Bad Wolf

by Jo Raven

  “But you’re not wearing it anymore.”

  “I’ve come a long way since then,” she whispers and leans her head on my chest, over my heart. I wonder if she can hear how fast it’s beating, what her closeness is producing in me. “When I realized I don’t need it anymore, I took it off.”

  “It’s beautiful.” I chew on the inside of my cheek. “You know what I said, about a toy I had?”

  “Embers,” she says softly. “You said it was the only thing you had from your childhood.”

  She remembers. The realization makes my eyes sting, and I don’t know the hell why. “Yeah. I guess the color was golden, like embers from a fire. It was a stuffed animal. A small, filthy thing without eyes or a tail.” I glance again at the pendant. “A lion.”

  She makes a small distressed sound, and I pull away to look at her. But before I do, she ducks under my arm and jumps on the bed.

  Hiding from me, and I’m drawn to her more and more, and I don’t know why.

  Maybe it’s the pain of her past, the bullying, the loss of her belief in herself. The move away from her childhood, the fear of losing it all. The fear of never being able to trust anyone ever again.

  I know that feeling. I know that pain.

  Fuck me. I think I know now why she felt so familiar from the start. I didn’t meet her before, and she doesn’t remind me of anyone else I know.

  She reminds me of myself.

  Teeth brushed, face splashed with cold water, I’m standing in Amber’s bedroom, leaning back on the closed door. Clutching my baseball cap in my hand, I hesitate, not sure what she expects of me. The buzz of alcohol is fading, and I’m hyper aware of her soft, sexy body curled under the covers.

  She sits up, and the golden light of her bedside lamp catches the sweet curve of her cheek, her soft lips, the pale roundness of her breasts over the neckline of her blouse.

  Mouth gone dry, I stare, my pants growing tighter by the second, my dick so excited you’d think I’ve never seen a chick before.

  Ridiculous. Fucking hilarious. Jesse the manwhore, hesitating to jump into bed with a girl. Only, I’ve never been in a bed with a girl, and let’s face it, never a girl as pretty as this. As kind as this. As smart and funny, getting under my skin, making me fantasize about her. Making me feel.

  Damn.

  If I get into her bed, we’ll have sex. I know it by looking at her face. She wants it. Wants me. Her chest is rising and falling fast, her breathing ragged. As for me, if I climb under the covers and take her in my arms, I won’t be able to stop myself from taking her hard.

  And then it will be over. She’ll be just another girl, another fuck.

  I don’t want that, and it scares me shitless.

  You don’t mix sexual fantasies with feelings, ever. Feelings are… dangerous. Like her. But it’s too late. I can’t stop feeling when she’s around, and it fucking hurts.

  “JJ?” Her voice is low and light, wrapping like a fine thread around me, tugging me toward her.

  I kick off my shoes, take off my socks, undo my belt and push down my pants, letting them pool around my ankles. Her gaze follows my movements as I step free, then I tear off my T-shirt as I walk toward the bed.

  Her eyes are dark pools in the dimness. She scoots back, giving me space to climb in beside her. I expect her to touch me, say something, but she lies on her side, watching me as I stretch down and fold an arm behind my head.

  My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her bare, long legs. Her tits fight to be free of her top, soft and so unbearably close. One second more of this and I’ll roll over, grab her and—

  Her hand alights on my chest, and I still. The warmth of her palm sends a shiver of fire all the way to my balls.

  “What do you need, kitten?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “Say it.”

  She shakes her head and bites her lip.

  I should close my eyes and pretend to fall asleep, but I can’t look away. She’s a contradiction—shy and yet quick to reply, pretty and yet unaware of it, scared and yet courageous. Sexy. Distant.

  So damn close to my raging hard-on, and yet so damn far I could weep.

  “Embers—”

  “Your turn,” she says ands sits up, the covers pooling at her waist. Her dark hair tumbles around her face, on her shoulders, and her eyes… Fuck, they’re like mirrors. Mirrors reflecting me. “What do you want?”

  She looks nervous. I open my mouth to give her a flippant reply—but I can’t find the words. What is she doing to me?

