He turns to me and growls, “What do you want, Jude?” He heaves maddening breath, his muscles bulging, his back ramrod straight. A beast primed for attack.
“Not what I want.” I approach slowly, cautiously, offering the nearby horse my hand when she nickers. The goats bleat from the opposite side, a little restless on account of the storm. The reminder of the animals in this barn and how hard he works for them, communes with them, softens the hard lines and clenched muscles in his face. “It’s about whatyouwant, Vincent.”
“Great.” He tips his head back, then jabs one hard fist at the bag. “Creepy, cryptic bullshit from Raph. And self-righteous, shrink shit from you. He’s the mind fuck. You’re the bleeding heart hero fuck.”
I chuff a laugh, shaking my head while approaching. “Is that why you haven’t removed any of Briella’s knitting from the hoodie?” I smirk at the pink heart design with our names.
Roaring, he unleashes his rage on the bag again, but I can tell the difference in his body language. He’s bordering on attack mode. Because heknowsI can take him down. Because heknowsI will. He sees beyond the bullshit, and he’s ready to let it all go and let me get under his skin and in his bones like the good doctor I am.
He just needs a little push.
He needs to get out of his fucking head. Needs to remember he has a heart underneath all those tattoos and raw muscles and underground fighting history when he was little more than an attack dog.
I angle myself toward him, smirk growing becausehe’sgrowing. The bulge in his pants is armored and ready to battle—with mine. We both could use taking the edge off before the hunting begins, since mine is just as hard. All black steel here.
“Get the fuck out, Jude,” he grunts, swinging again, the punching bag ready to lose and bust open.
“No.”
He turns to me, and I’ve crossed my arms, leaning back against the stall, tapping my arm casually.
“The fuck do you want from me?”
I grin. Like a lion antagonizing a bear. “The fuck do you want fromme?”
He fumes, gaze locked on mine, pushing a storm through his nostrils.
“Briella’s not the only one in denial,” I tell him. The second I stop tapping my arm, the second I flick my eyes down to the painfully obvious erection, he charges. Like a bull.
I’m ready for him. I dodge at the last second, grip the back of his neck, and shove his head against the stall wall. I know just the amount of force to use to bruise and bloody him, but not give him a concussion. He snarls with pain and swings his fist.
I duck and strike for the solar plexus, sinking my fist deep into his gut. His breath explodes, but before he can recover, I drop low, using his momentary weakness to my advantage. I know all his tells.
Shifting my weight, I grab his arm, twisting it behind his back in a controlled lock. I pivot, drive my shoulder into his chest to throw him off balance, and with one swift motion, I sweep his legs out from under him.
His back slams against the cement. I land on top of him, using my body weight to get him where I want and keep him pinned. My knee digs into his spine, while I have his arm twisted in a painful lock, my forearm pressing against his neck, forcinghim to stay down. Positions reversed from last time…and my cock throbbing against his ass.
With his cheek against the dirty ground, he glares up at me, but there’s a shift in his gaze. Something less animalistic and more human.
“You done?” I mutter, locking him down even tighter with a feral smile.
He swallows hard, his fists clenched, but he doesn’t fight me anymore. “Not yet.”
I lean down, my lips close to his ear, my voice low. “You will be.”
He tenses, bucks. I slam him back down. “You’ll thank me later, Vincent. Because you’re no good to her like this, and you fucking know it. And it’s timeyourdenial stopped.”
When I let go of his arm, I go for his pants, thankful he’s wearing sweats and no belt. It takes all of a few seconds for me to rip his pants down to the thighs, exposing the tattooed globes of his ass. Covered in the art of our fucked up history.
Vincent flexes. Hard as a goddamn mountain.
“Jude, you prick!” he growls, struggling more. “You and your god-complex get the fuck off me.”
With a dark chuckle, I unzip my slacks and unleash my cock. Longer than his but not quite as thick. I grind against him, lean in, and croon, “You should really listen to your doctor, Vincent.”
Fuck, it feels so goddamn good to get my length between those steel-like cheeks of his. Feel them fucking clenching all around me. I’d never penetrate him. Not a chance in fucking hell. But I’m cutting through all the bullshit tonight. He’s going to feel what we both want, what we both need.
“I don’t want?—”
