Against The Wall (7 page)

A strangled cry broke from her throat, but she managed to keep her big gray eyes on his, staring down at him over the pale, smooth skin of her stomach, the silver hoop in her navel glinting in the soft light, while her short nails dug into his naked shoulders.

One hand held her open, his other pulling out from between her legs to clutch tightly against her hip, his fingers biting hard enough to bruise. His head went lower, and he gave her one long, delicious lick that started at her vulva and ended in the soft stroking of his tongue across her clit again. And still she managed to hold his dark-eyed stare. Then he drew the throbbing, swollen knot of her clit into his mouth, nibbled with his teeth, gave it a gentle suck, and her mind fractured, thoughts spiraling out of control.

“Damn…shit…oh damn it,” she gasped, panting, and the sound of her desperation sent him right over the edge. With a deep, feral growl, his eyes closed and his mouth opened completely over her drenched cunt, taking all of it. His fingers had slipped away only to be replaced by the rough stab of his tongue as his face pressed into her, going deep as if he would crawl right up inside.

He kept her spread wide, his fingers hard, his body shuddering from the sight and smell and taste of her. All his senses were in complete, utter, catastrophic breakdown—a meltdown into total oblivion. The tiny mouth of her cunt nestled in that soft, pussy-pink flesh was quivering, gasping for him, as rivulets of pearly, syrupy sweet juice began streaming from the tiny slit.

Fuck. How in the hell was he ever going to fit in there? He’d rip her or tear her, when he’d rather die than cause her pain—but then, he’d die if he didn’t get inside of her too. Shit, this was a nightmare and a friggin’ fantasy fuck all rolled into one. He felt so raw, stripped of skin and muscle until there was nothing but this aching need for her that speared straight into his bones. His breathing came so hard and fast, he couldn’t hear anything but his own violent whoosh of air; knew he wouldn’t hear her if she begged him to stop, and still he held her open, pressed wide, exposed and vulnerable and his to do with as he pleased.

So utterly…undeniably his.

“Do you have any idea what I want to do to you? How bad I want to fuck you? How much I want to cram myself into this sweet little cunt, packing it full until you’ve taken every damn inch of me? Do you, Shea?”

His answer came in a low, keening sound of need that ripped from her throat, and before him, just a fraction from his mouth, her cunt gushed with cream until the satiny juices were gleaming down the insides of her pale thighs, dripping back into the little valley between the rosy cheeks of her beautiful ass.

Oh, fuck it, he couldn’t take this. Before he could remember any of the things he knew about finesse and seduction and sex, his mouth was covering her again, his tongue shoved deep, spearing into that sweet hole, tongue-fucking her as if his very life depended on it. And damn it, maybe it did.

He was locked into her, ready to eat his way through, his mouth and tongue sucking and stroking, drinking her down his throat like fine wine. For the first time in his life, Ryan was locked into a woman’s pussy, not because of ego or sense of fair play, but because he’d go mad if he didn’t have her taste in his head. He wasn’t breathing now, wasn’t sure if his heart was even still beating, but he was eating her as if he couldn’t live without the taste of her in his mouth, drawing sustenance from this grasping slit.

His face pressed into her, his throat working, and he pushed up harder against her slippery flesh. Closer—hell, he had to get closer. His head angled for a tighter fit. His fingers bit into the soft swell of her ass, holding her up, angling her so he could get even deeper, and…oh, God, he was there…just drinking her in…his tongue hitting the perfect spot over and over and over. She closed around him, milking his tongue, pulling it into her convulsing sheath, and he pressed harder, his entire face buried in the sweet humid warmth of her cunt.

Now he could hear her raw, screaming cries of release over the roaring in his ears. She came long and hard and heavy, flooding against his face, into his mouth, and he just kept going. He couldn’t stop. It’d taken him over, like some primal, primitive force trying to draw him into this woman forever. He felt like a drowning man who’d surrendered himself to the currents. Hell, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to pull his tongue out of her without dying to shove it right back up this hot little cunt. He’d never be able to look at her and not remember her taste, not think about doing this again and again. Never think about her and not want to go down on her more than he wanted his next breath.

