The Firefly Effect (4 page)

Now I've got her writhing in pleasure beneath me while I suck those perfect pink nipples into hard little pebbles.

This is too damn good to be true.

“
Please.
”

It’s the first word she's let slip, and the whispered plea is far more than any red-blooded male could deny. I slide my hand beneath the pillow to retrieve the condom stashed there, cursing the fact that I only have the one.

Better make this sucker count.

But I know the instant I slide into her tight, slick heat, there’s no way I’m going to last long. She is pure nirvana and my horny cock is banging on the gates of paradise. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on moderating my thrusts, slowing them to a gradual rhythm that’s sheer torture for me. The fact that she’s clearly getting off on this is shredding what's left of my self-control.

“
Fuck
, baby,” I gasp, and her fingers tangle roughly in my hair as if she can’t get close enough to me.

In spite of my attempts to slow things down, it seems like only a matter of seconds before she reaches the brink. Her thighs quiver against me and the shuddering cries of her orgasm send me chasing her straight over the edge. Unable to hold back any longer, I drive my length as far inside her as I can get, again and again, hammering that hot little pussy fast and hard as the climax I’ve kept at bay encompasses me and I come like I’ve never come before.

Oh, sweet mother of
fuck
...

That's it. So long, world. I've died and gone to heaven.

Waves of intense pleasure ripple through me for a surprisingly long time, draining me dry, until every nerve ending in my body is painfully sensitive and I'm completely and thoroughly depleted. Pulling away from her just long enough to remove and tie off the condom, I shift my weight to squeeze beside her on the sofa, holding her close. Her body is pressed so tightly against mine, I can feel her every breath.

And I wait.

I wait because I know if I give her enough time, at some point she’s going to open up with the obligatory
I’ve-never-done-anything-like-this-before, what-must-you-think-of-me
speech. And I am really looking forward to that. To hearing her try and come up with an explanation for this…insanity.

But no, she's not that predictable. Instead of stammering a string of insincere excuses like I expected, she simply presses her cheek against my chest and I feel the soft breath of a sigh. I drop a kiss on top of her head, inhaling the sweet, fruity scent of her hair.

And for a while, neither of us says a word.

I could get used to this.

Eventually, however, I figure it's about time to come back down to earth. One of us has to break the ice here.

Guess it’s up to me to break out the ice pick and start chipping.

Brushing back her hair, I clear my throat and say in a low voice, “That’s one hell of a way to make a man feel welcome, Melanie.”

She lifts her chin to gaze up at me. Her smile is shy but genuine, and it occurs to me that this is the first time she’s ever smiled at me like that. Other people, sure. Me? Oh, hell no. Shane Becker was never worthy of a smile. Not like this.

And then the dreamy afterglow in her eyes seems to cloud over with suspicion as something suddenly occurs to her.

“I never told you my name. How did you– oh! Leah must have mentioned it, right?”

I hesitate, wondering how much my sister has told her about me. “Leah?”

“Yeah. You’re her brother, aren’t you?”

I can't help it. A wicked smile creeps its way slowly across my face.

“You don't remember me, do you?”

~ Chapter Five ~

“Shane Becker?!”

Jerking bolt upright, I stare at him in open-mouthed dismay, not even bothering to disguise my look of horror and disgust. He can't be serious. He can't be! I mean, this has to be some kind of joke, right? No way this is happening. No way he could possibly be...
him
.

As much as I want to deny it though, the more I look at him, the more I see it. And now that I think about it, I realize that's why he seemed so familiar to me. Not because of the photograph, but because this man, this beautiful stranger I've just had incredible sex with, is none
other
than him. Shane the Pain. My erstwhile mortal enemy. Biggest braindead fucktard to invade and defile the halls of Crestview High.

He looks…well, I have to admit he looks different.

Oh dear God. I just let Shane Becker have his way with me.

I want to die.

But first I probably need a flea bath and a lot of disinfectant.

Jumping to my feet, I do my best to cover the strategic areas with both hands while glaring at him angrily. I think it’s the smile that pisses me off the most. That smirk that implies he knows he’s got the upper hand. I’d like to knock that smug grin right off his face. That asshole sonofabitch thinks this is funny!

I don’t find it amusing in the least. On the contrary, I’m mortified enough to start screeching at him like a banshee. “You have got to be fucking
kidding
me! Shane Becker? Are you – what the hell are you even
doing
here? How'd you get in?”

He looks at me like I’ve just asked him to draw a diagram explaining where babies come from. “With the key. I do own this house, you know.”

“Then you
are
Leah’s brother?” I relax, but only slightly. So far none of this is adding up. I don’t remember the Pain having a sister, not that I ever really knew anything about his personal life. And Leah’s last name is Whitfield, not Becker.

“Stepbrother, technically. But yeah.”

Ohh. Well, I guess that makes a little more sense. “I had no idea. I mean…she mentioned a brother, but she never told me your name.” It’s becoming very clear to me now why she always referred to him as Butthead.

