Ripped (10 page)

But her door was locked.

I banged on it. “Shell, wake up.”

A muffled response from the other side of the door.

“I made breakfast,” I said.

More noises from the other side of the door.

Then Shell opened it. Her hair was mussed from sleep, and she was wearing an oversized flannel shirt that skimmed the tops of her thighs.

Wow. I hadn’t thought about her being so uncovered.

“You cook?” she said.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Are you a good cook?”

“I like it,” I said, shrugging.

“Because you’re from England, right, and English food is supposed to be horrible, not that I’d know, because I’ve never been there or anything. It’s just what you hear.”

“I haven’t lived in England since I was ten,” I said. “And if the food isn’t good, it’s because you had a shit selection.” I turned and walked up the hallway.

Within minutes, Shell had joined me. She’d taken the time to smooth her hair back into a sloppy ponytail on top of her head, but she hadn’t put on any pants or anything.

I gazed at her bare legs, wanting to pick her up, set her on the counter, and order her to slowly open her knees to me.

I sat down at the table instead and began attacking my eggs as if they had caused me personal insult.

“You’re in a bad mood,” she observed, sitting down. “Is it because you suck at getting my sister back?”

“I’m not in a bad mood.” I popped a bite of eggs into my mouth. I chewed.

She picked up a fork and shoveled some of the eggs into her mouth. “Not bad,” she said around her mouthful.

I pointed my fork at her. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?”

She blushed.

It made her look even prettier. I turned back to the food, resolving to keep my mouth shut.

“So, what are we going to do today?” she said.

Just when I decide to be quiet, she asks me a question. “
We
aren’t going to do anything.
I’m
going to go back to the drawing board, trying to figure out where Ice went. We’ve got two days. You should probably stick with me, because you might not be safe on your own, but I don’t think we should stay at your apartment any longer. Your couch is seriously uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I just sort of panicked when Celia was throwing around accusations…” She took a drink of orange juice.

“She mentioned an ex,” I said. “Is he the guy who was here last night?”

“You
were
spying on me, weren’t you?”

I shrugged. “Is he?”

“Yes,” she said. She picked up a piece of bacon and stared at it. “He’s gay.”

“I thought you said he was your ex.”

“He is. He figured out he was gay about a month before we were set to get married.”

I winced. “I’m sorry, love. That sounds…”

“It was a nightmare.”

I ran my finger around the rim of my coffee mug. “If he was gay, how come you didn’t…”

“Notice?”

I wrinkled up my nose, realizing that was probably a rude thing to ask.

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “He just seemed normal.”

“Huh,” I said, staring at my plate. I couldn’t figure how that seemed normal, but it wasn’t my place to judge. I hadn’t been there. Anyway, it was probably all a painful sort of thing to talk about for her. She probably didn’t want me asking a bunch of questions.

“You want to know about the sex, don’t you?” she said. “Everyone wants to know.”

“Do they?” I plastered a smile on my face.

“It was
fine
,” she said. “It was normal. There was nothing wrong with it.”

I raised my eyebrows.

She began to break off pieces of bacon and toss them on her plate. “I mean, sure, he wasn’t exactly great at foreplay or whatever, but most guys aren’t. And yeah, it wasn’t like I had an orgasm every time we did it, but who has sex like that anyway? No one.”

“Seriously?” I said.

She looked up at me.

We held each other’s gazes for a while.

I was the one who finally looked away. “If I’m having sex with a girl, she gets off.”

“Oh, but how can you even be sure of that?”

“I’m sure.” I looked up again. “I’m sure that you came yesterday, and that wasn’t even sex.”

She swallowed.

We were quiet again.

“This isn’t the best breakfast conversation, is it?” she muttered.

And what was I supposed to make of that? She’d hated it, hadn’t she? She’d hated that I’d blown my wad in her hand like some idiotic teenager, that I’d been so inept that I couldn’t even spread out our first sexual encounter into anything beyond something embarrassing and brief.

I shook my head into my plate.

Okay, this time for real. Keeping my mouth shut.

* * *

Shell

“Are you ever going to get dressed?” Cade growled from across the room.

I looked up from the sink where I was washing up the breakfast dishes. Since he’d cooked, I’d figured it was only fair to clean up. I gestured at my nightshirt with soapy hands. “You don’t like it?”

He stalked across the room, moving like a lithe predatory cat. “I’m trying to concentrate on figuring out where Ice might have gone.”

“Yeah, I get that, and I’m washing the dishes.”

He stepped in front of me, placing one arm on either side of me, resting his big hands on the counter next to the sink. “And every time I look up,” he said in a rough voice, “your fucking shirt is riding up higher and higher.”

“Oh,” I said quietly. “And that’s bad.”

“That’s distracting.”

I nodded slowly. Oh, man, this wasn’t good. I knew that I told myself to keep away from Cade, that getting involved with him was a disaster. But I couldn’t help liking the notion that I was distracting him, that he was mesmerized by my bare skin. That made me feel a little powerful and a lot turned on.

“So,” he said. “Are you going to get dressed?”

I smiled slowly. “You know, I’m actually very comfortable in this nightshirt.”

He made a noise of displeasure in the back of this throat, seized my hips and turned me back around to face the sink. “Wash the dishes, then. But if you aren’t going to get dressed, then I can’t be held responsible for what I do next.”

