Take Me Harder

by Jackie Ashenden

  She’d taken him by surprise with her idea of posing as his girlfriend, and he’d just been trying to put her off, or at least trying to tell her why it was a really stupid idea. But she wasn’t listening.

  She thought it was about her freckles.

  It wasn’t. It was about her being the sexiest damn woman he’d ever seen and about him being a giant asshole who’d hurt her if given half the chance. Hell, he already had, that was clear. Yet she still wasn’t getting the message.

  He had to distance her, show her he was a prick. And maybe he could do it with those adorable freckles of hers, which she was clearly sensitive about and which he currently wanted to play connect-the-dots with, using his tongue.

  Show her how bad he was by using sex, for example. Hard, dirty, demanding sex. In her kitchen.

  Sure, tell yourself it’s about shocking her or frightening her. That it’s got nothing to do with the fact that you hurt her and want to make it better. That you just want her and you can’t resist any longer.

  Yeah, well, maybe it was those things too. Not that he could think right now, not when she gave the softest little moan and tentatively touched her tongue to his.

  It was as if she’d plugged him directly into a power socket, electricity shooting straight down his spine and straight to his cock.

  He lifted his other hand and slid his fingers deep into the softness of her hair, and that too felt exactly like he’d imagined, red curls all silky against his skin. He curled his fingers into a fist, pulling her head back, and a shocked gasp sounded deep in her throat.

  A gentleman would have stopped. Would have inquired politely as to whether she was okay and whether she wished him to continue.

  He wasn’t a fucking gentleman.

  He tightened his grip in her hair while his other hand gripped her jaw, and he pushed his tongue deeper into her mouth, chasing that sweetness, tasting her. She shuddered and he felt the light pressure of her hands on his chest. She was trembling, but he didn’t stop, kissing her harder, hotter. Demanding more because she had to know what he was capable of and what he’d been trying to protect her from.

  The scent of her drifted around him, a homey kind of smell that was like lavender underlain with something more musky, something more sensual. Feminine arousal.

  It sent his already racing libido into overdrive.

  He closed what distance there was between them, pressing his body up against the heat of hers, feeling the give of her breasts against his chest and the softness of her thighs against his.

  She made another helpless sound, which only made him want to do bad things to her. The worst kinds of things. Things Candy would have made him pay extra for, a lot extra.

  Gently he closed his teeth on her lip, nipping her, and she jerked against him, her hands now pushing against his chest.

  Good. Maybe now she was getting the message that he was an asshole and that expecting him not to be was a bad idea.

  He lifted his head, keeping a tight grip on her hair with one hand, holding on to her jaw with the other. Her eyes were huge and dark, her pupils dilated. The creamy skin of her cheeks had flushed a deep red, her mouth an even deeper red, and she was breathing very fast, very hard.

  Christ, he wanted to eat her right up.

  Little Red, meet the big bad wolf.

  “Now do you see why it’s a bad idea?” he demanded, ignoring the fact that his voice sounded like it had been dragged behind a car over rough asphalt for a hundred miles. “It’s not about your freckles, honey. No, scratch that, it’s entirely about your freckles. It’s about me wanting to lick each and every one of them, regardless of whether you want me to or not. It’s about the fact that you’re a sweet little virgin and there’s no way you can handle what I want to do to you.”

  She was shivering, the sun catching in her red-gold lashes as she stared up at him as if she’d never seen him before in all her life.

  And he couldn’t help pushing, because that was all he knew how to do, shifting against her, easing one knee between her bare legs, pressing the hard muscle of his thigh into the soft heat of her groin.

  Her eyes went even wider, another soft noise escaping from her.

  Stop, you fucking dick. You’ve made your damn point.

  But he didn’t stop. He kept pressing, not hard, just enough to make her shudder all over, her fingers curling into his chest, her nails digging into his skin.

  “R-Rush…” His name sounded all breathy and ragged, the sound of it slipping over his skin like the touch of her hand.

