“I'd be happy to put them back in for your pleasure.” I leaned closer, kissing her tenderly. “But I'm not sure how seriously the Harvard guys are going to take things like reputations and piercings.”
“Hm.” She pressed her lips together. “I guess we'll need to think of other ways to keep things interesting.”
“I've got a few...dozen.” I caught her hips and turned her quickly, forcing her sexy ass in my face and parting her cheeks. Settled on my knees, I held her against my tongue and began fucking her tight hole, long and slow, my tongue working against the tight muscle and causing her hips to buck and writhe against me.
More hot arousal surged down her thighs and coated my chin. “Fuck, you're sloppy wet. I could live deep inside your pretty ass and you wouldn't know the difference.”
She only wiggled her ass and moaned. My cock tightened painfully, jerking from soft to steel hard in moments. I continued to lick and suck, flipping the pads of my fingers around her clit before slipping my fingers against her crack and easing her muscles open, encouraging her to relax for me.
I sank my tongue deeper into her, and she circled her hips, as primal, raw grunts came from her throat and she arched off the sofa and tried to slam her body back against mine.
“Stop moving,” I growled, and smacked at her beautiful, pert nipple. She didn’t hear me or didn’t care, because she continued to work back and forth against my thrusts, chasing my dick as much as I was riding her. “Stop moving or I’ll stop.”
I pinched at her nipple until her eyes shot open and she clenched her teeth together. That got her attention. Her eyes blazed back at me, the anger and pain and lust swirling in her fiery grey depths.
“Got your attention, huh? Teach you to listen to me next time.”
I swirled my thumb around the tight bud of her clit.
“You think so?” She breathed as she tensed her core, her pussy fisting around me as she came in pulsing waves. It was agonizing torture. The sweetest kind. “Fuck.” I punished her for getting off when I'd told her not to by taking away the pressure of my tongue. I glanced down, my dick glistening with her thick arousal before I took it in my hand and teased up her length, then to her back entrance.
I tipped my head up, a smirk falling on my lips as I nudged between her ass cheeks.
“Do it. I want you.”
And just like that, I came unleashed. My feet planted firmly on the floor, I angled her in such a way that it would make her impossibly tighter around my cock. I probed my cock against her back entrance again, teasing her as she watched me, a devilish smile on her face. I pushed farther, eased in, breached the tight ring of muscle as she moaned and fisted at the sofa cushions. I seated myself inside her, pushing into her as far as I could get, my other hand fisting at one sweet ass cheek.
“Fuck me, please,” she whimpered; and wanting her so damn much—it all crashed in on me. She had my heart thudding and my body itching to own her, own every piece of her. Dismantle her cell by cell and put her back together again, so she needed me. Needed me to live. I wanted to be the glue that held every shattered piece together so there was no living without me. She did that to me. Had me coming undone.
I grunted and poured everything I had into her sweet ass. Her soft body, open to me, taking me, letting me chase the pain and blackness away for one night. “I love you, Mad, so damn much.”
“Kyler, oh my God, I love you too,” she replied.
Fuck, she always got me. Looking into those soulful eyes of hers then, I knew. I knew that she was stronger than I’d ever been. She’d pulled herself together after I’d torn her apart, and I’d been the one to crumble. She’d come back for me, even when I didn’t deserve it. She had strength she didn’t even know she had. But I saw it. Right there staring back at me.
My everything.
I reeled back, plunged in again, and fisted at her breast, so hard it left red marks, before I leaned down and bit under the curve of her breast as my other hand trailed to her throat. I bit. I bruised. I didn’t draw blood, but I had blood pooling under the skin, a red welt to mark her, a tiny love bruise where only she and I would ever see.
She pulsed around me. Waves crashed through her body as she whimpered and moaned while I rode my orgasm inside of her. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I gazed at her beautiful skin. I bent over, ran a hand through her long strands, and fisted in her hair. Pressing my lips to hers in a searing, take-no-prisoners kiss, and then slowly, I finally pulled out of her.
“I love you, Mad. Now, forever, always.”
