by Naomi West
I whimpered into the kiss, wordlessly begging for more. My hands roved over his pecs and out to his biceps, fingertips digging into his muscles as I tried to find something — anything — to ground myself with. I felt practically consumed by fiery passion, though, as though all the bickering and tension of the past few days was culminating in this moment. As one of his hands slipped down my side and landed against my lower back to pull me even closer, I groaned, dropping my forehead down to rest against his collarbone.
“I want to take you apart, until you're practically screaming my name,” Rip growled, pushing me back so that I lay flat against the bed as he crawled on top of me. He settled over me, catching the hem of my shirt in his hands and tugging it unceremoniously up over my head. He grinned down at me, catching a handful of my breast and squeezing it through the bra. “That's a pretty bra you have on, considering that you were practically kidnapped...”
I blushed a little and squirmed beneath his touch, already desperate for more. I bit my lip as he reached behind me and deftly unhooked my bra, pulling it away to reveal my pale boobs. He leaned down to nibble and suck at the nub of my left breast. I couldn't help the gasp that slipped out, and I arched against him, wanting so much more. He grinned up at me and moved to the other breast, repeating his ministrations until both my nipples were puckered and pert.
Belatedly, I reached up to undo the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel skin-on-skin contact. But the buttons kept slipping from my shaking fingers as he explored the area between my jaw and my breasts using his tongue, teeth, and the rough pads of his fingers.
Finally, he pulled back, laughing a little, and began removing his own shirt, revealing plane after plane of tanned skin and solid muscle. I licked my lips, feeling the sudden urge to taste every inch of the skin that he uncovered. “Like what you see?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
I stared unabashedly at him, not even sure what words to use to convey just how much I liked what I saw. I could feel my panties becoming wet, though, and I was sure that would be indication enough, if he would ever quit teasing my areolas and move someplace lower.
Suddenly unable to take it anymore, I moved my hands to my own jeans and started to undo them, needing to feel more than teasing touches through the fabric. But Rip caught my hands and pinned them up above my head. “I don't think so,” he said, leaning in to murmur against the shell of my ear. He trailed the very tip of his tongue down to the earlobe and grazed his teeth gently against the fleshy bit of skin there, making me writhe against the sheets.
“Rip,” I whimpered, twisting my wrists in a vain attempt to free them. “Please, I need more. Please.”
“How long has it been since a man touched you like this?” Rip asked, grinding down against me and igniting my need even more, if that was possible.
I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut. “Please,” I tried again.
“How long?” Rip repeated, pulling back almost entirely, so that the only points of contact between us were his hand pinning my wrists and his knees on either side of my hips.
“Eight months,” I finally gasped, even though I was embarrassed by the admission. “I haven't ... in eight months.”
“Hollande not interested in it?” Rip asked, sounding surprised.
I shivered a little. “I wasn't,” I told him. “Hollande wanted to ... a couple times. But I wasn't...” I could feel shame taking over my expression, but Rip leaned down to kiss that away.
“Good,” he said gruffly. “I figured you must be smarter than all of that.”
I giggled a little, hardly believing when the noise came out of my mouth. But almost as a reward, he moved his mouth down, trailing it below my navel and spreading my thighs. He lingered there for a moment, tasting the skin between my navel and my core, making me tremble with desire. But finally, he reached for the closure of my jeans and swiftly removed them, replacing the warmth of my panties with the warmth of his mouth.
“Oh fuck,” I gasped, surprised by the touch. “That feels...” I trailed off, pressing my face against my arm but still keeping my wrists pinned up above my head. I whined, wanting to touch Rip. But I wasn't going to go against what he wanted…
“Oh yeah?” Rip asked, grinned wickedly up at me.
He continued to flick his tongue over my nub, trailing his fingers over the sensitive parts that his mouth wasn't touching. Just the very tip of his tongue breached my entrance, and I whined, needing more than that. But he continued to take things slow, to draw hushed noises of pleasure out of me.
Suddenly, it was all too much, and I shifted my hips desperately, suddenly wondering how much he wanted me to lie there and take it and how much he wanted for me to fight against him, show him the pleasures that he deserved to receive. There was, of course, no denying that he wanted me to come before the night was over, but that didn't mean that was all he wanted.
I looped my feet behind him and urged him back closer, trying to slot my lips to his. This kiss was more frenzied than the previous ones that we had shared, and I wondered if underneath it all, he was just as turned on and over-stimulated as I was.
“Yes,” Rip suddenly hissed, his voice low and needy-sounding as I ground up against him.
I couldn't help my amusement, my face twisting into a grin as he ground down against me, trying desperately to get the same angle, where I could feel his hard, thick length pressing in between my folds. “Take these off,” I whispered, tugging at his pants.
