Ocean (Damage Control Book 5) (29 page)

“I’ve got you,” I tell her, my voice lost in the rushing in my ears. “I’ve got you. Let go.”

She grips my shoulders, arching against me, crying out as she comes again—clenching around my junk so hard I lose my last shred of control.

My thrusts lose rhythm. Everything sparkles. My balls pull up. My cock jerks.

And I come. So fucking hard I start to shake, moaning her name, then swearing as I empty myself inside her, pulse after mind-blowing pulse.

The fire shoots down my spine all the way to my toes, and then back up to my head, until every wrenching ripple of pleasure has me convulsing, my head hanging forward, my breathing ragged.

Holy fuck.

A moan escapes me when I attempt to unglue myself from her, my cock still hard, still deep inside her, and her pussy sucks it in, her inner walls massaging it.

Another wave of pleasure rocks me, and I make a strangled noise in the back of my neck. I’m shaking so hard my ribs are killing me. It’s a battle to regain control of my limbs and not fall on top of her.

I gently pull out of her and sit back on my heels.

A move I regret instantly. Ow fuck, my ribs. I wrap an arm around them, gritting my teeth while I slowly straighten my back.

She’s panting, still kinda arched, her upper body still clothed, her nipples hard and her pussy glistening and rosy.

And I’m still hard. For her.

Jesus, this girl. She’s killing me.

She sits up as I try to catch my breath and ignore the pain. Face and tits flushed a deep pink, beautifully naked, she gets up, distracting me yet again as a fresh wave of arousal goes through me.

I watch her round ass as she vanishes into the kitchenette and returns with a glass of water and painkillers, which I swallow gratefully.

She then takes the glass away, places it on the coffee table and straddles my lap. Damn, she’s a sex goddess. She kisses me, long and deep until we both gasp from lack of air, and she cups my face.

“Whatever it is you’re planning to do tomorrow, I’m coming with you.”

“No, Kay. No fucking way.” I shake my head for emphasis. “You can’t. Told you, it’s dangerous.”

“Assuming there’s really no other way to get what you want, any non-dangerous way…” She does that thing where she bites her full lower lip and has me panting with desire. “Then I’m coming with. To look after you. To help you. I’m with you, and that’s what you do for people you love.”

I’m with you.

Just that, and my last defense crumbles to dust.

***

She’s waiting. She’s stroking my face, her sexy curves pressed to my body, trapping my hard-on between us.

I need to be inside her again, urgently, but she’s right. I have to tell her.

No more secrets. No more walls.

I drag her closer. “I’m going to race tomorrow. Mom’s treatment is costing an arm and a leg, and without the insurance covering her, I have to find that money. So I told Duane that I’ll race his car.”

She stiffens, draws a sharp breath. “You’ve done it before. You said you used to race.”

“I did.”

I can practically hear the cogs turning in her pretty head. “It’s dangerous. Because of the speed.”

Can’t deny it.

Fear clouds her bright eyes.

“You’re already hurt,” she says. “Your ribs may be cracked. You could shatter them. You could end up in the ER.”

I wince at the prospect. “Let’s hope not. I have to do this, Kay. There’s no other way to get that much money on short notice.”

“Can’t you ask Zane for a loan? An advance on your salary?”

“It’s a lot of money, sweets. And I may still have to do it, if I don’t win the race.”

“Don’t do it. I can’t bear the thought of anything else happening to you.” Her eyes are a soft gray in the low lights. “I’d worry to death.”

“I’m sorry.” And I mean it. “I can’t think of another solution.”

I wait, my stomach a hard knot. Please, God, don’t let this drive her away from me, not when I just found her. Not when she says she’s not blaming me for the past, and she loves me.

Goddammit, I knew love wouldn’t be enough.

But as I watch the emotions flit over her face, I see fear fading into thoughtfulness, then determination.

“I’m driving you there.”

I open my mouth to say no, then close it again. It’s just… “This is illegal business, Kay. And if you’re seen there, you could get into trouble.”

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about staying safe and coming back to me.”

Holy shit, the things she says… they’re like heroin, addicting me faster than anything I’ve ever tried.

“I can’t ask you to be mine,” I say quietly, because it’s fucking tearing me apart that I can’t. “Not while this is going down. No matter how much I want it.”

