Spitfire Suckerpunch (House of Pain Book 2)
Page 12
“No,” he finally forced out, his voice strained by the delicious pain she was inflicting on him. “You're not afraid of anything, are you?” he asked and her gaze dropped to his lips. She gave him another squeeze, just for good measure. He couldn't help it—he moaned. It was too much for him to take silently. He jerked his hips, his dick calling out for attention. He didn't know why it was happening, but that didn't make it any less the truth. He was fucking horny as hell. She dragged her teeth across her bottom lip, and he knew that she knew it just as well as he did.
“Should I be afraid?” she said, her voice low and husky. Another shiver of lust wracked his body. The wonderful suffering was instant, his balls throbbing under her touch. Her arm went slack against grip, no longer fighting his grip on her wrist. “Are you going to arrest me?” She swayed her body, slightly, but it was enough for the swell of her tits to graze his chest again. He gritted his teeth against the onslaught of memories that her words brought to his brain. He remembered her as a girl, alone with him in an empty room. He remembered how her dark eyes had looked up at him then, innocent but defiant. Like a child, she hadn't wanted to get into trouble, but she also hadn't been sorry for her crime either.
As he studied her now, eight years later, he knew that whatever innocence she'd had then was long gone. He'd known it the second he saw her at House of Pain. He knew now she was full of anger and she blamed him for all the shit that she'd been through. But she was still just as defiant as ever and apparently, had developed a sadistic streak. She'd enjoyed fucking him over. She enjoyed what she was doing to him now. She enjoyed having power over him.
The thought only made his dick swell even more.
“Let me go,” she said when he didn't reply, jerking her arm against his grip.
“What if I don't?” he gritted out through clenched teeth. She pressed the tip of her tongue into the corner of her mouth and he had a sudden vision of that tongue running across the tip of his dick. He suppressed another moan, in a vain attempt to keep some dignity. Fuck, he was fucked up. He'd been in the ring with 300 pound men and not wavered. But here he was, and Shay Spears, at a mere 5' 6'' and 130 pounds on a good day, was going to fuck him up.
“You'll regret it,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. He wondered if she could read his mind. He wondered if she could see all the dirty things he was suddenly envisioning her doing to him. She damn sure could feel how hard his cock was. She knew exactly what she was inflicting on him. So, just like that, like an idiot, he dropped her wrist. He let any leverage other than his size go, more interested to see what she was going to do now that he was letting her have all the power. She yanked her hand back, her hand clenched in a fist and he wondered if she was going to hit him. But then something flashed behind her eyes and he didn't have any time to try to decipher what she was thinking before she launched herself against him. She threw her arm around his neck and pushed herself up on her tiptoes and kissed the shit out of him.
He didn't know how else to describe it, honestly.
She slanted her mouth over his and smashed her soft lips against his. Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. For half a second, he could only stand there as she assaulted his mouth with hers. But then, by some miracle, he woke the fuck up and kissed her right back. She shoved her tongue in between his lips and he met it with his own, the muscles in his stomach tightening as she loosened her grip on his balls. Then she began stroking the ridge of his erection through his jeans, her hand going up and down his bulge like she had all the time in the world. Her arm tightened around his neck and her nails grazed the sensitive skin of his neck and he jerked against her. The sensation was almost too much. If she kept touching him, he was going to come too quick and there was no way in hell that was going to happen.
He shoved her hand away from his dick and then grabbed her hips. He yanked her body against his, instantly loving the way all of her soft curves felt smashed against him. He dragged his hands around to cup her ass through the soft, stretchy fabric of her yoga pants. He flexed his hands against her ass, suddenly getting the urge to rip them off of her. She rolled her hips, her hand finding the waistband of his jeans. She yanked it down a few inches, the friction of the fabric against his dick sharp like an electric shock. He wanted to fuck, that was undeniable. The surprising thing was that Shay Spears, the girl that had haunted him for so long, apparently wanted to fuck him too.
“Do you want this?” he asked, even as her fingers gripped his waistband like she wanted to rip his pants off. He wanted to hear it from her mouth. He wanted to hear that she wanted it. He wanted to hear how she wanted it. He wanted her to tell him exactly how to please her. But, of course, she wasn't going to make it that simple. She stared at him for a moment, her swollen lips parted slightly. They were tinted pink, and he could taste her lipstick on his mouth. He liked the way it tasted. She unravelled her arm from around his neck and for a split-second, he thought she was going to reject him. For a split-second he thought he was going to die from unrequited arousal.
But it only lasted a second.
Silently, she dropped her hand to cup him again, not so softly. She dropped her eyes as well, staring at his bulge as she ran her thumb over it, her long, bright pink nail in direct contrast to the black of his jeans. Then she took a step back, pulling him with her. He gasped at the little electric shocks that ran down his legs as he stumbled forward, following her without thinking. He didn't care where she was taking him. At that point, wherever she wanted to go, he was game. She backed up, her purple Converses squeaking across the faded linoleum as she dragged him to the dark room at the back of the salon.
