His Hellcat (Sassy Girls Book 1)

by Rory Reynolds

  I can’t pinpoint the exact moment things changed. It was like I just woke up one day and the spark wasn’t there anymore. Everything I did, I asked myself if Shane would approve. Would he like this dress? Is my lipstick too red? Not red enough?

  You’d be amazed at how many shades of red lipstick there are. When the brand I’d been using forever discontinued Red Velvet, it took me thirty tubes of lipstick and a few thousand tears before I found one that Shane approved of.

  I don’t even like lipstick. I’ve always been a Chapstick kind of girl. That’s how far down the rabbit hole I fell.

  Everything I did, every word out of my mouth, every stitch of clothing I wore, even my friends, were all picked with one thing in mind—pleasing Shane. I became some kind of Stepford wife and I hate myself for it. I guess I should be thankful to Margo, she gave me the bitch slap I needed to wake the fuck up and get the hell out. Her betrayal stings, but now that the shock of seeing them together like that is fading, I’m not really surprised.

  And how sad is that?

  Strong fingers flex around my wrist and hard plains of muscles graze my nipples, bringing me back to the here and now as Hutch makes another try for the rag. The playfulness of the moment is refreshing, but it’s the flair of sexual excitement that keeps me fighting a losing battle. At this point, I’d do just about anything to keep our bodies glued together.

  Rising up to my tiptoes I do my best to stretch my arm with the rag as far away from Hutch’s long reach as I can. The attempt is laughable considering the extreme height disadvantage I have, not to mention the fact that I am considered plump while he is the epitome of athletic sex god.

  His big, hard body pressed against my soft curves causes my brain to short circuit and I’m about three seconds from ripping this robe off, climbing up his body, and humping his face. Before my over-emotional, under-sexed, hormone-fueled body can do something rash— like fuck my twin’s best friend after knowing him for all of an hour—I decide it’s time to play dirty.

  I bite him.

  Hard.

  “Ow, what the fuck!” He roars as he jumps away from me rubbing his hand over his chest where I bit him. “Your brother was right. You are an evil little thing.”

  I can’t hide my satisfied smile as I turn to the sink and start washing the dishes. “You could always dry.”

  He grunts some kind of acceptance and rummages around for a towel. We make quick work of the dishes each of us lost to our own thoughts. I would like to admit that I’m thinking about my next steps, figuring out what my plan is going to be when I return home. At least my job isn’t a concern. Being the boss is nice like that. Plus, once I have access to the internet and a computer, I can work anywhere. But instead of any of that, I’m thinking about the hot piece of man meat beside me and why I’m taking every single opportunity to brush against him.

  I’m horrible, I know. I shouldn’t, but I just can’t help myself. He is everything my body craves regardless of how wrong it is. It’s like one touch and my body has come alive again. I’ve been numb for so long, I forgot what it’s like to really feel and right or wrong, I know Hutch is capable of making me feel. I came here to escape—to regroup and heal—maybe fate brought us both here for the same purpose. Maybe we can help each other heal or maybe I’m delusional because there is no way this man would want a hot mess like me.

  Hell, I wouldn’t want a hot mess like me and I really don’t know what brought Hutch all the way out here. No matter what scars he carried here to recover from, he's still every bit sexy Adonis and I'm every bit the girl who had her fiancé cheat on her with her super model pretty best friend. I need to get my stupid hormones in check and maybe worry about being alone in this remote place with a man I just met. I can't find even an ounce of worry or fear. In fact, I feel safe—protected.

  More than that I trust my brother’s judgement. Drake would never befriend a bad guy. In fact, without even meeting the douche canoe, he knew that he didn’t like him. He spoke to Shane on the phone for about ten seconds early on in our relationship and when I got to the phone my brother instantly said, ‘Who’s the little prick? I don’t like him.’

  If I could rewind time and actually listen to my stupid, know-it-all brother, I would since it would save me years of not feeling good enough and now this mess. A part of me deep down knew this would happen. Knew that I should listen to Drake, but being stubborn is my specialty and I’ve been trying to prove my twin wrong since the day we were born.

