by Jo Raven
In fact, I managed, against all odds, to only service women. Jason helped me with that, and I owe him big time, taking on the guys who’d hit on me and putting out the word about me to lady friends.
“Go on,” I say when it becomes clear he’d rather not. “What happened?”
He lets out a frustrated sigh, checks the street again. “He won’t say, but we found him beaten up pretty badly. Not far from here, in fact.”
A chill runs up my spine despite the warm day. “You think it’s the same guy? Simon?”
Pimp and leader of a MC gang, he arrived to take this city under his “protection.” Simon Gomez.
“Could well be. Kid mumbled something about turf wars and ran. Never heard where he ended up.”
I swallow sourness. “Has Simon ever threatened you?”
Just his name makes me feel sick.
“Kaia keeps tabs on him.” The local pimp. “But she’s getting sicker by the day. If she passes on, I don’t know what will happen.”
“Yeah.” I jam my hands into my pockets. “Me neither.”
“You could press charges, J.”
He’s told me this before. Jason is the one who found me and patched me up. He found a doctor to sew my arm up for free—or if he paid in kind, he never told me.
“I can’t. He’ll find out I ratted him out. Too risky. Besides, it’s been years and it’s not like I had any witnesses.”
“If nobody accuses him, he’ll never fucking stop. You’re safe in your castle in the clouds, J, but what about us?”
Holy shit.
“Take care of yourself,” I tell Jason and turn to go, the jab hurting like a punch to the gut. No idea what I expected to find, why I thought coming here might calm my frazzled nerves. With guilt added to the mix, I’m worse off than before.
With my stomach lodged under my ribs like a damn stone, I make my way back to my new life, knowing full well that my old one will haunt me forever.
After a night spent tossing and turning, caught in nightmares and twisted in my sheets, I finally catch some shuteye with the sunrise, a pillow jammed over my head to keep out the light. I slip in and out of dreams, or memories, dark places with the stench of piss and vomit, yelling ringing in my ears as I cower, small and powerless, trying to hide.
But the hands always find me and drag me, kicking and screaming, back into the fear and pain.
The knock-knock seems to come out of the blue. It comes again, smashing into my sleep, shattering the dreams.
Thank God.
I open bleary eyes and squint as the door cracks open. A shaggy dark head pops inside.
Alex, I think, my brain hurting as it tries to come awake. My roommate. Important to clarify this, even as my body still shakes with remembered fear.
“What?” I croak, hugging my pillow, wincing at the sunrays spearing through the window and straight through my head.
“Someone here for you. A girl. Says you told her to come this morning.”
A girl? Who…?
Amber.
Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Throwing off the sheet, I shoot to my feet and stagger sideways. My head hurts as if I’ve been drinking.
Have I? My memories of last night are somewhat disjointed, but I may have joined Travis and Gage in a few glasses of whiskey after returning home from my second job of the day.
Ow.
“Don’t let her in. I mean, not yet. Give me five minutes, okay?”
Alex looks at me as if I’m speaking Klingon. Was he drinking with us? Fuck if I remember. Maybe. Important thing is, he closes the door, leaving me to scrub the sleep out of my eyes and put some order to my room.
Not an easy feat after such a night—or in general. I stumble a couple of times, my feet caught in dirty clothes. I don’t have many, but apparently last night I thought it was a good idea to drop them all on the floor. What the hell?
Oh, they aren’t dirty clothes. They’re the new clothes I bought with Amber. So last night I was angry—at her? At the clothes?
Shit.
I tidy up as best I can, pull the sheet and comforter up on the bed, then crack the door open, check the hallway and make a mad dash for the shower.
The thought of her right outside, in the living room, turns my morning wood into a nuclear warhead, and I’d have jacked off if I wasn’t running so damn late. If I wasn’t worried I won’t be able to keep quiet and she’d hear me.
And damn, right on the heels of that thought comes an image of her opening the bathroom door and joining me under the spray, curling her hand around my hard-on and pumping.
