Wrong for Me

by Jackie Ashenden

  She shuddered at the touch, every nerve ending sensitized. “Yes.” Because it was. She was. Somewhere deep inside, she’d always wanted to be.

  “Yeah, that’s right. You are.” His hands slipped beneath her thighs, lifting them, and then there was warm cotton and shifting, powerful muscle along the backs of her legs, hot breath feathering against her exquisitely sensitive skin.

  Oh God . . .

  “Where do you want my tongue?” Hot palms sliding up to cup her butt in blatant possession, making her shift in his hold and arch her back again. “Tell me what to do, sweetheart. Tell me where you want it.”

  Her fear had dropped away now, her body relaxing into his touch.

  She swallowed and stuttered shakily. “I w-want it . . . on me.”

  “Where?” His thumbs slid up her sex, gently spreading her soft flesh like the petals of a rose. “Exactly. Tell me exactly.”

  Evan never did this. He never touched you like this. Never spoke to you like this.

  The thought was brilliant and clear in her head. No, he hadn’t because their arrangement had been for his pleasure, not hers.

  But this was for her.

  Unless Levi was planning to use that pleasure to hurt her again.

  She began to tremble, Levi’s breath against her making it worse. Because she didn’t think she could bear it if he did. “Don’t . . . leave me l-like . . . you did before. At Gideon’s.” There was a husky note of desperation in her voice, and she couldn’t seem to make it sound any less stark. “Don’t . . . use this as a punishment. Please.”

  God, she was pathetic.

  He was silent, and, with the blindfold on, she had no idea what that meant, though she thought she heard him curse. Then he said softly, “No. I won’t. I promise.”

  His promise. Another relic of a past that was dead and gone. Yet just like that, what was left of her fear, what was left of her resistance, all melted away, as if he were still the one person she trusted most in the world.

  “This is for me,” he went on. “Not going to lie. But it’s also for you.” His mouth brushed her inner thigh, his voice deepening, becoming even rougher. “Now . . . you haven’t told me where you want my tongue.”

  “I want it in . . . my pussy.” This time she didn’t care how husky she sounded. “I want you to lick me, make me come. Please, Levi. Please . . .”

  “Good girl.” There was rough heat in the words and something else. Approval. He’d said that to her before, too, up against that wall. “Such a good girl.” She shivered, feeling the roughness of stubble along her inner thighs as he rubbed his jaw against her tender skin. “You need me, don’t you?”

  Something empty yawned wide inside her, an emptiness she’d been trying desperately to pretend wasn’t there. “I do.” A cracked sound. “I do need you.”

  He kept pushing. “You missed me, too.” The rough feel of his jaw was replaced by the softness of his mouth, kisses up her inner thigh. “You missed me a lot.” The thread of hot emotion wound through his voice again, edged with a desperation that sounded an awful lot like her own. Almost as if he wasn’t telling her what she felt, but asking her if she did . . . You missed me? You missed me a lot?

  The material of her blindfold felt wet. God, was she crying? “Every day.”

  “You don’t need to anymore.” That soft, dark note in his voice was full of intent, full of certainty. “I’m here now, Sunny. I’m here.”

  Then there was no more talking, his wicked tongue gliding straight up the center of her pussy in a long, leisurely lick, tearing a hoarse scream from her, the pleasure wild and electric as a lightning storm.

  His fingers dug into the tender flesh of her buttocks, his grip hard, and he pushed his tongue deep inside her, making her pant and cry out his name as pleasure arced and crackled over the entire length of her body.

  She couldn’t keep her hands where they were any longer, reaching down and finding the thick silk of his hair, pushing her fingers into it and holding on for dear life.

  “Fuck, you taste good,” he whispered huskily. “Hot and sweet.” He gave her another lick, his tongue circling her clit, drawing a sob from her. “I used to imagine what your pussy would taste like and what you’d do when I finally got my tongue on you. How you’d sound.” His fingers squeezed her buttocks, making her back arch even more. “I wanted to make you scream my name. I wanted to make you cry. And you’re going to do both, aren’t you?”