“But I
am
yours,” she replies, just like that taking my heart in her hands. Her eyes are clear like a summer sky. “I’ve been yours from the start. Though, illegal car races are kind of lousy as first dates go, I have to say.”

A chuckle escapes me, then the meaning of her words hits me, and my breath catches. “I’ll make it up to you,” I joke, but it comes out strangled.

God, this girl…

“You’d better,” she whispers, then moans when I slip my hand between her legs, stroking her seam, teasing her clit. “Oh crap, Blue…”

“I love it when you say my name,” I say and enter her again, making love to her until we both pass out on the sofa, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

Kayla

It’s late when I wake up in his bed. I can barely remember when we moved there from the sofa. I’m pretty sure I remember him taking me on the table, and on the rug, before reaching the bed. I smell of sweat and sex, and I’m sore down there.

It’s a good soreness. It reminds me that he was inside me many times. That he said he loves me. That he wants to be with me, and the only thing holding him back is the uncertainty of his situation right now.

The car race.

God.

Fully awake now, I grab one of his T-shirt that’s lying on a chair—it smells like him, and my sex gives a knowing throb—then I slip into the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth with a glob of toothpaste on my finger.

Feeling marginally better, I wander into the living room and then the kitchenette from which an aroma of fresh coffee is wafting.

Can’t believe I stayed at his apartment, in his bed. That he told me everything. And when I enter the kitchenette and find him standing there in a faded black tank top and loose, low-slung sweats, it becomes even more real—and more surreal.

This boy is hot as hell.

Then he turns around, smiling when he sees me, and his eyes go a deeper blue. “Morning. “Coffee?”

I nod absently, watching his strong, long-fingered hands as he pours me a cup. The patterns they drew on me, in me, last night… I shiver.

“Sleep okay?” He leans back against the counter, planting one bare foot against it—and damn, that’s sexy, too. He has sexy feet, strong, with high arches.

I’m in too deep. As if I didn’t know.

“Kay.” His smile is gone when I focus on his face. “What’s the matter? Changed your mind?”

“What?” I blink. “About driving you today?”

He lowers his mug and stares into it, then shrugs, his mouth turning down in an unhappy shape. “About being with me.”

Is he serious?

“You can’t switch off love,” I inform him, willing him to hear the truth in my voice. “Nor would I want to.”

He looks up, his gaze intense. Whatever it is he’s searching for in my expression, it seems he finds it, because his shoulders relax, and he shoots me a brilliant smile that makes my heart melt.

Then he puts down his mug, and the predatory look on his face sends me back a step before I realize what’s happening. “Um. What are you doing?”

“You have three guesses.” He takes the mug from my hand, puts it on the table and presses me up against the wall. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“I don’t…” He buries his face in my neck and bites lightly. “Oh God.”

“Your time is up,” he informs me, pulling on the neckline of the T-shirt and leaving a hot trail of kisses. “By the way, you look hot in my T-shirt.”

“I do?” My mind is full of white noise as he kisses his way up to my jaw and nibbles at my earlobe.

“Yup. And you’ll look even hotter out of it.”

I’m starting to get an idea of what he has in mind, especially when he drags me away from the door and toward the counter where he was leaning when I entered the kitchenette, his hands on my hips, his hard-on pressing between us.

“Been dreaming of this,” he breathes, sliding the T-shirt up my thighs, revealing my trimmed sex, my belly button, my boobs until he’s tugging it off me. “Of waking up with you, of touching you like this.”

I’m not the sort of girl to walk around naked, especially in the light of day. Crazy or not, let’s face it, daylight isn’t always kind to a body that isn’t supermodel thin and toned. I have curves, oh yeah, baby, hips, and ass, and boobs, and this super-hot guy has only seen me naked in the soft light of his bedroom so far.

But he did say he wants to be with me, and the way his gaze is raking up and down my not-so-perfect body is scorching.

“God, Kay…” he murmurs and puts his hands on my boobs, then trails them down to my hips. “You’re beautiful.”

And I don’t say anything, my throat closing up. He makes me feel beautiful, every time, with every look and every word.

