Sweet Destruction

by Paige Weaver

  “Shit,” I swore. What is wrong with people?

  More grunts and smacks came from outside the car. I grew terrified all over again. I laid on the horn again and started flicking the headlights on and off, on and off. Anything to get help. But it was useless. Nobody was coming.

  I reached under the driver’s seat, hoping to find a crowbar. Anything. There was nothing except a small piece of paper. I grabbed it. A condom wrapper. Crap.

  I became desperate, unable to help Walker. I couldn’t see him anymore. There were too many guys and it was too dark. But I could hear the sounds of fighting. Punches and thumps. Bones connecting and hits on solid bodies. Terrible sounds.

  What do I do?

  I grabbed my phone and dialed 911, cringing when I heard a whack followed by a heavy grunt outside the car.

  “911, what’s your emergency?” a bored female voice asked on the other line.

  I opened my mouth to tell her to send help when someone was thrown against the car, shaking it on its wheels. I jumped and screamed, dropping the phone in the floorboard. I caught a glimpse of a guy’s face smashed against the window before he was hauled away. A second later there was a thud and another whack, followed by the sound of someone hitting the ground.

  I reached for my phone again, my heart in my throat. What if it is Walker on the ground, beaten and bruised? What if he is bleeding to death, a knife wound in his side?

  Dropping the phone, I started to climb across the gearshift. Forget the cops, they wouldn’t show up in this area anyway. I was going after Walker myself.

  I had my hands in the passenger seat and my knees in the driver’s when Walker fell into the vehicle, forcing me back behind the wheel.

  “DRIVE! DRIVE!” he shouted, yanking the door shut as men rushed the car.

  I fell into the driver’s seat and stepped on the clutch. At the same time, I threw the stick into first. In one smooth action, I popped the clutch and stomped on the gas. The car took a second but then lurched forward, burning rubber and taking off. Thank goodness Bentley had taught me how to drive a stick like a pro or I would be up shit creek right now.

  We flew down the street, the headlights cutting through the darkness. I glanced in the rearview mirror once, seeing the men standing in the street. One or two of them were on the ground, clutching their stomachs or heads.

  With my hair whipping in the open window, I stuck my hand out and gave them the bird. God, it felt good.

  Walker chuckled beside me as I drew my hand back in the car. The baritone sound of his laugh sent chills through me, reminding me of how much danger he had been in. Unable to stop myself, I reached over and punched his arm with the back of my fist, putting enough strength behind it to add another bruise to any he might have received.

  “Goddamn it! What was that for?” Walker shouted over the sound of the car barreling down the road, the wind whipping through the open windows.

  I glanced over at him, ignoring my hair flipping around. “You scared me! Don’t ever do that again!”

  “I’ll damn well do it again if I have to!” he shouted back, grabbing the leather handle above the door and hanging on as I downshifted and took a corner too fast, fishtailing. “Anything to protect you, Ross!”

  I glanced at him, my eyes going wide.

  He was bruised and bleeding. I could see the evidence of it in the glow of the streetlights. All for me. I watched as he ran a knuckle under his nose, avoiding my eyes. A red substance was left behind on his hand and still trickled from his left nostril.

  “You’re bleeding!” I exclaimed, glancing frantically from him to the road. “Shit!”

  “They got lucky,” Walker said, wincing when he tried to sit up straighter.

  I floored it through a yellow light, keeping one eye on him and one on the road. He was pulling his shirt up, exposing a bare stomach ripped with muscles.

  “Damn,” he said in a soft voice.

  “Oh god they cut you!” I said on a whoosh of air, seeing a gash in his side.

  His eyes traveled up to meet mine. “I’m fine, Ross. Drive,” he said, his breathing heavy.

  Bullshit he was fine.

  I glanced around, looking for somewhere safe to pull over. There was crap. Only neighborhoods and businesses that looked like we were on the dark side of hell. Shit. I was in shitville.

  I drove for another mile, glancing at Walker every few seconds. He had pulled his shirt down, hiding the blood from me. But he was quiet. Too quiet, and that scared me to death.

