by Evie Monroe
After that, Drake called the police and gave them the address, saying he was a concerned neighbor and that he’d heard sounds coming from the house earlier that day and wanted to make sure everything was all right. When he ended the call, he looked at me. “Feel better now?”
I hugged myself, tamping down the goosebumps on my bare arms. “I’ll feel better when I know my mom is all right.”
“All right. Just hang tight, okay?” she said to me, touching my knee again, but not releasing his finger this time. He kept it there, drawing soothing circles on my skin.
That was all it took to make my pussy clench. And I still didn’t have any fucking panties on.
I shifted away from him, and he must’ve interpreted that as me being upset with him, because he said, “It’ll be all right. But there’s nothing you can do right now. The best you can do is keep away from him.”
I wiped the last of the tears from my eyes and nodded. “Okay. Whatever you say. But I feel useless.”
He stood up. “You tired? Want to take a nap? You can have the bed.”
I looked down at myself. I was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. After being in the bar, and all that sex last night, I still hadn’t taken a shower. My skin felt slick with sweat and my hair felt like a grease puddle. “Would you mind if I take a shower?”
He shook his head and motioned to the bathroom. “Help yourself. Towels in the closet.”
I looked at the door. I scraped my top teeth over my bottom lip, thinking. Yes, I did need a shower. But right now, what I needed most was to not be alone.
No, what I needed most was a little more of that magic touch of his.
All over my body.
I said, very timidly, “Uhm. Would you take one with me?”
His eyes flashed to mine. The speed with which he came to my side was almost Olympic-worthy. He started to usher me down the hall, but we didn’t get that far, because before I could reach the doorknob, his hands were on me, gripping me possessively. He whirled me to him in the narrow hallway, clamped his hands around me, and slammed his hard body against mine. His mouth settled on mine, and I surrendered myself to him. Right at that moment, I knew I would stay there and let him do whatever he pleased. I’d let him kiss, suck, fuck, lick, claim whatever he wanted, and I’d fucking love it.
He kissed me again like the badass he was, fucking my mouth with his tongue, his big hand engulfing my throat, then sliding down over my breasts. He reached the hem of my camisole and slid his hand underneath, cupping my breast and running his fingers on my nipple as I desperately pushed my tongue into his mouth. His other hand came around my neck, pulling the tie from my ponytail. My hair spilled down my shoulders as I pressed myself up against him.
Lifting my ass and pressing me against the wall, he broke the kiss and dragged his mouth, rough and wet, over my chin, down my throat to my breastbone. His teeth caught the fabric of the camisole and he lifted it down over my nipple, then sucked one into his mouth.
I growled. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew we were treading dangerous territory. I’d gone past the comfortable one-night-stand, something I’d been careful not to do. It felt like this was my whole universe, like I had nothing else on earth to look forward to or care about, and I clung to it. I tried to remain still, in breathless anticipation of what he’d do, where his mouth and hands would move next, because I wanted to remember this, wanted to remember the path his fingers and tongue trailed over every single part of my hot flesh.
But I was already close to losing my mind and forgetting myself completely. One more suck and I lost all reason and damn near cried, it was so good.
“Please,” I moaned as he freed both my tits from my camisole and continued to lavish his attention on them. He carried me into the bathroom. I wound my hands around the nape of his neck as he maneuvered to open the door to the shower and twist the shower knob. He began to kick off his boots, staring intently into my eyes, his forehead pressed against mine.
He felt the water, never letting me go. That was just how strong and big and amazing he was; he kept me cradled in his arms like he didn’t want to lose one minute of his skin against mine. “You like it hot?”
I nodded.
His eyebrows rose. “It’s about to get a lot hotter for you, baby.”
We tore at each other’s clothes until we were, for the most part, naked, and as he lowered me inside the shower stall, my legs wobbled. He lowered his pants and his boxer briefs together, leaving me gazing with hunger at his beautiful, hard, muscled body. In one swift move, he joined me. The steam filled the room, casting us in a dreamlike haze as he caged me within his impressively muscular frame and his mouth descended on mine in a ravishing kiss. Desire flickered through me as he swept down, covering my breast with his mouth to suck it.
