Spitfire Suckerpunch (House of Pain Book 2) (19 page)

“Fair enough,” he said, not able to contain a wide smile.

***

Shay rolled over on the soft mattress, throwing her arm over her eyes when a bright light shone into them. She yawned, the realization coming over her that she was naked. Very naked.  She dropped her arm and rolled her head to the side to look around. She was still at Tate's, she realized, as her eyes adjusted to the light. The bedside lamp was on and she looked around the room. Before, it'd been dark, but now she could see where she was. His bed was big, a king-sized she guessed, covered in a fluffy, light gray comforter. Three of the walls were a dark slate blue and one was exposed brick. The bedframe was metal, and the other furniture—two bedside tables and a dresser—were sturdy wood. It was a simple room, but it seemed like him. Manly. Uncomplicated. Serious. She wrapped her arms around herself, leaning forward to glance out the door into the living room. She didn't see him out there and he surely wasn't in the bedroom.

Scooting to the edge of the bed, she looked around on the floor for her clothes. She found her sweater and leaned over the side to grab it. She had to get home she decided, as she pulled it over her head. There was no way she was going to spend the night with Tate Grayson. That was something she just couldn't do. The sex was above and beyond, but she'd known it would be. The night in the salon was just a taste of what he was capable of. He fucked with a passion that was almost scary. The words he'd said and the way he touched her and the way he'd thrown her around like she weighed nothing – it was intense. She didn't know how to describe it any other way. He'd made it so easy to get lost in him and she had. She supposed it was her fault for teasing him for so long, but now she was the one who was left wanting. Her whole body was calling out for more.

She didn't know when she would recover.

Shay didn't have much sexual experience, but damn, he was on some next level shit. The boys she'd fucked as a teenager in no way compared. Hearing his gruff voice in his ear while he thrust his big dick in and out of her... well, that had been almost too much. She'd almost gone out of her mind. Her orgasm had been nothing like the self-indused ones she was used to. It was wilder, harder, less contained. More all-encompassing. She was already becoming an addict. She saw how her aunt acted around her new paramours, like good sex was the utmost, most important thing. Shay had always thought she knew better. There were things more important than sex. Self-reliance, independence, education. Those were the important things in life. But now she wasn't so sure. The only thing she was sure of was that she was complicating everything by fucking him, but she couldn't seem to help herself.

“What are you doing?” his voice cut through her thoughts. She jumped and glanced up, like he'd caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. He was standing in a doorway to a room adjacent to the bedroom, which was apparently a bathroom. He was wearing only a dark gray towel slung low on his hips. Drops of water glittered on his chest and in his short, cropped hair.

“Getting dressed,” she said, like it was obvious. He didn't respond, just clicked his tongue and sauntered across the room. He pulled the towel off and tossed it onto a chair in the corner and she sucked in a breath, because he was so damn beautiful it was almost hard to look at him. In the low light, his muscular body was highlighted to perfection. She didn't want to look, but she couldn't help but study him and memorize every limb. She'd never been with a guy like him before. She'd never even found a white guy attractive before Tate. Even though he claimed he technically wasn't white, he still looked like it. In her old life, she never would have even considered him. But times had changed. Besides, Tate was worth it, as far as Shay was concerned. He had proved it.

Unfortunately, like everything in life, their night together was coming to an end. She had to cut herself off cold turkey, or she knew it was only going to go from bad to worse. So she forced herself to stop studying him. Instead, she searched for her clothes. She spied her bra on the floor close to his foot and she held out her hand. “Can you hand me that?”

“No,” he said, stopping at the foot of the bed.

“Why not?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Because you're not leaving.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair, sending drops of water flying.

“Oh really?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. He nodded his head, dropping one knee to the mattress. She leaned back, putting more distance between them. The look in his eyes was a little concerning. She didn't know exactly what she'd expected from him, in all honesty. A satisfying fuck and then an awkward goodbye had seemed most likely. “I don't...” she trailed off, trying to think of some reason why she had to go home right then. He closed his big hand around her ankle and she bit down on her lip, all thoughts fleeing her brain. She knew there was a good reason somewhere, but she just couldn't think of it. He grabbed her other ankle, his touch warm and solid, but still soft, like he was afraid of hurting her. Then he yanked her down to the foot of the bed, like she was his to do with what he liked.

