Even Better (Stripped #2.5)

by Skye Warren

  Even Better

  Skye Warren

  Thank you for reading the Stripped series! EVEN BETTER is a novella about Blue and Lola, the couple from BETTER WHEN IT HURTS. It’s best read in sequence, but this story can also stand alone. And it includes an extended preview of PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY, the next novel in the Stripped series.

  You can join my Facebook group for fans to discuss the series here: Skye Warren’s Dark Room. And you can sign up for my newsletter to find out about new releases at skyewarren.com/newsletter.

  Enjoy the story…

  Chapter One

  Blue traces circles on my skin, leaving goose bumps in his wake. I’m still panting and shaking from the orgasm he gave me, but he looks completely relaxed. This is really the only time he looks relaxed, in the seconds after orgasm. In the brief, breathless moments when he’s just spilled his come inside me.

  Now he’s lying next to me, touching me. Always touching me.

  Even sated, he doesn’t lose his fascination with my body. He runs blunt fingertips along my collarbone and down my side. I gasp at the ticklish sensation. My arms are still above my head, right where he tied them. I thought he’d let me go when he was done with me.

  I guess he’s not done with me.

  It feels good, being wanted. Kind of like it felt at the club, but without the steady stream of strangers and humiliation aspect. Well, he still humiliates me—but only in ways we both enjoy.

  He cups my breast and runs his thumb over my nipple. I shudder.

  “Blue,” I whisper.

  “Beautiful,” he says, nice and easy.

  “I want… I need…” I can’t even explain what I need. An orgasm? He’s already given me three, and I know we’re not done. I can already feel his cock twitching against my thigh, getting ready for another round.

  I’m not sure I’ll survive.

  “I know, baby,” he says, almost sympathetic. Almost. Not quite. He knows how hard he works my body, but he doesn’t let up. He takes my nipple between thumb and forefinger—and squeezes. He doesn’t let up even one goddamn inch.

  I squirm against the pain, but that only makes it worse. “It’s too much.”

  “Is it?” he asks casually, and I know he doesn’t believe that for one second. He draws a wavy path down my body, across my stomach, and down to my pussy, where he slips two fingers inside—sudden and thick.

  I’m still wet with his come and my arousal, and that eases his way. He draws out that moisture and taps his forefinger against my clit, the slickness cold. It feels like ice, my own arousal used against me, and I twist, trying to get away. I don’t end up anywhere.

  He makes a tsk sound. “This doesn’t feel like too much. It feels like you’re ready for more.”

  “No,” I moan, but it’s a lie. My body does want more. Whatever he does to me, I want more of it. It’s sick and depraved—and God help me, I want more of that too.

  His lips turn up in a lazy smile. “I like it when you tell me no.”

  My breath shudders out of me, and I don’t have to force the fear in my voice. “What are you going to do?”

  You might think he’d take it easy on me. It’s just a random Thursday night, and we’ve been going for hours already. If anything, he gets more worked up as we go—as if everything that came before is just a warm-up. As if he’s constantly thinking of new dirty things to do to me.

  He looks thoughtful as he examines my body, spread open for his perusal. “I think I’m going to claim you,” he says.

  Claim me? I’m already his. Already owned by him, body and soul.

  He dips his fingers into my wet channel once more, curling his fingers just enough to make my hips jerk. Then he uses the wetness—his come—to write across my breasts. The letter M. The letter I. Then N and E.

  MINE.

  My breath hitches. It’s just come, but it feels like he’s branded me. I can feel it drying on my skin, soaking in and becoming part of me. I’m his.

  Then his hand trails lower, back to my stomach.

  He rests his palm there, flat. “I’m going to claim you completely,” he says. “I’m going to keep fucking you until it takes, until you’re round with my seed. And I’m not going to stop fucking you then either.”

