Heavy Metal (A Goddesses Rising Novel) (Entangled Select)

by Natalie J. Damschroder

  “Sam,” she whispered, arching her neck so he could nuzzle her.

  “Mmmhmm.” He sucked a little on her neck. She gasped and rose up, and he went with the move and slid his hand up to cup her breast. Riley had to bite back a cry of pleasure.

  Sam hung his head. His breath panted against her collarbone. “We should stop. Someone could see.” His voice was thick and urgent.

  “No.” Riley didn’t want to, and wouldn’t no matter the circumstances. “No one’s around. I want you, Sam.” She reached down and touched him through his jeans, and oh, God, he was so freaking hard. She went completely wet and shuddered, cupping her fingers around him.

  “Jesus.” Sam shoved her shirt up and her bra down so he could cover her nipple with his mouth. He tongued it, and this time Riley couldn’t hold back the cry. She thrust her hands into his hair and rocked under his body, her brain and vision blurring. Sam flicked open her jeans and pushed his hand inside. His long, strong fingers glided over her swollen clit and into her. She had to clamp down to keep from coming right then, and Sam cursed into her shoulder.

  “Sam, please. I want—” And then his fingers moved inside her, even confined by her jeans, and she went off, a quick, blinding orgasm that was a shower of golden light.

  …

  Sam had some faint belief, buried under the mindless need to devour Riley, that giving her pleasure was going to keep him from melting down. His own lust was under control. Barely. But the hard edge from the other night was gone. He wanted to keep the focus on her…and this time, he didn’t have to question whether or not she really wanted it. Her hands yanked at his buckle, and she wrapped one leg up around his hip. Her pelvis lifted against him, the smallest pressure making him throb.

  Then her hand was on his cock, skin to skin, and Sam’s brain completely fuzzed. His breath hissed out between his teeth, the only sound he could hear. He held himself up off Riley, fine sand on the deck grinding into his palms, his entire body taut while she stroked and squeezed.

  “Uhn. Stop. I’m gonna—” She froze just in time. Sam cursed again and reached for his back pocket with one hand before his brain recovered enough to realize there was nothing there. “Shit. I don’t have anything.”

  “I do.” It had grown too dark to see, but Sam heard the crinkle of a familiar packet, then a tearing noise, and a couple of seconds later, he shuddered as she slid the condom over him.

  “Where did you get that?” he managed through gritted teeth, holding on with all his power. He was going to be inside her when he came. Fuck, the anticipation of her wet heat was almost enough to make him come. He needed distraction.

  “Are you kidding?” Riley shimmied away enough to shuck her jeans, then slid back under him and curved her hands over his shoulders. “I’ve carried condoms since they handed them out in health class. It’s ‘part of being a responsible adult.’” She sounded like she was quoting someone, but Sam could barely hear what she was saying. Her bare thighs glided up his and cradled his hips.

  His body cramped, but a tiny warning went off and he held himself still. “You’ve had this since health class?”

  Her laugh purred through him. “No. I’ve had a condom since health class. This one is within expiration date.” She dug into his shoulders, her voice deepening, going huskier. “Come on, Sam. I want you inside me.”

  God. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He rolled them over so she was on top, and Riley threw her head back and arched her body. Her skin glowed in the faint light of the rising moon, her nipples dark and hard. She shifted to position herself over him, and he slid right in, a long, slow stroke that took him deeper than he thought he could go on the first thrust. It was incredible, so hot and wet and close and good.

  Energy thrummed in his body, as if doing this made the power happy. Sam thrust as slowly as he could, out, in, then a deeper, upward press that made Riley gasp. Sam absorbed everything—every moan of pleasure, each shift of her body, the silken heat of her skin where they touched, her softness, her tight wetness, the unbearably gorgeous smell of her. He coaxed her down to his chest, cradling her head and holding her tight.

