His Hellcat (Sassy Girls Book 1) Page 4

  And boy am I ever okay with it.

  In fact, I'd love nothing more than to have her even closer, like on my cock or my face or one then the other.

  “Morning,” she breathes, her voice husky and barely there.

  “Good morning, Kitten.”

  “Um, thanks for letting me sleep in here.” She pauses, but I can tell by the way her body tenses there is more she wants to say. I put my training to use and stay silent, waiting. “And I want to apologize for last night.”

  As she talks she raises her head, resting her chin on my chest so she can look me in the eyes. She is so beautifully mussed from sleep, my cock throbs imagining all the things I could do with her in this bed. I really need to get myself under control before I lose my mind and pin her down right here, right now and fuck her until she can’t walk.

  “No need to apologize and you’re welcome. It was nothing. I think I should thank you though. I haven’t slept that well in years.”

  “Are you blushing Lt. Hutchinson?” She teases while tickling her fingers over my ribs.

  “Hell no, men don’t blush.”

  “Ah, well. I won’t tell, but I do think it’s sexy as hell.” She sasses back with a mischievous smile that makes her eyes light up. It’s the kind of smile a person gets right before they do something they know they shouldn’t.

  Without giving me time to respond or further think about what’s going on in that mind of hers, she rolls on top of me, her legs straddling my hips, and then she tickles me. I may be a big tough guy—retired from the army—but fuck me, I am and always have been ticklish.

  As soon as her fingers make contact with my sides I can’t control my reactions. Going on the defensive, I roll us until she’s pinned underneath me, my body wedged between her thighs. One of my hands pins both of hers above her head, the other returning the tickle assault like a pro. She’s laughing hysterically, bucking into me and squirming, trying to dislodge me. She’s a slip of a thing though, and has no hope of moving me.

  Somewhere in our game, things change. Tickling turns to caressing. Erratic squirming turns into purposeful grinding. And then the tip of her pink tongue slips out to swipe against her lips, spreading moisture and beckoning me to taste. I have one moment of thinking that it will just be one quick taste, but as soon as my lips crash against hers and that sweet little tongue of hers immediately pushes into my mouth to fight for the upper hand, I know that it could never be just one taste. I will crave her lips from now on.

  Our kiss isn’t a slow burn. There is no build up. No learning each other like most first kisses. This is a clashing of lips, teeth, and tongues. A war for who would dominate. Which one of us would give in first. What she has yet to figure out, I don’t play fair. With her hands still safely restrained in one of mine, I’m free to explore her body. Cupping her breast, I knead the soft flesh. Her hips buck up into mine as I switch from a gentle caress to a hard squeeze. Her breath hitches at the sensation.

  Oh yeah, baby. Definitely have the upper hand here.

  7

  Blake

  Someone pinch me because I have got to be dreaming right now. Wait, no don’t you dare fucking pinch me, because in about ten seconds I’m going to have Hutch’s cock buried in my aching pussy and it would be cruel to cock-block me like that. The way his big hard body is pressing into mine as he holds my hands steady above my head is driving me to madness. Any moment I’m going to wake up and remember how everything in my life has turned to shit.

  Then he pinches me. Well, my nipple. That’s when I realize I’m not dreaming. I do, in fact, have Hutch’s tongue down my throat, his hard cock rubbing lewdly against my aching pussy, and that hand. It’s rubbing, pinching, and teasing my nipple into a throbbing mass of nerves that’s sending a current of electricity straight to my core.

  Finally, he pulls his lips from mine. While he kisses a trail down my neck to my breast, I work hard at catching my breath while. I nearly come unglued when he sucks my nipple into his mouth, shirt and all. No one has ever caused the kind of sensations with skin on skin contact that Hutch is causing through the layer of my shirt. My nipples have never been sensitive to pleasure. I always thought they were defective.

  “You like that, Kitten?”

