LUCI (The Naughty Ones Book 2) (39 page)

Remy

“Stop. I can do it.” I hiss, closing my eyes and breathing deeply when Chase just ignores me and picks me up to lower me into the bathtub. “Chase, hon, you’re really going to have to cool it with this overprotective stuff. You haven’t been to work in four days, not counting my time in the hospital, and quite frankly you’re driving me nuts.”

He glares and I glare right back before a giggle bubbles forth. I cover my mouth to stop the sound but he hears it and narrows his eyes at me, his mouth thinning.

“The doctors had to put three pins in your leg and drain your knee. You’re not hobbling around on that till the cast comes off. End of fucking story, Remy.”

“But…”

Okay, so maybe I’m being pissy, but I’m still smarting from the realization that the burning sensation that I’d woken with first day in the hospital was in fact one of those monstrous tubes they shove up your pee hole, and that the bag that collects said pee was hanging in Chase’s view the whole time.

Not only do I now have to live down my boyfriend giving me a sponge bath—
humiliating
—but he watched as the nurse removed that tube as well. I can honestly say after that I don’t feel an ounce of embarrassment about my body anymore.

He’s seen the absolute worst already.

“This is still about that bloody—”

“Don’t even say it Marshall,” I warn, sinking into the bath water with a huff. “That never, ever happened.”

My eyes are closed but I distinctly hear a muffed chuckle before he shuffles over to the toilet and sits, his usual ritual since he’s paranoid about leaving me in the tub alone.

I fell asleep one time and he’s never gonna forget it!

And don’t even get me started on the rest of it. He won’t have sex with me, he tries to carry me around everywhere, totally ignoring the crutches the doc gave me—and he tried to
spoon-feed
me this morning!

He’s being a smothering mother hen and monitors my every move. He even tried to help me wipe yesterday because…well, God alone knows why, but he tried. I had to threaten him with bodily harm before he backed off.

Have I mentioned he won’t have sex with me?

So maybe I’m a little fixated on that one topic, but my period is coming up and my window of opportunity is closing, fast. Plus, I am really horny right now. And who can blame me?

The man sleeps with me smashed to his chest, his arms securely fastened around me like tentacles, and he does not wake up flaccid—ever.

You try sleeping with a hot piece of man flesh—his boner poking at your clit as if the poor darling is seeking refuge. I’m frustrated and so needy that I flat out yelled at him about it this morning.

Know what he did? Nothing. He pecked my lips and rolled out of bed without a word. Went to the bathroom and then went to make me breakfast.

I hadn’t gotten laid, or even a good, stress relieving fight. Nada.

And now he wants to sit in the bathroom watching me bathe and start tenting his pants, all the while denying me?
Dammit, it isn’t fair
, I whine silently, doing a mental foot stamp.

“Stop sulking.”

I open one lid and stare at him stonily, noting the way his eyes follow my hands as they skim over my belly and over my breast, grazing my already pebbled nipples.

His tongue comes out to lick at his lips and I almost moan with need when his teeth sink into the soft flesh of his bottom lip and bite down hard, his eyes drooping.

Ah, finally! Lust.

“Hey, Chase? So you know how you won’t have sex with me for like, ever?” I ask, purring softly when he swallows and his teeth go back to his lips before he manages to drag his eyes away from my hands and breasts.

“Huh?”

“I said…you know how you won’t have sex with me for ages and ages because you’re being stubborn?”

He swallows and nods, his eyes firing two different shades of blazing heat at me.

“Well, the doctor never said a thing about not having sex solo. So far as I can figure, if you’re going to continue torturing me by holding out, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.”

I force my voice to sound regretful even though I’m almost bursting with mirth.
Typical man.
I mention masturbation and his eyes flare and so do those nostrils of his. And God have mercy, that mouth.

He’s licking his lips and staring at my naked form, just beneath the surface of the water, as if he’s imagining—

“Don’t.”

My right hand halts it’s progression down the line of my flat stomach, pausing right above my pubic bone. My fingers flex, itching to hit their target and I almost moan when his fingers mimic my actions before closing into a white-knuckled fist.

