Spitfire Suckerpunch (House of Pain Book 2) (12 page)

“Fuck you,” she hissed, not letting him get off that easy. She moved back into his personal space, jabbing her finger into his hard chest. “You fucked me over, so I fucked you over. You may have forgotten what happened six years ago, but I haven't.”

“Six years ago you stole a car,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Then you went to prison. That shit has nothing to do with me.”

“You know I didn't steal that car.”

“You were driving a goddamn stolen car without a license, Shay!” he growled between clenched teeth. The tension between them was thick as fog, but neither of them was backing down.

“You know why,” she said, jabbing him again with her long nail. “You fucking know why!”

“Because you're not a snitch, right?” He shrugged, but the movement was far from nonchalant. His big shoulders jerking upward violently and her muscles jerked in response to the unexpected movement. “You took the fall for him, so don't fucking complain to me about it. You had your chance to take a deal and you chose to be a martyr. That shit has nothing to do with me.”

“That's such bullshit and you know it,” she shook her head. “So it's some coincidence that you were there when they arrested me?”

“No, it wasn't a coincidence,” he said, then slapped her hand away from his chest. She took in a sharp, shallow breath, waiting to hear what he was going to say next. She wanted him to admit... well, she didn't know what she wanted him to admit exactly. Her harsh sentence was because the prosecutor wanted what she wasn't willing to give them. She just wanted proof that Tate, the one cop she'd ever trusted, was involved in her arrest. She needed proof. She didn't know why, but she did. “I was there because I knew they were going after you.”

“You knew?”

“I was there at the interrogation, too. Watching you take the fall like a fucking idiot.” He shook his head and she tightened her hands into fists.

“What did Leah say, huh?” she veered off the subject, wanting to hurt him. She wanted to rub it in that she'd gotten the better of him. She wanted the upper ground. She wanted control again. “Did she tear you a new asshole for being a cheating piece of shit?”

“You are something else,” he growled.

“Did she dump you in the middle of the restaurant?” she asked. “When you thought you were going to get your little dick sucked?” She brought her fist up, involuntarily. At that point, she was so heated she didn't even know what she was going to do. The air cracked with the possibility of violence but she was too far gone to care. “Did arresting an eighteen year old girl make you feel big? Did it make you happy to know I was in prison? Did it make the streets safer?”

“You broke the law,” he replied. “You deserved to be in prison.”

“Did I?” She pounded her fist on his chest with a thump. He was a slab of muscle under his black T-shirt, though, and he barely flinched. The fact only pissed her off more. “Did I, you fucking asshole?!” she hissed, pounding him again. He grabbed her wrist and in a flash, twisted her arm behind her back and pulled her into his chest.

“You made your choice. You chose to protect Sam Spears and that's your own goddamn foolish fault.” His eyes found hers and she wanted to smack his face. She pulled against him, trying to free herself, but he held her wrist fast, the leather of his gloves softening the sting of his fingers cutting into her skin.

“Let me go,” she said, her voice shaking. He stared down at her for what seemed like a long time. The air was suddenly so thick in the shop. It was hard to breathe. She swallowed hard and tried taking a deep breath. As her lungs filled, her body pressed against his unyielding chest. She felt her stomach clench and her mouth go dry. He was so
big
. She felt a tremor of something go through her. It wasn't fear though, although maybe it should have been. She was alone with him and he was so angry and yet... it most definitely wasn't fear. He ran his tongue over his lips and she watched him, unable to drag her eyes away from the small movement.

“Make me,” he replied after what felt like forever. His words were sharp, on edge. She didn't hesitate - she struggled against him, but she was still not able to get free. He was too strong. She felt a rush of adrenaline cut through her chest, just like the first day she'd met him in the ring.

“I don't like you,” she said, because it was the only thing she could think to say.

“I don't like you, either,” he responded. “So we're fucking even.”

“No, we're not.” She jerked against him again, trying to take him off guard. It didn't work but he did loosen his grip on her, just a bit. She twisted her arm in his grasp.

