Goode To Be Bad Page 7

  She curled her arm through mine. “Lexie, honey, I think you’ll find I’m a somewhat different woman than the one you knew. Lucas has changed me, and for the better. For one thing, I’m far more open about myself, who I am, and what I want. I’m not going to hide my happiness, nor am I going to pretend I’m not a physical, affectionate woman in a relationship with a lot of sexual chemistry. I’m not giving you details; I’m just not hiding it. We’re all of us adults now, honey.”

  I nodded. “Okay, who are you and what have you done with my uptight, hypermoral mother?”

  She laughed. “Lucas’s favorite thing to say to me is—”

  “LIGHTEN UP, LIV,” I heard a deep, gruff voice say.

  She laughed. “That. Come on, you two. I want you to meet Lucas.”

  I flipped my hair out of my face. “Well, we’ve already had a serious come-to-Jesus talk and I’m not even inside your condo, yet. This is gonna be a fun trip.”

  She patted my cheek. “I hope you brought your big girl panties, Lex. Shit is about to get real.”

  You could have knocked me over with a feather. “Mom! LANGUAGE!”

  There was a rough bark of male laughter from inside. “Don’t leave ’em standing out there all damn day, babe. Bring ’em in. I been dyin’ to meet this one.”

  “This one?” I echoed.

  “Oh boy, here we go,” Mom breathed. “Lex, he’s set in his ways and means nothing insulting by the things he says, so please, please don’t start any drama with him. Please.”

  “Okay, but this one? Like I’m—”

  Inside, Mom’s condo was pretty much exactly what I’d expect from her—clean, open, hyperneat, lots of elegant lines, lots of white and black with pops of color here and there. In the kitchen, standing with a hip leaned against the island counter was a grizzly bear. Or, the human version, but with massive, bulging muscles and less fur—an older, burly, tattooed, goateed version of Jupiter. Similar height—around six-six—densely packed with mammoth muscles. Close cropped salt-and-pepper hair, warm brown eyes and a mouth twisted in a wry grin.

  He was shirtless, clad in nothing but a pair of cutoff khaki shorts slung low on his hips—clearly commando underneath.

  I blinked at him. “You’re Lucas?”

  He nodded. “Sure as shit, sweetheart.”

  Myles and Mom spoke in synch while looking from Lucas to me and back again: “Oh shit.”

  “Do not call me sweetheart.” I set my bag down and crossed to face him across the island. “Let’s just get one thing straight right now, Lucas—I am not your sweetheart or your babe or your darlin’—” I gave the word a thick drawl. “I’m not your honey or your sugar. My name is Lex, or Lexie. That’s it. Got me, Mr. Muscles?”

  He blinked at me, that same wry grin on his face. “Yeah, I got you.” He eyed Mom. “Your firecracker daughter lives up to the hype, Liv.”

  “I did warn you, Lucas. So did Cass, and so has Charlie.”

  “Hey, it’s an old habit and I’m an old dog. Hard to change some things.”

  I frowned at Mom. “You guys warned him about me?”

  Mom shrugged. “Sure. You’re…well, honey, you’re sometimes somewhat…I don’t want to say difficult. Just…sharp-tongued and highly opinionated. There’s nothing wrong with being opinionated, mind you.”

  I was hurt. People had been warned about me? “Am I really that…caustic?”

  Mom smiled, but it was a little sad. “I love you, and I accept you for exactly who you are, Alexandra. But yes, you can be a little caustic sometimes.”

  That stung.

  Aaaand…cue the irrational explosion of unreasoning anger.

  “Cool.” I nodded. I felt the emotion bubbling, tried to restrain it, and lost… hopelessly. “Super cool. I’m a caustic bitch whom my mom and sisters have to warn people about. Cool.” I felt it pop—the cork on my anger. “Fuck you.” I pointed at Mom and at Lucas in turn. “Fuck you, fuck you…” I paused on Myles. “Fuck you, too. Not sure why, but I’ll find something. So fuck you, too.”

  I left my purse and my duffel bag on the floor of Mom’s kitchen and stomped out of the condo—shaking with anger, gut churning, hands trembling, heart cracked and mind splintering.

