Page 36 of Hell Bent (Portland Devils #5)

UNDER CONTROL

Sebastian

Ben headed off to bed, and Alix said, “The rug’s not too bad, fortunately, but the floor— Paper towels.”

“I’ve got it.”

She wasn’t listening, of course. She’d already headed into the kitchen. I followed her in there, took the wad of paper towels from her hand, and said, “What part of ‘I’ve got it’ wasn’t clear?”

She said, “It’s my mess.” I laughed, and she said, “What?”

“Your mess,” I said, “isn’t on the floor. I’ve got the floor.”

Her hand flew to her face, and I said, “Yeah.”

“Your sheets, too,” she said from behind her hand.

I sighed. “Would you go get cleaned up, please? How did this go from me kissing you and giving you some dirty talk, not to mention finally getting to touch some of that body of yours, all the way back to you annoying me?”

“Well, gee,” she said, “maybe I should just go.”

Now, I did bang my head. Put my two hands against the wall and banged. She was laughing, trying to pull me away, saying, “Sebastian! Stop it! ”

“I will stop,” I said, “when you go into the bathroom and clean yourself up. And get a new ice pack for your nose, too.” I wanted to ask, Should you be working tomorrow after that?

If I did, though, she’d just say something about football players having no right to talk, and worse, she’d be right.

So I didn’t. I just stood there, crossed my arms, and gave her my best hard look until she said, “Fine,” switched out her ice pack, and marched out of there.

Blood on her nose, her upper lip, her chin, her neck, her chest. And all the way defiant.

Too bad I seemed to like defiant women. Apparently, I enjoyed having my life made difficult.

I cleaned up the blood on the hardwood floors, ignored the blood on the rug—a note and a big old tip for the cleaners, I figured—and stripped the sheets.

My second time this week tossing sheets into the washing machine, because my new life seemed destined to be full of mess and bodily fluids.

Unfortunately, not the right bodily fluids.

I was re-making the bed when I heard Alix’s voice from behind me, informing me loftily, “I took a shower, for your information. Thank you for informing me that I looked like an ad for a slasher movie before I made you look at it for about half an hour. That was extremely thoughtful of you.”

I barely heard her, because I’d turned around and …

Well, yeah. She was wearing a pair of those panties we’d bought her. The mint green ones, to be exact.

And that was all.

I said, “Uh …” Brilliantly once more.

“My so-called nightgown is covered in blood, and I didn’t bring anything else.” Going for brisk, but the color in her cheeks sent another message, and her body … That message was about two words long, as far as I was concerned. One of them was Fuck, and the other one was me.

I sure hoped we spoke the same language.

She said, “If you have a T-shirt, I could wear that. ”

I unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth and asked, “Do you want to wear it?”

“Not especially.” She was still trying for matter-of-fact, but she couldn’t quite meet my eyes.

“I normally don’t wear much to bed other than underwear and maybe a tank unless I’m having my period.

Too much information, I realize, but here we are, and—” Her hands came up as if to cover her breasts, and she dropped them again.

Deliberately. And said, “I wish you’d say something.

I have no idea what you’re thinking. You said yesterday morning that you wanted to see me dressed like you, and now I am dressed like you, and you’re just standing there!

All right, I said we shouldn’t do anything, because of your horrible day, and yes, we both have work tomorrow and this is completely irresponsible, but?—”

I didn’t answer. I just stepped forward, took her two hands in mine, held them out to the side, and looked at her. She said, “Oh, that’s way better. That’s not making me insecure at all. I told you, 36B.”

I didn’t seem to have words for this situation.

Instead, I slid my hands up her arms. Slowly, feeling that skin for myself.

And then I drew them down and cupped her breasts.

Gently. I brushed my thumbs over the nipples, and she caught her breath.

I watched my hands, and then I looked up into her eyes and said, “What part of this am I not supposed to be enjoying?”

“Oh,” she said.

I said, “I don’t want to hurt you. Your nose.” It wasn’t swollen, but it had to still be hurting.

She said, “You probably shouldn’t kiss me, then.”

I smiled. It came on slowly, but it was irresistible. “On the mouth, anyway. If I’m sucking on something else tender, though, you could take it as a loving gesture.”

She said, a catch in her voice, “That would be … that would be fine. ”

“Uh-huh.” I still had my hands on her breasts, and now, I turned with her and backed her toward the bed. “You’d better not do any leaning forward, either. Or work too hard. Sorry, but I think this means less of the power struggle and more of you on your back.”