“Get free,” he said, annoyingly calm all of a sudden. “You know how.”

“Fuck you.” She kicked her leg, but he sidestepped her, like he saw it coming. So she did the next thing that came to her mind, something she never would have imagined doing in a thousand years. But with Tate, she didn't hesitate. She dropped her free hand between them and grabbed him by the balls. His face immediately tightened and her went stiff with pain, and she knew she'd gotten her point across. “I'm not an idiot,” she said, forcing her voice to be strong and clear. She tightened her grip on him, not even caring that she was probably fucking up her nails by digging them into the thick fabric of his jeans. Then she glared up at him, piss and vinegar boiling in her veins. “I'm not stupid.” She raised an eyebrow at the look on his face, a mixture of anger, surprise, and something else she couldn't quite pinpoint. “And I'm not anyone's bitch. Especially not yours.”

***

Tate was beginning to realize that Shay Spears was one big riddle, wrapped in a conundrum.

He didn't know what he'd expected to happen by tracking her down at her aunt's salon. He hadn't been thinking—he'd been too pissed to think. She was fucking with him and he wanted answers. He deserved that much after the shit she put him through the night before. It had been a mistake, he knew, now that she had his balls in her hand. There was no way that this was going to end well. He tightened his grip on her wrist as the sharp pain shot through him at her forceful grip on him. He hadn't given her enough credit, maybe. He should have known that a woman scorned was a woman he didn't want to fuck with.  But she had to know that he wasn't one to be fucked with either.

They were at an impasse, it seemed.

“I'm not scared of you,” she said, gripping his balls harder. Her dark eyes locked on his and he could see that she was telling the truth. She was pissed as hell, but she wasn't scared. She wasn't backing down, either. The thought that she wasn't cowed by his size or his anger sent a little shiver of electricity down his spine. He told himself it was the frustration of having missed his chance with Leah, but that wasn't entirely true. There was something about the way Shay was looking at him. There was something about the way her hand gripped him like she owned him, something past the discomfort and shock.

The tension in the air around them shifted and he took a deep breath, forcing it into his lungs. He'd forgotten to breathe when she grabbed him, and his heart was pounding in his chest from lack of oxygen. Her chest was almost pressed to his, her tits straining in her V-neck white T-shirt. He could see the outline of her bra through the thin cotton. He swallowed hard, unexplainable arousal blooming low in his guts.

“No,” he finally forced out, his voice strained by the delicious pain she was inflicting on him. “You're not afraid of anything, are you?” he asked and her gaze dropped to his lips. She gave him another squeeze, just for good measure. He couldn't help it—he moaned. It was too much for him to take silently. He jerked his hips, his dick calling out for attention. He didn't know why it was happening, but that didn't make it any less the truth. He was fucking horny as hell. She dragged her teeth across her bottom lip, and he knew that she knew it just as well as he did.

“Should I be afraid?” she said, her voice low and husky. Another shiver of lust wracked his body. The wonderful suffering was instant, his balls throbbing under her touch. Her arm went slack against grip, no longer fighting his grip on her wrist. “Are you going to arrest me?” She swayed her body, slightly, but it was enough for the swell of her tits to graze his chest again. He gritted his teeth against the onslaught of memories that her words brought to his brain. He remembered her as a girl, alone with him in an empty room. He remembered how her dark eyes had looked up at him then, innocent but defiant. Like a child, she hadn't wanted to get into trouble, but she also hadn't been sorry for her crime either.

As he studied her now, eight years later, he knew that whatever innocence she'd had then was long gone. He'd known it the second he saw her at House of Pain. He knew now she was full of anger and she blamed him for all the shit that she'd been through. But she was still just as defiant as ever and apparently, had developed a sadistic streak. She'd enjoyed fucking him over. She enjoyed what she was doing to him now. She enjoyed having power over him.

The thought only made his dick swell even more.

“Let me go,” she said when he didn't reply, jerking her arm against his grip.

