by Jo Raven
“You should stock up,” I mutter, lifting my head.
I’m not sleepy anymore. My skin buzzes, my pulse leaps under my skin, and the blood rushes in my ears. My blood heats, and my muscles tense.
She only has to come near me, and my whole body tenses with arousal. It’s beyond my control, and it’s fucked up.
It has to stop.
Her fingertips brush over my back, slide down my spine, and I bite back a curse—not pain, it’s not pain but pleasure, and it’s turning me inside out.
Then she sprays antiseptic over the wound, and goddammit, that burns like hell.
“Fuck,” I hiss, and then clench my jaw to keep from doing anything embarrassing like moan in pain.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and I don’t get why.
“Not your fault,” I manage, breathing carefully, waiting for the fire to go out.
“I don’t know about that.” Light touches as she applies the butterfly bandages, closing the cut. Her fingers tremble a little, and every brush against my skin shoots straight to my dick. “When I asked you to look after her, I didn’t mean this. Didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
“Then what did you mean?” I ask, my voice sharper than I’d intended, exhaustion and frustration making me impatient and grumpy.
“What do you think I meant?” Her fingers withdraw, and I wanna hit something so fucking bad. “I asked you to do this.” A scratching noise as she crumples the packaging of the bandages.
“You did.”
“Right.” A tremor in her voice. “And I assume you want your payment now.”
With a grunt, I push to my feet, pissed at life, and at myself. “If you didn’t want this, you shouldn’t have made the deal. I’m your hired muscle now, right? Your friend’s bodyguard.”
Her eyes are wide as I turn around to face her. “Jarett…”
“What?” I make my voice hard to cover up the cracks. “I told you I didn’t want this, but you insisted. Everything you do has a price, doll. Time you learned this.”
Just like I have.
“You changed so much,” she whispers.
Maybe I have.
Or maybe this is who I’ve always been.
And I’m dragging her down into the darkness with me.
Chapter Thirteen
Gigi
He’s looking down at me, arms folded over his bare chest, and I just don’t know what to say. How many times does he have to be a jerk for me to understand he’s not who I thought he was?
In my defense, it’s hard to think rationally when he’s around. Especially now, I mean… Jarett in clothes is already too hot to handle. Jarett shirtless?
Devastating.
Big muscles, dark ink, tight abs, bulging biceps and corded forearms. He has those sexy V-lines, and though his chest is smooth, he has a fine treasure trail going from his bellybutton into his jeans.
“See something you like?” he drawls, and I glance up, flustered, only to get lost in his green eyes.
God. “Don’t be an ass.”
“It’s okay to admit it, Gigi.” He steps closer, and I shift, an ache between my legs.
“No.”
I swear I can feel my pussy clench, my clit throb. Is that normal, just from looking at a guy? It sure never happened to me before, not even three years ago when I used to hang around Jarett.
Then again, he was a pretty, sullen boy then. He’s a frigging sex god now.
So not fair.
“Just tell me what you want me to do,” I manage.
I can do this. It’s not that difficult.
“What do you think I want?” He lets his arms drop to his sides, cocks his head to the side, and I swear to God, my mouth waters. “Tell me.”
This can’t be normal, right? That he’s so handsome.
That I’m so captivated, and aroused. That I can’t stop looking, my gaze following the strong lines of his body and coming to a stop between his legs, at his package.
He’s hard, it’s obvious. Very obvious, and more heat spills down my neck, over my face.
“I, uh.” I clench my hands into fists, because I long to touch him. Run my hands over his chest like last time, unbutton his jeans, see, feel more of him.
Another thing that’s obvious is that I need more self-control. An extra layer of mental shields.
“Come here.”
I take a step closer, and another, until I’m right in front of him. What will he ask of me this time? Last time he kissed me and put my hand on his cock. Will he ask me to go down on him this time?
“Closer,” he says, his voice low and deep, and my clit throbs again, an answering pulse coming from deep inside me. My nipples are hard and aching, rubbing against the scratchy lace of my bra.
