by Evie Monroe
But I spent this Saturday evening in a really wild way—housecleaning. Cleaning was the least I could do, considering everything Nix had done for me.
I did have the drinks, though. I popped the top on a beer and drank it as I was cleaning. I didn’t like the taste, but I did like the way it mellowed me, helped me relax.
Nix’s house smelled like cigarette smoke. He had ashtrays in every one of the three rooms, so I emptied them all into a big trash bag and rinsed them out, but is didn’t help the air.
As much as I loved the taste of cigarettes on his mouth, his placed needed a thorough…fumigating.
I went through his drawers and cabinets but couldn’t find cleaners of any description. No brooms, mops, cleaners, sponges...nothing. So I made do with what I had. He’d left a pile of fast food napkins on the kitchen table, so I used them to scrub down the kitchen and bathroom surfaces. I made the bed, straightened his furniture, and picked up the rest of the trash as best I could.
As I cleaned, I thought of Nix’s hot, muscular body as he pounded into me. It made every nerve ending I had stand on end.
God...no wonder I couldn’t stop thinking about him. All the other men I’d been with had been perfectly nice and sweet and good. Like I’d imagined, lawyers and doctors and businessmen. Nothing in my life before the attack even compared to his intensity, his raw sexuality.
Kneeling in front of the overflowing trash, I pushed the used napkins into the bag and wiped my brow. As I did, an image of Kevin popped into my mind.
Oh, God. Kevin.
Kevin was a dancer in my troupe, and my male lead in Carmen. He was an amazingly talented performer, and kind of cute, too, in a wholesome way. Blond hair, blue eyes, he moved like a feather in the wind. We’d gotten close over all the rehearsals, and at the last one, he’d asked me out for a coffee, alone. I’d said yes, and had actually been looking forward to it.
That was the type of man I always dated. Nice guys.
But now, I only saw how wrong Kevin was for me. There was no spark. No fire.
Not like the nuclear explosion I felt with Nix.
I’d have to call Kevin and tell him I wasn’t interested. It wouldn’t be fair to string him along when I was with Nix.
But was I with Nix? He didn’t strike me as the relationship type, and his sparse apartment proved he didn’t have women over long enough to make their mark on the place. Maybe we were just fucking. Maybe that was all he did.
It didn’t make me want to stop. Not in the least. I liked fucking.
I tied up the trash and put it by the door, all the while expecting to hear Nix’s bike pulling into the lot.
When I finished straightening the bedroom, I looked at the clock and realized he’d been gone three hours. Three hours, and I’d had three beers. I was buzzed, but not buzzed enough not to realize that something was wrong. Hadn’t he only said he would be gone an hour, tops?
I sat down on the sofa and looked at my dirty fingernails. I’d gotten a manicure before rehearsal on the day I was kidnapped, but two of my nails had cracked. I gnawed on one of them, but ten minutes later, I’d bitten them all off.
Where was he?
He lived a dangerous, wild lifestyle, that much I knew. There was nothing to stop him from leaving and never coming back.
My heart jammed in my throat as a thought came to me. Maybe it was a mistake to call my father. Maybe they’d been able to trace my call, and my father had discovered where I was staying. Maybe they’d hurt him. Would my father do something like that? He may have been my father, but I had absolutely no idea what he was capable of.
Was this my fault? I paced to the kitchen and looked out the window. Only darkness outside.
Then I sank into a chair at the kitchen table, my pulse pounding.
About ten minutes later, I heard the roar of his bike and jumped up as if launched from a rocket. I ran to the door and opened it before he’d even gotten up the stairs.
I nearly fainted when I saw the white shirt under his vest smeared with blood.
“Hey. You shouldn’t open the door before—”
“Oh my God! What happened to you?” I cried as he entered and closed the door, locking it behind him.
He looked down. “I’m all right.”
He said it without a trace of emotion. Was he in shock? Didn’t anything ever get him worked up?
Maybe I was wrong. I looked at it again. It was blood, not ketchup or barbecue sauce or whatever. No one could mistake that bright red color. “But…what? Why do you have blood on you? What happened?”
