In one swift motion, I lift her and seat her on top of me. “Only with a specific arrogant wench.”
She pushes off me and tries to shimmy away. “Oh, well then, good luck finding her—”
“Get that cute ass back here.” I grab her and put her back on me. Her pussy pressed against my dick is divine torture. “You’re mine.”
She leans down and kisses my forehead. “Fine. We’re officially a thing again.”
“A thing?” I cup the back of her head and bring her in for a long, scorching kiss. “No, Fizzle. We’re not a thing. We’re an inferno, and we’re going to set this whole fucking town on fire.”
But first, I need to get rid of this hard-on, and that requires Round Two.
This time, Faith is in charge of the situation.
Holy shit.
My girl certainly isn’t shy about taking what she needs. She rides me so hard, by the time she’s done, she requires a second juice box. Also, I doubt I’ll walk right for a week.
Dear God, how I adore this woman.
14
Faith
There’s a certain satisfaction that comes from a job well done.
After I type the final line of the email to Zefra-D, I hit send and push away from the desk with a confident smile.There. Done. With its intricate, interwoven Z and D, combined with a single strand of DNA behind it, the logo is off to the young and valiant CEOs of the pharmaceutical company for their final approval. They were part of the design process every step of the way and were a delight to work with. But all good things must end, and a click of the mouse finalizes one job.
Tomorrow begins a new one.
Another lucrative one, thanks to Daniel Davenport’s sterling recommendation.
That fucking pig.
Hell yes, I’m still milking his atrocious behavior. I plan to ride his sexual assault until the wheels fall off.
“You’re low.”
My satisfied work grin melts away, and every part of me ignites when Jester’s smooth voice slides over me. It’s a physical touch that rekindles the fire he lit inside me yesterday. The one still smoldering in my womb. I spin the chair to watch him walk toward me. And my God, he has a way about him that makes gray sweatpants look obscene. With his chest bare, I linger on the evil clown tattoo decorating his ribcage. With its twisted grin, it’s almost like it’s mocking me. As if it knew it was only a matter of time before Jester would shatter my defenses and bring my hatred for him crashing down around me.
Did I ever truly hate him?
Absolutely.
But sometime between the day he broke my heart and the day I returned to Mayhem, I shoved the anger and hurt aside and acknowledged why he did it. Then I had to battle through my pride and understand why he believes I’m too good for him.
Jester has it twisted in his mind.
It’s not that I’m too good for him. Thing is, Jester doesn’t see his own worth.
True, he’s a criminal. And yes, his morals are, shall we say, questionable. But I’ve also never met a person with a heart as pure as his. He loves with his whole self and has an unequaled generosity of spirit.
He can also kill a person and laugh while doing it. That’s where the whole gray area of his morality comes in. Anyone on the receiving end of his wrath deserves it, so there’s that.
Jester has become somewhat of a living legend. Actually, all the men I grew up with have carved out reputations for themselves that extend beyond Mayhem. So far beyond, even people in Brighton know them by name. It made escaping Jester impossible. Not that he had any intention of giving up on me, apparently. Am I making a mistake by giving our relationship another go? Maybe. But it’s a chance I’m willing to take.
When I extend my hand to him, Jester takes it and rolls me toward him. He pops a glucose tab in my mouth. After I’m done chewing it, his lips sear mine in a kiss that runs through me like lava. It’s a mighty fine greeting after having not seen him since I shut myself inside the spare room three hours ago.
I lace my fingers through his and stare up at his painfully perfect face. “Jester, sweetheart, you need to stop.”
