Clutch (Custom Culture) (14 page)

Chapter 20

Taylor

The ride home seemed slightly surreal. I’d been dreaming of having Clutch all to myself for so long, I found it hard to believe that I was sitting with him, alone in his truck. And even though both his hands had been on the wheel most of the drive home, I could still feel the sensation of his mouth and hands on my skin. We were both silent as we listened to music and got lost in the fact that something had happened between us and that there was no turning back anymore. The usual tension that radiated from him when I was near had changed to hot waves of passion. Now that we’d undone the cork on all of it, it felt as if there would be no way to slow it.

Clutch had driven home at top speed, and he flew into his driveway. Barrett’s bike was in front of the garage but the house was dark. I had to suppress a laugh as Clutch struggled again to get the key into his front door lock.

I trailed my fingers down his rock hard back. “Hey, Viking, it’s a good thing you have better aim with other things.”

He peered at me over his shoulder and shoved the door open. “That’s because keys are too small and
other things
aren’t.” He reached back, grabbed my hand, and pulled me along down the hallway to his room. Once inside the bedroom, he kicked the door shut behind us.

I pushed the sweatshirt off my shoulders, and it puddled on the ground. I reached for the top of his jeans, but he took hold of my hand. Before I knew it, he had both of my wrists caught up in his large fingers. He nearly lifted me off my feet as he dragged me over to the wall and pressed me up against it. He held my wrists above my head and stared down at me hungrily. It sent a rush of heat through me, but my whole body shivered deliciously from the way he looked at me. “I’ve got to slow you down, my wild, little pickpocket.”

His free hand reached up for the ribbon on my top, and with one pull, he had it loosened. His massive chest rose and fell sharply with each breath as his fingers parted the corset top to expose my naked breasts. His eyes didn’t leave my breasts as he reached behind the small of my back and unfastened my skirt. It slipped to the floor and he pushed my panties down next. The cool air in the room circulated around my naked legs. I struggled to free my wrists, but he held them tightly. He leaned down and trailed his tongue around my ear and neck and his free hand smoothed down my abdomen to the moist heat between my legs.

The vulnerability of being trapped in his hand only increased my need for him, and instinctively, I moved my hips against the movement of his hand. I cried out as his movements increased in pressure and speed. He covered my mouth with his, and I could barely catch my breath as his fingers moved inside me. The luxurious strokes of his rough finger tips pushed me to the edge, and the heat, the movement, the pressure on my skin exploded into waves of ecstasy. He held tightly to my wrists to keep me from sinking to the ground in a heap. Then he pulled me into his arms.

My hands finally free, I took hold of the hem of his shirt and slid it up above the hard ridges of his chest muscles. My tongue traced along every line of his taut stomach and it danced back and forth over the dark line of hair that bisected his abdomen. He whipped the shirt off over his head and dropped it to the floor. I’d seen him shirtless before, and it always took my breath away.

Before I could reach for the fly of his jeans, he had me in his arms. He carried to me to the bed and laid me down. His heavy gaze drifted over my naked body leaving wicked trails of heat on my skin.

“Christ, Taylor, you are unreal.” He unbuttoned his pants and pushed them to the floor. I held my breath as he reached down and pushed apart my legs. He knelt between them and then winced in pain. “Damn, I forgot about my knee.” He smiled and rolled onto his back bringing me along with him. I placed my hands on his chest and sat up, my thighs straddling him. It had only been a few minutes, but the surge of moist heat between my legs assured me that I wanted him again . . . badly.

His arm reached back, and he fished blindly in his dresser drawer for a condom. He pulled out a deck of cards. I laughed.

“Is that for when you invite a girl over for romantic night of Gin Rummy?”

“Strip poker.” He dropped the cards on the floor and kept searching. He pulled out a pair of black sunglasses with one of the lenses missing.

I laughed again. “And you are keeping those because—?”

“They’re from my past life as a one-eyed pirate. Ah ha,” he said victoriously and held up a condom.

I plucked it from his hand and instantly the light conversation stopped, and his lids got heavy as he gazed up at me. His massive chest moved up and down with each quick breath as I wrapped my fingers around him. He was solid and smooth and incredible as I rolled the condom down the hard, hot length of him.

