She writhed beneath him as she rinsed her face. When done, she loudly caught her breath. His touch had spiked her heart rate, which he could feel in her chest. He reached over and put the plug in the drain, allowing the water to fill. Bubble bath went in next and the suds began to multiply. “Stay like that,” he commanded.
Then he stood up and exited the tub, leaving a glistening trail in his wake.
“You’re leaving?” she gasped.
He opened the cabinet and dug way deep for a toiletry bag he kept in the back. When he found what he searched for, he also grabbed a few towels, turned around and retraced his steps.
When he lowered himself between her legs again, he carefully wrapped one of the towels around her hair. “You can sit up, now.”
As she did, he thoroughly dried it then wrapped the towel around her neck. “Turn around.”
She looked over her shoulder, but not at him. “I thought you were going to do me from behind,” she said with a wobbly smile.
“When I ‘do you’ I want to see who I’m with.”
Her smile faded. With an air of uncertainty, she did as she was told.
“Look at me.”
Thick lashes moved upward, revealing the softer side of the IGP ghost he’d glimpsed earlier. Winged eyebrows were more prominent now and her cheeks were lined with tiny freckles. He took her face in his hands, skimmed his thumbs over them. Without the heavy liner, her light eyes were subtler, less spooky.
He leaned in, sampled the natural fullness of her lips. The kiss was slow at first, smoldering. Her breath quickened, sending him out of control, and he drove his tongue deep into her mouth. She tasted like sex. Looked like sex. Felt like sex. Every part of her aroused him to a new degree.
When she tried to climb on top, he wouldn’t allow it. She protested with a feline growl and tried it again.
“Crystal…”
They broke away panting. He flipped her over and pushed her back down to her hands and knees where he could maintain control over her. The towel slipped from her shoulders and he threw it over the side, grabbed the foil packet that was waiting close by.
A smile curved her lips. “Want me to put that on for you?”
He tore it open with his teeth. “That would require you to move.”
“Which you don’t want me to do.”
The foil was tossed to the floor. “Not a muscle.”
“Why?”
“If you could see yourself right now from my perspective,” he rasped, rolling the condom on, “you wouldn’t ask.”
He sat back on his heels and drew her up on his lap, the position forcing her legs further apart. “You’re so exposed this way,” he murmured huskily, channeling hot, soapy water over her sensitive flesh before exploring with his hands. “I can see all of you. How does that make you feel?”
She gasped when his thumb dove deep inside forbidden territory. “Different,” she breathed. “Pretty fucking good.”
Reaching over, he cut the water. Bubbles crackled around them as he guided his cock up and down the length of her, stroking. Slickened with her desire, he gripped her thighs, and slowly pushed through her tight opening.
Back arched, she cried out to the point he thought he’d hurt her. Mac instantly froze.
“Don’t stop,” she panted, clenching her inner muscles even tighter around him. “You feel incredible.”
Incredible… Enveloped in her core heat, he lost himself in their connection, savoring her words as well as her body. His chest heaved as he watched his head clear the pink lips of her sheath, then thrust inside again. They groaned together, completely in tune while he continued the slow pace. For the sake of longevity, he took his time.
She was such a small thing. In any other case, he’d fear breaking her, but he knew what she was. Knew she could take anything he gave her. So, when it felt right, he hooked her thighs and rose up to his knees, the angle allowing him to go deeper than before. She flattened a hand against the wall for stability while her fevered gasps became louder.
“Oh, God,” she cried as he picked up the pace, impaling her over and over again. Water sloshed over the sides. She opened wider for him allowing unrestricted entry. “Harder!”
With a savage smile, he obliged, his fingers digging into her flesh. The visual of her body taking him, reacting with the brunt force of his thrusts, drove his baser urges into uncharted territory. His efforts increased until his reasons for coupling with such ferocity became murky. Was he punishing her for the torture he endured earlier that night or was he thanking her for saving him?
