Someone banged on the door, startling us. Rena slipped out from beneath me, pulling her pants up in one swift motion. I caught a glimpse of pale, plump thighs. No stick legs on her. My raging erection approved.
“What?” I yelled at the panel, peering through a space in the disheveled blinds. One of the servers, Melinda, was on the other side.
Her forehead crinkled. “I need change for a hundred.” She pressed the bill against the glass and I brushed the blinds into place, hiding her from view.
Rena was frantically stuffing her shirt into her pants and redressing. When she moved for the door, I stopped her with a hand around her upper arm. She couldn’t go out into the kitchen looking like she did. She looked—God—beautiful. But also like she’d been slammed against a door and nearly brought to orgasm by her boss. That wasn’t good.
Well, it was good, but everyone finding out was not good.
I glanced at the blinds again. The staff needed to believe we’d argued. And Rena and I had to sell it. I bet her big brown eyes only ever told the truth.
She needed to believe I was still angry despite of what just happened. Which meant I’d have to lay it on thick.
Pointing at her, I lifted my voice so it would carry through the door. “You ever pull a stunt like you did tonight, and I’ll fire your ass. I don’t give a shit how privileged you think you are; you have a job to do, and while you’re on the clock, I expect you to do it.”
Rena’s eyes filled first with confusion, then glittered with a thin sheen of anger or the beginning of tears. Perfect. That was what everyone needed to see. I kept the scowl on my face as she reached past me and pulled open the door.
A small audience of five had gathered. Their looks of shock were priceless. Before Rena made it over the threshold, I said her name.
She spun around, the hurt on her face so prevalent my heart lurched for a split second. I could explain later, but for now, I needed her pissed.
“Forget something?” I pointed at her apron on the floor by my feet.
She knelt and snatched it up, then split the crowd like a bowling ball into pins. I gestured for Melinda to come to me and snatched the hundred-dollar bill out of her hand. Kneeling, I spun the safe and pulled it open and counted out smaller bills to make change for her.
“She’s different, isn’t she?” I could hear Melinda’s disapproving sneer over my shoulder.
She meant Rena, and she was right. Rena was different. But Melinda meant it as an insult, and I was nothing short of intrigued. Different wasn’t something I thought I needed. Until now.
I decided to go to her when I was done here. Four hours later, I found myself on her stoop, banging on her front door.
Chapter 8
Rena
Snow started to fall a little after midnight. The television was tuned in to some random sitcom, the canned laughter keeping me company while I sketched. I didn’t sketch Devlin. I hated him too much.
Not for yelling at me, which I knew was for the sake of the servers loitering outside the door, but because he’d had my pants halfway off inside of a minute, and I didn’t feel the least bit ashamed. Maybe I was mad at myself.
With my ring finger, I shaded the edge of the beer bottle I’d just drawn, considering. Would I have had sex with him in that office?
Yes. I would have. I’d have let him feed my clothes into a shredder if there’d been one large enough to do the job. My reaction scared me. Because I was supposed to be angry with him, and I was supposed to be loyal to Joshua.
I know how stupid that sounds. How can you be loyal to someone who’s not living? But that had been my coping mechanism—my psychologist’s words—since Joshua passed away. If I believed I still belonged to him monogamously, I’d stay out of harm’s way.
But after four and a half years of staying out of harm’s way, I’d apparently developed a fondness for harm. Nothing about Devlin was safe. I wanted to prove, if only to myself, that I was the same girl who pushed Joshua into his first alcoholic drink. I was the one who talked him into sex the first time. It was me who coerced him into skipping church to go down on me in the county fair parking lot.
I liked that girl. Once upon a time, I’d embraced her.
But then he died a saint—struck down by a drunk driver—and I became a saint by proxy. I was in that car. I saw the accident happen. Lightning fast, and yes, I was drunk, but I saw Joshua not looking at the road. Had he been looking, he may have seen the car run the stop sign. He hadn’t. He hadn’t been looking because he’d been arguing with me. My last words to him—the last words I ever spoke to him were heated from the argument we’d been having. They echoed in my mind now. Look at me, Joshua.
