by Jayla Kane
He wanted me too.
I knew he did—I knew I hadn’t imagined that, the way he kissed me, the snap of electricity between us when I felt him open up and show me who he really was, beneath. I dug my nails into his back and dragged them, up, up, over the tattoos I could feel ridging his skin, up to those shoulders so padded with muscle I knew he barely felt me, tasting his kiss; it was just as good as before. Just as sweet, as ravenous—it only took a second before we were devouring each other, his thick fingers sliding over my hips and then hoisting me into the air as my legs wrapped tightly around him, my ankles hooking in the middle of his back to press our centers together. Jesus, that cock—I had some experience, more than I wanted, but this one… I don’t know. The reality is that I couldn’t do this—I couldn’t lose my virginity to Hunter on that hard, straw-filled sack, I couldn’t wait and tease and stroke and beg for it until my body was primed, because that shit would take days. He wasn’t going to fit. Not in any part of me, probably. Not down there, not in my mouth—I had no idea what the hell I was thinking. I guess I wasn’t thinking—I just wanted.
I was just an appetite, when it came to him.
Nothing more. No matter what motives I had the second before his mouth touched mine, once he kissed me I could think of nothing else but how to get more of him inside of me. Now. Immediately.
He spun around so that it was my back against the wall, and when I landed I felt the air rush out of my lungs, felt that hardness below dig in and press against me. I was barely wearing anything to begin with, but suddenly it was way too much. I tugged far enough away from him to wiggle out of my top, letting it fall on the floor, and he leaned back and looked down, his pupils dilating as he took in my naked chest. I arched my spine to let him see them, all of them, and he rolled his hips into the open groove dividing my body, making me squirm while he started to kiss his way across my throat, down my chest, his hands digging into the meat of my ass as he finally tasted the bare skin of my breasts.
We were almost the same color, there; I’m darker than my sisters, and I’ve asked my mom about it and never got more than a shrug. My breasts and my ass—all the skin that I hide from the sun—are slightly lighter, a dimmer color, except for my nipples, which are a very dark pink. Hunter was tan, and we matched, down where I was most vulnerable. His lips were sweet on my skin even while his hands were rough, his big cock digging harder and harder into the fault line of my body, our clothes in the way; his tongue slid across my nipple and it felt so damn good I moaned into the air, the sound echoing around us. His beautiful eyes darted up towards mine—just once—as he closed his full lips on my nipple and sucked so hard his cheeks hollowed, his tongue flicking across the sensitive tip so fast it told me exactly what he could do to make me cum, if he wanted to.
If I begged for it.
“Hunter, take me over to the bed,” I whimpered, and my voice didn’t even sound like my own. He ignored me and moved on to my other breast, his hands sliding further down so that he was cupping my ass, his fingers slipping towards the crack in the center, gently pulling so that I was opening, the slightest bit, my rawest parts bare and throbbing against the hard bulge bared against me. “Hunter, please,” I gasped, but he just pushed, slowly, harder and deeper, my thighs separating more and more and my pussy opening, so damn slowly, under the pressure. My clit stung. He bit my nipple—the finest bite, so deliberate and tight—and I thought I might cum right there.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” he snarled, but I just bucked into him, closing my eyes as he pushed harder, as if he couldn’t help himself. If we were fucking right now, he would be so far inside of me… My weight was entirely on my own shoulders, the back of my head, his big hands holding me aloft. He could—he could take me like this, and it would feel so good. It would hurt so bad.
“Yes you are,” I whispered. “You want to. Do it.”
“No,” he growled, and then I was off of the wall and on the bed, thumped down on my knees in front of him. And the biggest cock I’ve ever seen was suddenly free and stiff and demanding, right in front of me. “I’m not going to fuck you, Miss,” he told me, and then thick fingers were dragging across my scalp, seizing my hair at the base of my neck. “But the part of you that wants me—really wants me—I’ll give that part of you some of what it needs.” I didn’t care about his words. I could barely listen to them, let alone process them; my pussy was hungry and there was his giant dick in my face, and that’s all I could think about. I didn’t even have the self-control to wait, and I leaned in, kissed the very bottom, hot and smooth, and licked him like a lollipop.