  I should’ve trusted him back then. I won’t make that mistake again. My brother trusts Hutch explicitly and so will I.

  4

  Hutch

  I can’t believe the little vixen bit me. I look down at her while she robotically goes through the motions of washing the dishes. She’s clearly lost in thought and I can’t help wondering if she’s thinking about this insane chemistry between us. Every time her arm innocently brushes against mine, my cock aches. Images of falling to my knees and burying my face between her legs and eating her until she screams, then bending her over the counter and plunging my length into her pussy fill my head. I can almost taste how sweet she'd be. How perfect her little cunt would feel wrapped around me. This chick is going to be the death of my self-control.

  “Want a beer?”

  Her nose wrinkles up in disgust, as she shakes her head. “No way, that shit tastes like cat piss.”

  “Have you tested this theory?”

  Her eyebrows shoot to her hairline and that look of fire is back in her eyes. Fuck me. That little bit of defiance in her gaze turns me on like nothing else could. Another wave of desire burns through my veins and I want nothing more than to push her against the wall, rip my robe from her pale skin, and sink my dick so far into her pussy she can taste it.

  Jesus, get a handle on yourself.

  “You’re such an ass. Of course I haven’t, but it smells worse than a dirty litter box so I can only imagine it tastes as bad.”

  “Fuck you’re sexy when you’re being feisty.”

  She puts her hands on her hips before giving me her version of the ‘eat shit and die’ face. I’m not exactly sure how we went from playful banter to my fearing the fact that there is a whole drawer full of knives within her reach. But instinct has my hands falling in front of my dick, just in case she decides to pull a Bobbitt.

  Smooth Hutchinson, real smooth.

  Blake's teasing expression falls from her face and is replaced with a look of consternation. Her eyes roam over my body, not in desire, but as if she's trying to figure out a puzzle. A few uncomfortably silent seconds and she's moved from an angry stance to one of unease. She tugs the lapels of the robe closed and keeps her arms wrapped tightly around herself. I wait her out because I know she's working up to something, but what comes out of her mouth throws me for a loop.

  “Look, let’s just cut to the chase here. I know we aren’t even in the same league as each other. So do me a favor and don’t act like there is even a possibility that you’re going to fall into bed with me.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but she silences me with a death glare and one of those finger-wags my mama used to scold the dog with. The vulnerability she was showing earlier is now eclipsed with anger.

  “Don’t. Just don’t, Hutch. I get it. I do. You see a damsel in distress and you instantly go into rescue mode. Well, I’m no damsel. I don’t need saving. You’re off the hook. The homely kid sister of your best friend doesn’t need you to stroke her ego and make her feel better.”

  I make a half-hearted attempt to interrupt her ridiculous speech, but the look in her eyes warns me off. When she’s finished with her little speech, she storms off toward the bedrooms. The door opens and then slams so hard behind her, I worry the cabin might fall down around us. What the fuck just happened here?

  Homely kid sister? Seriously, has she even seen herself? I was pretty clear when I told her she was beautiful. I thought she understood that as truth.

  “Jesus, it’s not ju
st her ego that needs stroked.” I think out loud, as I reach down and adjust my cock so my zipper doesn’t do permanent damage to my favorite appendage.

  I consider going to her, but she's obviously hurting and I'm not thinking very clearly. Her words run in a loop around my mind and I could kick my own ass for making her uncomfortable. She just came out of a terrible relationship and is still raw from the things her ex put her through. I’m such a dumbass. Running a frustrated hand through my hair, cussing my dick and its lack of control, I decide a shower is in order.

  The water is ice cold when I get under its punishing spray. Each stream of water stabs at my flesh, but even the frigid temperature isn’t enough to dispel my hard on. Flicking on the hot water, I groan as the warmth seeps into my bones. I make quick work of washing, but when my soapy hand wraps around my cock, I can’t keep the image out of my head of Blake’s peaches and cream skin playing peek-a-boo from underneath my robe.