She threw her hand out and fumbled against the wall, flicking a light switch. The fluorescent light hummed and flickered on above their heads. They were in a small office, anchored by a desk pushed against the wall. He glanced around, noticing there were no windows or other doors out. There was no escape, for either of them. The cop in him—shit, the fighter in him, as well—didn't like being boxed in. But it was small and intimate and he could smell the fresh scent of her soap and the floral hints of her perfume mingling together in the air. She was staring up at him, her dark eyes clouded with a mixture of lust and anger. He put his hand to his mouth and gripped the leather with his teeth, pulling off his glove at the index finger. He let it drop to the floor and she followed it with her eyes. Then he removed the other one as well as she dragged her hand up his erection to the button of his fly.
“Okay,” she said vaguely, nodding like she was talking to herself.
“Okay what?” he asked, sliding his newly bare hands up her hips and into the curve of her waist, envisioning what she would look like without her shirt on. She had luscious hips and tits, but her stomach was flat and warm and soft under his hands. He imagined pressing his mouth to it and sucking her brown skin until she moaned.
“Do you want to be with me?” she asked, her hand poised on his fly. He almost laughed at how she said it, so directly. But she was serious. And so was he.
“You're the one who started this,” he said, bringing his hands up to her ribs, just under the swell of her breasts. His dick was so hard, it was almost painful. Anybody with eyes could see how much he wanted to fuck her. “I want to know what you want,” he continued, lifting his thumbs to graze the bottom of her tits. She shot him a sharp look, like she was about to tell him to fuck off, but then she popped the button on his jeans. She leaned into him, pressing her mouth to his neck. He closed his eyes as she spiked her tongue into his sensitive skin. God, he didn't know what the hell she was doing to him, but he wanted more. He needed more. “Say it,” he said, even as her hand was pulling down his zipper and sliding into his jeans. He gritted his teeth as she closed her fist around his cock and squeezed. “Say it and I'll do whatever you want,” he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them.
“I want you,” she whispered, her lips against his neck. “Right here. Right now.”
Chapter Nine
And it was big.
She ran her hand up his thick erection, the skin hot beneath her touch. His jeans hindered her movement, but she couldn't stop herself from trying to touch the full length of him. He shuddered against her, her words still hanging in the air between them. She'd said she'd wanted to fuck him. She'd basically thrown herself at him and he hadn't said a thing in return. But he didn't need to. When she ran her teeth across his jawline and squeezed his dick at the same time, he sprung into action.
In a fluid movement, he swung her around, pressing her back into the wall before she had a chance to realize what was happening. Then he shrugged out of his leather jacket, letting it fall to the ground with a light thump. Taking his lead, she dropped her hands to the folded waistband of her yoga pants, pushing it down over her hips. She let out a shaky breath as he followed her lead, shoving his jeans and boxers down and letting his erection free, finally. She had to bite her lip to keep her mouth from dropping open. She hadn't seen a dick in the flesh in a long time, but his was perfection, pure and simple. It was long and thick and veiny, and slightly bowed to the left. She wanted to lick it, but she didn't have time. He pushed her into the wall, pressing his big body into her as he shoved her pants further down. She did a quick little shimmy and they slid down her legs until they pooled at her ankles.
He dropped his face and let his lips hover above hers, like he wanted to kiss her. She didn't wait for him to do it, though. She was getting very impatient. Instead, she kissed him, forcing her tongue into his mouth. He moaned into her like he liked it when she took the lead, which was strange. Before, the boys always took charge. When she'd first lost her virginity, she'd been younger then and more unsure. She'd let the boy climb on top of her and decide when to kiss and where to touch. Those innocent times seemed like a lifetime ago. She wasn't that girl anymore. With Tate, she didn't want to wait. She wanted to touch and feel and grab on tight. She wanted to suck him in and get lost in him. She was more than impatient; she was ravenous.
She kicked off the fabric that clung to her shoes and he roughly grabbed her right knee and lifted it high, spreading her legs open for him. She still had on her panties, but a tiny slip of fabric wasn't going to stop him. He rolled his hips against hers, his hard dick thrusting against her. The thin cotton was all that separated them and she whined into his lips, wanting him inside of her. She wanted him so much it almost hurt. Her stomach was tight and her entire body was clenched in anticipation. She slid her hands under his shirt, her fingertips running over the hard ripples of muscle under his skin as she thought of him that day in the locker room. Half-naked, his pants riding low on his hips, he'd been so fucking hot. And now he was here, in between her legs, and she had the discerning urge to run her mouth all over him and taste him all over.
She bet he tasted delicious.
He made a sound low in his throat as she dragged her nails over his flat nipples and he bucked his hips, like he wanted to be inside of her just as much as she wanted it. He was so big and hard and straining. It was almost overwhelming, but the warmth of his skin grounded her. His breathing was labored and she could hear—no, feel—his heartbeat between them. She wanted to strip him down and discover every inch of his body, every smooth length of skin. She could feel the damaged skin of his scar under her fingertips, but she couldn't see it. It was frustrating. She shoved her hands further under his shirt, wanting to rip it off of him. Her lips found his earlobe and she couldn't resist biting down on the soft skin. Her jerked against her and inhaled sharply, like he liked everything that she was doing. Feeling bolder and bolder by the second, she dropped a hand between them and began stroking her hand up and down his cock, lightly.
