Her Last Wild Ride

Johnny took his mouth away and pressed a hot kiss to my neck. He moved down and took a nipple into his mouth, rolling it and sucking. My back arched even more.

His movements were faster now, more powerful. I could hear the slap of skin on skin. My hands were frantic on his back, moving up and down, relishing the feel of his taut muscularity. Hands gripping his buttocks, pushing him even deeper.

And then it was breaking over me again, the incandescent bliss of another climax. I bit into Johnny’s shoulder to hold back a scream just as he said gutturally, “Shite. I can’t hold on.” And then he came in a bucking, jerking rush, hips thrusting powerfully against me as he touched me so deep inside it almost hurt.

I was barely aware of the long minutes we remained joined together as Johnny softened inside me. He was heavy, but I couldn’t seem to unfold my arms and legs from around him.

Eventually he huffed an exhausted-sounding chuckle against my shoulder and lifted his head. “Ash...if you don’t want to suffocate, let me go.”

His words impacted me deep inside where their double meaning mocked me. I needed no further encouragement and unwound my legs and arms. Johnny pulled free and I winced slightly, muscles still burning pleasurably.

He levered himself off the bed and walked with supremely confident male grace to the bathroom. I couldn’t move. I felt flattened, steamrollered. Undone, again.

One thing was uppermost in my head as soon as Johnny disappeared into the bathroom—I had to get out now, because what had just happened had touched me in places that had nothing to do with sex.

And I would move, I told myself...just as soon as I was able to muster up the energy.

* * *

Johnny looked at himself in the mirror of the bathroom. His face was still sex-flushed, eyes wide and almost feverish looking. Crap. What the hell had just happened out there? He felt altered. As if his cells had realigned after orgasm into some new configuration.

All he wanted to do was to go back outside and curl his body around Ash’s and feel those soft yet incredibly lithe curves tuck into his body. A voice mocked him, And then what? Wake up next to her in the morning? He answered the voice snarkily, Hell yeah, so I can fuck her again. And again.

Johnny scowled. He didn’t do postcoital cuddling. He didn’t do lazy morning wake-up sex. But all of a sudden he wanted to.

His hands gripped the sink edge. He had enough on his plate at the moment dealing with the oncoming reunion with his little sister. Familiar guilt lanced him again and he felt slightly sick. The last bitter argument with Mary blasted into his head.

He’d shouted at her. “You’re just a control freak. You can’t see beyond your own tiny mind that it might be possible for me to do something else.”

She’d been white with anger. “You have no idea how hard it’s been for me to take care of you and Caitie. I gave up what I wanted to do, and now you can’t just do this one thing for me.”

“Bollocks to that, Mary, I’m not going to be an architect just to keep you happy. It’s not what I want to do. It’s my life to fuck up if I want. And I’ll tell you what—if I’m such a burden, why don’t I just get out of your hair completely?”

And then he’d seen Caitlin’s tear-stricken face as she’d been standing in the doorway, witness to yet another brutal fight. Johnny could remember pushing past her to get out, his gut in such a dark ball of pain that he couldn’t stand it anymore.

He’d left that day and not gone back. Too ashamed.

Johnny’s hand was gripping the sink so tight that his knuckles shone white and there was faint perspiration on his brow. Suddenly the need to go back out there and curl around Ash disappeared. He needed something else. The only thing that soothed him.

Galvanizing himself, he went back out to the bedroom. “Ash—” His step and voice faltered. Ashling was fast asleep on the bed, but with one l

eg hanging off as if she’d been in the act of getting up.

Her body was naked and spread-eagle and there was something curiously vulnerable about that. Johnny bit off a silent curse as his body responded with predictable force. Christ, he felt like a teenage virgin all over again with his first lover. Rampant.

He padded over and put his hand out to touch her shoulder as if to wake her up. Somehow he knew that if he did wake her, she’d be as eager to go as he was for her to leave. Or was he? At the last second Johnny didn’t shake her shoulder. He pulled up the sheet to cover her body, and he left.

Chapter Nine

When I woke a few hours later I was disoriented. I wasn’t in my own bed, and the fragrant smell of sex was in the air. Immediately my body responded and I felt the twinge and pleasurable ache of muscles that had recently been used well.

I blinked and looked around. Johnny’s apartment. I tensed. Damn. I’d fallen asleep before I could leave. The bed was cold beside me, so Johnny hadn’t been there for a while.

I didn’t like the fact that something disturbingly like disappointment vied with relief. And then I cringed inwardly. Did he think that I’d fallen asleep on purpose? To foster some kind of after-sex intimacy?

I got up and used the bathroom quickly. I avoided looking at my reflection in the mirror but I splashed water on my face. When I came out I sighed at my ruined panties and pulled my jeans and T-shirt on. Just when I was about to pull on my boots, though, I heard a faint hammering noise from downstairs.

Was that where he was? Giving in to curiosity, I explored beyond the apartment door and down the stairs toward the main door. There was another door at the bottom of the stairs, ajar, and the sound of hammering came again.