  But she couldn’t form words anymore, and, when his tongue pushed back into her sex, she could barely even think. He fucked her with his tongue, slow and deep, taking his time. And then he used his fingers, adding pressure to her clit until she was shaking so badly she couldn’t stop, his name a sob in her throat.

  He didn’t need to tell her to beg, the words came out of her all on their own, hoarse and desperate, her fingers curled tight in his hair, the warmth and solidity of him holding her up, grounding her as the pleasure expanded inside her, getting hotter, more intense.

  She was a firework, and all she needed was a lighted match to go up. She’d fly all the way to the fucking moon.

  And then that terrible, wicked tongue of his provided the spark, the pressure of his thumb the flame. And she ignited.

  Not falling, but shooting up into the wide-open freedom of the sky as the orgasm broke over her, a streaking, brilliant comet, a roman candle in the night. Flaming in ecstasy, only to drift back slowly to earth.

  It took her a long time to come back to herself, to remember where she was, hearing the echo of her own scream in the silence of the room.

  At another time that would have embarrassed her, but there was no time for that. No time to even try to get herself together, because she could feel Levi moving. There came the rustle of fabric and the sound of a zipper being undone. And then bright light stabbed her eyes as he leaned forward and ripped off her blindfold.

  She turned her head instinctively, flinging an arm over her face, but he pulled it away. She didn’t resist, blinking hard, trying to get her breath back. Trying to get her whole goddamned mind back. Because she was pretty sure he’d just made her lose it.

  Then, as her vision cleared, he made her lose it all over again.

  He was kneeling between her spread thighs, naked. And he was just so fucking beautiful she couldn’t look away.

  Smooth, dark golden skin. Each muscle perfectly outlined and exquisitely carved. Wide shoulders, broad chest, his stomach ridged and hard. Narrow hips and crisp, dark blond hair leading down to his cock, hard and ready for her.

  Jesus, he was perfect. Utterly perfect.

  She was shaking from the intensity of the orgasm, and she could feel wetness on her cheeks, and there was a small, frightened, lost part of her that wanted to run away and hide, protect herself. Because surely this kind of beauty wasn’t for her, could never be for her.

  He was always too good for you.

  But she didn’t want that voice in her head, not now. Because he was here, looking at her, his face taut and intense and hungry. The dark and light of his eyes glittering. And she found herself reaching out to him, desperate to touch, and yet half-afraid that, if she did, he might vanish or pull away.

  Perhaps he sensed her uncertainty because he took her wrist and guided her hand to his chest, her breath catching at the feel of warm skin like oiled silk beneath her fingertips. She could feel the flex and release of all that hard, delicious muscle too, as she trailed her fingers over his chest, then down further over the dips and hollows of his abs.

  He made a sound, harsh and guttural, as she reached further down, his grip on her wrist tightening. “No,” he said. “Jesus, not now.”

  She looked up at him, suddenly feeling desperate and not too proud to beg. Hell, she’d been doing so ever since he’d laid her down on the damn couch. “Please. I want to touch you.”

  “I said no.”

  His gaze was fierce on hers, and she could hardly meet it.

  “I thought you weren’t going to
punish me?” she asked, unable to help herself.

  “It’s not that. I just can’t have you touching me right now.” He looked away, down at something he held in his hand. A condom. With a series of short, sharp movements, he ripped open the packet, then rolled the condom on. Then he raised his gaze to hers again. “I’ve been celibate for eight years, and, you touch my dick now, I’m going to explode.”

  Oh. Right.

  He leaned over her, one hand gripping the arm of the couch near her head, and she shivered uncontrollably, because he was so close. That hard, hot wall of muscle over her, the musk of sex and the spice of his aftershave heady in the air around them. His gaze, so intense, staring into hers.

  Keeping his hand by her head, he reached down with the other and slid it beneath her thigh, raising her leg up high and around his waist. The head of his cock pushed against the entrance of her body, making the breath catch in her throat. All it would take would be a shift of her hips, just a little . . .

