by Lilli Feisty
He did. He moved to her breast and bit the soft flesh just above her nipple, biting as he fucked her, again and again, sliding across the floor, wild.
“Yes! Just fuck me, Ash; fuck me so hard. Take me…”
“I will,” he said. “You’re mine to use right now, aren’t you?” He had no idea where the words were coming from, but he couldn’t stop them. “Right this minute, you belong to me.”
She thrashed her head from side to side. “Yes. Yours. Use me, Ash.”
“I will.” He bit her nipple, his teeth clamping onto her as she bucked against him. “I am.”
He couldn’t stop himself, and she seemed to respond to his loss of control. For the first time he could ever remember, he made love to a woman and didn’t worry about restraining his own pleasure. Because this was what turned Joy on, feeling him fuck her. Use her.
She was beautiful beneath him.
“Joy, I want you to come. Now.” He bit, drove in deep, moved her body a few more inches across the floor. She screamed, and he felt her clench around his cock, pulling another climax out of him. “Mine, Joy.” He heard the words coming from his own mouth as he pumped his seed into her, couldn’t stop the words. “Right now, Joy. Mine. You’re fucking mine.”
Chapter Nine
Joy was shaking.
Wearing one of Ash’s beat-up Navy sweatshirts and wrapped in a blanket, she sat on a stool at his sleek kitchen counter, her limbs trembling. But, despite the rain hammering against the building, she wasn’t cold.
She didn’t know what the hell she was.
Mine, Joy. You’re fucking mine.
Surely those were words said during a moment of passion, yet she couldn’t get them out of her head; couldn’t get any of it out of her head. Suddenly she realized that she’d made love to Ash three times in the last four days and barely knew anything about him.
And he hadn’t asked much about her, either.
Maybe Erica was right. Maybe he did just want her for a booty call. Never mind if it was a damn good booty call, the best she’d ever had, in fact.
After they’d caught their breath, he’d climbed off her, silent. He helped her upstairs, gave her his sweatshirt to wear. Waited while she cleaned up. But since having sex they’d barely spoken. Now silence filled the air, heavy with awkwardness. She couldn’t even fathom talking about the sculpture now.
“Maybe I should go,” she said.
“No.” He cleared his throat. “You want some tea? Coffee?”
“I’ll have some more of that Bushmills if you don’t mind.”
Grinning, he pulled two tumblers out of the cupboard this time. “Not at all. I think I’ll join you.”
He poured two neat glasses, slid one across the table, and lifted his, nodding once at her. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” She gulped down half the contents, and this time when it hit her stomach, she felt it rumbling around. She realized she was starving; she’d had a small salad for lunch and nothing since. Now, lunch seemed so very long ago.
But she was too embarrassed to say anything about being hungry; her grandmother had made sure she never felt comfortable eating in front of a man. Erica and the gang were the only ones who really knew about Joy’s overzealous love of food. Her grandmother had hammered the “eat like a lady” mantra into her for years.
At the moment, after what she’d just done with Ash, she felt very unladylike. And, she realized, she liked it.
“So,” Ash said, staring at her from the other side of the kitchen table.
“So.” She took another large swallow of whiskey and chased it with a deep breath. Fuck it. No time like the present. “So, Ash. I have something I want to tell you.”
Leaning forward slightly, his green eyes nailed her with his sharp gaze. “That’s one of the things I like most about you, Joy. Your honesty. You’re so open….” He shook his head. “You don’t know how rare that is.”
She laughed nervously and gulped down the rest of her whiskey. “Yeah. About that.”
Reaching across the table, he took her hand and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “What is it? You can trust me.”
But you can’t trust me. “Um. Well. Can I have another shot, please?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Just as he stood, his phone rang. “Hello?” he said, cradling the receiver to his neck while he poured her some whiskey. Whoever was on the line must have distracted him, because he poured the alcohol until she had to motion for him to stop.
