.

  “I’m impressed. ”

  His hips flex toward mine and his eyelashes lower hungrily. “Feeling’s mutual, Crash. We should probably do something about it.”

  Luckily, I know just where to start.

  Hands wound in his hair, I bring my lips to his. “How about that taste?”

  Chapter Five

  Kissing RJ is nothing like I expect. But isn’t that exactly what I should have expected? Considering how this day has gone?

  For several beats, he lets me run the show, slowly playing my mouth against his and letting me get used to the beard. Sweet of him, really, but my need for more than these inceptive kisses quickly chases away any discomfort.

  “RJ...” My plea is met with a knowing smile.

  “Yeah, beautiful?”

  “You’re killing me.”

  He chuckles, grips my jaw and pulls me impossibly closer. Raw hunger flames in his eyes as he drags a rough thumb across my lower lip. I half expect him to ask if I’m sure again, but this time there’s no question. Just the hard, searing crush of his lips to mine.

  His hands push into my hair as he takes complete ownership of my mouth. That’s the only way I can describe his all-consuming, yet giving kiss. It’s fast and slow, chaste and lingering, warm and wet and amazing all at the same time.

  But the moment his tongue teases against mine, all of those things meld together. He tastes like beer and something surprisingly sweet. Like my favorite chocolate and guiltiest pleasure.

  “Come here,” he rasps, breaking the kiss to stand and lift me out of the water. “Legs up,” he commands, and my limbs twist around his waist without hesitation.

  Whether it’s intentional or pure luck, my sex settles flush against his thick erection when he dips us beneath the water again. The heat from his body radiating into mine, paired with the growing ache between my legs, is delicious. It’s also not quite enough and he must feel it, too, because our hips instantly begin that timeless dance, pulsing against one another, seeking something deeper and more fulfilling.

  “Feels good,” he murmurs, nuzzling his lips against my jaw and then the sensitive spot behind my ear. “Kinda makes you wish underwear was never invented, doesn’t it?”

  I laugh. “Get out of my head, RJ Scott.”

  He chuckles, too, and suddenly his big, axe-swinging hands relocate from my butt to my breasts, stroking my pebbled nipples through my bra. “Bras, too.”

  “Ahhhh...” My moan disappears into the snowy darkness just as quickly as he rids of me of the inconvenient lace and blindly tosses it onto the deck.

  “Fucking pretty.”

  “Fucking cold,” I gasp, the frigid air puckering the tips of my breasts even tighter.

  “I’ll warm you up,” he husks, gently circling his thumbs around the aching nubs and then lifting one and then the other to his lips, sucking me into his mouth and driving me freaking crazy with his tongue.

  “Unggg...” The throaty groan rises in my chest and I roll my head to the side so I can watch him torment me. He’s watching me, too, and I freaking love the determination in his eyes. That unadulterated male pride. Popping a nipple from between his lips, he pulls back and a crooked, all-too-pleased grin slashes across his face. When I follow his gaze, I see why.

  Not only are my nipples a violated, cherry red, but the skin around them is just as pink.

  My first thought is how that burn is going to hurt-so-good between my thighs.

  My second is how quickly I can get him on board.

  “Sorry about that,” he lies, and I’m just about to suggest a way he can make it up to me when the unmistakable roar of a truck shakes the quiet night.

  I freeze and RJ’s head drops to my chest. “Motherfucker.”

  “Coming here?” I jerk away from him, my arms instantly protecting myself. He nods and scrubs a hand down his face. “Who?”

  “Ben. My buddy with the tow truck.”

  “But it’s late.” And I was close. So. Close.

  “Yeah, he’s an asshole.” Grumbling, RJ helps me out of the hot tub and back into the discarded robe. “Why don’t you hop in the shower and get rinsed off? I’ll deal with him and the car.”

  But...

  “Come on, Crash, let’s get you inside.”

  I want to protest—for no reason than we haven’t finished what we started—but snow already crunches beneath tires in the front yard.

  I pout all the way to the bathroom, resenting Eddie’s obvious excitement for a visitor, and close the door behind me with a sigh. Two minutes later, a shadow passes in front of the frosted bathroom window and boots pound on the front porch.

  Please, God, find RJ some pants. One look at him and his friend is going to know exactly how he’s been entertaining his unexpected guest. I’ll never be able to look the guy in the eye.

  A smirk twitches on my lips as masculine voices drift down the hall. With the door closed, I can’t tell what they’re saying and shut down the urge to eavesdrop, just in case the conversation turns to me. I really don’t want to hear RJ’s excuse...or his friend’s assumption.