  I bite my lip, because that scares me worse. It’s not the first time he’s brought that up. Starting a family. Making me pregnant. Getting turned on by the thought. I’m still on the pill now, and he’s never asked me to stop. Right now it’s just talk—an extension of the dirty talk he whispers in my ear every night. But even as just talk…

  God, it terrifies me. Not because I think he’ll abandon me like my parents did or all the foster parents that came after. At least I don’t think he will. More that I’m scared of what kind of mother I’ll be. I never grew up with one.

  The closest thing I had to a parent was Mrs. Owens, an older woman who was my foster mom for a few months before they pulled me out again. Once I turned eighteen, I looked her up and found her house in disrepair, her Alzheimer’s getting worse every day. I ended up spending more time taking care of her than she did of me—not that I begrudged her that—but I am the last person who knows what a good mother is like. The last person to know what a family is like.

  Blue’s eyes darken. He leans forward, and the brush of a kiss on my forehead is more gentle than anything that came before—or anything that will happen next. “I’m claiming you because you’re the strongest, most courageous, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met in my entire fucking life.”

  Now I’m fighting the bonds on my wrist in earnest. It’s one thing for him to use me, for him to degrade me and fuck me raw. It’s another entirely for him to compliment me. I’m not made for that. I’m not used to it. It makes me itch from the inside out, like I don’t fit in my own skin.

  “Shh,” he soothes, petting me, stroking me.

  I don’t calm down, can’t calm down, until he pinches my nipples. The bite of pain brings me back to this bed. Sometimes it’s the only thing that can bring me back. I see a flash of disappointment across his face, so quick it might never have been there.

  He understands how hard this is for me. He could whip me bloody and it wouldn’t be as hard as this—as letting myself hope for the future.

  The only time I’ve ever had anything, the brief moment in time when Blue was my foster brother and he cared about me, almost loved me, I’d lost him. I think he isn’t going to leave me. I know damn well I’d never leave him. But it’s hard not to think, to fear, in my darkest moments, that I’ll lose him again.

  He pinches my other nipple, harder this time, and a cry escapes me.

  “That’s right,” he says, his voice stern. “You focus on me. Understand?”

  It’s that low timbre that has me nodding yes. I’d do anything he orders me to in that voice, give anything to please him when he’s like this, greedy and harsh.

  He rises up to kneel and kicks one knee across me, straddling my chest. “Now you’re going to suck me until I’m ready to fuck you again, got it? We’re going to keep doing this until your pussy is full, aren’t we? And then I’m going to set you up with a pillow under your ass and let all that seed work its way up.”

  God. His words shouldn’t turn me on so much, but my hips are already rising up, begging to be filled.

  He just gives me a low chuckle and presses his cock against my lips. “Suck.”

  I open my mouth as he pushes inside. My hands are still tied to the headboard, my head supported by a pillow. I can barely move at all—instead I just lie there while he fucks my mouth. I don’t have a choice, and that makes it hotter.

  He can fuck me shallow or deep, fast or slow. He can shove all the way inside and cut off my air.
He’ll do all of those in turn, first letting me run my tongue around the head of his cock, tasting the flavor of his come and my arousal coating him.

  Then he pushes in deep, rubbing the crest against the back of my throat until I gag. The way his hands tighten in my hair, I know it turns him on to hear me make the sound. Especially when he pulls out and pushes back in, relishing the way I struggle for him.

  “Yeah,” he says, voice drunk, eyes dark slits as he stares down at me. “Work for it, beautiful. Make me good and hard.”

  He’s already hard, but I can’t tell him that—not with my mouth full of his thick cock. I can’t do anything but suck in ragged breaths when he lets me, stroke him with my tongue when I can.

  His fist tightens to the point of pain, and tears spring to my eyes, blurring my vision. I don’t need to see him to know what comes next. He’s holding me steady so he can fuck my mouth, fast and hard. He keeps up a steady rhythm. I manage to breathe through my nose, and for a few minutes it feels like I can handle him.

  Then he speeds up and goes deeper.

  I gag around him, but there’s no time to recover, no time to react. I can only struggle and fight against my ties, against him—I can only fight against the world while he invades me, relentless and cruel.

