He thrust deep one last time, hot spurts splashing against my inner walls. “That’s it. Take it all, baby.”
Finally spent, he collapsed half on me, rolling us to our sides while staying buried deep. “Fuck, baby. You wrecked me.”
I caught my breath, smiling against his chest. “That was…”
“Perfect,” he finished, kissing my forehead. “Just like you.”
Almost as though he felt my thoughts drift to the tattoo on my leg, his thumb brushed over my calf. When he lifted his gaze to mine, something fierce and unguarded burned in his eyes. “I’m covering this.”
His tone brooked no argument, but it was also exactly what I wanted. So I just asked, “With what?”
“Come up with a design, and I’ll put it on you myself.”
That sounded perfect to me.
14
ONYX
It started with a text.
Then another.
Then a fucking voicemail.
Each one from the same number—the one tied to Jareth Marks’s personal line. And all of them targeted Elena.
I read the latest message over her shoulder as she stood in the corner of my room, her phone clutched tightly in her hands. Her face was calm, but her jaw ticked. A thin line of tension ran down her spine, and I could see how tightly she was holding her breath, even if she didn’t realize it.
Jareth
Elena, I’m concerned. You haven’t replied to my last few messages. I need to see the sketches. Let’s meet soon. I’ll be at the Chroma Café tomorrow morning for a working critique. I’m sure we can resolve everything.
He ended it with some bullshit about being “worried” and “needing closure” on the last round of reconstruction exercises.
I wanted to rip his fucking throat out.
“Did he give you any more assignments before he sent that?”
She shook her head. “Not after the last few designs. He’s been pushing to meet in person again, though. Kept hinting that a critique would help. That I’ve been slipping. How he needs to course-correct.”
My chest tightened. “He knows you’re pulling away.”
“Probably,” she murmured, her lips pressed tight. Then she looked up at me, eyes steady and determined. “That’s why we should let him think I’m still playing along.”
I was already shaking my head before she even finished.
“Don’t,” I warned. “Don’t even fucking say it.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m the one he wants to see. Who will come to. We can use that.”
“You want to be bait?” My voice was calm, but only because it was buried under six fucking feet of fury.
“I want to help,” she snapped, the flush rising in her cheeks. “I’m the one he used. He branded me. He turned my work into something wrong. And I’m not going to just sit around doing nothing while the rest of you handle this.”
“You being safe is helping.”
Her eyes flashed. “Not if it lets him get away.”