  “You shouldn’t want me,” he went on, soft and dark. “You shouldn’t care about me. And you wanna know why? Because I’m an asshole, honey. Because if you even give me a hint of encouragement, I’ll take your virginity and I won’t give a shit whether you can handle it or not. Understand?”

  She swallowed, the movement of her throat pressing against his fingertips and he couldn’t stop himself from stroking her, moving his thumb up and down the silky length of her neck, caressing.

  He saw another shiver go through her, the tremor visible, yet her expression shifted from shock into something he knew all too well: stubborn determination.

  “I understand,” she said hoarsely. “I also understand that you have no idea what I can handle. Maybe I want you to take my virginity. Maybe that’s exactly what I want, jackass.” Her hands moved, sliding up his chest and over his shoulders, around and up to the back of his neck, exerting pressure. “You want a hint? Here’s a hint.” Then she pulled his head down at the same time as she rose on her toes to meet his lips. Kissing him back.

  Oh, this little girl had no fucking idea. No fucking idea at all.

  Her mouth was open and hot under his, her hunger apparent in the desperate way she kissed him. She didn’t know what she was doing, that much was clear, and yet he found that the hottest thing in the entire fucking world.

  He growled, sliding his palm back up her throat, his fingers spreading out under her jaw and holding her there, gripping her so she couldn’t move.

  She thought she could handle him? He was about to prove her wrong.

  Keeping his mouth right where it was, hard and demanding on hers, he leaned forward, pressing his thigh harder against the heat between hers. Then he let go of her hair, reached for the hem of her tank top, and yanked it straight up.

  Ava gasped, her body stiffening, her hands moving to his shoulders, pushing at him, but he ignored her. Instead he lifted his head from her mouth and looked, because he wanted to see whether those sexy little freckles went all the way down.

  She was breathing fast and hard and tried to cover herself with her hands. But he gripped her wrists before she could and pulled them away. “Uh-uh, no hiding, honey,” he murmured. “I want to see those pretty tits of yours.”

  And fucking hell, they were pretty. In fact, he’d go so far as to say they were the prettiest he’d ever seen, so round and full, her raspberry-colored nipples hard and tight. And yeah, those freckles did go all the way down, standing out like gold dust against her creamy white skin.

  His mouth watered. Christ, he fucking ached. And it was disturbing to realize how much, especially when he’d never had such a reaction to a pair of tits before. He’d always thought one set of bare breasts was pretty much like another—he didn’t care, they were all good. But Ava’s…

  Holding on to her wrists, he bent his head, unable to resist the urge to taste her, circling one hard nipple lightly with his tongue. She shuddered in his grip, another harsh, sharp breath escaping from her, which only made him want to do worse things, dirtier things.

  He took both her wrists in one of his hands and shifted, pinning them behind her, so the edge of the counter and her own body held them captive. Then, with his free hand, he cupped her breast.

  The weight of it in his palm was just about perfect, soft and full, and he couldn’t stop staring, enjoying the contrast of his battered, scarred hand against her smooth, creamy skin. He lowered his head, breathed on the tig
ht, furled bud of her nipple, squeezing her gently.

  Her ribs expanded on a sharp inhalation, her arms tensing as she tried to pull away. So he did it again, breathing over her, watching goosebumps rise on her skin, pressing his thigh harder against the heat between her thighs as he did so, feeling her tremble in response.

  “I could make you come just like this.” He let his breath play over her again, watching the shivers pass over her skin. “Did you know that, honey? Just by breathing on your nipples. You’d get so desperate you’d have to rub your clit against my thigh to get some relief.”

  Her breasts rose and fell, her breathing fast and hard. “Is this supposed to be shocking?” she said thickly, still stubborn, even now. “Because it isn’t.”

  He glanced up at her flushed face, into her wide, copper-gold eyes. Little liar. This was shocking to her, he could see it in her gaze. He laughed softly. “Is that right? Tell me, how many guys have you had yanking your top up and playing with your tits?”

