Coen: A Pittsburgh Titans Novel, page 7
I roll my eyes and give him my back. I start at the trees closest to me, meticulously untwisting the wire hangers I created. I’d never let him know, but each of these feeders was lovingly painted by me, Ann Marie, Hayley, and Erica yesterday. They answered my call for help, and we drank wine and laughed as we decorated them. My friends stayed well past midnight to help me plant all this stuff on Coen’s property. It took us a good hour to set it all up, and I’ve already been here for over two trying to take it all down by myself.
I try to work as efficiently as I can, but I’m all too aware of Coen sitting and watching. It’s one thing to have a physically intimidating man who I’ve already had a few nasty run-ins with staring at me, but it’s another knowing he’s a hot, successful professional hockey player.
Yeah… I’d looked him up after leaving Masha’s. Sat right in my car and googled Coen Highsmith and learned a lot in a very short time. I don’t know sports, but from what little I gathered, he was a big deal to the Titans’ hockey team, their highest scorer, and he wasn’t on the plane when it went down. His career had tanked this year—I’m assuming fallout from the tragedy—but he’s been in some trouble. I’ve known him to be nothing but a jerk, and apparently, that’s how he was when he was on the team following the crash. Why he’s here in Coudersport is a mystery, but it’s kind of weird knowing someone who’s famous but not really knowing a lot about why he’s famous.
“The deck looks decent,” he says, and I jolt again, lost in my thoughts. “Of course, all those rodents will probably come back looking for food, so you might have to return and clean up more of their mess tomorrow.”
I growl, glaring at him over my shoulder. “I’m not coming back. You only get me today to clean up.”
“You left some holes in the ground from the stakes. You’ll need to fill those in.”
I grit my teeth. It’s true… as I pulled some of those stakes, they brought up chunks of earth, too. The holes could be hazardous.
“Fine,” I say as pleasantly as I can while I unhook another bird feeder. “I’ll have to get some soil.”
I move over to the next one, standing on my tiptoes to reach the wire. This one was clearly hung by Erica, who is five foot eleven. She obviously never figured my little five-one self would be the one taking them down.
With a huff, I remove and gently place it on the ground. It’s going to take me forever to move all these to my car, but maybe he has a wheelbarrow I can borrow.
The next bird feeder is higher, and no matter how hard I strain to reach the wire, I can’t get close enough to untwist the hook.
Sighing, I turn to Coen. “Could you help me with this?”
Damn… no one should look that good. Long legs sprawled and slightly spread apart. His T-shirt leaves nothing to the imagination as far as how physically fit he is. He’s not wearing the hat or glasses he had on at Masha’s, and his hair is messy.
Coen pushes out of the chair, leaving his bottle behind in an armrest cup holder. He moves to my side and looks at the feeder. “Can’t reach it?”
“You know I can’t. You just watched me struggle.”
Coen looks down the line of trees. “And you have several others that are a little too high for you as well.”
“Looks like. Will you get them down, and then I can work on those holes in the ground?”
He rubs his chin thoughtfully, then bends to look down at me with a taunting smile. “No. I don’t think I will. I do have a ladder in the shed, if you want to get it.”
I’m incensed that he’d be so damn petty. “Oh my God… why are you such an ass?”
He shrugs. “I’m told I’m pretty good at it.”
“You’re a fucking professional,” I snap, and then point a shaking finger at him. “I read about you, you know. You’re not a nice man.”
“Why did you have to read something about me to come to that conclusion?” he taunts. “You couldn’t have figured that out on your own?”
“Then why in the hell did you bother saving me from Cici’s torture?” I yell.
That seems to stun him. “You should have stood up to them.”
I wave my hand impatiently. “I’ve stood up to them my whole life. It doesn’t do any good. She would have given up, eventually.”
“The fact you let them talk to you that way and do nothing to defend yourself is only going to keep them coming after you.”
