by Wilde, Kati
Swiftly I wriggle out of my panties. Condoms lay on the nightstand. I grab one and throw my leg over his hips, facing away from him in a good old cowgirl. In control again.
I sheathe his cock and sink down.
Not far. Just a few inches, my breath catching and my back arching as the fat head of his cock breaches my entrance. Oh, Jesus, that’s so good. Slick and hot, the flanged head is the thickest part of his long, deliciously thick cock, stretching my pussy to the limit. Moaning, I rise up again, sensitive tissues hugging that broad, flared crown before releasing him.
From behind me, rough hands take my hips in a hard grip, his fingers digging into my flesh.
“Fuck, Lily.”
The curse is ragged, a half laugh, half moan. Jack knows exactly what I’m doing. He’s done this to me before—pinning my legs wide and slowly fucking into me, shallow, so shallow, pumping that thick flared ridge past the entrance to my pussy again and again, each thrust like striking a match to every aroused nerve crowding my delicate flesh, until I was begging, screaming, burning.
But I wasn’t the only one who burned. I saw the effort it took for Jack to maintain that shallow tease. I felt him shake, tasted his sweat, heard his tortured groans escaping through clenched teeth.
I intend to hear them again.
His fingers tighten as his cock fills the entrance to my pussy. He’s so strong, he could force me all the way down, but his powerful hands offer no resistance when my thighs flex and he slips out of my cunt’s tight grip.
His body shudders. “God, that’s beautiful. Tilt your ass up.”
So that he can see my pussy better. I lean forward, bracing my hands on his denim-covered thighs, then slowly take his cock again and again. I can’t see him, but I can hear him, his breathing harsh and stopping on every downstroke as if he’s praying that this will be the one where I take him all. Praying it will be. Praying it won’t. Because it feels good, so good, and I’m shaking all over again. Not even touching my clit. Just from the drag of his flared head across my aroused flesh.
“All of it.” Voice hoarse with need, Jack suddenly pleads for more, his body arching beneath me. “Christ and fuck, Lily, take all of it.”
Not yet. God, not yet. Each shallow thrust is torment, is heaven, and I didn’t mean to be caught up in this, too, but I can’t stop it, panting as I ride that thick cockhead, the muscles of my thighs on fire. I should have known. I saw what it did to him before, saw the blowback, and how it’s impossible for us to torture each other without torturing ourselves. Impossible to give him pleasure without taking my own.
And I’m not fighting him now. Instead I’m fighting this need, trying not to come and losing, losing. The orgasm starts deep, clenching my inner muscles, crushing the air from my chest before blasting outward on a scream. Overwhelmed, still fighting, I try to outrun it but Jack pushes deep inside me, abruptly jacking upright and holding me against his chest, my pussy clamping down on the full length of his cock. I writhe in his lap and can’t stop my “No…oh, no” when his fingers slide between my legs to gently flick my clit, and my entire body convulses from the burst of agonizing pleasure.
This isn’t in control.
No more, I try to say but I can only stutter out a sobbing breath, then he’s tipping me forward, pushing me over onto my knees but now we’re at the edge of the bed and there’s nowhere to brace my hands.
Rough fingers tangle in my hair and Jack pulls me upright again, his cock deep inside me, his mouth against my ear.
“I told you, Lily.” His deep voice seems carved from stone. “I’m not done.”
Oh, God. He begins to fuck me and I can’t get away, can’t reach for anything. I was wrong, so wrong. The orgasm wasn’t the blowback.
This is.
Because we’ve done all of this before. We’ve fought before. He’s held me immobile like this before, his cock a relentless piston, skin slapping skin. But the emotion filling me is new, and huge, and terrifying, yet when I try to scramble away from it, Jack hauls me back, grinding deep, and I can’t catch my breath. Shivers of pleasure intensify to quakes, and I try to lose myself in this need, but I can’t escape what’s chasing me down.
I love him.
No no no. I’ve never done that before. I don’t want it now but it’s here, squeezing at my chest like it’s trying to come out in words. I fight them but they’re too big, so when Jack angles his head over my shoulder and claims my mouth I throw myself into that ravenous kiss, my lips clinging to his, stopping the words before they slip out. Stopping everything, until there’s nothing but his big hand fisted in my hair, the carnal thrust of his cock, the slippery slide of his fingers over my clit. Nothing but the orgasm bearing down on me and Jack fucking me, fucking me, fucking me.
