Ripped

by V. J. Chambers

  “Spread your legs a little wider,” he said.

  I did.

  He leaned down and nipped my neck. “You’re neglecting the dishes again.”

  “Sorry.” I reached for a dish.

  He spanked me again.

  I was taken by surprise, but it was delightful. I couldn’t help leaning my hips into his caress, as he rubbed away the sting.

  “I told you to hold still.” His voice was sharp.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, shutting my eyes.

  Another spank.

  I moaned, but I managed to keep from moving.

  “That’s better,” he murmured. “I want you just like this, Shell. Spread open for me, showing me everything, and ready to do exactly as I say.”

  I sucked in breath. Holy hell, this was hot. I’d never experienced anything like this before. If you’d asked me if I thought I would have liked it, I wouldn’t have thought that I would. But now that it was happening, I realized that it was nice. And there was an intimacy to it that I wouldn’t have predicted. There was something about surrendering myself to him that was creating a bond between us. I could feel it strengthening with each command and response.

  His fingers explored between my legs, touching my aching sex.

  I groaned. That felt wonderful. I wanted his hands there forever.

  “Oh, you’re very wet,” he said, sounding pleased. “You have a very hot little wet pussy, Shell.” He eased a finger inside me.

  I clenched on him.

  He chuckled. “A hungry little wet pussy.”

  I gasped.

  “Does this little pussy want fucked?”

  “Oh, yes,” I moaned.

  “You want me to fuck you just like this, bent over the sink in your kitchen?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want every inch of my cock slamming into you over and over again?”

  “Yes, yes,” I moaned.

  “I don’t know.” His finger moved up to circle my clit.

  I was in a frenzy now. I moved my hips against him, moaning.

  He held me in place with one hand. “I didn’t say you could move.”

  I moaned out my frustration.

  “Do you really want fucked?”

  “Yes.” It was a hiss.

  His voice at my ear, soft and self-assured. “Ask me nicely.”

  “Please?” I whispered.

  “Please what?”

  “Please fuck me.”

  “You want it bad?”

  “I want it so bad. All I can think about is your cock. I need it. Please… Please Ripper. Fuck me.”

  He sucked in breath. “What did you call me?”

  I knew his name now, but somehow the other name, the moniker he used for killing, was the only one that I had thought. “Ripper,” I said again.

  He seized me by the hips, running his hands over my thighs and pressing himself against me. I felt the heat of his erection against my ass. “Say it again.”

  “Ripper,” I breathed.

  “Beg me again,” he said. He was fumbling with his pants. His voice was breathless, low, harsh.

  “Please fuck me, Ripper.”

  “Oh, shit, Shell.” And he was inside me.

  He was huge and thick and lovely.

  I cried out at the invasion, bucking against him.

  He didn’t bother to stop me from moving. He moved against me.

  We caught each other’s rhythm almost immediately, and it was bliss.

  He drove himself deep into me, filling me up everywhere, making me feel complete and good. And then he pulled away, almost all the way out before driving himself all the way back in again.

  I couldn’t keep myself from groaning and sighing my pleasure at his movement. I huffed and pumped my hips against his, gripping the counter, getting taken from behind in my own kitchen.

  His fingers snaked around my hips, down between my lips, to rub my clit.

  I cried out.

  Two seconds of his fingers there, and I came.

  It was quick and sharp, overtaking me and flooding me with white hot pleasure as I tipped into an ecstasy of clenches around his hard, huge cock.

  He chuckled again, his voice thick with pleasure. “Oh, I like that. You’re always wound so tight, coming apart under my fingers so easy.”

  But that was the thing. I didn’t usually come this easily. I mean, sure, maybe if I was having some quality time with my vibrator, I could speed things along if I needed to, but with guys, having sex… Well, I could count on my hand the number of times I’d had an orgasm during intercourse. I’d always thought I needed to trust the man I was with to open up like that, but here I was with Cade, and he seemed to be able to wring orgasms out of me almost against my will.

  “You’ll come for me again,” he said in a husky voice. “You’re so responsive to me that I think you’ll come when I tell you to.”

  Yeah, right. That happened in books, but not in real life. I mean, sure, everything with Cade felt sublime, absolute perfection. Sure each movement of his cock in my super-sensitive, freshly-climaxed pussy felt like I was edging on bliss. Sure…

  I dissolved into sensation, moaning as we moved together.

  “Man, you’re so wet and tight,” he sighed. He touched my clit again, just a quick little bump.

  Shudders went through me.

  “Mmm… just checking,” he said. “You’re very responsive.”

  “To you,” I choked out.

  “Really?”

  “You’re the only…” I gasped for air. “I’ve never felt anything like…”

  He grunted. “Damn it, Shell, that’s…” He quickened his pace in me. “You make me lose my… oh fuck.” He buried his face in my hair, clutching me with one hand. The other hand found my clit again. “It’s got to be now, love. I can’t hold on, so I need you to come for me again.”

  My pleasure surged suddenly, at his words.

  “Come for me, Shell,” he urged in a low voice.

