Claimed: The Complete Short Romance Series

by Nichole Rose

  The relieved smile she gives me lets me know she wants it just as badly as I do.

  "Oh!" she cries, spinning to face me. "Are you afraid of dogs?"

  "Do I look like someone who would be afraid of a dog?" I arch a brow at her.

  "We have a guard dog."

  "You have a guard dog?" I have to fight a smile, thinking about her with a neurotic little purse dog who thinks he's a killer.

  "Yes. Well, no." She huffs. "He's technically Caroline's dog, but he's supposed to keep us safe. Mostly, he just lays around and watches Lifetime. He's kind of spoiled, but he can be intimidating the first time he meets someone, especially men." Her face scrunches up into an annoyed scowl. "Our brothers are kind of crazy. And we don't even have men over here. Mostly just Bitesquad drivers when we're too lazy to cook."

  I shake my head and chuckle at her rambling. "I'm not afraid of dogs, angel baby."

  She shoots me another relieved smile and then unlocks the door and pushes it open. "Meeko?" she calls, poking her head into the apartment. "Come here, Meeko!" She pauses for a minute and then turns to look at me. "I guess he's with Caroline."

  I follow her into the apartment and then pause to look around. Her place is definitely not the typical college pad. For one, everything is perfectly tidy. For another, her furniture alone is probably worth more than the building it sits in. The place is small but not cramped. It's bright and sunny, inviting.

  "Here," she says, reaching out to take her bag from me. "I'll put this up."

  I follow behind her, curious about where she sleeps. Her bedroom is closest to the living room. It's nothing like I expected. The room is as neat and tidy as the living room, but her bedroom furniture is made of antique copper and rustic wood that look almost masculine. Her comforter is a purple so dark it's almost black. The curtains and the rug on the floor match. Stepping inside feels a little like stepping out into nature.

  A bulletin board over her desk and the items on top of the desk are the only really girly touches. Various sticky notes, calendars, and photos are tacked to the board with butterfly pins. The border is a lighter purple than the linens. So are all of the little cups and organizers on the desk. She has a bookcase crammed full of books. Some look like they're one more read from falling apart.

  "Which is your favorite, angel baby?" I ask.

  She jumps and twirls to face me. "You scared me!"

  "You forget I was here?"

  "No." She blushes bright red. "I didn't know you were still behind me."

  I shake my head at her, amused. She did the same thing several times tonight…got so caught up in whatever was going on in her head and forgot the world around her. I pry the bag from her hands and then drop it to the floor before drawing her body closer to mine.

  "You get lost thinking about me, Kennedy?"

  "No," she lies, her voice breathless. Her eyes heat and darken as I wrap my arms around her, holding her to my body. She's so soft. Never thought that could be as big a turn on as it is, but as soon as I touch her sweet little body, my cock goes rock hard.

  "What were you thinking about?" I lean down to brush my lips across hers. Those are soft too, and addicting. She still tastes like cherries.

  She digs her fingers into the arms of my jacket, a dreamy sigh whispering from her lips.

  "Asher," she breathes, tilting her face up, silently demanding more kisses.

  I give them to her, of course.

  Kissing Kennedy is the best damn thing I've ever done. I slide my hand into her thick mass of hair, tilting her head how I want her. My tongue touches her bottom lip, demanding she open for me. As soon as she does, I lick into her mouth, groaning when that sweet cherry taste hits my system.

  The tip of her tongue touches my ring, playing with it. Even with my lips seamed to hers, I find myself fighting a smile. She's so fascinated with my piercings. Don't think she realizes yet how much she loves them. She definitely doesn't know how much more she'll love this particular one when I finally get my mouth on her.

  She tugs at my jacket, making an impatient sound in the back of her throat.

  "You want this off, angel?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "So damn sweet." I chuckle and strip the jacket off, letting it fall to the floor.

  As soon as it's gone, she's got her hands on my body, running them over my chest. And fuck if that isn't the best feeling in the world. My entire body buzzes like it did the first time I set eyes on her a few days ago.

  I know the second she discovers two of my other piercings.