“Yeah,” he said, his brow creasing. When he was silent, the sound of rain pounded against the window in the quiet loft. “Right. Okay, I’m leaving now. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Right. Bye.”
When he looked at her, his expression had changed completely. He was frowning, and his eyes were dark, shut down. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I have to go. My family needs me. They live in Palo Alto.”
She looked down at her bare legs. Booty call. “Oh. Okay, right.” Erica was right. Joy tilted the glass to her lips and swallowed a deep gulp.
Mmm. She liked whiskey.
Glass in hand, she pushed herself out of the chair. “Right. I’ll just get dres-s-s-ed. And go.” She looked around the immaculate loft. “Where are my bag? I mean, where is my bag and purse? Huh. That didn’t sound right, either.” The room tilted, and she reached for the chair to steady herself.
Ash ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck. You can’t drive. And I don’t want to take you home in the rain on my bike.”
“Bike?”
“My Ducati. My truck’s in the shop.”
“Palo Alto is a good thirty-minute freeway drive away. You can’t do that on a motorcycle, not in this downpour.” She turned, splashing whiskey on the spotless floor. “I have a car. I’ll drive you.”
Ash gently removed the drink from her hand. “No way, baby. You’re not driving anywhere.”
“And I’m not letting you drive in this weather on your motorcycle.” As if to emphasize her point, lightning flared outside, flashing through the loft in a bright blaze. A second or two later, thunder shook the walls and floor.
She shook her head. “No way, Jose.”
“Pardon me?” He looked incredulous that she was arguing with him.
“I’m huuungry.” She put her hand over her mouth. “Oops! I didn’t mean to say that.”
He immediately looked concerned. “When did you eat last?”
“Um, I had a salad for lunch. I’m on a diet.”
“For ’effen sake, and you just drank all that whiskey?”
“Maybe?”
He looked so distressed she held out a hand and put it on his shoulder. Surprisingly, he looked up and didn’t remove it. “Ash, listen. I’ll go with you to your family’s. You can drive my car, and we’ll stop and grab some drive-through on the way, eat in the car. It’s okay.”
He looked unsure. “You don’t understand. When my mom’s like this, it’s… not pretty.”
“I don’t mind.”
“And my sister…” He shook his head, and he looked so distraught she wanted to go with him, wanted to comfort him.
“Ash. Really, I can handle it. Let’s go.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.
She didn’t know what this was, but she wanted to do it. She nodded. “Yup, I’m sure.”
“Okay. But we’re going to In-N-Out on the way to Palo Alto. You’re eating before we do anything.”
She beamed at him. “That sounds wonderful. Do you think I can put on my pants first?”
As if he’d forgotten she wasn’t dressed, he glanced down in surprise. “Yeah. Pants, then cheeseburgers.”
“Ash?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re the best.”
Ash had no fucking idea what he was doing bringing Joy to his family’s place. He’d never brought a girl home, especially not one he’d known for less than a week. Not that he was bringing her home per se; she was just helping him out. He never could have made it to Palo Alto on h
is bike.
“It’s really pouring,” Joy said between bites of her Double-Double.
“I know. Storms came early this year. I had my truck in for a tune-up, thinking I had a few weeks of good weather left.”
“I love the rain.” She slurped deeply from her root beer. Ash loved that Joy ate like a woman and not a bird. So many of the girls he’d been with ate nothing but rabbit food. Then again, he did tend to date model-types, so he supposed their rabbit-food diet was to be expected. Joy wasn’t a model, but she became more and more beautiful to him each second he spent with her.
And she was a wildcat in bed.
His cock stirred whenever he thought about sex with her, which was all the fucking time. Gripping the steering wheel, he focused on the road.
Joy patted the dashboard. “Don’t worry. She may not have much horsepower, but she’ll get us there safe and sound.”
No horsepower was the understatement of the night. The old diesel went from zero to sixty in about ten minutes. But he had to admit that once they got cruising, the old car ran smooth and steady.
