No Quarter (NOLA's Own #2) (3 page)

“Shit,” he grunted. “I ain’t ready to come for you. I owe you for last night. I need you to come over and over and over before you break me.” His breath was hot and moist in my ear.

Already, I felt boneless and weak, languid and wrung out.

“I ain’t done with you yet,” he promised, creating another shiver to dance its way between my legs. Holding me loosely with one arm, he traced his fingers over my lips, his eyes almost black with desire as he stared into mine. “Open,” he commanded softly.

Panting slightly, I parted my lips, and he pushed his long middle finger into my mouth.

“Suck,” he told me.

I was so turned on by what he was doing that I obeyed. Sucking and swirling my tongue around the digit, I could tell he liked it because he filled up my cunt just that much more.

“Stop,” he whispered as he slowly pulled his finger out of my mouth. His hand skimmed its way around my waist to the crack of my ass, sliding between my cheeks.

I tensed up. No one had ever touched me like this.

He never took his gaze from mine. “You ever been fucked in the ass before?” His voice, deep and throaty, held a dangerous ring to it.

“N-no,” I breathed.

He bit his lip as his finger found the puckered ring of muscle, rubbing gently. “
I’m
gonna fuck you in your ass one day soon.”

Breathlessly, I replied, “Okay.”

“Does that scare you at all?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Then, why are you so tense?”

“Maybe a little bit,” I admitted.

“You’re still gonna let me though.”

“Yes.”
I will let you do whatever you want to me as long as I can feel the love in your heart.

“Relax,” he whispered. He pressed his lips to mine. When his tongue breached my mouth, he pushed the tip of his finger into me.

What a fucking bizarre sense of invasion.

His cock swelled a fraction more.

“Have you ever…” I asked him, trying to distract myself from the weirdness of it.

“No,” he replied softly, his eyes roaming my face for my expression. “One last first to have with each other.”

His lips possessed mine once more. When he felt me relax enough, lulling me with the sweet play of his lips and tongue, he pushed his finger in deeper.

“
Fuuuck
,” he groaned loudly. “I didn’t think your cunt could get any tighter.” He pushed in to his third knuckle and started moving his hips once more.

Oh. My. God. This is fucking phenomenal!

My hips rocked against him, in time with his thrusts, and a deep moan escaped me.

“You fuckin’
like
it, don’t you?” he growled in my ear, his fist in my hair forcing my face to turn. “Answer me!”

“Yes!” I cried out.

He slowly pulled out his finger and pushed it back in.

“Oh, shit!” I cried.

“It’s
mine
,” he snarled. “I’m gonna fuck your last virgin hole. It’s gonna take my whole cock, and—
fuck
, it’s like a vise.”

Both my cunt and my ass convulsed with that promise.

“
More
,” I begged.

After pulling out to the tip of his finger, he then inserted two.

“Like that?” he murmured, his lips skimming over my cheek.

My hips were rocking on their own now as I was being simultaneously fucked in both ends. He pulled me into him until there was no space between us from groin to chest. Pounding into me, the rhythm of his cock and fingers rode in synchronicity.

“I think I can make you come with my cock in your ass,” he informed me.

“Do it,” I hissed back. “I want you to.”

“Mmm…I think I’m gonna love tryin’. All of you gets so tight and hot.”

I was about to implode. It might be possible for me to come just from the graphic dirty talk he spewed.

“Shit, you
are
tryin’ to break me. Can you squeeze me any tight—” He sucked in a sharp breath as I clenched hard on him. “
Fuck
!”

Bearing down on him set me off. My ass began tingling fiercely, sending shooting sensations to my cunt, my nipples, my clit, and to his spot, and I was flung wide open inside as a powerful orgasm combusted through me. My head dropped back, the bones in my neck turning liquid with it, and the guttural cry I emitted sounded harsh to my own ears.

Phil crushed me to him, pumping with fast, long strokes. His teeth sank into my shoulder as he screamed with the force of his own orgasm. Inside me, his cock jerked with a violence I hadn’t felt before.

Clinging to each other tightly, we stayed frozen like this for some minutes as our hearts returned to a normal rate, and our breaths became smooth and even.

Phil gave a gentle kiss to the spot he’d bitten.

“I love you,” he whispered, giving me a one-armed squeeze, his fingers still inside me.

“I love you, too,” I told him, “so much.”

Swelling up with his breath, he said, “Last night, I was so scared that I’d never hear you say it again.”

“Just let it go, babe,” I whispered. I kissed his cheek. “Do it for me.”

Jumping in the shower, I was happy to find that there was hot water.

Sighing with relief, I said, “I hope Alys and Lili had hot water when they showered this morning.”

“Alys stayed with X last night,” Phil told me, stepping in behind me. “You were in here a long time.”

That statement gave me pause. “How long were
you
here?”

“Long enough to make you feel creeped out, I’m sure.”

“Tell me.”

“I was here the whole time, Kenna. When I walked out of my bathroom, you were gone, and I knew that there was the very real possibility that you weren’t ever comin’ back. I was in the backyard when I saw you turn on the light in here. You were sittin’ on your bed when I got on the balcony.”

That wasn’t the branches hitting the railing then.
“You were very quiet about it.”

“I came barefoot.”

“You sneaky fucker!” I accused.

“Well, I wasn’t going to waste time puttin’ fuckin’ shoes on!”

“Why didn’t you let me know you were here?”

He took a deep breath. “I deserved to see the pain you felt, the damage I’d caused. But I didn’t think you needed to freeze when the water got cold. Your teeth were chatterin’ somethin’ awful.”

I leaned back into him. “You
are
kind of creepy, babe.”

He shrugged and wrapped his arms around me. “I don’t care. I was worried about you, about us.”