I’m suddenly furious that he’s giving me advice, or is it actually that he’s shaming my inaction? Regardless, I’m pissed. “Oh, that’s rich coming from a bully himself. You don’t get to have an opinion on how I let people treat me when I’m trying to focus all my efforts on dealing with the douche canoe standing in front of me.”
“At least I don’t shame you about the way you look,” he growls back.
“No, you try to physically intimidate me, sue me, and threaten to have me arrested.”
“Jesus Christ, Tilden.” His voice is loud and angry. “Can you please take a bit of fucking responsibility and admit that you started all of this by planning to cut down my trees?”
My head feels like it’s about to explode. “They are not your trees,” I shriek in frustration. “They are on a piece of land that—”
That’s as far as I get before Coen grabs me by the shoulders and jerks me forward. My first thought is he’s going to throttle me because I’ve pushed him too far, but instead, his mouth comes down on mine.
It’s not a nice kiss, but punishing in its force and bruising in its intensity.
And it’s the best kiss I’ve ever had.
This is not a mere smashing of lips the way I did to him earlier today but rather open-mouthed with his tongue sliding in to tangle with mine.
I’m so embarrassed that my reaction is to groan so loudly, I’m afraid the wildlife might be scared away. But Coen seems to like the sound, because he growls into my mouth and hauls me closer. One hand goes to the back of my head and the other to my ass to pull me into his body.
I’m so freaking dizzy as he forces me against him, and I feel every hard plane that he’s honed with exercise. Most keenly, I feel the thick bulge of his erection against my stomach.
Coen wrenches his mouth away and presses his forehead to mine. His chest heaves, and my legs shake. “Why are you such an irritating pain in my ass?”
I open my mouth to argue, but he shakes his head. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”
And then he’s kissing me again, and I cling to him for dear life.
This is, without a doubt, the most bewildering yet exciting thing that’s ever happened to me in my life.
This man, who I pretty much despise but who I’m also heavily attracted to, seems to have the same draw to me.
And he’s gorgeous and domineering and grumpy, and for some reason, he makes me want to be impetuous right along with him.
I give myself grace—just a moment to honestly ask if I’m crazy for letting him kiss me—and then I decide I want to be crazy and see what’s on the other side.
My hand slides into his hair, fingernails scraping lightly along his scalp. His chest rumbles, and his hands slap to my ass, pulling me against his hard length as he brutalizes my mouth.
And then… he hoists me up, forcing my legs around his waist, and he’s walking.
Moving gracefully without once lifting his lips from mine.
He backs me right into a tree—thoughtful or not, the bark is smooth, so I’m guessing yellow birch, but I’m not about to pull away to verify.
With my body pinned against the trunk, Coen grinds against me, and a jumble of words fall from my mouth into his.
Oh God.
Yes.
Oh God.
Please.
My fingers tighten in his hair and I grip hard, causing him to hiss.
But he never stops kissing me or pressing what is an intimidatingly large erection into my core.
I’m hot, needy, on the verge of begging, and he’s been kissing me no longer than fifteen or twenty seconds at most.
Happening so damn fast.
Coen’s mouth moves from mine to graze along my jaw, feather down my neck, and then he bites me on the tender flesh just below my shoulder. I jerk in his arms, and he chuckles against my skin, except it doesn’t come across as amusement.
More like sinister promise, and I’m okay with that. For one reason only, and that’s despite him being a world-class jerk and my border enemy, he saved me from bullies today. He played it off and would deny it if confronted, but he heard the things Cici said to me, saw that she wasn’t going to stop, and he chased her off.
It pains me to admit, but this puts my nemesis in a gray area where I’m wildly attracted to him, even knowing he’s going to use all his resources to bring me down.
Is that what makes this more exciting?
Certainly, it makes it more fucking confusing.
No time to ponder that as Coen lowers my feet back to the ground, and I almost protest, but then his hands are at the button and zipper of my shorts. His fingers move fast, efficiently, and in the blink of an eye, his hand is down my panties.