Oooh. A little tingle went through me. That threat was delicious.

His voice at my ear. “Wash.”

I plunged my hands back into the soapy water.

He grasped the hem of my nightshirt, and then he lifted it, exposing my panties.

I sucked in breath. I hadn’t given much thought to my panties. They were black cotton bikinis. Comfy but unremarkable. I honestly only had a few things that could even really be called lingerie, and I hadn’t worn them since trying to show them to Austin. He hadn’t been into it, so I’d buried them at the bottom of my drawer. Maybe that had been a sign…

But all thoughts of Austin were wiped out of my head when I felt his fingers on the back of my thighs.

Jolts of goodness went through me.

“Spread your legs a little,” he whispered.

I did.

“Good,” he purred.

Oh, fuck. I’d never really done this before either. I wasn’t a nun or anything, but most of the sex I’d had was pretty vanilla. And most guys I’d been with weren’t very vocal except for some grunts and “Oh yeah”s.

I liked being told what to do.

I liked pleasing him.

Heat gathered in my sex.

“Keep washing the dishes,” he said mildly.

I tried to scrub one of the plates, but my hands were shaking.

His fingers went under the outside elastic of my panties, one of his hands on each side, and he tugged the fabric upward, so it tucked into my crease, forming a thong shape, exposing my ass cheeks.

I let out a breath, feeling laid bare, feeling used, feeling dirty, and loving it.

He caressed both of my cheeks. His hands were warm.

My clit started to feel heavy and thick.

“You like showing me your ass, don’t you?” he breathed into my ear.

I gasped again. “Y-yes,” I admitted. This was much more exciting than I ever could have imagined.

“That’s why you wore this nightshirt. You wanted me to look at you.”

Maybe that was true.

“Is that right?” he said in a soft voice.

“Yes,” I breathed.

“That’s not a very nice thing to do, Shell. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry?” I was confused.

A crack against one of my cheeks, his open palm slapping me.

I was shocked by the stinging sensation, appalled. But then his hand was caressing the place he’d spanked. And I was flooded with a
very
pleasant sensation, more than I’d expected. My pussy clenched.

“I don’t forgive you,” he murmured. “Try that apology again.”

I closed my eyes, feeling wicked. “I’m sorry,” I said in a voice that didn’t sound the least bit sorry.

His palm cracked against my other cheek. The same motion. Sting, then caress.

“Hmm,” he said. “Someone doesn’t seem sorry at all.”

“No,” I gasped, arching my back, enjoying this. “I think you’ll really have to teach me a lesson.” I grinned at him over my shoulder.

He smiled back. “Don’t look at me. You’re supposed to be washing the dishes. After all, that was so important that you couldn’t even be bothered to put on some clothes.”

I stifled my grin, turning back to the sink. I began scrubbing a dish.

He spanked me.

I gasped.

He spanked me again.

I moaned. I set the dish in the other sink to rinse. I reached for another.

He spanked me again.

I cried out. Everything was so sensitive down there now. My whole pelvis was glowing with heat and pleasure. I wriggled my hips.

“Hold still.” His voice was strangled.

I felt his hands on my hips, holding me in place. I stopped moving, my breath coming in short, hard gusts. Everything was good right then. I was so turned on, and it all felt amazing.

He ran a hand over my back. “Good girl. You’re very obedient.” His hands seized my panties. There was a ripping sound, and then I wasn’t wearing anything. I felt the air against my wet sex. “I like that. You like doing what I tell you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

His hands explored the curves of my ass, and everything was so sensitive from the spanks that it felt glorious.

I moaned again.

“Spread your legs a little wider,” he said.

I did.

He leaned down and nipped my neck. “You’re neglecting the dishes again.”

“Sorry.” I reached for a dish.

He spanked me again.

I was taken by surprise, but it was delightful. I couldn’t help leaning my hips into his caress, as he rubbed away the sting.

“I told you to hold still.” His voice was sharp.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, shutting my eyes.

Another spank.

I moaned, but I managed to keep from moving.

“That’s better,” he murmured. “I want you just like this, Shell. Spread open for me, showing me everything, and ready to do exactly as I say.”

I sucked in breath. Holy hell, this was hot. I’d never experienced anything like this before. If you’d asked me if I thought I would have liked it, I wouldn’t have thought that I would. But now that it was happening, I realized that it was nice. And there was an intimacy to it that I wouldn’t have predicted. There was something about surrendering myself to him that was creating a bond between us. I could feel it strengthening with each command and response.

His fingers explored between my legs, touching my aching sex.

I groaned. That felt wonderful. I wanted his hands there forever.

“Oh, you’re very wet,” he said, sounding pleased. “You have a very hot little wet pussy, Shell.” He eased a finger inside me.

I clenched on him.

He chuckled. “A hungry little wet pussy.”

I gasped.

“Does this little pussy want fucked?”

“Oh, yes,” I moaned.

“You want me to fuck you just like this, bent over the sink in your kitchen?”

“Yes.”

“You want every inch of my cock slamming into you over and over again?”

“Yes, yes,” I moaned.

“I don’t know.” His finger moved up to circle my clit.

I was in a frenzy now. I moved my hips against him, moaning.

He held me in place with one hand. “I didn’t say you could move.”