Snap Decision: The Originals (Seattle Steelheads Series Book 2)

by Jami Davenport

  “You like them?”

  “Hell, yeah, but I think we need to get to it.”

  “You wanna do it here or somewhere else?”

  Tyler hesitated, wrestled with control of his body, but his cock was winning the battle. His boy didn’t like waiting and didn’t believe in patience as a virtue. In fact, he didn’t believe in virtue at all.

  In the next room hung a picture of his father and several other men who’d served their country, including many who’d died doing just that.

  Hating himself for caring, for doing the right thing, Tyler straightened and backed up a step. “Yeah, it seems”—he struggled for the words—“wrong to do it here.”

  * * * * *

  Tyler had just done a noble thing, something Lavender didn’t want to acknowledge because it’d lower his asshole status. Instead, she followed him to the door. She flipped off the last of the lights and locked the door behind them. He grabbed her arm and hustled her down the sidewalk. He wrenched open the back door of his big-ass truck and tossed her inside. Zipping around, he crammed both front seats as far forward as they’d go to buy a little space.

  Lavender glanced out the windows of the truck, parked in the now-deserted back lot. Her wild-girl side trembled with anticipation. She loved sex with an edge, craved doing the forbidden, just to see if she’d get caught.

  The chances of anyone being on the streets this time of night were slim to none. Besides, they’d have to walk behind the building and press their faces up against the heavily tinted windows to see inside.

  Tyler crawled into the back seat with her. His large body dominated the cramped space.

  “Here?” she asked. The thrill of possibly being caught heightened her arousal. She ran her hands down his corded biceps.

  “Damn right.” He grinned his bad-boy grin, and her body would’ve followed him anywhere. With dark stubble and unruly hair, he not only fit that bad-boy mold, but he redefined it.

  “In the back of a truck? How high school.” She couldn’t help getting her digs in. The smartass remarks came naturally around him, and they upped the tension. Besides, judging by how his eyes darkened to midnight blue, he relished the conflict.

  “I have a cheerleader fantasy.” He sat on the edge of the seat and grinned at her. His sexy smile sent little shivers reverberating through her revved-up body. He picked up a lock of her hair and wrapped it around his long index finger.

  “Surely you’ve had plenty of cheerleaders in your day.”

  “Oh, yeah, starting my freshman year of high school, and plenty of them in the back seat. But I’ve never had a redheaded one.”

  “Hate to disappoint you, champ, but I was never a cheerleader.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. I bet you were out smoking behind the bleachers.”

  Lavender shrugged. “Maybe.” She’d been a bad girl, especially after the divorce, when she’d been hurting and wanted to make everyone else around her hurt. This wasn’t about the past or the future but the present, and getting satisfaction from a man bent on giving it to her.

  “Are you a natural redhead?”

  “You’ll have to find that out for yourself.”

  His gaze shifted to her crotch. He lifted his head and a 100 percent bad-boy smile spread across his face. “My dick can’t take much more of this. I want you now, then we’ll do it at a more leisurely pace in my bed.”

  “Oh, jock boy, you have such a wonderful way with words. It titillates me.”

  “You titillate me.”

  Lavender rolled her eyes. “Does this?” She grasped the bottom of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head.

  “Oh, damn. You are one hot mama.” He ran a long finger down her neck, her chest, and into her cleavage. He slid his hands behind her back and unfastened her bra with a practiced flip of his wrist, obviously a man experienced in getting a woman out of her clothes. Grasping the lacy bra, he tossed it into the front seat.

  Tyler’s quick intake of breath told her more than his words. He studied her breasts with reverence, an art collector appreciating a masterpiece. Lavender preened like a spoiled tabby under his worshipping gaze. She felt desired and desirable, an imperfect fairy-tale princess with her asshole Prince Charming, as surreal as any fantasy she’d ever had. And all of it in the back of a big-ass pickup truck in a parking lot in town. To hell with the golden carriage.