“Oh,” I gasp, head falling back against the tree. He does no more than cup me, and I swear I can feel my heartbeat between my legs, pulsing against his hand.
Coen stares down at me with such a feral intensity, it makes me want to shrink away, even as my hips push insistently against his hand.
“Christ,” he mutters and I rock against him wantonly. His eyes blaze with what looks like both lust and irritation, and I understand it all too well. It’s exactly how I feel right now.
His hand squeezes me and I groan, but then it’s gone.
I start to cry out in true protest—hell, give me a sign, and I’ll march the picket line—but then my breath freezes as he falls to his knees. Gripping my hips, he presses his face to the juncture between my legs and exhales hot breath that seeps right through the fabric and into my skin.
Tipping his head back, he says, “Tell me to stop.”
I’m mesmerized by how beautiful he is kneeling before me, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to tell him to stop. I have no clue what he even wants to do to me, but I’m going to find out. I give a tiny shake of my head and that’s all he needs. Coen yanks my shorts and panties down my legs. My hands flail out as I’m practically knocked off-balance, only to slam on his shoulders to steady myself.
When my matronly Bermuda shorts are at mid-thigh, I’m stunned beyond belief when Coen leans in, presses his mouth to my exposed sex, and runs his tongue straight up my slit.
“Fuck,” I scream in pleasure and astonishment.
Never has any man done something so wild and carnal to me.
His head tips back, and his eyes are so dark, they’re almost black. “I’m a kinky son of a bitch, Tilden. If you want to run, you better do it now.”
Do I want to run?
My brain hollers that I should, but my body remains stubbornly still.
He must take my hesitation as capitulation as he presses his face back into me, growling as he licks. His hands work to yank my clothes down my legs. They reach my ankles and he lifts a leg up, never once slowing his ministrations with his mouth. He roughly jerks off my tennis shoe, pulls my foot through the leg of my shorts, and then hikes it right up over his shoulder.
My face heats as I’m splayed before him, but he doesn’t pull back to look—merely dives in deeper with his mouth to lick and suck at me. I writhe and whimper and I almost break apart when he mumbles against me, “So damn sweet.”
“Coen…” I gasp as I pull at his hair, delirious from the sensation overload.
He grunts in response, lowers his other shoulder, and drags my other leg up and over. The man has me pinned against a tree, my legs over his shoulders, tongue against my clit, and when he adds a finger inside me, I flip out.
I buck hard against him, but his strength holds me in place. My entire body flushes hot—so hot I’m going to melt—and then his lips form around my clit, and he viciously lashes his tongue against me.
I cry out as pleasure bursts inside me, spreading outward in waves of bliss that curl my toes. My hands clutch onto his head as he continues to lap at me. My hips flex up and down, his mouth still dragging out tremors of pulsing euphoria in what will forever go down as the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.
Suddenly, I’m boneless, and but for Coen’s shoulders holding me up, I’d happily fall to the ground where I could just look up at the leaves and smile for a good hour or so while I reflect on what’s just happened.
Coen pulls one leg off, making sure it’s steady on the ground before doing the same to the other. I take a shaky breath as his mouth skims over the curve of my lower belly. “I knew you’d be a screamer,” he murmurs.
His head falls back, and when our eyes meet, I realize it’s the first time I’ve not seen what I can now pin as an ever-present, underlying anger. He looks wound tight, but he doesn’t look pissed about it.
Things would probably be okay if he’d stand up and kiss me. So I’d know that I didn’t just give in to lust so easily because there might be something there.
But he doesn’t do that.
He rises, and I put my hands back on the tree trunk for balance. Wetness glistens on his lips, and I almost combust when he licks at the lower one.
Coen’s gaze moves from me to the trees over my shoulder. A thoughtful expression softens his face and then a mischievous light glitters in his eyes.
Those lips that just destroyed me curl into an evil smirk, and he wipes his hand across his mouth. “Couldn’t have done that to you if you’d have cut the trees down, now, could I?”