  I heard Mom— “Let her go, Myles. It’ll be a while before she cools off enough to be capable of rational conversation.”

  That didn’t help. Mainly because it was the truth.

  I shoved the door of the condo building open and walked out into a spattering of cold rain. “FUCK!” I shouted at the sky. “FUCK YOU for raining on me.”

  Screw it.

  I walked on, heedless of the cold and wet. Not caring that it was soaking my white shirt, turning it sheer, so my lace camisole was on show—an undergarment that provided little or no concealment or support. I also had no idea where I was going. I didn’t know Mom’s building or unit number. Also, my phone was back there in my purse and, I’d never been to Ketchikan before.

  They don’t call it unreasoning rage for nothing—my reason was shot to hell.

  I stomped through puddles, feeling my hair stick to my forehead, cheeks, and chin. Feeling my shirt stick to my skin. Feeling the cold and wet make my nipples stand out as hard as bullets.

  Caustic?

  Opinionated? Sharp-tongued?

  Difficult?

  A fresh burst of anger detonated inside me, and I snarled out loud. “I’m not fucking DIFFICULT!” I screamed at the heavy, dark gray sky and the silver screen of hazy, blowing rain. Which was not a spatter anymore, but a torrential downpour.

  I felt him.

  How, I couldn’t say, but I felt him.

  I spun on my heel, saw Myles a few yards behind me, just walking, following. Keeping his distance. Soaked and sexier than ever for it—pale, ripped blue jeans, a tight black T-shirt now pasted to his body like a second skin over his shredded torso. Battered brown leather Doc Martens. His ball cap, with some football team logo on the front, had rain dripping from the brim.

  “What?” I shouted. “What the fuck do you want?”

  We were at the condo complex community center—empty, the parking lot without a single car. He closed the distance between us, and I stopped.

  “What—the—fuck—do you want, Myles?” I snarled. “Didn’t you hear Mom? I’m too caustic to be around right now.”

  He just smiled at me, a soft, dare I say…affectionate smile. “I ain’t afraid of you angry, Lex. Not a bit.”

  “Yeah? Well, you should be.”

  “I’m not.” He sidled closer, and I felt my gut react, felt my core react to his proximity. Damn my body. “I have a secret weapon.”

  I now had to fight to keep my rage boiling so he couldn’t win. “And what’s that?”

  I expected him to reference his dick, but he didn’t. Instead, he closed the space between us, and his arm shot low around my hips, the other hand buried in my hair, yanking firmly on my scalp. There was no escape, none. He jerked me hard up against him, and I felt his hard-on between us, a thick ridge of taunting temptation. Felt his heart slamming against his ribs, belying his calm exterior. I fought him, and he let me.

  “Let—go, fucker!”

  I didn’t want him to seduce me out of my anger.

  He just grinned. “Say it again and mean it, and I will.”

  I opened my mouth to say it again and show him how much I meant it, but he was too quick. He used his grip on my hair to pull me close, yanking my face to his, mouth slamming on mouth, lips slashing across mine hot and hard and damp and insistent, and then before I could catch my breath or capture my thoughts, he was kissing me like the fate of the world depended on it, and his tongue was a slithering serpent in my mouth and I tasted him along with the faint tang of my own essence on his tongue from earlier along with the mint of the gum he was chewing. I stole his gum as we kissed, broke the kiss and spat it out. I regarded him from up close, his eyes merging into a single cyclopean eye, smelled his breath and his male scent.

  Kissed him. �
�Fuck you,” I snarled into the kiss. And kissed him all the harder.

  He just laughed, crouched, both hands clutching at my ass to lift me off the ground and settled me astride his lean hard hips. One arm barred under my ass, then, and the other wrapped with boa constrictor tightness around my shoulders and cupped the back of my head, crushing me back into the kiss, offering no avenue of escape. Felt us moving, his steps jarring, the ridge and bulge of his erection behind his poor overworked zipper jolting against my center.