  “I love pierced nipples. It ups the stakes.” Tyler brushed a hand over her nipples, and a tremor shook her from her red head to her violet toenails.

  “In what way?”

  “Gives me more options. Stick around, honey. You’ll find out.” He fingered the little gold barbells running through each nipple. Lowering his head, he sucked a nipple into his sinful mouth. His tongue played with the little bar piercing her nipple. He tantalized and teased, sucking then licking with light little nips. Holding the creamy skin of her breast between his teeth, he drew it inside and left a small horizontal red mark on the flesh next to one nipple. She moaned and squirmed on the seat as he demonstrated his talents went beyond football. She’d had quite a few lovers, and some were extremely competent, but nothing like this man.

  Lavender threw her head back against the headrest and uttered a low groan. She couldn’t take much more of this or she’d blow apart, bones and all, until nothing remained but a quivering mass of lust. She wanted their first orgasm to happen with him inside her, despite the obvious fact he could make her come with just his mouth on her breasts.

  “Please. Tyler, I don’t want to come like this our first time. I want you inside me when I come. Take me. Hard. The harder the better.” She tilted her head downward and rubbed her chin across his short, dark hair. He angled his head to toy with her other nipple. She took advantage and nipped his earlobe.

  Tyler growled, a low, guttural caveman type growl. “The first time? You’re admitting there will be more than one time?” He drew back and studied her face. His blue eyes sparkled with lust and pure pleasure.

  Oh, crap. She’d blown her cover, but at this point in time, she didn’t give a shit. “I bet there’ll be more than one time tonight alone.”

  He nodded, hesitated, and frowned for a moment. “You do hate me, right?”

  “I love your body. We’ll keep it at that.”

  An unmistakable pained expression darkened his features for a moment, but disappeared so quickly she swore she imagined it. Puzzled, she searched his eyes but saw nothing but lust.

  “I want to make sure you understand this is about screwing. Nothing else. I don’t do relationships.”

  Ah, that explained it. The jock didn’t want her falling for him. “Haven’t you been listening? I can’t stand you. Even if I liked your mind and stellar personality, I don’t do emotional relationships with any man. This is sex. Pure, wild, headboard-slamming sex. Since neither one of us can stomach the other, it’ll be nice, safe sex with no strings.”

  “Nice? There won’t be anything nice about it. Do you do this often?” He frowned, almost as if he gave a shit about the answer.

  “Not as often as you.” She slipped her hands under his T-shirt and felt him up, delighting in the rock-hard planes of his muscles and rough texture of his chest hair.

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Honey, no one does it as often as me.”

  “I hope you practice safe sex.”

  He reached in his pocket and whipped out a condom, holding it up for her to see. “Never leave home without them.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “It shouldn’t. As you take every opportunity to remind me, I’m a dumb jock, and we walk around with our dicks hanging out all the time in a perpetual state of horniness.”

  “That about says it.” She shook off a twinge of remorse. Something in his tone troubled her, almost as if she’d hurt him with her callous declarations about his kind.

  After slipping the condom into the seat-back pocket, he unbuttoned the waistband of her jeans and pulled down the zipper. She lifted her h
ips, and he pulled them down her thighs.

  “Nice tat.” Bending his dark head, he kissed the tattoo of a hummingbird peeking out from under her bikini panties, below her left hip bone. Its little beak pointed toward heaven, and not the one in the sky.

  “You like it?”

  “Honey, I like everything about your body, especially those tits. I’d like to sample a little of your nectar.” His large index finger toyed with the elastic on her panties while his mouth went back for seconds on her breasts.

  She giggled, sounding way too much like an enamored teenager. In disgust, she turned away from him and composed herself.

  “I like yours, too.” Lavender squeezed his shoulder and the Rose Bowl tattoo then kissed the Ryan tattoo on his chest.

  A cloud passed over his face but the asshole quickly regained command. “I have one more on my ass.”

