Up to Me (The Bad Boys #2)(53)
Author: M. Leighton

“Do you like the thought of someone watching you ride me?  Watching you slide up and down on me?  Watching your face when you come for me?  Watching your mouth move as you say my name, over and over again?”

His words!  Damn him and his words!  They make me forget that I care about anything.  I can’t think. I can only feel—feel his fingers biting into my hips, feel his mouth at my chin, his lips at my throat, his teeth at my nipple, feel his breath, feel his body driving into mine.

“You like that, don’t you, baby?  You like for me to talk to you, to make you tell me things?”

“Yes,” I answer breathlessly.

He braces my hands on his chest as he leans back, flexing his hips beneath me as I ride him, allowing my body to slide down even further over his.

“Oh, damn!  So deep,” he moans.

I rise up and fall down on him, feeling each penetration pounding through me.  Cash leans back on one elbow and brings his other hand between us to touch me.  With his thumb, he rubs me.  The air leaves the room and I can’t breathe.  I’m panting, saying things, all sorts of things. I don’t even know what kinds of things, but I know they’re dirty things and I know Cash loves it.

“I know that feels good. I can feel you sucking at me, getting tighter.  So. Tight,” he breathes.  “Tell me you like it.”

“Oh God, I love it.”

“Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it.”

“I want,” I begin, unable even to finish the thought.

“Say it, baby.  Tell me.”

“I don’t want you to stop.  I want you to make me come.”

Cash groans and moves his fingers faster, in small tight circles, each stroke ratcheting my body up higher and higher.

“You want me to make you come?  I’ll make you come so hard, you can’t say anything but my name,” he forces out through gritted teeth.  

Cash sits up suddenly, rolling forward and sliding me beneath him.  He grabs one of my legs behind the knee and pushes it up against my chest.  Forcefully, he pushes into me.  Once, twice and then I’m exploding.

Spasms wrack my entire body, bringing with them a cascade of sensation—wave after wave of it—that I’ve never before experienced.  I can’t open my eyes. I can’t find my breath. I can’t move. I can only feel as I hear myself saying Cash’s name.  Over and over and over again.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Cash

Olivia is sprawled out on top of me.  I rolled us over shortly after we caught our breath so I wouldn’t crush her. I’m sure, to her, I feel like I weigh a ton.  Not so at all with her.  If it weren’t for her warmth, I’d almost forget she was there. She’s light as a feather.

As she has a habit of doing, she’s tracing my tattoo. She sighs.

“You ever gonna tell me what all this is about?” She sounds contented, satisfied. I can hear it in her voice.  She might as well be purring.

“If you look closely enough, you can see all the separate elements of the story.”  I take my finger and trace each part as I explain to her what it all means.  “These are the flames that burned up that boat.  And my life.  These are the wings that flew away with the family I once knew.  This is sort of my version of the yin and yang symbol, for me and my lost twin.  And this rose is for my mother.  May she always rest in peace.”

“What’s this?” she asks, running her finger over the lettering that winds around my bicep, just below where the flames start.  It’s unintelligible now.  The bullet grazed part of it.

“It used to say ‘never forgotten’.”

“And this wound messed it all up.”

I put one arm behind my head and look down at her.  She drags her liquid eyes up to mine.  “It’s fine.  And it was worth it.”

She closes her eyes, like she’s shutting out something painful.  “You could’ve been killed,” she says quietly.

“Hey,” I say, waiting until she opens her eyes to look at me.  “Now you know that I mean it when I say I’d take a bullet for you.  Olivia, I love you.  I’d gladly take a bullet or a knife or an ass-kicking or…whatever to keep you safe.”  Her emerald eyes glisten with unshed tears.  “That’s not supposed to make you sad or upset.”

“It doesn’t,” she says on a trembling voice. “It just makes me happy, hearing you say those words.”

“It does?” I grin.

She grins in return.  “Yeah.  Maybe a little.”

I run my fingers up her side to tickle her and I find that she’s sticky.  “As much as I’d love to stay here with you for a few more days, I suppose we’d better get downstairs and let you clean up.  You’re a sticky mess.”

“I wonder why?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but if you really need to know, we could try to recreate several scenarios until we discover the one that caused you to get so…sticky.”

“Promise?”

“Hell yeah, I promise!”

I peck her on the lips and smack her on the ass before I help peel her chest off mine. I do my best to ignore the way her nipples tighten with the stimulation.  I feel that telltale twitch between my legs that says some parts of me can’t ignore it.  Her next comment, however, effectively crushes any sign of a boner.

“So what’s the deal with Nash and Marissa?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Really?  You don’t care about what happens with Nash?”

I shrug. “It’s not like I wish the guy dead or anything, but he’s not much like the brother I remember.”

“Maybe you two just need some time to get reacquainted with each other, with the men you’ve become.”

I shrug again.  “Maybe.”

But I’m not making any promises!

We get dressed, head back downstairs and make our way back to my apartment.  When I open the office door, I’m a little surprised to see Marissa sitting on the sofa.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting on…Nash.”  She stumbles over his name, which lets me know without asking that she realizes what’s going on. Well, at least that part of it, not all the other details.

“He’s not back yet? He was supposed to be right behind me.”