“Fuck. Don't,” he said, his voice low and husky and pleading. A pang of arousal went through her at his tone. She knew exactly how he was feeling, but she didn't care. She couldn't stop her hand from jerking him off. She ran her thumb through the glossy pre-come on the thick head of his dick, not able to help herself. She knew she was torturing him, but her she couldn't stop. The more she touched him, the stronger she felt, like she could do anything in the world that she wanted. Fortunately, at that moment, the only thing she wanted to do was him.
“Don't come,” she murmured in his ear, varying her strokes, going fast and then slowing down, his pre-come oozing between her fingers. She ran her teeth across his earlobe again, sliding her free hand around to his lower back. She dug her nails lightly into the tight skin above his ass at the same moment she squeezed his thick erection in her fist. He moaned hoarsely and dropped his forehead onto her shoulder. “Don't you dare,” she demanded, not knowing where the words were coming from. She'd never said such things to a man before. But in the years that she'd been locked up, she'd imagined saying them. As she lay in her cold bed at night, she'd imagined, all right.
“I won't,” he said, the words strained like it took all of his power to say them, and a thrill ran up her spine. He sounded unhinged, like he was losing control.
“Not yet,” she said, forming a ring with her thumb and index finger and tightening it around the thick base of his dick. She knew that would stop him for sure, but he growled like he was in pain. Then he was kissing her and pressing her hard against the wall and roughly shoving her panties aside. She gasped as he bent his knees and then thrust upward, bumping his hips into hers. She was so wet that he slid in a few inches without resistance. It was unceremonious, but it felt life-changing. It felt like all of a sudden the heavens had opened up above them, it was that good. Her mouth fell open silently as he shuddered against her, holding himself tight like he was trying not to lose it. She knew she should tell him to stop. She knew she shouldn't fuck him without a condom. But she didn't stop him. Hell no, she didn't.
“Oh God,” she whispered, their breath mingling together. He pressed his forehead against hers and her eyes found his. His eyes were green, she realized. Deep, hazy green with flecks of brown. He had long eyelashes too, she noticed. He was so damn attractive. Life wasn't fair. The one man she shouldn't be interested in and he was all she could see. He was all she could feel. She dug her nails harder into his back and slapped her other arm around his neck, steeling herself against what he was about to do. She didn't know if she was ready, but she also knew she couldn't wait any longer.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, his eyes searching hers like he would actually pull away if she told him to. Like she would really be that cruel.
“No,” she murmured, her heart pounding so loud she wondered if he could hear it. She hoped so. “Don't stop,” she said and rolled her hips as much as she could, being impaled on top of his dick. She wanted him to move so goddamn badly. If he pulled away right then, she didn't know what would happen. She just might spontaneously combust.
Luckily, she didn't have to find out. Before she could catch her breath, he grabbed her hips and pulled her down hard on his dick. It was so fast and so deep that she threw her head back and gasped. He so was big that her body protested him at first. It had been a long time since she'd had sex. For a minute, she felt like he was too much for her but at that point, she barely cared. He was inside her and it was strange and scary and wonderful all at the same time. But he didn't give her any time to recover or think about it too much. He didn't go slow and he wasn't gentle. His self-restraint was gone. He reared back and then bucked into her hard again and again, filling her in a way she hadn't felt in a long time, if ever.
He grabbed her ass and hauled her up against
the wall when she started to slip. She buried her face in his shoulder and moaned as she wrapped her left leg around his hip. She balanced her right foot against Gina's desk for leverage as he fucked her, feeling like she was about to lose her mind for real. She tilted her head back, wanting his mouth on hers, and he responded like he could read her mind. His tongue danced across hers as he pumped in and out of her. She groaned into him, her pussy clenching around his big dick and her nipples going so hard they hurt.
It was almost scary how much she liked it.
He thrust his full length into her and she clenched her jaw to keep from calling out. He was so big and he felt so good. She felt like she was losing every last bit of her sense. Her hands moved of their own accord, moving from his back to his face to his chest. She couldn't get enough. He bucked into her over and over and she tightened her leg around his waist as his thrusts and his breathing grew more ragged. She knew he was coming undone and she was right there with him. She didn't know how much more she could take. He was so overwhelming and it was so raw. She'd never been fucked like that. Not that she'd had a lot of experience, but she had a feeling Tate would forever be in a class all his own.
“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice hoarse, disrupting her jumbled thoughts. “Tell me how to make you come.” She closed her eyes at his words, her brain going foggy. She doubted if she could even form words at that moment. He swerved his hips, penetrating her deep, and the sensation snapped her out of her haze. She finally couldn't stop herself. She called out, her broken voice ringing off the brick walls off the office. “Fucking tell me,” he said, his voice lighter, almost pleading.