Then he had.
Pounding at my door made me jump and my pencil jerked on the paper, drawing a harsh line over my careful shading. Irritated, I threw down my sketchpad, reached for the remote to mute the TV, and stood from the couch. Who the hell…? Tash, I guessed. By the sound of the knock she wasn’t happy. She and Tony probably had a fight and she had come here to complain. I’d have to refrain from saying I told her s—
Door open, I froze when it revealed Devlin instead of my crying best friend. Snow decorated his hair, and a thick gray-blue knit scarf was wrapped around his neck and tucked into a leather jacket zipped halfway up. His bruised face, his wide form, his battered jeans…every inch of him looked amazing.
He watched me and I watched him as the seconds passed.
Visible breaths left his lips. My face chilled in the elements coming through my open door. Stubbornly, I lifted my chin and cocked an eyebrow, daring him. To do what, I had no idea.
Turned out I didn’t have to explain.
He rushed me, one hand landing on the side of my neck, the other on my waist. He smelled like the cold and some sort of liquor. Whisky, maybe. I only ever drank light beer, so I wasn’t sure.
His tongue slipped into my mouth, tasting sweet and warm, and swept against mine as I wrenched the scarf from his neck and worked the coat from his shoulders. He’d come to me. I could hardly believe it. I heard his boot kick the bottom of the door until it clicked, and we were shut into my apartment.
He pulled at the band holding my ponytail, yanking it free and a few hairs with it. The biting pain in my scalp felt almost good. Because he caused it. This didn’t bother me. Nothing about this bothered me.
His mouth left mine and his teeth raked against my lips and jaw, then bit at the side of my neck before sucking my skin and soothing the phantom pain with his mouth. He backed me into the dark hallway, pressing my back to the wall with the length of his hard body.
His erection pushed on my belly and I reached for him, wedging my hand between the scant bit of space separating my soft cotton shirt and his worn denim. His hands dug under my shirt, electrifying my skin with his touch. When he found my breasts free, he pinched one of my nipples hard enough to make me cry out. He muzzled the sound with his mouth, and the sensation of his hot, wet tongue on mine spun my head. Righted my wrongs. Buried my skeletons.
Is that what Devlin was to me? Some sort of liberator? In a way, he’d liberated me already. I was alive and aware, and for the first time in years, I realized I hadn’t died alongside Joshua.
One of Devlin’s hands left my breasts and thrust into my yoga pants. His cool fingers moved beneath my cotton panties and slid over my center. I was wet. So wet, I would have been embarrassed if I wasn’t so turned on.
Or if he didn’t say, in an almost reverent tone, “You’ve been making me crazy for a week.”
He thrust a finger deep inside me, and when my mouth fell open, he kissed me, the seductive slide of his tongue against mine making me even wetter against his hand.
“I told you I was what you liked.” His voice was as raw as his method. Being wanted, feeling wanted after being closed off and hunkering down, felt better than I could have imagined.
And, oh, I’d imagined.
Another finger entered me, and my knees buckled. I braced my
lower back against the wall to keep from sliding to the floor. Like I’d confessed to him at work tonight, I’d never been taken against a door. I’d never been taken like this. Never. And I would swear on a stack of Bibles that this—his touch; our frantic, sloppy pairing—was exactly what every cell in my body needed.
“Take off your shirt and show me those beautiful nipples.” He slipped his fingers from my body but continued to move over me sensually while my mind hummed and my body buzzed. I reached for the hem of my shirt as his fingertips danced over my folds, making me see lights where there were none.
So good.
So bad, but so good.
Freed from my shirt, I dropped it at his feet. A nanosecond later, he ravished my breasts. His teeth snagged, his jaw raked. His touch hurt but satisfied at the same time. Gentle would have reminded me of Joshua, of the girl I no longer wanted to be. But Devlin, no…Devlin wasn’t gentle. His fingers quickened their maddening pace, then plunged deep as his thumb played my clit. An orgasm and a scream of release built in my throat.