  I pump my hand up and down my turgid length slowly as I imagine the heat of her slick cunt as I fuck her from behind. The way the delicious globes of her ass would soften the quick flicks of my hips. The way she would moan my name as I pinch her nipple between my fingers. How she would scream as she comes around my cock while my fingers rub teasing circles around her sensitive clit, drawing out her pleasure. I'd pull out and lick her soft pussy through her orgasm, drinking down every drop, then I'd ride her hard with the taste of her release on my lips until I fill her with my cum.

  My hips buck into my fist while thoughts of devouring Blake have my balls clenching and the heat of release tingling down my spine. Finally, I trip over my release when I imagine that smart little mouth of hers wrapped around my dick. The thought of releasing down her throat while I fist her hair drives me to fuck my fist harder as jets of cum shoot from my cock onto the shower floor.

  I’m so fucked.

  After my not so relaxing shower that did nothing to dampen my desire for the curvy little hellcat, I do a quick walk through of the cabin. Checking windows and locking doors. Even though I know there is nothing around for miles and the likelihood of any trouble finding its way here is slim to none, I can't relax until I know things are secure. Once I'm satisfied, I head to bed, pausing briefly outside Blake's door taking in the sounds of rustling sheets and crying.

  Everything inside me demands I go to her. Something primal has risen up inside me and I feel irrevocably responsible for her happiness. I want to wrap her in my arms and protect her from every hurt in the world. It's crazy how a few short hours has the entire direction of my life changing. I can see my future laid out in front of me now and she's the center of it. I came to this cabin looking for answers, and I've got them in the form of an angel.

  5

  Blake

  As soon as the door slammed shut I was ready to open it and apologize, but before I could talk myself into it the shower kicked on. Looking around the room, I’m taken back to the last time I slept in here. I had just graduated high school. Drake and I were here with several of our classmates having one last hurrah before we all left for college.

  The room is exactly as it was back then. After Granddaddy died, I didn’t have the heart to change anything. Even though this was always my room, it felt wrong to erase the memories that clung to the teenie-bop posters of various boy bands and the heartthrob actors I lusted over as a teen. The bulletin board is still littered with pictures—mostly Polaroids of summers spent lazing around the creek—but there are also pictures I had taken of myself. Some are of me with friends, some are just me—you know selfies before selfies were cool.

  Rummaging through the chest of drawers, I find one of my old Backstreet Boys t-shirts and some shorts that were considered indecent on my barely-there teenage curves. Now they fit like I’m getting ready to take a spin around a pole at the Pink Cadillac for a couple bucks and a tic-tac.

  A tic-tac you ask?

  Well, once upon a time I shared a dorm room with a girl named Bethany who called herself Cherry B, a well-known dancer of the poles. She loved to regale the entire dorm with tales of her misadventures. One story included a dude that threw tic-tacs instead of money.

  I can’t make this shit up.

  As I fold up Hutch’s well-worn robe, I can’t keep myself from holding the soft material to my nose and inhaling his masculine scent. It’s a heady mix of soap and man. I’m almost tempted to put it under my pillow and bask in the false security the smell brings. Instead, I set it on the dresser and flop down on my bed. The springs squeak and the mattress dips precariously in the center showing its years of use, but it’s comforting, too.

  Familiar.

  In the quiet of my room, I'm no longer distracted by Hutch and I can't stop thinking about my situation. I'm basically homeless and everything I own is in the condo I shared with Shane. Tears well up and I can't hold in my sobs.

  This isn't who I am, I might've been pushed into a box that made me the perfect little woman for Shane. I snort at the thought because let's be honest, if I was what he wanted he wouldn't have been fucking my bestie.

  I'll give myself tonight to be a crybaby. Tomorrow I'll get my poop in a group.

