Manhandled: A Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 2) (14 page)

M
y back arched
at the angle. He towered over me, his breath a brand on my neck. This was what I wanted. I hadn’t known it. I’d never known sex could be this exciting and heightened before.

Adrenaline from the stage I’d used and fucked through before.

This was different. The taste of this kind of intoxication couldn’t be duplicated with anyone but Quinn. That scared me as much as it thrilled me. Part of me didn’t want to know these kinds of feelings existed.

Part of me wished that I could stay ignorant and happy with the status quo of my life.

But the part of me that strained against his touch, that ached for the danger of the dark and his huge, hard body—that was the part of me that had never been more alive.

The part that I could never, ever put back in a box.

His teeth grazed along my pulse again.

“Mercy.”

Was that my voice? It was broken and husky.

“There isn’t any mercy to be had tonight, Faith.”

I shivered at the low tone of his voice. It wasn’t the clipped Quinn I knew. It was darker, almost angry. His grip was harsh, almost too much—just on the verge of fear inducing.

With his free hand, he coasted down to my jeans, digging between my legs until the seam of the denim rubbed over my swollen folds. He was relentless, the friction driving me higher and faster than I thought possible.

“I need you with me.” He ground his cock along my ass. “I’ve been like this for hours.” He sucked at my neck. “Fuck, I’ve been like this for days.”

I bucked against his touch. My husky groan only made him move faster. I was as immobilized as the night he’d pinned me to the bed, and didn’t know how to go over. He held me there, on the edge of the fastest orgasm of my life, and then he just stopped.

“Fuck,” I growled and rolled my hips. “I need…”

“What?” His voice was at my ear again. “I said I needed you to catch up, not go over.”

I kicked at him and he laughed.

Fucking laughed.

“I want your nail marks on my back.” He nosed down the collar of my shirt and nipped my collar bone. “I want them in my flanks when I fuck you.”

I whimpered. “Yes.”

Holy crap, yes. Everything about his touch made me want to rip into him. I wanted to leave marks too.

How did he know?

“But right now.” He twisted my arms up until they were folded against my back. “Now, I need you to just take me. Round two you can do what you want to me.”

Then he pressed me down onto the piano cover, my cheek flush with the top, my hips arched up and me on my toes. I wasn’t tall enough for this. He seemed to realize that, but instead of correcting the situation, he boosted me up and released the snap of my jeans.

“Quinn.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“God, no.”

“Good, then hold onto me with your legs.” He dragged his teeth down the dip of my lower spine and peeled away my jeans.

“What are—Oh, God.”

He held both arms with one hand, bracketing my wrists, with his other hand he drew his thumb down the seam of my ass to my slit. “Fuck. So fucking wet.”

Exposed and splayed onto my belly, I couldn’t move if I wanted to. But then his mouth was there and the idea of moving melted into the shadows.

His tongue was relentless as he filled me. He sucked and slid along every fold. The sounds. It was like I was another person. That couldn’t be me, writhing under his tongue. He slid his thumb inside me and pulsed in time with his tongue.

There was no beginning, no end, no rhyme and no reason. There was only him and his mouth and my inability to deny him. He let go of my arms and I flailed to pull away, to crawl over the piano to get away from the insanity drowning me.

He dragged me back and rolled me over. His eyes were shiny black in the low light as he splayed me open and licked me until I sobbed out his name.

His hand slid up my chest to my throat and over my mouth. He didn’t stop, didn’t relent. He sucked and stroked my clit until there was no light left, no sweet little sparkles of a shiny orgasm.

No, this was a maelstrom of pain, pleasure, and finally a boneless release.

He dragged me off the piano and the cover slid with me onto the floor. But not me. No, I was safe in his arms.

No.

No, safe wasn’t the word. He rounded to the front of my harpsichord to the bench and sat down with me. I ripped at his belt, at his zipper, at the cotton of his shorts until there was skin.

Hard, hot, skin. The flared head of his shaft was so tight that he hissed when I swirled my fingers around it. “Faith.”

I shook off my jeans that were dangling from my ankle. My other shoe clattered to the floor. I wasn’t really sure when I lost the first one. It didn’t matter. My only goal was to get on top of him, to get him inside me.

“Wallet,” he growled.

I moved so he could dig into his pocket. His wallet flipped onto the top of my harpsichord and then there was the crinkle of plastic and the snap of rubber.

Thank God.

“Inside, inside, inside” I chanted. I fisted my hand around his base and he hissed. “Now.”

