Burn (Brothers of Ink and Steel #2)

by Allie Juliette Mousseau

  As soon as they’re gone, I raise my hips to rub myself against the enormous bulge behind the blue fabric of his designer briefs.

  Liam’s eyes change from bright and open to hazy and dark as he groans and grinds back into my needy wetness. “Oh God, I am not going to last.”

  “Good, because I want to feel you explode inside of me.”

  Quickly, like a man on the edge, he slides his torso down over me. His hard abs create a delicious friction.

  He pauses when his mouth reaches my waist and takes a mouthful of my flesh, biting it, creating the blurred edge of pleasure and pain.

  I cry out as he tongues me, leaving a moist path to my burning clit. He breathes over my soft cotton panties, and the heat ravages me, making me scream for more.

  In a second, my panties are gone and replaced by his mouth.

  “Oh God, Liam …”

  He drives his hot tongue deep into me and works it in and out, soaking me, before he comes back up to lick me, lapping and stroking until I’m lost in the pleasure.

  “Fuck!” My eyes roll back, my lids close, while my back arches as I offer him all of me.

  It’s so freeing, being naked like this, my body quivering under his.

  His tongue lashes across my clit as his hand squeezes and presses against my tit.

  “Your fucking taste is heaven, Quinn.”

  “Oh my God!” I grab his head with my hands and crush him to me.

  His beard scruff scrapes my most tender area, and I love it!

  He slides his big, strong hands down to my ass and hums into my insanely aroused flesh before he suddenly flips me over, so I’m sitting on his face and he’s lying on his back.

  My reason is torn apart as he thrusts two fingers inside of me and tickles a third around the opening of my ass.

  “I’m going to come!” I cry, close to delirium.

  “Mmm … yes you are, all over my face,” he says, and then he tells me, “Taste what I taste,” as he brings the fingers that were inside my throbbing center to my mouth.

  Without hesitation, he presses them between my lips and over my tongue.

  “Lick,” he commands me, and I do, as if the fingers were his cock in my mouth.

  My body buckles from the intense, animal pleasure. Liam’s other hand and fingers sink into my hips, forcing them steady and keeping me positioned on his tongue as I rise as high as I can get.

  My legs shake, my entire being seizes with my orgasm.

  He keeps rubbing his entire face and nose over the swelled, hypersensitive area as I come.

  “Fucking mouthwatering,” Liam rumbles.

  And before I have a chance to recover, he lifts my body into the air and puts me over his amazingly beautiful cock.

  I gaze down and watch as it flexes, searching for my opening.

  He holds me, suspended over him. He’s so incredibly strong! His lean muscles ripple as he holds me like I weigh nothing.

  “You are my only fantasy, Quinn.” He gyrates his hips until the tip of his penis penetrates my opening. “You’re so fucking perfect, so much more tantalizing than even my imagination, curvy and round in all the right places.”

  His cock teases me—as he pulls and pushes only the tip in and out of me. “Your tits are fucking magnificent; your taste—good fucking God, I’d die to taste that every day!”

  I want more. I want him in me—now—all the way!

  I wriggle my body in an attempt to slide him deeper inside of me. But he’s not giving me control yet.

  “When your sweet little clit engorged in my mouth, your fucking noises were enough to make me come without you even touching me.”

  I moan from the pure sensuality of his words and the sensations his tip is sending through me.

  “Oh yeah.” Liam sits up, with me still in the air, and licks and sucks the pink rosebud tip of my breast.

  Our faces meet, and he licks my lips. Full of my taste, his tongue plunges between my lips, sliding across my teeth and the roof of my mouth before tangling around my tongue.

  “Oh my God, stop teasing me and do it! I need it!” I whine. “I’ve got to feel you inside my body, Liam.”

  He moves his head back and watches my eyes as he spears his long, thick cock into me.

  I whimper as my eyes plead for no mercy.

  His groan is like thunder as he lifts me up and down over the length of his shaft, penetrating me, body and soul.

