His Hellcat (Sassy Girls Book 1) Read online

  I’m not one of those chicks that have cute little tears and make those quiet little noises. No, I cry so rarely that when I do it’s like my body is making up for lost time. Basically, I ugly cry—hiccupping sobs, red eyes, red face, complete with snot kind of ugly. Some first impression I’m making with this man who means so much to my brother. I try several times to pull away from him so I can go cry in private, but each time I pull away he pulls me closer and holds me tighter. Finally, I give in and let go of it all, while holding onto the man like he’s the last life preserver on a tumultuous sea.

  At some point in my sob-fest Hutch moves us over to the couch and pulls me onto his lap, holding me close. His hands rub soothingly over my back while he murmurs words of encouragement. After one final shuddering breath, I pull back enough to look up at him, fully aware I’m tearstained and snot nosed. I offer a watery smile, hoping that maybe I don’t look as horrifying as I feel. “Thanks for that… I... um…” I struggle with what I want to say. What do you say to a man who just showed you more affection within the first ten minutes of meeting him, than the man you were supposed to marry? I don’t know either.

  “Thanks,” I finally say. Lamely, I might add.

  He brushes a chunk of my tangled, wet hair out of my eyes. “We all have to break sometimes, Blake. I’m just glad that you weren’t alone when it happened.”

  His words are so kind that I nearly fall apart again. Instead, I pull up my big girl panties and choke it back. “Thanks.” I smile again. “Honestly, I came here for solitude, but I’m pretty glad you ruined my plans.”

  Hutch chuckles, then taps my hip indicating I should stand up. “Let’s get you cleaned up and get you something to eat. Would you like some coffee?”

  I scrunch my nose in disgust and stick my tongue out. “No coffee, but I could definitely go for getting cleaned up. Even I’m kind of disgusted with me right now,” I joke, holding out my arms and looking down at my disheveled state.

  His eyes follow mine and I swear I see flash of desire in his eyes, but he quickly shutters his expression so I can’t be sure. He nods down the hall towards the bedrooms and bathrooms. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

  “Okay.”

  Shutting myself in the bathroom, I finally catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Let’s just say that the Swamp Thing ain’t got nothing on me baby.

  Holy fuck.

  My hair is in horrific clumps. My eyes are bloodshot from crying and the eyeliner that I had painstakingly applied around my lashes is smeared so badly it could be confused for the eye black that athletes wear. My cheeks are still pink from crying and I have a mud trail from the apple of my left cheek all the way down my neck. My dress is dripping wet and caked with mud from my falls on the porch. I can honestly say that I have never, ever looked this rough and that is saying a lot considering some of the shit I’ve gotten myself into before.

  The old pipes creak and moan as I turn on the taps before water gurgles out of the faucet and into the tub. This was always one of my favorite parts of coming here. I may have been a tomboy growing up, but I loved baths. Granddaddy always spoiled me with getting bubbles and those fizzing bath balls. With there being eight of us at home we didn’t get the luxury of baths. We had timed showers so that we all got clean without running out of hot water. So, whenever I was here, it was a treat to take a bath and play in the water as long as I wanted.

  I pull my ruined dress over my head and drop it into the sink so it won’t soak the floor. The jar of bath fizzers on the counter causes my heart to constrict. There isn’t a single day that passes where I don’t miss my Granddaddy.

  I strip out of my black lace panties and toss them on top of the dress before stepping into the tub and closing the tattered shower curtain. The water pressure leaves something to be desired, but the heat from the water is heavenly. I work the shampoo into my hair and for the first time ever, I actually follow the wash, rinse, repeat instructions.

  2

  Hutch

  I’m going to fucking kill him. I can’t believe Drake! Motherfucker. He said I would be alone up here. “Go to my cabin,” he said. “It has been empty for years,” he said. I continue to mock my friend as I search through the meager supplies I brought trying to find something for Blake to eat.

  “Fuck!”