  The doorbell rings.

  He freezes. Carefully, he pulls back enough so that I can breathe and swallow. But his cock is still filling my mouth. I can’t talk as I look up at him.

  “Who the fuck?” he mutters.

  His head is cocked like he’s listening. Probably hoping they’ll go away, whoever they are.

  I’m hoping the same thing, because my pussy is clamped down tight around nothing. I want his cock filling me up, rubbing against my walls. I want the hot splash of his come to soothe me.

  Testing him, I run my tongue over the head of his cock.

  “Fuck,” he mutters.

  The doorbell rings again, and Blue swears. “If it’s Mr. Robicheaux, I’m going to barricade the damn door.”

  I have to laugh at that. Mr. Robicheaux is the older gentleman who shares the floor of this swanky condo building with us. Blue reluctantly agreed to dog sit Mr. Robicheaux’s Pomeranian one weekend when he visited his children. Ever since then his neighbor has a tendency to drop by at odd hours and share some tidbit about the dog’s sleeping habits or the TV Guide. You’d think a guy as gruff as Blue wouldn’t give him the time of day, but he’s actually been patient.

  It completely charms me.

  Blue pulls on jeans and a T-shirt, still grumbling. Before he leaves, he tugs at the ties on my wrists, and the cloth falls to the bed. He points at me, already heading to the door. “Do not fucking move.”

  I’m grinning when he leaves. He could have left me tied up. It probably would have turned him on to know I couldn’t move. Hell, it would have turned me on. But it isn’t really safe to leave me tied up without supervision, so he didn’t do it.

  Damn, it feels good to have someone care.

  It feels good to have Blue care. And that is flat-out terrifying. I need him, more than he knows. And a lot more than is safe.

  I hear voices coming from the living room, and they pique my curiosity. It can’t be Mr. Robicheaux unless he’s dropped an octave. And Blue sounds almost like he’s… laughing? No matter how patient he is with his elderly neighbor, he doesn’t actually shoot the shit.

  I hesitate in bed a half a second. Do not fucking move.

  Curiosity has me disobeying his order and throwing on some of Blue’s clothes that were lying on the bed—a white undershirt and some boxers that fit him snug but are large shorts on me.

  As I open the door, I can hear the voices more clearly.

  “What the fuck, man? You said you were coming tomorrow.” That’s Blue.

  Another voice answers. “What can I say? I had the chance to take an earlier flight, and I couldn’t wait to see your ugly mug. The doorman sent me up. Said you were expecting me.”

  There’s more laughing and good-natured ribbing. It all comes to a screeching halt when the guy spots me in the hallway. Heat rushes to my cheeks. Caught.

  Blue turns and sees me. Amusement flashes through his face, along with a promise—oh, he’d punish me later. For now he smiles and reaches for me. “Come here, beautiful. This is West.”

  West is one of Blue’s friends from the military. I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard some stories. He stayed in the military after Blue had left, but now he’s out. The plan is that he’ll move down here and work at the Grand under Blue’s new security firm.

  Apprehension slows my step, but I still make my way over and let Blue pull me to his side.

  “This is Hannah,” he says, the pride clear in his voice.

  I smile, feeling shy. Maybe because I’m meeting someone important to Blue. Maybe also because I’m only wearing Blue’s undershirt and boxers. Add to that my rumpled hair and cheeks that must be pink, and he’ll surely know what we’ve been doing. Blue’s come is still a faint taste in my mouth, the word MINE still written across my breasts, even if he can’t see.

  West nods, managing to look totally respectful despite all this. He’s tall with dark skin, and though he’s almost as big as Blue, he’s got a laid-back demeanor that sets me at ease. “Ma’am.”

  I have to laugh at that. I’ve worked the past few years as a stripper at the Grand, something he must know. And before that I was nobody, a foster kid with no place for a home. “No one calls me ‘ma’am.’”

