Текст книги "Shattered Ink"

Автор книги: Laura Wright

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 3 страниц)

Addison

I’m lost. In him. In his tongue and his teeth, his mouth and his breath, and the way he whispers my name between every kiss as we practically stumble out of the airport and over to where he’s parked his bike.

I know we’ve got to separate at some point to get out of here, get home, but my entire body’s on fire, screaming at me to find a dark corner and just unzip.

I feel cool metal against my hand as Rush rips his mouth from mine. We must be here. In the parking garage. And hey, there are lots of dark corners. But before I can suggest it, Rush lifts me up with a growl and places me on the black leather seat. Breathing heavy, my lips already deliciously swollen, I watch as he straps my bag onto the back of the bike. Every inch of my skin is vibrating and I’m squeezing the black leather with my inner thighs. I’ve never felt so manic. Like if I don’t get my hands on him soon, feel his hot, hard, inked skin against mine, I’ll lose my sanity.

So much for my plan to keep it cool.

“Stop looking at me like that, Addison,” Rush warns, grabbing his helmet.

I smile innocently. “Like what?”

His green eyes liquid fire, he leans in, close to my ear. “I can’t fuck you here. Too many people. Too many cameras.” He licks the shell of my ear and I shiver deliciously. “And no one sees you come but me. So, sit tight, baby. I’m taking you home.”

He slips the helmet over my head, then climbs on in front of me. For just a second, I take him in. My badass boy with the combat boots, ripped jeans, faded black t-shirt, oh-so sexy disheveled hair and plentiful ink. That beautiful ink I dream about every night. That ink wrapped around my body. I shiver again. All the way down to my toes.

“Arms around me, baby,” Rush calls, starting the engine.

He gives me less than a few seconds to do as he says before ripping away from the space and hauling ass out of the parking structure. He’s such a skilled maniac, the way he takes every curve and slides in and out of lanes. I love it. I get off on it.

We’re just merging onto the freeway when my insides calm down enough to enjoy the ride and the desert wind on my skin. Shit, could I move here? Live in Las Vegas, in the desert, with him? Yes, I could. I know that. I want that. But does he? Does he understand that if we did that, things would be crazy for awhile? That I’d be job searching for weeks, maybe months while I worked temp jobs to pay for an apartment? Because I’d be paying for my own shit. Or…would he fight me on that? Like he fights me on the plane tickets? And if I gave in, would that screw with our dynamic?

I roll my eyes inside my helmet. I’m getting way ahead of myself here. He hasn’t asked. He hasn’t even mentioned it. Maybe he’s content with this…seeing each other when we have time. Flying in and out, weekends when it’s cool. Maybe I need to just stop this head trip I’m on and enjoy my time with him.

Rush takes a hand off the handlebars and places it over mine, which are tightly wrapped around his waist. The move, the contact of his skin on mine, completely unravels me again. And as Rush exits the freeway and hits the two lane road that leads to his house, I inch closer, press my breasts against his back and squeeze my thighs around his hips. I feel him inhale sharply. Around us, the pink sun is going down, and without thinking, my right hand abandons his waist and starts to descend.

“Addison.” I hear the warning-laced call on the wind, but I’m barely registering it. I want him so badly I can’t see straight.

He groans as my fingers brush lightly over the top of his burgeoning erection. I want it. I want to slip my hand inside his jeans and make him as hard as the red rocks around us.

“Baby, I’m going to crash,” he hollers back, his voice strained.

I know. I hear him, and I know what he’s saying is true. Shit, I know what I’m doing is totally freaking dangerous. But I don’t care. I swear to god, I want him so bad I don’t care if we crash.

What the hell is wrong with me? And how can I make it stop?

With a hard jerk to the right and a squeal of tires, Rush pulls off the road. I curl into him, holding on tight as he speeds into the desert, hauling ass until he spots a large palo verde tree about quarter mile out. He guns for it, and once there, jerks the bike to the right, then brings it to an abrupt, dust-clouded stop before killing the engine. He’s off the thing in two seconds. Has me on my feet in one. And rips off my helmet with a curse and look so fierce, I shiver and erupt into flames.

“That wasn’t very smart, Ads,” he says, unbuttoning the top of his jeans.

My breath catches in my throat. “I know. I’m sorry.”

His mouth twitches, but the humor doesn’t reach his eyes. He sends his zipper down a few inches. “No you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not,” I say as he moves closer until his body is flush against mine. “I want you. I’m not going to apologize for that.”

He leans down, kisses my top lip super gently, then bites it.