  Instead, I shed the robe and my panties and climb into
the shower. The first spray of warm water against my broken skin sends jolts of sensation racing down my spine, but it’s not the sting I anticipated. No, it’s that blissful pained pleasure all over again and it’s amazing.

  You’ve turned into a sadist, a sneering voice in my head says. A slutty, little sadist.

  I laugh at the opinionated bitch, let the water soak through my hair and over my body, and then I greedily turn back to the spray, my bottom lip clasped between my teeth to keep any accidental moans to myself.

  It seems impolite—naughty even—to get myself off in a strange cabin with a strange man and his friend only a room away. But why the hell not? I’ve already let RJ touch me. Touching myself at this point is benign.

  One breast in hand, I roll the tender peak between my fingers, silently gasping at the zing of exhilaration that tugs between my nipple and my aroused, but neglected sex.

  He never got to touch me there.

  But that doesn’t mean I can’t. Right?

  My fingers make the decision for me, teasing at my other nipple for just a moment before taking a languid journey down to my ribs and then over the curve of my waist...and lower. My fingertips graze the small triangle of hair nestled between my legs, right where the hood of my—

  “You thought I’d leave you unsatisfied?”

  “Shit!” I startle once and then a second time when RJ, now dressed in jeans, yanks the shower curtain open and his gaze immediately falls to my guilty hand. A ghost of a grin curls at his lips, but then something far less amused passes over his face, hardening those already rugged features.

  “You did, didn’t you?” With that stormy, unreadable expression, it’s like we’re back at square one again, standing in the yard with an axe between us.

  I have no idea what to expect and that scares the shit out of me.

  “Goddammit, Crash,” he growls and, in seconds, he’s in the shower behind me and roughly turning me to face him.

  Sweet God, he’s still wearing his jeans.

  “I don’t start shit I can’t finish,” he snarls, his eyes wild like they were outside, but with a glimmer of something else burning there, too. Anger? Disappointment? Arrogance?

  “W-what do you mean?”

  “You know damn well what I mean,” he snaps, and I barely have time to blink, let alone breathe, before his hands wind in my hair and he tugs my face to his, his mouth devouring mine.

  This kiss... God, I can’t even call it that. It’s...pure punishment. Raw frustration. Undeniable intent.

  He wasn’t done with me. Clearly I was foolish to think otherwise.

  He groans as he consumes me and all I can do is hold on tight, feeling his hands everywhere. My hair, my shoulders, my back... Circling my waist and then sliding down to my ass, so his fingers can dig deep into my cheeks while he jerks me close and brands my stomach with the hot press of his erection.

  When the hell did his jeans come undone?

  “You did that,” he seethes through clenched teeth, and I swear to God my eyes roll back in my head, as his hips flex and he rubs himself purposefully against me.

  Oh, yes. He needs to get off just as badly as I do. That’s what this is all about.

  “I’m sorry.” But I’m also damn glad he’s back.

  “The only thing you should be sorry for is thinking I wouldn’t make you come.” His hand cracks across my ass and I hiss. “We clear on that, Crash?”

  Crystal. Somehow, I manage to nod.

  “Turn around again.”

  Even though I want to touch him, I do as I’m told. Sadist? Yeah, I guess I am.

  “Hands on the stall,” he barks again, and I abide, unsuccessfully biting back a cry when his palm connects with my other cheek. “Good girl.”

  To my surprise, his touch quickly goes soft, massaging where I imagine he’s left marks. To add fuel to the already roaring flames, he lowers his mouth to the back of my neck and sucks just hard enough to burn before soothing the spot with a tender tongue.

  I can’t keep up with all of these contradictions. My mind spins and my body hums and I’m positive I’ve never been so confused—and simultaneously turned on—in my life.

  I want him.

  I should tell him this is crazy.

  I need more.

  But I already know one night won’t be enough.

  “Spread your legs,” he husks, one hand kneading my breast while the other clamps ominously onto my hip.

  I know what’s going to happen, just like I know both regret and satisfaction will greet me head on in the morning, no matter how far I let him take me.

  Might as well enjoy the ride.

  Shifting my feet as far apart as the bathtub will allow, I give my ass a little pop into his lap. He grunts, tightens his grip on me, and thrusts his cock along my cheeks.

  “Now, that wasn’t nice.” He growls and possessively curls his big body over my back. His hips continue to flex and tease, the denim from his jeans rubbing against the back of my thighs. “Only good girls get to come, Crash. Don’t make me walk away from you a second time.”

