The Bad Boy Next Door (6 page)

Which left me with staying where I was, not calling anyone and completely lacking any answers.

I huffed out a breath. “I wonder if he’s got cable?” I muttered, pushing myself from the door and stomping through the gym.

When I got back up to the living room, Lucas was gone.

Fuck.

Panic, I’ve come to realize, tastes like metal and fire in your mouth.

I stared at the sofa where Lucas had last been, my brain desperately trying to process the cushions I was looking at where a sedated six-foot-five man should be.

“Lucas?” I shouted.

And then slapped my hand to my mouth. If he wasn’t here, than someone must have moved him, right? Which meant I wasn’t alone.

And I’d just announced my presence to whoever was in here with us.

Shit.

Half crouching—no, I don’t know why either—I hurried through the living room to the front door.

Locked and latched. From the inside.

My stomach churned.

Standing—or more to the point, still half crouching—I listened to the house’s silence.

It was just that. Silent.

Not a sound.

Mouth dry, eyes burning, I scanned the room. Nothing was out of place. Well, apart from Lucas, that was. Even the Glock Doctor Winchester had insisted I keep was still on the table where I’d placed it.

Shit.

Straightening, I slowly made my way to the kitchen. Slower still, I withdrew the biggest knife in the knife block on the counter.

I couldn’t shoot my foot off with a knife.

Grip tight enough on the hilt my knuckles ached, I climbed the stairs.

Every molecule in my body thrummed and sparked and quivered with fear. As much as I wanted to run, I needed to find Lucas first. I couldn’t leave him. He was defenseless. Vulnerable.

The first bedroom was empty.

So was the second.

Which left the master suite.

I paused at the closed door, pressed my ear to its surface.

Not a sound from the other side.

Adjusting my grip on the knife, I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob and turned it. Slowly. Slowly.

I pushed open the door, knife ready.

And froze at the sound that greeted me.

A low nasally buzzing sound.

Snoring.

I blinked. What the—

Pushing the door wide, I stepped into the room. Lucas lay stretched out on the middle of the bed, on his stomach, legs splayed, cheek mushed against the mattress, eyes closed.

Snoring.

I gaped at him.

“Are you serious?” I muttered.

The adrenaline that had been flooding my system left me in a rush. The trembles kicked in, hard and fast and violent.

I stared at my naked neighbor. Listened to his soft snores. And threw up my hands, knife and all. “Fuck this. I’m having a shower.”

I stomped past the bed, past Lucas, into the master suite’s opulent bathroom.

The shakes and trembles made stripping tricky, but I finally shucked off my clothes, turned on the water and stepped under the warm stream.

I washed my hair. Twice. Lucas’s shampoo smelled like peppermint. It made my mouth water. God, I was so failing at the gay thing right at this point in time.

I was licking my lips when the shower door opened.

“What the fuck?” I yelped, spinning toward whoever it was invading my privacy.

Lucas stood on the other side of the door, looking at me.

You know the proverbial deer-in-a-headlight stunned gape? That was me. I even had the crazy heart hammering in my throat and the immobility to go along with it.

I stared at him. He was clearly no longer sedated and was capable of moving.

“You’re awake,” I croaked out.

Way to go, Ronnie. Talk about stating the obvious. Idiot.

His lips curled in a slow smile. The edges of his eyes crinkled. He nodded.

And then reached into the shower, wrapped his finger around my wrist and jerked me from under the water.

Straight into his hard, naked body.

My wet skin slipped against his. My hands flattened to the broad plane of his chest. Our thighs collided. Well, mine collided with his. He was a rock. He didn’t stumble under the jarring force of my body hitting his. Instead, he instantly snaked his hands around my waist and he cupped my ass.

Squeezed it.

And drew my hips harder to his as he did so.

Oh, Christ on a pony, he was erect.

My head swirled. Raw lust flooded through me. A low whimper tore at my throat. Hopefully, the sound of the still-running shower camouflaged it.

“I like the sounds you make when I touch you, Ronnie,” Lucas growled, kneading my ass cheek as he lowered his head closer to mine.

Okay, so hopes dashed on the shower then. Damn.

