Seth (Damage Control #3)

by Jo Raven

  And so the fuck what? Not like I expected more. Not from a girl like her. I bet she’ll soon get over this Freddy and find someone real good for her—someone rich and safe and sane, in full contrast to me. Someone who isn’t me—a bum just off the street, with Native blood, tats and an attitude.

  Someone without a criminal record. With a job. With knowledge of all the things she likes—ballet, music, art.

  All I have are my sketches, and why would she care about those?

  The gray dawn light coming in from the window outlines her form in silver. The soft roundness of her cheeks, her small chin, the wide arcs of her dark brows, her long lashes casting long shadows. A dark valley runs down between her tits, their softness ready to spill from her cleavage.

  Fuck, I’m hard between our bodies, my dick a steel rod trying to push out of my sweats. She’s so sexy.

  I’d draw her. I’d take photos of her. Sculpt her, paint her—hold her, kiss her, touch her until I’ve mapped every inch of her smooth skin.

  Shifting helplessly against her, I hiss out in pleasure. My dick throbs, pressed between her belly and mine. I want her so much it hurts. I stroke my hand down her arm, and she buries her face in my shoulder and tightens her hold on me. Her dress hikes higher as she moves her leg over mine, rubbing against me.

  Rubbing against my cock and balls, sending bolts of crazy need deep into me.

  Shit. I throw my head back, press my lips together and struggle to keep back a moan, to keep from rutting against her until I come.

  Christ.

  Then again… I lift my head, look down at her. I’m her boyfriend now, right? Her pretend boyfriend, whatever. I’m down with that. The one who’s gonna show her what it’s really like, having a boyfriend who cares about her, about her pleasure, about her body, about her everything.

  Which includes sex. Definitely includes sex, and waking her up with pleasure is part and parcel of it.

  Right? I never had a real girlfriend, either. Prison and homelessness don’t exactly lend themselves to relationships. I’m not boyfriend material, despite my claims, but I’d do anything to try it with her.

  Hey, I know how it should be. What couples do. I’ve watched the people around me. And I’ve read tons of romance novels while recovering from my injuries. Tons. Swear to God.

  That should help, right?

  As for sex… I’ve had my fair share of that, so at least there I’m on solid ground.

  Still my heart hammers fit to burst through my ribcage as I stroke her hair back from her face and tangle my legs with her, so I can roll over her on the couch. She wakes up, then, face scrunching up as I lay her on her back.

  She’s still wearing those old-fashioned black pumps, and I caress the length of her legs upward, from her slim ankles, past her knees, under the flared skirt of her dress to reach her panties.

  “Seth?” Her voice is smoky with sleep, her eyes heavy-lidded, her mouth slack. She’s goddamn perfect, and the hot wave of desire that rolls through me threatens to take me under. “What are you doing?”

  “Showing you.” I tug on the lacy material with more gentleness than I thought possible, the way my body is arching toward her, impatient to find her. Giving her a chance to stop this before it starts. “If you still want me to.”

  Say yes. Fuck, please say yes.

  “Kiss me,” she says instead, and I take that as a yes anyway as I stretch on top of her, pressing between her legs, moaning when her lips part under mine and her tongue meets mine boldly.

  Fuck. Oh God. No girl has even turned me on as much as this one. Every part of my body clenches with need. I brace my hands on either side of her face and lick her mouth, her sweet taste setting my blood on fire. Her hands slide under my T-shirt, over my abs, up to my pecs, and her legs fall open, her hips rise to meet mine.

  Okay, I won’t fucking last, not like this. Can’t help moving, dragging my hard-on along her seam, and despite the barrier of our clothes, sparks of pleasure fly up my spine.

  I break the kiss and arch back, press down on my dick with the heel of my hand to ease the pressure.

  “You okay?” she whispers, eyes wide and dark.

  “Yeah. Too close.” I grin up at her. “Want you too much. See what you do to me?”

  Her gaze dips down to my hard-on, and her eyes widen even more.

  Yeah, baby. All for you.

  As if my thoughts call to her, she slips her hands over my sweats to cup me through the cloth.