  I moan my appreciation and pull against his hold. I want to touch him, to feel all those hard muscles, but it’s clear that’s not on the agenda yet. He lowers his lips to the other breast and gives it the same attention. The wet spot over my nipple turns cold without the heat of his mouth and the sensitive tip gets even tighter than it was, taking it to the edge of painful. His free hand makes its way down to the waistband of my too small shorts; his fingertips lightly tickle just under the edge.

  “Are you wet for me?” He asks, as his fingers dip further under the material.

  “Yes.” I pant, his fingers inching closer and closer to where I need him. If I didn’t know better I would say he's trying to kill me, the tease is almost too much for me to handle.

  His fingers coast across my pussy, just a gentle rub over my mound, but it’s enough to drive me insane. “Oh, Kitten. You’re positively drenched. Is that all for me?”

  He dips two fingers into my slit and rubs the wetness through my folds without actually touching where I’m desperate for contact. Without warning, he pulls back giving my hands the freedom I wanted, but his body is no longer pressed against mine. Instead, he’s pacing the small space at the foot of the bed, his fingers shoved into his short locks. He radiates anger.

  I was wrong when I thought my wakeup call would come in the form of a pinch. No, my huge dose of reality feels like a bucket of ice water being dumped on me.

  How could I have been so stupid? I should have snuck out of his bed first thing. He made it so clear to me last night that he wasn’t interested. I could blame the fact that I spent the night pressed against his hard body as my excuse for why I practically molested him, but it’s not the truth.

  I wanted him.

  No. I want him.

  “I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I shouldn’t have…”

  My words are cut short when Hutch sweeps his arm across the top of the dresser, sending everything crashing against the wall and to the floor. Without hesitation I jump out of the bed and I’m securely behind my own door before I can piss him off any more than I already have.

  Tears are already welling in my eyes and my lungs burn with the need to release the sob that I’m holding back.

  What was I thinking? If the man who claimed he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me found me lacking, even after I changed everything to please him, then a man like Hutch would never, ever want me.

  With that thought the dam breaks and tears fall freely. Even though I felt drawn here, I never should have come. I wasn’t prepared for any of this. I came to lick my wounds and regroup, not fall into lust with my brother’s best friend overnight. How ridiculous am I? My decision to stop my pity party last night was obviously premature. I can give myself another day or ten. Hell, at this rate I'll just chug down that curdled milk and wait for a refill.

  Completely lost in my own misery, I don’t hear the door open or Hutch crossing the room to me. I’m completely oblivious until I find myself surrounded by his strong arms and my head cradled to his chest. The fact that I’m once again crying in his arms has another sob ripping through me. Stupid fucking tears.

  “I’m sorry, Kitten. Don’t cry.” His voice is pleading and laced with pain.

  I take a fortifying breath and pull away from him. I find myself instantly missing the comforting strength of his hold, but at the same time, I’m desperate for distance. I’m just not equipped to handle his closeness right now. If I were to go with my instincts and throw myself into his arms and lose myself, I don’t think I’ll be able to survive another rejection from him.

  Shane was a huge hit, but just one day without him and I already recognize how wrong we were for each other. How toxic our relationship actually was. I can easily move on from that
douche, but Hutch is a whole different beast.

  I wipe my tears away, meet his troubled gaze and lie. “It’s okay, Hutch. No worries.”

  “No, really it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have touched you.”

  I cut him off before he can slice into me with more rejection. “Look, it’s fine, really. If you don’t mind, could you drive me into town? I’ll tell the rental agency where they can pick up their piece of shit car, hop on the next plane home, and be out of your hair.”

  The shocked look on his face is almost humorous, but the hurt look in his eyes makes me pause. I’m too raw to ponder on it, though. I grab a pair of cut-offs from the dresser and send a silent prayer that they will fit over my ass. What I wouldn’t give to have had the foresight to pack a damned bag, I’ll have to better prepare for the next time I catch my best friend and my fiancé fucking in my bed.

  “You don’t have to leave, Blake.”