  So I do the only thing I know how. I twist and slide my hands under her blouse, finding her lush tits and thumbing her nipples which harden. The breath leaves her lungs in a whoosh and she falls back against the cushions, her eyes wide.

  “JJ…”

  “I’ll take care of you, kitten.” I drag her blouse up and off her, and put my mouth on her pretty nipples. I love her sweet taste, her scent of caramel and the fainter whiff of coconut from her hair. My dick jumps and twitches between my legs as I lick and lightly bite, then switch to her other breast and repeat. Fuck, I’m so turned on I’m in real danger of coming from this little taste. “Let me.”

  She moans something, writhing as I slip her tiny shorts and lacey panties off, then dip my finger into her tight heat.

  Christ.

  Getting chicks off with my hands, yeah, I’m good at that. An expert. Been doing it all my life. What I need… Hell, who cares what I need? What she makes me want and wish for. It’s easier to fall back into the role I know by heart, the one expected of me.

  She convulses, letting out a mewling cry, and I bow my head, sobbing for breath, my dick throbbing and weeping inside my briefs, aching like a bitch for release.

  What the fuck am I doing with this chick—in her bed, for chrissakes? I never do this shit. I need to get out before I give in and fuck her. Fuck her up, like I do with everything that means something to me.

  But before I roll out of bed to search for my clothes and run like hell, she grabs my arms and holds on with surprising strength.

  “Where are you going?” she asks, her voice a bit raspy, her eyes heavy-lidded.

  I swallow hard. If possible, she looks even sexier now, loose-limbed and disheveled, her tits exposed. Looking at her rosy nipples makes me lick my lips, hungry to taste more of her, taste the sweetness of her pussy, make her scream—only I never go down on chicks, and that’s a rule I’ve never broken.

  “That wasn’t fair,” she whispers. “I asked what you wanted. You, not me.”

  What is she talking about?

  “I don’t…” I have to clear my voice and try again. “I don’t understand.”

  Because I really don’t.

  When I worked the sidewalk, the women who went with me had specific ideas in mind of what they desired—fantasies their husbands couldn’t give them. Mostly it was me, fucking them hard against the wall, in the kitchen, on the sofa. They paid me to play out a role and make them come, and I did.

  Afterward, the chicks I’ve been with also knew what they needed. They told me how to get them off—hands or cock—and the shortest way to get me off, too. We never kissed. Never held hands. Never hugged or touched otherwise. They thought that’s how all guys think, that they’d win points with me for not wasting time, racing toward pleasure.

  They didn’t win any points. They never thought to ask. They never…

  “You always ask what I want,” she whispers, her lashes casting impossibly long shadows on her cheeks, her wild hair framing her face. So goddamn beautiful. “What about what you want?”

  I could still make fun of it, laugh it off, ignore the strange twinge in my chest at her desire to please me. Tell her I want to bury myself balls-deep inside her and fuck her until I come. I could tell her she’s stupid for asking.

  But that’s not what comes out of my mouth.

  “I wanna kiss you,” I breathe. “And hold you.”

  The fuck?

  Her eyes widen, and we stare at each other, bo
th shocked at my words. I’m sure she’s about to laugh, or sneer, or ask me if I’m serious—am I?

  Instead, she bends over, brushes her lips over mine—and I’m gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Amber

  He tastes faintly of my mint toothpaste and something dark and spicy, like chili chocolate. Delicious, so much better than I remember, and then his arm slips around my waist, crushing me to him. I collapse half on top of him and he tucks me by his side and keeps kissing me, his tongue tangling with mine, setting me on fire. His large, strong hand strokes down my back and cups my ass, possessive and firm but steady, keeping me in place as he devours my mouth like it’s his favorite sweet.

  We kiss and kiss. My hand rests on his hard chest, and I’m dying to explore his muscled body, starting from the pierced nipples to the impressive erection that’s trying to push out of his briefs, but I stop myself and let him do what he pleases.

  He hums in my mouth, one hand locked on my backside, the other coming up to cup my face, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. It’s tender, and hot, and not at all what I expected when I asked him what he wanted.

  Truth is, I expected him to demand something racy, something dirty and raw. No idea what I’d have done if that was what he asked for.

