by Olivia Chase
Her eyes are so full of hope and fear that it crushes me, as much as it feeds into my anger.
“I…I need time to think,” I say. I can’t deal with this right now, with the heaviness smothering me, threatening to break me.
Mom, alive. Here, in the flesh. She’s alive after abandoning us, lying to us, and Dad is dead, and he lied to us too for so many years.
Mom rises from her seat. She grabs a napkin and pen from the bar and scrawls something on it, then hands it to Smith. Her hands are trembling. “Here’s my number. I promise I won’t bug you guys. Take your time, think it over. If you have questions, I’ll be around.” She eyes all three of us, one after another, like she’s memorizing our faces.
Smith stands up and looks down at her. Emotions are running wild over his face, then he hugs her quickly, hard, and pulls back. “We just…we all need a little time to adjust. But we’ll call.”
Her eyes fill with the excitement of hope. She gives a small nod. “Okay, I’ll—I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” On small feet, she shuffles out the door.
My brothers and I are quiet for a solid minute, staring at the door. If it weren’t for the full beer mug in front of the chair where she sat, I almost wouldn’t believe that happened.
“What the fuck,” Jax says on a heavy exhale, raking his hand over his face and jaw. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
Smith drops back into his seat. We sit around the table, staring at its surface. After another long stretch of time, he pushes back from the table. “We gotta finish getting the bar ready for work.”
Jax nods, and we all three get up and set about finishing our tasks. My movements are stiff, and I try to focus on what I’m doing instead of the bomb that was just dropped on us. But the sound of her voice, the memory of her face, they’re burned into me.
I’m torn. Confused. Angry. Hurt.
I don’t know how to deal with this shit.
We open the bar as usual. Jax and Smith seem okay. Why does it seem like I’m the only one whose world has been shredded to pieces? Jax is flirting and smiling with customers as he serves beer. Even Smith is a little friendlier than usual, not his typical curt self.
But I can’t seem to muster a smile. Every minute that passes makes the knot in my chest grow bigger.
“Asher,” Jax says, stepping up beside me. “Go home. You’re scaring off the customers, and that’s saying a lot.”
Part of me wants to fight him on it—staying at work will give me something to do other than think. But I can’t stop thinking anyway. I’m just bringing everyone else around me down. “Fine.”
“Hey.” He grips my shoulder and makes me face him. “I know this is fucking crazy, but it’ll be okay. Try not to let this eat away at you. I can tell you’re furious.”
“And you’re not? She was in fucking prison, Jax. She and Dad lied to us for years. Of course I’m furious.” My chest rises and falls.
“I’m a lot of things. Angry, sad. But I’m also willing to give it a shot. She seems sincere.”
“I’m not ready for that,” I tell him, moving away. His hand drops, and he gives me a knowing look. Jax can tell exactly what I’m thinking and feeling.
“Go home,” he repeats. “Get some sleep. It’ll help.”
I dig my keys out of my pocket and push through the crowd. Get in my car. Stop at the convenience store and get a twelve-pack of the strongest beer I can find.
Then I go home.
By the time I finish my second beer, my anger has swollen to the size of a giant pulsing infection in my chest.
I thought that having a few might help the tension, but it’s only making it worse. I dump the third beer down the sink—it tastes sour and disgusting to me. But that’s what I get for buying the cheap stuff.
I keep hearing my mother’s voice in my head explaining where she was. The plea in her eyes.
She wants me to just welcome her back with open arms after all this time? Fuck that.
A knock on the door pulls me out of my angry musings. I whip it open and see Whitney standing there, knowing concern in her eyes.
Fuck. “Who told you?” I say, stepping back so she can come in.
“Brooklyn. Jax told her, and she told me, thinking I could come over and talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Whitney peers around me and sees the beer on the table. “Obviously not. You’re just going to drink until you pass out?”
“I’m not your dad,” I growl. I walk away and sit on the couch.
“I didn’t say you were,” she replies, taking a seat beside me. Her hand rests on my thigh. “God, your whole body is tight.”