  “On your ass?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He grinned and unzipped his jeans. She licked her lips and reached for his waistband, helping him out of his jeans. A couple seconds later, he shucked his underwear and turned his butt toward her, difficult to do in the tight quarters. She stared at the fancy script on his butt spelling out the word ass.

  “It really does say ass.” It just figured the guy would tattoo the word ass on his butt.

  “You doubted me?” He struggled to untangle his long legs and shift his big body to face hers. “You’re still hating me, aren’t you?”

  “More than ever.”

  “Good. I’d hate to think you actually liked me.”

  “Never happen. Quit talking and get to work.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He grinned his bad-boy grin, which promised all sorts of carnal delights she couldn’t wait to sample.

  “Good thing you have a big truck with lots of room in the back seat.”

  “The biggest.” His bad-boy grin promised great things.

  He turned to fully face her, drawing her gaze to his cock. The man was hung like a draft horse. She’d had some big cocks in her life, but nothing like this guy. He pushed her down on the seat, his hips between her legs, his mouth even with her breasts. His big erection grazed her stomach.

  Her pussy wept with desire. Tyler started with her mouth and kissed his way back to her tits. The guy hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he was a tit man. His mouth latched on to her other nipple. Little prickles of pleasure shot through her. His teeth abraded the sensitive skin. He flattened the opposite nipple between a thumb and forefinger. He grasped the barbell and rotated his wrist in a slight twisting motion. She yelped in surprise, pinned to the seat by his big body.

  Lifting his head, he regarded her with lust-filled eyes. “I’m not much for vanilla sex.”

  “Neither am I.” Lavender gritted her teeth as he grasped her other nipple and twisted.

  “Once won’t be enough.”

  “No, it won’t.”

  “But right now, if I don’t bury this cock of mine inside that pussy of yours, I may just die.”

  “I wouldn’t want any trouble with the Steelheads. Do it, jock boy.” Retrieving the condom in the seat-back pocket, she tore the wrapper off. He reared up, supporting his weight with one strong arm braced on the seat beside her. She slid the condom onto the head of his cock and rolled it down his length. Tyler’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he grunted. She slipped her hands under his thighs and cupped his balls.

  “Ah, fuck. Don’t do that. I can’t hold out much longer.”

  Tyler gritted his teeth, the veins standing out in his neck. Lavender placed her hands on his waist and arched her hips, pressing them against him. He positioned his big cock at her dripping entrance. The head stretched her wide open. He paused, even though his clenched jaw looked ready to shatter.

  “I really don’t want to hurt you.” Each strained word sounded as if it was wrenched from his very soul.

  “Give it to me.”

  She flexed her hips and pushed him in a little deeper. It’d be a stretch, a difficult one, but the reward would be worth the pain. She moved her hips in a circular motion, knowing she was teasing him beyond all reason.

  “Take me. Hard.”

  Tyler’s control shattered. She saw it on his face. His muscles bunched, gathered, prepared themselves for ramming it home. She wrapped her legs around his waist and urged him on. With one hard, rough, powerful thrust, his huge cock stretched her tight little hole. A sharp pain cascaded through her, but only lasted a brief moment. She cried out but suspected he wasn’t capable of hearing anymore. He filled every part of her, not leaving one empty space. She felt him all the way to her womb. Her walls stretched to accommodate him. He stared down at her as he held himself inside her, appearing to savor the moment as much as her.

  He slid out and slammed into her again and raised her hips off the seat with each successive thrust. Her head tapped against the door as he drove into her body, relentless, demanding, and needy.

  She raked his shoulders with her fingernails and dug her heels into the small of his back. The man plunged into her, frenzied and out of control. He rode her hard, taking no prisoners. His mouth came down on hers, growing more crazed with every deep stroke of his cock. Their bodies slapped together. His harsh breath echoed her own.