  I’d have gone down on him if he’d said so. I never tried doing it before, but the thought of giving him pleasure is heady. Makes me ache with need—the need to feel him, feel his lips and hands on me, feel him inside of me.

  But what he asked is so sweet my heart is melting.

  Oh God… I pull back, breaking the kiss, my breath coming in shallow pants. Wow. Kissing him is so hot.

  “I could kiss you forever,” he whispers, his lips so close to mine I feel the words forming. I turn my head and the rough stubble on his jaw scrapes on my cheek. “I could hold you forever.”

  “Didn’t think you’d like this,” I say, my heart pounding.

  He blinks at me, absurdly long, dark lashes shielding his eyes. He looks boyish like that, and adorably confused. “Never done this with anyone else,” he whispers. “Never kissed anyone. Only you.”

  I turn back to look at him and catch that flash of vulnerability in his gaze.

  Okay, scratch melting. I want to hug him so hard right now he may never recover. If I’m not careful, I’ll break his bones and he’ll break my heart, scatter the pieces to the winds and go back to his manwhore ways before I realize what has happened.

  I shift on one elbow and trail my hand on his stomach, trace the bumps of his perfect abs upward, toward his pecs. “What about kissing you here?”

  His pulse jumps under my hand, and the muscles in his stomach tense when I bend and kiss his chest. “What…?”

  His skin is silky smooth, stretched over steel. I trail my lips up his bulging pec and tug lightly on the silver hoop piercing his nipple with my teeth. He tastes of salt and sugar and metal.

  His breath hitches, and his hands tighten on my hips. I do the same to the other one, tugging and licking, and he groans. “Fuck, Embers…”

  I hope I look more confident than I feel. Never done anything like this before, but he seems to like it, and I love mapping his beautiful body. Knowing he can’t help the sounds escaping him, or the way his hips buck up, is so hot. I trail my hand down his flat stomach, down his fine treasure trail, and stop when his hard-on bumps into my wrist. Still clothed in his briefs, the head of his cock is trying to push free, leaving a wet patch in the soft black cotton.

  I lift my head, staring at it, at the outline of his rock-hard cock and the bulge of his balls in the tight briefs, breathless and needing… needing him.

  But not yet. This is about him, not me. And even though I had my doubts when I offered, I don’t have them anymore. Not when he’s looking at me with wide eyes, his body straining up, toward me, when my every light touch and kiss makes him arch like he’s never been touched before.

  As I lick a trail down to his navel, I encounter quite a few invisible scars, rough patches that intrigue me. I brush my fingertips over the clothed head of his erection, and he hisses between his teeth. I dip my tongue into the small indentation of his bellybutton, then drag the elastic of his briefs down an inch and pepper the pale skin stretching over his hip with kisses.

  His scent of musk is strong down here, and his cock twitches, imprisoned in the fabric. I lay my cheek on his hip and lift the top of his briefs, ogling his hard-on.

  Never knew a man’s engorged cock could be so beautiful. So erotic. It shifts as I gaze at it, thick and long and flushed, darker than the rest of him, pulsing veins twisting around it. Never felt this irresistible urge to touch and lick and taste.

  The only sound is his harsh breathing. The roughly-hewn muscles in his thighs tremble, his abs tighten as I peel his briefs down, slowly, carefully, unwrapping him.

  His cock springs free, bobbing over his hard stomach, and he jerks and gasps, his hands fisting in the covers, his hips rolling.

  Wow. His hard-on is so much bigger than it had seemed. Frigging huge. Striking.

  Kind of intimidating.

  Powerful, too—knowing I’m the one doing this to him, that he has no way of hiding just how aroused he is. How much he’s enjoying it.

  Hot.

  I let go of the fabric of his briefs, leaving it bunched-up under his crotch, and walk my fingertips up, over his balls. They roll under my touch, and his cock jolts and bounces, leaking on his stomach. Breathless, I cup his balls, feel their weight, lift them slightly and lean down to place a kiss on them, nuzzling the base of his cock. I lick the warm skin, and he jerks and sits up.

  I still, looking up at him, wondering if I hurt him by mistake, or if it’s too much.