“So I gather.” Raising an eyebrow, he casually tucks one arm behind his head. He doesn't seem the slightest bit embarrassed that his goods are laid out on display.

“Okay, fine, so we’ve got that cleared up. Leah is your stepsister, and believe me, for that she has my deepest sympathies. Now how about explaining to me just what the fuck you’re doing here! Didn’t she tell you she rented this place to me?”

Pausing, he gives me a probing look, and I get the feeling he's considering lying. But surprisingly, he doesn’t. “Yeah. She told me.”

“Well? Do you normally just bust up in on your tenants in the middle of the night?”

The dark eyes roll upward. “First of all, it’s hardly the middle of the night. It was barely even dark out when I got here. Second of all, I didn’t bust up in anywhere. I didn’t see a car in the driveway, so I figured no one was home. I just came inside to wait.”

No car in the driveway? Oh, that’s right – I pulled it around back yesterday so I could use the hose to wash the splattered love bugs off the windshield. Still…

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here in the first place.”

He regards my awkward stance with a wide grin. “Little late for modesty now, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

I’m so pissed off my words come out in a furious sputter. “Oh, you are the most…you’re the most…you’re just despicable!” Spinning around, I storm off towards the bedroom, deliberately slamming the door behind me.

Whatever else happens, I’m going to make sure that pompous prick never has the opportunity to see me naked again. Resisting the urge to scrub myself raw under a scalding hot shower, I pull on a pair of sweatpants and my thickest, bulkiest sweatshirt. Then I march back out to the living room to interrogate him.

He's not there.

Believe it or not, I find him in the kitchen making himself a sandwich. Thankfully he's pulled his jeans back on but his chest is still sans shirt. It's hard not to stare. Clearly he knows how good-looking he is and doesn't mind putting it all on exhibition.

“Oh, don't mind me, just make yourself at home,” I tell him sarcastically.

He grins as he slathers spicy mustard across two slices of bread. “I usually do when it’s my home. You hungry?”

My God, he's infuriating! “No!”

“Really? Hot sex always makes me hungry.”

“Super. Good to know. Information I totally needed. Thanks so much for sharing.”

“Just sayin'.” Now he's stacking roast beef and lettuce on the bread. “Sure you don't want one? A little fuel for round two...” He cuts his eyes sideways at me and they twinkle devilishly.

Round two?
Does he seriously think I'd ever let him touch me again, knowing who he is? Shaking my head incredulously, I glare at him. “Are you freaking insane?”

“Me?” He snorts a crude laugh before slapping the sandwich together. “You just admitted you had no idea who I was. Do you normally get it on with random strangers? Is this some kinda fetish with you or something?”

I struggle to maintain a cool composure, but inside I'm seething. “What I do or don't do is none of your business. Now if you're not going to tell me why you came here, I'd appreciate it if you'd take your ass on down the road.”

“Wasn't just me, sugar.”

“Excuse me?”

“I wasn't the only one who came here.” With a lazy wink, he inhales half the sandwich in one bite and turns to wander back into the living room.

For a split second I wonder if he's brought someone with him, then I realize he's just being crude. Frustrated, I follow on his heels. “Let me rephrase the question. Did you have a specific reason for com– ah, for being here or did you make a special trip up from hell just to stalk me?”

With his mouth full, he informs me, “Not from hell. Tennessee.”

“I don't really care
where
you came from – I'd just like to know how soon you're going
back
there!”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Elliott.”

By now I'm starting to wonder how much prison time I would get for castrating him. Why is he being so difficult? And who the bloody hell is Elliott?

Between clenched teeth, I very patiently ask, “Would you care to elaborate?”

Swallowing, he wipes his hands carelessly across his jeans. “Hurricane Elliott.”

I shake my head, not comprehending.

“Don't you pay attention to the news? There's a hurricane out in the Gulf of Mexico. Should be making landfall within a couple of days.”

“What –
here?
” I had no idea the storm churning around out there had strengthened. Well, to be honest, I'd kind of forgotten all about it. Tropical disturbances are nothing new for this time of year.

He gives me a look of disbelief. “It’s forecast to head in this general vicinity, yeah. How could you not know that? Where've you been?”

I won't dignify that with a response. He's just trying to make me feel stupid. “So what are you, a storm chaser or something?”

“I came down to make sure the place was secure. In case we do take a direct hit.” Flopping down on the sofa, he reclines and props his bare feet on the arm as if he intends to hang around for a while. “It's a category one right now, but expected to strengthen to at least a three before making landfall.”

Category three? Okay, I'll admit that's a little worrisome, but right now I have scarier things to contend with. Like dealing with the devil in my midst. “How long will that take?”

“For it to strengthen?”

“No, for you to...uh, secure the house or whatever you have to do.”

“Not long.” Folding his hands behind his head, he smirks up at me. “Don't worry, Felony baby. I'm not leaving anytime soon. We'll have plenty of time to catch up.”

Catch up?

He must be out of his mind. Catching up with him is the last thing I want to do.

From the moment we first locked horns, I knew I hated Shane Becker.