Keeping Score by Cathryn Fox
Reagan
Itake in the hardness in his eyes, the untethered hatred living there. “What did he whisper to you?”
He rubs my arms and shakes his head. “Nothing important.”
I take deep gulping breaths and try to hold it together. I hate conflict, absolutely hate it. Yet ever since the night Cochrane handed me to Rocco to cover his payment, I’ve been faced with a lot of it. Earlier I ran out the door, thinking Rocco was back, that something else was wrong with my car, only to find Cochrane and his four buddies pulling up. My heart nearly burst clear from my chest. He’d only just gotten here, and he immediately started questioning me on why I’d ran away to the cottage. I guess he conveniently forgot about all the vile things he said last night. A hard quake moves through me at the memories. I was too dumbfounded to answer, so he started in on where my car was, when Rocco showed up. I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Stupid tears fill my eyes, and a ridiculous choking sound catches in my throat.
“It’s okay,” Rocco says. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”
“I…I was worried about you.” I sniff, and my tears soak his T-shirt. I glance up at him, hating that I’m probably all swollen and puffy. “I didn’t tell him we were sleeping together. Not because I didn’t want him to know, but because it was four against one and I didn’t want to see you hurt.”
“I wasn’t worried about me. I was worried about you.” His voice is deep and rough, like he’s trying to calm the storm inside him—inside me.
“I only agreed to talk to him to get him to leave.”
“Reagan,” he cups my cheeks and wipes the tears from my face. “Fuck.” He pulls me against him, and I instantly find comfort in his strong heartbeat.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry. Cochrane’s the one who should be apologizing. He never should have shown up here and put you in a situation where you felt forced to agree to his terms.”
“He wants me back.”
His body goes so tight, it worries me. “Can’t blame him.”
“He always gets what he wants, Rocco. Somehow or some way, he always gets what he wants.”
I lift my head, take in the anger on his face. Blue eyes full of murder latch onto mine. My heart speeds up, a new kind of fear careening through my blood. “Don’t go after him.”
The tight muscles on his jaw ripple. “I’m not afraid of him.”
“You should be. We both should be.” He doesn’t speak, which frightens me all the more. “Please, Rocco. Don’t go after him. Don’t do anything to get yourself in trouble. I don’t want you to lose your scholarship. None of this is worth that.”
He mumbles under his breath, something that sounds like, “You’re worth it.” He drops a kiss onto my head, his strength wrapping around me, a security blanket I never want to leave. He continues to hold me until I stop shaking, and says, “I’d better get the groceries from the car.”
“Okay.”
I stare after him, my body cold at the loss of his heat. He walks slowly, like he’s trying to gather his thoughts and pull himself together. My heart continues to crash as he scoops up the bags, carries them inside and drops them on the counter. With his back to me, his shoulders tight, he stays quiet as he unloads them.
“I got everything on the list.” He turns to me and holds up a sketch pad. “I found this.” He gives a casual shrug, like it’s nothing. It’s not nothing to me. It tells me how thoughtful he is, that he was thinking of me while we were apart, that he’s encouraging my hobby, my passion. I can’t find the words to tell him how much I appreciate it, and decide they’re not needed.
“You probably brought one with you.” He frowns. “It was stupid.”
I step up to him, go up on my toes and put my arms around him. I press my lips to his, and he’s hesitant. “Maybe this…” He takes a sharp breath. “I don’t know…” He pauses as he tears his gaze from my face and glances around the posh cottage. “…is all stupid too.”
“Don’t.” I kiss him again. It’s possible he’s right. What we’re doing here is stupid and reckless and damaging. I cup his head and bring his lips back to mine. He groans into my mouth, and I taste the rage in his body on the tip of his tongue.
“Reagan…I don’t think.”
“I want to.” Eyes filled with uncertainty meet mine, and I try to make light of it and say, “You once told me you either fuck or fight, and since you still contain all the rage inside of you—to protect me—I suggest you take it out on me.”
“I’d never take my rage out on you. I’d never do anything to hurt you.” His palm on my face is so gentle, wraps around my heart and squeezes so hard, I’m not sure it’s something I’ll ever be able to come back from. I don’t know what tomorrow brings, but today, it’s just us. “You know that, don’t you?”
I nod. “I do, Rocco, and I can honestly tell you that I have never wanted anything or anyone more than I want you at this moment.”
His chest rises and falls rapidly. “You should have what you want.” I smile at him and he picks me up, setting me on the kitchen island. “Bedroom. Too. far.” I laugh as he talks all caveman-like but it turns to a moan when his mouth finds mine, a little rougher than he’s ever been before as he channels all his energy into fucking me.
“Take me, Rocco. Take me hard.”
“Fuck, Reagan,” he growls, and deepens the kiss, ravaging my mouth as he slides his hands under my T-shirt to cup my breasts. He tugs my bra cups down, freeing my aching breasts and he pinches my nipples.
“Just like that,” I tell him. My encouraging words send him spiraling, and the next thing I know, I’m flat out on the kitchen island, and his blue eyes are blazing with raw hunger as he roughly tugs my yoga pants to my ankles. There’s a new need, new fierceness about him, going at me like it could very well be our last time. I can’t think about that right now, though. Right now, all I can do is lose myself in this man.
