Chapter 4 #4
Suddenly, I want to take what I can from every minute of this.
Rig’s back in my bed. Is Dave with me for any reason other than it’s something he doesn’t have to work too hard for?
No. And I’m so tired of being taken advantage of by the guys in this town.
I understand Rig’s doing that, too, but it was good last time.
It was also fast and furious, and I didn’t get to be on top. But Rig does need to know where I’m at.
“I’ve been seeing someone,” I start.
His lips trails down my neck. “Don’t give a fuck about that, babe. You can ditch him.”
“What?”
“Well, you wouldn’t be kissing me if you liked him, would you?”
Oh my God, men. The arrogance of it! I open my mouth to tell him to get the fuck off me, but he silences me again by kissing me, and my whole body dissolves into the mattress. Goddammit.
“I want to be on top,” I gasp out.
He rolls off me and onto the faded patterned comforter, puts his hands behind his head, and studies me with heated eyes.
“Have at it, babe.”
This is just sex for him, clearly. It can be just sex for me, too, though. Why not? And it was good last time. Really good.
My fingers find the edge of his T-shirt, and I push it up. Washboard abs appear, then a smattering of hair covering firm pecs and nipples. I bend my head and test my teeth on one of them. He groans, pushing up to sitting and breaking my hold as he whips off his T-shirt, tossing it across the room.
His hands come to my waist, and he squeezes, chest tightening. He’s so goddamn huge, muscles bulging from his shoulders and his biceps, now all covered in red welts and bruises that are starting to come up under his skin. I run my hand over him.
“We need to put something on these …”
He silences me with a long, slow kiss. Pushing my hair over my shoulder, I grab the bottom of my own top and pull it up and over my head.
There’s nothing underneath, and his eyes go molten as my breasts rise as I stretch up, his hands coming up to cup them as he squeezes and shifts his hips, pressing his hard length into my crotch.
I throw my T-shirt behind me and lean forward into his erection, watching how his gaze doesn’t move from his hands on me.
His fingers tighten, stretched over every part of my chest, one thumb rubbing gently over a tight nipple.
He presses up into me again, right where I want it.
So hot. But I know from the first time that he’s big, and no way am I ready.
Can he read that thought in my face? His hands drop to the waistband of my leggings, pulling them down over my hips, and I move off him to shuck them off.
When I shift back over him, his hand is up my thigh and under the edge of my panties, a long finger finding my entrance and circling as he rubs his thumb over my clit.
With my knees spread wide, his touch is light and teasing, just enough to make tingles travel through every part of my pelvis.
I push into his hand, and he growls, his other hand sliding into my hair.
He holds me where he wants me as he runs his tongue up my neck, testing his teeth gently below my ear as his fingers toy with me and I move my hips against his hand.
“Yeah, babe,” he says hoarsely as he bites my lobe, and I let out a short yelp.
And all of a sudden, I’m desperate to get him inside me. My hands land on his chest and slide down to where he’s confined behind his jeans, skating my fingers over where he’s hard. His hand tightens in my hair, and he flicks my clit once and I shiver.
“Two can play that game; remember where I’ve got my finger.” He does something inside me that makes my eyes roll into the back of my head.
The button on his waistband is stiff as I fumble with it, pulling down his zip and sliding my hand underneath the denim. He’s not wearing any boxers. And he’s huge and hot and hard in my hand. A beat goes by … two. He chuckles.
“We’ll be okay, babe. It was fuckin’ great last time.”
My heart does a little flip. “You’re intimidating, size-wise.”
“I’ll make sure you’re wet enough.”
His thumb on my clit rubs back and forth, and I run my finger over the tip of him, making him shudder.
“Don’t do too much of that or I’ll shoot off like a teenager. I’ve been on a rig for a month with only my hand for company. That’ll break the spirit of any sane man.”
I’ve never been one to play by the rules, though, so I do it again to him, and his cock jumps. Holy shit. So responsive.
Whatever he’s doing between my legs is so goddamn perfect that I can’t help but roll my hips into him. And after I’ve done it a few times, he narrows his eyes: “I want you rolling like that when you’re riding my dick.”
Lifting up and shifting back, I pull at his waistband.