  A pause, a pivot. His hand leaving my head and reaching away—my eyes were closed and the fervor of his slashing tongue and hungry lips allowed me no thought or comprehension of anything but his kiss, which was indeed a secret weapon against which I was utterly powerless. A doorknob twisted. More steps, now echoing in an open room. Kissing, jolting steps, each one jarring my center against him so I throbbed and throbbed and pulsed with need to have nothing between us anymore, no more jeans, no more zippers. His kiss made me insane with need, took me from rage to near-climax with nothing but the intoxicating taste and power of his damned mouth on mine.

  I growled, a distinctly unladylike sound, but fuck it, I’m not a lady. I’m all woman, and no lady. “Dammit, Myles.”

  Another pause, his hand momentarily relinquishing its grip on my hair as he opened another door. I wasn’t even sure if he was walking backward or forward, I just felt us moving through another door, sensed darkness through my closed eyes, sensed a much smaller room, and one smelling of bleach and old mops. His foot kicked what sounded like a bucket, and then he was letting me down to the floor in a tantalizing slide of my sex against his zipper. The moment my feet hit the floor, his hands were everywhere—yanking my shirt and cami down to expose my breasts with a rough bounce, and then shoving my skirt up. I heard his zipper move, and reached out for him—felt him hot and thick in my fist and the next growl I made was one of rabid need. I felt his fingers at my opening, tugging my thong aside. I stroked him, but he knocked my wrist away, grabbed me by shoulders and spun me around. I caught up against the cold metal of a door, felt it against my cheek and chest, and he was fingering me, making me move and moan as he touched me just right. I had no chance to speak, just his body behind mine and his fingers teasing my nether lips open and then he was inside me—I cried out at the sudden splitting intrusion of his hard, thick huge cock driving into me, squelching wet and fast into me.

  Bare.

  Wrong.

  Wrong.

  He couldn’t be in me bare.

  No, no…

  But if felt so right, his beautiful perfect cock so big I ached to accept him, and so long he filled me and then some, and so hard and so warm I felt his veins stuttering against my tight-stretched sex. I wanted this. Wanted him bare. Wanted him to fuck me and never stop, wanted in a sudden and desperate way to feel him come, just like this, right the hell now, bare.

  But panic seared through me and I reached back, grabbed at him. “No, no! Myles—”

  He was already pulling out, making me ache with emptiness and starving for him. “Relax, Lex. I know.” I heard a condom packet. “Think I go anywhere without a condom when I’m with you? Hell no.” His hand moved against my ass, the movement of him rolling the condom on.

  I ached. Throbbed. Needed.

  He teased my slit with his fingers again, tugging aside my thong, locating my opening in the total darkness—there was no light but a tiny crack near the floor, little enough that I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face. Found me, and then his fat tip split me open and I surged back against him, maybe even before either of us were ready, slamming him home, deep.

  His hips slapped loud against my ass cheeks. He reached around my front and cupped both tits in one hand, a rough clutch, my nipples squeezed together in his hand. He held me upright, pushed me against the door, cheek against it. His lips touched my ear as he used his other hand to find mine, guided my fingers to my clit. “Make yourself come, Lex. Now. Right the fuck now. This is gonna be fast and I need to feel you come.”

  I had no choice but obey, and even that was conflicted—I wanted to do exactly that, make myself come while he was inside me and coming, but being told what to do made me want to the exact opposite. Sexual need won out over psychological, though, and I pressed the tips of my three middle fingers to my clit and whipped them back and forth in a fast light touch. It was immediate—the searing heat in my core building as I worked myself into a wild frenzy within seconds.

  “You want to come with me, you better come now,” I said through gritted teeth.

  He clutched my tits with rough affection, lips on my ear, voice a low ragged snarl. “Right now, Lex? You want me to come right now?”

  I was shuddering, shaking already—his kiss and my own anger and the suddenness of this tryst had me on the edge faster than ever and I was always quick to come at least once, and there I went—my body wanted to arch forward as I cried out through a sudden and wrenching and lightning-hard orgasm. I felt myself squeeze around him, my pussy clenching so hard the muscles ached with spastic tightness around his iron-hard cock.

  I was coming, and he hadn’t even thrusted once.

  Ohhh fuck, there he was. He pulled back and drove back in, hard—hard. Our bodies met with a clap of flesh, my sex wet and squelching around him. “Fuck, Lex. You better come again.”