Water lapped beneath the pulverized layer of bubbles. His hand cracked over her ass, eliciting a gasp of surprise from her that came with a smile.
“Do it again!” she growled fiercely.
“Come on, Crystal,” he commanded through gritted teeth, giving her what she wanted. “Come for me.”
The moment he said the words, her body constricted around him, pulled and pulsated as she screamed out her orgasm. The sound was music to his ears.
Tightening his hold around her thighs, he finally let himself go and drilled her with his first wave of release. Pleasure of a new magnitude rocked him backward, pulling from deep within the center of his body and stretching through all four limbs. He rode each lasting sensation for what seemed an eternity; each tug of release draining more and more frustration from his soul until all that remained was deep sated satisfaction.
His movements slowed as he savored the feel, unwilling to let it end. Before his heart could steady, he pulled her up into his arms. They sat that way for a while, she on his lap, still joined while the water cooled around them.
“Holy shit,” she breathed. “I think you found my diaphragm in there.”
He caught his breath while he hugged her close. “You said harder.”
Her hand curled around his head and she gave him a pat. “And, I think you enjoyed that spanking a little too much.”
“Lady, you have no idea.”
“Oh!” She turned in his arms with a laugh on her lips, kissed him hard. Mac kissed her back without reservation, without limits. It had been a long time since he’d felt this free, but before the thought could take root he cleared it from his mind. Instead, he adjusted his position, relaxed against the wall at his back while she lazed against him. A handful of recuperative minutes went by as he idly explored her body.
“How’s your shoulder?” he finally asked.
“I’ve forgotten all about it,” she answered tiredly. “Thank you for that.”
Those last four words seemed ludicrous considering the fact he’d gleaned as much pleasure from their raucous round of sex as she had. “You’re a beautiful woman, Crystal.” He skimmed the backs of his fingers along the soft outer edges of her breasts. “Much more so without all the makeup.”
Her eyes opened. “You think so?”
“I love your freckles.” They added a wholesome, down-to-earth quality to her face.
A small frown. “I used to hate them.”
Ah, finally some insight into the person she used to be. Ever since he’d learned of her, Mac wondered about Rena’s little sister. “Why?” He pulled her closer.
She combed fingers through the dark brown tresses at her forehead. “Rena. She was always so perfect. Got her looks from our father. He had the shiny black hair and the clear skin and the height.”
There wasn’t a thing wrong with Crystal’s hair, skin or height. “Tell me that’s not why you resent her,” Mac said with lowered brow.
No response.
He nudged her. “Tell me.”
“Haven’t you seen enough already?” she griped.
“Not by a long shot. The more I find out about you, the more I want to know.”
Her elbow dug into his midsection. “Just because we fucked doesn’t mean you get to grill me.”
Mac was suddenly confronted with the same words he’d flung at her earlier, before the Lesico debacle. He got it, knew she was making a point, but i
t didn’t mean he had to like it.
Crystal must have sensed his consternation because she turned in his arms and straddled him, chewed her bottom lip for a moment. “Tell you what. I’ll share more about myself if you reciprocate.”
His eyes narrowed. It wasn’t like he was the mysterious one.
“You made me wash my face so you could see the real me,” she continued when he didn’t reply. “I want the same from you.”
Mac reached up, moved a wet tendril of bangs from her lashes. “I haven’t worn mascara since Halloween of 1992.”
Her laughter echoed off the tile. God, that smile, that sound… With the pink, earthy colors of her face, Mac saw no traces of the black, threatening figure he’d tackled to the floor when they first met.
She stood up, towered over him as water flowed down her lean legs. “Do you trust me?”
Those words always spelled impending trouble. His look turned wary. “No.”
Her smile indicated it was the answer she wanted. When she left the tub, he was faced with his lingering handprint on her firm white buttock. Goose bumps blanketed his skin as the warmth from her body was replaced with cooled water.