His breathing is choppy, I note, synching with my own harsh breaths and it turns me on even more when his tongue flicks out and the tip worries at the crease in his upper lip.

With this position—my right leg raised and balanced on the rim of the tub—Chase can see every part of me, so I flex my inner muscle, knowing he’ll see the movement.

“Christ. I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Aaaaw, how sweet and totally not helping his cause right now.

“I know. But I really don’t think you will.”

My hands are still exactly where I placed them, one resting above my mons, the other just below my left breast, fingers framed as if offering him my nipple.

“I would. Believe me. My first instinct when you woke up in that hospital, when I knew you were safe, was to strip you bare and sink into you. I have this overwhelming need to fuck you till we’re both exhausted, till I can prove to myself that we’re alive and well and that I won’t…lose you. But the need is too strong. I’d hurt you if I lost control.”

“But you’ve lost control before,” I say breathily when his eyes come up to meet mine.

Believe me. Chase has fucked me plenty hard and dirty since the first time he put his mouth on me. I like it—a lot. I would not be averse to some hard loving. In fact, I really would appreciate that a whole lot more than being coddled right now.

“No.”

“No? What do you mean, no! This is so unfair—”

“I mean, no, I have never, not once lost full control with you in bed, Remy. If I took you without a thought, just let myself go and unleashed it all on you, I am terrified that I would hurt you. And that’s not even taking your leg into consideration.”

Oh man, oh man, oh man
.

Seriously?

I swallow a little, suddenly unsure of the course I’ve taken. I’m no shrinking violet but I can honestly tell you that my leg had hurt like a bitch those first two days and still does, only I’m used to it now so it’s not that bad.

Since there are like a jillion pins holding my bones together so it can knit properly, I feel it and I have no business upsetting that apple cart right now, not until I get over my fear of pain medication.

But, and God help me I know this is wrong, but I can’t seem to heed his warning when he talks like that. Does he even realize that he’s talking about reclaiming me, reaffirming our life together, as if he’s already decided that we’re
it
?

I don’t think the poor darling even thinks of me—us—in terms of love because he is such a man. He sees what he wants and he gets it, me included, and once he has possession he polishes it and hoards it like candy, like a piece of artwork, like something of value that he will never tire of.

That thought warms me as nothing else does, so I make up my mind, blushing profusely when I meet his gaze and make my play.

“I understand, and truth be told, I don’t know if I’m ready to risk banging this baby around just yet.”

The disappointment and understanding in his eyes make me smile though and I decide to take this to the next level. My hand flexes once before I slide my fingers down, my middle and index fingers framing and opening me up so he gets a nice, clear view.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t do other things,” I purr, gasping when he howls out a curse and flies up, dropping down beside me.

Chase

Looking at her without touching is torture—pure agony—and I’ve spent the last few days in constant conflict about even sleeping in the same bed for fear that I’ll snap and fall on her like a starved, rabid animal.

But that’s not even worth considering. Ever. Now that I have her in my home and bed for good, I’m not willing to put any distance between us. Perhaps I should have given her privacy, or maybe I should have hired a nurse because, honest to God, resisting her when she’s all but threatened to diddle herself in front of me is about the last straw.

And then comes the
real
last straw, the fucker that goes ahead and breaks that gasping camel’s back is seeing her spear her fingers down and spread herself as if offering me, a starving man, a feast for the gods.

Here’s the thing. I love eating my woman, even to the exclusion of being inside her because—and most dudes won’t believe this—her pleasure is more of a high to me than my own.

Everything about putting my lips and tongue on her is magical. The delicate folds that are different shades of fuck-me pink. The ways she smells clean and musky all at the same time. Her taste… Fuck, I can’t describe it I just know it’s the best thing I have or will ever have sliding down my throat.

And then, finally but definitely not least, I am addicted to the way she sounds and looks when she climaxes. Remy is a beautiful woman—to me the
most
beautiful—but in that final second, when her body is reaching and then overcome by the pleasure, her face screws up and she looks so…lost and weird, yeah weird, like she’s in pain and blissed out at the same time.