  He grins. “Sorry, it’s just habit at this point. Spent way too long in a tent to know how to talk to people now. Kind of like this asshole,” he says, nodding toward Blue, “but here he is with a decent place and a girl of his own. Pardon my language.”

  A girl of his own. I liked the sound of that. “Nah, he’s kind of an asshole,” I admit. “But I can handle him.”

  “I believe that,” he says, giving me a once-over that’s appreciative but not aggressive.

  “Watch it,” Blue growls, but West just laughs.

  Chapter Two

  Blue had told me about West moving down here and about him working in the Grand. He didn’t mention that West would be staying at the condo for a few days until he found a place of his own. I don’t mind the company, especially after meeting West and seeing how laid-back he is. But it bothers me that I didn’t know about it.

  It’s a cold reminder that this isn’t my condo.

  I just live here. I want to be secure with Blue, to really trust that he wants me here for good. But I have too much history of being kicked out, of getting moved around from foster home to foster home, of being unwanted. It’s hard to shake an entire childhood of conditioning that I’m unworthy.

  I try to shake that feeling though. Blue is worth it. And somehow West makes me feel comfortable, even though he’s just arrived. We spend the next day together at the apartment while Blue is at work.

  “No way,” I say between gasped breaths.

  West is laughing too. “I swear, he had no memory of getting a tattoo, but we were all looking at the evidence of it. I mean all looking at it. He wasn’t wearing any clothes.”

  I bite my lip to hold in a laugh at the thought of Blue after a hangover, trying to be stern for his squad but totally naked. I’ve seen Blue naked more than enough times to picture it. Although… “How come I haven’t seen this?”

  “He got it removed.”

  “Who got what removed?” I turn to see Blue striding into the room, tossing his suit jacket onto the couch and loosening his tie. “You aren’t telling stories about me, are you?”

  He gives West a dire look that just makes me grin like an idiot. “Maybe he wouldn’t have to tell me if you told me,” I say pointedly.

  Blue snorts as he sits beside me—and proceeds to drag me onto his lap. He flicks off West. “Some things are better forgotten.”

  God, that is the truth. “Not this, though. What was the tattoo of?”

  West grins but says nothing.

  �
��This is definitely evidence of how much I love you,” Blue says with obvious suffering. He grimaces. “It was a….a moon.”

  I blink. “A moon?” Then understanding dawns. “As in, a blue moon?”

  It’s too much. I break down into giggles, and before I know it, Blue has me turned over his lap and he’s swatting my ass. “Are you laughing at me, beautiful?”

  “Yes,” I gasp out, and then he’s spanking me some more, but it only makes me laugh harder.

  By the time we’ve righted ourselves, I’m straddling Blue’s lap and he’s kissing me. It’s a deep, sensual kiss, the kind he usually gives me when he’s back from work. That look makes me want to slide to the floor and give him a “welcome home” blowjob. We’re only abstaining because we have company, but I can tell from the tension in Blue’s body that he’s thinking about it.

  He gently shoves me off his lap, and I cross my legs in my own chair, not quite able to meet West’s eyes.

  Blue is the one who starts up the conversation. “Settling in okay?”

  “Settling in a little too well. Your place is so damn comfortable, and Hannah here made me lunch. Not much motivation to find my own place, I’m afraid.”

  “If you think her sandwiches are good, wait until you try dinner.”

  “I believe that.”

  “Well, hell. Stay as long as you want. Not like we’re using the room for anything else.”

  “Yeah,” I echo softly. “Stay.”

  Of course that just reminds me this isn’t my place to offer. Or maybe it is. Blue insists that I should feel at home, but I have something in common with West. I’m comfortable here. Too comfortable. And I’m not sure that I really belong.

  Blue studies me, eyes curious and sharp. “You’ve got a break between classes, don’t you?”

  “Something like that.” I don’t add that I didn’t register for the next semester. I didn’t know what the hell to take. It was easy when I was studying for my GED. And then taking the kind of English Lit 101 classes that are required from everyone. I felt like I was catching up with the rest of the world, knowledge I should have had all along.