“This is so fucked up,” I manage to say through a clenched jaw. Her small hand rests on my lower back, and she gives me comforting strokes.
“I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine how it feels.” The gentleness in her voice takes some of the edge off my anger. Whitney didn’t have to come over. I didn’t call her. But she’s here, and she’s trying to help me feel better.
“My family is a fucking mess,” I tell her baldly. “You should run while you have the chance.”
“I can’t run,” she says. Her hand reaches up and she caresses my jaw, down my throat. The touch awakens my dormant hunger, and my cock jumps to life, pulsing against my jeans zipper.
And then she says, in a soft voice, “I want you too much.”
I grip the back of her hair and expose the column of her throat. Dig my teeth into her collarbone, then run my tongue along the flesh when she shudders and moans. “You’re under my skin, Whitney.”
“Let me help you feel better.”
“I’m fucking angry. You should probably go.”
She whispers, “I know you won’t hurt me.”
“Oh, but I want to.” I reach down and take her wrists, stare at her widening eyes. Tighten my grip on the slender bones. “I want you beneath me, and I want to take your body hot and hard. Make you mine. Leave bruises and marks all over you so everyone can see how well I fucked you.”
Her lips part, and she draws her lower one between her teeth. Her eyes are flaring with arousal, breasts heaving, nipples hardening.
“You want that, don’t you,” I say. Lust fills my veins. I tug her up from the seat, and she comes, compliant, willing, her body trembling with her own desire. “For me to mark you as mine.”
“Yes.” The word is little more than an exhale. Her body is arching toward me, her eyelids fluttering closed.
I grip her jaw and tilt her mouth toward mine. Kiss her, bite her lip. Hard.
She gives a small jolt and says, “Oh!”
I pull back. Drop my hands from her and turn away. “Go home, Whitney. I’m not in the mood to be easy and gentle. I don’t wanna do something you’ll regret.”
“You ass,” she says, swatting at my back. It’s like a fly hitting a window, but it serves to irritate me. I slowly rotate to face her, letting her feel the full strength of my emotions. Her lips thin, and she straightens her spine, not dropping her gaze. “Stop trying to push me away. Maybe I want to try it rough. Ever think of that? This isn’t just about you. It’s about me, too.”
I narrow my eyes and step toward her. The pulse at the base of her throat flutters, and her pupils widen, but she stands her ground.
I tell her the truth. “You’re in over your head, kitten.”
“You don’t know me as well as you think you do.” The bravado in her voice is admirable, and I almost want to praise her for standing up to me.
Almost.
I grip the straps of her tank top and bra and rip them down until her breasts are bared and the straps hang on her arms. She doesn’t move, but her breathing gets rapid, and her nipples harden instantly.
“I want to fuck you,” I growl. “I don’t want to make love. I want to pound you mercilessly until you can’t walk or talk.”
She sucks her lower lip between her teeth and her eyes flutter closed. Whitney stands there, her breasts bar
ed to me, submissively asking me to take her.
And so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Whitney
I’ve never seen Asher like this. Never vibrating with so much emotion. It reminds me of when we used two-liter bottles to make a tornado in the water.
He’s swirling with his anger.
My entire body is lit from the inside out—the moment he bit my lower lip that way, I gasped in pleasure. Shock. Need.
My pussy instantly got wet. Surprised how much I liked the way it felt.
God, did I.
I want more.
Asher’s eyes are glowing coals, the pupils huge, and there’s a wicked grin on his face. He looks sinister, and so help me God, I want him so badly I could scream. My entire body is shaking for him.
I stay in place as he stalks around me, a panther studying his prey. My nipples are so hard they’re throbbing, and my panties are soaked already.
His big hands reach behind me at the top of my tank top, and he tugs hard. The thin fabric stretches until it reaches the point of no return, and then there’s a huge rip as he tears it off me.
Asher clamps his teeth on my bare shoulder, his other hand cupping the side of my face, his body firmly pressed behind me. “I want to tear you apart, Whitney.”
