“Shh, I’m going to use your tight little body to get myself off, and you’re going to sit here and take it.” I slide my cock against her, the friction building, her body so tight and hot. I move one of my hands from her hip and slide it into the front of her pants, my fingers finding her slick heat.
“Fuck. Always so fucking wet for me. Too bad you don’t get to come this time.” I bite her earlobe, my hips pistoning, my cock sliding between her ass cheeks. I rock against her body, chasing my release. The truck jostles, and her ass clenches, forcing me to bite back a groan.
The others in the truck are too focused on the mission to pay us any mind, or maybe they just know better than to look. The pressure in my balls builds. My control is fraying. I speed up my thrusts, my mouth buried in her hair to muffle my grunts.
“That’s it, kitten. Take it.” A living, breathing sheath for my cock. She’s trying so hard not to make a sound, to deny me the satisfaction. But I feel the tremor in her thighs. Her breath hitching every time my cock slides deep.
“We aren’t so different, are we? Both just broken things looking for a way to feel. Life fucked us over, and now we’re monsters.”
I don’t know if I’m talking to her or myself. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe we’re the same now—two halves of the same ruined soul.
“I am nothing like you.”
“Aren’t you? You crave the pain because it’s the only thing that silences the noise in your head. The one that tells you you’re worthless. That you failed. That you’re alone.”
One more thrust.
I bury my face against her neck and groan as I come, thick and hot, painting her underwear and slicking between her cheeks.
“Now look at you. A filthy, cum-stained mess. Just how I like you.”
She lets out a small moan, a sound of pure humiliation, as the wetness spreads. I quickly pull up her pants, the rough fabric sticking to her skin.
“Behave, and maybe I’ll let you come next time.”
I tuck myself back in, zipping up my pants. My head is clearer. The static is gone. Replaced with a cold, sharp focus. The mission. The target. The kill.
She scrambles off my lap and retreats to the far end of the bench, putting as much distance between us as the truck allows. Staring at the floor—jaw clenched, fists tighter. The rage rolling off her.
Good. Let it burn through her. She’s going to need it to survive what’s coming. And I’m going to need her strong enough to be useful.
The truck slows.
Showtime.
The mission’s simple. In theory.
It’s a secluded bunker. Old Sovereign training grounds no longer in use. We intercepted encrypted messages—Dalton and Alistair are being held there. Arsen knows the terrain. Said he used to run drills with recruits on those same blood-soaked floors.
Drone footage picked up heat signatures in the far east wings. The corridors are tight with limited access points. We’ll need to split and cover ground fast.
I reach across the bench and grab Arlo’s arm, yanking her toward me until I can lean in close.
“You stay with me. You don’t leave my fucking sight. You do exactly what I say—when I say it.”
She stiffens and I tighten my grip.
“If you hesitate—if you even think about playing hero—I will put a bullet in your leg and drag your bleeding ass the rest of the way. Do you understand me?”
The truck doors swing open, and the cool air rushes in, smelling of pine and damp earth. The second we breach the perimeter, it’s too fucking quiet.
Old metal siding groans in the wind. Rust flakes off the chain-link fencing as we cut through. No alarms. No patrols. Not even a goddamn bird in the sky.
It’s wrong. All of it.
Every instinct screamstrap.
I motion with two fingers. Axe peels off toward the east entrance with his team. Arsen leads a second squad to the opposite wing. I take the center.