  “Please don’t,” I whimper, and his chuckle vibrates against the frantic pulse in my neck.

  “You begging?”

  Hell, yes, I am.

  “What should I do if I stay?”

  “Keep touching me.”

  “Here?” He pinches my nipple and I rear up with a hiss. “How about here?” He tweaks the other bud and blood rushes hot in my ears, just like does between my legs.

  “O-other places, too.” My God, he’s going to kill me.

  “Here.” He smooths a hand over my ass, but I groan in frustration. “No? How about you tell me where you want me then, gorgeous?”

  Dammit, he’s taunting me. As if his wicked mouth and cruel bump and grind game in the hot tub weren’t enough.

  “I-inside,” I plead. “Please.”

  “Hmm...” The hand on my hip loosens and takes a slow, torturous journey down to my thigh. His long fingers are both heaven and hell, almost touching my sex on the descent, but not quite. “You think you’ve behaved enough for that?”

  Arghhh! “Dammit, RJ!”

  He laughs and then finally—finally!—strums his fingertips across the cleft of my sex, where my clit has already come out to play. “I think you want me here,” he breathes in my ear, dragging his fingers back and forth in the slowest, most exquisite form of torture ever. The taunting touch is nothing more than a whisper, almost intentionally missing my most sensitive spot with every pass.

  How is it that he’s barely touching me—not even where I need him—and I’m already right there?

  “Breathe,” his low voice rasps in my ear, and I somehow nod, exhale roughly and suck in another desperate breath. The air isn’t enough. None of it is freaking enough.

  “I’ll get you there, Crash.” His tone is lighter, promising, and those knowing lips are on my neck again, teasing, playing...tormenting. “Trust me.”

  The scary thing is that I do. It’s wild and crazy and probably foolish, but I do.

  “Please,” I plead, cutting my vulnerability wide open and laying it at his feet.

  “I got you, baby,” he whispers, and the confidence and promise in his words... The way he holds me, like he knows I’d melt to nothing if he let go...

  It’s everything.

  He shifts us quickly, so his back is against the rear of the stall and I’m suspended off the floor of the tub, my full weight braced against him.

  “Foot up.” Kissing my neck, he urges one leg onto the edge of the tub, opening me to him and to the water. “I wish I could see you,” he murmurs, as his fingers slide between my folds, finally giving me a taste of the friction I crave. “I bet you’re fucking beautiful.”

  I whimper. I’m not capable of more.

  “No one does this for you?” The pad of his thumb strokes over my clit and my head lolls back against his shoulder, stars glowing behind my eyelids. “Such a shame,” he adds, gliding down to my opening and
back up again, circling...teasing. “Though I kinda liked seeing you touch yourself, knowing you were thinking about me.”

  I gasp when he pushes a finger inside and then moan when he adds a second. “RJ...”

  “I really like hearing you say my name like that.” He pumps in and out, working my clit with his thumb, while rock my hips against his touch. “Say it again, gorgeous.”

  “RJ,” I pant. God, when he crooks those fingers just right... “Please don’t stop.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it.”

  And he doesn’t. Instead, he presses his lips to the pulse in my neck and slides a third finger inside. Even with the shower running, there’s no mistaking how wet I am. The sound alone gives me away.

  “So fucking sexy,” he grits out and rewards me with a rougher hand. Fingers driving faster, deeper, while the heel of his hand grinds against all the right nerves. I instinctively bear down on him and the growl that vibrates in his chest is 100% feral. “That’s it, baby. Make yourself come.”

  I scream as those hovering stars light up behind my eyelids and my body clenches around his fingers in a wave of bone-shaking spasms.

  “Fucking beautiful,” he praises me again, lips and beard pressed against my temple as his ministrations slow but don’t stop. He lets me enjoy every last, sated pulse until I’m boneless in his arms.

  I smile to myself and sigh, feeling a contentment I haven’t felt in far too long. It’s one thing to get off alone, but it’s something entirely different with the help of a hot, sexy man.

  “Thank you.” I wiggle out of his arms, turn, and toe up to kiss him, slow and sweet. He closes his eyes and lifts his hands to my face, while mine play on his chest, teasing through the hair there before impatiently moving south.

  His cock is a straight arrow, rising proudly from his open jeans and I’m not shy about making my intentions known.

  I wrap my hand around him, shivering anxiously from the weight of him alone, as I being to stroke. He groans, and visions of his pleasured expression when I put my mouth on him flash across my mind.

  That’s what I want.

  Not sex or even to come again myself.

  I want RJ in my mouth, hot and heavy against my tongue.