She fell over onto her back at the force, throwing her arms over her head. She shivered, wondering what he was planning for her. Her bottom half was bared to his gaze and he was taking advantage, studying her like he wanted to memorize every inch of her. His eyes stopped on the tattoo she had on her ribs under her left breast. He lifted one big hand and dragged his thumb across the inked word etched in her flesh in calligraphy.

Sugar
.

She'd gotten the tattoo a few months before she'd been arrested when having ink seemed like the baddest thing ever. She honestly didn't think about it much, the little tattoo. Hardly anyone called her Sugar anymore; it was a silly childhood nickname her mother had given her. But watching him discover the tattoo, she was suddenly very happy she'd gotten it. It hadn't escaped her notice that he was oddly tattoo free. She'd expected him to be as tatted up as the other fighters at House of Pain, but he wasn't. The only discolored space on his pale skin was the large burn on his chest. The ruined flesh was darker than the rest of him. She clenched her fingers as the desire to run her fingers all over his chest came to her. She wondered again if the scar was more sensitive or less sensitive to her touch? She wanted to find out.

She brought her knees together and tried to raise up on her elbows, but he grabbed her knees and pushed them back open. He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to the soft spot right below her bellybutton and her brain short-circuited. Then he nipped at her skin and she jerked against him, her hands flying down and slapping his shoulders. It came to her in a flash what he was planning to do.

“Oh...” she groaned, halfway between wanting to tell him to stop and wanting to push his head down further. He'd already been inside of her, but this felt too intimate, somehow. He'd already licked her pussy once that evening and it had almost made her brain explode. He would be focused completely on her pleasure, his mouth on the most sensitive and secret part of her. She wasn't scared, exactly, she was just... unprepared.  The feelings he was stirring up in her were already too intense. She dug her nails into his shoulders as he flicked his tongue out to taste her skin. “Tate,” she whispered. He opened his eyes and looked at her, his eyes dark with wanting.

“You still want to go home?” he asked, lowering himself on top of her, forcing her thighs open to accommodate his broad chest. He ran his palms up the dip of her stomach and under the hem of her sweater. She arched her back involuntarily as his warm hands cupped her breasts, like her body was starving for his touch. He nibbled at her abdomen again, trailing his mouth over to her hip. He ran his tongue across the line of her tattoo and then bit down on the ridge of her hip bone. A pang of almost painful lust shot through her and she bucked against him, bringing her knees up at his sides. She wanted to fuck again, yes she did. All he had to do was touch her, barely touch her, and she was ready for him. She told herself that it was all the years she'd been deprived of sex, but that was such a fucking lie.

It was Tate. All Tate.

“Let me,” he said, his breath teasing her sensitive skin. Under her sweater, he pinched her nipples softly and she had to clench her jaw against the overwhelming sensation. She wanted his mouth on her tits. She wanted him to suck and lick her and fuck her until she went completely out of her mind. And yet, in that moment, it sounded perfectly sane. When he took his hands away, she frowned in disappointment. “Tell me what you want,” he said, pulling himself up onto his elbows and hovering over her.

“What do you want?” she asked, turning it back around on him. It was fairly obvious what he wanted to do right about then, but she still wanted to hear it from his mouth. He shook his head slowly.

“You're still playing with me,” he said, his voice low. “I don't like it.”

“I'm not.” She brought her hands to his face, running her thumbs across his sharp cheekbones. “I just want to hear you say it.” He stared down at her, like he didn't quite believe her. She swept her eyes all over his face, taking in everything, from the small raised scar over his left eye to his chipped front tooth to the mole on his chin. He was so damn attractive. “Say it,” she mouthed.