He tosses my pants away and reaches over his back to tear his shirt clear from his body. I admire his scarred nakedness, and my body reacts to the rugged male before it. I reach for him. “Fuck me, Rocco. Fuck me hard.”
He grabs my legs and drags me to the end of the island. They dangle over and he spreads them, taking a good hard look at my sex, wide open and ready for him to do anything he wants to me. The rough pad of his thumb scrapes over my clit, and I put my hand on my mouth to stifle a scream.
“Hands by your sides,” he commands and it surprises me. He wants me to scream, wants me to give myself to this every bit as much as he is. He circles my sopping wet clit, and bends to take it between his teeth.
“God, yesssss,” I cry out and he grunts his approval.
One thick finger finds its way inside of me and I grip the edges of the island. “Legs over my shoulders,” he orders, and I lift my shaky legs, doing as he asked.
He finger-fucks me on the kitchen island and I stare at the ceiling as it spins around me. A second finger joins the first for a snug fit, and he whips at my clit with the sharp blade of his tongue. Heat races through me, grips my core, and pleasure deepens between my legs until I’m coming all over his face.
“Rocco,” I cry out. Intense pleasure engulfs me and I barely hold myself up by my elbows to watch what he’s doing to me. The sight of him between my legs, licking, finger-fucking me, is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
His head lifts and my juices glisten on his chin. My eyes meet those of a wild animal, ready to ravage, and my heart beats faster, ready to be his victim.
“You want to fuck?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He lightly strokes me. “You want me to ruin this gorgeous pussy?”
“I do.”
He angles his head. “You sure about that, Reagan? You sure you want me to ruin this pussy for any other guy?”
I gulp air, and hiss the word, “Yessss.”
He stands there for one second, then another, and I fear he’s going to walk right out the door. What he does instead sends heat charging through me. He pulls me up into a sitting position, drags me off the counter, and presses his lips to mine, keeping his protective arms around me to keep me upright. His kisses are hard, brutal, but beneath his roughness there is something that curls around my heart and rips my soul wide open. I’m falling for this guy. Hard.
“My pussy,” I moan. “It’s all yours, Rocco. I think it’s always been yours. That very first day you followed me home from campus, watched over me, I was yours.”
He turns me, my back to his chest, and slides one hand around to the front of my throat, and pulls my head back until it’s pressed against his chest. His breath is warm on my ear when he whispers, “You’re fucking mine, Reagan.”
“I’m yours, Rocco.”
He buries his face in my hair, and I reach around to touch him. He pushes his cock against me, and I wiggle, begging for him to fuck me. He grips my T-shirt and tugs it over my head, and with a fast movement, removes my bra. I stand there, my back to him, completely naked, completely open.
“These are mine,” he growls and takes my breasts into his hands, squishing them all to hell.
I draw a shaky breath as he brands me with the heat of his hands. How could there possibly be another after Rocco? “Yours.”
He takes my hands and places them on the island, and I stand there, every nerve in my body alive as my harsh breathing mingles with the sound of his zipper releasing. Hands that could hurt so easily, press against my back until my breasts are pressed against the island, my nipples so hard, I’m sure I’m going to score the countertop.
I whimper when he taps his cock against my ass cheek. “You want this?”
“I do. I want it. I’ve always wanted it and I’ll always want it.”
He teases me some more, lightly running the crown over my ass, leaving dampness behind. “Please, Rocco. Take me. Own me. Ruin me.”
Soft curses reach my ear, followed by a condom opening. Strong, yet warm hands grip my ass cheeks and he spreads me, opening my drenched sex up for him.
“Mine,” he growls and in one fast thrust, he’s deep inside me, pushing all the air from my lungs and leaving me gasping for breath. “This what you want, Sunshine.”
“It’s everything I want.”
He pulls almost all the way out, and drives in, hard blunt strokes that give equal amounts of pleasure and pain. I don’t tell him about the pain. I want to feel everything with this guy.
He curls one hand around my waist, the other on my back, holding me against the counter. “You are so tight and hot.”
His hips move, piston forward as he drives his thick cock in and out of me at a pace that zaps all my synapses. There is no way I can even think. Hell, I can’t even breathe.
“Yes, yes, yes,” is the only word in my vocabulary so I continue to repeat it. He curls into me, his warmth sizzling through my body and I claw at the island countertop as a powerful orgasm rips through me.
“Jesus,” he moans, as my muscles clench hard around him. “I’m there, babe.”
I gulp for breath. “Let me feel you.”
He hands hold my hips impossibly tighter, and I cry his name with each hard pulse in my body. His groans fill the room, and he collapses over me, peppering wet, hot, open-mouthed kisses to my back. They seep into my skin and curl around my heart.
He inches back, his cock sliding from my body. He pulls me up with him, and I turn to face him. He cups my cheek and his lips find mine.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks, worry lacing his voice.
“No.”
“Liar.”
I chuckle. “It’s what I wanted, and it’s what you needed.”
“How do you know what I need, Sunshine?”
“Because we’re more alike than either of us ever knew.”