Epilogue 2
Madison - ten years later
“Happy anniversary, Mrs. Sinclair,” Kyler said, wrapping his arms around me. Fifteen years later and I still loved nothing more than his arms around my body. Well, maybe our two children. I definitely loved our kids more, but only slightly. We’d settled into domestic life eight years ago, getting married right before Kyler passed the bar and started working at the District Attorney’s office. He helped put bad guys away and I worked as a social worker helping those they harmed along the way. Our jobs had helped heal us in a way and created our sense of purpose.
“Dad, can you tell Michael to stop bugging me?” Clair, our oldest, said, her small fists at her sides as she trembled in anger. I stifled a small laugh as Michael came out after her, holding a Barbie with a very interesting hair cut in his hand. “He cut her hair, Daddy.”
Kyler walked to her, lifting her tiny frame in his arms and twirling her around. “We can go to the store and buy you a whole new Barbie this Sunday after brunch?” Since Clair had been three and Michael one, Kyler and the kids had gone to brunch every Sunday like clockwork. No matter what, he’d never missed the date. It was the kind of man he was. Nothing and no one came between him and his commitments to our children and me. He’d come a long way from the man I’d first met all those years ago.
“You promise, Daddy?”
“Pinky swear,” he said, lifting his baby finger to hers as they shook.
“What about me?” Michael asked, a cute pout forming on his lips. Kyler put Clair down gently and bent to look our son in his vibrant blue eyes, the matching ones like his father.
“We’ll get you something too. Whatever you want. Now you two go get ready, Aunt Tammy will be here any moment for your sleepover.”
“Where are you and mommy going tonight?” Michael asked.
“Mommy and I have a special date,” Kyler said, looking at me, before our kids scampered off to their own room.
“I owe you the world,” he said, moving his blue eyes to me. “I’m never going to be able to do or say anything to show you how much you and our kids mean to me.” He cradled my face in his strong hands. “I love you, baby. I love you more every single moment I know you. You hang the moon and set the sun. You’re everything.”
Also by Mila Crawford
Jameson
“Hey!” The old man’s voice interrupted the last slash of red on brick. “I’m calling the police this time, you little punk!”
I let off the trigger of the spray, drips of paint bleeding between the cracks of the brick in angry rivulets.
Not perfect, but it’d have to be, for tonight anyway.
I shot one last look at the shop owner, who was thrusting the phone in his hand my way as he yelled at the top of his lungs. I shot off around the corner of Fifth Avenue at a full jog, crossing the street—nearly empty of traffic at this time of night.
and lost myself in the overgrowth of Central Park.
I could still hear his angry voice shouting from the corner as his eyes scanned the darkness in search of me.
I didn’t blame him.
I’d been working that piece for the last three nights. I was surprised he hadn’t painted over the current work in progress, a fist wrapped in barbed wire with splashes of red, meant to be a symbol of consumer oppression.
I hovered at the path just inside the treeline and just outside of the nearest streetlamp. The truth was, I liked watch
ing the angry man spit nails as much as I liked making the art on his brand-new brick wall.
Graffiti on the corner of 59th and 5th, the heart of uptown shopping, was never looked kindly upon.
And then I heard the siren.
A vicious grin twisted on my face as I launched the spray cans I had on me into the garbage can at my side before, head down, hustling the other way along the path deeper into the park.
“Shit…” A hot beverage soaked my shirt as my eyes cast up. “I’m so, so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’ve had the worst fucking day. I shouldn’t even be around people right now.”
Her hand launched out to wipe my black shirt with a recycled napkin. I caught her dainty hands, halting them before she could make contact.
“Stop,” I gritted.
Her head was still bent, fat ugly tears rolling down the planes of her creamy cheeks. “I said I was sorry.”
“So that makes you entitled to my forgiveness? Think again, rich girl.” I glanced over my shoulder to see a cop car slowing at the curb before coming to a stop at the start of the path we were on, eyes nailed on us.
“Shit.” I breathed, realizing this would look really bad if I took off running now. I was as good as caught red-handed.