  One hand pauses over my pec, her lips breaking from mine. "Asher, what…"

  "Piercings, angel baby."

  Her wide green eyes meet mine.

  I chuckle at the shocked, desire-dazed look on her face.

  "Show me," she demands.

  It's my turn to be shocked. And turned the fuck on.

  "Jesus," I rasp, my dick throbbing at the excited, commanding look on her face. She's a little queen, demanding what she wants from me. I'm helpless to resist her. Have been since the word go. Not that I'm trying too hard or anything. I'll give her whatever she wants.

  I quickly start undoing the buttons of my shirt, cursing when I fumble with the damn things. She gives me a sweet little smile and then brushes my hands away to do it herself. I have to bite my lip to keep from groaning out loud. She can undress me any damn time she wants.

  Once she slips the last button free, I slide the shirt off.

  "Oh, wow," she whispers, her lips parting into an adorable little "o". She reaches out as if to touch me and then hesitates, her hand hovering in midair.

  "Put your hands on me, baby." I'm not sure if I'm demanding or pleading.

  Either way, she gives me what I want. Her palm lands against my abdomen.

  "Jesus Christ, that feels good."

  Her skin is so soft against mine.

  I groan when she slides her hand upward, her palm running over my pec before she touches the barbell in my right nipple with the tip of her finger.

  "Your body is incredible, Asher," she says, meeting my gaze. Her teeth sink into her pouty bottom lip as she runs her finger around the barbell, watching my face as she does it. "I love your piercings and your tattoos."

  "Yeah?" I ask, my voice gritty. She's killing me. I grasp onto her hips, flexing my hands to keep me from tossing her down on her bed and humping her like a dog in heat. It's been years since anyone has touched me like she's doing. Actually, I don't think anyone has ever touched me like this…like they can't stop.

  She places her other hand on my stomach, her fingers dancing up the ridges of my abdomen, which flexes and contracts beneath her touch. Cum leaks from me, my balls begging for relief.

  "You want me to behave, you're going to have to stop touching me, angel baby," I grit out, planting my feet and locking my knees in a last-ditch effort to keep from pushing her where I know she isn't ready to go just yet.

  Her lashes flutter, her teeth leaving indentions in her bottom lip. "What if I don't want you to behave anymore, Asher?" she asks, her voice shaking. She tweaks the piercing in my left nipple, driving me that much closer to the edge. "What if I want you to be bad with me?"

  A bellow that's half misery and half crazed need escapes from deep within my chest, startling her. Before she can take it back or rethink anything, I'm boosting her up into my arms and stomping toward the bed. Her back hits it a second before I come down over her, wedging my knee between her thighs to keep them open for me.

  "You want to play, angel?" I growl, burying my face in her cleavage. Jesus Christ. How does her little body hold these up? They're obscene and so fucking sexy. I nip and bite her, inhaling her peaches scent into my lungs like I'm starving for it.

  She wraps her legs around my hips, locking them around me as if to keep me right where I'm at. Not that I plan on going anywhere. I can't fuck her yet. She isn't ready for that. But I can give her a taste of what she wants. I think I may lose my mind if I don't hear her coming in the
next five minutes.

  I roll my hips, grinding against her hot little center.

  "Asher!" Her arms fly around my neck, her fingernails digging into my shoulders as she arches upward, shocked as my erection rubs against her clit. Even through our clothes, I feel how hot she is, how turned on seeing my body got her.

  And if that isn't an ego boost, I don't know what is. My girl doesn't merely like my piercings and tattoos. She fucking loves them. I can't wait to introduce her to how much pleasure they'll give her when she's ready for it.

  For now, I beat back the desire to strip her down and fuck her raw, instead making love to her with my hands and mouth. I touch her everywhere, running my hands all over her gorgeous body. For someone so small and dainty, she's got killer curves. I could get lost in them, forget the world, and spend days exploring every inch of her.

  I want to know what makes her moan my name, and what makes her whimper. What makes her sob in pleasure and what makes her tremble. I want to know everything about her, be the one who teaches her how good she can feel.