  She closed her mouth on his neck and bit. His eyes rolled back, and he lost all sense of rhythm, pumped into her harder and harder, as pleasure coalesced, sharpened. It built, built, and burst, punching a shout out of him accompanied by a brilliant burst of light, a flash of intensity that seemed to draw him deeper into her. Her heartbeat was his heartbeat, the blood rushed through her veins at the same speed as his, her heaving lungs expanded his own chest.

  Riley shuddered, her body convulsing, closing around him as she came again. His orgasm continued, pulsing downward and drawing out every ounce of tension until he was a giant, boneless mass.

  Riley’s fingers stroked through his hair, soft, sweet, soothing. He inhaled her, registering the silky tickle of her hair against his cheek, her gentle pants past his ear, the slowing thump of her heartbeat and occasional spasm around him.

  Words crowded into Sam’s head. Words he’d only ever considered saying to one person in his entire life. He swallowed them back with considerable effort. Riley deserved better than heat of the moment. She deserved better than him, actually, but Sam wasn’t going to make decisions for her. He’d been on her side of that, and it sucked.

  When had anyone ever taken care of him like this? It was supposed to be his job to watch over everyone else. He’d made it his job, back when he enrolled in college and again when meeting Riley forced him out of limbo. But everything had gotten twisted around, and it was…nice. It felt good to share a burden, instead of taking on someone else’s. To have a person care about him so much she’d make sacrifices for him.

  Like sex on a scratchy, hard balcony.

  With that thought, reality restored itself. Sam had been so lost in Riley he’d stopped hearing the waves and feeling the floor. Sound and sensation rushed back now, along with the chill breeze. She had to be freezing. And they’d been gone a while. Nick might come looking for them.

  “Thank you,” he murmured.

  “Mmm.”

  Purely male pride made him smirk at the satisfaction in her hum. “Are you okay? I hope I didn’t crush you.”

  “No, but…” She leaned upward, and their bodies separated. “Sorry, I—” She froze, like a bunny on a lawn or a deer at the edge of the road.

  “Wha—”

  “Wait.”

  Sam waited. Riley stared into the dark, down toward the beach.

  “Someone’s here.” She barely whispered it, but a sharp edge came through anyway.

  Sam jerked as a buzz split the air. He didn’t clue in that it was his phone in his pocket, halfway down his thigh, until it buzzed again. He cursed and sat up, helping Riley to her feet. Her movements were frantic as she dragged her clothes back on.

  “Where?” Sam asked as he automatically checked the text.

  Where the hell are you guys? Nick.

  “Close,” she whispered back.

  Sam shoved the phone in his pocket and fastened his jeans. He grabbed her hand and they dashed around the corner to the back of the house. Sam headed for the bedroom he’d come out through, but something about the rail at the far end of the balcony caught his eye. He halted and stiffened his arm, keeping Riley behind him.

  “What is it?”

  Sam pointed at the odd shape in the darkness and eased them closer. He strained to hear any movement or other sounds, but the ocean surge was too loud.

  When they were several feet away, he saw that the shape was a grappling hook caught around the top of the rail. A rope dangled down the side. He stiffened and let go of Riley, urging her back. But she stuck close, her fist with the screw-ring upraised.

  All the doors were closed and the rest of the balcony empty, so Sam knew if someone had climbed up here, they must be around the far side of the house. He braced himself as he reached the corner, but even prepared, he couldn’t stop the blow. The heel of a hand whacked him under his chin—the move of a
smaller attacker on a bigger target. Sam’s teeth snapped together. He tasted blood, saw stars, and then pain radiated through his jaw and up over the top of his skull.

  But the attacker was an amateur. He’d only landed the blow because it was a sucker punch in the dark. Sam sent two quick punches where he estimated the other guy’s head to be. The first missed, but the second cut off the guy’s laugh. Something crunched under Sam’s knuckles, and a howl filled the air.

  Sam’s vision cleared, and despite the faintness of the moonlight, he recognized Anson on his knees, clutching his nose.

  “You son of a bitch!” Sam hauled him up by his collar. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  But Anson was in no shape to answer. Dark blood stained half his face and trickled over his fingers. He’d stopped howling but hung in Sam’s grip, clearly dazed.