His mouth left my nipple to swallow my cries, but he kept the pace of his expert fingers until I crumpled against him. Wordlessly, I begged into his mouth, bleating for him to stop because I couldn’t take any more…couldn’t take it…and then I felt my release, pounding out a rhythm, and my body clutched his.
A few ragged breaths later, the fireworks fizzled from behind my eyes, the pulsing between my legs becoming less frantic. I opened my lids and surveyed the man in front of me. Devlin had one knee between my legs and was holding me up with it. My knees had given after all, I realized. He had my breast in his hand and a contented smile on his face, and I thought he might be the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen in my life.
Forcing strength into my limbs, I stood. When he straightened with me, I pawed at his shirt. He let me strip him, helping haul the long-sleeved knit over his head when I couldn’t reach any higher than his shoulders. With his arms raised, I got a good look at the tattoo I’d caught a glimpse of the night he’d showed up at my house, bleeding and battered. An artistic number 7, shaded black, rested just above his armpit. I wondered what it meant but knew better than ask.
He put his arms down and I ran a hand up his chest, admiring two flat brown nipples against his near-flawless skin. I smoothed my palm over his rounded pecs dusted with dark hair, and along a small silver scar next to his collarbone. I followed the trail of hair to his abdomen and stuck a finger into his belly button, watching when his abs flexed, each line and dent begging for my tongue to taste. His body was a perfect combination of sinew and muscle.
Hands splayed over his chest, I darted my tongue out to wet first one nipple, then the other. He tasted clean, smelled like soap, and I inhaled him as I dragged my fingers down to unsnap his jeans. When I pulled down his zipper, his hot length fell into my hand. No underwear. I should’ve known.
I looked.
Just looked and looked and looked.
Joshua had been…well. He’d been seventeen. We both had. Now that I saw what Devlin was packing, I realized my high school boyfriend had done little to prepare me for this.
Devlin’s penis was both wide and long, jutting upright from his body, his erection straight and proud. A symbol that there was no shame in what we were doing. There’d been no talk of love or promises; of not going too fast. There’d been no preamble, no “touch me there for ten seconds” or “just kiss the tip.” There was only him. Only me. Only whatever we wanted in this space and time.
And I wanted him.
“Turn around.”
At the sound of his voice, I stopped staring and lifted my head.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. His lips flinched, almost a smile as he looked down at me. “I made you a promise earlier.”
I remembered. We’d fulfilled one of his “promises.” Now onto the other.
Have you ever been taken from behind?
Joshua had always insisted we look at each other, hold hands, and intertwine our fingers like they did in the movies. Do it in a bed. Never in the car. Never on the couch. Never in the hallway.
So far, Devlin hadn’t been careful with me at all. He wasn’t going to ease me into our first time. He was going to push me up against this wall and…and…take me. My pulse kicked into high gear. I wasn’t sure if he intimidated or intrigued me. Maybe both in equal measure.
He didn’t wait for my answer, launching his tongue into my mouth, robbing me of breath. His face blotted out my peripheral vision. All I could see was him. His fingers pinched my nipples almost too hard, deleting the thoughts swarming my brain. I whimpered and he eased off. I grabbed his cock with both hands and wondered what he might feel like inside of me.
Huge, I imagined. I swallowed, trepidation quaking my limbs.
“I’m…” But before I finished speaking, his fingers entered me again.
Devlin
Rena was so wet. When I slipped past her silky folds, my dick pulsed in time with my heartbeat.
She was also nervous. Maybe even a little afraid. But not of me. Not with the hold she had on me, or the bold way she’d stripped me of my shirt. No, her fear was more of her reaction to me.
Again a thought niggled about how she was different from any other girl who’d ever shed her clothes for me. Just when I thought I might go easy on her, the hand she’d moved to my biceps tensed, the one wrapped around my shaft squeezed, making me grind my back teeth together.