“Yes,” I say, savoring the heat pouring off him. I would give him anything he wanted right now.
He digs his teeth into my shoulder, and pain flares and shoots through me. I groan, and the sound turns higher, louder when the pain increases. He pulls off, moves his teeth to my neck and bites me there.
I shake with desire, my pulse throbbing everywhere, my pussy tight and wet and swollen. I want his hands on me.
Asher licks and sucks and bites my flesh on my upper arm, moving to my front and feasting on my breasts. The tension in me swirls tighter. Everywhere his teeth go, pain flares and then fades to a strong warmth.
I’ve never felt this way before.
I stay in place, not moving, letting him take me the way he wants.
“Kitten,” he says, straightening. His eyes bore into mine. “I’m going to take you in my room now.” He grabs me and flings me over my shoulder, making me gasp. I fumble to grip his waist as I bounce on him—he carries me like I weigh nothing. Opens the door into blackness, then flicks on a small light.
Tosses me onto the bed. My bra is still around my torso.
“You’d better take that stuff off or I’ll rip it all to shreds,” he warns me. “You have five seconds.”
I scramble to undress. I’m filled with anticipation, drenched for Asher, aching for him. My entire body feels like a raw nerve. This Asher is dark, sexy, compelling.
I get my shorts off, and I’m fumbling with my bra when he says, “Time’s up.” Then his hands are on me and he’s ripping these panties off too, the fabric’s renting filling the air between us. “I’m building quite the collection,” he murmurs, lifting the crotch of the panties to his nose, breathing in.
I could come just watching him do that. The way he looks like he enjoys my smell…it’s heady. “Oh God,” I whisper.
Asher drops the underwear and I finish with my bra and fling it aside. Then he’s on me, lifting my hands above my head. He wraps something around my wrists and ties them together. “Don’t move.” He rises from the bed and digs into his closet, grabbing several ties.
Asher pushes my knees up so my calves are resting against the backs of my thighs, then winds the ties around my legs, binding them, my heels pressed into the bed. My pussy is exposed to him. He loops another tie around my mouth, between my teeth, and ties it behind my head.
“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re open for me,” he says, running his fingers up and down my soaking slit.
I groan, the sound muffled.
“Now you can scream all you want, kitten, and no one will hear you.” He gets that devilish look in his eyes as he eyes my pussy. “I’m going to make you come for me again and again until your cunt is sore. And then I’m going to fuck you.”
My legs and arms have a delicious ache from being bound. I feel dirty and hot all over.
Asher moves until he’s resting between my legs, my hard nipples rubbing his chest. He brushes his lips over my opened mouth, then draws my lower lip between his teeth. Bites.
I moan and arch under him.
“Fuck yes, you want this so bad,” he says. His hand digs into my hip, then moves to stroke my pussy. Pleasure swirls from my clit outward. “Such a wicked girl, tied up and unable to escape me.” The words are delivered in a low tone of warning. Asher thrusts a finger inside me, and I gasp. Another finger joins it, stroking, curled up to hit my G-spot.
Being tied up this way, giving myself to him…it’s making me feel drunk without ever having a sip of alcohol. My body feels heavy and throbbing. The places he bit me are still warm and aching. The tie in my mouth reminds me that I’m subjected to whatever he wants of me right now.
Asher pauses, and then while two fingers are in my pussy, another strokes my back entrance. I freeze on instinct and stiffen. “You have to stay relaxed. Trust me. Let me in.”
It’s hard, because I’m scared. I’ve never been touched there before. But I will my body to unclench.
He bends down to my nipple and sucks the rigid tip into his mouth. Suckles. The nerves shoot straight to my clit, and I throb and moan. Then he slides a finger into my ass, continuing to lick and pleasure my nipple, his other fingers fucking my pussy.
I feel pleasure and pain mingling in so many places that my brain can’t keep up. I sink into the pain, accept it, and my orgasm starts to build.