  I simply shrug. Apparently, it’s the wrong move, though. The next thing I know I’m being pulled back into his arms. When I try to pull away, his arms tighten around me and he tangles his hand in my hair, pulling lightly until my face is tilted up to his. My entire being is begging for his lips, desperate for him to set me free from this horrible self-doubt. I hate myself for craving his approval. History has dictated that it's the first step to losing my identity. Then again, since I haven't figured out who I am without Shane's influence yet, maybe Hutch can help me figure it out. Which is a completely dangerous thought to have about a man. Especially one that doesn't want me.

  Hutch inches closer to me, his lips a mere hairbreadth from mine. My heart is pounding in my chest and my nipples pebbling against my shirt. Lust thrums through my veins, spreading like a wildfire.

  “Stay.” A command, not a question.

  “What’s the point? Why stay when it’s obvious that you don’t want me?” Even to my own ears I sound defeated, pathetic. Buck the fuck up, Blake. “Just… just take me to town. Please.”

  “You think I don’t want you, Kitten?” He growls into my ear, fingers tightening in my hair as he scrapes his stubble across my neck and nips my tender flesh. “All I’ve been able to think about is getting inside that tight little pussy of yours.”

  To prove his point, he presses his length into my stomach and tightens the iron-like grip he has around my back.

  “Feel what you do to me?”

  I nod, unable to even process what's happening. He actually does want me? It’s such a contradiction to what happened just a few moments ago that my mind can’t make sense of it. Did I misunderstand the situation?

  “It’s just…” I don’t get a chance to finish my thought because Hutch crashes his lips to mine.

  All the fight drains from my body and I fall into his kiss. His lips are soft but firm as they move over mine. He gently sucks my bottom lip between his and my lips part on a moan allowing him entrance. Then his tongue is slicking over mine as he deepens the kiss, causing my toes to curl. Throwing caution to the wind, I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling myself flush against him.

  My nipples ache, still sensitive from his earlier attention, and I’m wetter than I’ve been in my entire life. Mindless with desire, I begin grinding against him. I can feel his cock—it’s hard between us as it rubs against my lower stomach. I wait for the insecurities to bombard me. For the constantly nagging voice in my head to say I’m too fat, too short, or just plain not good enough for him. But it is blissfully silent.

  Hutch does that for me. Even after his earlier rejection, I don’t feel lacking. His sheer size compliments me in a way I have never experienced before. He makes me feel small, delicate even. It is something I’ve never felt, despite my petite stature. He’s hard where I’m soft, making my curves feel feminine and sexy. The press of his body against mine is utter perfection.

  He pulls his lips from mine, releasing my hair, he cups my cheek. “Blake, I shouldn’t do this with you. I should respect you and your brother enough to walk away, but it’s too fucking late now.” His look is fierce, determined. “You’re mine.”

  Then his lips are back on mine. He cups my ass as he devours me, lifting me from my feet and carrying me back to his room. I wrap my legs tight around his waist, groaning when his cock lines up perfectly with my pussy. Using my toes, I push against the waistband of his boxer briefs, desperate to feel more of him. The material is caught between our bodies and I quickly give up, focusing my attention on the way he rubs against me with each step.

  I cry out when he tosses me to the bed, the abrupt loss of contact is nearly painful. Quickly enough, though, his hands are back, carelessly tearing my clothes from my body until I’m completely bared to him. I don’t have a moment to feel self-conscious about my nudity because his mouth is on my pussy before I can even consider it. Hutch licks at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted. I’ve never been a fan of oral—it’s always made me uncomfortable—but the way he’s eating at me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

  His tongue flicks back and forth over my clit, then slowly circles, teasing me until I’m a puddle of need desperate for release. I bury my hands in his hair and pull him closer needing more. As if he knows exactly what I crave, he slicks his fingers through my folds and dips inside me. He fills me with two thick digits, fucking me slowly while his tongue laps at my clit.

  “That’s it, baby. Fuck yourself on my fingers.” His words encourage me to take my pleasure from him. I lift my hips frantically, pushing towards his mouth and those glorious fingers, doing exactly as he said—fucking myself, using him for my pleasure.