  My brain short-circuits and I jerk, heat pooling inside me, spreading like liquid fire. “Wait. Dammit, wait.”

  I grip her hand, move it away, struggle to catch my breath and stop the orgasm building behind my balls, inside my dick, rising like a storm about to hit.

  About to turn me inside out.

  Her hand twitches in mine. Her eyes flare with darkness. “Seth…”

  “I’m gonna undress you now,” I whisper, focusing on her, lifting her captured arm and pressing it down by her head. “Take off your pretty shoes, your pretty dress, your pretty bra and panties. Then I will look at you until I can remember every inch of you when I’m alone at night, every curve and every freckle and mole. And then I will kiss you, lick you and touch you everywhere, until you remember me every time you close your eyes and shiver.”

  She does shiver, then, her nipples peeking through her bra and dress, her hand curling into a fist, tensing in my grip. She sits up a little, leaning back against the cushions.

  Without another word, I release her wrist and reach for the small buttons running down the front of her dress. I pop them one by one, tearing two off with my clumsy, big fingers. Damn tiny buttons. Growling, I shove the material apart and…

  Fuck, she’s perfect. The lacy black bra cups her tits, pushing them up, toward me, teasing me. Tempting me.

  Can hardly believe I’m allowed to fucking touch this time, whatever the price. I run my thumbs over the plump flesh, so satiny soft, and then down, over the scratchy lace, tracing the peaks of her nipples—hard and straining under my touch.

  Bending over her, I mouth them through the lace, loving how they tighten more, how her hands find their way to my head and her fingers tug at my short hair.

  How she moans my name.

  Hell, I’ll show her all right. Show her all I have, all I could fucking be for her. All I could give her, if things were different.

  How I’d make her mine.

  ***

  Her bra is pretty, but it has to go. I slip my arms behind her back, searching for the mysterious, hidden clasp, and then make my fingers bleed by trying to open it.

  Then it comes apart and I suck in a sharp breath at the sight of her, exposed to me like this, her tits round and golden, the nipples dark. I run my hands down her body, parting the dress, and hell, she’s a goddamn wet dream.

  I bend over her, licking and tasting, teasing her nipples until she moans and writhes underneath me. She tastes like she smells—of vanilla cream and almonds. Looks like I have a sweet tooth, I think randomly as I lightly bite her nipple and she squeals. Definitely.

  Fuck, I need to come. Need to come inside her, mark her, fill her. Take her.

  Shuddering, so damn hard my dick could drill through a wall, I kiss a trail between her breasts, down her quivering belly, down, down, until I can rip her panties off and settle between her legs, winking up at her.

  Are you ready, baby?

  My knee aches, my shoulder throbs, and I don’t fucking care. Wouldn’t trade my place for anything in the world.

  She’s watching me from under lowered lashes, lower lip caught between white teeth, a flush spreading over her breasts and neck, rising to her cheeks. Unsure. A little scared. Turned on.

  Sexy as hell.

  I part her folds with my thumb. She’s so wet. I flick my thumb over her swollen clit, and she gasps, her hips lifting. I press them back down.

  And I bury my face between her legs, tasting her, licking along her seam, jabbing my tongue inside her. Her b
reathing turns shallow, frantic. Her legs tense and tremble, closing over my shoulders, and her fingers tangle in my hair painfully. Her body arches, her sweetness floods my senses.

  Jesus. She’s as close as I am, and the realization she’s about to come against my mouth is too much. Shifting, I lick her clit, circle it with my tongue, and slip a finger inside her. She’s tight, so tight, and gets tighter still as she gasps and clenches hard.

  I can feel it, feel her everywhere, feel her pleasure as it cascades down her body and into mine.

  “Seth.” Her breathless cry echoes in my ears.

  Can’t hold back any longer. I reach down, grab my dick through my sweats, tug once, twice—and it’s all I can do not to howl as I jerk, my dick pulsing inside my sweats.

  Oh fuck… I lay my head on her creamy thigh and come and come. It’s as if I haven’t come in years, the way my dick bursts, the way my body shakes, my balls trying to empty themselves to the last fucking drop.