He gripped my hips and pulled me down on top of him. I arched, suddenly not so certain I could survive this. I tried to back off of him. Hard, huge, full.

So full.

He slipped inside of me, his eyes fierce. “Okay?”

“Okay,” I gasped. Every nerve was alive and firing as I tilted forward and took all of him. “Oh, so okay.”

He gripped the cover of the keys and rocked me. The impact of the bumpers getting shifted resonated inside me like an extra vibration. “Fuck.” His lips crashed into mine, scraping over my lower lip as he seated himself again and again. “So fucking tight and perfect,” he said against my mouth.

I tucked my face into his shoulder, curled my arms around his neck, and held on as he lifted his hips up and drove into me again and again. I should be able to control all the angles and the depth, but I was lost to the overwhelming force of him.

I couldn’t deny him.

I couldn’t do anything but hold on and roll my hips in time with his deep strokes.

He hollowed me out, and owned every part of me. I leaned back enough to press my forehead to his.

I dug my fingers into his shoulders, then down into the collar of his shirt to get to skin.

He groaned into my mouth, his fingers racing up my back to pull me down on him. My name was a broken curse.

His cock pulsed inside me as I held onto him and clenched around him instinctively. I wanted all of him tattooed against the inside of me where no one could ever take this feeling away.

I trembled and held on as he slowed and finally stilled, but didn’t leave me. He was still inside me even as the world had surely shattered around us.

His arms fell away first. I immediately missed the bite of his grip on my hips. Like he couldn’t handle the idea I’d get away.

“Trying to compartmentalize me, Warden?”

“Dammit, Faith.”

My body tingled at the warning and frustration in his voice. “Is it the warden thing that has you pissed of, or the fact that you just fucked the stuffing out of me?”

He stood, but instead of allowing him to unseat me, I clamped my knees on his hips and gripped his shoulders. His eyes flashed in the limited light. “This isn’t a fucking game.”

I wrapped my legs around him and had to bite back a moan as he lost his footing and slammed me into the harpsichord. He was still inside me, and still semi-hard, which was kind of amazing actually. Did they give them extra doses of testosterone in Ranger school?

They certainly hadn’t skimped on what he was packing. Front or back.

His jaw was so tight that I could see the vein throbbing in his temple, even in the dark. I didn’t want this to be weird.

It was going to be weird regardless. No one could have that kind of sex and not want to regroup, myself included. But I also knew that if I didn’t handle this right it would turn back the clock to the first day we met.

The reserved Quinn without humor. I liked the little bits of sarcasm that started bleeding through.

I didn’t want to lose that.

I tipped my hips so he had no choice but to pay attention to me. And all of him was paying attention—and growing.

“You promised me a round two.”

He closed his eyes as our bodies started moving together. We had a rhythm of our own, a beat that would never come from an instrument, and I didn’t want to let that go. I didn’t want him to push it into a box.

I slid my fingers up the nape of his neck as he finally held onto my hips again. “This isn’t round two.”

His fingers dug into my ass.

“You only get one ride on my piano, buddy.”

The puff of air along my neck eased the nerves building inside me. “Was that a laugh.”

“No.”

“Yes, it was.”

“I don’t laugh.”

“Liar.”

He pinned me to the elongated cover. My harpsichord was a two level keyboard so my ass actually fit right on the cover. However, it wasn’t meant for the kind of hip action this man could provide.

Damn those thrusting hips.

“This can’t be what we’re about, Faith. No matter how much I want to be inside you.” He groaned and ground us ever closer. “How good this feels—”

“If you say it’s just sex, I’ll boot you across the room right now.” Even if even the idea of him withdrawing made my heart sink.

“You’re more than just a fuck. Even if I was that kind of guy, I couldn’t be with you.”

The stark truth in his voice and eyes kicked my heart rate up until I could barely hear around it.

“I’m also here to protect you.”

“Nothing’s happened,” I growled. Frustration with him and with this entire situation, as well as the fear that was always just a step away, made my voice louder than I intended.

“I can’t have this conversation with you clamped around my cock. I can’t think when you’re this close to me, let alone when I’m balls deep inside you.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.” I didn’t like that my voice was so hesitant, but I was riding on way too many different emotions right now.

“One of us has to be clear headed about this.” His hands came up to cup my face. “You’re Noah’s.”

Startled, I blinked. “What? No, I’m not.”

He shook his head, his jaw flexing. “No.” He growled. “Christ, I can’t.” His eyes were hooded as he kept instinctively moving inside me.