I met his gaze, my palms flat to his chest. “You’re meant to be sedated.”

His cock throbbed between us. The faint movement sent another rush of lust through me. A goddamn tsunami of it. “I was. But now I’m not.”

“You’re injured,” I stated. I may have been putting up reasons why this was insane, but strangely, I wasn’t trying to get out of his arms.

He lowered his head closer, hovering his lips above mine. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this in worse shape than I am now.”

The statement twisted a cold knot in my stomach. “You have? You’re in the habit of…of…” My cheeks filled with heat and I squirmed. The words
having sex with women while wounded
didn’t want to leave my tongue. His thick cock rubbed against my tummy, making me wish I’d stayed still. It felt so hard and long and impressive and—”How many times have you done this in worse shape?” I asked. I don’t know why I asked. I didn’t want to hear the answer.

Lucas chuckled, smoothing one of his hands from my butt up my back to fist a hank of my wet hair. “Once. But I don’t think the recipient of my attention was dissatisfied, given how many orgasms I gave her.”

I swallowed, incapable of tearing my stare from his. “How many?” I croaked. Damn it, I wanted to hit him.

He lifted an eyebrow. “You tell me. You were the one having them.”

Heat flooded my face. My clit prickled with the sudden rush of ecstatic blood filling it. My pussy contracted.

“Bastard,” I protested, body thrumming with anger and desire and embarrassment and need. I shoved against his chest, making sure not to push on or near any of his freshly stitched injuries. “You did that on—”

He shut me up by crushing my lips with a hungry kiss.

And by hungry, I mean hungry.

And wild.

And savage.

And so fucking incredible I forgot how to breathe for a wicked, intoxicating moment.

I curled my fingers, scraping my nails over his chest. The soles of my feet tingled, the kind of physical sensation I usually got before I was about to climax.

Oh God, the guy could kiss.

It took all my strength—and a ridiculous amount of will power—to pull my lips from his and shove at his chest.

“Lucas,” I rasped, glaring at him. “I can’t…you’re injured. Doctor Winchester told me you’re not allowed.”

“Fuck Doctor Winchester,” he murmured, a gleam in his eyes that made my pussy flutter.

“Have you?” I shot back.

He laughed, and yanked me harder to his hips with the hard hand on my backside. “Doctor Winchester is a dyed-in-the-wool lesbian.”

“So am I.”

It wasn’t until the words were out that I realized how ludicrous they were, given we were naked and mashed together, given he’d made me come numerous times already in the last twenty-four hours, given just the thought of him made me so hungry for sexual fulfillment I didn’t know what to do with myself.

Given he’d almost made me come right this very moment with his kiss alone.

I may sometimes be into girls—and some of the most amazing fucks I’ve had were with those of the same sex as myself—but I was into Lucas fucking Pratt more.

I was into him. In lust with him. Scared of him. Confused and incensed by him.

All those added up to one thing. One thing I did not want to admit to myself at all.

Nope. Not at all.

So instead, I shoved with ineffectual pretense against his chest once again.

“What
are
you?” I asked, trying to ignore the way his cock throbbed against my stomach. It felt so good there. So…so good…

“Your friendly neighbor,” he murmured back, dipping his head to nip at the flesh on the top of my shoulder.

A ribbon of tight heat unfurled through me. I tried not to whimper and failed. “That’s not what I mean,” I grumbled, even as I rolled my hips. Damn, his cock was impressive.

“A guy who is going to fuck senseless the girl he’s lusted after forever,” he offered, moving his lips to the base of my throat. He flicked his tongue into the shallow dip there before straightening and capturing my mouth with his for another wild, savage, hungry kiss I had no defense against. His tongue did things to mine that stole the fight right out of me, and honestly, there was little fight left in me. From the second he’d kissed me way back in my bedroom, I knew I was gone.

But still, I had to know what was going on. I had to know that at least. Before we—

He dragged his lips from mine and slowly dropped to his knees, his hands raking down my back to cup and knead my ass as he swiped his tongue between my wet thighs.

Holy. Holy. Fuck.

My legs trembled. My breath did the same. I fisted my hands in his hair, desperate to stop him. Well, not stop him, just…slow him down. At least until he told me what was going on.