We finished up and got dressed before heading down to the kitchen where I made us some sandwiches for lunch. Phil poured us some iced teas and sat down at the island, waiting for me to join him.

“Would you want seafood gumbo for dinner?” I asked him as I plopped his plate stacked with three large sandwiches in front of him.

His eyes popped with surprise. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’ll need to go get the seafood, but I have everything else. I’ll make it at your place, so everyone can have some.”

“Too fuckin’ right,” he said. “We’ll go after I get some clean clothes. Oh, wait—”

“What?”

“Me ’n’ X ’n’ Flipper are supposed to get the studio set up today.”

“What studio?”

“The one I had built in the big half of the house. It used to be the basement. It’s nothin’ fancy. Just a soundproof place, so we can practice and record shit down for the next album.”

“When do you guys start recording?” I took a bite of my sandwich.

“Not until after the New Year. We’re not renewin’ our contract with Rattlesnake, so we don’t want any new shit to go under their label.”

“Are you guys starting your own label then?” My curiosity piqued.

“We’re thinkin’ about it, yeah. But we need to have a proper studio and equipment. We’re lookin’ in the Warehouse District for somethin’.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I was a little put out that he hadn’t confided something this important to me.

“It’s not definite. I mean, yeah, not signin’ with Rattlesnake is, but—”

“That’s beside the point, Phil! The things that are going on in your life—they’re important to me. Isn’t the rest of my life important to you, too?”

“Of course it is!”

“Well? Why haven’t you mentioned any of this before now?”

“I don’t know! Maybe because
you’re
the only thing I’ve been thinkin’ about for the last two weeks!”

I glared at him. “Nice save, ass.”

He beamed at me, his dimples punching in deep. “Thanks.”

“You were saying?” I snidely reminded him.

“Um…oh, yeah. So, we said we’d set up the sound room today. We’re lookin’ at warehouses—or, I should say, Tim and Sheri have been on that—to turn into a proper studio. We want to create our own label, so we don’t have to be contracted like we were before. There’s some legal shit we have to go through to make it happen—”

“All of this is going to take a lot of money,” I stated. “Like, a
lot.
”

“Yeah, that’s really not an issue,” he said before taking a huge bite. “It’s makin’ sure that Rattlesnake can’t screw us in any way with the shit we
already
have recorded—like ‘Louisiana Baby.’ They know we don’t want to sign another contract, and we never signed over the rights to our music from the get-go. It’s why they’ve been busting our balls the last five years with back-to-back tours and stickin’ us in Europe for two albums. They can’t touch our music, so they had to make sure that they made as much as they could out of us.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

“Yeah, but we were really young and stupid when we signed up for what we did. We were just so happy that we got a deal and that they gave into our demand that we own our music. We had no idea that meant we’d be their slaves for six and a half years. They wanted us to squeeze out one more album before the contract was up, but we were only contracted for three over a six-year period. They demanded that we record ‘Louisiana Baby,’ so they could make money off of the single.”

“Will you guys still be able to put it on the next album?”

He nodded. “We want to, which is why we have lawyers all over that shit.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes. Thinking about them having their own studio and record label had me excited.

“The Warehouse District is not far from my clinic,” I told him.

I saw his eyes sparkle with warmth.

“I know,” he replied.

Ugh, that reminds me.
“I need to go in on Sunday and make sure everything is up and running. I’m meeting my coworkers at eleven o’clock.”

“Do you need help?” he asked, his cheek bulging with turkey and Swiss.

Hmm…
“Do
you
want to come see where I work?”

“Yeah. I know where it is, but I haven’t seen it or anythin’.”

“All right. Come with me on Sunday then.”

Giving me an odd look, he asked, “Do you like your job?”

“Yeah. It’s hard work, but I find it satisfying.”

“Just satisfyin’? You don’t love what you do?”

“I…”
I’ve never really considered it before. I like what I do, and it’s not like I’m tired of it. I mean, I’ve just started! But…

Phil raised an eyebrow at me. “You…”

“I’m not passionate about it,” I said. To my horror, I discovered that was true.
Oh, fucking hell, I’m not
passionate
about what I do. I just do it. And I’m really good at it, but only because I’ve made sure that I would be.

“You’re not…” His deep voice trailed off, and he looked at me with something close to pity. “Then, why do you do it?”

“I…” I put down my sandwich and stared at it as though it would provide me with the information I needed.

Why
am
I a doctor? Why did I put myself through six years of education and countless hours of training and research? Was it all just a waste of time?

No. No, it wasn’t a waste! I truly take joy in making people feel better, giving them alternative ways to heal when conventional medicine hasn’t helped.

“I wanted to give people a choice,” I said softly. “I want people to realize that when drugs can’t help, there are other ways to heal. I wanted the medical community to take me seriously, so I became a doctor. Doing so gives me the knowledge I need to know what will be prescribed, to know what methods to use, and to know how to treat patients when their medications have failed them.”

I raised my gaze to his and found his eyes boring into me.

“You did it for your mom,” he stated flatly.

My heart constricted painfully in my chest. I was a little unnerved that he knew me so well. “That was part of it, yes.”

“What
are
you passionate about?”

I smiled. “Music. Ancient history. And I’m mildly obsessed with cooking.”

“When you were a kid, what did you want to be?”

I laughed. “It was a toss-up between an archaeologist and a journalist for
Rolling Stone.
I would have loved to be paid to listen to music and write articles about it, about the artists. Lili and I made a pact that we would be a journalistic team. I would write, and she’d be the photographer.”

“Why didn’t you follow through with either of those?”

My gaze dropped back to my plate, my appetite now nonexistent. “Because. I just didn’t. I became a doctor instead. Rather than writing about rock stars and the music they make, I give people a way to live a pain-free life.”