by M. S. Parker
When he came back in, he had a rag shoved up against his nose and his eyes were snapping.
I tucked my hands into my pockets and studied him, hoping to figure out what it was about this twenty-six year-old meat packer with the messy bronze hair that had entranced my baby sister so much that she'd been sneaking out for six months to see him.
His face was grim, or what I could see of it.
After a minute, he lowered the rag. The blood had slowed to a trickle.
“I gave you that one, rich boy, and only that one, because I understand. I got a sister too, and I'd be upset if I was in your shoes. But you come at me again and it won't be free.”
Rich boy?
I ran my tongue along the inside of my teeth. He wasn't making me like him any better. I gave him a longer, harder look. He might've been thinner than me, but I could see the corded muscles in his arms. He wasn't a pushover.
“If you’re looking for a piece of me,” Colton offered. “I wouldn’t mind blowing off steam.”
It was like he was reading my mind.
Then he grinned, and the smile had a hard slant. “And since you’ve already thrown the first punch, I don’t have to worry about Dory getting pissed off at me when she sees that I marked up that pretty boy face of yours.”
“Dory?” I echoed.
He cocked a brow at me. “What of it?”
“That’s the name of a fish.”
“I know.” He grinned. “It suits her. She’s adorable and ditzy. She cussed me out and smacked me when I told her that.”
I was tempted to do the same – maybe not a smack – but I could punch him again.
Except I had a lousy feeling in my gut. It was one I’d experienced a few too many times today. The one I got when I was wrong. And I’d been wrong a lot today. I had a feeling I’d been wrong about this guy too.
“You really care about my sister, don’t you?” I kept my eyes on his face as I asked the question.
“You just now figuring that out, rich boy?” He said it with a bit of a sneer. It was only mildly softened by the light of sympathy in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to invite me for Christmas or anything. I’ll keep my dirty, blue-collar germs to myself.”
I could feel heat climbing up my neck, but I didn’t bother to try and correct him. It had nothing to do with the fact that he worked for living.
But at the same time, it had everything to do with it. Especially now.
He’d already told me he didn’t know where Isadora was, and from what I'd recently learned, if anybody would know, it was him. But if that was the case, then it was looking more and more like she’d been taken.
So I didn’t give a damn if Colton worked with his hands for a living, but wasn't it possible that someone with only a little money would be the kind of person who might want to find a way to make some easy money. Like a ransom.
I should've felt bad suspecting something like that about someone who cared for my sister, but if I didn't have him as a suspect, who did I have?
Nobody.
***
After a couple of drinks, I could admit, to myself at least, that I’d handled the night badly.
Of course, this was the first time I’d ever had my sister kidnapped, so it wasn't like I'd had a lot of experience in dealing with the proper way to handle it. Still, I'd always liked to think I was one of those guys who could maintain his composure even under pressure.
Now, I knew the truth. Under pressure, I was exactly what I was at any other time in my life.
An ass.
I’d lashed out at anybody and everybody but the persons responsible – the sons of bitches who’d grabbed my sister…and myself for failing to protect her.
That was the honesty yielded by a couple of drinks.
Of course, I also sucked when it came to any kind of self-reflection.
So I had a few more drinks.
That’s where things got fuzzy.
At some point between brooding and having my keys taken away by the nice but firm bartender – admittedly, I wasn’t so far gone to know that I needed to give them up – my brain started to spin in and out of focus.
I think I tumbled into one cab, and then out.
I should have gone home.
But something else I sucked at too many times was doing what I should do.
Things got really fuzzy after that.
Which was probably how I ended up staggering up a set of stairs that I didn't recognize.
What I did know was that I’d asked the cabbie to drop me off somewhere around here.
Why?
That was the fuzzy…
The door opened, and everything snapped into focus.
Toni.
Toni Gallagher stood there glaring at me. Her dark red hair piled on her head. She was wearing an old t-shirt that hit her mid-thigh.
Her eyes, dark and blue, raked over me from head to toe, and the look on her face was one of vague disgust.
For reasons I couldn't recall, that pissed me off.
I lifted a hand and pointed my finger at her.
Both of her.
“You…”
I swallowed and realized I was slurring my words. Damn. I was drunker than I realized.
She finished for me, an elegant eyebrow arching over her pretty eyes. “You're drunk.”
“Are you?”
Toni rolled her eyes. “Go home, Ash.”
“Home.” I nodded. That made sense. I guess. Then I remembered and my face fell. “Iz…she’s gone.”
Toni’s face softened and she moved closer.
That made it okay, right?
Chapter 3
Toni
The last thing I expected at nearly three a.m. was to have somebody banging on my door.
No. Correction.
The last thing I expected at nearly three a.m. was to have Ashford Lang knocking on my door, drunk off his ass. Once I managed to get his drunk ass over to my couch, I saw that his knuckles were busted up.
At some point, he’d hit somebody. I really hoped it wasn't someone who was going to press charges. That was the last thing he needed at the moment.
