Page 83 of Bound in Ashes

Jack didn’t make it any better.

“What are you⁠—”

“Shh.” He grabbed my foot and massaged it before moving up to my calves, his hands warm and strong and soothing.

I sighed despite myself, the tension I held melting away without regard for my best efforts.

Because I could handle rough.

Angry I could match.

But this?

This was torture.

“You’re mad,” I said, hating how my voice shook.

“I am.”

“At me.”

His hands stilled, then he looked at me. “Yes. And at the situation. At Hayes. At that fucking boy who thinks he can look at you like⁠—”

He started massaging again.

“If you’re mad, why aren’t you⁠—”

“Not what? Throwing you on the bed and making you scream until you’re hoarse?” He leaned forward, placing the softest open-mouth kiss on my knee. “Why am I not making you choke on my cock? Only giving you enough air to say you’re mine?”

Yes.

Exactly that.

I nodded.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he continued, his voice soft. Deadly. “You want me to lose control. Make it easy for you.”

His hands slid up my calves. Slow. Torturous.

“But I’m not going to.”

“Jack—”

“Tonight, you’re going to have to ask for it.” He traced the back of my knee. “Every touch. Every kiss. Everything you want from me, you’re going to have to ask for.”

Oh God.

“That’s not⁠—”

“Fair?”

His smile was cruel. “You’re right. It’s not.”

His hands moved higher, smoothing my wide hips, stroking my belly, his touch slow. So fucking slow.

“But you know what else isn’t fair?” He traced patterns on my inner thigh with his thumb. “Watching you let Christopher stand that close. Watching you smile at him like he didn’t almost get you killed.”

“I wasn’t⁠—”