  “Sneaky girl,” he murmured. “Not yet. When I say.”

  She quivered, the pressure of him right there maddening. “Levi . . .”

  “You want me to fuck you, Sunshine?”

  She looked up at him, into his eyes. Shadows and light, because that was Levi. The light of her long-gone friend, the shadow of the man he was now. And for a moment she didn’t know which one she wanted more. “Yes,” she said thickly. “I want you to fuck me. Right now. Please, Levi. God, please.”

  He shifted his hips, teasing her, pressing his cock against her clit, gliding it, sending jolts of pleasure through her. “Maybe I should make you wait. Keep you here all night without any satisfaction.” He flexed his hips again, and she gasped, another white-hot spear of pleasure piercing her. “I could do that. I could play with that little pussy until you’re desperate. Until you can’t think of anything else but my cock inside you.”

  She panted, trembling. Wanting to move and yet holding herself still because he’d told her not to move. “You p-promised me you wouldn’t.”

  But then he lowered his head, his mouth so close to hers, his eyes inches away. Watching her. “Yeah, I did.” Then he shifted a third time, pushing inside her slow and deep, drawing a ragged gasp from her as her whole body arched upward, pleasure rising like a sweet, dark fire. “And I keep my promises.”

  “Levi.” Her voice was shaking, a hoarse whisper. “Oh my God, Levi.”

  But that was all she managed to say because he covered her mouth with his, the kiss as deep and as wet and as carnal as the feel of his cock inside her.

  He moved, slowly at first, a rhythm that had her curling her leg tighter around him, tilting her hips so he could go deeper. Then he moved faster, harder, his kiss hungry, demanding.

  She lifted her hands to his shoulders and ran them down his spine, feeling the massive muscles of his back shift beneath her touch, pressing her body hard against the incredible heat of his.

  He lifted his mouth from hers, came up on his hands, bracing himself above her, thrusting harder, driving into her, shoving her against the arm of the couch with each thrust.

  The burn of pleasure was so fierce she couldn’t move, could barely breathe, could only lie there and take it, staring up into his eyes. There was fury there and hunger and desperation, and something else she didn’t recognize. Something intense.

  Then he changed the angle of his thrust, hitting her clit with each stroke, making her sob, making her scream, the dark intensity in his eyes growing darker, deeper. A fire of need, flames leaping high. Engulfing both of them.

  She screamed again when the climax hit, when she felt herself shatter into pieces. And the only thing that kept her together was his arms.

  Chapter 11

  Levi woke up hard and ready—pretty much like every other morning. But this morning was different. There was a woman in his arms, soft and warm, her scent musky-sweet and totally delicious.

  Rachel.

  Her back was against his front, and he had his arms wound around her waist, holding her close. The curve of her butt fit nicely against his groin, pressing along the length of his dick, which only added to his satisfaction with the entire situation.

  In fact, he couldn’t think of a morning when he’d woken up feeling better than he did right now. Made a nice change from waking to the sounds of his cellmate jerking himself off in the bunk above.

  Levi turned his face into the wealth of silky black hair that flowed down her back, inhaling the delicious, sensual scent of her.

  Last night had been incredible. There was no other word for it. The feel of her. The taste of her. The shock of pleasure when she’d touched him, when she’d come around him . . . Christ. Every single goddamn thing had been just as he’d dreamed. No, God, she’d been better than any of his dreams.

  After she’d given up everything to him on the couch, he’d picked her up, carried her into the bedroom, dumped her on the new bed, and they had then proceeded to christen it pretty thoroughly. Half the night even.

  Which should have meant he’d be pretty sated now, and yet he wasn’t. He was just as hungry for her now as he had been the night before.

  Well, he had a lot of time to make up for, not to mention years of fantasies to live out.

  He ran a hand down her side, her skin smooth and silken beneath his palm, and she made a sleepy sound, rolling onto her back, turning her face toward him.