Damn, I can’t help myself. I grab my cock and jerk off quickly, desperately. I imagine her breasts, her long legs wrapped around me, her face flushed with pleasure, and I come with a strangled moan, shooting my load on the tiled wall.
I lean back with a groan. Christ.
Turning off the water, I dry myself and drag on my jeans, not bothering with underwear or anything else. Okay, ready to face Amber like a human being, or almost.
That’s when I remember what I invited her over for.
“I want to draw you.”
Oh hell.
She walks into my room, her hair caught up in a messy bun, loose strands framing her small face, making her eyes look huge. Her low-cut black top has my pulse racing, and she hasn’t even sat down yet.
Disaster alert. Everyone abandon stations. I repeat, abandon stations.
She hesitates in the middle of my room and chews on her lip. “Good morning. I… I think maybe this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.”
I push off the wall, where I’ve been pretending to lean all cool and shit, and lurch after her. “Wait!”
She stops with a hand on the door frame. Her purse slips from her shoulder and hits the floor with a dull thud, but she doesn’t turn around.
I reach her, refusing to acknowledge the relief flooding me, and skim up her arm with my fingertips, tangle them in a loose curl. I love how she shivers. How she feels, like silk and feathers.
Leaning in, I whisper in her ear, “Please stay.”
Fighting the urge to press my mouth to her neck, I suck in a deep breath, try to control my body. Scary how much I want her. How easily I’d forget Zane’s warnings, forget I shouldn’t be doing this.
Forget that she deserves better, forget everything but my need for her, a need that goes deeper than anything I’ve ever felt before. I want to meld myself with her, merge, make her…
Make her mine.
Fuck.
“Okay,” she says. “What should I do?”
I gesture at my bed. “Take a seat, make yourself comfortable. I’ll sit over here,” I point at the only chair I have in my room, “and draw you. That’s all.”
I step away and go grab my drawing pad from a box in the corner, grab my charcoal pencil and eraser, and sink into the seat.
When I look up, my mouth goes dry.
She’s sitting on my mattress, her hair loose on her shoulders, and she’s leaning forward, her top dipping low, giving me a glimpse of the pale mounds of her tits.
Tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, my hard-on pushing frantically against the seam of my jeans, I stare and stare.
“JJ?” Her uncertain voice is like a splash of cold water. She’s staring right back, frozen in place, one hand planted on top of my blanket.
“Perfect,” I rasp, coming down to earth and clutching the drawing pad over my crotch to hide how excited my dick is to see her. “That’s perfect. Stay… stay like that.”
Swallowing hard, attempting to bring some moisture back into my mouth, I start sketching quickly, broad lines, bold strokes to capture the posture, the curves of her body, the wild tangle of her dark hair, her wide eyes.
I botch the line of her thigh and blot it out with the special eraser. Fuck, fuck. My hands are shaky.
“Where did you learn to draw?” she asks, and I pause, the charcoal gripped in my hand.
“Learn?”
“Yeah. Who
taught you how to draw?”
“Nobody taught me.” I shade in her hair, a storm cloud around her face. “Z-man takes a look at my drawings from time to time, gives me suggestions.”
“You’re self-taught?”
I glance up from the pad, blink at her. She looks startled. After what I told her last time we met, I thought it was clear my past wasn’t all special tutors and expensive lessons. Fuck, does she even know or guess I never finished school?
“Sorry,” she whispers, bites her lip—goddammit—and wiggles on her knees. “Didn’t mean to break your concentration.”
Is she kidding me? She intrudes on every thought and every wish that goes through my mind. I gaze into her denim-blue eyes, and I have visions of us tangled in my sheets, of me licking the sweat off her thighs as I bend between them, of her crying out my name—
The charcoal falls from my fingers and crashes to the floor with a sound like a bomb going off.
The fuck.
I leave the piece lying there and tear off the drawing, let it drift down to join the charcoal. I need something softer to nail her expression, the heavy-lidded bedroom eyes, the parted lips, the contrast between her dark halo and her sky-hued gaze. Soft and nervous, sexy and unsure, I want it all.