I hiss and my belly clenches.

“We’re not making it home, Ads. Not like this.” He reaches for me. Quick and easy, he unbuttons and unzips my jeans, his fingers moving downward. “I’m hard and you’re…” He fiercely cups me through my jeans. “Wet.”

I groan and push against his hand. Hell yeah, I’m wet. I need him so badly, need him to touch me, put me out of my misery so I can think clearly again.

“I’m going to have to fuck you right here, Ads.” His eyes meet mine. “Is that what you want?”

I can barely breathe. “Yes.”

One eyebrow lifts. “Anyone could see us.”

I shake my head, lick my dry lips. “I don’t care.”

He grins. “Shit, baby. We could get arrested.”

I grin back, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard it’s painful. “Then you’d better hurry up and get inside me.”

“Oh, that’s a great answer.” In one effortless move, he flips me around to face the bike, then hooks his thumbs inside of the waistband of my jeans and sends them to my ankles. “Perfect answer.”

The cool desert breeze blows across the skin of my legs and ass as he bends me over the leather seat of his bike and kicks my feet apart as far as the denim will allow. I’m dying. Fucking dying to have him inside me. I hold my breath, every inch of me so sensitive that when he does touch me, when he slides my thong aside, when I feel his hand moving down the seam of my ass, then slowly—oh-so erotically slowly—entering me with one long, thick finger, I convulse.

Rush lets out a groan and holds me steady with his free hand. “Oh, baby, you’re so wet.” He inserts a second finger and drives it up all the way up to the knuckles. “How long have you been like this?”

Breathing heavy, nipples beading, fingers digging into the leather seat, I manage to utter one word. “Hours.”

He pumps me slowly. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt you this wet.”

“I tried to take care of it on the plane.”

“Where?” he demands.

I feel his cock against my ass. It’s hard and warm and ready. “The bathroom.”

Rush stills, then spreads his fingers wide inside of me, stretching me. It’s delicious, and I moan. “Did you touch yourself, Addison?”

“Yes.”

He slips his fingers out of me and finds my clit. When he brushes over it with his thumb, I gasp and clench. “Here?”

God, I’m going to die. “Yes.”

“Did you stroke yourself? Pinch yourself?”

My nails dig into the leather seat as he does both with his clever fingers. “Yes.”

“Did you come?”

I shake my head. I can’t breathe or focus.

“Good.” The head of his cock is right against my opening now. I arch my back, silently begging him to fill me. “You won’t do that again. Got it, Addison? I make you come. Only me.”

Without waiting for a response, he pushes inside me. Not all the way, just an inch or two. “Unless I’m watching.”

My eyes fill with tears. I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my life. “Rush, please!”

“In fact.” He slips in another inch, then two. “When we get home, you’re going straight to my room.” He pulls out, and I cry and let my head drop forward. “You’re going to get naked.”

“Yes, yes, please Rush, I can’t—”

“You’re going to get on my bed.” He slams into me, so hard and so deep I gasp for air, grip the bike to hold myself steady. “You’re going to spread your legs so wide I can see every inch of you. Then you’re going to fuck yourself.”

His hands clamp around my hips and he thrusts inside me with deep, wonderfully punishing strokes.

“But right now, baby, I’m fucking you.”

My brain is a blank screen, and my throat is only allowing moans and sighs and cries to escape. Under the slowly darkening sky, with the sounds of the wind, and the traffic in the distance, Rush works me over, his hands splayed on my ass now, his thumbs opening my cheeks wide, so he can get inside me even deeper. It’s heaven, and I never want it to end. But my body is betraying me. The build started the second I saw him with that sign above his head at the airport, and the cocky grin on his face when he saw me. So when leans over me, gets close to my ear and whispers, “I love you awful, baby,” I break. My walls contract around him, my legs shake and I cry out into the night-blooming desert.

Rush curses and squeezes my hips. He stays by my ear as he pounds into me. He whispers my name over and over as he too lets go. It’s been so long since we’ve been together. For a week, our skin, our tongues, our insides have been running on memory and withdrawal. We needed this. Quick and hard and wherever we could find the space.

Rush doesn’t linger inside of me. Night’s coming on fast now and I’m getting cold. With gentle hands, he pulls my jeans back up, even zips and buttons me, then handles himself before straddling his bike and gesturing for me.

“Get on, Addison. We need to go home.” His sexy, jade-green eyes heavy with lust, he revs the engine at me. “That only made me want your ass more.”