This time, she had nothing to say, and when her knees hit the edge of the bed and I lowered her gently onto it with my hand behind her head, she didn’t say anything then, either.

But when I tongued one of those taut pink nipples, she said something.

Or to be more exact, she made a noise. Then instantly gasped, “Sorry. Ben.”

I raised my head. “Ben is at the far corner of this two-thousand-square-foot apartment. And I locked the door.” I gave the other nipple a pinch, and she jumped a bit. “I think I’m going to have to insist on a little more cooperation here,” I informed her, “since I’m in charge of this.”

“You’re—” She was trying to get mad, but since I was kissing her neck now, it wasn’t quite working.

“It only makes sense,” I said against her skin.

“You can be a little—” I was sucking a little now, and her legs were parting, her hips shifting.

“A little impulsive. And since I plan to drive you out of your mind …” I shifted to the other side of her neck, and one of her knees came up even as she grabbed hold of my back.

“We’d better leave this in my hands,” I finished, then went back to my work.

I stayed there for a good ten minutes, and she made it worth my while. She moaned, she shifted, and finally, she put a hand over her mouth.

“Yeah,” I said, kissing my way down over her smooth shoulder, one hand on a breast, the other reaching for her hand and pulling it over her head. “It’s hard to keep quiet. You work on that, and I’ll just?—”

She had the most sensitive nipples in the world. I was careful. I was gentle. And when she had her hand clutching my head and was saying, “Please. Please. Touch me, uh … touch me more. This is … I can’t take this.”

Welcome words, you have to agree. I said, “Oh, I think you can.” I was dying to move on myself, but patience is good for the soul, and then there was the way she was twisting under me. I tightened my grip on her wrist, and she said, “Oh. Sebastian. Oh. I’m … I’m …”

Which was when she stiffened and her hips started pumping.

Oh, shit.

Alix

Nobody had ever taken this long.

I started out thinking, Come on. Come on. Please. And then thought more like—well, more like, Come on. Come on. Please. But in a whole different way.

I’d thought, when he’d instantly put his hands on my breasts like that, like this would finally move along.

But it didn’t. He stayed there at my neck, at my breasts.

His hand was hard around my wrist, not hurting, but holding tight, he was sucking at a nipple after teasing and playing with me there for so long, and I …

well, I had an orgasm, all right? It wasn’t like I meant to. It snuck up on me.

Sebastian was swearing, I was dimly aware.

He was leaving my breasts, too, and I didn’t want him to go.

Moving down my body, getting his hands around those thin microfiber panties.

I heard a ripping sound and didn’t care, because he had his hands on my inner thighs now, was shoving them apart.

His mouth was on me even as I thought, He won’t want to do this.

He has to be so frustrated by now. And then he was sucking me there and I was spiking straight up again.

My hand was over my mouth, trying to muffle my cries, his hands were on the backs of my thighs, pushing my legs up, tightening everything that much more, and it just felt too good.

I couldn’t stand it. And since the only answer when you can’t stand it is to go ahead and come, that was what I did.

Holy shit, was the only thought in my brain. His hand was on me here, too. Probing. Testing. Greedy. I had my free hand in his hair and was probably pulling, but he didn’t seem to care. Until he lifted his head and got off the bed, and then I cared.

“Wh-what?” I managed to say. “No. Please.”

“Condom.” He didn’t look one bit controlled, whatever he’d said. He was heading into the bathroom and coming back with the packet, already ripping it open, then seeming to remember that he was still wearing his briefs, because he said, “Shit.”

I said, “I should—” and reached for his hips, pulled him toward me.

“Oh, no,” he said. “Not tonight. You’re on your back, remember?” And pushed me gently back down. “I’m protecting you.”

“I want to, though.” I didn’t usually. That was because I wasn’t interested in one-way streets, but if there were a one-way street here, Sebastian was the one driving down it.

“Too bad.” He was over me again, on his knees now, his palms against the backs of my thighs again, opening me up and …

looking. Which didn’t make me self-conscious much.

I tried to close my legs, and he wouldn’t let me.

“You’re pretty here, too,” he said. “Like a flower. I’m afraid I’m going to have to fuck this, baby. ”

“Would you just … hurry up?” I got out.