  "You're so damn sexy, Kennedy," I growl, tugging down the top of her dress. Her right nipple springs free of her strapless bra, all hard and pink. I take advantage of my good fortune and wrap my lips around it, sucking hard enough to have her back bowing off the bed. Her nails scrabble down my back, undoubtedly leaving behind marks.

  "Asher!" she shouts.

  "Fuck, yes. Scream my name, angel baby," I demand, biting and sucking while rocking my hips into hers. I dry hump her like my life depends on it, using her for my pleasure and giving her back the same. I should probably slow this down and ease her into love play, but I can't seem to do it. Don't really want to do it when she's crying my name and rocking her hips with mine.

  "Asher, Asher," she chants, her head lolling back and forth on the bed.

  I yank the other side of her dress down and latch on to her nipple.

  "Asher, I-I…" Confusion and a tiny hit of fear enters her voice.

  "Shh, angel baby. I've got you. Just let it take you," I murmur, running my hands up and down her sides to soothe her nerves. I want to beat my chest and roar like a lion. She's never had an orgasm like this before. I'm her first.

  I'm going to be her last, too. Her everything.

  "Come for me, Kennedy," I order her, grinding my dick against her, licking and kissing all over her chest. I hitch her leg higher up my hips so my erection rides against her clit again and again.

  Her nails score into my back.

  "Stop trying to fight it," I growl, biting her nipple and then pulling it through my teeth…a little bit pleasure, a little bit pain. She needs to know I'm in charge here. She can order me to do anything, and I'll do it without question. But in this bed, she's mine to command. She's my little toy and I give the orders. I decide when she comes and how hard, when she's had enough and when she can take just a little more. "Come, Kennedy. Now."

  Her body bows beneath mine as she submits. Confusion and fear melt to shaking pleasure. She throws her head back and shouts my name in that smoky, desire-dazed voice, her legs locked around my hips and her nails in my skin, marking me as permanently as my ink does.

  I grit my teeth as my balls give up trying to hold back my own orgasm. I come hard, grinding my hips into hers as cum shoots up my shaft, soaking my boxers. It seems to go on forever, her little cries and shaking body draining my cock dry. I bury my face in her cleavage again, kissing her everywhere, worshipping her as the possessive, jealous motherfucker I am.

  "Mine," I growl over and over. "Mine."

  "Yes," she agrees, her body going lax beneath mine. "I'm all yours, Asher."

  A coil of tension, of anxiety I didn't even know I felt, unravels as soon as the agreement leaves her lips. My heart expands, the jagged cracks that have been there my entire life—the ones seemingly forged into my bones by a lifetime of neglect—knit themselves back together. For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm finally right where I'm supposed to be. Like I'm home.

  Chapter Six

  Asher

  "Jesus," I mutter, stopping right inside Kennedy's bedroom door to stare at her. When I left her to clean up, she was still sprawled across the bed like a wanton sacrifice. Now she's snuggled up with her hands tucked beneath her cheek. She looks like a sleeping angel, so damn beautiful she takes my breath away all over again.

  Her eyes pop open, landing on me. A blush creeps across her face, turning her cheeks that rosy red color I love so damn much.

  "Hi," she says and then giggles and covers her face with her hands as if she's embarrassed to face me after what we just did. My heart rolls at the sight.

  I prowl across the room toward her and then pick her up before sliding onto the bed in her place. I lay her on top of me, so she's sprawled across my chest. Her legs tangled with mine, a big, contented sigh escaping her lips.

  "You sleepy, angel baby?" I run my hand down her back.

  "Maybe a little."

  "You have class tomorrow?"

  "No." I hear the smile in her voice. "We don't have classes on Sunday, Asher."

  I grunt. I knew that. Guess I just forgot what day it is. That's entirely her fault. I lose all track of…everything…when she's close. The passage of time doesn't exist. Nothing but her registers. The world could burn and I wouldn't notice, that's how wrapped up in her I am.

  She runs her finger over the Virgin Mary tattooed on my arm. "You never told me what your tattoos mean," she murmurs.

  "You never told me your favorite book."

  "Oh, it's Jane Eyre."

  "Why?" I ask, not particularly familiar with the book.