  We were ten miles from downtown and minutes from where Bentley sat in jail, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled into the parking lot of a liquor store. On one side of the street was the questionable establishment of K Street Liquors, closed for the night. On the other side was a row of little 1930s bungalows. The neighborhood might have been cute back in the day but now it sat dilapidated and decaying. Wasting away like most of this town.

  “Very funny,” Walker said, glancing up at the dark liquor sign. “As much as I could use a drink right now, we need to go.”

  I parked in a vague, barely outlined parking spot behind the building and cut the engine.

  “You’re hurt,” I said, unbuckling my seat belt and turning toward him.

  “With a paper cut. Let’s go get your brother, Ross,” Walker said, watching as I tucked one leg under me so I could lean toward him more.

  I brushed off his excuse. “It does matter, Walker, and my brother can wait. He’s not going anywhere.” Reaching over, I lifted the corner of his shirt to reveal a tanned, six-pack stomach, wincing when I saw the cut angled across his ribcage.

  “It’s shallow. One of them had a butter knife on him,” Walker said with a grin.

  I looked up into his eyes, frustrated that he was so flippant about it. Yeah, it was shallow, but it was still a knife wound. “It’s not funny, Walker. You could’ve been killed! Does that not bother you?”

  “Not really,” Walker said, indifferently.

  The thought left me cold. If he had been seriously hurt or killed, I don’t know what I would’ve done. For one tiny, little second I tried to imagine life without him.

  And couldn’t.

  “What does bother you, Walker?” I asked with exasperation, flopping back down into the driver’s seat. “The fact that we’re sitting in front of a liquor store and you need a drink? Or how about the fact that we’re on our way to pick up your best friend from jail? Somewhere you helped him get to? I want to know because dying or getting hurt doesn’t seem to bother you. So what does?”

  Despite the cut on his side, Walker leaned across the gearshift toward me, his voice taking on a hard edge. “You want to know what the hell bothers me?” he asked, the muscles of his jaw flexing and tightening. “You!”

  I sucked in a breath but recovered quickly. “Screw you,” I said, crossing my arms under my breasts.

  Walker’s voice rose, fury in his tone. “I’m going to play like you didn’t say that.”

  “Whatever makes you happy,” I said with a smart-ass smile, uncrossing my arms and leaning toward him, meeting him over the gearshift.

  Walker gave me his own arrogant smile. “What would make me happy is if you would listen to me for once. When I say not to get out of the car, don’t get out of the car! Is that so hard?”

  I didn’t answer. I was too pissed.

  Walker’s eyes dropped to my mouth, his tone caustic. “You always have to do things your way, Sam. You walk around looking so goddamn beautiful and I have to sit here and watch it, knowing it’s wrong for me to touch you! I can’t fucking want you! Why? Because I’m too fucked up. Do you really think I want to love you like I do? Hell no! So yes, you bother me!” he yelled. “YOU!”

  I stared at him, all the hurt and anger leaving my body. Did he just admit to loving me?

  His eyes blazed, spitting fire and burning rage rolling in them. We stared at each other. I felt stuck, unable to move, captivated by him. He was so aggravating and stubborn. A real je
rk. He made me want to scream. But he was Walker.

  And I was afraid I might be falling for him. Hard.

  He took a deep breath then let it out on a resented sigh. “Listen, Sam,” he said in a calmer voice. “Forget I said anything, especially that last part. I don’t love you. I can’t.”

  But I could love him.

  Chapter Twenty–Seven

  -Sam-

  With one leap, I was across the gearshift and straddling his lap. I suddenly knew what I wanted and he was sitting right beside me.

  Grabbing Walker’s head, I kissed him. A frantic, needful kiss that wasn’t afraid. Our past was forgotten, our future left up to chance. It was just Walker and Sam, two kids who once hated each other now falling hard for one another.

  Walker grabbed my hips, his fingers digging into my thighs. His mouth took mine with urgency, coercing me to do whatever it wanted. A deep moan escaped him when I angled my head to the side, seeking more entrance into his mouth. My fingers tangled in his hair, feeling the silky strands between them. For a second, I let them cascade through my fingers then I grabbed a handful and tugged, pulling his head back so I could deepen our kiss. I was desperate. Hungry. Starving for him. God, I had almost lost him.