I don’t need to hear anything more. I’m his. Whatever he wants, and whenever he wants it. I yank on my helmet, then settle in behind him, my arms wrapping around his waist. He takes off back toward the road, kicking up desert dust, and I realize that for the first time in a week, I can finally breathe right.

Rush

So we’re playing this game, are we? Follow the Leader? Not what I had planned. Not until much later anyway. But shit, I wasn’t kidding when I said that quickie back on my bike was a tease.

As I stalk her, passing through the kitchen I see the table all set for dinner. I know there’s a kickass meal staying warm in the oven. I know because I ordered it, and told the chef who made it to be gone before I got back. I wanted her alone. Wanted to eat with her alone.

My boot nearly collides with her bra. It’s the bright pink one, no lace, all satin, and I instantly reach over and turn the oven off. Oh hell yeah, we can eat much later.

My eyes flip up and catch her nearly at the door of my bedroom. Completely naked from the waist up, that compass rose I inked between her shoulder blades looking all sexy on her perfect back. She glances over her shoulder at me and gives me a smile. I go after her, panting dog that I am, and catch her up in my arms just inside my bedroom. She squeals, but quickly sinks into me when I press her back against the door and kiss her. God damn, her skin feels like hot satin under my fingertips. I run them up her spine and groan when she shivers. I feel the heat off her pussy against my waist, and I want her. Now. Just get her in my bed and keep her there till we’re both drunk on each other. But that’s not the game we’re playing. And I’m kinda dying to see her alone on the king size, legs spread, fingers doing what my aching dick wants to be doing.

With a pissed-off, hungry-as-fuck groan I release her and walk away, head for the chair near the bed. “Don’t keep me waiting, Ads. I’m in no goddamn mood to wait.”

Standing there in nothing but her tight jeans, her small waist v-ing upward to two handfuls of utter heaven, her eyes go kinda wide with surprise. Like maybe she didn’t expect me to follow through on what I told her would happen when we got home. Like maybe she thinks I don’t have the control. Shit, baby, I barely do.

“You want to see all of me, Rush?” she asks as she unbuttons, unzips and steps out of her jeans, nice and slow. I stare. Like the pig that I am. Her body’s a fucking wonderland. Yeah, I know the song is bullshit, but it applies here. It applies to her. My baby. She’s just all creamy skin, and dangerous curves my fingers are dying to wrap around and manipulate. But ultimately, it’s the thong, that scrap of pink fabric she’s removing as I stare with my fucking tongue hanging out of my head, that really makes my dick weep.

The thing is soaking wet.

My mouth waters and I lean forward in my chair. She’s naked now. Just the way I like her. Well, naked and on top of me, or under me, or straddling my face.

“Lie down, baby.” My voice is pretty gruff, but I’m running on fumes here. Don’t know if I can make it through the entire peep show without coming in my pants. But hell, I’m going to try.

“All alone?” she asks, puffing out her lower lip enticingly.

I nod. “And all the way back to the pillows. But your eyes stay on me, yeah?”

“Always.” She smiles at me. Sexy and sorta innocent too. She climbs onto the bed, and very slowly starts crawling on all fours toward the pillows.

My cock screams at me. I don’t know how but the thing can see her, can see her ass and the pink, glistening lips of her pussy. It’s torture. The sweetest kind around. When she turns and lies back against the pillows, her nipples are as hard as my dick, and my mouth is fucking begging me to just shut this stupid game down already. Fly at her and bury my head between her legs until tomorrow. Instead, I rip at the button of my jeans and yank my zipper down.

Her eyes drop, and when she catches sight of my cock she licks her lips. Damn girl, why you gotta do that?

“Now what?” she asks, knowing full well how insane she’s making me, and loving it.

“Spread your legs, baby.” My nostrils flare as I try to smell her. “Yeah, that’s right. Let your knees fall to the side. Let me see you.”

She does everything I ask, her eyes never leaving mine. She’s bold, this girl. It’s one of the many things that drive me wild about her. She’s got balls, no fear, no embarrassment with me about her body or going as far as either of us want to.

“I want your tight, pink tits in my mouth, Addison,” I say, letting my dick spring free, knowing come is leaking from the head and not giving a shit. “Show me. Use your fingers and show me what my tongue would do to you.”

She groans as she brings her hands to her breasts, squeezing, massaging, then pulling back to pinch the tips. Fuck, I’m dying here. I’m trying to act cool, like a badass, but all I want to do is devour her.

“Now take one hand,” I tell her a little roughly. “And slide it down between your legs. Put two lucky fingers inside yourself and feel how wet you are.”