“Jameson?” Her voice sucked in a breath of air at my shoulder. “Jameson Styles?”
My jaw physically hurt, I was clenching it so damn tightly. The cop was walking toward us now, eyes on me, and I could only pray he hadn’t heard this fucking meek little thing just utter my real name.
“Evenin’, kids.” The middle-aged officer stopped short of us. “Pretty late to be out in the park.” His voice trailed off, forming a question, and I hated him for it. When neither of us answered, he shuffled on his feet, throwing a nod over his shoulder to the shop owner, still talking to himself on the corner as he tried to watch. “Any chance you may have seen anything…suspicious?”
I could feel the way he was taking me in, trying to determine if I was the criminal he was looking for or just another waste of his time. I cleared my throat, thrusting a hand through my dark hair and about to make up some excuse about the night shift, when little miss meek threaded her fingers in mine.
A tremor of disdain rushed through me before her tiny voice spoke up. “We haven’t seen anything, Officer. My boyfriend here thought a stroll through the park at night would be romantic, until I spilled coffee on both of us and…” She rolled her eyes, bouncing her shoulder into mine like we’d known each other for ages.
“Hm.” The officer’s gaze hovered at her hand clasped with mine, a cloyingly sweet smile decorating her face as she rocked back and forth in her designer boots. “Well, stick to the well-lit areas. There’s been some reports of an uptick in crime around here this late at night.” He shoved a hand into his back pocket and pulled a card out, passing it to her. “Please, give me a call personally if you see anything that stands out.”
His eyes lingered long and hard, and then I physically had to restrain myself from kicking his arrogant fucking teeth in.
I’d only been adding a little artwork to the face of one of the fine establishments on Fifth. This guy was visibly eye-fucking a strange woman at night under the guise of law and order.
I shook my head, ready to speak up to him, when she put her other palm on my chest, siding herself a little closer and putting her body in between him and me. She tipped her head to one side, silky teased ringlets following over her shoulder when she whispered, “Honey…”
The desperate saccharine tone in her words caught my attention, and I finally dragged my gaze down to meet hers.
And then I knew where we’d met before.
How could I forget this girl?
She was the fucking bane of my existence.
“Can we go home now? It’s getting chilly out here.”
I almost shook with her lie-riddled words, the memories dousing my ability to manage my emotions properly in this situation.
“Please?” Her words clung to mine, begging.
My teeth ached with the pain of grinding my teeth, preventing my ability to talk and forcing only a jerky nod out of me.
“Well…” The officer was still lingering, this time his gaze not on me but on her ass. His glance travelled up her form before he stopped on my face. “Have a good night, then, kids.”
As soon as he turned on his shiny shoes, I tore the officer’s card from her hand and threw it in the garbage behind him. “I wouldn’t let you call him, even if I did give a shit about you.”
Her face fell, hand dropping from mine. “Wait. I just saved your ass. Call me crazy, but I thought you’d be a little more grateful, Jameson.”
“Stop using my name.” I kept walking, but unfortunately for me she kept up.
“Well, I know it’s been a while, but unless you changed your name—”
“I didn’t. I just can’t stand the way it sounds on your lips.”
That stopped her in her tracks. “Maybe I should run back to Officer Feinman and tell him where he can find those cans of spray paint you tossed right before I walked up, then.”
I froze, chest heaving with the adrenaline still coursing through my system. “You would do that, wouldn’t you?”
“Why so cruel, Styles? Doesn’t Park Avenue High have some time-honored rule about being loyal to your Park Avenue Crew first?” She tipped her head to the side, sarcastic grin flirting on her lips.
“I’m more loyal than you’ve ever been.” I put myself in her personal space, my hand hovering at her hair, whether to pet her hair or yank it, I wasn’t yet sure, before I whispered, “The thing is, you’re not a human at all. You’re just a spoiled Park Avenue Barbie desperate for attention. You were then, and—” I made a point of looking her up and down “—from the looks of things, I don’t think that’s changed.”
I turned, leaving her behind me, right where she belonged.
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Mila Crawford
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Ruthless: Black Mountain Academy Page 15