  Her mouth set in a hard line, her eyes glittering.

  “Honey, have you ever had a guy play with your tits?”

  Her gaze flickered away from his.

  “Holy shit,” he muttered, vaguely incredulous. “Has no one ever gotten to second base?”

  Come on, you didn’t have some idea of her inexperience when she kissed you?

  Okay, yeah, that had been a heads-up for sure. But maybe she hadn’t been kissed very often.

  Maybe she hasn’t been kissed at all.

  “No,” she said stiffly. “I told you I was a virgin.”

  He laughed, unable to help it. “Like that means anything these days. There’s lots of different kinds of virgins.”

  Ava said nothing, her head turned away, her body gone rigid in his hands.

  He stared at her. “Please tell me you’ve done something before.”

  Her expression had become fixed. “No. I haven’t done anything.”

  Jesus Christ on a goddamned bike. Nothing shocked him these days, but this? Yeah, consider him shocked. Pretty fucking shocked. Which was not how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to be the shocking one, not her. “Okay,” he said, struggling to understand the fact that when she’d said she was a virgin, she’d meant it. “But you’ve kissed a guy at least, right?”

  She remained quiet, looking over his shoulder at some point on the opposite wall.

  Fuck. She’d never even been kissed before.

  If she hasn’t been kissed before, then no one’s touched her before. No one’s done anything to her before.

  The thought hit him without warning, and all of a sudden he was breathless, his heart racing, his cock feeling like it was going to burst through his fucking zipper. He felt like a teenage boy riffling through a Victoria’s Secret catalogue and getting a hard-on for the first time.

  Virginity should not be a turn-on. Neither should the thought of being the first one to do these things to her. But something deeply primitive and wholly male inside him was very satisfied by that thought. It made him want to claim her, make her his in the most basic way possible.

  Oh, fuck no. He didn’t want to claim her. He didn’t want to claim anyone. He wanted to find his father, the man who’d seduced his mother away from her husband, and then hurt him, or maybe kill him—he hadn’t quite decided. And after that was done, well, he’d probably end up back in jail again, since beating the shit out of someone or actually killing them wouldn’t go down well with his parole officer.

  But that was okay. His life was pretty much fucked anyway. It wasn’t like it could get any worse.

  He glanced down at the soft, creamy flesh almost overflowing his palm and the delicious pink nipple practically begging for his tongue. At her flushed skin with its adorable dusting of freckles. At the battered blue denim covering his leg, thrust hard between her soft pale thighs.

  You mess with her, it will get worse. For her and for you.

  Christ, he’d started this to prove what an asshole he was, but suddenly he didn’t want to do that anymore. She had a lot going on, what with finding out the truth about her mom, and she didn’t need him being such a goddamn tool to her.

  He was so angry at just about everything, and it wasn’t her fault, and she didn’t deserve to have him take that anger out on her. Not like this. Not when she’d never even kissed a guy, for fuck’s sake.

  Sure, he was a bad guy, but he had a line, and Ava was it.

  Slowly Rush loosened his hold on her and stood back, ignoring the pressure of his dick and the way the loss of her warmth against him made him ache.

  She stood there, making no move to cover herself, staring at him bewildered. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going home,” he said shortly, and turned around before the sight of her, half naked and flushed, her mouth full and red from his kisses, made him change his mind. “I’ve got a whole lot of shit to do.”

  —

  He was leaving? He was actually goddamn leaving? After he’d kissed her? Pulled her top up and touched her? Made her shake and gasp and call his name?

  As Rush turned away, a small part of her wanted to curl up and crawl under the table and never come out again. Obviously her lack of experience had been a major turnoff. She should never have opened her big mouth.

  But another part of her, the determined, rebellious part, thought, No. Oh, hell no.

  She’d decided she wanted him, told him he could have her, let him touch her, kiss her. And he was not walking away, not if she had anything to say about it.