I take one last step, until my breasts are mashed to his chest and all I can see is the ink on his abs and his big shoulders.
“I said closer.” He grabs my wrists and jerks me against him, his hard-on pressing into my stomach, taking away my breath. “Gigi.”
I shouldn’t like my name on his lips so much. There’s so much I shouldn’t like about him.
He smirks. “You want me.”
“Screw you.”
“Look, I didn’t ask to be born sexy. Not my fault.”
“Yeah, nothing is ever your fault, is it?”
His eyes narrow, anger sparking at their cores. “And that means what, exactly?”
“You never gave any excuses. Ever. Not back when you barely spoke a word to me, not now that you treat me like…”
His nostrils flare. “Like what?”
Like I belong to him.
“Get down on your knees,” he says. “You know what to do.”
I could slap his arrogant face, walk out the door. I should. He can’t force me to do this, to follow through with this ridiculous deal.
But I want it.
I should hate him for it.
But I can’t. I followed him here. He didn’t kidnap me or anything. Deep inside… yeah, deep inside I’d been hoping he’d demand payment.
How twisted is that?
It’s to help Sydney, I tell myself as I reach for the buttons of his jeans. He protects her. He’s the only person I know who can.
Yeah. Like that’s the real reason you’re here? Keep telling yourself that, girl.
The jeans fall open, and I suck in a sharp breath when I realize he’s going commando. The treasure trail leads down to his thick cock that’s trapped sideways in the denim. I follow its shape with my fingertips, feel it harden more.
I lick my lips, my throat suddenly dry. I tug down on the rough fabric, needing to see the evidence of his arousal, touch it. Freeing his hard-on, I wrap my hand around its thickness as it swings free of its confines. So long, and heavy, pulsing with big veins, the head flushed. It twitches in my hand, growing even larger.
God, it’s so big, so sexy I lean forward, breathing him in. The scent of male musk is filling my senses, peppery and with a hint of his deodorant, pine trees and blood. I hear him breathing, fast and shallow.
“What are you waiting for?” His voice hitches when I reclaim my hold and squeeze, my hand barely big enough to grip the base of his cock. “Fuck…”
My breasts ache, my insides clench with need. Just holding him in my hand makes me feel so hot like I’m about to self-combust.
I lower my head, open my mouth and suck his cock inside, gripping his thigh with my other hand to steady myself.
He tastes good. Salty. Bitter. A hint of sweetness and spice.
A growl rips from his throat. His hand lands on my head, fingers twisting in my hair, and I feel how his body tenses, quivering with desire.
He’s so big my lips hurt as I take him in deeper, then pull back so I can breathe. Saliva pools, slips from the corner of my mouth, but I don’t care. Never thought I’d like blowing a guy so much.
I mean, my experience with blowjobs is limited. I’ve had sex, sure, but I’ve never been that interested in cocks, until no
w. Dicks hold no interest for me—not unless they’re attached to Jarett Lowe.
“Ah shit,” he groans when I lick his cock like a lollipop, dragging my tongue along the underside, then sucking on the head. “Christ, Gigi.”
His hand tightens in my hair, tugging a bit too hard, but I don’t mind. The tiny pinpricks of pain send sparks of sensation straight to my core. I moan, the urge to dip a hand between my legs and press to ease the delicious pressure getting more and more difficult to resist.
Another groan, and his hips roll, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth. I choke when it hits the back of my throat, but I don’t want him to stop. God, I want him to fuck my mouth harder.
I want him to come.
My pussy throbs in time to the thrust of his hips, and I whimper, my hand sneaking down between my thighs without me realizing, just pressing over my drenched panties, and the pleasure makes me moan even louder than before, around his cock.
“Christ, oh fuck, goddammit…” His thrusts become erratic, his breathing ragged, and then he suddenly pulls out, gasping, his cock jerking in long spasms as he comes all over his chest. “Fuck. Fuck.”