  "Because love wins in the end," she says softly, still tracing my tattoo. "Despite everything she endured in her life, Jane still has a propensity to love. She never gives up believing that she's worthy of it, and she stays true to herself in her quest for it, even when that means leaving behind the man she loves."

  I'm not surprised by her answer, but it does make me smile. She's a romantic to her core. I love it.

  "My turn. What's this tattoo mean?" She taps the one she's been tracing. "It's beautiful but it seems…sad."

  "It's the Virgin Mary," I murmur and then take a breath, not sure how she's going to feel about the shit I memorialized in ink. She's so damn soft-hearted. I worry it'll hurt her. But I want her to know. For the first time in my life, I want someone to hear the things I went through. "When I was born, I guess my mom couldn't keep me or didn't know what to do or whatever. She gave birth to me in a public bathroom. She left me there afterward, wrapped in a blanket with a note that said, 'I'm sorry.'."

  "Oh, Asher," Kennedy whispers, her hand stalling on its journey around the Virgin Mary's hood. Her arms creep around my waist, hugging me tight. "I'm so sorry."

  "An older lady found me and called the police. They turned me over to social services. No one ever came forward to claim me, so I was put up for adoption. Thing is, I guess my mom was on drugs when she gave birth to me. Once prospective parents knew I was a crack baby, adoption offers dried up. I bounced around foster homes a lot."

  "Asher," she says again. Her little arms squeeze me tighter.

  I rub her back, more distressed for her than for me. I've lived with it my entire life. It'll never be a pleasant memory, but it doesn't hurt. I don't spend my life wishing for shit that's impossible or living in the past. I learned long ago that bitterness is poison, only it doesn't poison those it's directed at. It poisons you.

  "I was a hellion," I murmur, rubbing her back in circles. "I fought and raised nine kinds of hell. I drank and stole and generally caused chaos, so I ended up bouncing around foster and group homes a lot. Trick is the first person I met who didn't give up on me. He decided we were going to be brothers. When I'd fuck up and get myself booted out, he'd find a way to follow behind me. He's a few months older than I am, so he aged out first."

  "I'm glad you had him," she whispers, placing a kiss on my chest, over my heart.

  "Me too. He
saved my life," I admit, my voice gruff. "Had I not met him, I don't know where I would have ended up. Instead, he convinced me to join the military with him. As soon as I turned eighteen, we enlisted. Went to boot camp together, and then were deployed together. I realized pretty quick that the life wasn't for me, but I stayed in for almost a decade. Wanted to put my time in, make sure I had shit in order before I got out to open my shop."

  "I didn't know you were in the military. Thank you for your service."

  Scientists say sugar is the most addictive substance in the world. They clearly haven't met Kennedy. Her kind of sweetness is instantly addictive. I have a feeling that withdrawal is fatal because I already know losing her would fucking kill me.

  "I got out and did some business classes, apprenticed with John James, one of the best tattooists in Nashville at the time. About six years ago, I opened my own shop. I've been there since," I murmur. "My tattoos are all the important shit that happened to me along the way, the things I wanted to remember or the things I couldn't forget. That particular one is for my mom and the woman who found me."

  "Why the Virgin Mary?" She lifts her head to look at me. Her eyes are watery, tears trembling on her lashes.

  I wipe them away with my fingers, my heart pulsing with emotion. "Wishful thinking, perhaps," I admit. "Mary watched over Jesus his whole life. Don't know anything about my mom, but I guess I like to think she left me behind to give me a chance at a life different than hers, that her leaving me was her watching out for me in her own messed up way. The little old lady who found me watched over me too. She saved my life. I wanted to honor both of them."

  Kennedy's expression melts. "That's really sweet, Asher."

  "You're the sweet one, angel baby," I say, touching my thumb to her bottom lip. "So damn sweet you've got me addicted to you."

  "I think I'm addicted too."

  "Yeah?" I grin at her, feeling like a rockstar again.

  "Yeah. I…"

  The front door opens.

  "Meeko, you can't just run everyone over," a female complains in that affectionately annoyed tone women use when they're supposed to be mad but aren't really.