“I love your tits,” he murmured, nipping one with his teeth until I cried out. “They’re so fucking pretty and goddamn responsive.”
I arched my back as he squeezed and sucked it to a hardened point. He licked his way up the hollow of my throat, to the tip of my chin. He nibbled and bit at my lips, one hand grabbing my hair as the other slipped between my legs. He rubbed the pad of his finger over my aching clit and I squirmed against him. The sensations lit up my body, and I raked my hands down his strong back, feeling the coiled tension in his shoulders as he rubbed me, slow and maddeningly with his fingers.
“Fuck me,” I whispered against his damp skin, smelling him, wanting all of my senses to drown in him. “Just take me now, right here.”
“It’s the plan. But not now, or here.”
I pouted. “Why?”
“No condom,” he said, dipping his head and kissing the shell of my ear, as I realized how I’d very nearly forgotten. I was a protection girl. How fucking mindless could this guy make me. “Just take this for now.”
The pleasure was mind-boggling. Once again, he primed me so easily that I was almost embarrassed at how fast I came. He didn’t do anything more than brush against my cunt, alternating firm pressure and feather light touches as I whimpered. I ran my hands down the smooth contours of his chest, my insides clenching, tightening, exploding with so much pressure that I gasped, falling against him. The orgasm was electric, bolts of lightning zapping straight to my toes.
“Drake . . . oh fuck.” I could barely stand. I slumped into him, wobbly. Why did he make my orgasms so deliciously intense like that? Like heaven and earth were moving around us?
He put a finger on my lip, quieting me. I was shuddering, my muscles slowly relaxing, turning me into melted butter.
As I came down, he guided me under the stream of warm water. He became comforting, running his big hands through my hair, spilling sweet-smelling shampoo into his palm and lathering my hair. I let the water rinse away the suds as he went for a bar of soap. I closed my eyes as I felt his hands rubbing everywhere, stealing my breath away.
He spread my arms and slid the soap up into my armpits, between my legs, into the crack of my ass, working methodically, clinically, like a doctor. His body bulged in all the right places. His torso glistening and wet, his nipples erect with excitement, his beautiful cock hard and ready. He excited me so much I felt my mouth salivating for it, but when I tried to touch him, he nudged my hands away. He lathered himself quickly, half-out of the stream of the shower, and continued to keep the attention on me, being careful not to miss a spot.
I wasn’t sure of this feeling, because I’d never felt it before.
But it felt like he was worshiping me. Taking care of me.
Or maybe he was just assessing all my bruises and welts, like a good doctor would.
“What are you doing?” I asked timidly, my pulse going a thousand miles a minute as I looked up at him.
“Gazing at perfection,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile. He reached out to cradle my cheek in his big hand, cupping it gently, despite all the calluses.
I almost leaned into it. Almost believed. But then I remembered who he
was, who I was, and that fantasy burst in my head. He probably said that to all the women he fucked.
“If I was perfect, I wouldn’t have all these bruises,” I said, my voice a feathery whisper.
Powerful emotion crossed his face and his body tightened. Rivulets of water slid down his square jaw, clinging to his eyelashes as he stared at me, tucking a wet strand of hair behind my ear. “Some people want to fuck with perfection, because it’s so rare they don’t know what to do with it,” he rasped. “No one will fuck with you on my watch. Not even Slade. Your daddy comes after you or your mom again, and he’ll pay for every goddamn bruise he gives either of you with one from each of my brothers. I’ll make sure of it. You got it?”
I nodded, even though I knew his promise was empty. No one could watch me twenty-four-seven. The only person who’d come closest to doing that was also the one responsible for breaking me apart.
