Tug (15 page)

“I don’t doubt you can take care of him, but I want to help. A full-time nurse will make room on your plate for a new friend.”

Her posture stiffens as she attempts to pull away. I hold tight and try not laugh. She makes a strangled sound and glares at me.

“That’s why you did it? So I would spend time with you?”

I smile and tilt my head to the side. “Maybe I was hoping.”

Her jaw shifts, and she frowns. “Thank you for making me feel like a prostitute yet again.”

She wants me to get angry and give up. While she succeeds in pissing me off, I’m not about to give up. “What did you say?” I ask calmly. I know exactly what came out of her mouth, but I’m curious if she’s brave enough to say it again.

“You heard me!”

“I didn’t ask you to fuck me in exchange for my gift! My doing something nice for you makes me happy.”

“As long as I spend time with you?”

I hear how insulted she is by her tone, but her body cues her willingness to forgive me. “You want to spend time with me.”

“I do not!” She scoffs. “I don’t even like you.”

“I don’t like you, either.” I grin.

“You’re so arrogant. Get this through your thick head — I don’t want to be friends with you.”

I reach up and brush the pad of my thumb over her lips, pushing sideways until they part. “Oh, sweet girl, I don’t want to be friends with you, either.”

Her eyes narrow. “Perfect, we aren’t friends. Now let go of me.”

The chemistry between us is charged to the point of exploding. The glint of desire in her eyes confirms her mouth is lying. “Can you feel that?”

“No.”

I tilt my head back and laugh. “You’re a terrible liar. I know you feel it. I can see your hard nipples through your shirt.”

“So?”

“You want me. Let’s stop avoiding the inevitable. Your brain may be saying no, but your body is screaming yes. I’m sorry for what I did. I know I have to earn your trust, and I will, but right now, I want to take you to my bed and worship your body the way I should have the first time. I’m going to make love to you, and when I’m done, we aren’t going to be friends. We’re going to be a hell of a lot more.”

“I can’t.”

I run my lips along the edge of her jaw, stopping at her ear. “You can,” I whisper.

A moan leaves her lips, and I seal my mouth over hers. Our tongues clash and fight for control. The kiss is fiercely aggressive, filled with pent-up sexual frustration and emotional anger. It’s a powerful kiss that nearly buckles my knees. One of her hands combs through my hair, fisting and pulling, while the other works my cock through my slacks. I groan into her mouth and lift her into my arms, her legs securing tightly around my waist. Her lips never leave mine as I walk to my room.

Her legs fall from my hips. She sits on my bed and urgently pulls at my belt. I’m so hard it’s painful, but I refuse to rush through this like I did the first time. I grab her hand and tell her to lie down. She falls back, and I stand over her. “You’re going to enjoy this.”

She smiles shyly and turns her head to the side, the color in her cheeks embarrassment this time.

I slide her jeans slowly over her hips and down her legs. She’s not wearing panties, and I nearly lose it. “You’re seriously trying to kill me.”

She smiles bashfully, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Her butt rests at the edge of the bed, her feet just above the floor. I drop to my knees to pull her jeans from her ankles. My hands roam slowly up the backs of her calves, stopping behind her knees. I push them apart and slide my palms up the insides of her thighs. She gasps loudly as two of my fingers slide through her folds and sink inside her until my palm rests tightly against her clit. I slowly withdraw my fingers and glance up at her.

“No, you don’t like me at all,” I say teasingly, watching her eyes grow big as I lick her moisture from my fingers.

My head lowers, and I position myself between her thighs.

“Oh, God, yes,” she cries out the second my tongue makes contact with her clit.

With one finger, I ease back inside her. She’s dripping wet and I push higher, knowing I’ve found the spot I’m looking for when her hips buck from the bed. Her hands fist handfuls of my hair. I insert another finger and find the spot against her front wall again. Her hips rock against my hand, trying to pull me in deeper.

My dick begs for attention, but this moment is about pleasing her. Her hands move to her breasts, gently pinching and rolling her nipples between her fingers, and holy hell, my will to pleasure her first nearly dissolves.