  Every nerve in my body sings with pleasure.

  Liam’s gaze drifts between us to where our bodies are bonded together. He moans as he watches himself fuck me—hot and slow.

  The tattoos on his arms are alive with motion as the beast between his legs claims me.

  He makes an animalistic sound as he hoists me up with him and lays me down, my back on the bed. He leans on his elbows and tangles his fingers into my hair.

  “I missed your hair.” He pounds in.

  Slowly he pulls himself back to the tip. “I missed your voice.”

  He pushes back in, and a cry is ripped from my throat. I swear he’s so deep he’s touching my cervix.

  “I missed your scent.” He’s losing his tight control.

  “God, I missed the feel of your body and the touch of your hand.” He cries out. “I want it all back, Quinn. I want you back.”

  I reach up and hold him as close as I can get him.

  His strokes turn frenzied as he pumps inside of me with powerful thrusts.

  I love the feel of his hips, which hold my legs open and apart for him, so he can take me completely; I love the sensation of his rock hard cock as he expands me to fit around him—I’m massaging him, milking him, gripping him; and I love his heart, which is still so open and honest—so one with mine.

  Our breathing flows together in gasps and pants, and I’m caught up in the rapture he creates as he fills my every sense with his presence.

  He moans, ready to release. It’s a guttural sound that I glory in—I brought him there. He hammers harder and faster until he cries out. His cock pulses and pumps inside of me—I absorb every inch, every contour, every last drop as I squeeze my inner muscles and cause him to groan.

  He lays on top of me as we catch our breaths.

  “Impressed?” he asks.

  “I’m in awe.”

  He beams proudly. “Good. In about a half an hour I’ll awe you again.”

  I can’t help but giggle.

  “First, however, I need sustenance. So let’s go eat.”

  At that, he hoists me up off the bed and throws me over his shoulder.

  “I’m naked!” I protest.

  “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

  “Liam! Let me put my clothes on!”

  “Nope. No can do, sugar.”

  “Okay, at least my panties.”

  He just laughs.

  As we get closer to the kitchen, I smell something incredible. My tummy growls, reminding me just how hungry I am.

  He pulls a couple of forks from the kitchen drawer, tosses them onto the table, then grabs a couple of Corona bottles from the fridge.

  When Liam finally sits, he keeps me flush against his body, but lowers me so that I’m sitting on his lap, facing him.

  Immediately, I’m wet for him.

  He reaches out and pulls the takeout bag closer, and while he keeps me pinned to him with his right arm, he takes the cartons from the bags and organizes them on the table.

  “Um … are you trying to tell me this is the only chair that works?” I ask, looking at the other seven chairs circling the large table.

  He grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my face to his mouth. He drives his tongue deep between my lips while his soft, plump lips send electricity through mine. His right arm crushes my body against his chest as it presses down against my shoulder. My hungrier-than-my-stomach vag tightens at the feel of his growing shaft, all for me.

  When he lets us up for air, he says, “No, you’re in the right seat.”

  I bite my lip happily
, feeling a little bit shy.

  “Don’t do that, or we won’t eat,” Liam says with a growl.

  I clamp both of my lips together.

  “Too late.” He stands with me wrapped around his waist and torso and pushes me up against the kitchen wall.

  Liam lavishes my throat as he gets his cock in his hand, works it over my vagina, then buries himself inside of me again.

  The action causes us both to moan, as he sinks deep into my core.

  “Oh fuck!” His hips piston, while the strength of his arms holds me to him.

  He peers up at me. “I want that lip between my teeth,” he demands. He bows my head and bites into my lips, ever so seductively.

  Capturing each of my moans with his mouth, he grinds me against the wall.

  He’s so perfectly deep, it doesn’t take long before we’re both shouting and coming.

  He leans into me and the wall.

  “I hope the neighbors can’t hear us.” I laugh.

  “I don’t care if they can.” Liam kisses me gently then carries me to the kitchen sink and sets me on the counter.