“What if I don't?” he gritted out through clenched teeth. She pressed the tip of her tongue into the corner of her mouth and he had a sudden vision of that tongue running across the tip of his dick. He suppressed another moan, in a vain attempt to keep some dignity. Fuck, he was fucked up. He'd been in the ring with 300 pound men and not wavered. But here he was, and Shay Spears, at a mere 5' 6'' and 130 pounds on a good day, was going to fuck him up.

“You'll regret it,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. He wondered if she could read his mind. He wondered if she could see all the dirty things he was suddenly envisioning her doing to him. She damn sure could feel how hard his cock was. She knew exactly what she was inflicting on him. So, just like that, like an idiot, he dropped her wrist. He let any leverage other than his size go, more interested to see what she was going to do now that he was letting her have all the power. She yanked her hand back, her hand clenched in a fist and he wondered if she was going to hit him. But then something flashed behind her eyes and he didn't have any time to try to decipher what she was thinking before she launched herself against him. She threw her arm around his neck and pushed herself up on her tiptoes and kissed the shit out of him.

He didn't know how else to describe it, honestly.

She slanted her mouth over his and smashed her soft lips against his. Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. For half a second, he could only stand there as she assaulted his mouth with hers. But then, by some miracle, he woke the fuck up and kissed her right back. She shoved her tongue in between his lips and he met it with his own, the muscles in his stomach tightening as she loosened her grip on his balls. Then she began stroking the ridge of his erection through his jeans, her hand going up and down his bulge like she had all the time in the world. Her arm tightened around his neck and her nails grazed the sensitive skin of his neck and he jerked against her. The sensation was almost too much. If she kept touching him, he was going to come too quick and there was no way in hell that was going to happen.

He shoved her hand away from his dick and then grabbed her hips. He yanked her body against his, instantly loving the way all of her soft curves felt smashed against him. He dragged his hands around to cup her ass through the soft, stretchy fabric of her yoga pants. He flexed his hands against her ass, suddenly getting the urge to rip them off of her. She rolled her hips, her hand finding the waistband of his jeans. She yanked it down a few inches, the friction of the fabric against his dick sharp like an electric shock. He wanted to fuck, that was undeniable. The surprising thing was that Shay Spears, the girl that had haunted him for so long, apparently wanted to fuck him too.

“Do you want this?” he asked, even as her fingers gripped his waistband like she wanted to rip his pants off. He wanted to hear it from her mouth. He wanted to hear that she wanted it. He wanted to hear how she wanted it. He wanted her to tell him exactly how to please her. But, of course, she wasn't going to make it that simple. She stared at him for a moment, her swollen lips parted slightly. They were tinted pink, and he could taste her lipstick on his mouth. He liked the way it tasted. She unravelled her arm from around his neck and for a split-second, he thought she was going to reject him. For a split-second he thought he was going to die from unrequited arousal.

But it only lasted a second.

Silently, she dropped her hand to cup him again, not so softly. She dropped her eyes as well, staring at his bulge as she ran her thumb over it, her long, bright pink nail in direct contrast to the black of his jeans. Then she took a step back, pulling him with her. He gasped at the little electric shocks that ran down his legs as he stumbled forward, following her without thinking. He didn't care where she was taking him. At that point, wherever she wanted to go, he was game. She backed up, her purple Converses squeaking across the faded linoleum as she dragged him to the dark room at the back of the salon.

She threw her hand out and fumbled against the wall, flicking a light switch. The fluorescent light hummed and flickered on above their heads. They were in a small office, anchored by a desk pushed against the wall. He glanced around, noticing there were no windows or other doors out. There was no escape, for either of them. The cop in him—shit, the fighter in him, as well—didn't like being boxed in. But it was small and intimate and he could smell the fresh scent of her soap and the floral hints of her perfume mingling together in the air. She was staring up at him, her dark eyes clouded with a mixture of lust and anger. He put his hand to his mouth and gripped the leather with his teeth, pulling off his glove at the index finger. He let it drop to the floor and she followed it with her eyes. Then he removed the other one as well as she dragged her hand up his erection to the button of his fly.