I dragged in a ragged breath. “You can’t be talking about someone else when you’re inside me, Quinn.”

“Not like that or I’d never have touched you.” He touched his forehead to mine as he glided in and out of me. The unhurried pace fracturing my resolve to talk this out.

He coasted down my shoulder to my breast and cupped it, plucking at the nipple that was busting through my bra and shirt. His hands weren’t gentle. I liked that he couldn’t seem to stop touching me. I liked that he wasn’t soft and sweet with me.

His focus shifted to where we were joined. “Fuck.” When his gaze lifted to me, it was bleak. “Nothing can happen to you.”

“It won’t.” I met his firm lips and softened for him. Waited for him to unclench and kiss me. I was pretty sure I’d been waiting him out for what felt like forever. I hooked my arm around his shoulder and took each stroke, felt the tremor of the dampers undulating along the strings of my harpsichord under me, and my own skin that felt too tight.

He tore his mouth away and buried it into my shoulder as his hips flexed and the friction pushed me out of my head. I gasped as the release blindsided me. I’d been so focused on him and trying to figure him, that my body’s reaction dropped like a curtain.

Nothing but Quinn filling me up.

His breath fusing with my skin, his fingers branding me again.

“It won’t,” I said again as I held on.

F
uck
.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I withdrew. I had to. A pale shaft of light highlighted the red marks on her hips and her swollen, battered slit.

I’d done that. I couldn’t even lie to myself about trying to be gentle. I’d fucking lost it.

Wet from me, from us. From both of us coming our damn brains out. The place I wanted to be back inside right now.

Fuck.

“Stop it.”

My gaze dropped to the floor. To the twisted puddle of the piano cover and her rumpled jeans—her shoes scattered.

My mind equally scattered.

She hopped off her piano—harpsichord, whatever—and wobbled.

I steadied her, and got an armful of nail gouges for my trouble. I drew in a sharp breath through my nose.

“Stop it. Do not regret this, Quinn Alexander.”

How could I?

I should. God knows I should be calling my boss and reassigning someone to her immediately. But there was no way I’d walk away. No fucking way.

At this point it wasn’t even because Noah asked me to take care of her. I
couldn’t
walk away from her. Not just because my dick was as compromised as my morals, but because the moment I’d slipped inside of her she’d become mine. No question, no way to avoid it.

I was so beyond fucked.

A door banged open and laughter echoed down the hall.

“Get dressed.” I turned away from her and took care of the condom. I grabbed a rag from one of the trunks and rolled the condom inside, tucking it away into my jeans pocket before I zipped up.

“Crap,” she muttered and snapped out her jeans. “Where the hell did my underwear go?”

I dug out my phone and used my torch app. “Here.” I picked them up, but instead of handing them over, I jammed them into my blazer pocket.

Her eyebrows snapped together. “Those are mine.”

“They were on the dirty floor. You really gonna put them on?”

“No, of course not.” She wiggled into her jeans and zipped them up with a wince.

Was she reminded of the seam that I’d used to get her off the first time, or the fact that she was still soaking wet from my touch?

I wanted to dig my hands into her jeans and see.

Wow. I was so far gone, I was actually heading into Neanderthal territory.

She twisted her fingers under her shirt and did this shimmy thing and her breasts settled back into the cups of her bra. I didn’t even remember pulling at the bra.

I didn’t remember much of anything. Just the feel of her under my hands, on my cock, the searing heat of her as I slammed inside of her again and again.

Those were the things that were clear.

Not things like the piano cover hitting the floor, or that her instrument hadn’t been meant for such an…energetic session.

More importantly, I hadn’t watched the doors.

I’d been so insane for her that I came into a dark room without checking it out just so I could finally breathe around the wanting of her.

Yeah, none of this was in the good category. And still I couldn’t regret it. Not with her. I grabbed her hand and dragged her behind me as I checked my gun to make sure it was secure. All I needed to do was drop it like some fresh recruit walking into basic training.

“Warden, hold up.”

She hopped while she pulled on her other shoe then collided into my back. She jerked back when her fingers brushed my holster. I held on tight and moved down to the west wing where the dressing rooms were.

I backed her into the wall, caging her in as a group of people walked down a parallel hallway, Indie and Owen chatting about some of the people that had shown up backstage. Of course it had to be Indie.

I turned the doorknob to get out of the line of fire, but it was locked. Of course it was. I couldn’t duck out, I just had to hope they wouldn’t notice us.