Rip pulled back for just a moment before complying, pulling a condom out of his pocket before revealing first his boxer-briefs and then his naked form. He was every bit as impressive as I'd expected him to be, and I couldn't wait to feel him inside of me, now unfettered by our layers.
I pressed my head against the pillow and reached for my own panties, pulling down the flimsy, pink thong before he even had a hand on it. “You have no idea how badly I need you,” I informed him as I flung my panties carelessly off to the side.
“Oh yeah?” he asked, dipping a hand down between my legs.
“Yeah,” I agreed breathlessly, pressing down against his fingers. No matter how much I willed my hips to stay still, I seemed to have met my match, faced with his thick fingers plunging towards my core. He was hitting all the right spots, making me whimper and gasp with need. I could come easily like this, I realized, with his fingers scissoring ruthlessly inside of me.
And he kept changing up the angle, the rhythm, the feeling, every time I started to get used to the feeling of him there inside of me. I couldn't help moaning against the sheets, digging my heels in as I shivered against him. “Could come so easily,” I informed him breathlessly.
He smiled down at me, looking pleased with himself. “So come for me,” he murmured, lips ghosting along my jawline. He changed the rhythm of his fingers one final time, dragging them down the walls of my pussy, and I cried out as my climax washed over me in wave after wave of pleasure.
Before I'd even managed to string together a coherent thought, he was there, pressing the tip of his member up against my hole, pushing slowly in. I could feel my sheath shuddering against him already, trying to accommodate his wonderful girth. He finally bottomed out, and I reveled in the feeling of having him there, all around me and filling me from the inside too.
He paused like that for a moment, and given the look on his face, I didn't know if he was giving me more time to adjust to the breach or if he was pausing to give himself a chance to calm down a little so he didn't come right away.
When he actually started moving, beginning with just a few slow movements back and forth, sliding easily through my slick passageway, we moaned almost simultaneously. He pulled out until just the very tip of his penis was still inside of me and then shoved back inside, and I arched against him, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to. I clung to him as he repeated this movement, increasing the pace until it was almost too much for me to bear.
My body drew taut with pleasure, and my soft pleas grew
louder and louder. With one final, quick push into me, he sent me spiraling through yet another climax. This time, when I orgasmed, he did as well, his hips jerking against mine as he lost the rhythm and then stilling as he spilled.
He collapsed down onto me, but I didn't mind the weight. I enjoyed the closeness and the warmth, and it grounded me a little, brought me back to where I was. Finally, he pulled away, and I blinked muzzily up at him. “That was—”
Before I could finish the thought, he put a finger over my lips, shushing me. He carefully arranged us both under the covers, pulling me back to rest against his chest. “That was sex,” he told me. “Nothing more, nothing less. Just sex.”
Something inside of me ached at hearing that, but I knew that was true. Once these packages were delivered, I definitely was never going to see him again, and I was going to make every effort to make sure he couldn't find me even if he wanted to. This was just sex. Just lust, just attraction, just getting out some tension. Just sex.
I fell asleep with those words playing through my head. Just sex.
Chapter Fourteen
Rip
The next morning when I woke up, I could almost believe that nothing had happened the night before, except that Liv and I were both still naked there beneath the sheets. But she was over on the far side of the bed, her back to me, and we weren't touching. It was just a normal morning.
I winced a little, thinking back to the previous night. I couldn't say that I hadn't enjoyed it. I couldn't say that I didn't want to do it again, especially with my morning wood pressing firmly up against the sheets. But I also knew that what we'd done the previous night was only going to complicate things, if not now, then further down the line. And the last thing I needed now were any more complications. It was enough that there was all this drama with Olivia, with Damien, with Hollande…
I disentangled myself from the sheets and grabbed my clothes, bringing them into the bathroom with me. As I stood there beneath the water, scrubbing viciously at my skin, I thought about the mission. I didn't like the idea of leaving Liv behind while I went to the prison, knowing as I did that she didn't support the mission, that she didn't think it was right for me to be delivering the packages for Cat. I was kind of worried that as soon as I let her out of my sight, she'd go to the authorities—and at this point, she knew every detail of the plan, really, and it would be easy enough for the police to catch me redhanded.
On the other hand, I couldn't very well take her with me. Not only would it seem strange for us both to be visiting Grace, but I also couldn't trust Liv not to alert the guards about the plan as soon as she could. She would never help deliver the packages; her moral compass was too strongly pointed in the other direction.
For a wild moment, I thought about contacting Damien, seeing if there were any other Gemini Riders in the area who could come and watch over Liv while I delivered the packages. But that would mean one more person getting caught up in this mess, and anyway, it wasn't like Liv needed a babysitter. And I didn't want to admit that I couldn't do this on my own or that I couldn't fix the mess that I'd made.