At least I’ll have her on paper, so I can look at her long after she’s gone from my life.
“You finished?”
“Hm?” I shade in the outline of her mouth, then glance up at her. “What?”
She’s leaning back, hands gripping the headboard, her black top riding up to reveal her bellybutton, and I shift uneasily in my seat. My balls ache with the need to come. I’ve been hard for… how long now? Hours. Hours spent staring at her, fantasizing. Wanting her.
I wonder briefly if chronic boners can prove fatal. It sure feels like it. I’m hard for her, but inside my resolve is weakening, softening, and my heart is pounding as I look at her.
So fucked…
“I said, have you finished with the drawing?” She wrinkles her nose. “You’ve been staring at it for a while now.”
Damn cute. I try to find words. Language fails me, so I grunt, and I hope she takes it as a yes.
“You probably want to do other stuff,” she says, sitting up, tugging on her blouse, and my eyes follow the way it molds over her lush curves. “Eat lunch, meet with friends. I don’t know… Stuff.”
She’s leaving.
I’m on my feet before I realize and walking over to her, the drawing pad and pencil thudding to the bare floor.
“Haven’t finished.” Not done with you.
“But I thought you—”
I sink down on the bed and lick my lips. I feel like a wolf licking his chops. I’ll scare her if I keep this up, so I scramble for an explanation.
I can’t. Can’t explain it even to myself.
So instead I lift my hands to her shoulders, skimming over her slender collarbone.
“What…?” she begins, and I shush her.
“One more drawing,” I say and grip the straps of her top. “Is this okay, Embers?”
I wait until she nods, and when she does, my fucking breath catches.
Shit, I’ve been dying to do this, to stroke her soft skin, to see more of her. She’s watching me, a blush coloring her cheeks, and my dick twitches in my pants. I’ve never felt so close to coming only by cupping a girl’s soft shoulders and staring into her eyes, so clear you’d think the darkening blue in their depths is her soul.
Time slows as I tug the straps over her arms, and slowly peel the fabric from her body, baring her to me.
Holy fuck. I thought she’d be wearing one of those strapless bras underneath… Nope. No bra. And goddammit, she’s fucking beautiful. More beautiful than I imagined her to be, and that’s after jacking off to the image of her. But her tits, man… Round and larger than I thought they’d be, crowned with rosy nipples that are hardening as I watch, rising to peaks.
“Jesus, girl,” I whisper, my pulse pounding until I think my heart will break out of my chest. “You trying to kill me or something?”
“You’re the one who wanted to take it off,” she murmurs, and damn, her voice, low and silky, wraps around my raging hard-on like a ribbon, pulling and tightening.
“I was. I am. I mean, I want it.” Hell. I need to grab my drawing pad and pencil, but as she draws a long breath, her tits rise and fall, and I can’t… Fuck, I don’t know if I can keep away.
I don’t think I can.
I thought I could. Guess I was wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time in my life.
“JJ.” Something dark flares in her eyes.
She wants this. Wants me, and the knowledge slams into me so hard I think I’m gonna come just from that. Don’t know why the fact this specific girl wants me gets me so turned on. But oh man, it does.
The trick is not stopping to question why she’d want someone like me, if she has realized what I am and what I’ve been. Question what she really wants from me. ’Cuz that’s shifty ground. Quicksand.
I bend over her. I run my mouth over the juncture between her shoulder and neck, where her pulse jumps, and she moans, her nipples hard against my chest as she shifts on the mattress.
I’m panting, seconds away from pushing her on her back and slamming into her. Or going down on her. Or sucking on her tits until she comes from that. Whatever she prefers.
“What do you want?” she asks again, more softly, and this time I give in.
“I want you,” I say and lay her down.
Chapter Thirteen
Amber
Wow, I think as my back hits the mattress and Jesse Lee leans over me, hands planted firmly on either side of my head, his wide mouth crooked in a half smile. I don’t know when I stopped trying to resist him and gave myself up.