The wipers swished across the windshield, barely able to keep up with the torrent of rain. He glanced sideways. “So, I guess I should warn you about my family.”
“Oh?” She tossed a napkin over her shoulder. Joy’s car may have run clean, but the interior was anything but. Books were piled between them on the bench seat, he’d had to move a pile of sweaters off the driver’s-side seat in order to get behind the wheel, and he could have sworn there was a wayward bra strewn across the backseat.
He tried not to think about that.
“They can’t be any worse than my family,” she said.
Ash sighed. “My sister’s a paraplegic.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her go still. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry.”
He swallowed. “It was a random burglary. I was overseas.” Every time he told the story, a knot of anxiety tightened in his gut. He would never stop feeling like it was his fault. “My sister was shot. She lived, but she needs care. Full-time care. My mother quit her job, and it’s been… rough on her.”
“I can imagine.”
Ash’s palms were damp on the steering wheel. “Mom’s great—amazing, actually. But sometimes it gets to be too much for her, and my sister senses when she needs a break.”
“Is that what happened tonight?”
“Yeah. My sister called and asked if I could take over until Mom went to bed. I want to hire a nurse, but Mom adamantly refuses, says she can do it all herself.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking bringing you. Must have been the whiskey.”
Reaching between them, she touched his shoulder gently. “Maybe you wanted some support.”
“No, I’m used to taking care of this by myself.”
“What about you?” she asked softly.
“What do you mean?”
“Who takes care of you?”
Gaze focused on the road, he answered, “No one. It’s my job.”
She gave his shoulder a soft squeeze. “You carry a lot of responsibility, don’t you, Ash?”
He shrugged. “It’s my duty.”
“Is that why you joined the military? You felt it was your duty?”
He paused, unsure how to answer. But then he admitted something he never had before, not out loud. “No. I wanted out.”
“Out of your house?”
“Yeah. Even before the accident, I always felt responsible, ever since my dad died when I was thirteen. One day when I was a senior, I saw the recruitment station set up at my high school. I signed up and never looked back.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Loved it.”
“Why’d you leave?”
He shifted in his seat, his shoulder suddenly tingling as he remembered exactly why. “Helicopter accident. We were shot down. I was discharged.”
Joy didn’t ask for details, and he was glad because he didn’t want to give any.
“My sister had been paralyzed a few months before that, so it was good timing. I needed to come home and take care of things here.”
“Your being shot out of the sky was good timing?” she asked incredulously.
“Yes.” He was dead serious. He’d needed to come home, and that was the only way to do it honorably. Seven years later, his shoulder still gave him trouble. “Rotator cuff injury. You can’t be a SEAL if you can’t swim. So I came home, got a real job, and started supporting my family. I want my sister to have the best care possible.”
“Are you like some kind of saint?”
“Did I seem like a saint earlier, when I had you on your knees?” he asked, ready to change the subject. Sex was always a good distraction.
She got the hint, and when he glanced at her, she was smiling. “You definitely didn’t act like a saint earlier. But, you can be the devil with Miss Joy anytime you like.”
Chapter Ten
Joy tried not to be nervous when they pulled up to a cottage-style house near downtown Palo Alto. Everything was familiar to her; Ash’s family lived only a few blocks away from the restaurant where she’d met Erica. But this was new, meeting his family. She had no idea what to expect.
He pulled to a stop in the driveway. Silently, they both looked at the front of the house. It was quaint and charming, the kind of house Joy loved, with big trees dropping colorful leaves onto the lawn and lots of foliage growing around the exterior. Modest yet lush.
“Ready?”
Joy nodded. Ash’s back was straight as a ruler as he approached the front door. He knocked softly and entered, not waiting for an answer. “Hello? Ma?”
“In her room,” came a soft, feminine voice.