  I’m so close. I can feel my orgasm coming, but it’s just out of reach, tormenting me. Hutch changes the angle of his fingers and every movement hits just the right spot causing my pussy to gush. The wet sounds are lewd, and I’d be embarrassed if my orgasm didn’t pick that exact moment to crash over me. I’m knocked breathless with it. My entire body seizes and my pussy grips his fingers. My clit is so sensitive every brush of his tongue is almost painful, but I ride wave after wave of pleasure.

  I’m still trying to catch my breath when his lips find mine, kissing me deeply. I can taste myself on him. It’s dirty and erotic and I want more.

  “So fucking beautiful, Kitten.” The tone of his voice and look on his face tell me those aren’t just empty words; he actually thinks I’m beautiful. My throat feels tight with emotion, but I brush it away and choose to focus on this moment.

  The blunt tip of his cock rocks against my pussy and I gasp as it slides over my clit, then he’s notched himself at my entrance. I feel so empty and desperate for him. I wrap my legs around his waist, trying to pull him into me, but he doesn’t budge.

  “Slow,” he says, brushing a kiss to my lips. “I won’t hurt you.”

  The look on his face is almost pained from denying us both the deep plunge we crave. As he slowly pushes inside me, I’m grateful for his determination. I gasp at the fullness, every inch stretching me further than I’ve ever been stretched before.

  “Oh God,” I can’t help crying out. I knew he was big, but holy shit. The stretch burns so good and I want more. I don’t realize I’ve been incoherently saying these things aloud until Hutch speaks, his voice a rough growl.

  “You’re so tight. I’m going to fuck this hot, little pussy so good.”

  I throw my head back against the mattress in ecstasy when he’s finally buried deep. My every nerve-ending is on pleasure overload and I nearly come undone from being stuffed full of him. His lips descend on mine as he slowly pulls out—one inch, two. Every inch makes me desperate.

  Wild for him, our kiss turns feral. My nails score down his shoulders as I dig my heels into his ass to try and control him. To keep him locked inside me. He won’t be controlled though.

  I rock my hips and squeeze the single fat inch of his cock he left inside me, but he’s not to be rushed. His lips continue to work mine until he’s controlling every swipe of my tongue, every brush of my lips, everything. He cont
rols everything and I’m going mad with need.

  “Please, please,” I beg. I’m not above begging at this point. “So empty. Please.”

  Instead of giving me what I want most, he lowers his lips to my neck, kissing and sucking his way to my breasts. He licks and nibbles at my nipples until they are painfully hard and just as desperate for his attention. My hips continue to move of their own accord, but I barely gain any friction because Hutch has me perfectly pinned.

  “I could suck on these nipples all day. So pretty, all red and swollen.” His tongue keeps working them over drawing mindless gasps and moans from my throat. “Mmm… Yes, I could just eat at these sensitive tips until you come.” He sucks one deep, the force of the suction draws a fiery line of pleasure straight to my clit. It’s entirely possible I could come like this.

  Without warning he slams his hips into mine, burying his cock into my pussy. I scream as an orgasm crashes over me, my vision blurs and my body seizes up.

  Holy fuck.

  Hutch pulls back then slams home again and again, riding me hard. Every thrust builds me to another peak. Until I’m not sure if I’m having multiple orgasms or one never-ending release.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Hutch punctuates each thrust. “God, Kitten. Your cunt is milking me so good. Not going to last.”

  Hell, I’m not going to last at this rate. He’s killing me with pleasure. Brain cells are exploding. I can’t get enough oxygen and my heart might stop, yet he’s worried about not being able to last? Meanwhile, I haven’t stopped coming since he started moving.

  Digging my heels into his ass, I slam my hips up to his, egging him on; showing him how gone I am for him. How much I want him. “Fuck me. Come for me,” I demand.

  He loses his rhythm as he chases his own orgasm. Thrusting deep, he explodes inside my pussy. I can feel every jerk of his cock as he fills me, his release hot on my thighs as he fills me to overflowing. I cling to him, unwilling to lose the closeness of the moment. Needing that connection more powerfully than I’ve ever needed anything in my life.