“Tell me what’s going on, Lucas,” I groaned when he resisted my rather feeble attempt to remove his mouth from my pussy. “Are you a criminal? What’s in the safe? Are you a spy?”

He chuckled into my sex, his hands exploring my ass, the backs of my thighs. “Just call me Pratt,” he murmured, grinning up at me from between my legs. His breath tickled my wet flesh in a sinfully delicious caress. “Lucas Pratt.”

Before I could tell him to be serious, he plunged his tongue back into my pussy, laving my clit over and over.

My head swam. My eyes fluttered closed. “Oh God,” I moaned, swaying on my feet.

He chuckled again, stabbing harder and faster at my sex with his tongue.

It was incredible.

I rolled my head, pleasure flooding me. There was something I was meant to be doing, but I couldn’t fathom what it was. Something I wanted him to tell me…

“Lucas…” I groaned. “Wh-what…are you doing…”

“Making you mine,” he declared a heartbeat before he plunged two fingers into my sex and sucked my clit into his mouth.

I came on his hand and his face.

Standing up, I came all over him.

As I did, he hummed approval, working his tongue faster on my clit, scissoring his fingers inside me with increased speed and skill.

A second orgasm crashed through me, this one more fierce and wild.

I gasped and moaned and writhed on my feet. “Oh God, Lucas…oh God…”

I don’t know when he straightened from between my legs. After he’d drained me of every drop of pleasure in my body, maybe? When he did, all I could do was stare at him, my breasts heaving, sucking in breath after breath. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on?” I whispered as he brushed a curiously tender knuckle over my cheekbone.

“Yes,” he whispered back. “But not yet.”

“Why not?” Had my voice ever been so scratchy?

Open hunger flared in his eyes, and he curled his fingers around one of my wrists. “Because we have other things to do first.”

He pulled me from the bathroom. I tried to protest, but seriously, who was I kidding? I
wanted
him to make me his sexual slave.

“The shower…” I offered as the lamest reason in the world. “We should turn it off.”

He didn’t slow down. So much for water conservation.

We reached the bed—its duvet and sheets crumpled from where he’d been lying on it when I decided to have a shower—and with a strong tug on my wrist, he deposited me on the middle of it.

“Fucking you in this bed, in
any
bed, has been high on my to-do list, Ronnie,” he said. “And now I’m finally going to do it.”

“Oh.”

It was the most ridiculous response but the only one available to me. At his declaration, my brain had packed up and abandoned me. I was operating on nothing but pleasure now, raw and real and elemental.

The corner of his mouth tugged into a filthy lopsided smile as he climbed onto the bed, hands either side of my hips. “
Oh
is correct.”

With one knee, he nudged my thighs apart.

I stared up at him, my breath tearing from my chest. He hovered above me, watching me, that half-smile on his lips, his eyes brilliant blue fires of open lust.

Had he looked at me like this every time we were together? Had it been there all along and I’d missed it? At those joint family camping trips? At those 4th July barbeques? When I’d assumed he was sneering at me, had he really been aching for me instead? And if so, how could I go back in time and do this before the mysterious threat against our safety?

“Lucas,” I croaked as he climbed completely onto the bed, his face drawing closer to mine. His knee pressed to the junction of my thighs, one hand skimming up my ribcage, my breast… “Who are you?
What
are you?”

I had to try. One last time at least, before I was lost to his sheer mastery of my pleasure, my body.

His breath tickled my lips as something ambiguous glinted in his eyes. “A bad boy,” he whispered. “A very bad boy who wants to be inside you.”

And with that, he crushed my mouth with his and buried himself to the balls between my legs.

There is no way I can describe the sensations that flooded through me at the penetration. Wild rapture, wicked excitement, concentrated desire, exquisite fire… Oh man, all of them and so much more.

“Holy fuck,” I cried out, clawing at his back and shoulders. In a distant part of my brain the word
condom
flashed over and over in neon red. The rest of my brain drowned in the absolute perfection of Lucas’s unadorned flesh embedded in mine.

“There’s nothing holy about this, Ronnie,” he growled in my ear as he slowly withdrew his thick length from my gripping sex.