His thick, calloused fingers reached down and grabbed my arms, pulling me back up toward him. My face lowered over his and my mouth came down roughly on his. A deep groan rolled up from his throat as my tongue swept across his. His fingers pressed into the flesh of my hips as the kiss deepened. The urge to have him inside of me was overwhelming. I lifted my mouth from his and watched his face as I slid over him. His pelvis moved to meet me and his grasp on me tightened. I reached up and wrapped my fingers around the rod iron bed board. His hands moved to my bottom, and he held me firmly as we rocked hard against each other building in speed and intensity.

I closed my eyes feeling every inch of him inside of me. My thighs tightened as I rocked back and forth wanting him to move even deeper. Every thrust, every movement touched my core. His grip tightened again and I moved against him. My head spun from the intensity of it, and I lost my grip on the headboard and collapsed to his chest. My mind was swept into the warm darkness, and the only physical feeling remaining was that of Clutch moving inside of me. I clamped down tightly on him, wanting him to stay there forever as I went over the edge.

His fingers bit almost painfully into the flesh of my hips as he pulled me against him. I pressed my face against his shoulder and muffled a scream as deep spasms of sheer ecstasy pulsed through me. His movements quickened, and I ached with pleasure. Then his grasp tightened, and his back arched off the mattress. A deep moan rolled from his lips and he relaxed. His arms went around me as I pressed my face against his chest.

I sighed contentedly wondering if this was all really happening. “I have to say, my imagination was pretty spot on. That was just how I thought it would be.”

His fingers skimmed over my back sending a shiver through me. “You’ve been imagining it?”

I lifted my face and stared down at him. “Haven’t you?”

He reached down and pulled the cover up over us. “Don’t know if I should answer that on grounds that it might incriminate me.”

I lowered my head to his chest again, and his arm tightened around me. “You do realize that this was all meant to be.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Yep, I’ve known it all along.”

Strange waves of light drifted in through his bedroom window, and for a moment, I thought I was still high from the drugging effect his touch had had on me. But then a loud explosion of glass breaking startled both of us. Clutch released me and I rolled off of him.

Barrett’s feet pounded down the hallway, and he pushed open the bedroom door. He was pulling on his jeans and his phone was pressed to his ear as he glanced into the room. He did a double take when he saw me. “Aimee’s house is on fire,” he blurted, and then disappeared down the hallway.

Clutch flew out of bed and pulled on his clothes. I got dressed and ran out behind him. Black smoke filled the front yard as flames shot straight up through the roof of the neighbor’s house. Clutch and Barrett were leaning over someone who was sitting on the grass.

I reached them just as Barrett gave the dazed looking guy a rough shake. “Where’s Aimee?” he yelled. Billows of smoke seeped from every corner of the house. The whole place was ablaze, and the heat and acrid smell swirled around us like an inferno. Other sleepy, confused neighbors began stumbling from their homes, gasping in shock and horror.

The guy glanced back at the house. “I think she’s still in the bedroom.”

Barrett released his hold on the guy and raced to the back gate. Clutch went to follow but the guy grabbed his leg. “It’s too late. The whole place is in flames. You can’t save her.”

Clutch shook off the guy’s hold on his leg. Through the haze of smoke I could see Clutch scowl down at the guy and then his arm drew back and he punched him in the face. The neighbor landed flat on his back and yelled in pain.

“You’ve had that coming for a long time, you asshole,” Clutch sneered and then raced to the backyard.

I ran behind him and reached them just as Barrett heaved a large planter through the glass pane. Smoke poured out into the cool night air. “Aimee!” he yelled into the opening. Without hesitation, he dove through the window that was bordered with jagged glass.

Clutch climbed in behind him, and the true terror of it all suddenly struck me. I’d never been so close to a burning house, and it was beyond frightening. It seemed the fire would devour everything in its path. The smoke made visibility and breathing impossible. I pulled my sweatshirt up over my nose and mouth, but my eyes burned with stinging pain. In the distance, I heard the sirens, but it all seemed too little, too late. I cut my fingers as I grasped the edge of the shattered window. I couldn’t see anything inside, but I heard some movement and coughing.