There had to be some way to do it.
When I left the bathroom, Liv was sitting up on the edge of the bed, the sheet pulled around her bare skin. She looked over at me, biting her lower lip in a way that made me want to pull her up and kiss her some more. But that couldn't happen again.
“I'm going to leave you here while I deliver the package,” I told her gruffly. “But any sort of funny business ... well, I remind you, you're an accomplice in this. And although you may be able to strike some sort of deal with the authorities for turning yourself and the rest of us in, you're not going to come out scot-free. You would have to do jail time, and you would have a record. And when you got out, Cat's friends would be gunning for you.”
She looked pale and scared, and I almost felt sorry for her. But I pushed that feeling aside. “I know,” she said quietly, and I could tell that there was something more that she wanted to say, but she held back.
I nodded at her and grabbed my knapsack, shoving the first of the packages inside. “I'll be back in a little while,” I reminded her. “Don't leave the room.”
“Okay,” she agreed, pulling the sheet closer around herself. When I had my hand on the doorknob, she quietly said, “Rip?”
“What?” I asked, not bothering to turn around.
“Be careful,” she said.
I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what to say to that. Normally, some sort of flippant response would have been easy for me, but after last night, knowing that she genuinely wanted me to be careful, remembering that gut instinct telling me that she was, for some reason, looking out for my own wellbeing instead of just for herself? I couldn't just give her some sort of flippant response.
Finally, I nodded, but that was all the acknowledgement I could give her. I opened the door and left the room.
I got to the prison right when visiting hours were starting, not wanting to delay this any more than I had to. To my surprise, though, Cherri was standing outside when I arrived, smoking a cigarette. I could tell she was trying to appear nonchalant, but I could see tension in the way she held herself, and I knew she was scanning the parking lot looking for me. I rolled my eyes a little. What, had she thought that I wouldn't show up?
I strode confidently towards the doors, wondering if I should greet her as I walked past or if that would look too suspicious. In the end, I made up my mind to just walk straight by her. Better for everyone involved if it didn't look like we were involved in anything.
“Call it off,” Cherri muttered under her breath though as I started to walk past her.
I froze, staring at the doors, and fought the urge to turn towards her.
“They're about to do a sweep of the cells,” Cherri continued. “We'll have to wait until later in the week.”
I continued to pause and then shook my head, as though I'd decided I didn't want to see Grace after all. I turned and walked back to my bike, fighting the urge to sprint. They didn't have anything on me yet; Cherri had seen to that. But it reminded me again of what Liv had been saying, about all the ways that this could go wrong. I got back on my bike and rode back to the motel, trying to ignore a faint clamminess to my hands.
I wasn't about to chicken out, but maybe it was time I asked Damien for a little more advice.
Chapter Fifteen
Liv
The motel staff were nice enough to charge up my phone for about twenty minutes after Rip left for the prison. I wasn't sure exactly how far away the prison was or how long he would end up staying there talking to his ex, but I knew I had to do things quickly.
I had had enough. I didn't plan to go to the authorities, even though I knew that was probably what I should do. I was too worried about what they might do to me, though, too worried about all the things that Rip had said that morning. But surely if I removed myself from the situation, if I went back home and resumed my normal life, then even if Rip got caught delivering the packages or something else happened that wasn't supposed to happen, surely the authorities would see that I had no involvement in this, that I hadn't wanted anything to do with it.
Without a car, I didn't really know how I was going to escape.Until I realized that I knew someone who was probably still there in the area and willing to help me out. I sent Hollande a text asking him to meet me in the hotel lobby as soon as possible.
I went back upstairs to shower, wishing that I could just wash away all of this nightmare, but the longer I stood there under the spray, the more I regretted that text to Hollande. I didn't want him to think I wanted him. I didn't want him to think I was some damsel that needed rescuing. And as much as I was frustrated with him at the moment, I didn't want him to be implicated in all of this as well. By asking him to meet me here, I was making him a liability, and that wasn't right.
When I went back out to my phone, though, ready to tell him not to come, there was just enough battery left to show m
e his expected arrival time, twenty minutes from now. Then, the battery died again, the screen fading to black. I swallowed hard, staring down at it for a long moment, and then I reluctantly got dressed and went down to the lobby to meet him.
Hollande breezed into the lobby with a smug air about himself. “Darling,” he said, kissing my cheek and then cupping my face in his hands. “You can always tell me when you're in a bad situation, you know,” he chided. “You don't have to make up stories and try to save yourself. Of course that man wasn't your secret lover. Don't think I believed that for a second.”
I thought back to the previous night, wondering what Hollande would think if he knew that I had actually had sex with Rip. My gut churned unpleasantly, and I shrugged off his hands, pulling back away from him.