  “Crap. Let’s go.” Sam motioned Riley to walk in front of him while he dragged Anson’s stumbling form. He couldn’t believe this guy used to be so fearsome.

  “Do you sense anyone else?” he asked Riley.

  “No, just him. But I don’t know my range.” She hurried ahead to pull the hall door open all the way.

  “Wait.” He shoved Anson into the hall and peered out past him, double checking. Light filtering up the stairs pushed back most of the shadows. The hallway was clear. He shoved Anson down, and the loser crumpled into a heap on the floor.

  Riley moved to his side. “What do we do?” she whispered.

  He turned to put his mouth against her ear for maximum silence and hesitated. Her shampoo was different, he noticed. But buried beneath the surface floweriness was Riley and, more importantly, Riley and him. His hand tightened possessively around her upper arm, and he had to close his eyes against the emotions rushing through him. He swallowed and remembered what was happening. They couldn’t assume Anson was alone.

  “Find some metal,” he whispered. She disappeared back into the bedroom and came back clutching a pair of silver candlesticks. Sam used hand motions to convey that she should stay up here with Anson. He didn’t want to leave them alone, but the guy hadn’t moved, and Riley loomed over him, gripping her fancy weapons. She nodded.

  Sam crept to the top of the stairs and paused, listening to intense silence. He had no sense of anyone downstairs. But he also had no weapons except for his fists, and a position that fully exposed him if he tried to get a line of sight into the living room.

  He had no choice. He inhaled slow and deep. He had to be a moving target. He barreled down the stairs and prepared to swing left, behind the wall. But nothing happened. The room was empty.

  Sam hurried toward the laptop, whose screen still showed Chloe’s place, all images still. Anson or Numina or whoever was supposed to have gone to her house. How the hell had Anson known to come here? And where were Nick and Quinn?

  The alarm was still armed and showing no breaches, so he hurried back upstairs to get Riley and the bastard. She stood over the weasel, a fierce-looking warrior with her tousled hair tumbling around her face and the candlesticks that, in the dim light, could almost have been short swords. Sam wanted to haul her up against him and kiss her, but even though Anson’s bloody face was still buried in his hands, Sam refused to give the man any ammunition, including revealing the extent of his relationship with Riley. Assuming the jerk hadn’t heard or seen them outside, but he thought that was a safe assumption, given Riley’s ability to detect his presence.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” He dragged the dirtbag to the stairs and forced him down into the great room. Quinn and Nick were just coming in through the door to the garage. Quinn held a couple bags of frozen vegetables, Nick a big package wrapped in white butcher paper. They stared, open-mouthed, as Sam dumped Anson in a dining room chair.

  “Should I tie him up?” Riley glared down at Anson and hefted one of her candlesticks. He huddled, still holding his face.

  “I don’t think that will be necessary.” Sam clenched his fists and tried not to break Anson’s face. Again.

  “What the hell?” Nick’s package thunked when he dropped it on the marble counter and walked out of the kitchen section. He stopped, hands on his hips, in front of Anson. “Where did this shit come from?”

  Sam explained how they’d discovered him. “Riley doesn’t detect anyone else around.”

  “Neither do I.” Quinn came to stand next to Nick and gazed coolly at the leech. “How did you find us? What are you doing here?”

  “Bleeding,” Anson said nasally. “I could use some ice.”

  Sam would have given him another injury to take his mind off the first, but Riley went into the kitchen, put ice in a baggie, wrapped it in a hand towel, and gave it to Anson.

  “Thank you.” He laid it gingerly against his face, wincing, and flashed Riley what he probably thought was his usual charming smile but looked rather gruesome. Riley’s expression didn’t change, but since Sam was watching closely, he saw revulsion in her eyes. That made him feel better about her giving comfort to the enemy. She was just playing the good cop side of things.

  “What are you doing here?” Sam demanded, looming over Anson, willing to use every ounce of intimidation he could get from his size and position. Nick folded his arms and silently backed him up.