Sighing, I pushed his hair back from his face. “What in the hell am I supposed to do with you?” I murmured. It was a rhetorical question. He wasn't even close to coherent enough to answer.
Besides, common sense already told me what I should do.
I should call a cab and send Mr. Lang back home. At the most generous, I should call the emergency number for Doug that Isadora gave me and have him come get his boss.
I didn’t listen.
Forty minutes later, I was practically drowning him in water, tomato juice and a little extra something I learned helped replace the lost electrolytes and helped beat a hangover. Well, I hadn't technically learned it. Aside from all of the tips pre-med and psych students exchanged, I'd had years of watching my four older brothers come home drunk and not wanting our parents to know. I'd paid attention.
The good news was that Ash was getting my expertise before he reached the hangover stage.
The bad news was that I didn't think he appreciated it.
When I started to lift his head to take another glass of water, he caught my wrist and opened a pair of eyes so green, they shouldn’t have been permitted by nature. The fact that they were blood-shot just made the green stand out more.
“You need the water,” I told him, using my best stern sister voice.
In a surprisingly clear voice, he said, “Haven’t you shoved a swimming pool full of it down my throat already?”
I smiled sweetly. “No. Only a wading pool. Now drink.”
To my surprise, he obliged, and then accepted the ibuprofen I gave him.
But the second he sat up, it was damn clear he still wasn’t sober. He swayed a little and I braced myself. If I had to catch him, we’d both go down. I was strong, but there was no way I could handle that much dead weight.
“Just how much have you had to
drink?” I asked him.
He squinted at me.
I was almost amused. “Do I need to rephrase the question?”
“No.” He spoke with the clear, careful enunciation of a man who was drunk enough to know he was drunk, but was trying to pretend otherwise. “I’m trying to remember the exact amount. I lost count after the second bar.”
I sighed. “You idiot.” I nodded at his hand. “You hit somebody.”
“Those keen powers of observation will serve you well when you're shrinking people.”
He flexed his hand, frowning down at his scraped knuckles as if he’d never seen his own hand before. In that moment, he looked so lost that I reached out, unable to stop myself, and stroked his hair.
At the exact same moment, he looked up and caught my wrist, our gazes connecting. His thumb stroked over the inside and my pulse leaped in response. Heavy, thick lashes drooped, but not before I saw his pupils flare with desire.
Memories of the heated moments we’d shared surged to life, and I could feel that fire arcing between us. He tugged me closer, reaching up with his free hand to cup my cheek. He stroked his thumb over my lip.
Echoing his movement, I caught his wrist.
“No.” Shaking my head, I turned my face away. “That isn’t a good idea.”
“Why not?”
He sounded like a petulant child, and if the circumstances had been different, I might've found it endearing.
“You’re drunk. You’re upset.”
He made a frustrated sound. “I was five seconds away from fucking you a few hours ago. I wasn’t drunk or upset then. Safe to say, that's not why I want you.”
He tugged on my wrist and I looked down at him. His expression changed, the atmosphere shifting. There was a sadness to him now, dangerously close to vulnerability.
“Toni…I don’t want to think anymore. It’s not solving anything and I keep doing stupid things…yelling at you…” He was almost pleading.
He tugged me into his lap, and I was helpless to resist. I groaned as he buried his face between my breasts. Through the material of my shirt, I felt the heat of his breath and an ache pulsed between my thighs. But logic was still in control.
For now.
“This isn't…”
He gripped my thigh, squeezing. His voice was rough. “I think right now, fucking you is the one thing that will keep me from flying apart.”
Shit. My heart nearly stuttered to a stop. Logic continued to scream inside my head, and I cupped his face. I had to take control of the situation.
“This won't solve anything,” I said, my voice shaking. “You'll wake up and Isadora will still be missing. You’ll be half-wondering if you can stand me again.”
“I can stand you just fine.” He wrapped my braid around his hand, using it to hold me so that I couldn't look away. “It’s just hard to look at you and not want to bury my cock in you the second I see you.”
It was like my blood had turned into a river of fire.
This time, when he tugged me closer, I couldn’t resist anymore. And, logic be damned, I didn't want to.
I gasped as his mouth closed over mine, and when his tongue stabbed between my lips, my pussy throbbed in demanding envy.
He was still wearing the thin, dressy trousers from earlier, and I sucked in a breath at how easily I could feel him hardening beneath me.
I wore an old, threadbare T-shirt from college and nothing else, not even panties. Nothing, save what he wore, separated us and it definitely wasn’t enough material. His fingers were nearly frantic in my hair, pulling apart my braid so that my still-damp hair fell in waves down my back. With that accomplished, he caught my hips and dragged me up, then down, rubbing me against him.
I whimpered.
The sound broke through the haze of arousal and some semblance of sanity tried to assert itself. I braced my hands against his shoulders, putting some distance between us. “Ash…”
“Toni,” he said, mimicking my inflection.