  I run my hands through my hair for the umpteenth time since I opened the front door to find a disheveled, soaked to the bone goddess ranting to herself on the front porch. I can’t believe the luck. I came here to get away from people, especially women. When my wife found out I was being discharged due to the injuries I sustained, she decided to come clean about the fact that she had been cheating on me and wasn’t ready to give up her lovers. Yes, lovers, plural. So, one divorce and several mandatory therapy sessions later, I decided I needed a break.

  The therapist says I have PTSD, which for me is just a fancy way of saying I’m fucked the hell up. I know it’s common, but I can’t help feeling like a pussy. Anxiety isn’t something I understand and fear is not a feeling I am accustomed to. As a soldier I was unstoppable. As a civilian, the grocery store feels like I have a dozen enemy soldiers breathing down my neck, ready to end my miserable existence. After I freaked the fuck out at Wal-Mart and nearly ran down a family of four trying to get out of the store because someone dropped a can of green beans on the floor, I decided it was time I got my shit together my own way.

  Alone.

  I find it hard to believe Drake would send me here knowing Blake would be coming, so she must not have planned this trip. Which would make sense since it’s obvious she’s running from something or someone. Her brother needs a serious wakeup call; his ‘little’ sister isn’t a little girl anymore. She is the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. It took running through every drill song I know—twice—to keep my cock at half-mast while I held her.

  I’m such an asshole.

  The poor girl is obviously going through some shit and the only thing I could think of was how her dress accentuated her tits perfectly and if I didn’t know any better, I would guess she wasn’t wearing a bra because the tight buds of her nipples poked at the fabric in the most delicious way.

  Reaching down I adjust myself in an attempt to relieve a bit of pressure. If I can’t get control of myself this isn’t going to end well. I know Drake wouldn’t appreciate my ogling his sister and would certainly rip my balls off if I fucked her.

  Right now, I almost don’t care about the risk to my junk. At this very moment, the only thing I can think of is sinking balls deep in her lush little body and riding her long and hard. It’s been months since my cock has had attention from a woman and he’s taken on a mind of his own. Just knowing Blake is naked in the shower right this very second is enough to short-circuit my brain. I’ll never survive staying in this cabin with her.

  Finally, I manage to focus on the task at hand—food. With not much to choose from, I decide on creamy tomato soup and grilled cheese. Soup and a buttery, cheesy hot sandwich have always been a go-to comfort food for me.

  I have the soup warming on the stove and the sandwiches nearly done when I hear the creak of the bathroom door opening, followed by her light footsteps. Steeling myself for her inevitable approach, I take a couple of deep breaths and remind my cock to mind his manners.

  I don’t know who I’m trying to kid. I’m a horny bastard and fate just dished up one fine ass temptation.

  “Something smells delicious.” Her voice is like a shockwave straight to my gut. Jesus help me out here or I’m going to do something very dishonorable.

  Focusing on flipping the sandwiches again even though it’s completely unnecessary, I bark my response. “Just soup and grilled cheese. Nothing fancy.”

  “Oh.” Her reply is timid and there isn’t a single sign of the earlier feistiness I witnessed on the porch. I instantly feel like a dickhead and almost hope Drake finds out about it and kicks my ass.

  Having stalled as long as I can, I slide the sandwi
ches onto the plates and ladle out the soup. Turning to the table with her steaming bowl and plate, I almost drop them to the ground when I see that Blake is wearing my nearly threadbare terrycloth robe and I assume nothing more.

  Holy fucking shit.

  My cock is instantly rock hard and throbbing behind my zipper. If I were a dog I would be humping her leg right now. Hell, I’m tempted to hump her leg anyway. I keep telling my body to move and put the food on the table, but even though my synapses are firing away, my body is frozen. My eyes are glued to her lush curves and I swear my mouth is watering at the thought of diving between those milky white thighs I got a glimpse of earlier.

  “Sorry, I…um…I guess this is probably yours.” Her hands sweep down her body indicating the robe. “I realized after my shower I didn’t have anything else to wear.”