Her eyes close as she runs her hand down her flat belly to her shaved pussy. Christ. I lick my bottom lip, bite the fucker, anything to keep myself in check. I’m going to be having motherfucking wet dreams for months after this. I don’t want to be sitting here. I want to be licking at her, sucking on that swollen clit she’s showing off.

I watch as her middle and index fingers slide between her wet lips, then disappear into her sex. She moans and not only spreads her legs wider, but lifts her knees to her chest.

“Fuck, Ads,” I breathe.

She opens her eyes and pins me to my chair with the hottest, hungriest look ever. My heart is jacking against my chest, pre-come all over the head of my dick.

I growl out the words. “Now taste.”

She stops, her fingers so deep inside of her, it’s nothing but knuckles. “What?” she asks breathlessly.

“You heard me.” I stand up, cock out, and move to the edge of the bed. “Take your fingers out of your pussy and put them in your mouth.”

I watch, insane, as she does exactly what I say. But when her fingers leave her pussy and head for her mouth, when her juices coat the rim of her hungry, waiting lips, I’m done. I rip my clothes off, toss my boots at the wall so goddamn hard I’m pretty sure they make a mark. Then I lean across the bed, grab Addison by the hips and yank her to me. I’m on my knees just as her tight, hot pussy reaches my face. I use my thumbs to spread her wide, then lap her up like ice cream. She tastes like fucking sunshine and I devour her. I know it might be too fast or too hungry, but I can’t help myself. As she writhes and humps my mouth, I suck on her clit, then flick it with my tongue. When I feel her tense, feel her getting close to coming, I ease up a little, flatten my tongue against her ridge, and just let her ride me.

And motherfucker, she does. Crying out, crying my name, she bucks and rubs herself against my mouth and chin, and comes.

“Rush!”

“Already here, baby.” I’m up and over her, pushing us both back on the bed. My thigh spreads her knees wider, and I slide into her tight, wet pussy and groan. She’s still coming and my dick swells with the extra attention.

Positioned deep inside of her, I balance on my elbows for a sec and look down into her sick beautiful face. Those eyes…the green one that nearly matches my own—the one that belongs to me. Seriously, this girl is mine. She’s gotta be. There’s no going back. Just forward.

“I love you, Ads. You know that right?”

Her eyes shift between heat and softness, and she nods. “Course I do.”

“You happy here? With me?”

“Yeah. Always.”

Something stabs me in the heart, some kind of warning or fear. I don’t like the two-word answers. It’s so not her. Why isn’t she telling me she loves me back? Again, not her. And why does she look all uncomfortable answering my questions? What the fuck…

I groan because she’s moving beneath me now, stealing my brain, bitch-slapping my concern. And well, shit, I’m only human. And a dude. And her body is my goddamn wonderland.

“God, you feel so good,” she utters hoarsely, raking her nails up my back. “You make me feel so good, so happy.”

It’s enough for me. It’s something. And when she wraps her legs around my waist, I kiss her, hard and deep. Just like my thrusts. My hands get tangled in her hair, and for minutes, hours, who the fuck knows, we just pump each other and say naughty shit that makes us laugh, but gets us off, too. It goes on like that until we both come. Then, like always, we wrap ourselves around each other and stop talking altogether. Cause it’s off to dreamland, folks.

Addison

I’m completely disoriented when I wake up. At first I think I’m back in my apartment in Santa Barbara. Then my eyes adjust to the weak morning light filtering in through the windows, and my skin registers the warm, hard muscle against me. I shift in his arms, careful not to wake him, and rest my cheek and chin on my palm. This is kind of my thing, lying here in the morning and staring at him while he sleeps. Seriously, I know. I have issues. But he’s so beautiful. Lying on his back, covers off, and I get to inspect every inch of him. From his feet, his hard calves and lean thighs, which are lightly sprinkled with hair, to his cock, which is at that halfway point to hardness I love so much. My mouth waters as I contemplate waking him up the old-fashioned way.

He stirs, and my gaze drifts to his hip bones. They rock my world, so bitable, so perfect to grip when I’m doing that old-fashioned wake-up thing. His stomach is truly six-pack heaven, covered in tongue-tracing ink, but not in a bodybuilder way. Just deliciously lean. And then, you know, there’s the face. The face that caught me back when we were idiot kids, and the face that never left my memory bank when I fucked up and he bolted. Now it just makes me equally love him and hate him because I can never get enough of it.