“God, yes,” he murmurs against my breast. “Give me that fucking come.” He moves to pleasure my other nipple, biting the very tip between his teeth. Intense pain daggers through my breast, then I’m flooded with heat. I’m shaking all over while he fucks me, bites me, his other hand gripping me hard, fingers digging into my sides. I’m going to be bruised and sore tomorrow. Just like he promised.
The orgasm slams into me and I scream and scream, the sound gagged by the tie in my mouth. I can’t breathe—all I can do is let it overtake me. My pussy and ass are spasming around his thrusting fingers.
“Fuck, yes, holy shit,” Asher says, reaching up to take my mouth in a kiss. “God, that’s insanely hot.”
The orgasm starts to fade, but he doesn’t stop. I’m sensitive, swollen, and he increases his speed, then moves his fingers until two of them are thrusting into my ass. I can barely breathe when his mouth drops down to draw my clit between his lips.
He sucks at my wetness, and I feel another orgasm coming, this one different than the last. It’s dirty and heavy and coming from my ass, and I start bucking against his hand.
“Wicked slutty kitten wants to come for me,” he purrs against my pussy.
The orgasm comes to me in a pulsing wave that throbs in my whole body. I moan loudly, limbs tight, struggling against the bonds on instinct. I want to touch him, wrap my legs around him, bury my fingers in his hair.
Asher fucks my ass with his fingers until the orgasm finally fades. I sag against the bed, gasp for breath. My body is heavy and tired, and my pussy aches. I can’t believe I’ve come twice, I’m fully naked, bound in his bed, and he is still dressed.
He gets up, leaves the bedroom, and from the adjacent bathroom I hear the faucet running. Then he comes back in and strips his clothes off, finally. His cock bounces when it’s freed, and it’s hard and delicious.
I want to lick it so badly. I want this gag out of my mouth so I can taste him.
He catches me staring at his dick. “You hungry for me, Whitney?” His hand palms it and he begins to stroke. I can see precome on the tip. I ache to feel it on my mouth, to know what it’s like to have a cock filling my throat. “I want to fuck your mouth so badly,” he says, like he’s read my mind. “But I need to bury myself deep in that sopping-wet pussy.”
Asher bends down and grabs a condom, rolls it on. Crawls back on
the bed and settles between my legs.
He reaches up and unties the gag in my mouth. “You have to be quiet, or I’m going to put this back in. Do you understand?”
I flex my jaw and then say, “Yes.”
“Such a good girl.” A sudden flicker of emotion fills his eyes as he strokes my hair and stares down at me. Something knits between us in this moment, more than just fucking. Something deeper, more intimate. My heart throbs in response and when he takes my mouth with his, I feel my pussy gushing again.
Then Asher pushes that beautiful cock inside me, and my moan is lost in his mouth. He rests on one forearm, the other hand stroking my breast, and pumps his cock in me. His fingers squeeze my tender flesh, and it hurts but I love it. Want more. I want him to bite me again, to know that when I look at myself in the mirror tomorrow, or for the next week, signs of him are all over me.
“Harder,” I beg him. I sound wanton, and I don’t care. I just need him to take me.
My words spur him on. Asher’s hands grow more forceful as he powers into me, his cock ramming against the sensitive lining of my pussy. I drop my knees to let him in deeper, and he groans his approval.
Soon, sweat is slicking both of our bodies. We’re gasping in rhythm to his pumping. I press my bound legs against his sides in an effort to draw him closer.
Soon his movements become erratic. He’s panting against me. He reaches up and fumbles at the fabric around my wrists, freeing them.
I groan in pleasure at the sudden liberation and wrap my arms around him, dig my fingers into his shoulders.
“Harder,” he grunts. His eyes remain fixed on mine.
I press my nails into his back, watching his reactions, then scrape along his shoulder blades. He shudders and stiffens, and then with a jerk, he cries out, “Fuck, Whitney, yes!”
I can feel his cock pulsing in me, and I grip him as close as I can, keep my nails buried in his skin. He comes for what feels like forever. “Yes, yes,” I coax him. “I want it all. Give it to me, Asher. Please, please.”