My tongue moves back and forth over her clit while my fingers continue working the spot inside her. Her body jerks subtly, and her nub tightens under my tongue. I bite down gently on her clit, and a cry of pleasure leaves her mouth.

“I only have so much control. Come, sweet girl, before I give up and fuck you hard.”

Her hips thrash wildly as I draw her clit between my lips and suck. Her legs clamp around my face as she succumbs to the climax. I lift my head but keep my fingers inside her, enjoying the tightening as she clutches at my fingers. Her head tips back, exposing her neck. She bites down hard on her lip. When her body relaxes, I slowly remove my fingers. I prowl up her frame, splitting her thighs, and look down into hooded, satisfied eyes. I love that I’m responsible for the fulfillment gazing up at me; her expression one I want to see over and over again.

My fingers brush over her lips, and her tongue darts out to lick them. I shove the two that were inside her into her mouth, and she sucks them clean.

“See how good you taste.”

Her moan is one of surprise. She bites her lip again but doesn’t answer. I shove her shirt up, and she yanks it over the top of her head. She lifts from the bed and unclasps her bra. I slide it down her arms and toss it to the floor. Her breast are full, her soft pink nipples perfection. I lick them both, covering them in shiny moisture, and notice that the ink covering most of her left side, as well as her left shoulder, is as beautiful as the rest of her skin. The intricate artwork holds as many secrets as the woman.

The room is suddenly scorching. I reach up and grab my shirt, ripping it off over my head and tossing it to the floor. She runs her fingernails down the front of my chest until she finds my belt. It, along with my pants, is undone quickly, and she shoves my pants and boxers down my legs. I help her remove them and settle my body over hers, absorbing the warmth of our combined chests. There are emotions sweeping through my body that I’m not certain I want to be here. A sharp pain shoots through my heart, like a warning that she’s here to punish me for all the women I’ve taken advantage of and used. It’s too late. This girl is intoxicating. Feeling isn’t something I allow myself to do when I’m with a woman, but I’m doing it for her, to show her she can trust me. I only I hope I can trust her, because I’m seriously afraid she’s going to walk out that door when this is over and disappear from my life.

Her hand presses into my cheek “Hey, what are you thinking about?” I shake my head and reach down to kiss her. She turns her head. “Tell me.”

“I want this to work.”

She smiles, a beautiful, sincere smile. “Me, too,” she says, and lifts her head, sealing our lips together. This kiss is slow as we explore one another’s mouths with our tongues. This kiss is reassurance, a commitment to try, an emotional kiss with a promise she won’t run. Or I’m blinded with desire and it means nothing; either way, there’s no going back. As I push inside her, I choose to believe we’re two flawed people who found each other at just the right time in our lives.

Maria stretches her hands above her head. I hold them in mine, pushing in and out of her with a deliberate, steady rhythm. I’m ready to explode and I still, wanting the moment to last, to stick with me when she leaves. She lifts her hips, wrapping her long, gorgeous legs around my waist, and I move again, knowing I won’t last long. My pulse quickens as I feel tingling in my groin slowly spreading down my legs. My dick spasms in anticipation of climax, and I stop moving. I want her to go first. I want to feel her compress around me, hear her breathe my name.

“Oh, God,” she breathes. “Don’t stop.”

“Just one second,” I pant.

Her fingernails dig into my ass and I lift my hips, slamming into her hard. I grind into her until I feel her shudder around me, and I slow my pace. Her body goes limp, but she keeps her legs around my waist. I increase my rhythm again and feel the warm sensation below my balls. They tighten, drawing up into my sac. Pressure mounts at the base of my dick, surging forward along the shaft toward the sensitive tip as I harden further. Maria slams her hips upward, meeting mine. At that moment, I feel in control, the world around me completely clear. With each powerful thrust, sweat drips from my forehead into my mouth. As I pound into her, the buildup sends a jolt of violent pleasure up my spine and causes an explosion in my balls. I stiffen as my orgasm consumes me, the moment so fucking perfect. I hear Maria moaning loudly, but everything else is a fog of bliss. My shoulders shake as I release into her, losing all control and blocking out any thought other than the incredible sensations rocking my body and my feelings for this girl.