  And damned if I didn’t, falling apart under his fingers and the battering of his cock, falling backwards into a sea of dark sweetness, the tide surging within my body again and again and again until I was nearly senseless.

  And I sagged against the counter. The only thing holding me up was his arms around me.

  And I felt him in me, emptying himself, surging and swelling as well.

  And everything surrounded me, and it was the most wonderful…

  * * *

  Cade

  I felt shattered, clinging to her like that. She was naked from the waist down, and I’d only managed to undo my fly. Still, even though I was mostly clothed, I didn’t feel I had the upper hand. I felt thoroughly affected, vulnerable, exposed. And yet, I liked it.

  It was a strange paradox, that I’d been in control of her, completely and utterly. She’d taken to it much easier than I had thought she would. Like she was made to submit to me. Like every order I gave her made her wetter and more pliant and more turned on. She’d been mine to do with as I pleased. She would have done whatever I asked, and she would have enjoyed it.

  And yet, I felt out of control now. As if taking her, topping her, had somehow made me exposed. Showing her that side of myself had opened a door into my deepest self, and now…

  We were both out of breath, both resting against the counter, trying to recover.

  She twisted in my arms. Her lips sought mine.

  I sunk my fingers into her hair, loosening her ponytail, and I kissed her hard.

  Her eager hands smooth over my chest, feeling my skin through my clothes.

  This was really happening. This girl—this very hot girl who let me fuck her just the way I liked it—knew what I was. She wasn’t running.

  How could that be?

  Well. She didn’t really know what I was. She knew I killed people for money, but she didn’t know how much I enjoyed killing. She didn’t understand that deep down, I was a monster.

  Once she figured that out, she’d
never let me touch her again.

  The thought brought a sour taste to my mouth.

  I let go of her, breaking the kiss, backing away. I didn’t know what I was thinking, anyway. What did I care? I wanted to fuck her. I’d fucked her. That was good enough. Now, all I had to do was get her sister back and teach Ice a lesson and all of this would be over.

  Her eyes were bright. “That was… wow.”

  I couldn’t help but grin at that.

  “I can’t believe you just…” She gave me a look, a raw look, full of just-fucked satisfaction, and I wanted to kiss her again. I wanted to unbutton her shirt and explore her entire body. I hadn’t really seen her tits yet.

  Hmm. Maybe fucking her once really wouldn’t be enough. I mean, I hadn’t really done it properly, had I? I didn’t know if I necessarily needed to tie her up, but I definitely wanted to see her completely naked. I wanted my mouth on her nipples.

  And she hadn’t sucked my cock yet. My grin widened, thinking about that.

  “Of course,” she said, “we really should have used a condom.”

  My jaw worked. Condoms. How had I forgotten about condoms? I never forgot about that. It was only that she’d said that shit to me—calling me Ripper—the name of my true self, my hidden self. I never told that name to women, and she’d invoked it, asking me to take her, and I’d lost my head for a minute. I’d never been so fucking turned on in my entire life.

  “You do that a lot?” She folded her arms over her chest. “Get a girl so distracted she doesn’t even think about protection?”

  “No,” I said. “I meant for us to… I have condoms.”

  “So do I,” she said.

  “I always use them,” I said. “And I get tested.”

  “I got tested before the wedding.”

  “Wedding?” I said.

  “Yeah, I was going to marry a gay guy, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.” I swallowed. “I remember that. So, I’m clean. You’re clean?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  “So, it’s not a big deal,” I said. “And next time, we’ll totally use one.”

  “Pretty sure there’s going to be a next time are you?”

  I lifted my chin. “Yeah, love, pretty sure.”

  She shook her head at me, and then turned back to the sink. She started rinsing dishes that she’d washed while we’d been messing around. “I, um, I stopped taking my birth control pills a while back,” she said without looking at me.

  I didn’t say anything.

  She still didn’t look at me. “I just thought I should… I mean the responsible thing is to say…”

  For fuck’s sake, the least I could have done was pull out, right? I could have come all over her pretty little ass, and it would have been hot as hell. But instead, I…

  She looked over her shoulder. “It’s really unlikely that… I mean, I heard that two healthy people who are having timed intercourse trying to have a baby usually can’t get pregnant for months.”

  I jammed my hands into my pockets. I didn’t want to think—

  Angie’s face flashed in front of me, holding out the plastic stick and making me look at it.

  What’s two lines mean?

  My nostrils flared. I turned and stalked out of the kitchen.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Shell

  I shouldn’t have said anything about the birth control pills. Really, it was so unlikely that anything was going to happen that it made absolutely no sense… And I wasn’t even during the time of my cycle that I was fertile.

  Wait. When had I had a period last?

  I didn’t think about that kind of thing anymore. Not since I wasn’t sexually active.

  Now, more than ever, it was completely pointless to take the pills.

  I’d gotten pretty frustrated with them. In college, I’d been on them all the time, and I’d just never known that anything could be different. I wasn’t promiscuous in college or anything. I dated around a little. I had a few random, drunken hookups. Basically, I was normal.

  And I thought that sex was pretty good.

  But then, after I graduated, I couldn’t get free birth control through the college clinic anymore, and I was still on my parents’ insurance, and I was too embarrassed to ask about it.