“Your friends from Hell’s Fury happened. They made a little guest appearance at church tonight.”
I covered my mouth with my hand. “What?”
“Yeah, we got in a gunfight with them.”
A gunfight? Like in the old west? He said it like it was so normal, just an everyday thing. My jaw dropped. “Is that a normal thing? Just go out and have a gunfight?”
He thrust his helmet on the table and leaned against the counter. Then he looked at the window over the sink and seemed to think better of it. He closed the blinds, took my hand, and led me deeper into the apartment. He paused in the hallway. “From now on, keep the blinds closed.”
My eyes widened as I comprehended what he was saying. “You don’t think…”
“I don’t know what to think.” His voice was gruff, tired.
I swallowed and slumped against the wall. “Nix. Is this because of me?”
He shook his head. “Things between the Cobras and Hell’s Fury have been brewing for a while. It’s not your fault.”
I didn’t believe him. All of this felt like it was because of me. Me, and my father. My eyes trailed down to the smear of blood on the front of his shirt.
Reaching out, I pushed aside his vest, opening it. “Let me see. You’re bleeding.”
“No,” he growled as I touched him, running a finger over his shirt, trying to see where he’d been hurt. He flinched away.
“Yes, you are, it’s—”
Grasping my hands hard between us, he yanked me toward him, ripping all the air from my lungs. “It’s my brother’s blood. Okay?”
I looked up at him, unblinking. “Jet?”
His eyes glinted, and I thought I saw a hint—just a hint—of pain in them. Maybe he’d forgotten he told me about him. He nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Is he o—”
He was gripping my hands so hard, I thought he might break them off at the wrists. His eyes locked on mine and refused to let go. “Yeah. Stop talking. Let me have you.”
At once he took each of my wrists in one hand and raised them over me, pinning them against the wall. Again, I was knocked breathless.
He was a man possessed.
I trembled as he dragged his eyes from my lips, to my cheeks, to my chin with intense concentration, as if he didn’t know which part he wanted to taste first. His smell, warm and male and strong, intoxicated my senses, leaving me dizzy as he leaned down, capturing my mouth with his.
He kissed me, hard, possessive, his hand engulfing my face. There was nothing soft about the way he kissed, trapping me, his tongue devouring, invading, consuming.
I leaned into him, happy to be devoured, offering myself to him. Caged against his blatantly sexual body, he pressed his erection into me, hard as steel.
As far as hard things go, he put the wall to shame.
My pulse thrummed against him. Anticipation ran down my spine. I wanted this more than anything.
“I want you,” I breathed out when he broke the kiss. “Here. Now.”
Dropping my wrists, his hands roved the front of my camisole, taking each strap and drawing them down quickly, too quickly. He dipped the pad of my bra down, freeing my tit and took it roughly in his hand, drawing it to his mouth. He sucked hard on it. Bit on it. Assaulted me with his teeth. I tangled my hands in his hair and cried out. “God, Nix. God. Do that. Harder. Yes.”
We tore at each other’s clothing. I reached dow
n and pulled at his belt buckle in a frantic race to get his cock inside me. I yanked it open with blind insanity, snapping the top button of his jeans. When I went to pull them down over his hips, I felt the bulge of his gun at his ass. My fingers stiffened as I touched the hard metal.
Without breaking his mouth from my breast, he reached behind him, and took it out. He dropped it to the ground and kicked it out of the way, like it was nothing. Then he lifted up my skirt and dug his hands into the globes of my ass as he continued to lavish attention on my breasts.
I unzipped his pants, reaching in and drawing out his hard cock. I brought it between my legs, rubbing the head against my wet pussy.
“Now,” I said, spreading my legs. “Now. Please. Fuck me Nix. Don’t hold back.”
Lifting me off the ground, he hooked my legs around his hips, pressing me up against the wall, and drove in so hard and fast that it stole my breath. I screamed, a sound he stifled with a hot, open-mouthed kiss.