Oh, shit. He had to get the fuck away from her! Now!

Shea trembled against the wall as he quickly pulled back, stumbling to his feet a safe distance away from her naked, gleaming body that was wildly flushed and so obviously ready. His head was spinning and he knew the look in his eyes was wild, his features drawn tight in a hard scowl, which she’d see as soon as she managed to open her eyes.

The tiny spasms of pleasure that remained shuddered through her body, quivering through her muscles, flowing through her blood. Okay, she thought. Mmm…wow. That was sooo not what she’d expected. His tongue—so soft, yet rough—gentle, yet hard. A small smile broke across her face with the thought that if fucking him was as good as this had been, then she was setting herself up for a really big addiction. The pleasure pumping through her was definitely a narcotic, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that it was going to be more than painful if her plans failed here tonight and he walked away from her.

She filled her lungs with a much-needed gulp of air, knowing she’d avoided looking at him long enough. She opened her heavy lids, surprised, not to mention severely disappointed by the look in the dark blue eyes staring back at her. Well, hell. She may have limited experience when it came to these things, but she was fairly positive that the look on his face was not a good sign.

There was just a flash of a moment that she thought she was going to cry, just break down and bawl like a friggin’ baby after the events of the night, but she pulled it together in time, pleased to find that she had more backbone than that. She used it to hide the frustration in her as best she could, knowing on some weird, instinctual female level that he’d pulled away from her in more than just the physical sense. No, she wasn’t going to get her chance after all, and to be honest, she’d rather go without than have him take her with that strange look on his face, as if he didn’t know whether he wanted to kiss her or kill her.

Some dignity would be good at a time like this, not to mention some clothes, but she thought it’d look too ridiculous to go bending down for her dress at this point. Whatever chance at modesty she’d had was long gone by now, so she straightened her shoulders and tried for as much bravado as she could muster. Then found she could muster pretty well.

“Well, I’ll, um, just say thanks I guess and go get my shower. If it’s not too much trouble, lock up on your way out.”

Praying her legs wouldn’t give out and land her flat on her face, she walked to the bathroom, still wearing her silly sandals. She didn’t take another breath until the door was safely locked behind her. Without listening for the sounds of him leaving, Shea turned on the shower, stepped beneath the hot spray, and washed the evidence of the last fifteen minutes away as best she could.

Too bad she had a feeling the memories were going to last a lifetime.

Fuck. Ryan couldn’t believe he’d panicked and just let her walk away! What the hell was the matter with him?

Shit, he’d never had his two heads cause such a big friggin’ problem in his entire life. Thinking and sex did not go together, end of story. So then why did she have him so twisted up in knots he couldn’t keep even that simple fact straight? Damn woman had him going out of his mind!

Now she was in the shower, after delivering her cool dismissal, while he stood rooted in place, his cock about ready to climb up his body and strangle him for screwing this up—and his mind still reeling from the emotional assault she’d made on him.

He needed to get it together before she came back out, because no way in hell was he leaving her alone. He might be scared shitless of the way she made him feel, all desperate and needy and like a keg of dynamite just waiting to blow, but he wasn’t such a prick that he was going to leave her by herself tonight.

And if his dick was snickering, knowing his motivation was a hell of a lot more than honorable, he did his best to ignore it. He may have screwed up his chance to fuck her tonight, but Ryan knew they weren’t done. Not by a long shot. He just had to figure out how to get inside of her without doing something really stupid and falling—

No!

No. Fucking. Way!

Damn it, he wasn’t even going to think it.

Needing a quick distraction, Ryan searched out his discarded shirt, slipped it over his head, and began the stubborn task of trying to hide his cock behind his fly again. After some careful maneuvering, he finally got the damn thing put away, but no way in hell was it hidden, leaving a long, highly noticeable ridge from the base of his zipper all the way over to his left hip. But, at least it was no longer poking its head out, begging for attention.

That taken care of, Ryan collected the shattered pieces of the lamp she’d crashed over Spalding’s skull, dumping them in her kitchen rubbish bin. Then he figured he might as well take the opportunity to get to learn more about the woman turning his entire world upside down, and since the water was still running, he started a slow walk around her bedroom.