I collapse on top of her, groaning incoherently into her neck. She threads her fingers into my hair with one hand, while her other lightly draws circles on my back. I want more. I’m addicted, and the thought of her leaving snaps me back to reality. I lift my head and gaze into her beautiful eyes.

“Tell me we aren’t friends.”

She giggles, the sound reassuring. “We definitely aren’t friends.”

I try to put on a serious face. “Good, because I don’t like you.”

She sticks her tongue out at me. “I don’t like you, either.” She lifts her head and whispers in my ear, “But I do like the fucking.”

I groan. “And I like your dirty mouth. A lot.”

She winks and kisses my cheek.

I roll to my back and bring her close to me, positioning her against my side where she fits perfectly. Her cheek is warm on my chest. I trace a finger over the tattoo on her arm. It’s an Indian girl with an expression as sad as Maria’s often is. “Tell me about your tattoos.”

“My mother was half Indian,” she says dismissively.

“That isn’t telling me much.”

“There’s not much to tell, Tug. I was young and naïve and trying to figure out who I was. At that time, the tattoos expressed who I thought I wanted to be. Now they remind me of who I don’t want to be.”

She’s still young, and her answer holds far deeper meaning than she intended it to. I squeeze her tight.

“They’re beautifully done.”

“Yeah, there’s some kick-ass tattoo artists in the ’hood. Unfortunately, there are some seriously jacked-up people, too.”

She clearly doesn’t want to talk about “the ’hood,” and I drop it. When we met, she’d tried hard to project the strong, “don’t mess with me” type, but underneath her hard exterior is a softer, mild-mannered, and vulnerable woman. And I can’t wait to peel away every layer and discover who she really is.

“What about you? What’s with the name Tug, and why did you tell me your name was Ryan?”

“Same reason you used Monica at the club. I didn’t want you to know who I really was.”

“And why do you only allow certain people to call you Tug?”

“It’s a stupid nickname I picked up as a kid, and it stuck. I allow my family and close friends to call me Tug.”

She peers up at me. “You let me call you Tug, and we aren’t friends, remember?”

“Oh, and I let dirty-mouthed girls I don’t like call me anything they want.” I’m totally using sex as a distraction. Talking about me won’t end well.

“Hmm. Anything? What if I want to call you ‘asshat,’ or ‘fuckwad,’ oh, or ‘needle dick’?”

I reach up and grip her face in my hand, inserting my thumb into her mouth. “If you choose to call me ‘needle dick,’ it won’t be my thumb in your mouth.”

She sucks hard on my thumb, releasing it with a
pop
.

“And how’d it start?” she probes, going back to the discussion about my dumb nickname rather than acting on my hint of a request for a blow job.

“For someone who doesn’t enjoy the third degree, you’re sure good at dishing it out.”

She suddenly looks sad. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was a difficult subject for you to talk about.”

I sigh. She’s taken my teasing seriously, and now to ease things over, I’m forced to talk about myself.

“I’m the youngest and used to tug on Liv’s and Tori’s shirts all the time. They hated it and started calling me Tug. No biggie.”

“You’re the youngest? I would have guessed Liv. You seem older.”

“Don’t tell Liv that. I have a photographic memory and can do math in my head. I was two grades ahead in school. Liv hated that everyone thought I was older than her.”

“So, you can remember everything?”

“Pretty much.”

“That’s kind of awesome.”

“Sometimes, as a kid, not so much. As a teen I was only cool because I was Brady’s brother and did all the homework for the football team.”

“And as an adult?”

“It’s useful. I came up with an algorithm at work that made our company a fortune and launched Gibson into the global market.”

“Your life is amazing.”

“Hardly, but it’s improving.”

I watch realization dawn over her features. “Me?”

“Most definitely you,” I say, kissing her forehead.

“You know what?” she asks in a flirty voice, her eyes glancing at my crotch as she climbs on top of me. She drops kisses on my chest and moves lower, her hair tickling my chest. She peers up at me seductively. “I do like you, needle dick.” I push her head lower, keeping my hand tangled in her hair. Her mouth seals around my cock as round two begins.