  She looks down at her feet and she blushes. I swear to everything that is holy, she is the sexiest thing I have ever seen. If I didn’t already crave her, I would be totally lost at the vulnerable sight she presents standing there in my robe with pink cheeks. She’s a total package. Feisty, yet sensitive, and her body is beyond words.

  “Of course, it’s okay. No worries, just caught me off guard is all. After you eat, I will find you something more comfortable to put on.”

  Something with many more layers to hide that incredible body of yours, I finish to myself while setting her food down.

  She quickly takes a seat, pulling her legs up in the chair underneath her before tucking into the simple meal. “Mmm, this is awesome,” she says around a mouthful of melted cheese. “I can’t remember the last time I had a grilled cheese sandwich.”

  I can’t help staring at her throat as her muscles move to work the food down. Even that simple motion is tempting. I want to lick and suck a trail down her throat to her chest then… No!

  Dammit, I can’t be thinking about these things, especially not with this woman. I need to focus on something else, anything else.

  “This is one of my favorites.” I bite into my own sandwich savoring the cheesy goodness. “I figured you could use some comfort food and this is about as comforting as a person can get.”

  She giggles at that and it’s not one of those annoying little giggles girls do when they are flirting. This is a cute, shy, and completely unexpected giggle. One that I can’t help but return with a light laughter of my own.

  “My fiancé,” her face blanks and I see a flash of that pissed off woman I found on the porch, “my ex-fiancé,” she amends, “would have never allowed something as simple as this to grace our dining table.”

  “He sounds like a piece of work.”

  “You have no idea,” she says. A sad look crosses her face before she shutters the expression.

  “So tell me.” Not liking that look of unhappiness and determined to know what the fucker did, I can’t stop myself from asking about him. I convince myself it’s okay because Drake would want me to take care of his sister, but if I’m being honest I want her to tell me for selfish reasons. I want to know everything about this girl. She’s beautiful and feisty. Seeing her on that porch ranting and raving showed her inner fire, but then the vulnerability she showed me with her tears made me want to wrap her in my arms and never let go.

  Holding her close while she cried was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. Every sob was wrenched from deep inside her. I could feel her hurt and it tore at me. I wanted to demand she tell me what happened and rip apart whoever or whatever caused that kind of pain.

  Sighing deeply, her hands fall to her lap and she wrings her fingers together.

  “It’s a lot of things, really.”

  She takes another deep breath and I can tell she’s collecting her thoughts, weighing what she wants to say before letting herself open up. I stay silent, giving her the time she needs to decide what she wants to share.

  “The thing that ended us was me coming home to find him fucking my best friend in our bed. I guess in a lot of ways I should be happy that he so epically fucked up. I’d still be with him otherwise.” She pauses again, shoring herself up before continuing.

  “Our relationship started out great. He was everything I thought I wanted—successful, handsome, and he treated me like I was the best thing to ever happen to him. I’m not sure when things changed. He started picking at me—little things at first, like he didn’t think my shirt flattered my figure or my skirt was too tight.”

  I can’t hold back my growl of disapproval. Her eyes shoot up to mine for the first time since she started telling me her story.

  “Anyway, little by little he chipped away at my self-confidence and I was obsessed with seeking his approval. I feel like a fool for letting things get so bad. It’s like every time he disapproved of something, I felt like I could never be good enough. Then he’d be so damned nice—compliment me and tell me how much better I looked wearing what he picked. It was a vicious cycle.”

  Her eyes fall to her lap again, glassy with tears. I want to tear this ex of hers limb from limb. I slowly reach for her, lifting her chin with a gentle touch. “Kitten, he’s a fucking moron. You’re sitting here with not a drop of make-up on, in a robe that’s five sizes too big and you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  Her breath hitches and I worry I said the wrong thing, but her cheeks flush pink as she bites her bottom lip. “You really mean that don’t you?”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely, Kitten,” I state with complete honesty, hoping the truth of my words will settle some of her unease.