  I toss and turn for what feels like hours, my mind constantly replaying everything that’s happened in the last forty-eight hours. It’s hard to believe that just two short days ago I woke up in a state of bliss, completely oblivious. Okay, maybe not bliss, but I thought I was happy. And now? Now there is no hiding from the reality. I’ve always been a glass half-full kind of girl. At this very moment, if my glass is half-full, then it’s half-full of curdled milk.

  Hello Debbie Downer.

  I’m still deep in self-pityville when sleep finally claims me.

  A loud crash followed by the ominous flicker of lights going out jerks me out of sleep and leaves the room in complete darkness. I’m not scared of the dark. Nope, I’m a grown ass woman. But the huge crack of lightening followed by window rattling thunder has me jumping out of bed, heart pounding. The next bolt of lightning has me running like the hounds of hell are chasing me. Without thought, or care, that I was breaking the rules of etiquette I not only enter Hutch’s room without knocking, but I then proceed to dive under the covers and scare the shit out of him.

  I know this because he shoots up out of a dead sleep ready to pounce on enemy soldiers. After a confused moment of attack or cuddle, he pulls me into his body and rests back against the pillows. Quickly and easily accepting me into his bed like it's the most natural thing ever. As the warmth from his body encompasses me, I kind of feel like it is.

  “Sorry.” Lame, I know, but it’s all I had. I’m not scared of the dark. Okay, I lie. Totally can't stand it, I've always had night lights. Drake use to pick at me for my irrational fear, but it isn't something I can get over. Add a storm and the dark together, plus the kind of emotional damage of the last couple days? No way.

  “S’okay, Kitten.” His sleep rough voice caresses over me.

  The wind starts howling against the windows just before the rain starts beating its rhythm against the tin roof. The room lights up with more lightning and my body tenses waiting for the boom of thunder that will follow. Hutch doesn't say anything more, just holds me closer as he gently runs his fingertips over my spine. The constant motion calms me despite my tension and fear, ultimately lulling me into that place between wakefulness and sleep. I’m standing right on the cusp ready to dive down when his lips brush against my hair and I swear he curses my brother.

  My dreams are full of half-naked leprechauns pole dancing.

  6

  Hutch

  Hmmm… I think as I squeeze the warm body that’s curled around mine closer, rubbing my cock against the enticingly soft flesh.

  Wait…what the?

  My memory catches up with my excited body and I realize I went to bed alone last night. At the cabin. Where no one else should be. Then it hits me, no one except the little hellcat in the other room.

  Blake.

  Wracking my m
ind for any clues as to how she ended up in bed with me, I draw a blank. Carefully, I try to extract myself from the tangle of blankets and limbs, quickly realizing that it would be impossible without dumping her to the floor. Her sweet little body is draped over my chest, her leg between mine, and the soft vee of her thighs providing the perfect resting place for my over-eager cock.

  Fuck me.

  As wakefulness fully takes over bits and pieces from the night before begin to come back to me—Blake getting angry, me taking my frustrations out on my cock in the shower, going to bed alone and pissed off that she was crying and I couldn't help her, the storm, my little hellcat turned fraidy-cat jumping into bed with me, and waking up.

  The one thing that was missing from the night?

  My nightmares stayed silent.

  It’s the first time in years that I didn’t have the ghosts from my past haunting me throughout the night. I feel my heart swell and peace suffuses me. Pulling Blake closer, I let myself doze. Happy to enjoy the moment for as long as possible.

  * * *

  I’m not sure how long I was out, but Blake stretching her muscles and making sexy little grunting noises wakes me up. Not just me… my cock went from half-mast to nail pounding hard in less than a second. When she nuzzles into my neck and breathes against my skin, it becomes achingly clear to me that I am going to stake my claim, regardless of the consequences.

  I half-expect that as soon as she comes fully awake and realizes who she is cuddled up to that she will somehow blame me for the situation. But instead, she gets impossibly closer, tangling her legs with mine and wrapping her arm around my waist using it for leverage to press her body into me. Instinctively, I squeeze her and offer acceptance or just plain acknowledgement that I am okay with her being there.