Coen pivots on his foot and walks away, chuckling as he heads toward his house.
“Seriously?” I call after him, bending over to thread my foot back through my shorts.
I’m pulling them up as he turns his head slightly to yell over his shoulder, “We should have a bumper sticker made. Save a tree, ride my mouth.”
He laughs heartily at his joke.
Did he do that to me just to make a joke? Prove a point?
Was there even any attraction, or was he just putting me in my place?
“You’re an asshole,” I call after him, angrily zipping my shorts.
“Yes, I know,” he calls back and shoots a hand up to wave in acknowledgment.
I watch as he trots up the steps of his back deck, enters through the sliding glass door, and disappears.
“Motherfucking asshole,” I snarl, even as I can still feel tiny pulses of pleasure between my legs when I move.
I put on my shoe, look at the bird feeders I’ve taken down, the ones still in the trees, and the salt licks in a pile.
“Fuck him.” I decide that I’m not doing another damn thing to clean up this mess. He can call the police for all I care.
I stomp over to the cooler he left behind, snatch a cold beer, and twist off the cap. As I take a drink, I vow that I’m going to do everything in my power to win this lawsuit. I’m going to cut down every damn tree and wipe that smirk off his face, then I’m going to pursue my dreams and forget about my awful neighbor.
CHAPTER 9
Coen
My dick is so fucking hard it hurts. I don’t know what in the hell I was thinking out there, but Tilden Marshall is one lucky girl. If I’d had my wallet on me with a trusty condom tucked inside, I would have taken her down to the ground and fucked her brains out.
Kissing her to shut her up.
Putting my hand in her pants to shock her.
Eating her pussy because I wanted to own her with an orgasm.
That may have been the hottest thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve done some seriously kinky things.
It wasn’t just about control. What made it beyond hot was who she is. A slightly weird, completely annoying woman who’s not my type and who should be intimidated by me but isn’t. She’s got a fire deep within her that I enjoy provoking, and as I walk into my house, I don’t know that I’ve ever been more disappointed in my life not to be able to bury myself deep inside a woman.
The second the sliding glass door closes behind me, I head straight into the master bathroom. When the shower is steaming hot, I step in naked and grip my aching cock.
I stroke it slowly, pressing my other palm against the tile as water beats down on my neck. I replay that entire scene in my head. I relive every single detail within my memory as I fuck my fist.
As I’m envisioning the way Tilden orgasmed, hips bucking, her hoarse cries of pleasure, I come long and hard with a piteous groan of relief.
“Fuck,” I gasp.
Christ, that felt good.
Since the crash, I haven’t been with a woman. Only me and my trusty hand whipping out pitifully dull orgasms and feeling like shit about it after.
But that?
That left my legs shaky and my body feeling a satisfaction I’d long forgotten. I’m not sure I could have handled fucking her out in the yard. Probably would have come the moment I sank into her.
I release my spent dick and turn around to face the spray. I let it hit my face, washing her essence away, although I can still taste her on my tongue.
God, she tasted good.
I want to do that again, but it’s the sudden realization that to do so would imply there’s something between us.
And there’s not.
There can’t be.
She’s not only my opponent in a legal battle, but I’m not interested in any type of relationship. Not interested in friends, lovers, or even family. Certainly not interested in a fuck buddy.
Not really.
I mean… she’s as close as I’d consider.
Mentally chastising myself, I step out of the shower. After I’m dressed, I head onto the back deck.
Tilden is gone, and I see she’s left the bird feeders and stakes behind. I know without a doubt she’s not coming back for them.
With a sigh, I resolve to finish the cleanup. I won’t call the cops. Never would have, to be honest. And truthfully, it was a little shitty the way I’d just walked away, so I’ll give her a pass.
A chipmunk sits on the deck railing and when I walk out, he makes no move to scamper away. I walk by him slowly, and he just watches me.
