by Melissa Blue
The heat of his anger surrounded her, making it hard for her to breathe in a slow and steady rhythm. She opened her mouth to reply and the words dried in her throat.
Could she say he was dead wrong?
She'd poked at him for years and he’d barely showed a reaction. With one weekend filled with sex, she'd decided to ignore the rules: Don't get too friendly with Porter's friends. Unless she made the sudden discovery that she'd been born with an extra dangling appendage, she wasn't invited into their all-male circle.
Porter didn't wedge his way into her friendships, and her repaying the favor was only fair. Hell, none of her friends had dated any of his friends. That's how separate their lives were.
But the unspoken rule was harder to obey: Act like the lust she felt burning her inside out whenever she so much as looked at Vic didn't exist.
God. It was a small miracle she wasn't rocking in a corner, drooling. And, yes, she'd wanted to know the story behind every scar, every tattoo—everything about him he'd denied her for years.
Maybe Victor could see that truth in her eyes, because his fingers pressed deeper into her skin. The pain turned her on. She wanted to pour gasoline over them and light a match—to ignite the fire, if he wouldn’t.
And that impulse to provoke until she had a reaction, any reaction, would make him right. That meant he could see straight through her while his taut jawline and dark, serious gaze hid his every emotion.
Again, she jerked her hands to break free. This time though, he stepped into her and restrained her arms behind her back. Her breasts flattened against his chest. She was too stubborn to drop her gaze, so she met his head-on.
His nostrils flared. “I bet you're wet right now, hoping I do what you want. I'm not your puppet, Ash.”
She lifted her chin higher, but he had to feel her trembling. “Never asked you to be.”
“So fucking clueless. You have no idea what I can do to you.”
Ash those craved those secrets. Lust and curiosity wasn't mutually exclusive.
She pressed against him and his dick pressed back. Her stomach jumped at the clear evidence that he wanted her, too. She wasn't alone. The hard length of his cock rubbed against her belly when she shifted to get in closer to his warmth.
He groaned, his gaze narrowing on her face. In that suspended moment between them, right or wrong didn't exist. Just heat. The longing for his mouth on hers.
“Show me the truth,” she whispered, her voice husky. “Don't give me vague warnings about why I should leave you alone. Show me.”
The words left her mouth without her giving any thought to what they could do.
Ash needed to see Vic after he had torn down the walls he'd erected. Didn't matter if his knuckles were bloody and she ended up emotionally bruised. Pushing him was dangerous. Probably all kinds of stupid. She was too far gone to care anymore.
He dropped her hands and nudged her away. Before she could protest, he had her bent over the desk—her arms imprisoned behind her back once again.
A rush of arousal soaked her panties. She had wanted to drive him over into the abyss. Now she needed him to drag her there too.
“I shouldn't be doing this to you.” His fingernails dug into her forearms as though holding her tighter could rein him in.
Blood roared in her ears. That was the Vic she needed. Not the one who put her in a gilded cage to keep her safe, but the one who would leave marks without an apology.
He cursed at himself—at her. She didn't care. He was touching her.
“I know better,” he said. The coarse caress of denims against her thighs was nothing compared to the gruff way he spoke.
She shivered and her shoulder muscles burned. He'd wrapped his hands around her wrists and pushed up, pressing her face into the hard wood of her desk.
“I want this, Vic. I want you just like this. You and me. Just us.”
It was a lie. She knew that as soon as the words had spilled from her mouth. It was never just them. They were at work. And they'd have to face her brother and the Goon Squad if the truth came out. Victor had sworn to never have her again, and she knew he was fighting that inner conflict.
If her head hadn’t been spinning with need, she might have let her own doubts settle in. But how in the hell could she think while he rubbed his cock against her? His jeans and her skirt couldn't dampen the delicious friction that made her insides quake and her pussy clench.
“Please, Vic.”