  So, I just stopped taking the pills.

  And holy hell, I had not realized what they were doing to me. Apparently, I was one of the unlucky women who was negatively affected by the hormones. When I was on birth control, I couldn’t get wet properly. Apparently, progesterone did that, and that was the hormone in the pills. Not being wet meant that all the sex I had in college was vaguely painful, and my sex drive was kind of muted anyway.

  Once the birth control pills were gone, my sex drive was different. And sex felt so much better.

  I tried going back on them when I first got together with Austin, thinking maybe that it had been the brand that I used before or something, but even on a really light hormone pill, it was the same.

  So, I asked him if he minded me not taking them, and he didn’t. Austin was really into the idea of kids once we got married, and he said we’d just use condoms until then. Not that Austin and I got busy that often.

  Another freaking sign I should have noticed.

  I felt wistful, because I had really liked the idea of having kids with Austin. We would have been good parents together, I just knew it.

  If I had gotten pregnant, by some miracle, this morning, I tried to picture having a kid with Cade.

  I snorted. Don’t worry, sweetie, Daddy will be home from killing someone in time for dinner.

  Well, there was no reason to worry. I wasn’t pregnant. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.

  I peered into the living room.

  Cade was standing at the window, looking out at the parking lot.

  “I’m sorry that I said anything,” I said. “We should really just forget about it. I mean, I’m sure that I won’t actually…” I couldn’t say the words “get pregnant” out loud.

  He didn’t turn around. He didn’t even acknowledge me.

  I waited. I didn’t understand this guy. He had been so into me a few minutes ago, totally consumed in trying to get me off and in making me feel good. And then he just switched the hell off. I guess he was freaked about the idea of being a dad or something.

  “You should know,” I said, “that I have this belief that a woman who’s financially stable should utterly bear the financial burden if she wants to have a kid and the father doesn’t. So, don’t think I would like sue you for child support or something. Not that I would maybe even have the baby.” I wrinkled my nose up. It was one thing to think about abortion when I was still practically a child myself. Now, though…

  He turned and looked at me, and his face was stone.

  “We shouldn’t think about it, anyway,” I said in a quiet voice. “It’s very unlikely.”

  “You said that,” he said softly.

  “Yeah.” I nodded.

  We were both quiet.

  “You want to take a shower?” I said. “I want to. You could go first if you want.”

  “Go ahead.” He turned back to the window.

  I’d been dismissed, hadn’t I? Shit, when we’d been together in the kitchen, I’d felt as if there was a bond being formed between us. Now, it was completely severed. He was closed down to me. Completely gone.

  It hurt.

  This was why I shouldn’t have had sex with him. I had this stupid tendency to fall for guys that I went to bed with. I didn’t mean to, but it happened a lot. It was the reason that there weren’t very many drunken hookups in my past. I always wanted them to turn into something more, and when they didn’t, I was devastated.

  Well, fuck him.

  Fuck all of it. The best thing to do now was simply to find Starling, make sure she was safe, and then get the hell away from Cade or Ripper or whoever the hell he was.

  I didn’t need this. No matter how good the sex was.


  * * *

  Cade

  Fuck all of it.

  I was an idiot. I knew that I was, and I couldn’t believe that I’d forgotten to put on a condom like that.

  And I hated hearing her babble on like that, her voice getting more and more tentative, because she had been so strong thus far. Even when she submitted to me in the kitchen, she did it consciously. I remembered how she had willfully refused to apologize sincerely, wanting me to punish her, and my cock stirred again.

  I looked down at my crotch.

  “Down boy,” I whispered. I had things I needed to think about. The most important one being how I was going to find Ice. We were running out of time. I assumed two days meant that today was the first day, and then tomorrow was the second day.

  But what if Ice was going to be an ass and interpret it as yesterday being day one and today being day two.

  If I found him, and Starling was already dead, then Shell was going to hate me forever.

  I thought of the way she’d turned away from me minutes before. Maybe she already hated me. I wouldn’t blame her.

  Honestly, I couldn’t figure out why she was letting me do anything with her at all.

  I threw myself down on the couch.

  Maybe there was something wrong with her.

  Maybe she was screwed up in the head, too, just like I was. Maybe she liked dangerous guys. Maybe that got her off. Maybe I wasn’t the first hit man she’d banged. Maybe she was a regular groupie, ready to spread her legs for anyone who had a gun.

  It didn’t seem like it, though.

  Honestly, her sexual history sounded kind of sad. The way she had described sex with the gay guy sounded pathetic, and she had hinted that she thought it was normal, which meant that she’d been having sex with straight guys that was really crappy too.

  Not that I liked thinking about her having sex with other men, I realized. I was already starting to feel possessive of her. Maybe it was because of the way she’d obeyed me, or the way she’d responded to me. Or maybe it was because the things out of her mouth had driven me out of my mind. She’d told me that she was different with me, that I made her the sexy little minx that she was, and that made me feel—

  Of course, it might all be calculated. Maybe she was making it up, even the bit about the birth control. Maybe she was playing me. Maybe, for her it was some kind of game.