“I want to eat your pussy,” he said and she shivered, taking a second to let his words sink in. He dropped his face to her chest and nudged his nose across her sweater, like he couldn't get enough of the way she smelled. “I want to bury my face in your cunt,” he continued, his voice muffled. She arched her back, the movement causing her aching nipples to graze the soft fabric of her sweater. She moaned involuntarily, even though he was barely touching her. “Can I?” he asked, almost innocently, like he actually thought she might say no. She wasn't that cruel. Any thoughts of leaving had faded from her mind anyway. At that point, she didn't even know if she remembered how to get back to Gina's place.

“Mm-hmm,” she moaned in agreement, running her tongue across her dry lips. He pushed himself up on his arms, hovering over her. Free of his weight, she threw her legs open so quick she was surprised she didn't dislocate her hip. He made a low sound deep in his chest, like he was just as ready as she was. He moved southward with a quickness, dragging his hand down her left inner thigh to her knee.

Then he attacked.

Shay went rigid as his tongue licked a slow circle around her clit. It took all of her willpower not to jerk back and away from the overpowering sensation. As if sensing her distress, he placed his other hand flat on her stomach, holding her down. He hinged her knee upwards, opening her up for him even more. She fisted her hands in the blanket above her head, trying to hold on as he sucked her into his mouth. She bit down on the inside of her cheek as he flicked his tongue against her as he sucked. He wasn't rushing, though. He was taking his time, moving his tongue slowly, languidly, like he had all night. She threw her head back, her whole body taut as he tortured her. When she thought she couldn't take anymore, he pulled back.

“Is that what you like?” he asked, his voice rough but soft. “I only want to do what you like.” Then he ran his tongue up her slit, almost as an afterthought, moaning like he loved the way she tasted.

“I like it,” she breathed, surprised she was able to form words.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked. Then he lapped at her clit again before thrusting his tongue inside of her. Her thighs clenched and she bucked her hips in response.

“Do that,” she said. His fingers were roaming on her stomach, up under the hem of her sweater again. He licked at her, dragging his tongue up and down her sensitive flesh.

“This?” he asked, slowly swirling his tongue around her clit again.

“Oh!” She nodded, clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle the scream that followed. What had she been missing all these years? Too much, apparently. He sucked, hard, and she dug her heel into the mattress and tried to push away from him. He wrapped his hand in her sweater and caught her before she could move, lifting his head to look at her.

“You don't like that?” he asked, breathing hard. She shook her head, but not because she didn't like it. Because she did like it. She definitely liked it. But it was all too much. She wasn't used to the intensity of what she was feeling. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he said, and she swore, her heart stopped.
That word
. It wasn't a particularly original endearment and out of any one else's mouth, she wouldn't have thought twice about it. But for some reason, the word 'baby' dripped from his lips like honey and she went liquid, letting her thighs drop open again. She would be his baby for the night, if that's what he wanted. Just like that, she was ready for anything and everything he wanted to do. If she broke into a million little pieces, than that's what would happen. She would figure out how to put herself back together later.

“Do it,” she said, swallowing hard. “Do it again.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and then he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. A dark look crossed over his face and she braced herself. He untangled his hand from her sweater and then he slid both of his hands under her, hooking them over her hips. He yanked her closer, his biceps flexing with the exertion. She dug her heels in, trying to steel herself for what he was about to do.

“You ready?” he asked, his eyes hooded with lust. She swallowed again and nodded, telling herself that she was ready. The corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile and she felt her stomach drop. Nope, she wasn't ready, but it was too late. He dropped his head and kissed her pussy again, like he loved it. The fact that he was enjoying it as much as she was only turned her on more. He locked his hands on her hips and sucked on her clit, flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue at the same time. She moaned, squeezing her eyes shut and hinging her hips upward. He held on, loving her with his tongue until she didn't know if she could take anymore. She raked her hands through his hair, needing to feel him, somehow. He moaned into her, lavishing her like he was just as turned on as she was, although she didn't know that was possible.