  I sucked at his lower lip then pulled it between my teeth, licking it gently before letting it go. His fingers tightened on my hips, restraining me against him. But I wasn’t going anywhere. Not even our hatred could keep us apart this time.

  “Am I hurting you?” I pulled away to ask. The gearshift was poking into one of my legs and the door handle was pressing into my side, but I was more worried about Walker and his cut. I didn’t want to cause him anymore harm than I already had.

  “No, but if I were I’d deal with the pain to have you on top of me,” he said hoarsely, running one of his hands down to my thigh. His thumb slipped beneath the hem of my shorts, inches from my opening.

  I sucked in a quick breath as he came close to touching me, but then he removed his hand and put it back on my hip, squeezing gently. I lowered my head and kissed him again, careful of the cut on his side. He opened his mouth wider, inviting me in. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.

  I darted my tongue out, swiping it across his a second before thrusting my tongue into his mouth. His fingers gripped my hips harder, urging me to move on him. I wiggled in his lap, rubbing against his arousal hidden in his jeans. He moaned around my tongue as I rocked my hips into him, his hardness hitting me dead center. I sucked in a breath, fire shooting through my body. Without thinking twice, I started to tug my sweatshirt up. I wanted his mouth on my breasts. Sucking. Licking. Biting me. God, I wanted it so bad.

  I broke the kiss off for just a second, enough time to drag the sweatshirt over my head and throw it into the driver’s seat, forgotten. I hated it. It kept me hidden from him and I wanted to be bare for him.

  As soon as it was gone, Walker grabbed the back of my head and leaned into me more. His mouth returned to mine, his tongue gliding across my lips and into my depths. I shuttered, taking him inside my mouth and sucking on his tongue. Grabbing the bottom of my tank top, I started to yank it up when his hand went under my hair, gathering a handful. I shivered, hoping he would pull the strands hard as soon as he was in me.

  Feeling delirious, I rushed to pull my tank top off faster.

  “Windows,” he said in a husky voice, his mouth leaving mine to travel to my neck.

  In the haze of desire, I realized the windows were still down. Dropping my tank top, I darted across the gearshift, my upper body lying across the driver’s seat, my lower body still straddling Walker. I had never wanted to crank up a window so fast. I cursed the old car when it got stuck halfway.

  Walker chuckled, low and sexy. He ran his hand under my tank top as I worked on getting the window up, his touch driving me crazy. I heard him roll up the passenger window with a free hand. Shit, could mine be any harder to crank?

  Finally, I sat up. Mission accomplished. Driver’s side window up. I was back in Walker’s lap in seconds, my mouth on his.

  He gathered the bottom of my tank top in a fist and yanked, almost ripping the worn material. He pulled it over my head and threw it on top of the sweatshirt, creating a pile of clothing in the driver’s seat. My hair cascaded down my chest, covering my bra. He pushed the thick strands behind my shoulder and pulled me toward him, his mouth going to my neck.

  “What do you want, Sam. Tell me,” he whispered against my skin, leaving dampness behind. “Demand it of me.”

  I sucked in my bottom lip, closing my eyes to the craving coursing through me. Could I say it? Should I? Love me, Walker, please. But what I said wasn’t what I planned to say out loud.

  “I want your mouth on my breasts,” I answered, my voice barely above a whisper. “Bite them. Lick them. Please.”

  Walker growled, pushing my bra up and out of the way. “Like this?” he asked, leaning over and taking my nipple into his mouth.

  “Yes,” I said hoarsely, exhaling as he dragged me deep into his mouth, suckling me. Ecstasy shot through me, spreading from my breast down to my center, leaving me burning and begging for more.

  Walker let go of my breast. It popped from his mouth and made me moan. His tongue shot out, licking my nipple and flicking the point. He swirled it around my puckered tip, leaving wetness on me, before drawing it into his mouth, sucking deeply. I gasped and arched my back, feeding him more of my breast. He took it, palming the other and pulling my nipple between his fingers.

