Take Me Harder

by Jackie Ashenden

  Fifteen minutes later, she’d found a parking spot on a downtown street not far from the club. Night was starting to close in and the bars were all bustling, music flooding into the streets from open doorways and windows.

  Sugar Daddy’s was fairly new, and from the outside it looked more like a respectable bar than a strip club—or it would have if not for the sketchy men hanging around the entrance.

  Ignoring them, she put on her cop face, which tended to make people stand aside for her or at the very least leave her alone. Sure enough, she managed to get inside without being hassled.

  The doorman still insisted she pay the ridiculously expensive cover charge even though she tried to tell him she was only looking for a friend. Briefly she debated pulling out her badge, but then decided it wouldn’t be right to do so, not when she wasn’t on duty. So she shut up, paid the charge, and went down the dark corridor.

  Inside the club, the light was dim and she couldn’t see much. On the stage some women revolved around poles, pasties sparkling in the spotlights as they shimmied and bent and did some other sorts of contortions that made Ava hurt just to look at them. Groups of men were clustered around the stage, some waving bills and cheering, some just sitting back and watching.

  Scantily clad waitresses moved among the tables, delivering drinks, smiling at the clientele, and tucking tips down the necklines of their skintight black dresses.

  Ava squinted, trying to see if she could spot Rush at any of the tables near the stage, but there didn’t look to be any sign of him.

  Sighing, she moved further into the club, looking around and feeling vaguely self-conscious. It was so much easier to do this in her uniform rather than in a pair of plain black pants and a light blue T-shirt. She never felt out of place in her uniform. She felt powerful, confident. She knew what she was doing. She felt in control.

  In civilian clothes she felt lost, not at all like herself. Just an ordinary, plain woman with nothing special about her.

  Ava slid her hand into the pocket of her pants and gripped the badge she’d put in there earlier for a bit of comfort. A reminder of who she was and what she’d achieved, not to mention a reminder of what she was here to do.

  It wasn’t until she was near the bar that she finally spotted him.

  Rush was leaning back against it, propped on his elbows, the gold in his hair glinting in the dim lights overhead, while flashes from the spotlights on stage illuminated the hard, scarred planes and angles of his face. A half-naked woman was pressed up against his front, her hand on his chest, and he was looking down at her, a lazy, heated grin curling his sexy mouth.

  A bolt of something that felt horribly like possessiveness shot through Ava.

  She didn’t have a problem with strippers. They were working women like her, doing their best to earn a living, and if they did it by taking off their clothes, then so be it. But for some reason she had a real problem with this particular stripper and the way the woman had her hand spread across Rush’s chest. As if she owned him.

  That just wasn’t happening.

  Before she could think twice about why she was doing it, Ava strode toward the pair, and this time she had no issue with reaching into her pocket and sliding her badge out.

  “Excuse me,” she announced, flashing the badge. The stripper gave her a filthy look while Rush’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’m with the sheriff’s department and I need to speak with this man.”

  “Oh, Christ,” Rush muttered. “Here comes the fun police.”

  The stripper sniffed, giving her a contemptuous glance up and down. “Seriously? You don’t look like a cop to me.”

  “Check the badge.” Ava waved it in front of her face again. “Step aside, please, miss.”

  “Jesus, Ava.” The expression on Rush’s face was distinctly unfriendly as the stripper reluctantly stepped back from him. “What the fuck are you doing here? You’re harshing my buzz, and let me tell you, I don’t like it when my buzz is harshed.”

  “I don’t like it either,” the stripper said. “Especially when I’ve got money to make.”

  “Then go make it somewhere else.” Ava ignored the hostility radiating from Rush’s powerful form, looking at the stripper instead. “This guy’s mine.”

  “Candy, don’t listen to her,” Rush said, reaching for the woman as she began to turn away. “Come back, sweetheart. I’ll make it worth your while upstairs. Give me ten minutes.”