If her contractions don’t already let me know that her climaxes are real, I promise you, her come face is a dead giveaway and I fucking love it.

Now, on my haunches beside the bath, my hand an inch from paradise, I have to take a deep breath and remind myself that Remy and I cannot have sex tonight. Or tomorrow night. Or the night after.

No. No penetration or thrusting of any kind. But that does not rule out my favorite sexual position, and it certainly does not mean she can’t return the favor.

With that in mind, I thrust my arms beneath her and lift her in one move, water pouring around us and soaking my clothes and the floor. I pay the mess no mind and stalk to the bedroom, drenching the sheets when I place her wet body on top.

I don’t take my eyes off her while I fling my wet clothes off, or even when I remove the waterproofing from the heavy cast surrounding her leg.

I keep our eyes locked the whole time, testing, watching, waiting for that one moment when her beautiful aqua gaze tells me I have my in. It doesn’t take long, and a grin tips my lips.

She squeals when I drop to my knees, grab her hips to yank her closer and open my mouth wide over her without preamble. She yells and grunts when I don’t stop but instead amp up the pressure. She starts grinding into me with purpose.

I eat her tills she’s begging, screaming and almost concussing me with her cast. I take her up and stop, before starting all over again, so reluctant to have this be over too soon. I almost torture my poor baby before clamping my lips to her clit and sucking her to orgasm.

When she’s done, no longer moaning, thrashing or shredding my scalp with her nails, when my jaw lets out a groan, I pull away, licking my lips with relish. My dick is so hard and desperate I’m soaked in pre-cum.

And then things get really interesting because Remy, my beautiful, gorgeous woman is a give and take kind of lass. What she lacks in experience, the vixen more than makes up for in exuberance and inventiveness.

By the time I’ve come, my balls emptying into her waiting, demanding mouth, I’m so spent I collapse beside her and pass out. My last coherent thought is a chuckle when she giggles and sets me right in my place—according to her:

“Men. So sensitive.”

***

Two weeks pass without a single lead, and though it frustrates me—hell I want to throw things, curse, and demand answers from Brick—I understand that they are great at what they do, the best, but that they aren’t miracle workers.

The guys who took Remy and Liv have vanished, leading me to believe that they do indeed have a benefactor who’s funding them to the point they don’t have to step foot on the streets.

“This shit is eating me man.”

“I know, Brick, believe me, it’s my lass who was taken and almost killed, so I fully understand. Something will turn up; we just have to be patient.”

I say it to calm the guy because, please understand, a calm Brick is unpleasant on the best of days. Brick when he loses his shit is one angry git, and by angry I am saying he can kill a man with little more than the jab of a well-placed finger.
That
kind of angry.

“Don’t talk to me about patience asshole. Those pricks could be hurting some other innocent woman while I sit here twiddling my fucking fingers like a Nancy civilian.”

Hell.

“I’m going in the cage tomorrow night. Come on down and de-stress man. At the very least you can beat the shit out of someone who doesn’t deserve it but who’s probably a douche anyway.”

He sucks in a breath and then I hear satisfaction cloud his voce.

“You going in the cage? What about Remy?”

“When she heard that I dabble in the sport she went all hysterical and started screaming and jumping on her good leg. She even clapped her hands and said ‘Oh yay, I get to see your fine ass get sweaty while you go all
Hulk
,’ end quote.”

The sap has the gall to laugh at that but I say nothing, instead enjoying that something my crazy lass has said had the power to talk him off his ledge.

“Tell her I’m even hotter when we fight. And hell yeah, Chief, I can’t wait to go up against you again. I will redeem myself.”

“Dream on.”

“You wait and see.”

“First, I am a kickass fighter.” No humbleness there, I’m an animal, which is why they call me ‘The Animal.’ “
Aaand
there’s no way I’m losing with my lass watching. I like having big hairy balls and showing her what a grand protector I am. You’re about to eat your own arse lad.”

“We’ll see.”

“Indeed.”