Her breath was hot on my chest and she smelled of me, with that underlying trace of peaches. Always the goddamn peaches.

Her fingers fisted into the hem of my shirt as the voices faded.

I was damned in every way, but there was one thing I couldn’t lie about. I brushed my lips against her temple. “I’m not sorry.” I took her hand and led her out of the back, and back into the light of the party.

I glanced down at her. Her lipstick was gone, her lips a raw pink from my kisses. More like clashes of intent between us—but kisses nonetheless. My stubble had created hatch marks on her neck and the collar of her shirt was stretched—again, from me.

As we entered the room I looked around for Patrick. He was at the back door, arms crossed, shoulders busting at the seams of his jacket. I gave him the signal for leaving. He nodded so I steered Faith to the side door where I’d stashed the car for an easy escape.

She was quiet for once, and I took full advantage. I loaded her into the car, and rounded to the driver side, turning toward the city where our hotel was. Mansfield was in the middle of nowhere, and traffic was nonexistent at this point of the night.

I turned into the parking garage under the hotel, and pulled into one of the last of the available spots.

She still hadn’t said a word. As much as I’d enjoyed the silence, I knew it probably wasn’t a good sign.

“Ready?”

“Hmm?” She looked up from her knotted fingers. “Yes, of course.”

I assessed the garage and hustled her to the elevators. Most of the parking spots were filled thanks to the hour of the night. People were back from whatever touristy thing they’d done, or possibly even the Hammered show she’d played.

It was quiet, and her heels clicked loudly on the cement. She walked fast, matching my longer pace with ease. When we got into the elevator, she moved into my space. Not leaning, but definitely touching me.

Again, I was afraid I was missing some subtle clue, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out what her angle was. When the doors opened, she waited beside me, following me out of the elevator when I moved for the door.

I unearthed the keycard from my wallet as we got nearer to the door. A door opened across from us, and Zach peeked out. “Did you see Reed?”

I frowned. “I didn’t notice him at the party.”

“Pain in my ass,” he muttered and slammed the door.

I looked down at Faith. “Is that…”

“Usual for them.”

“Hmm. Should I worry?”

She shook her head. “Bats disappears a lot lately. We’re not his keeper, as long as he shows up for soundcheck and the concert, we’ve been giving him some space.”

I held the door open for her and followed her into our suite. She lay her hand on my torso, her fingertips absently drifting down the line of my abs. “I need a shower.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

She reached her hand into my blazer pocket. “I’ll take these back now.”

I covered her hand, staring her down.

“Is there a fetish, I should know about?” Her lips tipped up at one corner. “You’re not going to raid my drawers, right?”

“I’m only interested in the ones that smell like you.”

She pressed her lips together, her gaze dropping to my mouth. “Not sure what to say about that one.”

“It’s worrisome. You always have something to say.”

Her eyes were heavy. “Someone may have tired me out. Not to mention that I had a very kickass show tonight.”

“Get some rest. You get to do it all over again tomorrow.”

She smiled brilliantly this time. “Yes, I do.”

“Goodnight, Faith.”

“Night, Warden.”

I should be appreciative that she wasn’t pressing for something else. Round two—well, I guess technically round three if it came to that—but she walked to her room and closed the door.

Out of sorts, and restless as hell, I checked my messages.

Aidan’s resident hacker guru, Lucy, was no closer to finding anything. In fact, her emails were worded rather strongly in the negative column. A voicemail flag was showing on my phone.

Noah.

Did the universe know or something? Fate watching with a maniacal laugh?

“You better be taking care of that bottle of sunshine. She’s probably giving you hell. The girl does not like rules. She may rail against the idea of structure, but she’s not stupid. Keep her in the loop and she won’t give you any trouble. I’ll check in next week.”

I threw my phone on the desk and collapsed back in the chair. “Fuck.”

No amount of Tai Chi was going to get me out of this one. I checked the room over and plugged my phone in to charge. Her room was silent—not even any music going.

I strode into my bathroom and cranked the shower to boiling.

I needed to get her scent of me so I could sleep. The bar of soap wasn’t too feminine. I flipped over the box. Cucumber. Why the hell was that a scent? Whatever it was, it wasn’t peaches. I soaped up my shaft and the hair above. The places that were alive with her.

I tipped my head back, let the steam roll through my lungs, and clear my head. I dried off and tugged on a pair of boxer briefs. I couldn’t handle clothes tonight—my skin was still going haywire from her. Nearly a year since I touched a woman, no wonder I’d nearly dislocated her shoulders in reaction. I dropped onto my belly, my dick already twitching at the memory.