  But Candy must have had enough, because she just lifted a shoulder, tossed her hair, and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Ava alone with one very pissed-off ex-con.

  There was a thick, uncomfortable silence.

  Rush stared at her, his eyes glittering, the smile on his lips not in any way a pleasant one. “Well, thanks for that, honey,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “You just fucking ruined my evening.”

  “I don’t care about your evening.” Ava folded her arms over the heart thundering uncomfortably in her chest. She didn’t like his hostility and that disturbed her, mainly because it meant she was perilously close to caring what he thought of her and she really didn’t want that. “You were supposed to get in contact with me and you didn’t.”

  He kept staring at her for another beat, then abruptly let out a long breath and relaxed back against the bar, looking away from her over to the stage where another lot of girls had come on. “Hey, if you want to continue where we left off in the kitchen a few nights ago, just say so.” His voice was back to its usual lazy, drawling self. “You don’t need to use bullshit excuses for coming to see me.”

  A hot shock went through her at the mention of what had happened between them a couple of nights ago, heat slowly rising to her face. “I’m not here for that. I’m here because you promised me you were going to look into Jimmy Troy. But I hadn’t heard anything and—”

  “I don’t take cock-blocking well,” he interrupted, his gaze still on the stage. “And this is the second time you’ve done it. So what’s your backup plan, little girl?” Slowly he turned to glance at her. “Because unless someone’s getting down on their knees to give my dick a bit of attention, I’m not telling you shit.”

  Ava took a breath, staring back at him. She knew this shtick by now. He got rude when he was angry, and judging from the hot, glittering look in his eyes, he was angry right now. It was in his voice too, the edge she’d heard when Quinn had walked in on them.

  It hadn’t been mere anger then, and it wasn’t now. It was fury.

  “What?” he asked softly, lazily. “Don’t know who that someone might be? Here’s a hint. Not me.”

  She ignored the innuendo, frowning at him. “Where did you get to today? And what happened?”

  A flash of surprise crossed his face, then disappeared. “Less talking. More kneeling.”

  She ignored that too. “Zane said you were upset about something.”

  Rush stiffened. “Upset? He said I was fucking upset?” Just for a moment she heard it bleeding through, that deep, hot anger coloring his words. Then he turned around sharply and slapped the bar hard with the flat of his palm. “Bartender! A fucking bourbon, stat! No, make that five. And another round for all the other fuckers here.”

  A chorus of cheers went up from the people around the bar. The barman grinned and grabbed a bottle of bourbon from the shelf, bringing it over to where Rush stood.

  That’s when she noticed that there were already five shot glasses sitting on the bar in front of him. And they were all empty.

  Correction. She wasn’t dealing with one furious ex-con. She was dealing with one furious, drunk ex-con.

  Hell. What had gone on today? Something bad if he was in here drowning his sorrows, because this was not normal Rush behavior—at least not the Rush she knew, the caring friend. Where was that man?

  She studied him, noting the shake in his hand as he reached for the glass the bartender had just filled and the blood on his knuckles. He had his other hand flat on the top of the bar and his fingers were rigid, as if h
e was putting pressure on it, trying to hold himself up.

  A surge of protectiveness gripped her. What had happened to him? Because something had and it looked like something violent. Something that had made him furious.

  Then again, anger seemed his default position these days. Oh, he hid it well, but she sensed it all the same, always there. Like an underground fire, sullenly burning. Why? All those years in jail for something he hadn’t done would definitely piss a man off, but was there more to it than that? And why had he taken the fall for Charlie Jones’s death anyway? She knew Joseph Redmond had had a thing about family loyalty, and her memories of Rush had always been of him taking care of her, protecting her. He had a deep well of caring in him, and it hadn’t surprised her that he’d volunteered to take the rap for Charlie’s death, protecting his father and brother.

  But what had happened to turn all that caring sour? To curdle it into this blazing fury?