His soft growl was all the warning he gave. He tugged at her skirt and panties until cool air kissed her ass cheeks. From the rough way he handled her, she anticipated a hard smack. Instead, he only groaned. She was bare and bent over, his for the taking.
“Vic.” She moaned, on the brink of begging for him to spank her. Ash just wanted his touch on her bare skin. Anything to ease the ache of anticipation knotting her gut. She'd never invited pain into sex but something had to give.
Within her next shuddering breath, the tip of his cock swept over her clit. She wanted to crawl out of her damn skin.
He eased back, spreading her legs apart with his own. Again, he teased her with just his cock’s tip, soaking himself with her arousal. Finally, Vic was a hard, thick heat pressing into her. Her moan sounded pained, even to her.
“This is what you wanted, Ash. Stop whimpering and take it.” The angry words rasped over her sensitive skin.
“Take me hard.”
“I shouldn't...” He slammed deep into her, a jagged moan ripping from his throat.
The second and third thrusts were harder, deeper. She could only dig her nails into her palms and arch her ass up to take more.
His groan rumbled through her, tightening her nipples. “Don't fucking move.”
Her body was trembling too much to completely obey the harsh command. They didn't need to exchange words to make it clear—they were fucking, feeding that insatiable mouth called lust. Embarrassment should have heated her face for her to have needed something so base and primal from him, but she was wet enough to hear the slurp of his thrusts as he kept going deep and hard.
They were at work. They shouldn't do this. He'd made that vow.
“Don't stop, Vic. Please.”
“Beg louder.”
She replied with something, likely louder as he had demanded, but she couldn't hear over the roar in her ears. Her sex was quickening, tightening around his cock. So close. Almost there. Right fucking there. His groan bordered on animalistic and then she felt empty.
He'd pulled out.
She whimpered, her pussy still clenching. He pushed her harder into the desk. His breath coming low and rough. His weight pressed against her back, one hand easily keeping her prisoner.
Victor traced his tongue over the shell of her ear before whispering, “If this was just sex, I’d leave you wanting, aching. 'Cause that's the kind of man I am. Is that what you want, Ash? Is that the monster you crave?”
His dick rested in the crease of her ass. She wiggled against him but his hold turned into a vise to keep her still. She gasped, both turned on and dizzy from the abrupt end of their sex.
“I can stroke my dick against your pussy and then come on your ass and leave you right there on the edge. I fucking want to, just to prove my point.”
The haze of lust refused to clear at his harsh words. They were still skin-to-skin, so close she could feel the pounding of his heart.
“Vic,” was all she could say—a plea, really.
His grip tightened then loosened. “Fuck.”
The burn in her shoulders eased. His hands were gentle on her skin as he lifted her from the desk. He wrapped his arms around her tightly before burying his face in her neck, his breath harsh and heavy against her skin.
He panted, shook as though fighting some inner demon. No words could soothe him. Hell, she could barely understand his—their—need for rough sex. He apparently required repentance for his dark urges.
Ash turned her head, lifted her chin, and offered her mouth.
He closed a hand around her throat, still gentle, and kissed her. In her next breath, he was buried inside her again, thrusting slowly and softly as though to make up for before. Seconds later, he broke the kiss to bury his face into her shoulder, shuddered, and then groaned as his come spilled inside her.
A stillness filled her office. Her heart, God, how it ached. He hadn't hurt her, so why the hell did she feel so broken? He'd shown her his monster and she just wanted to hold him.
“Jesus, Ash.” Horror filled the simple words.
The cold kissing her ass cheeks disappeared after he straightened her panties and then her skirt. When he'd fully pulled his weight away from her, she still didn't know what to say to him. So she rose from the desk and fixed her clothes. In no known universe would what she felt count as sated. Her everything throbbed, but that wasn't important.
The silence was filling up with his anxiety. Ash could almost taste it. Scrounging up some courage, she faced him. His clothes and his hair were disheveled. There was no hard mask to hide the pain etching lines deeper around his mouth.