Moments later, she straddled him again with a large cup, his razor and a can of shaving cream. A portion of it slurped out onto the tips of her fingers.
“Go like this,” she said, drawing down her upper lip.
Mac suddenly felt very juvenile. “I don’t want you to shave my stache.”
“But, I want to see the real you. It’s only fair.” When he still balked, she rolled her eyes. “If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back.”
True. And as a bonus, her big, beautiful breasts would remain close by to offer comfort should he let her perform the deed. Unable to resist their lure, he leaned in, took a rosy nipple into his mouth and rolled his tongue over it in soft, lazy strokes. Her breath hitched and the nub tightened between his teeth, prompting him to suckle harder. If he could stay there forever, it wouldn’t be long enough.
“Not so fast,” she said, a husky timbre to her voice as she pulled her breast away. “These babies are all yours…” Her mouth hung open, lingering over the unspoken ultimatum.
Mmm. Nothing like the promise of desert to weaken his resolve. He felt played, but in a very non-threatening, satisfactory way. This was by far the weirdest sexual adventure he’d ever been on. But if submitting to her will bought him a lasting ticket to boob heaven, why the hell not?
She repeated, “Now, go like this.”
Her demonstration almost made him laugh. She was so cute, and her deep look of concentration when she coated his upper lip with shave gel made him want to kiss that curvy mouth.
In a lingering, exploratory way that would curl her toes.
When she came at him with the razor, his head reared back, thumped against the wall.
Her eyes reflected a warning. “Be still.”
But, his ingrained sense of preservation was making it impossible. “Have you done this before?”
Impatience was replaced with a sympathetic cringe. “Actually… no. But, I promise, the only reason I’ll draw blood is because you move when you shouldn’t.”
The razor descended again. Mac looked up at the ceiling as it scraped downward, the sound of severing whiskers throwing static through his head. She worked carefully, cleaning the razor in the cup of water she held beneath his chin, tapping off the excess. Her strokes were short and smooth, like an artist feathering an image onto paper.
When she was finally done, she rinsed the razor for the last time and beamed in satisfaction. She set the cup down on the floor, grabbed the towel and wiped his face clean with a dry corner. It felt weird, something actually coming in contact with the skin above his mouth. He’d worn that mustache for a long time.
“You look much better without it,” she said in a soothing tone, as if she knew he already missed it. Her finger came up and traced the small scar below and to the right of his nose. “You weren’t hiding this, were you?”
Mac had almost forgotten all about it. “Maybe at first,” he admitted.
“How did you get it?”
Absently, he touched it himself to remember. “I guess you could say I was shot.”
Her mouth opened but nothing came out.
“Combat pistol training,” he clarified. “A round ricocheted off the target and broke into pieces. The core penetrated my upper lip.”
Crystal’s eyes widened with the revelation. “So, I was right. You were military.”
Not that he’d meant to go there, but she’d snuck the subject in under the radar without even knowing it.
The water was cooled, suds were gone, the time growing closer to sunrise. He leaned in and kissed her slowly. “I can feel your breath on my face now,” he murmured, giving her a small win. “It’s nice. But we should try and get some sleep.”
A general air of disappointment surrounded her as she moved off his lap. “So much for sharing,” she murmured under her breath.
When Mac closed the door behind him, giving her the privacy she requested, Crystal moved her shoulder and decided the patch job had held through all the activity. As the tub drained, she wrapped the towel around her body, studied the small bathroom.
Besides the mess they left, there wasn’t much evidence a man used it. Or a woman, for that matter. DJ’s things took up every inch of space. The colorful toys and panda linens added a charm to the dated fixtures that could never be matched by a designer bath in her book.
Damn. She’d trade anything for this.
“Crystal?”
Mac’s voice through the closed door prompted her to look at her reflection in the mirror. She combed fingers through her bangs, slicked them back. “Yeah?”
“Just checking.”