  The protectiveness in her deepened. He’d helped her when she’d been a kid. Showing her kindness and attention when it seemed like no one cared. Which meant that whatever it was he was dealing with now, she would help him.

  It was the right thing to do, after all.

  “Rush,” she said quietly as he picked up the glass. “What’s wrong? Why are you so angry?”

  “I can still hear you, which means you’re not sucking my dick yet. You might want to get on that.” He gave a sudden snort of laughter. “Shit. Get on that. Fuck, I slay even myself.” Throwing his head back, he drained the glass, then slammed it back on the bar. “Another, my good man!”

  Ava was used to picking up drunks in her job, and she knew when a man was close to falling down wrecked. Rush was teetering on the brink right now.

  As the barman approached with the bottle, she caught his eye and gave a small shake of her head, flashing her badge again. The guy blinked, then retreated.

  “What the fuck?” Rush turned after him. “Hey, someone’s dying of thirst over here.”

  The sensible thing to do would be to leave him, since hauling around a large, drunken man wasn’t exactly going to be easy. And she didn’t especially appreciate the way he was using her for target practice.

  But she was going to help him anyway. Besides, he’d taken her home when she’d been drunk. Had fed her milk and cookies and made sure she was okay. Sure, it wasn’t like he was in any physical danger from anyone in the same way an intoxicated woman was, but still. She wasn’t comfortable with the thought of him being in a drunken stupor in a strip club. They’d probably throw him out onto the street before too much longer and he’d get picked up by the cops anyway. And that wouldn’t be good for him. His parole officer would definitely have something to say about that.

  The only problem was trying to convince him to come with her, since she was guessing he wouldn’t want to. Which meant if she wanted to get him out of here, she was going to have to get creative.

  Maybe she needed to give him some incentive. She didn’t have any booze, though, and she didn’t want to give him any more anyway, which left her with only one other option.

  She was going to have to use herself.

  Coming on to a guy wasn’t something she’d ever done before, and she had to admit it made her nervous, especially considering the man she was coming on to. But surely it couldn’t be too difficult. Hell, she’d given him a pretty good lap dance for a virgin, so there wasn’t any reason she couldn’t flirt a little, even give him a taste of his own medicine.

  Deliberately Ava reached out and put a hand on his back. Immediately a prickling sensation swept over her skin, like an electrical current passing over her entire body, and she had to force herself to keep her hand where it was. God, he was hot. She could feel the heat of his skin even through the cotton of the dark blue T-shirt he wore.

  Rush turned his head sharply and scowled down at her, the powerful muscles of his back tensing beneath her palm. “What are you doing?”

  She tried to make herself relax. This was easy, wasn’t it? The stripper had been doing it just before and it certainly looked easy. All you had to do was get close and…press yourself against him. Perhaps giggle a bit and flutter your eyelashes. Nothing major.

  Her heart beating even harder, Ava slid her hand up and down his spine in a stroking motion, trying to make her eyelashes flutter. “You…uh…wanted some attention, right? So…come with me and maybe I’ll give you that attention.”

  He blinked, his gaze unfocused. Then quite suddenly it sharpened on her like a hunter locking onto a target. He turned around to face her and with an abrupt shock she became conscious that there was very little space between them. That his chest was right in front of her, the cotton of his T-shirt pulling tight, showing the delineation of all that hard, cut muscle. That he was very tall, far taller than her. Which made her feel small and delicate, not at all the big, outsized oaf she felt like next to Duchess or, indeed, any other woman, since she tended to be taller than most of them.

  No. Right now, with him, she felt very, very female for the first time in her life.

  She shivered, gripped by the almost uncontrollable urge to touch him. To place her hand on that broad, hard chest, to feel his heat against her palm again.

  Bad move. Very, very bad move.

  She swallowed. Yes, she knew that, and yet if she wanted him to come with her, she was going to have to at least act like she wanted to do what he was hoping she’d do.

  You do want to do it.

  Maybe she did. Maybe she was tired of being a virgin. Maybe she wanted to see what it would be like to touch a man and have him touch her.