She leaned against her desk because her knees refused to stop wobbling. “Come here.”
He'd steadily put space between them, tugging his hands through his hair. It said so much that he stepped forward into her. She rested her hands on his waist and met his gaze.
Worry and concern fought for room in his eyes. “I shouldn't have—”
“You're getting overzealous, and I just might take you out for being that way with me.”
A twitch in the corner of her mouth stole her breath. “Ash...”
“Don't do that.” Her skin still buzzed, and with him so close, everything in her threatened to explode. “Don't tell me how I should feel, Vic.”
He broke away from her stare. “And how do you feel?”
She could pick a bubbly, impulsive reply, or she could be as real as the moment they'd just shared. A lump rose in her throat. She felt raw. “Just sex” had never left her so adrift.
“Kiss me for now, and when I know how to answer, I'll tell you.”
He shook his head, his Adam's apple bobbing. “Did I—”
“No.” She already knew his question. “You didn't hurt me. I—uh...” She let out a small embarrassed laugh. “It really turned me on, Vic.”
He kissed her then, hard and long, and gravity stopped existing. A minute later, he murmured against her mouth, “I should probably get back to my office before we get fired for...”
Ash balled her hands in his shirt and kissed him again—until she was somewhat satisfied. She needed so much more, but it would have to wait until she could think again. That would be a good start.
Finally they broke apart. “We'll talk later,” he said.
“Okay,” she replied.
He had her office door open when she finally remembered his vow about talking to Porter. Ash opened her mouth to tell him to hold off on that confession to her brother, but the words got stuck in her throat. Iris stood on the other side of the door.
A wide-eyed Iris.
Her friend's expression lived somewhere between shock and respect.
Dammitdammitdammit.
Iris had probably heard enough from the other side of the office door to know Vic hadn't been fixing Ash's computer.
“Good morning.” He kept striding as though nothing had happened. Only the Army could teach a man to beat a retreat like that.
Iris continued to gape. Ash's knees continued to wobble. Her heart refused to slow. If her friend hadn’t been standing there wearing a shell-shocked expression, Ash might have shoved her hand into her panties to finish the job Vic hadn't completed. Or, hell, she just might continue to stand there with her brain dribbling out.
Focus.
Iris didn't enter the office, though her gaze swept over Ash and the room. Papers were askew. Some were on the floor along with the stapler and three-hole puncher. By some miracle, they hadn't knocked over the cup of tar-like coffee he'd brought her.
Her friend swallowed. “Muffin?”
Still too stunned by the entire ordeal, Ash could only ask, “Really?”
Iris's snort quickly transformed into a belly-laugh. “I've got nothing.”
Ash wanted to slide to the floor into a puddle of sexual frustration and—well, she didn't have a word for how he'd left her. She would have searched for one, would have let the entire situation sink in, but she didn't need a witness to her unraveling.
And worse, Vic was right. She should run away from him—far and fast. His cold facade had been the kinder option compared to what he could do—flatten her fucking world. Yet when it came time to make good on his threats, he'd turned tender.
He hadn't uttered any word to demean her. He hadn't taken her the way he had to make her feel small or helpless. She'd asked for sex, and that's exactly what he'd tried to give her—a hard dick and an experience that would dry her mouth and race her heart. Exactly what she'd wanted and nothing more. None of his heart or kisses or laughter. And still, a tenderness had leaked into their lovemaking.
She gulped some air. She knew he wasn't and would never be 'just a fuck' to her. Ash was too riled up to muddle her way through everything, though. She ran her hands down her hair to straighten some of the outward mess.
Iris gasped. “Ashley, your arms.”
“What?” Ash glanced down.
Bruises had already begun to darken her forearms. She hadn't felt them, not really. A sting of pain, a slight discomfort, but that sensation had paled to the pleasure. But she knew that if they looked as dark and angry minutes after the fact, they would be ugly by the next day.
