His eyes narrow, and I feel my cheeks heat. “Food is the last thing on my mind. I need you at my mercy.”
My chest heaves, my heart working overtime. He wants to screw right now? He looks like a lost little boy, not himself at all. And as much as he turns me on when he’s being all bossy, Jagger like this is unusual, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea. “Last night…”
He cuts me off. “We’re not talking about it.”
I try to roll out of his grip, but he takes my hands and pins them above my head so I can’t move. “I want to talk about it. You can’t just keep brushing me off and screwing when you’re feeling out of control.”
With my hands gripped in one of his, he uses the other to run over my silk sleep shirt, taking a handful of my breast. “Why the fuck not, flower. Talking never made me feel the way fucking you into submission does.” His hand continues to travel down, slipping under my shorts. His finger slides over my pussy.
Oh no he doesn’t. I suck in a breath and find some courage from deep within. “You panicked last night, lost control for the first time since I met you. That must have been scary.”
His eyes whip up to meet mine. Then he cracks his neck. I know I’m getting to him, but right now, I don’t care. We’re more than fuck buddies, and he’s going to treat me like it. He sucks in a labored breath. “The last fire I was stuck in should have killed me.”
“But it didn’t.”
His face is unreadable. I mean, I know he’s irritated, but I’m not sure what he’s about to do. He reaches past me and takes a belt from his bedside table, and brings the thing up to my wrists where he binds them together.
“What are you doing?” I gasp, trying to wriggle free.
His eyes meet mine again, and they’re deadly serious. “You want to talk, we do it my way.”
Fuck, I’m not quite sure what that means, but the scatter of goosebumps that rises over my skin tells me it’s probably going to hurt both of us.
He hooks my bound hands over some chain thing that’s attached to the upholstered head of his bed, trapping me.
I stare up at him. “You’re not doing a lot of talking.”
“You still have too many clothes on.” He starts with the top button of my sleep shirt, concentrating on each button as he releases it. Then he pushes it open, revealing my breasts.
I can’t help but squirm as he goes to remove my shorts as well. “Jagger, I can’t have a serious conversation with you while I’m naked.”
He grips the shorts and tugs them off. “It’s that or we don’t do it at all and I fuck you anyway.”
My eyes narrow in on him. “Start talking,” I warn, seeing as now he has me how he wants me.
His eyes run leisurely over my body, inspecting every inch. “My brothers found me just in time. Seconds later I would have gone up with the building.” He says it with no emotion in his voice. It sounds hollow, and I don’t know how that can be possible when he’s telling me about how he nearly died in a fire his father had something to do with. There are so many fucked-up layers to that, it would have to cut him deep.
“What happened, Jagger? Please let me be the person you can be vulnerable with. I want to help you.”
He rolls his lips, and I think he’s going to shut up and not tell me. The palms of his hands come to the inside of my thighs, and he shoves them out wide.
I gasp in shock, not expecting the sudden movement.
He runs a finger through my slick folds, spreading my juices as he goes. “Syd left me for dead. Beaten by a couple of the thugs who worked for him and passed out in the desolate police station that had been abandoned years earlier. He had every intention of letting me die that night.” He pushes two thick fingers deep inside me.
Heat spreads through my body. His story is so sad, it kills me, but the way he’s toying with me has my body on edge and practically begging for more. I know this is what he wants, todistract me so he doesn’t have to talk. “So last night when the fire started, you got trapped back in the past?”
He curls his fingers in a way that makes me feel even more full. “You can’t change the family you’re born into, flower; you know that as well as I do.” His thumb strokes leisurely over my clit. “But I sure as fuck made sure that cunt paid for what he did to me.”
“What did you do?” I whisper, my body already so damn close to tumbling over the edge.
“Sloane wanted him dead, wiped off the planet, but that would have been too easy, too humane for that piece of shit. I needed him to suffer. And as fate would have it, the Morettis needed something from me, so we cut a deal. He lost everything he cared about that night, his club, his men, his sons. After he was removed from his position as the Iron Strykers president, I was put in charge. A few years later, I was told Emilio Moretti found a place for him within his organization, but I couldn’t give a shit that the slimy fucker clawed his way out of the hole he created. He could live so long as he never came back here.” He ups the pressure and speed, taking me to the point of no return.
I cry out as I cum, my arousal coating his fingers, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps fingering me ferociously. His head drops, and he laps me up hungrily, desperate.
I try and hang on to something, anything, but I can’t with the way my hands are tied. All I can do is moan into the room, getting louder with every fresh flick of his tongue. It’s all too much and not enough at the same time. “Jagger,” I whimper his name as a plea for mercy.
He smiles up at me cruelly, then takes my ankles in each of his hands, pushing my legs back so I’m folded in half. “Stay like that,” he demands as he removes his boxer briefs. His cock is thick and hard, pre-cum beading at the tip. He kneels in between my legs, and in one move, plows deep inside my pussy.