I felt every inch of his huge, thick cock inside me, filling me. But it lasted for barely a second. Because at once he started to move, setting the rhythm. He fucked me, harder than before. Long, deep strokes, getting deeper with every thrust. Drilling into me with purpose. Like he had something to prove, each time pushing me higher and higher, mounting me on the wall. I bit into his shoulder through his t-shirt; if he kept it up, I’d draw my own blood. I raked my fingers down his ripped back.
As he pressed me up against the wall, he grunted, his boots scrabbling on the floor beneath us. I slid my hands down the small of his back, gripping his ass, feeling the raw power of his straining muscles. I wrapped my legs tighter around him, crossing them behind him.
I growled against him, begging. “More. Don’t stop. You feel so good, Nix.”
But suddenly he pulled out, leaned against the wall holding his dick and came on his hand. “Fuck.”
“What happened?” I asked in the darkness, confused, as he clutched his cock, tense concentration on his face.
“Forgot the condom,” he said, still hunched over. “Don’t know where my goddamn head was.”
I let out a breath. I’d forgotten, too. The man did a number on my brain. He had a reason, at least. He’d just been through a gang fight. Me? He just blinded me with good dick, pure and simple. “Oh.”
“I’m clean,” he said. “And I pulled out in time.”
“Okay,” I whispered to him. “It’s okay, Nix. Really.”
“No, it’s not. Not for you,” he ground out, his hands roving under my skirt. “Come here.”
He grabbed me by the hips and lifted my skirt. He slipped a finger between my legs, through the folds, and hooking his knuckle, drove it into me.
I gasped.
His beard scraped my neck, and his mouth closed down on the side of my throat as he fucked me with one finger, and then two. All the while, the pad of his thumb brushed my clit in soft, circular motions.
I swayed against him, grinding on his hand, getting into it, my breathing coming shorter and faster now.
“You like that?” he said gruffly.
I nodded. I liked it so much, I couldn’t speak. I spread my legs wider and lifted my hips to him as I rocked on his hand, a low moan emanating from my throat. I still couldn’t find my voice. I didn’t want to speak and change anything...because this was a pleasure so perfect I wasn’t sure I could ever have it again.
His tongue drove deeper into my mouth as he pressed up against me, fucking me with his finger and completely owning me. He held his face close to mine, watching my reaction with great interest, and breathed out, “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Liv baby. Come for me.”
And I did. I was powerless to do anything but what he commanded. He set me off so hard, I lost all sense of shame. My insides contracted powerfully around his fingers again and again, for five...ten...fifteen seconds. It just kept going. I finally slumped against him, pressed up against his chest, my insides quivering and turning to jelly.
“Nix,” I whispered, still spasming around him as he slowly withdrew his wet fingers. “Oh, my God. How do you do that to me?”
He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them dry. His eyes had a steely intensity to them, like he didn’t need the compliment. He knew he was that good.
I couldn’t feel my legs. I knew if he moved away or let go of me, I’d fall to the floor and melt.
But he didn’t. He held on to me for a few seconds, before he took my face in his hands and crushed my lips with his mouth. His voice was ragged, low. “I’m not done with you.”
Then he scooped me up, upending my world, and carried me into the bedroom for more.
Chapter Seventeen
Phoenix
I woke up early that morning with muscles stiff as hell and an ear-to-ear grin on my face.
I craned my neck to the side and saw the reason. Liv, curled under my arm. She looked like every man’s fantasy, clinging to my side with her hair splayed out over my chest. I reached out and tucked a blonde lock back, away from her face, remembering last night.
We’d fucked all night. People say that, and I’d even said it before, but I never got the meaning of it until right then. Our bodies were in total sync, drawn together like magnets through the night. I lost track of how many times we came.
And I still couldn’t get enough of her. Looking at her now, my cock twitched, wanting to get in the game again.
I shifted in bed, adjusting my growing cock and grabbed my pack of Marlboros. I lit up a cigarette and just sat there, smoking, with her curled in arms.
Her eyes fluttered opened. “Hi,” she said sleepily.