  “Now what?” I wonder out loud.

  He laughs. “Even I need a few minutes to recover.”

  Opening the drawer, he reveals nicely folded kitchen towels. He soaks one in warm water.

  He lathers the cloth with a bar of soap. “Now, spread your legs for me.”

  “Again?” I flirt. “Oh yes,” I say and open them very slowly and seductively.

  “I can see we’ll be shut in here all weekend.”

  Lovingly and full of tenderness, he wipes me clean then rinses me. While he cleans himself, he lays sweet kisses all over my face.

  He drops the cloth in the sink. “I’ll deal with that later.” Picking me back up, he brings us back to the table, sits—with me on his lap—and opens the food cartons.

  “The food is still warm.” I’m surprised.

  “Insulated food bag.”

  Liam opens the first carton, spears a piece of chicken with the fork and holds it to my lips. Who am I to argue? The gorgeous man wants to hand feed me. I can handle that!

  I take a bite. “Oh my God, it’s so good,” I mumble.

  “Best Moroccan chicken in the city.”

  “I tend to remember your affection for Pop-Tarts and Hot Pockets.”

  “Yeah, but a boy has to grow up.”

  “And that you have.” I look over him with admiration.

  *****

  2015

  Liam

  Quinn’s gentle fingers glide over the tattoo on my left shoulder and bicep. A serious expression paints her face. She presses her eyes closed tightly, pained, and then leans in and kisses across my shoulder and down my arm.

  “It’s been so long, I forgot about it,” I say, remembering the first tattoo I ever gave myself. Damned had been scrawled over my bicep in messy script. She hated it.

  “I’m happy you did.” She smiles up at me and wipes away an errant tear. “And it’s perfect that you covered it with an image that represents your name and true character—the knight on his steed. It’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks. Talon inked it from a drawing I made.” I look at the horse rearing up over my arm, its rider covered in plate and chain mail armor. “And what about you?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I want to know.

  She pivots to show me the back of her right shoulder. I draw along the outlines with my fingertips. Two small birds flying free from a gilded cage still adorn her body. It was her first tattoo, the first tat I ever did on someone’s body other than my own, and it meant so much to the two of us.

  I’m stunned it’s still there. “I … honestly …”

  “Thought I’d covered it?” Her tone is incredulous. “Never.”

  Jesus Christ, I’m going to cry.

  *****

  June, 2005

  Liam

  “Come on.” I shake her awake.

  “What time is it?”

  “Two, and we only have a couple of hours before Cade wakes up.”

  We sneak down into the basement.

  “I’ve already got it all set up. And …” I show her the mini liquor bottles I lifted from the convenience store. “Enough to take the edge off, but not enough to give you a hangover.”

  She looks them over. “No Baileys?”

  “No, I figured you’d need something more fast-acting. Now swig.”

  Quinn opens the first little bottle and downs it.

  “Are we still doing what we talked about?” I ask to make sure.

  “Of course. Why would you think I’d change it?”

  “I don’t know. What if you fall out of love with me?”

  “Don’t be stupid, Liam.”

  “It’s going to hurt—like fuck,” I warn.

  “Stop coddling me and get on with it!”

  I switch my homemade tat gun on. It’s noisier than I’d like, which is why we had to hide down here.

  I kiss the virgin porcelain of her shoulder. “You’re sure?”

  “Do it!”

  “Okay.” I set the needle to her skin.

  “OH MY GOD!” she cries.

  “SHH!!” I say. “I told you it was going to hurt.”

  “Yeah, but … oh my God!” She cringes.

  “Sit still, we just started.”

  “What happened to, ‘You don’t have to do it, Quinn, if you change your mind’?”

  “Have you changed your mind?”

  “No! But it stings like a son-of-a-bitch!”

  “You got this,” I say sincerely. “Take another drink.”

  “Remember to make them into an outline, so that when you get colored ink you can make them blue.”