I love it. Love making him come, seeing him lose control and make those sexy sounds. He pulls away, and as I rub a hand over my burning lips, I’m sad it’s already over.
Yeah, I’m officially crazy, one hundred percent certifiable. And I’m crazy about the one guy I shouldn’t want.
“Come here.” Hands under my arms, lifting me up to me feet, steadying me. My face is mashed to a muscular chest. “You okay?”
I inhale his intoxicating scent and nod, trying to gather my thoughts. “Yeah.”
“Dammit.” He turns me around and pushes me down to sit in the chair he vacated only minutes ago. Feels like years. “I’ll be right back.”
I blink, wondering what just happened, following him with my eyes as he pulls up his jeans, tucking himself away, then grabs his T-shirt from the floor to clean his chest. I stare at the butterfly bandages I put on his back, white against his inked skin, and shift uncomfortably, my clit thrumming.
Then he’s back in front of me, going down on one knee. “Want some water? Did I hurt you?”
I open my mouth. Close it. Shake my head.
“Kay.” He runs a big hand through his hair, and I’m staring again. “Okay, good. So what do you want?”
“What…?” I can’t think straight. Can’t think at all. “Nothing.”
His mouth lifts up to one side in a smirk. “That’s not true.”
“What do you mean?”
“You want me, Gigi. Admit it.”
That snaps me out of my daze. “Shut up.”
The smirk grows. “I bet you’re all wet for me.” His bright eyes dip to my lap where my hands are twisted up together. “Shall I check?”
“No.”
“So fucking soaked. I can smell you, you know.” His eyes darken. “You smell so good I wanna eat you whole.”
Oh God, he’s right. I’m so wet it’s embarrassing. This has never happened to me before. And I don’t know what to do about it. About this.
About him.
“You’re so pretty,” he says, his voice low and rough, and familiar heat floods my cheeks. “Undress for me.”
I swallow hard. “What?”
“I wanna see you, Gigi. Wanted to ever since I met you. See you, touch you, kiss you. Goddammit, you’ve been driving me nuts.”
Every word hits me like a hammer blow. Because I’d hoped to hear him say this for years, yeah, ever since we met, but I never thought he saw me that way.
“You never said,” I whisper.
He reaches up, touches my neck. “I’m telling you now.”
But things have changed. “No.”
“Gigi…” His brow furrows.
“No, Jarett.” My eyes burn. I’m so frigging scared that I’ll lose grip that I’ll start to cry. “I don’t even know you anymore. Who are you? Because one thing’s for sure, you’re not who you were when you met me.”
“But I am.” His gaze drops. “I am, Gigi. It’s me.”
“Really? Merc said you’re in a gang, Are you? Tell me the truth.”
His hand shifts on my neck, his fingers digging into my hair, gentle this time. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
Holy crap. I push on his rock-hard chest. “Get off me.”
“Gigi—”
“Get. Off.”
He pulls his hand back, jaw tightening. “I told you I’m not a good guy. I dunno what the fuck you want from me.”
And I don’t know what I want, either, what to think. What to make of him.
My hands are still on his chest. He hasn’t moved away. And I’m not really trying to shove him back. So close, I can see the flecks of blue and gold in his eyes, the long dark lashes, the fine stubble on his jaw, his lips.
His lashes lower, and he leans in. His mouth takes mine in a hot kiss, and my hands slide up to grip his big shoulders.
Oh man. He tastes good. Every lick and thrust of his tongue winds up the pressure in my belly tighter. I pull on him, trying to get closer—where just seconds ago I was pushing him away.
He’s still on his knees, and I bend over him as we kiss and kiss, and then his hands slip under my dress. I moan when his fingers tug my panties aside and stroke me where I’m so hot and desperate for him.
He draws back just enough to breathe. “Wanna stop me?” he murmurs against my stinging lips. “Tell me now, or I’m gonna make you come so hard you’ll scream, doll.”
“I won’t…” I’m panting, burning, needing. “Jarett…”
I’m ready to beg. Endless nights of touching myself in my bed mean nothing—I need him to touch me. I have a feeling it won’t be the same.