  Maybe she wanted the first man she slept with to be Rush.

  He was looking at her, his eyes full of some kind of ferocious emotion she didn’t understand. “You serious, honey? ’Cause I meant what I said. You want that information, you’re going to have to pay for it.”

  “H-how do I know you’ve got the information?” Wow, could her voice get any more breathless?

  “Oh, I’ve got it, don’t you worry.”

  Dimly she knew this was important, but the sheer physical reality of him standing right in front of her was making it difficult to think about anything else.

  Slowly she reached out and put her hand on his chest, feeling firm muscle and warm cotton under her fingertips. She made herself hold his gaze and tried to ignore the dizzy feeling it gave her, like she was falling off a cliff and there was no one to catch her. “Then…o-okay.” She was sure she sounded convincing. “Just…not here.”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth and the prickling heat sensation deepened. “Awww, I guess the little virgin doesn’t like an audience, huh?” His words were slurring now and there was pressure against her hand where it rested on his chest, as if he couldn’t quite keep himself upright and was leaning into her. “Upstairs, then.” He gave her another grin, making something kick hard low inside her. “Gotta tell you, though, it might take a while to get me off. I’ve had a couple of bourbons.”

  More than a couple, that was certain.

  She shook her head, partly to clear away the insistent heat that was crawling all over her skin, making her feel restless and achy and very much like telling him, Yes, let’s go upstairs. “No,” she said instead. “I’m thinking we could go home. Back to my place.” Where he could sleep it off in private without his brothers around and where she could keep an eye on him.

  Totally nothing to do with the shivery sensation in her stomach and the urge she had to run her hands all over his hard body. Nope, nothing to do with that at all.

  Rush’s vivid eyes widened. “Your place? Kinky. But what about your dad? Fuck, he’d gut me. And then he’d kill me. And then he’d probably throw me in jail.”

  He wasn’t wrong. But luckily her father had left for a conference earlier that day and he’d be away for at least another five.

  “Dad’s not here.” She moved her thumb, unable to help herself, stroking the warm cotton of his T-shirt, her mouth drying at the firm f
eeling of him beneath it. “He’s gone to a sheriffs’ conference. He’ll be away for a while.”

  Rush’s lashes fell, his gaze turning hot, glittering from under them. “Well, in that case…When the cat’s away, the mice will screw themselves silly.”

  She took an unsteady breath. Really, she should stop touching him, because it was doing stupid things to her. Making her think about actually going through with it. Actually getting him home, then getting down on her knees…

  A finger caught her beneath her chin, tipping her head back, and she realized with a shock that she’d been staring down his body, her mouth dry with want. She blinked up at him, knowing she should pull away and yet not being able to.

  He was staring down at her, one corner of that fascinating, scarred mouth curling up in a smile that made her heart race even harder. “Gimme a taste, honey,” he said softly, in that smooth, hot drawl of his. “Just a little one. Been thinking about your mouth all fucking week.”

  Another wave of heat went through her. He’d been thinking about her mouth? Seriously? She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from him.

  God, she hadn’t kissed a guy before. Not even one. Because back in high school, when all her friends had been running around after boys, she’d been studying hard to get the best grades possible, not to mention mooning after Rush. And even when she’d stopped mooning and finally gotten into the police academy, she hadn’t been interested in guys. She hadn’t wanted anything to get in the way of being the best cop she could, and up until this moment, it hadn’t bothered her that she hadn’t.

  Now though, she’d found she’d changed her mind. Maybe if she’d kissed a guy before, she wouldn’t be trembling. She wouldn’t be feeling like her heart was going to explode. She wouldn’t be feeling like she would go up in flames the second his mouth touched hers.

  Because this was Rush, and no matter how much she denied all those intense teenage feelings she’d once had, they were still there. The helpless need, the deep longing. But this time it was different. This time she wasn’t a teenager but a woman.