Chapter Fifteen
Drake
I’d used up every last bit of my restraint in the shower. Gazing at Cait’s beautiful body, watching her as she trembled and came against my hand, it was all I could do not to hold her against the shower wall and take her. My cock was hard as a steel rod and ready for her as I wrapped a towel around my waist. I put another one around her, then lifted and carried her to my bed. Setting her down in the center, I dried her arms, her tits. I lifted her legs to dry them, and she let out a little gasp when I moved the towel between them.
“Lift your head,” I said, sitting down next to her.
She did, and I wrapped the towel around her hair, soaking up the excess water. She asked, “How did you get so good at doing this?”
I shrugged. “When I worked for Doctors Without Borders after I left my residency, I was in Africa. We had a minimal staff and had to be our patients’ everything; orderly, nurse, doctor. I had to do it all.”
“You worked in Africa?”
I nodded, dragging my thumb along her jaw. “Only a year. It was when the Ebola crisis was out of control there and they needed doctors, so I went.”
“You are very good at what you do,” she said, lifting up onto her elbows to be closer to me. She leaned in and ran a finger down my collarbone, then kissed my shoulder, licking up the drops of water there. She dipped her head and licked at my chest, and I smelled the scent of soap and shampoo. My cock was throbbing by the time she pulled the towel from my hips, lust thick in her eyes. “But now I just want you to fuck me.”
I reached into the night table and pulled out a condom, slipping a hand under her and rolling her onto her stomach. “Like this,” I commanded in her ear, setting my forehead at the back of her head and kissing her shoulder, rubbing my cock along the crack of her ass. She let out a gasp that said she agreed.
I rolled on the condom and pushed inside, pulling her to the edge of the bed by her hips, holding her on my cock for a good, long time so I could just feel her warm, tight pussy. Her hair fell down the sides of her face in wet ropes, covering her cheeks. I gathered it together so I could see her. See her eyes closed, her face flushed and full of smoky arousal that turned me on all the more.
I pulled on her hair, urging her head up so I could bite on her neck, her shoulders. She let out a gasp of disapproval as I pulled out, running my cock along the crack of her ass before sinking in deeper. This time, she met my thrusts, showing me how much she wanted this. How much she wanted me.
That did it. I grabbed her hair with my fist, turning her head, slamming my mouth onto hers as I felt my orgasm fast approaching. She rocked her hips back against me, and I rammed into her and came, a roar erupting from my throat as her body jerked underneath me. I clenched my hands around her hips, holding her still against me as she came, her pussy clenching around me.
I pumped her, again and again, as long as she continued to come, the tremors seizing her perfect body.
I slipped out of her and she rolled over, a cautious look on her face. “Why did you want to see my tattoo again?”
I pulled the condom off of my dick, tossed it in the bathroom trash, and climbed in the bed beside her. I said, “Because I want you to know that I don’t care. You might have that tattoo, but it isn’t you.”
A small smile appeared on her lips. “My dad made me get that, when I was sixteen. He wanted to brand me. I screamed the whole time. Which is why I never got another one.”
I lifted the pillow against the headboard, slipped next to her and pulled her warm body up to my chest. “Brand you? Jesus. He’s fuckin’ wacko.”
She nodded and traced the tattoo on my left hip. “I didn’t notice the cobra here,” she said. “You don’t have a million tattoos, like most guys.”
“Just one. In a moment of drunken madness and solidarity with my boys,” I said, leaning my head back against the headboard. “I grew up seeing some pretty fucked up shit with my dad. It made me appreciate the perfection of the unblemished human form.”
She looked up at me. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen enough people who would just kill to be normal. My father is a surgeon in L.A. He used to focus on reconstructive surgery, so people who’d been in accidents or kids with birth defects. He did amazing work. Gratifying work. Worthwhile work. He was my hero; the reason I wanted to be a surgeon,” I said. “But a few years ago, he went and sold out. He went where the money was. He’s now Hollywood’s most famous plastic surgeons, specializing in breast implant surgery.”