  I kept going, kept touching myself, obeying him with blind instinct and need—he needed me to come as bad as I needed to come again, needed to feel myself spasm around him as he cut loose. And even now, in the throes of this, I felt a wrench in my soul, a reminder of how fucking insanely badly I wanted to feel him come bare inside me, a stupid, foolish, weak, idiotic, crazy need. My fingers flew around my clit and I felt him moving, felt his flesh sliding against my knuckles as he entered me.

  Twice, then, slow but hard.

  Then, as if giving up some restraint he was fighting for, he fucked me up against the door so I slammed into it—he let go of my breasts and I felt them smash flat as he filled me, driving me against the door and lifting me up onto my toes with the force of his thrust. His lips never left my ear, his huffing breath loud, and his growls louder, his chest against my back. I felt the tremors begin inside me, and now he was moving steadily, faster and faster with each stroke. Each time he filled me, I was lifted up onto my toes and slammed against the door—he was not being gentle, not at all.

  It made me come so hard I saw stars flash against the inside of my closed eyelids, or maybe my eyes were open. I was screaming, loud, throat-searingly loud. Trying to meet his thrusts, but he had me pinned against the door, immobilized. He was simply taking me. Fucking me.

  I loved it.

  And I hated myself for loving the way he used me. The way he could just…seduce and screw me right out of my rage. He knew he could, and I was helpless to stop it. Because I wanted him, no matter what. Even in the fires of my blind rage, my body reacted to his—

  More infuriating still, it was more than just my body reacting and I knew it, and I fucking hated that truth.

  Hated that I knew it, that I was still trying to deny it, hated that I couldn’t’ deny it—hated everything about this entire situation—except how motherfucking perfect we felt together.

  How perfect he could make me feel.

  The only time I felt perfect, in fact, was—

  I tore that thought out of my brain before it could complete itself, threw my body back against his to take his cock hard and deep, the wrenching ache of him inside me shredding and shearing away any capacity for rational thought. Even emotions faded in sun-hot glory as our bodies crashed together.

  I was crying. Weeping.

  Screaming.

  Wordless, not even his name—too lost in a wild ecstasy to form words.

  Ecstasy became something else as his grunts became desperate, as his thrusts turned frantic. I was on my toes, and he was thrusting so hard it hurt but in the most incredible possible way, and he was fucking hard and fast, and I was jostl
ed and jounced and slammed against the door, the cold metal smooth and slick against my cheek and tits.

  “Come—come,” I whisper-shrieked. “Come, goddammit! I’m coming, Myles—come with me!”

  He snarled, the ragged desperate snarl of rabid wolf and I felt it shock through him. My command was the trigger for his obedience: I told him to come, and he came. He lifted up on his toes, and his arms wrapped around me, clutching roughly at tits and hips, staggering backward a step so he could lift me off the floor, arching backward so I was suspended an inch off the floor, impaled on his cock as he slammed up into me, deeper and deeper, harder and harder, not trying to pull away now, just to get deeper into me—there was no deeper he could go, he was so fully buried inside me and was so huge, so long, so thick there was nowhere else to go. I screamed again as my orgasm shredded me into sobbing pieces, and then he was coming, roaring in my ear, slamming up even harder into me so my whole body bounced upward, and I felt—felt, even through the layer of latex separating us the force of him emptying himself into me...into the condom—

  My world tilted, lights and stars flashed, my head spun, and a scene flashed through my mind, a memory of something which hadn’t happened yet:

  Myles, on his knees behind me; we were on a carpeted floor, and I was on my hands and knees. A mirror was in front of us, a full-length mirror. Showing all of him, upright behind me, forearms corded as he gripped my hips, clawing at my ass cheeks as he drove himself into me. I shook all over, and my mouth was wide as I screamed his name and my tits were swaying under me with the force of his crazed thrusting and his abs were so hard-tensed with exertion they may as well have been carved from marble, and his eyes were fierce on mine in the mirror—

  * * *

  He was bare inside me

  and I was loving it

  taking every slamming thrust of his naked cock into me, relishing the slick smooth slide of skin on skin

  the heat of him and the wetness of me

  our lovemaking was poetry

  a symphonic crescendo of emotion mashed inextricably into physicality