He lifts his pelvis, and I drag his jeans down and off, getting my first real glimpse of his length, sticking straight up from his body.
My mouth waters, so I give the tip of him a lick as I crawl back up to sit over his legs.
He growls at me, eyes dark and stormy as I grin. His hands tighten on my thighs.
“Babe. The first time we had sex, you were so hot and tight I thought my head was going to explode. How do you think this is helping?”
I pout, and he smiles. “Who’d have thought you were such a minx in bed? You always seemed to me like a quiet, sensible girl.”
What? He noticed me before I chatted him up in Callahan’s? I don’t believe it.
“Don’t try and pretend that you’d noticed me before I picked you up.”
“Babe.”
“What does that mean, ‘Babe’?”
He shakes his head. “You know how you look.”
“Old and sad?”
His mouth thins into a straight line. “I’m not having this conversation while you’re sitting on my knee with no top on.”
I start to bend over to grab my T-shirt, but he knifes up, wrapping his arms around me and locking me to his chest as he falls back down. We’re nose to nose now. His face is like a thundercloud, and I lick my lips.
“You’re a good-looking girl. You know that. You’re not old and sad. But most guys don’t want to take you on.”
My heart hammers. “Take me on?”
His arms tighten. “Most men understand they got a job to do to straighten themselves out: They don’t want to take on a woman that they have to straighten out, too.”
And ouch, that hurts. But he’s not wrong. He must see something in my face because his eyes soften as he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it to come out quite like that. I …”
“Do all men think like that?” I interrupt.
He examines me for a couple of beats and runs his tongue over his lips.
“Not the lazy ones who don’t give a fuck as long as they’re getting laid, and, babe, you’re a great lay, but most guys won’t stick around with a woman who might mess their lives up as much as hers is messed up.
” He purses his lips. “What you gotta remember is guys are shit-scared half the time. They don’t have the headspace to deal with another fucked-up person. ”
I swallow. Not sure I’m thrilled with being described as fucked up.
“Do you think like that about me?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not looking for a woman long-term.
Tried that when I was younger; not doing that shit now.
No bones about it: They don’t want to stick with me, either.
I’m away on the rigs a lot. It’s dangerous and stressful, and I’m exhausted when I’m back and not decent company.
Then I’m back out there again.” He gestures toward the window.
“I don’t talk much. I’m not a sharer. I’m not a good bet, either. ”
“What’s your longest relationship?”
“A coupla years. A long time ago.”
“Who was she?”
“Sadie.” He props one hand behind his head. “It was brutal.”
“Did you love her?”
He shrugs. “I probably thought I did at the time, but it went bad and fell apart. Took a while for me to work out what she was like.”
Tell me about it. “If some guy loved me, I wouldn’t be able to walk away from it. I don’t think it’s ever happened before.” I swallow hard, trying to ease the tightness in my throat.
His eyes flick over my hair and my face, and he grabs me by the neck and pulls me into him. “You’re a good woman, Carly. You’ll find someone.”
His hand drops away and he gestures between the two of us. “This is what happens to fucked-up people who aren’t a good bet: They can never climb out of the hole they’re in. No point in fighting it—you’ve got to accept the life you’ve been dealt. Bottom of the heap.”
My throat tightens and my eyes are scratchy. “You keep saying I’m fucked up.”
Impatience dances across his face. “We’re all fucked up, babe. You’d have to be a saint to have it straight and easy. I don’t know any saints.”
I don’t know any, either. He sighs and slides his hand up my back into my hair, pulling my face toward his as he kisses me. “Think I killed the mood, didn’t I?”
My nose smarts as tears start to gather in the corner of my eyes, and goddammit, I don’t want to cry on him. I pull back and he groans.
“Fuck, I’m an asshole. I shouldn’t have said all that to you.”
“No,” I say, taking a deep breath and straightening up. “You’re not wrong, and I’d rather know what people think of me.”
He eyes me warily. “You’ve been drunk in that bar a lot, and Marni’s not quiet when she’s wasted.”
“What do guys think about her?”
“Babe, I …”
I make a face at him and he sighs. “She’s a maniac, and men don’t go for maniacs, either, because she’s going to land you in worse trouble than you’ve ever been in.”