  Her eyes were closed, long, thick lashes lying still on her cheeks. And he couldn’t stop looking at the soft pout of her mouth, all red from last night’s kisses. There were faint marks on the pale skin of her throat and, further down, on her breasts.

  He liked having his marks on her body, especially where people could see them. It made her his. And if that made him some kind of primitive Neanderthal, then shit, he was a primitive Neanderthal.

  Bending his head, he nuzzled her throat gently, then moved further down to the rose petals inked across her chest, falling from the drooping rose that covered her shoulder. They were pretty, and yet there was something sad about them too. A rose dying and dropping its petals . . . She hadn’t had those tattoos when he’d left.

  He traced one with his finger. What the hell did they mean?

  She’d laid a lot of stuff on him last night, first all that crap about wanting the building, then accusing him of not taking any responsibility for what he’d done to that fucking dealer. Which was bullshit.

  But was it, really?

  He shoved that thought away, far, far away, concentrating instead on her tattoo, tracing it over and over.

  She’d also been trying to distance him, which he didn’t like, not one bit. Her being all guarded and protecting herself wasn’t what he’d envisaged.

  Are you surprised, given the way you’ve been acting toward her?

  The thought made his gut feel unsettled and his chest tight. Yeah, he’d been a prick to her; he knew that. But he’d had good reason. She was why he’d done time. And then to add insult to injury, she’d ignored him for so goddamn long. Years and fucking years.

  He slid his finger to the next petal, stroking.

  She’d made him promise not to punish her again the way he had at Gideon’s, and there had been a note in her voice, a raw plea that had cut through him like the edge of a razor. That vulnerability had made him confess stuff too, stuff he hadn’t meant to say, “You missed me.” And then she’d said, “Every day.”

  His finger stopped, resting on her skin, the tightness in his chest suddenly enough to make him almost stop breathing.

  How could she have missed him? When she hadn’t even cared enough to visit? That made fuck-all sense.

  At that moment Rachel made another sound, her back arching as if she were seeking more of his touch.

  He forced the tight feeling away, concentrating on the satisfaction instead. Yeah, this was more like it. She couldn’t hold out on him now, and she wasn’t going to ever again, not if he could help it. Not with this chemistry between them. He’d always know
n it would be incendiary when they finally got together, and he hadn’t been wrong.

  Glancing down into her sleeping face, he let his finger trail down over the curve of her breast, circling one hardening nipple. She sighed, her lashes fluttering. She was close to waking now.

  He circled her nipple again, watching the color rise under her skin and her mouth open, pleasure flickering across her lovely face. She wasn’t fighting it like she’d fought it the night before, holding out on him right to the last minute. At the time he’d been so hungry for her surrender, he hadn’t thought to ask why that was.

  Maybe you should?

  Yeah, maybe he should. Because whatever the reason was, he needed it dealt with. Rachel warm, willing, and wet, and in his bed was absolutely nonnegotiable, and anything that interfered with that had to be gotten rid of.

  He bent his head, kissed one of the petals on her chest, felt her shift restlessly beneath his mouth.

  “Levi?”

  Thank Christ. She’d finally woken up.

  “Good morning.” He kissed the next petal, lazily circling her nipple with his finger at the same time. “Was wondering when you were going to wake up.”

  “Hmmm. What time is it?”

  Did it matter? He didn’t have anything on his agenda for the day. He’d planned to meet with Ryan so the guy could get a look at the neighborhood and Levi could talk through his ideas, but that wasn’t until next week.

  Not that he was going to tell Rachel about those plans quite yet. He wanted to get everything signed off on first. And besides, if he told her about his ideas for development, she might say something to Gideon, and Levi definitely didn’t want Gideon involved. At least not until Levi had gotten the investment dollars confirmed at the very least.

  Levi rolled over to glance at the clock on the heavy wooden nightstand beside the bed.

  Eight o’clock. Thank fuck for that. Plenty of time to deal with the morning hard-on that was becoming quite insistent.

  “It’s eight,” he said, turning back to her. “No need to get up yet.”