“Over hear, Clutch, Barrett. The window is over here.” I sucked in a breath and nearly choked on it. Tears flooded my eyes both from smoke and the sheer horror of thinking something had happened to them. “Over here,” I cried. The sirens grew louder and then stopped. The red flashing lights out front gave the black plumes of smoke an eerie quality, and a cold chill grabbed hold of my heart. I took a deep breath and pressed my face farther into the room. The smoke was like a thick, wool cloak, completely opaque and suffocating. The chemicals from the wood, paint and other materials in the burning house smelled toxic and a wave of nausea seized me. “Clutch, damn it, where are you?” There was no echo back. The tone of my voice was absorbed by the poisonous, viscous haze. “Clutch!” I screamed with the small bit of oxygen I had left in my lungs.

Then a giant blond head loomed in the window, and a cry of joy spilled from my lips. “Grab her arms, Taylor.” The girl was small and pale and flopped over the rough edge of the window like a rag doll. I lifted her up to avoid the shards of glass and pulled her out. I fell back on the grass and held her head in my lap. Tears of relief flowed from my eyes as both Clutch and Barrett jumped out of the window. Barrett collapsed to his knees, coughing and shuddering in pain.

Clutch’s face and shirt were covered with soot. He braced his hands on his thighs as he leaned down to catch his breath.

I rubbed my fingers over the girl’s face and smeared away some of the ashes. She didn’t respond to my touch at first but then her shoulders twitched and she coughed. Smoke still billowed from the window as a spray of water arced up high in the air and covered the flames on the roof. I looked up at Clutch. “You need to get her out to fresher air.”

He swept the girl up in his arms and carried her toward the front yard. She coughed several more times, which was comforting to hear. Two firemen met Clutch at the back gate. “My brother’s hurt too,” he told them as he handed the girl off to a fireman.

I stumbled over to Barrett. His naked chest was covered with blood from the glass.

Barrett’s face was pale and sweaty. He leaned forward and my hand flew to my mouth to stifle a gasp. His naked back was blistered with burns. I dropped to my knees and pressed my hand against his face. “Hold on, Sweetie, help is here.” I removed my sweatshirt and wiped the rivulets of blood that streamed down his chest. His whole body trembled as he leaned against me for support.

Clutch raced through the back gate with two paramedics. “Let’s see if we can move him away from the house,” one of the paramedics suggested.

Clutch took hold of Barrett’s hand and pulled his arm over his shoulder. Barrett’s bare feet lifted off the ground as Clutch stood to full height and carried him across the yard and away from the choking clouds of smoke.

Barrett’s face was so twisted in pain, I felt his agony in my chest and stomach. He held tightly to my hand as they administered first aid to his cuts and took his vitals.

Clutch’s face was white with worry. “Rett, hang in there, Buddy. It doesn’t look as bad as I thought.” The waver in his tone brought tears to my eyes. Clutch was always sturdy, cocky and in complete control, but this had shattered his normally unflappable confidence.

The paramedic took down Barrett’s name and age and called his vitals in to the hospital. The second paramedic turned to Clutch. “Do you all live here?”

“No, the guy on the front lawn and the girl they just carried out live here. We’re neighbors.”

“And you both climbed through that window to reach her?”

Clutch nodded.

“I guess you two are definitely the heroes of the night. His back looks worse than it is. It’s blistering up fast though, and we definitely need to get him to the hospital.” The paramedic looked back toward the house where tufts of smoke slithered over the broken window edge and then coiled into rings before disappearing into the night air. “You’re both lucky you made it back out. People jump into burning buildings not realizing that the smoke is blinding.”

Clutch nodded. “Couldn’t see anything and we lost our bearings once we climbed inside.” Clutch looked over at me, and his blue eyes held more emotion than I’d ever seen in them. “Then a sweet angel called us to the window.” His throat moved up and down as he swallowed. “Thank you,” he said quietly to me. “If you hadn’t been there—”

“Told you it was meant to be,” I said softly back to him.

A voice floated over our heads. “Jimmy.” We looked up. An older man who I’d seen walk out onto his front porch moments earlier stood behind us. He looked at Barrett and Clutch. “You two boys are really something else. Aimee is sitting up with an oxygen mask.”