  Just because she’s here. So damn close. Because her taste is still on my tongue, her scent everywhere, her warmth against my arms, my cheek. Seeping into the cold, dark spaces of my soul, filling them with fire and light.

  I know this is a bad idea, a goddamn terrible idea, in fact—and I don’t care. Don’t care how far I fall, not when her pulse ricochets through me, when she reaches for me and whispers my name.

  Who cares about tomorrow? Never thought I’d have one, anyway. The present is the only thing that counts in my book.

  Besides, with my luck and my past, it’s more than I deserve.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Manon

  Whoa, what was that? Pleasure still rolls through me in great waves, my core clenching and unclenching, wanting more.

  More of him.

  Can’t believe how crazy good that was. Can’t believe he did that, that he went down on me, and…

  Oh God, I came with his mouth on my clit, his finger inside me. Through the haze in my brain and the pleasure still shuddering up and down my spine, making my insides contract again and again as my orgasm ebbs away, I’m having a little breakdown.

  Shitshitshit, can’t believe this just happened. He’s still lying there, his head on my thigh, his panting breath scorching my skin—still dressed, where I’m naked on his couch, underneath him, splayed wide, and—

  “Beautiful,” he rasps, and I freeze. “You’re beautiful. The way you came, from my touch, Christ, I…” He puts his hands by my hips and lifts himself up, his gaze intense, burning into me. “That was fucking awesome.”

  “You liked it?” I put my hands over my breasts, covering up the best I can, but he’s having none of it. He gently pries my hands off, and his eyes darken as he stares down at my breasts.

  “Are you fucking kidding me, woman? Asking me if I liked going down on you, licking you, fingerfucking you until you came calling out my name?”

  Oh crap, I did that? Now I want to cover my face, but he’s still holding my hands. He lifts them, one by one, and places kisses on my palms that burn like stars in my mind.

  “I came,” he says, and when I glance up, startled, I find him grinning down at me. “I almost didn’t need to touch myself, I was so close. I fucking loved it, loved tasting you and touching you. I’d do it every day and every night, but…” He winks. “I have more things I wanna try out with you.”

  Other things. Unable to help myself, I think of his cock, the way it looked, swollen and flushed, when I’d touched it the other day, the way he’d showed me how to touch it, and then him coming, shaking, falling apart.

  I want him inside me. The thought both excites and frightens me. I remember well how big his cock was, but I want… want to feel it stretching me, piercing me deep. I want to touch his chest, his powerful shoulders, study his ink, study every scar and every memory imprinted on his skin.

  Kissing him, touching him, making him come, seeing the pleasure flitting over his handsome face… Then wrapping him up in my arms, keeping him safe. God, never wanted anything so much.

  What’s happening to me? Who is this girl living in my skin, wearing my face, a girl I didn’t know until now? Where did she come from?

  Was she inside me all along, only waiting to be let out?

  He moves, breaking through my musings, sitting back, massaging his thigh through his sweats. With a twinge of guilt, I remember his bad knee—a little too late. Can’t feel too guilty, though, not when he’s looking at me sideways, that satisfied grin still on his lips.

  He looks happy, I realize with a start, and it could well be the first time since I met him that the shadow of sorrow darkening his gaze is gone.

  I’m still staring, mesmerized by his boyish smile, the sparkle in his dark eyes, when he decides to undress.

  End of profound thoughts. End of thinking, period. I think I might be drooling.

  Holy crap, this boy. I mean, I saw him naked once before, but I was nervous and stressed and not sure what the hell was happening—why I was looking at him, or touching him. Why I was drawn to him.

  No such doubts now.

  He pulls his T-shirt off, revealing his inked chest, and those mouthwatering muscles ripple as he tugs the cloth over his head and lets it drop to the floor. Small brown nipples on defined pecs, and the snake tattooed on his shoulder moves with the shifting of his biceps, opening its mouth wider.

  A shiver travels through me, but then he’s pushing down his wet sweats and briefs, the musk of his cum rising, so sexy—and who cares about that snake when he’s bared to me completely? His cock is half-hard, jutting out from soft dark curls, and his sack hangs heavy underneath. His thick thighs are almost hairless, and his hipbones jut out below his narrow waist.