He screws girls for fun, Amber. What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?
Maybe. Probably. Hell yes. But I want him too much. Could be if I sleep with him I’ll get over him. God knows the handful of times I’ve been with a guy in the past had me running for the hills. No reason why it should be any different now.
Although I don’t want to run. Not from him. He’s fun and kind and fascinating and oh God, so gorgeous.
Holy crap, Amber.
I should hold out, I should keep away from him—only I can’t. Not when he’s so close I can smell his cinnamon scent blending with the musk of his arousal, when I feel his erection pressed on my thigh like a hot iron rod and those remarkable jade-blue eyes lock briefly with mine before drifting lower, checking out every exposed inch of me—from my mouth, to my neck and my aching breasts, the tips painfully hard as I throb deep inside. Needing him to touch me.
Hard muscles flex in his arms as he lowers himself on one elbow, freeing his other hand to stroke down my arm and brush over my ribs. It tickles, and then he strokes his hand under my breast, cupping it, and I forget how to breathe. It fits perfectly in his large palm, and I watch as if from a distance his thumb circle my nipple, drawing it into a hard, tight peak. Pleasure streaks through me, a lightning bolt of heat straight to my core, and I arch on the bed.
“Jesus, Embers, you’re hot,” he breathes, his finger torturing my nipple, sending bolt after bolt of need through me. “Look what you’ve been hiding under those pretty flouncy tops. You shouldn’t hide. You’re so damn sexy.”
His words make me shiver, and when he switches to my other breast, I think I’m going to self-combust with arousal. I shift on the bed, needing something, anything to relieve the ache between my legs.
“I want…” You. I want to see him naked, run my hands over his inked chest and arms, see his hard-rock erection that’s digging into my thigh as he shifts. See him writhe in pleasure, see him lose control and admit… admit it’s because of me.
Yeah, as if I’m something special to him. I’m probably just another notch on his bedpost.
Too much thinking, and his hand has stilled, covering my breast, a warm weight.
“You with me, Embe
rs?” he rasps, the blue-green of his eyes swallowed by black. It’s a hungry look, and no matter how I try to bring myself back down to earth, I’m sucked into another eddy of desire.
“And you?” I quiver under his touch, as his rough palm lightly scrapes on my aching nipple and then moves down to my stomach.
“I’m right here.” He bends his head closer, as his fingers tiptoe past my bellybutton to the hem of my pants and dip underneath, right into my panties. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
Then he covers my mouth with his, swallowing my startled moan as his fingers part my folds and dip inside me, bold and demanding, searching. Filling me up, stretching and edging me on until I gather up my knees to lift my hips, take his fingers deeper.
And all the while, he’s kissing me, thrusting his tongue inside my mouth, mimicking the movement of his fingers, and it feels so good. So incredibly good that I’m hovering on that fine edge between too much and right there, the pressure cresting until I cry out in his mouth, my hips rocking, and fireworks go off behind my eyes.
Oh God, never felt anything like it. My few encounters never prepared me for this. His fingers keep pumping and the spasms in my core are so intense they hurt at first, then the pleasure skyrockets and I cry out again, helpless under his touch.
He breaks the kiss, panting softly, gazing at me with a bemused and slightly wide-eyed expression on his face.
Did I just come twice from his fingers inside me? Jesus and crap on a cracker. My body is still shaking, trying to come to terms with what happened. Could it be because I want him so much, because of the pressure building inside me day after day?
Rationalizing isn’t helping, especially when he slowly withdraws his fingers, brings them up, and smells them. It’s my turn to stare at him, at the dark ripple of need in his gaze. His hard-on is pressing against me, urgent and hot, and that sexy, lazy grin curls up one corner of his mouth.
“Did’ya like that, kitten?” he rumbles. “I wonder what else you might like…”
“Kitten?” My voice comes out kinda squeaky, and I wince. Very sexy.