Endlessly beautiful and so out of my damn league.

I shoved my hands under a pillow and slowly unknotted each muscle in my arms, shoulders, back. I was trained to survive on little sleep, but I was also conditioned to sleep when I could.

And right now, I had to shut it off or I’d be a fucking basketcase tomorrow. I stared at the small clock beside my bed. Hell, it was already tomorrow.

Two in the damn morning.

I don’t know when I drifted off, but my body came alive and alert at the same time.

“Warden?”

I rolled onto my back. A filmy gray wash of pre-dawn light filled the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t want to come in and risk another pinning.”

I dropped my arm over my face. “What are you doing, Faith?”

The sheet rustled and my bed dipped.

“I’m here for round two.”

“Jesus.”

“The second one on the harpsichord didn’t count since you never actually pulled out me.”

I groaned as her fingers slid up into the hem of my underwear. They were a tight fit to keep the line of my suits, but it didn’t seem to matter to her. Her head disappeared under the sheet and her hot breath fanned my cock.

Her nails scored lightly over the tops of my thighs as she moved her her lips along my shaft.

I pushed away my sheet. Her hair was tousled around her scrubbed clean face. She wasn’t wearing seduction wear. Just a white tank and tiny yellow and blue striped panties which were currently hugging her ass that was arched out of the blankets.

She was going to kill me.

I pushed her hair out of her face as she moved up my hip. She paused and redirected her efforts to my ribs. She’d been right there, her breath over my cock, and now she was moving away. I should have stopped her before, but now I could add frustration and morning wood denial to the day.

Her lips brushed over the skin of my tattoo. She followed each letter with the tip of her nail. “What does it mean?”

I beat down the urge to groan as she tangled her legs with mine and lay against my side. “Ranger thing.”

“Latin, I’m guessing?” She swiped her thumb along my ribs.

“Loosely translated, ‘of their own accord’.” Because we were always first in for the most dangerous missions. I’d been a paratrooper for a lot of years. So many missions included me getting dropped in the middle of chaos.

Of course the 75
^th
caused more chaos than we were ever dropped into. I’d gotten the tattoo with a bunch of men on a night out. Most of the guy got large tats on their arms and down their backs. I always knew I’d need to go out and find another career. Constant killing and danger would either kill me, or kill my spirit.

But finally, it had been Lissa that made the decision for me. And the rebar in my shoulder. And the acrid smoke and screams that scarred more than just my shoulder.

She stacked her hands on my chest. “Where’d you go?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Does it have to do with Lissa?”

“Not really.” I shrugged. “Some.” I tucked her hair around her ear. “She doesn’t belong here.”

She slid one hand up higher to where my heart thudded harder with each touch. “Is she in here?”

I dragged her up higher until her knees straddled my chest. “Not like you think. I was never in love with Lissa.”

She propped her hand on either side of my head. “But you loved her.”

I cupped her face. “Faith, I didn’t love her like that. She was Noah’s.”

She frowned. “Noah’s what?”

“Noah’s who.” Resigned, I rolled up to a seated position and circled my arms around her waist. “His wife.”

She tried to climb out of my arms, but I held her tight. “His what?”

“We were Rangers together.”

She nodded. “I know. I’ve seen pictures of you with Noah in the middle of the desert. I don’t know how you guys ever managed to parachute with so much on.”

“Training.”

“You say it like it wasn’t awful.”

“It was awful. Dangerous, and grueling work. It mattered though. And when we had down time, we didn’t really know how to be with anyone else other than our troop.”

She trailed her nails over my chest, and through the hair there. She frowned at the little scars that marred my pecs. Little silvery burn scars that never quite faded.

Nothing like my back.

I didn’t hide them, but I didn’t discuss them either. Why I felt the need to do it with her, I wasn’t sure. “Burns,” I said softly. “There was a fire on the base.” I laughed harshly. “So many jumps to my name, so many times that I’d been in the middle of a firefight—not a scratch.”

Her nails gripped and climbed to my shoulders.

“Noah was out on a jump. He was part of a specialized team.” I didn’t need to scare her with the details, nor could I tell her much of them. Especially Noah. Even I didn’t know what happened on half of his missions. “There are a lot of individualized teams within the unit. Lissa hated when he was gone without me there to have his back. So I stayed in their guest room when she got really bad. I knew how to distract her.”