Naturally. He didn’t trust that she wouldn’t disappear again, but Crystal had no desire to be anywhere else. Mac Truck had just proved what she’d suspected all along. Beneath the scowl, the barreled chest and the master-of-doom façade… he was the key to her survival. The ominous, questionable world outside the basement bedroom she’d lived in for three years wasn’t what she feared would destroy her. It was the monster that lurked within. The person she’d become that loved the dark side more than the light, which didn’t want to lose the edge she held over the common man. To let that go would mean facing Elsa, the person she’d abandoned… and finding no justification for doing so.
But, Mac made her feel not so alone. If he didn’t like her, he at least desired her… and seemed to appreciate his rare glimpse of the woman beneath the mask.
Face devoid of makeup, forehead exposed, Crystal visualized the pair of wire-rimmed glasses that used to rest upon the bridge of her nose. Elsa had been a mousy little thing whose only chance at getting noticed was to ride her beloved sister’s coattails. She’d worshiped Rena, used her as an example for everything she aspired to be.
Disgust stormed her senses as it always did when she thought of those wasted years. Baring her teeth, Crystal stopped just short of ramming her balled fist into the mirror.
No. She wasn’t ready to face Elsa yet. The people she loved, the dreams she’d made, the future she could have had… it was all ripped away when Rena decided to abandon them all.
With firm resolve, Crystal willed her eyes to remain dry. She would not become a basket case, not now or ever again.
A few minutes later, she left Melanie’s bedroom in an oversized T-shirt and satin panties. Mac had settled down on the hide-a-bed again, in his sweatpants, staring at the ceiling in the dim light over the stovetop. She lifted the sheet, slithered right in.
As she curled up on her side, she blindly reached behind her, found his arm and drew it around her middle. “I need you to keep the boogeymen away tonight.”
Four silent, questionable seconds ticked by, then Mac tightened his arm, drew her in closer. His big body was so warm, so solid as it fitted against her backside. Crystal sighed deeply, lifted her head so his other arm could slip in under
neath it. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this safe before,” she murmured, snuggling deeper against him.
Other noises, from the humming air conditioner to the choleric wind blowing outside, faded right away. The TV in the apartment upstairs had been shut off. No traffic rushed by outside. All was finally quiet in Crystal’s world… in the circle of Mac’s arms. But, her eyes still wouldn’t close.
“How is your shoulder?”
“I don’t feel it,” she answered honestly, her voice a foreign, tiny noise. “Quit worrying.”
“How about your head?”
What? Nothing happened to her head. “I’m good, Mac. Right now I’m good.”
When the pillow dipped behind her, she realized he’d been studying her.
“Close your eyes,” he commanded.
The man was getting really comfortable giving her orders. “Why?”
“Just do it. Tell me what you see.”
At first she didn’t want to, knew what would loom behind that awful curtain of pitch black. Sure enough, when she finally braved it, the picture was so clear she could practically smell the blood. “Domino.”
“Who’s Domino?”
“The dead bastard who tried to bury his blade in my back.”
Mac’s chest hummed against her as he spoke. “Why do you see his face out of the four men you killed?”
“I guess it’s because I knew him better.” The ghost with the twinkly eyes was always trying to charm his way into her pants. It had become a harmless game… until they were forced to choose between friendship and duty. So much for romance.
“When a choice like that comes along,” Mac said, “justification doesn’t mean squat.”
Had he read her mind? And how the hell would he know? “I was justified.”
“Right. It’s easy to say, but your head won’t know it for a long time.”
It sounded as if he sympathized with her on a personal level. “How long?”
“Depends on you.”
Well, that didn’t help much. She moved her cheek against his bicep. “How long was it for you?”
She almost thought he wouldn’t answer, but when he did it was a confirmation of something she already knew.
Crystal Mac: A prologue novella to Captive Series Book 3 HELL'S HILLTOP Page 6
