When she found her release, shamelessly rubbing her pussy on his mouth, he knew that he’d never get enough of Trixie or the way she tasted like honey on his tongue.
Cyclops worked his way back up her body, kissing and nipping her sensitive skin as he went, and when he thrust into her, he couldn’t help but moan. “I won’t last long, honey,” he breathed, kissing her, “you feel so fucking good.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and met him thrust for thrust. “I need you, Cyclops,” she whispered into his ear. “Take what you want from me.” He wanted to tell her that he wanted all of her, and taking what he needed would require so much more time, but he couldn’t get those words out. Hell, he couldn’t even say his own damn name, but they’d get to the point where he’d explain to her that she was his now.
He pumped in and out of her tight pussy, his cock throbbing, ready to find his release. When he lost himself inside of her, he shouted out her name, not caring that the rest of the men in the compound could probably hear him. He didn’t care if they knew what he was doing with Trixie. Hell, he wanted them to know so they’d know that she was his now. No one else would ever lay a finger on her—he’d make sure of that.
Cyclops rolled off her body, already missing the contact. “That was,” she breathed, not saying the rest of what she was thinking. But by the sleepy look in her eyes, she was happy and sated. It was how he felt, too, but he knew that he couldn’t relax fully. Trouble was waiting for them, and he couldn’t let his guard down—not yet.
They lay tangled in the dim light of the new day, their breaths slowly syncing. Trixie pressed her face into his chest like she’d finally found some place quiet enough to breathe. Cyclops stared at the ceiling, his heart pounding like he’d run a marathon. He knew without a doubt—this was the moment everything changed. It was the moment everything got complicated. And he didn’t regret a damn second of it.
TRIXIE
The room felt different in the morning light—warmer and quieter. It was almost too quiet. Trixie woke before Cyclops did—if he even slept at all. Her body still hummed from the night before, every nerve ending tuned in to him—to his hands, his mouth, and his weight above her, around her, holding her like she wasn’t something that could break. He touched her like she was something precious. Cyclops was a dangerous man and a reckless choice that she’d make all over again.
A dangerous ache bloomed low in her stomach when she looked at him. He lay on his back, arm thrown over his head, the sheet low on his hips. The tattoo on his ribs—something dark that rose and fell with his breathing, caught her eye. Without the eyepatch, the scar under it looked almost soft in the gray morning light. He looked more human—vulnerable, even.
She hated that word. It felt like a crack in her armor when someone used it to describe her. She was pretty sure that he’d feel the same way about being called vulnerable, too. Trixie rolled onto her side, tugging the sheet around her. She wasn’t cold—Cyclops radiated heat like a furnace—but instinct told herto cover herself. Instinct also told her to run, and not get used to this or the comfort he brought her. She didn’t want to let herself get used to waking up next to someone who had touched her like she wasn’t ruined.
She should have gotten up and run from that room, and from the compound, but she didn’t move. She didn’t run, even though her heart was telling her to run. For the first time in weeks, maybe even years, she let herself be still.
Cyclops’s breathing changed before he woke. A subtle shift, the kind only a man used to danger would make. His eye blinked open, slow but focused. He looked at her like she was the first thing that made sense all night.
“Morning,” he rasped.
Her heart did something stupid, but she still found her voice. “Morning,” she squeaked.
He reached out slowly, giving her every chance to pull away from him, and brushed a strand of hair off her chin. “You’re still here,” he whispered as though he didn’t think that she would be.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.
“Most women don’t stay,” he breathed. “They stick around for a bit, but are usually gone by morning.”
“Well, I’m not like most women,” she insisted. “Besides, most men that I know wouldn’t drag me off to a fortified biker compound,” she said dryly.
He smirked. “Yeah, well. I’m not like most men.” She rolled her eyes, but her lips betrayed her with a smile. Damn him. Why did he have to be so charming? The last twenty-four hours hit her all at once—the bar, the slashed tires, the guys in the woods, the drone, the sex. God, the sex. She swallowed hard and sat up, pulling her knees to her chest.
Cyclops’s smirk faded as he sat up beside her. “You okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said too quickly.
“Trixie,” he said, not seeming to buy her lie. She wasn’t fine, but there was no way that she wanted to lose her shit in front of him. The way he said her name, she felt it everywhere. Like he already knew which parts of her were stitched with fear and which parts were held together by spite. She looked at him. Really looked, and that’s when she saw the truth—he wasn’t regretting last night, but he was giving her an out. That made something inside her twist—because she didn’t want an out. Not from him. Not from the way he looked at her like she wasn’t a problem, but a choice. Still, the world wasn’t going to pause because they’d crossed a line. Her father certainly wouldn’t stop coming for her.
She pulled in a deep breath and forced herself to speak. “We shouldn’t have done that,” she said. Cyclops didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look surprised. But something in his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“You regretting it?” he asked.
“No.” The word escaped too fast. But she owed him her honesty. She swallowed, “No, I don’t regret it.”
He nodded once, like he’d expected her to say that. “But you’re scared of what it means.”
“I’m not scared,” she lied. She was terrified of what had happened between them and what it would mean for them both.
“Yeah, you are,” he said softly. “You’re scared because it wasn’t just sex.”
Her cheeks heated. She hated that he could make her blush with the truth. “You think you know me so well?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t know everything about you. Not yet, but I plan on finding out everything that I can about you, honey. But I know enough to see you’re spinning your wheels trying to figure out how to handle everything that happened between us.”