  She loves mountain bluebirds.

  “I remember.”

  After a few minutes, she gets used to the feeling and calms down.

  “Why is life always such a fight? Will we always be fighting?”

  I hear the sorrow in her tone, and I’d do anything to wash it away, but I don’t have a good answer. “I don’t know, Quinn.”

  She sighs. “You shouldn’t have to fight. People should just leave us alone.”

  “Maybe someday,” I say, but I don’t even sound convincing to myself. “Oh. And don’t even think for a second that I don’t know how you sprained your wrist, Quinn Kelley.”

  “What’s … that … supposed to mean?” She stumbles over her words.

  “Josh North is an asshole, and if he ever touches you again—drunk or not—he’ll be a dead asshole.”

  “What?”

  “I know you slugged him over something. He’s been looking like a whipped puppy since you hurt yourself. It doesn’t take a fucking rocket scientist.”

  She laughs softly. “Guess I’m thinking more like you, more like a fighter.”

  “That’s a good thing. What Cade is teaching us—how to be strong and to defend ourselves—it’s all good fucking stuff.”

  She’s quiet a minute before she asks, “Are you happy here?”

  I think about that. “I guess. You’re safe. We’re together.”

  “That’s not exactly what I mean. Do you like Cade and Debra?”

  “Yeah, I think I do. So far they’ve been the most honest people I’ve ever met.”

  “Me too.”

  “That is, unless they fuck it up and go two-faced.” I know that can happen from experience.

  “It scared me when Ryder and Connor ganged up on you.”

  “I could’ve taken them both,” I assure her.

  Connor has a medium build and doesn’t fight with venom—he’s like Reese and Chase, really just letting off steam and killing time.

  But Ryder is a different animal. He wants to draw first blood. He’s got a lot of anger. He’s usually punching walls—I’ve lost count of how many times he’s been on detention because he put a hole in the plaster somewhere in the house after a group session.

  “And a few days ago, when Ryder beat Josh to a pulp—it was like he jus
t laid there and let him hit him. He didn’t even try to fight back.”

  “Yeah, that wasn’t like Josh. He usually likes a good rumble.”

  “Are we safe here?” she asks.

  “Josh is a good match for Ryder—Josh is the one who laid down and played dead, though I don’t know why.”

  “I don’t think Chase or Talon really want to fight.”

  “No, they fight because they have to, or they think they have to prove themselves to everybody else.”

  “Yeah, especially when new kids come in,” she says. “I hate that. You all turn into idiots.”

  “Remember who’s holding the needle, Quinn,” I say. “It’s a guy thing.”

  “It’s a street thing—you all have to prove to each other who’s the toughest.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Who the fuck cares, it’s just the way it is.”

  “I do. I care. I just … want to stop trying so hard.” She shrugs her shoulders.

  “Hold still,” I scold.

  “I’m sick and tired of the fighting—seeing you black and blue or having to clean up your bloody nose … I’m tired of fighting for food, fighting for a warm, safe place to sleep, fighting for survival …”

  “As soon as we turn eighteen, I’ll have earned enough money working for Cade to get us to Florida safely on a bus, not fucking hitchhiking. I know it feels like it’s still far away, but it’s better than running again—living on the streets. And I think Cade’ll give me references so I can get a job. Maybe I’ll even find a position to train as a real tattoo artist.” I think about it. “We’ll be free, Quinn.”

  She sighs deeply.

  I pull out two mirrors—which I unhinged from the upstairs and downstairs bathroom medicine cabinets. Putting one in her hand, I hold the other behind her shoulder.

  The tat depicts two small bluebirds flying off together, having escaped from their cage. I love the symbolism.

  “You and me,” she says. “I love it! I also like the drawing of the tree branch.”

  “Yeah, I thought the cage looked more elegant hanging from the tree. I know it’s just an outline; I’ll fill it in, along with the leaves and the rest of the tat, when I get some color.”

  “Liam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”