  “So that’s it?” she demanded. “You’re leaving? I thought it was supposed to be me not being able to handle you. Who’d have guessed it would be you not being able to handle me?”

  Rush stopped but didn’t turn, his wide shoulders tense. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  Furious, Ava took a step toward him. “You stupid idiot. I’m the only person in this damn room who does know what they’re talking about. Because you sure as hell don’t.”

  This time he did turn, his gaze glittering with an anger she didn’t understand. Because what right did he have to be angry? He wasn’t the one who’d been given a taste of something exciting and thrilling and different and wonderful, only to have it be taken away at the last minute. “Why? You actually wanted me to fuck you right here in your kitchen?” he demanded, a cruel edge to his tone. “When you seriously have no idea what you’re even asking for?”

  “Don’t you dare tell me—”

  “Do you have any condoms?”

  She blinked. “I…uh…no, of course I don’t.”

  “No, of course you fucking don’t,” he echoed. “Because virgins never have to think about these things.”

  She could feel a dull heat creeping through her cheeks, drowning out the hot rush of pleasure and arousal and leaving humiliation in its wake. Slapping her in the face with her own inexperience was low, even for him. “Don’t you have some? Doesn’t every guy have at least one in his wallet?”

  His scarred lip curled. “Nope. I used them all up with Candy a couple of days ago.”

  Oh, right. Candy the stripper. The humiliation deepened, though she couldn’t imagine why.

  Sure you can. You don’t want to be reminded that you’re not that special.

  “You don’t like that?” There was no hiding the cruel tone now, or the sneer that twisted his mouth. “Does hearing about my stripper lover make you feel all jealous?” The look in his eyes was hard. “Well, if you want me, sweetheart, you’d better get used to it. Because I’m not a one-woman guy and I never will be.”

  She knew he was doing this deliberately, that for some reason he was trying to make himself the bad guy to keep her at a distance. But he didn’t have to do it like that. He didn’t have to make her feel so small and humiliated. Or use a couple of well-chosen words to hook into all her vulnerabilities, making her feel again like the lonely kid she’d once been.

  Fury rose up inside her, a fury she’d alway
s tried to keep locked away. It slipped out of her grasp and flooded through her, thick and hot, burning away everything in its path.

  Ava strode right up to him, not caring that she was half naked, her breasts bouncing as she walked. Not caring that her hair was everywhere and that he could probably see the effect of his cruel words written in ten-foot-high letters across her face.

  Not caring about anything much apart from the fact that she was full of rage and he’d more than proved his point: he was being the biggest ass in the world. Correction—the biggest ass in the entire goddamn universe.

  She stopped right in front of him, and before she could think twice about what she was doing, she raised her hand and punched him hard in the face.

  It was not like in the movies, where there was a crack and the person’s head flew back, and the person punching landed another hit with gloriously unbruised knuckles.

  No, punching Rush was like punching a brick wall. His head did not snap back nor did he drop to the ground, and her hand hurt like hell.

  He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what she’d just done. Then he blinked and raised a hand to his jaw, rubbing at it. Something was beginning to spark in his eyes, a fury to match her own. “What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  Well, that was a dumb thing to do.

  Yes, it probably was.

  She swallowed, her throat dry, her knuckles hurting, the adrenaline firing through her making her shaky all of a sudden. But she wasn’t backing down, not now. “You’re going to hurt me, I’ll hurt you,” she said flatly. “And don’t tell me you didn’t deserve that, because you did.”

  That fury flickered in his gaze, burning higher. His hand dropped from his jaw. The mocking cruelty had faded, his mouth now in a hard line.

  He suddenly looked bigger, taller. Towering over her in a way no other man ever had. Massive shoulders and wide chest. Powerful arms. Never had she been more conscious of the fact that his body was a weapon, and if he wanted to, he could probably knock her unconscious with a tap of his little finger.

  Yes, punching him was probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.