  “Can’t let this one go without some attention,” he murmured, his warm breath brushing across my skin as he moved to my other breast.

  He took it in his mouth, giving it as much as attention as the first. He swirled his tongue around my nipple, tugging and licking one second, sucking on it the next. His teeth nipped at the point, pulling enough to send a tinge of erotic pain shooting through me. I whimpered and shifted on his crotch, the gearshift leaving an impression on my right leg.

  My breasts were wet and sore but nothing had ever felt so good. His fingers played with one, tugging and flicking, while his mouth worshiped the other. I thought I couldn’t take anymore but he was out to prove me wrong.

  “What else?” he asked, his voice like honey against my skin. “Do you want me to touch you? Lick your pussy? Tell me.”

  I swallowed past my dry throat, my face burning. Can I take more? Jesus, yes.

  “Your fingers.” I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to finish my sentence.

  He ran his hand up my naked back, his fingers running along my spine, caressing me.

  “What do you want me to do with them?” Walker asked, his voice so husky and sexual I could have come just listening to his voice. “Tell me and I’ll do it. As hard or as gentle as you want.”

  His eyes roamed over my nakedness, heat in his eyes, fire flaring from them. It turned my skin to a roaring inferno. I should’ve been embarrassed, straddling his lap, almost naked, his words ringing in my ears, but I wasn’t. I felt worshipped.

  I bit the tender skin of my inner mouth, uncertainty making me waver.

  He ran his fingers under the leg of my shorts, teasing me. “I’m under your control, Sam. I won’t do anything unless you tell me to. That’s the rule.”

  I wrapped a hand around his neck, rocking my hips against him when his fingers delved a little more under my shorts.

  “When did you start following the rules?” I asked with a breathy voice, shaky with longing.

  His mouth quirked up in a grin. “For you, sweetheart, I’ll follow every damn rule there is. I’ll even make up a few of my own if I can get you where I want you.”

  “And where would that be?” I asked teasingly.

  Walker groaned and leaned toward me, his mouth going to my neck. “Under me. Your legs spread. Open for me,” he whispered, nipping at my skin.

  A flush raced along my nerve endings, ending in the tips of my fingers buried in his hair. His language only turned me on more.

  “Now, tell me wh
ere you want my fingers before I break my own damn rule and just do what I want,” Walker said in a hoarse voice, sounding like he was losing his battle with control.

  I tried to have a coherent thought as he palmed my breast again, running his thumb across my nipple. Waiting for me to answer, he kissed his way back to my mouth, tugging and flicking the tip of one breast at the same time with his fingers.

  I wiggled on his lap, needing more. “I want your fingers in me,” I said against his mouth, blushing at my words. “Please.”

  “Hmm,” he chuckled in a low voice, taking his mouth away from mine. “There’s that word again. Please. It sounds so goddamn sweet coming from your mouth.”

  I smiled, realizing how much power I had over him. It felt good but who was I kidding? He was the one capable of making me melt and shatter.

  “Take your shorts off. Panties too,” he instructed, removing his hand from my back and letting go of me.

  I blushed from the tip of my head down to my bare toes. With his eyes on my body, I wiggled and pushed my shorts and underwear down my legs, leaving them in the floorboard. And leaving me displayed for him.

  “Jesus, you’re so fucking perfect,” he said, running his eyes down my body.

  I was red with embarrassment but I swung one of my legs back over him, straddling his lap again. My naked body was a contradiction to his clothed form, the roughness of the material against my sensitive skin sensual. His eyes stayed on me, soaking in the sight of me. As soon as my hands went to his shoulders, his lips were on me, his tongue thrusting into my mouth again.

  I groaned and melted against him as his hands delved into my hair, holding the sides of my head steady. His tongue slid past my lips and thrust inside, tasting me. I was so wrapped up in his mouth that I didn’t notice when one of his hands disappeared from my head.

  He reached between us, his hand warm against my thigh. I wiggled, giving him more access. His fingers slid against me, disappearing between my legs. I pulled back from his mouth, gasping, my body trembling.

  “This what you want?” he whispered, watching me in the dark, his fingers dipping between my folds.