That shut him up.
And then I moved closer and raised myself up, because I couldn’t rest on all fours and reach the head—no, he was so long and so big I had to raise my body up and suck, my fingers sneaking across that smooth, glorious stretch of abdomen behind his cock, a stomach so hard you could see each tendon twitch, framing the view in muscle, and when I glanced up at his face…
He wasn’t thinking any more either.
But he meant it. He wasn’t going to fuck me, and I wanted to hate him for it, but I couldn’t. Hunter pulled out of my grip—the suction from my attention echoed around the room in a loud ‘pop’—then picked me up like I weighed nothing, and flipped me upside down.
I thought I might be dreaming for a minute—it was so sudden and so strange. But no—he was just so damn big and strong he picked me up and spun me around and then I was dangling in his arms. It took less than half a second for us to land on the bed, and then my ass was planted on his face and I understood what was happening.
And it was incredible.
Like I said, I’ve done some stuff—I mean, who hasn’t, at this point. Innocence is a luxury I never experienced. But this… This was intense.
“I don’t want—”
He didn’t care. We were past that. I threw my pussy at him too many times and now he was going to catch it. He buried himself below, stealing every breath I had left, and then I felt a heavy hand on the back of my head, steady and sure as it threaded itself through the hairs on the base, as if he were holding my ponytail. Pushing me down, guiding me towards his cock. And then he started fucking my face. Slowly, methodically, deliberately.
That’s how he ate my pussy. But that’s not how I sucked his cock.
I was starving for him; I had been, since I ripped my body away from his months ago, from the promise of pleasure so entwined with shame that only complete abandonment of all my pride could land me here, right now, begging for him as my back arched and drove my wet slit along the wedge of his tongue. His other arm snaked around my waist, pulling us tightly against one another, and he lapped me with the same languid precision below as the rhythm he used above, gently conquering every inch of me as I shivered under his touch. He didn’t even take off my shorts, just nuzzled them aside, yanking them tight against my damp body when it suited him to tease me. And when I started to cum it was only because he decided it was time, that he wanted that from me; he controlled everything, every second of what we did, how I felt, what I tasted, what I got.
And I loved it.
I was shameless when the first wave rumbled through me; his palm flattened on my back and he drove his tongue inside of me at the same time his cock sank inside of my mouth, rubbing the edges of my lips raw and making my eyes water. I moaned and the sound was stifled, a sticky film coating the roof of my mouth… He withdrew his tongue from inside of me and rolled it expertly against my swollen clit, then sucked it, sucked it slow and hard, and fucked my face the same way. My belly ignited, sparks shimmering across my skin; they raced up and down my spinal column and pulsed a wave of pleasure through me so intense I slammed my hips down on his chin, my body involuntarily begging to be opened, to be filled—he let me do it, sucking the tension out of me as I screamed his name onto his own cock, the flayed edges of my lips stinging with pain as he made me shameless and sweaty, then raw and exhausted… And then he made me do it again. And agai
n. I would never have begged to cum like this—so recklessly posed, so exposed, so demeaned and owned—and that made it so much hotter. And he knew it. Knew exactly what I wanted, what my body demanded of us both.
I was so tired and damp my hair was sticking to me; the air was filling with moisture from the way our bodies worked together. He hadn’t taken off any of his clothes. His shirt had simply worked its way up as I writhed on top of him, my frantic orgasms wringing all the dignity out of me as the skin of my belly sought his. His jeans were tight on his thighs; he was so tall he was just using the floor as leverage, lifting his hips to rhythmically fill my mouth as I swallowed, sucked and screamed.
And he still hadn’t cum.
I didn’t think I could do much more. My eyes closed; the arm on my waist wasn’t just holding me captive, now—it was holding me up. And then he pulled himself out of my mouth with another loud pop, and I was flipped over once more… But this time my head was in his lap, and he was looking down at me, his face mostly shadows.