For a guy with really rugged taste, he was kinda surprised how much he liked it. It was feminine, but not frilly, with books crammed into every available space and thick, scented candles decorating every surface. A case packed full of CDs caught his eye on the other side of the room, standing next to her dresser which had her sound system on top, and he walked over for a quick look, interested to know what kind of music she was into.

His eyes scanned the titles, and he snorted. Huh—it figured. There were rows and rows of alternative rock, along with countless classical compilations and operas, for crying out loud. But then he finally found some Stones, and Pink Floyd, and The Who, so maybe there was hope after all. She didn’t have any Springsteen or Clapton, but hey, he could always remedy that later on.

And whoa—what in the hell was he talking about now? Where did this shit keep coming from? Jesus, it wasn’t like they were getting ready to play house or anything. He just wanted to fuck her, not move in with her!

The water was still running, and he was quickly looking for another distraction when her phone rang. Not thinking twice about it, Ryan walked over to her bedside table and lifted the receiver, muttering, “McCall,” into the mouthpiece.

“Uh…Ry? Is that you?”

Well, shit.

“Yeah, Hannah, it’s me. What’s up?” he drawled offhandedly, suddenly realizing his mouth was still wet from going down on Shea. He wiped his face against his shoulder, trying to ignore the very un-ignorable taste of her cunt in his mouth, coating his tongue like sweet, addictive syrup.

Damn it, why hadn’t he kept his stupid shit together and nailed her while he had the chance? If screwing her was half as good as eating her, it was something he definitely didn’t want to miss, no matter how uneasy she made him.

Shit, he grumbled to himself, realizing Hannah was talking into his ear and he hadn’t even been listening. “Damn it, Ryan, are you—I mean, you are at Shea’s place, right? My Shea—as in my best friend?”

“Hmm. Seems that way,” he replied silkily, suddenly angry with Hannah for telling Shea about Red’s. Not that he wasn’t happy with the consequences now, considering he was still reeling from her flavor, but Shea could’ve been seriously hurt because of their scheming—and to top it off, he didn’t care for the tone of Hannah’s voice. “Shea’s in the shower and I’m just waiting for her to get out. You got a problem with any of that, Hannah?”

His oldest friend laughed her husky, throaty laugh on the other end of the line. “Uh, no need to sound so surly, Ry. I’ve been trying to get you two together for months now. I just, ah, hope you know what you’re doing. I mean—Shea’s not the kind of woman you play around with.” And despite her sweet tone, there was a wealth of warning in her words, reminding him of that mean streak she’d had before her ex-husband got his hands on her.

He was almost happy to see its return—just not at this particular moment in time. Refusing to let her put him on the defensive, he clipped, “You mean she’s not like the usual women I pick up at Red Mackey’s place?”

Ryan could almost hear her grimace over the connection. “Oh God, she really went there tonight, didn’t she? What happened? Is she okay? Damn it, I told her to wait until I got back.”

Instead of answering her string of questions, Ryan asked one of his own while pacing the length of the bedroom. “What the hell were you thinking, sending her to a place like that?”

“It’s not like I had planned for her to go by herself. I was going to make her take me along as backup.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t there, and neither was I,” he muttered angrily, the terror he’d felt when he’d heard Shea’s muffled screams twisting him into knots all over again. “But the bastard who broke into her apartment tonight sure as hell was.”

“Oh shit,” she gasped, voice hollow with fear. “Tell me she’s okay, Ry. I knew something was wrong. I knew it! That’s why I’m calling so late. I went to bed early tonight, but I woke up with the worst feeling a moment ago and had to call.”

“Derek and I took care of the asshole before he was able to do much more than scare the hell out of her.” And damn it, his hands were suddenly shaking just thinking of the few strikes Spalding had gotten in.

Ryan wanted to go down to the station and knock him on his drunken ass all over again. Shit, what he really wanted was to beat the guy to a bloody pulp for laying his filthy hands on his woman, and it had him burning with anger that he wasn’t going to be able to do just that. He should’ve kicked the crap outta the bastard when he’d had the chance.