She raised her eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yeah. Wanted me to join his practice. But fuck that. I didn’t get into medicine to make money, especially giving boob jobs to the Hollywood elite. I got into it to help people. I thought he did, too. But I was wrong. So when I got back home from Africa, I decided to take the time out to think, ended up here with my brothers, and never looked back.” I shrugged, rubbing the pad of my thumb over the soft skin of her shoulder. “My dad gave me a quarter-life crisis, I guess you could say. When you find out your hero is a piece of shit. You know?”
“I know exactly what you mean,” she said.
She didn’t say it, but I could tell from the way she’d teared up earlier, talking about her dad in the old days. Slade was her hero. And look what the bastard had done to her.
I traced my finger along a yellowing bruise on her upper arm. My father had disappointed me, and I’d walked out of his house and never turned back, over four years ago. But as I lay there, I thought I should probably give him and my mother a call. They were still family, after all. And looking at Cait, I knew there were a lot of shittier hands I could have been dealt.
Chapter Sixteen
Caitlyn
I dozed off in Drake’s arms, and when I woke up, the sun was sinking in the sky, the light glistening over the Pacific in the distance.
I thought of my mother, my pulse spiking when I pictured my father, his open hand raised above her. I cringed, thinking of every one of the horrible bruises my mother had endured at his hands.
Then I looked at Drake, and my breathing calmed a little. He was easily the only thing going right in my life right now.
And I’d slept next to him. Since when did I ever actually sleep with a guy? Since when did I ever give a guy a second chance? Usually I’d leave in the middle of the night without a word, always moving onto the next thing, never giving anyone the time of day. And I’d never had any problems with it.
But with Drake, I couldn’t resist. I was drawn to him, compelled to be near him. It wasn’t just the offer of protection. It was everything. He was so deliciously sexy, sweet, hot, smart, everything. He turned my body into one massive electric charge.
Reluctantly, I disentangled my arm from his and put my palm flat against my heart to keep it from beating out of my chest. I didn’t even know Drake, maybe all those electric feelings were just lust.
But whatever I was feeling for Drake didn’t matter where Slade was concerned. Drake had touched me. And he was a Cobra.
That made him a dead man in Slade’s eyes.
; Drake might have thought he could protect me, but I understood why Slade’s men cowered before him. He’d earned that plenty of times over. Maybe Drake just didn’t know what he was up against, that he was walking into a snake pit.
I didn’t know Drake that well, obviously, but I couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to him because of me.
Taking a deep breath, I slipped out of bed, found Drake’s t-shirt in the pile of discarded clothing in the bathroom and put it on. It smelled so good, masculine and enticing, making me want to curl my body around him and just bathe in him for a little while. But I had things on my mind.
I went to my phone and saw a text from Martie: Don’t worry about me. I made it home fine. Thanks for all your help. Bitch.
And then another: You are alive, aren’t you?
And one last one: OMG, please tell me you didn’t go home with a guy who chopped you into little pieces and now you’re in little baggies in someone’s freezer.
The last text pulled a laugh out of me. That was Martie; her mind always spiraled out to the absolute worst conclusion. I quickly texted her back: I’m ok. I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up. Not chopped up. Glad you’re ok. Will tell you later.
Then I put in a call to my mother, my fingers shaking as I gripped the phone. When I thought for sure it would go to voicemail, someone suddenly picked up. “Hello?”
“Mom!” I cried out, pulling the phone closer to my mouth, as if I could hug her through it. “Oh! Are you okay?”
“Cait. Sweetheart. Where have you been?” Her voice sounded strong. Maybe a little tired, but not too bad. She always sounded chipper, even during her darkest moments. It was the reason why I loved my mother so much. Tears sprang to my eyes.
“I’m sorry. I had some crazy things happen to me last night. I can’t tell you. But, are you all right?”
“I’m okay, sweetheart. It’s nothing I can’t handle. Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I got held up. I’m so, so sorry. I really tried to be home on time. But I got caught up and I’ve been so worried that I . . .” A sob caught in in my throat.