“You didn’t finish.”
“You didn’t earn it,” he said, and I narrowed my eyes.
“Fuck you.” And then we were quiet. Everything was quiet; my whole body was humming—with pain, sure, with raw spots and rough edges and tender places that had been sucked and bitten and shook for too long when the muscles gave way to the pleasure that wrecked me. I closed my eyes, turning my head slightly; he had managed to pull his pants up over his hips somehow, but I found myself trying to nestle into his skin. Any skin, anything that would smell like him, like what had just happened.
It took a second for me to realize one of those big hands was stroking my cheek, so softly, tracing my jaw, then gliding back along my cheekbone, then across my brow. I sighed under his touch, the tenderness addictive… I wanted it to mean something. Something more than I could admit to wanting out loud.
Hunter wouldn’t fuck me because he was afraid for me. But I needed the power now—and yes, I wanted it for all the same reasons I had. Curiosity is either one of my flaws or one of the only interesting things about me, I can’t tell, and I can’t reveal it to enough people to learn the difference. But the other reason—a shinier, sadder reason—was that the boy I liked had powers. I couldn’t remember the last time I just liked somebody, liked the way they were. Maybe I never had, if they weren’t related to me already and packing the same equipment.
But I liked Hunter. I liked the way he was. I liked that he was so loyal to his sister he would do anything, literally anything to protect her. I liked that he was smart but didn’t show off, that he was strong and didn’t want to hurt people, that he would if he needed to. I liked him.
Why did everything have to be so fucked up?
I liked the way he smelled. I’d liked it before when it was traces of motor oil and sweat and the peppermint I’d seen him sucking on in the truck when we pulled into the garage, and I liked it now, when there was a hint of animal underneath it all. I liked his beautiful eyes that he worked so hard to keep from reflecting those deep, quiet thoughts, I liked his gruff voice, I liked his hands and his beautiful strong body. I liked that he was still here, stroking my cheek, when the last words I said to him were fuck you.
I wished he would lay down next to me.
I’d never done that before. I apparently saved up all my firsts to give to him, at least in my own mind.
I drifted off, ready to dream about his arms around me.
I should never have gone to sleep; that’s what I regretted about so much of what happened, later on—I wasn’t vigilant. I was compliant, sated, stupid—all because of Hunter Black.
I just didn’t hate him enough.
Chapter Fourteen
Hunter
I needed to sleep. I was so tired I could barely see straight, and I hadn’t been home to check on Molly in twelve hours; that wouldn’t have been so bad if Baby hadn’t made those painfully obvious connections for me. I texted her even though it was late once I was standing in the Commons, at the base of Thorn tower, and when she texted me back, promising me all of her locks were in place, I swallowed the rock in the back of my throat and walked across campus to Jake’s suite.
I had some texts from him, too; I knew I might. He was in such shitty shape, I felt like I should be locking him in that damn dungeon. But he had Raven, now, and once I knew she wasn’t a murderer, knew that everything I’d done—and Baby had done—was based on the mistakes of a couple fifteen and fourteen year old kids… I had to swallow the bitterness.
Baby and I never would’ve met, anyway. We went to different high schools. We didn’t have the same friends… Well. I guess we might have, if Jake and Raven stayed together.
If they’d had the life he wanted them to, once upon a time. I could remember him staring drunkenly out over the churchyard, gin clenched in his fist. I’d just talked him out of chartering a flight to San Jose so we could drive down to Tijuana—he’d watched some stupid movie and gotten the idea planted in his brain, re-emerging once he was so wasted he couldn’t stand. And then he asked me who I was taking to Prom, and I laughed out loud, and he laughed with me, a long, hearty laugh, and then he got way too fucking quiet, for way too fucking long. And then he told me about Raven, too much about her, and none of it current enough to make sense.
I knew he loved her; it was too much, the way he obsessed, the viciousness of his attention. I knew he thought she killed Tristan, too.
It made me a little sick—how fucked up would that be, right? To be in love with someone you truly fucking hated?