“Tell me,” he says again.
“Touch me.”
He smiles, then. Not a smirk, not an arrogant grin, but a real smile. “I’ve dreamed of this.”
He yanks my panties down my legs, spreads my thighs, and buries his head between my legs. No warning, no escape.
His lips close over my swollen clit and suck until I cry out, writhing on the seat. I drop back, hitting the backrest, my thighs falling open wider, my eyes fluttering closed as his fingers part me, spread me apart and push into me.
He lets go of my clit only to lick my pussy, his tongue flat, dragging over every nerve ending, making me sob. My body is a live wire, jumping at every sensation.
I don’t know what to do with my hands on his shoulders. I lift them to his head, like he did to me before, and stroke the soft strands. His tongue swirls around my clit, lashes at it while his fingers fuck me slowly, deeply, and my hips lift from the chair.
Oh God. I thought it’d be better than my own hand, but this… this is going to break me to pieces. The pressure is mounting and mounting, bowing my body. I drop one hand from his silky hair to the chair, to anchor myself.
His teeth close gently over my clit, and I cry out. My God, this is so much, too much, just perfect, and I want… more. Gripping the edge of the chair in one hand, his hair in the other, I’m about to come apart. I’m rocking shamelessly against his face, and he sucks harder on my clit, his fingers scissoring inside me, his thumb teasing my back entrance…
I scream as I come, just as he promised. Who knew I was a screamer?
It hurts, that’s how hard I’m clenching down there, my legs shaking, my pussy pulsing like a heart. Holy shit, this is so crazy good. His mouth is still on me, and I’m still rocking, unable to stop as the waves of pleasure crash through me.
The ceiling has a long crack bisecting it. I’m staring at it, sprawled on the chair, legs open, my panties on the floor.
Jarret is kneeling in front of me, looking smug.
Or satisfied?
Smug. Definitely.
“I should go.” I tug down the skirt of my dress, but it’s really short, not really covering me up. “Crap.”
“Hey.” He reaches down, adjusts himself through his pants. Is he hard again
? “That was beautiful.”
“I don’t… I don’t know.”
“Now I know how you taste.” He wipes at his glistening lips and smiles.
“How then?”
“Like fucking sunlight. Like pleasure.”
Why is he saying those things? Those beautiful, confusing things.
“I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have stayed.” I bite my lip, my breath catching, a lump in my throat. Now the pleasure has ebbed, I can’t imagine what got into me. “I have to go.”
His smile fades. Slowly he gets up, picking up my panties. Before he gives them to me, he lifts them to his nose and inhales, eyes closing.
I snatch the lacy scrap from his hand and pull my panties on, avoiding his gaze.
I really shouldn’t have stayed, shouldn’t have given in. I know I’m right. I’m sure of it.
But as he limps over to the table and leans his hip against it, looking at me with those luminous wolf eyes full of shadows, I’m not sure I could have done anything else.
The apartment is cold as I walk to the door. Sweat is drying on my skin, making me shiver.
“Here,” he says, and his deep voice makes me shiver for an entirely different reason. He holds my jacket out to me, and I grab it and drag it on.
I can’t even remember removing it. This whole evening is like a strange dream.
“You could stay,” he says quietly.
“No, I should go.”
He arches a dark brow. “Kay, gimme your hand.”
My hand?
He brandishes a chipped ballpoint pen. He reaches for me and scribbles something on the palm of my hand. It tickles.
“What are you doing?” I tug my hand away.
“My number. If you need help in the future.”
“It wasn’t help for me.”
“I know. Your friend.” He shrugs. “That’s what you say you want.”
“It is what I want. And you do it for the right price,” I whisper, clenching my fingers, wondering why he’d do such an old-fashioned thing, instead of texting me his number.
“Damn right,” he says cheerfully, but then his eyes meet mine, and I take a step back, because they’re at odds with his expression. They aren’t dark with desire anymore, but something else, something sharp, jagged, like a serrated blade.