Joy followed Ash through a hallway to a living room. It was decorated in bright colors, with two comfy-looking sofas and a coffee table stacked high with books and magazines. Next to one of the sofas was a woman—she looked like a girl, really—in a wheelchair. She was beautiful, a feminine version of Ash. Her blond hair was pulled into a ponytail, emphasizing her striking cheekbones. Though her legs were disproportionately thin, it was obvious she was tall. She could have been a model.
Ash went to her, bent and kissed her on the cheek. “Pretending to be fine. She’s in her room, supposedly reading, but I heard her crying earlier.”
She looked over Ash’s shoulder with surprise. “Who’s your friend?”
Ash stood quickly. “Oh, this is Joy. She’s an art curator. Joy, this is Violet.”
Unsure, Joy approached Ash’s beautiful sister, who graciously smiled and held out her hand. “It’s okay. I have full use of my arms.”
Joy shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Ash shifted awkwardly. “I’m going to go check on her. Then I’ll be back to help you get ready for bed.”
“Thanks, Ash,” Violet said, and Joy saw concern in the young woman’s eyes.
Ash left, leaving Joy alone with his sister. Smiling, Joy sat across from her on the yellow sofa.
“So, how did you meet Ash?” Violet asked.
“I first bumped into him—literally—when he was visiting my neighbor about six months ago. Then he was a guest at a museum gala last week, and we, um, got to talking about… art and things.” She hoped Violet didn’t notice Joy’s blushing face. “He said he’s giving up art, which I admit I find a shame. He’s very talented.”
Violet nodded. “I know. But he also gets restless. He’s always loved to be in the heart of things, especially when he was in the military. But he worries about me and Mom, even though I wish he wouldn’t.” She waved a hand as if to dismiss the subject. “Anyway, Ash and his security. He’s a bit obsessed with it.”
“Oh?” The only thing she’d seen Ash obsess over was photography.
“Yeah. After this happened”—Violet motioned to her legs—“I think he thought it was his duty to secure the entire world.”
Joy must have looked confused, because Violet asked, “Did he tell you what happened?”
> “That you were…”
“Shot. Eight years ago, when I was seventeen.” She smiled gently. “Don’t worry, it’s not a secret.”
“He did mention it.”
“Did he tell you what happened?”
Joy shook her head. “Not really.”
“We were robbed. Right here in this house. I was a stupid teenager, tried to stop them from taking the television. One of the guys was trigger-happy. Happened to pierce my spinal cord. Lost all use of my lower body. Major recovery time; took years, but now I can at least take a shower with minimal help, be more independent.”
The bravery in Violet’s eyes nearly made Joy tear up. “It must have been hard.” She thought of Ash. “On everyone.”
“It was. Is. Mom had a successful landscape company but gave up everything to care for me. She’s been amazing, but she doesn’t take care of herself like she should. She always puts my needs before her own, and sometimes I know it’s overwhelming for her.”
“I’m sure,” Joy murmured, her heart aching for Ash’s family.
“I was wondering how long he’d stay away from doing what he loves. He’s forever trying to catch the bad guys.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I think he has some unresolved issues, because the police never caught who broke in that night.”
The blood drained from Joy’s face. “You mean the thieves?”
Violet nodded.
“Right. Makes sense.” Joy tried to remain calm, but every nerve in her body felt like it was twitching. What the hell had she gotten herself into? She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. How could she possibly tell Ash about what she’d done?
He was going to hate her, which, she realized, was way worse than killing her.
“I’m writing about it.”
“Pardon me?” Joy asked, drawing her attention back to Ash’s sister.
“That’s the silver lining. I’m writing my autobiography. I never enjoyed writing before, but it’s been very rewarding, very therapeutic. Not that anyone will ever read it.” She laughed, a light tinkling sound that warmed Joy’s heart. “Ash says it’s a good thing I’m writing because otherwise I never stop talking!”
Reaching out, Joy took Violet’s hand. No matter what Joy had done, Violet was a good, sweet girl. “If you ever need someone to talk too much to, call me.”