Then I squeal when he heaves me up on the counter, a wicked grin curling his lips. He presses up between my legs, presses that impressive hard-on against my throbbing sex, and leans in to lick at the seam of my lips.

He kisses me and kisses me until I moan and open up for him. With his tongue he traces my lips, strokes along the roof of my mouth, tangles with my tongue, sending lightning bolts of pleasure into my core.

Blindly I paw at his T-shirt, wanting it off, and he draws back to oblige. Slowly he takes it off, and the tightening on his face tells me the problem is his ribs, not that he’s making a show of it.

It doesn’t matter. It is a frigging strip show, one any girl I know would have paid a month’s salary to watch. His mouthwatering abs appear first, then his strong pecs, and Jesus, when he stretches up his arms to pull the shirt off, heavy biceps flexing, I have to bite on my lip not to moan.

He drops the T-shirt and steps between my legs again. I trail my hands over his tattoos, the snake on one side, the skull on the other, the angel on his arm.

Now I know it all. I see it all. I see who he is, and I love every part of him.

Impatiently I tug on the waistline of his sweats, and he lets me, putting his hands on my waist and giving me a crooked grin.

The sweats catch on his hard cock, and I tug harder, freeing it. It swings up, slapping him on the stomach with a wet sound, and his breath catches.

Mine, too. I push his sweats down, and they fall around his feet. He kicks them away and grips his cock, giving it a few long strokes, his gaze going distant and hazy.

“Now.” I put my hand over his, and he grunts. “Inside me.”

“You’re not ready.” He looks down, between my legs, where I’m naked and exposed to him, and strokes his other hand there, parting my seam. “Oh fuck, you’re so wet.”

“I’m ready. Ready for you.”

Or I think I am. Because when he groans and bumps the head of his cock against my opening, then pushes into me, when he sinks deep, all the way, his mouth going slack with pleasure, I’m not prepared for the tug on my heartstrings, or for the impossible, indescribable heat that spreads through me when he fits so perfectly inside me. When he fills me up so completely, in every way.

And that’s before he starts moving. When he does… Oh holy crap, I can only hold on for the ride as he slams into me again and again, his mouth crashing on mine, devouring me, his tongue thrusting between my lips like his cock is thrusting inside me.

I can’t… I don’t… Shit, I’m going to come. How does he do this, making me come just by shedding his clothes and putting his cock into me?

It’s just everything about him, turning me on. By the time he touches me, I’m halfway there, and I…

God, oh my God!
The pleasure ricochets through my body like a flaming bullet, and I scream. I actually frigging scream as my core pulses and my breasts tingle and my toes curl and my nails dig into his broad shoulders. I’m coming, and coming, and I think the pleasure’s never going to end.

“Goddamn,” he hisses, his hips slamming into me, his cock jerking, and heat floods my pussy, triggering another mini orgasm on the heels of the one barely ended.

“God,” I moan, rocking against him, my feet pressing into the back of his muscular thighs. “So good.”

“Yeah. Fuck.” He’s still spilling inside me, his hips still jerking, one hand braced on my hip, the other on the counter. “So damn good.”

The shockwaves finally ebb away, leaving me trembling. I wrap my arms around him, rest my head on his padded shoulder, and he buries his nose in my hair. His heart is pounding against mine.

We stay like that for a small eternity, trying to catch our breath. I try to pull away, but he tightens his hold on me for a moment longer.

“Now,” he says, muffled in my hair, “I’m ready to race.”

***

He may feel ready, but I don’t. I watch him as he gets dressed. He’s showered—in fact, we showered together, and let’s just say we had to shower twice, because the first time turned into him making me come with his fingers and then pounding into me until we both collapsed on the shower floor.

I stand at this bedroom door, nervously shifting from foot to foot. I’m already dressed, while he had to shave. Watching him shave was also sexy.

It’s a fact. Everything this guy does is sexy. He could be changing a light bulb or taking out the trash, and I’d still be drooling. In fact it’s all I can do right now not to climb him like a monkey and start all over again.

Christ, I really don’t want him to go to this race. I keep stroking the screen of my cell phone, keep thinking to call and ask someone for—what, help? Their opinion? Money?

“The T-shirt I made for you,” I say and lick my lips as he sits on the bed to pull on his biker boots.