  “Spring break,” Anson muttered from behind the towel-wrapped ice. He shook his head and studied the blood on the towel. “You broke my nose, you big ox.”

  “You deserved it. What did you think I’d do when you sucker-punched me?”

  Anson put the ice back and sat sullenly. Quinn leaned against the half wall behind her, and Nick grabbed a second chair, spun it around in front of Anson, and straddled it with his arms crossed over the top. He leaned forward slowly until it tilted, and Sam realized he’d set one leg on the toe of Anson’s shoe. Not directly on top of his foot, but the pressure still had to send an uncomfortable message.

  “You’ll answer all our questions,” Sam warned, “and maybe we won’t call the cops.” Riley made a slight, jerky movement that Sam noticed because his body still hummed for her, and she still held half his attention. He also felt Nick’s disapproval, but he held his ground. The tactic wouldn’t work if Anson didn’t believe it was possible.

  “What are you gonna tell the cops?” Anson challenged. “Look at me, and look at you!”

  Sam assumed he didn’t show any evidence of Anson’s smack on his chin, while the leech’s nose had swollen into a misshapen hunk, still oozing blood. That might work against him, but… “I have the witness on my side. A witness,” he continued when Anson opened his mouth, “you’ve been chasing all over the eastern seaboard. But hey, if that’s not enough for you.” He leaned forward. “Tell us, and maybe I won’t kill you.”

  Anson sighed and folded the towel to a clean spot, rewrapped the ice, and held it to his face again. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything,” Sam and Nick said at the same time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Strength is vital to success, and partnerships are essential to strength. Merging the talents of one party with the complementary skills of another can create mutual benefit. Join us, and gain access to better partnerships and greater success than you have ever thought possible.

  —Millinger.com

  Anson leaned back in the chair, faded-denim eyes narrowing with resentment. “Can I at least have a drink of water or something?”

  This time, Riley didn’t move. “Not until you start talking.” She kept her tone smooth and encouraging despite the tough words, and was gratified to see Sam’s mouth twitch. She retrieved one of the candlesticks she’d set down and waited.

  Anson heaved a great sigh and tossed the towel-wrapped ice on the table. “Fine. Ask away.” He folded his arms and stretched out his free leg, trying to look like he didn’t care about his situation. But Riley noticed he leaned away from Sam, and his eyes kept darting between him and Nick. He was more afraid than he let on.

&
nbsp; She wasn’t surprised when Sam started his questions all the way back at the beginning. He’d hinted at his guilt for the connection to the leech. “Back in college,” Sam said. “Were you working for Numina then?”

  Anson’s eyebrows went up, making him wince and grimace. He tentatively touched the bridge of his nose. “Uh, no. Not then. You’ve probably figured out the whole leeching thing, right?” He glanced around at them. “Why it works?” When they nodded, he continued. “I was adopted, but my grandmother stuck around. She wanted me to know about my mother and my heritage, but she wasn’t that powerful and could only teach me so much. I figured I could ‘bond’ with another son of a goddess and pick his brain, get an in to the community. I hacked the Society’s database, found other male descendants my age, and picked you.” He shrugged and rubbed at some dried blood on his hand. “Bad choice, as it turned out. You were too noble to be of much use after that.”

  It wasn’t hard to read between the lines. Jealous boy, resentful that he didn’t have the power he’d have had if he were a girl, seeking a way to take it instead of living a normal life and trying to be successful on his own merits. His methods made Riley’s skin crawl.

  “So you were always planning to leech a goddess,” Sam said with disgust.

  “Not from the beginning. But once I found out it could be done, I started planning.”

  “Why Marley?” Quinn asked. Riley glanced at her, relieved to find she didn’t seem to need the wall to hold her up. At least, not yet.

  Anson shrugged. “I liked her. That made it easier. You know she had to bestow power willingly, and that was going to be a challenge.” He gave Quinn a steady look that almost seemed sincere. “I didn’t intend to hurt her. She’d have been fine if you had left her alone.”

  Quinn snorted. “You can’t lay any guilt on me. You get full the responsibility for the damage.”