I didn’t hate Baby like that.
She was right; she hurt my fucking feelings. She wanted to use me, and I don’t think she even knew how or what for—the way her body responded to mine was so… Fresh. I mean, I don’t spend a lot of time with girls my own age but I just couldn’t imagine she’d done anything like that before. Some of it, she was familiar with. She wasn’t afraid of the equipment, anyway. But something about it… Baby was still innocent in some ways. And I don’t think she knew.
She thought it was all games, manipulation, tit-for-tat; she thought everything boiled down to power exchanges. I slowly made my way up the stairs to the top floor and wondered how long it would be before I didn’t smell like her, didn’t taste her on my lips.
Another text from Jake. I read it, sighed, and rubbed my temples. Then I made sure nobody was around and jumped halfway across town, to the garage; I knew nobody was there. Nobody would see me showing up out of nowhere like something from a nightmare. I walked across the street to Mercy’s, the only convenience store in town, and got some hot food—sandwiches, soda, fries. I was starving, but I didn’t realize it until I smelled the meat. I walked back across the street and jumped back into the cell—I did it all at once, one deep breath and a low crouch, and bam—I was standing over Baby. Her sleeping body, topless, so perfect she looked like something I dreamed.
I put the food on the end of the bed, and tucked her in, sweeping those dark tendrils of hair back from her forehead. She ran hot when she slept, but it was cool down there; she’d get cold eventually.
I thought hard about how to do it, then jumped into the empty room in Jake’s suite. It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be. I was getting better with practice, and as long as I was careful—very fucking careful—to make sure nobody saw me, I was pretty sure I could get around town this way. Tomorrow I could try jumping back to the house. Check on Molly.
Maybe make sure my dad was still alive.
Jake knocked on the door. I knew it was him because I recognized the code; we thought it up when the Society first showed up in our lives, back before I knew they were fucking magic. Before I realized there was nothing that would keep them out of my room if they wanted to get in.
But that was fine; I had my own magic, now. Pretty fucking sure they’d think twice about taking the chance of surprising me. Especially if Baby’s thoughts on the matter proved correct, and it was just the Rose and her lackey.
&nbs
p; I handed him the food, and looked them both over; Baby was right about Raven’s hickies, too, and that meant they were definitely fucking.
Which meant more goddamn magic.
Fuck.
I listened to what he said and tried to imagine being able to stay awake the whole night; I couldn’t. I wouldn’t be able to. But I also knew Raven was pretty low on their target list right now—if they’d really been after Jake and Raven, they would have locked them in the cells next to Baby. I was insurance, anyway; no one would want to take the chance of coming close enough to surprise me if they knew what I could do. I watched Raven and Jake and realized she was talking out loud while he just stared at her—it was weird. In the past, I would’ve thought nothing of it, but now… Raven and Jake had some kind of power that allowed her to hear him. Not sure who was in control of it, but it was definitely there. Something else to report back to Baby.
Just thinking her name made me hard. I shook it off and concentrated on a plan; Jake looked frantic. And when he did speak, he was talking to Raven like she was… A friend. But Raven wasn’t having it, and I didn’t blame her for a second. She took the food and shook us both off, too exhausted, from the dark circles under her eyes, to care about being polite to the men that made her life hell for years. I had nothing to say on that front. But if somebody tried to hurt her, I would eviscerate them.
Not just for Raven; I don’t know her, even if I respected her a lot more now. But for Jake… And for Baby.
I pushed a chair against the door in my room after I locked it up tight, and let my head fall back. My body was half-way transformed in the dark; I made myself stay that way, so I could hear better, see better. I knew Jake was leaving. He probably needed to rest too, especially after the last few days. He looked both healthier and worse tonight, which I hadn’t thought possible but here we were. It was good, I thought, feeling my body begin to drift off, that he and Raven were… Hanging out. Fucking. I don’t know, whatever the hell people go through when they try to have a real relationship, that’s clearly what was going on now—and even if it sucked it was better than everything that came before.