  Without further acknowledging what I confessed, she tucks into her food again with that beautiful blush still covering her cheeks.

  Blake dunks the crust of her bread into the creamy soup and slurps the morsel into her mouth. A small drip of soup escapes down her chin and I reach out wiping it away with my thumb. Without a single thought, I suck my thumb into my mouth to clean it off. Her eyes widen in surprise, then linger on my mouth. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear she was looking at me with lust. Considering the little bit I know about what brought her to the cabin that can’t be the case, though.

  “Sorry,” I apologize, even though I don’t mean it. That was probably the best taste of soup I have ever had in my life and all because it came from her sweet lips.

  I am so fucked here.

  If I don’t get some distance, I am going to do something we will both regret. I can’t let that happen no matter how good it will be and it would be amazing.

  She’s obviously embarrassed, whether it’s from my actions or from the dribbling soup. I’m not sure, but I’m not surprised by the flush of her cheeks as she realizes that not only is she staring at my mouth, but her fingertips are tracing over the spot where my thumb raked against her lip and chin. Maybe that was a spark of desire after all.

  Interesting.

  3

  Blake

  Hot damn. I can’t even manage to be embarrassed at the fact that I’m stuffing my face like a fucking pig—enough so that I have soup running down my chin. All because the feeling of Hutch’s thumb touching me sets my blood on fire. As if that simple touch wasn’t enough, he had to go and lick the soup from his finger.

  Normally, I would have been disgusted, but right now all I want to do is press my lips to his and suck his tongue while I ride his cock. It’s taking every last bit of willpower to not follow through with my desires. I have never had such an instant reaction to a man before.

  In all honesty, even the douche canoe that I was set to marry never got my motor running like this man did and he barely even touched me. A small part of me wants to say fuck it and jump his bones, but another even smaller part knows that wouldn’t be fair to Hutch. Based on my last conversation with my brother, I know he just got out of a bad relationship and came back from a mission gone wrong.

  Also, the fact that Drake sent him here to the cabin tells me that he needed to get away from everything. Both Drake and I only ever use this place as a getaway. Our own persona
l hideout when shit hits the fan. Our older brothers were never interested in this little cabin, grandaddy moved here after gran passed and they were already teenagers by then. When grandaddy died, he left the cabin to Drake and me, fifty-fifty.

  I’m fairly certain Drake spends his leaves here even though he refuses to confirm it. I miss my brother, but I know he feels this need to protect me from what he is and staying distant is his way of doing that. Drake would never send someone else to our place without a very good reason. That thought is enough to keep me from acting on the urge to plunder the sexy piece of man in front of me.

  For now.

  I dunk another bite of crust into the soup and slurp it up carefully to avoid dripping. We finish our meal in awkward silence. When our bowls are empty and our sandwiches are gone, I scoop up the dishes and head to the sink.

  “You don’t have to clean up, Blake,” Hutch says as he makes a grab for the dishcloth.

  I pull it away and hold it over my head playfully. “I know I don’t have to. You cooked, so I’ll clean up. It’s only fair.” I tsk when he makes another grab for the cloth.

  Without realizing it we’ve started a game of keep away and now I’m leaned over backwards against the counter with Hutch’s big strong body pressed deliciously against mine. During all this, his rough paw of a hand has enclosed my wrist in his grasp keeping me from pulling my arm away. His other arm is wrapped around my waist holding me close. There is no way that I’m going to win this, I know it, but I’m not giving up either. My day has been shit and for the first time since I walked in that bedroom and had my entire world tilt off its axis, I’m feeling carefree; joyful even.

  If I’m being completely honest with myself, this is the best I’ve felt in years. Things with Shane started off so good. He was attentive and sweet, he made me feel beautiful and liked that I was sassy. We dated casually for several months. We had so much fun together and the sex was better than I’d ever had. It wasn’t an instant love, but it grew and when he asked me to move in once my lease was up, it just seemed like the natural progression for our relationship. And things were really, really good for a while.