  My gaze returns to his cock. It’s hardening as I watch, thickening, lengthening. His breathing is growing ragged, but he doesn’t do anything. Just sits there, letting me look until I have my fill.

  Until I sit up, too, vaguely aware of my own nudity but not as nervous as I thought I’d be—not after his mouth and hands have been all over me, when he said I’m beautiful, when he came from touching me and kissing me—and I reach for him.

  My hands brush over the demon inked on his chest, over his small nipples. They react instantly, hardening under my palms, and his abs contract. Jeez, hello six-pack! He rocks a perfect washboard stomach, and I can’t resist running my fingertips over its bumps and grooves.

  A soft growl escapes him. His cock jumps when I touch it.

  “You’re hard again,” I whisper, stating the obvious, but hey. “I thought guys took longer to recover.”

  “I want you too much,” he mutters, a flush rising to his cheekbones. “I’ve wanted you for too long.”

  God, he’s fascinating. I’m torn between kissing those cheekbones, his long lashes, the tip of his nose, his lips—his chest, his stomach, his cock.

  Then his words sink in, and my heart trips over. “You have?”

  He shakes his head, looks away. “Fuck.”

  “Didn’t know you were—”

  “I wasn’t.” He captures my wrists, stilling my wandering hands. “Forget it.”

  I bite my lip. Didn’t know he’d been interested before. What’s on his mind? Why is he denying what he said?

  “Come here.” He drags me onto his lap and we both shudder when his hard-on throbs between our naked bodies. “God, you feel so good.”

  He does, too. Way too good. Never knew it’d feel so wonderful to be skin-to-skin with a guy. So hot. I love the way the muscles roll in his thighs as he settles me there, my knees on either side of him, the way his biceps bulge when he lifts his hands to my face, his rough fingerpads stroking my cheeks.

  “Don’t overthink this,” he says, his voice low and rich like mulled wine. “Take what you need. Tell me what you like. I’m—”

  I kiss him. He’s too delicious to resist. Kissing him is like swallowing fire, like tasting spiced cake, or spiked hot chocolate. And he wants me… He wants me. Doesn’t matter what he said or me
ant, what he denied, he wants me right now.

  He can’t deny that. I feel it in the way his body reacts to mine, I’m learning the signs. His mouth crushes to mine, and his arms wrap around me, so that his heart beats frantically against my breasts. His hips roll upward, rubbing his cock between us, smearing warm wetness, and he gasps.

  It’s thrilling, kind of magical, knowing this is because of me. I spent so long feeling invisible—as a person, as a woman—that I can hardly believe a guy like Seth would want me.

  The more time I spend with him, the hotter he is. My breath catches just looking at him.

  Too bad he doesn’t really want to be with me, be my boyfriend.

  I break the kiss as the thought surfaces. Whoa. Where did that come from? Just two days ago I was thinking I don’t have a real connection with Seth—no topics and areas of interest in common. A relationship would never work, even if he was interested—which he’s not! So why even entertain the idea?

  Besides, this is probably just reaction to finding Fred with that woman and realizing he was stringing me along all this time. Seth is… my rebound guy.

  A really hot rebound guy, for sure. Take what you need, he said. So I will, even if I want more. Or think I do. This is so confusing.

  Don’t be stupid, Manon. You hardly know the guy. Okay, so I’ll take what he offers. It’s already a lot more than what I’ve ever had with a guy.

  I’ll just pretend I’m with someone who cares about me, who really desires me, body and soul—even if the lie breaks my heart by the end of the day.

  At least I’ll have known what it’s like.

  ***

  “What’s on your mind, girl?” He has pulled back, dark eyes intent, searching my face. They’re a warm chocolate hue with darker flecks, slightly exotic, fringed by those long lashes. “Manon? What is it?”

  So pretty. Such pretty eyes for an inked, muscular bad boy. So gentle for someone so strong.

  “Nothing.” I give him a tiny smile, and he exhales softly when I press my hands to his shoulders.

  “Listen, this doesn’t have to mean anything,” he says and for some reason it stings, as if deep inside, I wanted him to tell me the opposite. That this felt right to him.