  “Fuck. No one’s ever done this…” His teeth are clenched and he’s panting hard, sweat glistening on his face and chest, rolling in shiny paths down his neck. “Dammit, Embers.” He flops back down on the pillows with that look of wonder on his face that makes my chest tight. “Feels so fucking good.”

  That’s all the encouragement I need. I smile at him from where I’m half-lying on him, draped over his thigh, and take my time tracing his balls and cock with my fingers and tongue and lips, until he’s moaning and twisting on the bed, those impressive muscles in his legs and chest bunching and rippling.

  God, how crazy is it that I want to rub myself all over him like a cat in heat? He’s so frigging sexy. I tug down his briefs over his knees and all the way off, and he’s lying there, a sculpted statue of male beauty, the ink on his arm and pec the only splash of color. His eyes glimmer, gray-green, as he watches me under his lashes, his mouth slightly ajar as he pants softly.

  Waiting to see what I’ll do next. His eagerness, and the knowledge I’m the first to play this game of pleasure with him makes me bold.

  “So nobody has done this to you before?” I return my hand to his balls, rolling them, and blow on his hard shaft.

  He shivers and groans. “Fuck, no.”

  “This?” I lick slowly up his cock until I reach the flared head. He tastes salty and subtly sweet.

  “No.” His voice is strangled, and his hands clench and unclench. “God, can’t…” He lifts his hips, and his cock brushes my jaw when I draw back. It’s burning hot, flushed dark and wet. “You’re killing me, kitten. Fucking Hell.”

  I close my hand around the base of his cock, and his whole body tenses and arches. His balls pull up, and he grunts something that might have been my name. He’s panting like he’s run a marathon. His head is thrown back, the tendons in his neck straining.

  Although I’ve had my release already thanks to his skilled hand, I’m on fire. It’s as if my every touch on his body echoes in mine.

  I lick the underside of his cock, his musky, salty taste exploding on my tongue. He groans like he’s in pain, and he reaches for his hard-on. His bigger hands wraps around mine and together we stroke him as I explore with my mouth the head of his cock and the small, leaking slit.

  “Embers, dammit�
��” That’s all the warning I get before he grabs my arm with his other hand and hauls me up, on top of him. Between our bodies, our hands are trapped around his hardness.

  I feel the moment he comes undone, feel his cock jerk, his hot seed splash on my chest and his. His cry bounces off the walls of my room, his body shakes and twists as if he’s trying to get away from the pleasure, as if it’s too much.

  More heat floods the space between us, and it’s so hot, so sexy, pleasurable spasms go through me—an orgasm distantly echoing his. He crushes his mouth to mine as I moan, tastes himself on my tongue, and our bodies move and slide together.

  Later, after I grab a handful of tissues from my bedside table and clean us up, when his body finally uncoils and relaxes, I pull the covers up over us and he pulls me close, wraps his arms around me until I’m half-sprawled over him. He tucks my head under his chin and holds me as sleep steals over me.

  Crap… He has tugged on every single heartstring I own. How am I supposed to not fall for him after this?

  I wake up to the feel of warm lips on mine. Gasping, I untangle my mind from a dream of lying in bed with gorgeous Jesse Lee… and find myself looking into Jesse Lee’s eyes.

  Not a dream.

  Whoa.

  His hard-on pokes me in the stomach, hot and stiff, leaving a trail of moisture. I remember touching it, tasting it, and my core clenches with desire at the memory. I’d love to curl my hand around it, to lick and tease, to hear him groan, see him lose control.

  But he doesn’t stop kissing me, doesn’t let me catch my breath. His hand slides up, cradles the back of my head while his tongue does wicked things to mine, stroking and thrusting and tangling. Turning me on until the blood in my veins burns and my breasts ache, tight and swollen, pressed to the hard planes of his chest.

  He kisses me until I’m moving against him, until I throw one leg over his, trying to relieve the aching pressure inside of me.

  In a sudden move, he grabs me and rolls me under him, keeping his mouth fused with mine. His weight presses lightly on me, because he keeps himself propped up on both hands, doing a funny little push-up while lying over me, his hardness pressing between my legs.