Maybe I’ll kiss him first. Just once. Those lips are calling to me. Then I’ll head south. My gaze drops once again, but this time, instead of seeing where we are in the woody department, it comes to a halt on his right hand. At first I’m not sure I’m seeing correctly. Or maybe I’m still asleep. My heart swells inside my chest a little as I follow the line work down his thumb. He’s inked my name in his skin. He’s inked my name into his skin? How didn’t I see that yesterday?

Oh, I don’t know, my brain razzes me. Maybe because you were acting like a lunatic. A sex-crazed lunatic who was desperately afraid her man would bolt if he knew how far over the moon for him she was.

Needing a moment to process, I slip out of bed and put on one of Rush’s t-shirts. The sun is starting to rise for real now as I walk into the kitchen, and I stop for a second to bask in a particularly warm pool of it near the table. I love this room. It has killer light, and a view that makes you want to stare out the glass for hours. I check out things in the fridge, then follow an amazing scent to the oven. Ahhh, he had dinner waiting on us last night. Well, we’re just a few hours late. No worries.

I start pulling stuff out and placing it on the already-set table. It’s a pretty fancy to-do with all the crystal and copper and silver, and I feel kind of bad we didn’t get to experience it with the moonlight streaking in, and that breeze he gets here.

He inked my name into his skin.

I hold on to the back of the chair and just say that again in my mind. And he told me he loved me. Clearly he wants me in his life for longer than a hot minute. So what’s my problem? What’s my fear?

Strong arms encircle my waist, and hard cock through thin cotton boxer briefs presses against my barely-covered ass. “Don’t do me like that, Ads.”

His breath on my neck sends tiny shards of heat straight to my well-worked-over bits.

“I have to wake up without you all week long. It fucking sucks.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He chuckles softly against my neck. “No apology needed, baby. Just a promise, all right? And you know I’ll make it worth your while.”

I smile, and those shards of heat turn all electric inside my pussy. I glance down, see his right hand splayed on my stomach. See my name there. For good. For always. The thing screams up at me. The dude loves you, idiot. Stop with the cold play and tell him how you feel. Tell him just how crazy he makes you. How weak and vulnerable you feel when you guys aren’t together.

I sink back into him, gently grind my ass against his dick.

“Awwww, damn,” he says on a quick intake of breath. “Can’t. Fucking want to so bad. But can’t.” He turns me around and kisses me hard and hungry. When he pulls back, he looks like a sullen teenager. “I have a short day today at the shop, but I have to go in early.”

I give him my most seductive look, which is really just a sort of pout-plus-eyelash-batting thing. I’m pretty sure it’s not very effective. “You sure?”

He kisses my nose. “We have a guest artist. She’s booked all day, and I need to open up and do the owner thing.”

“Does she do tats?”

“Piercings.”

“Oh. I might like that. Maybe my nose or my eyebrow.”

For a second, I swear I see a flicker of panic cross his features, but then I blink and it’s gone. I chew my lip thoughtfully. “Course I do need to go on interviews after graduation. Maybe I should wait.”

He nods. “You should always think through any changes to the body.” His brows lift a fraction and he whispers, “Especially your body.”

I reach down for his hand, the right one, and lift it up for us both to see. “Did you think this through, Rush?”

He doesn’t look at it—his hand or my name. His eyes are locked to mine, and they’re pretty heavy with affection. “Every damn day you weren’t with me, baby.”

This is it. The perfect moment, if that even exists. To tell him. Right now, while we’re stuck together and our stomachs are making strange-ass noises because we haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. But I don’t want to rush things either. I know he’s got to go. But—and this is really inside my head now—I also know he’s coming back.

His hand still in mine, I lead him over to the table. “Sit down. You gotta eat before you go.”

“Fine.” He watches as I fill up his plate, then grabs a fork. But when he notices I don’t take the seat beside him, he frowns. “Aren’t you hungry, baby?”

I nod. “Starving.”

“Then come.”

As he stuffs a piece of naan into his mouth, I pull my t-shirt up over my head, then toss it somewhere behind me. Fork in hand, Rush stares at me, watches me as I walk over to his chair and kneel down in front of him.

“The only one coming this morning is you,” I say, slipping my fingers into the waistband of his black boxers and easing them down just enough so that I can take care of business.

As I wrap my fingers around his cock, I glance up at him. His nostrils are flared, and the veins in his neck, even under all that ink, are popping. But he’s still holding the fork. I lean in and run my tongue from thick base to wet tip.

“Think you can do two things at once, Merrick?” I ask, then take him slow and deep into my mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans as metal fork hits hardwood floor. “No.”