“Hey. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
She yawned and stretched. “You didn’t.” She sat up and blinked in the morning sunlight coming through the window. Her tits looked dewy and raw where I’d sucked and bitten on them. She looked thoroughly, gloriously fucked.
But it wasn’t quite enough for my cock. My cock thought it could do better.
Then she checked the clock at my bedside. She smiled as I exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Can I have a drag?”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “Ballerinas shouldn’t smoke.”
She gave me a condescending look. “Really. No one should smoke. But I want one drag.”
I handed it to her. She looked at it. “Smoking is supposed to…what? Why do people smoke after sex?”
“I really don’t know. I smoke after sex because I smoke all the time.”
“Really?” She held the cigarette carefully to her mouth and took one small puff. Immediately, she started to gag. I took the cigarette back from her as she made a face. “That’s horrific. The human body shouldn’t be subjected to that.”
“You concentrate on your human body and I’ll concentrate on mine.” I shook my head when I realized what I was saying. “Scratch that. You concentrate on your human body, and I’ll also concentrate on your human body.”
I reached my hand under the sheet and found my way between her thighs. She squirmed, but parted her legs, giving me access.
Her brow furrowed. “You should quit, maybe. Not because I don’t like that taste. I actually like the taste on you. I just want you to live a long time.”
“Living a long time is overrated.” I told her, propping my head up on my arm. “Besides, I’ve been smoking a pack a day since I was thirteen. My dad bought me my first pack of cigarettes then. So I think I’m too far gone for that, Liv.”
She frowned. Her eyes drifted over my tats, and they suddenly lit up. “Oh my gosh. I just remembered. I had a dream I was getting a tattoo.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep. A big skull, right on my thigh.” She slapped her thigh, just above the knee. “Think I should?”
I shook my head slowly. “Hell no.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Why not? It might make me look tough.”
“You don’t need to look tough. I like the way you look, just fine, right now.”
Her eyes swept down my tattoo. She reached
out and ran a long fingernail down my bicep. “Does it hurt?”
I shook my head, then reconsidered. “Depends who you ask. If you ask me, no. My brother, Jet, cried during his first one. He’ll tell you those weren’t tears, but I know better.”
She laughed. “If your little brother knew half the things you said about him, he’d disown you.”
“Nah. We’re always ragging on him. He knows he’s a pretty boy. So he tries twice as hard. Has more tats than all of us put together. It’s like he’s always trying to get out from under my shadow and prove himself.”
She studied me, a smile breaking out on her face that turned into a little giggle. I rolled over and stubbed my cigarette out in the ashtray. “What?”
She gave me a playful little schoolgirl smile. “Nothing. Just that you try to be all tough and badass, but it’s obvious you love him.”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Well. He can be a pain in the ass.”
She eyed me with a look that said she knew better than I did. “Still, I think I’d like to meet him.”
I nodded, even though I couldn’t see the introductions in my head. I’d never introduced a girl to Jet before. With me and women, it was usually over before it began. And I didn’t want to hear the pussy-whipped shit any more. “Sometime, maybe.”.
She tried to sit up a little more against the wall. “Oh, God, I’m sore,” she moaned. “What did you do to me?”
I grinned at her. “I could ask you the same thing. Fucking ballerina. The average human body isn’t meant to move that way.”
“I guess I’m not average. But you kept up pretty well.” She batted her eyelashes innocently. “Besides, you loved it.”
“Yeah. I did. Come here.”
I pulled her onto me. She threw a leg over my hip and straddled me, kissing me, her hair falling in a veil around my face. When she pulled back, I saw the crease of worry in her eyes. I thought of last night, the way she’d clung to me, eyes wide when she saw the blood on my shirt.
“What’s wrong?”
She stiffened and bit her lip. “There’s something you should know, Nix.”
Part of me had been waiting for this. A hundred thoughts hit my head at once, but what stood out the most was what Jet had said last night. She’s playing you. I twirled a lock of her hair around my finger. “Go ahead.”