Tension ebbed off her, like she’d stiffened every muscle in her body. Her reaction served as a reminder that a quick bang against the wall wasn’t typically her style. I wanted to know how far she’d allow me to take her. Already she was proving to be a girl I couldn’t scare away. Not that I was testing her.
Or was I?
Curious about every inch of her, I slipped my fingers from her core and gripped her hips, turning her to face the wall. She went willingly, putting her hands on either side of her head like she was under arrest.
Cute, but not what I was going for. Leaving her spread before me, I untied and kicked off my boots, keeping my eyes on her the entire time. Her pale nude back. The way her silken hair tumbled over her skin. She was too, too gorgeous waiting against the wall for me to come to her. I slipped my jeans off my legs as quickly as I could, then stood behind her, naked. Now to get her the same way.
I gripped the waist of her stretchy black pants and panties and eased them over her hips, revealing her smooth, round ass in all its glory. She was slim but curvy, her waist nipped in, her spine a perfect straight line; a shadowed dent along the middle of her back. I pulled her pants down and lifted one of her feet, then the other, before tossing her pants on top of my jeans.
Closing my hand around one of her wrists, I lifted her arm over her head and watched as her back rose and fell with her quickening breaths. I moved her other wrist to join that one, pinning both hands to the wall as I shoved her dark hair aside. With my fingertips, I drew a line down the center of her back then followed the path to her bare ass, where I skimmed my fingers between her cheeks and watched them clench. My mind whispered the words beautiful, exquisite, amazing. I said none of them. Compliments weren’t exactly my forte.
Next I slipped my fingers between her legs and groaned, pleased when I found her soaked. She was absolutely soaked for me. I loved it.
I inserted first one finger and then the other, enjoying the feel of her almost as much as I enjoyed watching her ass lift and her body writhe while I held her captive. Her movements were slow and languid, and she didn’t resist my hold on her wrists at first. When she did fight me, I tightened my grip and she stilled. Giving in. I liked that.
I kissed her back, first a soft press of my lips against her spine, then higher, and higher still. Covering her with my body from chest to balls, I licked and kissed the back of her neck, listening to her clipped exhalations. Something about the way she reacted to me hinted that we were kindred spirits. Impossible. She was Red Riding Hood to my Big Bad Wolf.
Ye
t I found myself loosening my hold on her wrists, sliding my body along hers slowly as I touched her. I wanted to please her. Not so she’d please me. Just because I wanted to see her shatter.
Between her legs, I replaced my fingers with the head of my dick, dipping into her wetness, then out, sliding in just a little. I didn’t get farther than her entrance when she made the cutest squeaking sound, tightening my stomach and making me even harder. Who knew I could get harder?
Gritting my teeth through the pleasant pain, I released her hands, granting her free rein.
“Okay?” I whispered against her ear. Keeping her arms overhead, she nodded, her face pressed to the wall. I gripped her hips with both hands and knelt for better access. She was so wet, so hot, I ached to drive into her and relieve the pressure continuing to build, but I forced myself to use my brain rather than my throbbing penis for a moment.
Condom.
There was a handy thought.
“Don’t move,” I instructed, backing away from her and regretting it instantly. How had I come to miss her warmth already? I snatched my pants and rifled through my wallet until I found one of the condoms I’d wedged in there last month. A whole month since I’d been laid. Not my longest stint, but pretty damn long. I rolled on the latex, musing how when I’d put protection in my wallet, I’d never imagined Rena. No part of me could have dreamed I’d encounter so much sweetness. Some of her hair had fallen over her back and I pushed it aside again. So much softness. I slid my hand down her back. So much trust. I drew my palm back and laid a sharp slap against her butt cheek.
“Oh!” She pulled her arms down and pushed on the wall, sliding me the sexiest gaze over her shoulder.
I couldn’t help grinning.
“What are you waiting for?” Her sultry voice dragged me in. I crushed my body against hers, savoring the small chuckle that sounded in her throat.
I licked her ear, then bit it lightly. My good girl was bad. Or maybe she was bad only with me, which made my chest swell with pride. “Ready?”
Fighting for Devlin (Lost Boys #1) Page 8