Ash uttered a curse, already knowing Vic's reaction. He'd want to grovel and drag himself through broken glass even though she'd confessed to liking the rough sex. Hell, she'd begged for it.
Iris asked, “Are you okay?”
Ash’s head was still reeling, her heart pounding and aching, but she was okay. “Yeah.”
Her friend swallowed, her eyes wide with uncertainty. “Did he hurt you?”
From the outside looking in, things probably did seem pretty bad. Even without climaxing, she'd just had one of the most mind-blowing experiences of her life. And her friend needed her to put together sentences.
“No,” Ash said slowly. “He didn't hurt me like that. The first time we had sex, I left marks on him. Apparently, it's our thing.”
Her friend closed the space between them and inspected the damage up close. “You're not just saying that?”
“Did you really think Vic could hurt me?”
And would he use the same rough tactics if she didn't answer his phone call or wore a short skirt to work?
She shook her head, adamant that wasn’t the case. “He may think I fart rainbows and skip through cotton candy fields, but you should know me better. If I were scared, I'd tell you.”
“If you're sure…”
“I'm sure.”
Iris sucked her teeth. “Well, it's official. Your thing with him is kind of kinky.”
Ash snorted. “You just want details, don't you?”
“Hell yes.”
She gave her friend the coffee and then kicked her out of the office.
It wasn't that Ash didn't want to share, but that she was still muddling through it herself. When she had a firm answer, Ash would talk to Vic. Until then she had to survive while her everything still throbbed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
~Gamer Truth: If life gets harder it probably means you just leveled up.~
Vic stared blankly at his computer screen, not really seeing the information being reported from the server.
Porter, I've been having sex with your sister. I'm so sorry.
Saying that would get him killed on sight. It had taken two years, a therapist and a regimen of pills to have a healthy fear of death again, but he had it. Could he take Porter in a fight? Likely, but for fuck’s sake, how did he come to even considering that?
Take the beating. It's well deserved.
His mind flashed back to the image of Ash bent over her desk, her ass bared and her pussy glistening from arousal. He'd taken her so fucking rough. Guilt should have sunk in, but instead, the memory made him hard enough to hammer nails. Shit, he could have built a damn house.
Porter, I think something more is going on between your sister and I.
“Something” and “more” were both such cop-outs. For the past week, she'd driven him to the brink. He'd finally broken and decided to return the favor. Maybe that, too, was a cop-out. She'd pushed like she always did. Gotten up in his face without an ounce of fear or a clue of just how dangerous he could be.
He'd wanted her to see just how fucked up he was and had ended up balls-deep inside her instead. Whatever willpower he used to have had ceased to exist. A twenty-year streak of avoiding complications were thrown down the toilet because the taste of her had turned into a constant craving.
It really turned me on, Vic.
Remembering her confession wasn't fucking helping either. There was no stopping the train wreck. He was choosing Ash, risking his friendships. And now he had to find a way to tell Porter.
The one thing you've ever asked of me, after all you've done for me...Porter, I can't do it anymore. I have to be with her. In whatever way I can.
A soft knock at his office door jolted him upright in his chair. Aw, shit. It was the woman from Ash's office. Iris. Her ebony strands were tucked into a bun. Although she looked casual in her skirt and short-sleeved blouse, he remembered her from HR. Her features were soft, though, at the moment, there was a hard glint in the brown-eyed gaze behind her red-rimmed glasses.
Aw, hell.
She said, “You look like you're about to have an aneurysm.”
That would be the better alternative. He still had to talk to Ash, give her fair warning her brother was going to be a big fucking bottle of crazy. The talk with Porter was weeks overdue, though. She'd understand. It's one of the things he'd made clear after their first time in bed.
At the moment though, he needed to deal with HR. “What's up?”
“I was going through your file and found some papers we missed. I need your John Hancock.”