  The orgasm built inside her, coming on swift and powerful, driving her out of her mind. Judging by his increased rhythm, his was near, too. She screamed her release, shouting his name over and over. Sweat poured off him and mingled with sweat on her body. Veins stood out on his neck, and his lips peeled back to reveal bared teeth.

  His cock jerked inside her several times. Her pussy tightened around him, as if it could hold him there forever. His hoarse shouts mingled with hers. Her body disintegrated and merged with his, as they shot toward the stars.

  Finally, their passions ebbed then floated back to earth.

  Tyler wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly in the back seat of his truck in a dark parking lot. Lavender closed her eyes and buried her face in his shoulder, allowing herself a few minutes to forget how much she disliked him.

  Chapter 12—In the Shotgun

  Lavender stirred in Tyler’s big bed—the guy didn’t do anything small—buried under a mound of blankets. One heck of a storm was blowing in off the ocean. Rain pelted the windows while wind rattled the mansion’s old bones. The old lady creaked and groaned but stood her course.

  In that place between waking and sleeping, Lavender recalled a night of incredible passion and intensity so strong it would have destroyed a weaker person. Despite being shrouded in mist, the dream seemed too real, right down to the ache between her legs, tenderized nipples, and bones turned to putty.

  She lay limp, her limbs too heavy to move, and processed everything in an attempt to separate fantasy from reality. Fantasy came in the form of emotions she didn’t want to examine. Reality came in the form of a large hand cupping one breast. A soft snore rumbled in her ear. A hairy chest rubbed against her back. A semi-erect cock pressed against her butt.

  Not a dream. She’d done untold things with and to Tyler Harris.

  And she wanted to do more.

  The object of her thoughts stirred but didn’t wake. Rolling onto his back, he stretched and smiled a lazy smile in his sleep.

  The man was pure male gorgeousness in the early-morning light. As his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, she ran an exploring hand over his abs and pecs. She relished the hardness, the sheer maleness of his long, lean body with its well-defined muscles.

  His dark lashes were sinfully long yet didn’t look the least bit feminine on him. Nothing on this man was feminine. He exuded 100 percent testosterone. His chiseled face belonged on the big screen or advertising for the All-American bad boy.

  She leaned forward and kissed the cleft in his chin, then brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. His unruly dark hair curled at the ends. She slid a finger across his stubble. Her breasts tingled as she recalled how his beard scraped across them as he sucked and licked her nipples, t
he proof of his deeds still visible by the red marks on her breasts.

  The two of them connected with combustible chemistry fueled by their differences and their similarities. All purely physical, of course.

  Lavender rarely lingered in bed with a man after he’d screwed their brains out. One or the other of them left before morning. Hell if she knew why she lingered now. If she had any intelligence, she’d yank on her clothes and head home. That way they could both pretend nothing happened, until the next time.

  She had little doubt there’d be a next time.

  With one last kiss to his cheek, she rolled into sitting position on the edge of the bed and wondered why she’d felt the urge to kiss him. Kissing on the cheek was a tenderness thing. Tenderness didn’t fit her view of recreational sex. She doubted it fit his. Whatever possessed her to give him a chaste kiss couldn’t, wouldn’t, happen again.

  Time to leave.

  Oh, crap. Her clothes were in his truck.

  A meow sounded behind her head. The orange tabby sat on the nightstand, grooming his pristine white paws.

  “How long have you been there?”

  The cat smirked, keeping to himself just how long he’d been there. “You watched us?”

  Smug and playing it cool, the cat jumped off the nightstand and sauntered from the room.

  “You little voyeur.”

  Next time, she’d insist Tyler shut the bedroom door. She looked back at a peaceful, sleeping Tyler. How he managed to look angelic and bad at the same time eluded her.

  Lavender loved how her small body fit with his big one. Instead of feeling overwhelmed, she was energized by his size and strength. Despite a level of danger to the man, she trusted him with her body. He’d never harm her physically.

  Never.

  Emotionally might be a different story.