He dipped his head, raked his teeth along my neck. When he closed his mouth on the fleshy area where neck met shoulder and started to suck, hunger gathered and pulsed between my thighs. I could feel myself growing wetter. I knew I shouldn't have been so turned on, especially not by this man who made me so angry, but my body had other ideas.
As if he sensed the winning battle, he arched up and started to rock against me.
When he lifted me up and pulled at his trousers, all I did was brace my weight on his shoulders and my knees. I'd made my decision and I wasn't going anywhere. I looked at him, our gazes caught, tangled. Our breaths came in ragged pants and in no time, he had freed himself and he caught my hand, guided it to his cock.
I groaned when I closed my fingers around him. He was just as big and hard as I'd imagined he would be.
“Tell me again how stupid this is,” he said against my lips just before he stole another deep, hungry kiss.
My hair turned into a veil around us, blocking out the world. “It’s so stupid. And I don’t care.”
He lifted me up, and I braced myself. I was wet, but there'd been no other foreplay and he was big. This was going to be intense. With a groan, I sank down on him.
I think I’d been preparing for this almost from the moment I’d seen him at my door, and although I had to fight to take him, it was the sweetest damn battle. But he wasn’t going to let me win it, not my way. I was only half-way down when he took over, lifting me back up. I groaned and flexed, trying to take control back from him. Even like this, it was a fight between us.
He responded to my attempt by twisting and shifting in a movement so smooth, it took my brain a moment to process it. And, even still half-drunk, a moment was all he needed.
I was on my back a second later, half-leaning over the arm of the couch, and he was crouched between my thighs. His gaze bore into mine as he withdrew, almost completely leaving me. Then, slowly, he dragged his gaze down, as if he could see through the T-shirt neither of us had bothered to discard. I followed his gaze, down over the hard points of my nipples that were clearly visible through the thin cotton. When I saw what he was looking at, my belly contracted, the muscles in my pussy clamping tighter.
He was staring at where we joined, where I was stretched around him, his cock mostly outside of my body, only the swollen head still inside me. I groaned and shuddered, rolled my hips, desperate to draw him inside.
He simply tightened his grip on my hips, making it impossible to move.
“I knew you’d be like this,” Ash said, his voice harsh and hungry.
There was no trace of a slur to his words now. Whether it was the lust or the drinks that I've given him, it didn't matter. He wasn't too drunk to know what he was doing.
“You want to take control.”
He fed me one slow inch, and then retreated. He smiled when I made a sound of protest.
“I control things,” Ash said, staring down at me in challenge.
Nothing had ever made me hotter in my life. Still, I wasn’t one to let a challenge go unmet. I hadn't survived twenty-four years of being a baby sister to four brothers in New York City by having a weak personality.
“You can’t control me.” Keeping my eyes locked on his, I slid a hand down the middle of my torso, stopping only to lightly tease my nipples. When I reached the place where we were joined, he caught my hand. I grinned up at him and used my other one.
He caught that one too. That freed my hips and I arched up, sucking in a breath as he sank a few inches deeper. So good.
A hot light came into his eyes, and he flipped me over onto my knees, driving into me deep and hard before I could catch my breath. It tore a cry from me, one that was as much victory as it was pleasure. But it was a victory I tried to celebrate too soon, because in the next moment, he grabbed my wrists and pulled my arms behind me, securing them at the base of my spine with one large hand.
“Now what are you going to do, Toni?” he demanded, slowing to shallow, short thrusts tha
t only fanned the fire inside me.
It was doing the same to him too, I knew. It was little comfort though, since my entire body was screaming for him to take me. There were times when I enjoyed a little slow and tender love-making.
This wasn't one of them.
I drove myself back against him, making a sound in the back of my throat as he started to fill me.
He grabbed my hip, immobilizing me. He was only half-way inside, but he was still as big as some other lovers I'd had in the past.
“Do you want to come?” he asked.
“You think you can make me beg?”
He laughed and the sound was ragged. “Yes. I can make you beg.”
He surged deep again, hard and fast, three times – almost –
Then he stopped. I was still panting and on the edge of climax when he settled back into that shallow, teasing pattern. I swore and twisted my hips as best I could. If he would only–
He drove into me again, hard, fast. Three thrusts.
Then again, slow, teasing.
“You son of a bitch,” I snarled. Damn bastard.
“Beg.” This time, when he said it, he let go of my hands and grabbed my hair, hauling me up so that my spine pressed against his chest. The pressure on my scalp was electric. Upright now, being so much shorter than him, I was all but impaled on his cock, my knees barely touching the cushion beneath me. I undulated and gasped as the motion had the head of his cock rubbing in almost the right spot. He was so close. A little more to the–
There.
“Toni…”
But I didn’t hear anything else. Lost in the most powerful climax of my life, I was deaf to everything, even the sound of my own ragged moans.
***
Morning came.
I’d kind of figured it would, since the clock had kept ticking away during the night. After the gut-wrenchingly raw sex on the couch, Ash had scooped me up into his arms and staggered his way the few short steps to my tiny bed.
