My body obeys without question. His hands slide into my waistband, testing boundaries he already knows I won’t stop him from crossing, and pulls the button of my shorts free.
His hand slides deeper, palm flat against my stomach, his fingers tracing the line of my panties. I’m frozen, my breath caught in my throat. He’s savoring this, savoring the power.
His fingers brush the sensitive skin just above my clit, and I shiver. He stills. “You waxed?” His voice is rough now, gravelly with lust.
I can’t answer. I can only nod, a jerky, pathetic motion.
A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, a sound of pure victory. “Good rabbit.”
His fingers dip lower, teasing the edge of the lace, and my hips buck involuntarily. He chuckles again, the sound vibrating through my entire body.
“So responsive,” he whispers, his voice a dark caress. “Tell me to stop, Sisk,” he says, his voice suddenly serious, his fingers stilling just where I want them most. “Remember our little word? Just say scotch and I will.”
But I can’t. The words are there, on the tip of my tongue, but they won’t come out. He seems to know. He seems to always know.
“Didn’t think so.” His fingers finally slip beneath the fabric, finding me slick and ready for him. “Fuck,” he groans, his control finally cracking. “You’re so wet for me. Did you plan to find me while visiting? Is that why you got your pussy all clean and pretty for me?”
His words are filthy, a direct question that leaves me suddenly aware of every inch of my body. I regain a sliver of mydignity, a last desperate attempt to wrestle back some control. “No,” I say, my voice shaking but firm. “I waxed because Lucas prefers me bare.”
The sound that leaves him isn’t human.
He slowly pulls his hand away, and the loss of contact is a physical ache.
“Lucas,” he repeats. The name is a stone in his mouth. He doesn’t ask who Lucas is. He doesn’t have to. He just says it again, softer this time, a dangerous, deadly calm settling over him. “Lucas.”
This is probably where I should say Lucas isn’t my boyfriend. He tries hard, but I’m just not ready for anything serious. He’s been a nice distraction, and part of me feels bad about it. But I never lied to him. I never said I wanted more, and he always seemed fine with keeping it casual. But seeing the look on Jax’s face right now, realizing he’s not the only guy in my life? That’s actually helpful. I don’t explain because I want him to see he’s not my anything. He doesn’t own me.
A loud boom echoes behind us, something exploding in the distance, but Jax doesn’t turn.
“Well, that was a mistake,” he says, his voice dangerously quiet. “Telling me that.” He reaches out, not to touch me, but to hook a single finger into the waistband of my shorts, right next to my hip bone.
He leans in. “Does he make you wet, Sisk? Or do you just lie there and think of me while he’s fucking you?”
“What are you gonna do, Jax? Punish me?” The challenge is out before I can stop it, a desperate, reckless taunt.
One second he’s still, the next his hands are on my hips, hauling me off the bike and bending me over the leather seat. The next, my shorts and underwear are dragged down in one violent motion. His boot nudges my legs wider while his grip tightens hard enough to bruise.
“Do you want me to punish you, rabbit?”
My pride wars with the ache building inside me, but there’s only one answer I want to give. “Yes, Jax. Show me what you’ve got.”
He kicks my feet apart and pushes inside me in one brutal thrust. “Fuck,” he groans, his voice a feral sound of satisfaction against my back. He doesn’t move, letting me feel every thick, unforgiving inch of him, letting my body stretch and ache around his.
He leans over me. “Let me give you a little preview of your future. Next time you’re in your soft bed with your boring Lucas, and he’s trying to be gentle, trying to make love… you’re going to feel this. You’re going to remember how I bent you over this bike in the dirt. How I split you open, and you’ll realize no one else will ever be able to fuck you like this. No one else will ever make you feel this alive. This is what you’ll be chasing for the rest of your life.” He pulls back, his grip on my hips almost painful. “So I’ll be here. Waiting for whenever you feel like running home.”
He starts to move then, a slow, deep thrust that forces a choked sound from my throat. His hand slides from my hip up my back, tangling in my hair, fisting it tightly. He pulls my head back, arching my spine, forcing me to look at the dark, oily water of the river.
“I should mark you,” he whispers, his voice dark and serious, a terrifying thrill running down my spine. “Leave a little scar right here.” He touches my hip, his thumb stroking the bone. “So every time Lucas tries to touch you, you’ll feel it. You’ll remember you belong to the monster from Tar City.”
The words hang in the air, ugly and intoxicating. Part of me, the part that’s been screaming for him since I saw him at that alley, wants to scream yes. The other part, the part that left this hellhole, is horrified.
“Do it,” I tell him, the words ripping out of my throat before I can stop them.I might be losing my mind.“Mark me.”
He stills. For a moment, I think he’s going to laugh, to call my bluff. He pulls out of me, the sudden emptiness a shock. He grabs my arm and yanks me upright, spinning me to face him. His eyes are wild, burning with a conflict I haven’t seen before.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for. You say that now, but tomorrow you’ll be crying to your soft little boyfriend about how I hurt you.”
“I’m not crying to anyone,” I shoot back, my chin jutting out defiantly. “I’m not a victim, Jax. I’m here because I want to be. I’m asking for this.”