My back arches when it hits, his name a strangled cry from my lips. Groaning, Jack strokes my clit harder, makes me pay for the torture by wringing another orgasm from my clenching flesh, ecstasy crashing against need until I slump back against him, trembling.
And he’s still not done.
Slowly he swivels toward the center of the bed, where he lays me on my stomach and slides deep. I moan softly, my pussy swollen with arousal, my inner muscles clasping him tight. Gently he fucks me, one knee braced beside my thigh and the other pushing my opposite leg wide, his whole body moving against mine.
I can’t stop shaking. He’s taking all of me. His fingers slick over my clit, gathering my juices before dipping between the cleft of my ass. I cry out as his thumb pushes inside that tight passage, a protest that dies as the sensation flares through my sensitive flesh, making everything tighter, hotter.
“Come with me,” he says hoarsely, and I know I will, he’s not giving me a choice, and already I’m pushing up onto my hands and shoving back against his hand and his cock, trying to take him deeper, deeper. Frantically I grind my hips, my head hanging down, my hair a sweaty tangle swinging around my face with each wild thrust. I come all at once, my pussy clenching painfully hard, once, twice, and it’s all I have left but it’s enough. Jack groans and seems to stagger, his weight falling onto my back, his body stiffening and his cock pulsing against my inner walls.
Chest heaving, he lays heavily against me. I bury my face in the comforter and try to breathe, try to remember what life was like before this. I don’t think it was ever this good.
I don’t think it hurt so much.
His mouth presses against my shoulder, tasting my sweaty skin. “I won’t ever be done, Lily.”
Maybe not. I don’t know if that matters now.
Jack kisses my shoulder again, perhaps waiting for a reply, but I’m afraid that if I open my mouth I’ll just start crying or saying that I love him. I don’t know which would be worse. After a long second, he gently eases away from me, heading for the bathroom to discard the condom and wash his hands. In the past, I’d wait for him right here, and slip into his arms when he returned to bed.
This time I can’t.
I make it into the kitchen before the tears come and then I don’t know what to do. There’s nowhere to go. Just to the sink, where I can’t bear the sight of my swollen lips reflected in the darkened window. I’m well-fucked. Why isn’t it enough?
And why the hell didn’t I see this coming? I knew I was risking my heart. I knew it. But I had no idea what that really meant and I shouldn’t have been so stupid.
Maybe some people love in nice ways, all warm and giving. I’m not one of them. I’m not nice. I’m selfish and greedy and a thousand more nights won’t be enough. But if Jack’s just hooking up then every night is going to hurt more. And that has to be all he’s doing. I can count the number of people who have loved me on three fingers. Widowmaker, who was more like my father than my father was. Jenny and Anna—though honestly, calling our friendship ‘love’ is probably a stretch. We haven’t been friends that long. I’m just counting Jenny and Anna because I love them and I need that love to go both ways, even if it really doesn’t.
I need it
to go both ways with Jack. But I know the odds.
I’m the girl to fuck. I’m not the one to love. And the ones who fuck me aren’t the ones who love me.
Jack fucks me like crazy. He says he’ll never be done. I can’t blame him. The sex is amazing. No one in their right mind would give it up.
I’m not in my right mind. I’m just a stupid dickhole who fell in love with a man who erases every trace of himself from my life each time he leaves. Tomorrow I won’t find anything of him here. Not even the used condom. He’ll just be gone until our next hookup.
But he’s taking little pieces of me with him every time—and he’s not giving me anything to fill the holes he’s leaving behind.
“Lily?” Behind me, Jack’s voice is tense. “You all right?”
My back stiffens. I didn’t hear him. He’s so quiet, I never hear him. But if there was ever a time I would have liked to be prepared, it’s standing naked in a kitchen with tears sliding down my cheeks.
I see him in the faint reflection. So beautiful, his short hair sticking up and his chest bare. All those demons. Maybe I should do the same. Put all the shit that hurts on my left side. My mom, my dad. But they’d be small. This is the moment that would be inked across every other inch.
My fingers grip the edge of the counter painfully tight. Holding myself up, just in case I can’t get through this.
Hoarsely I tell him, “I’m pulling out of our bet.”
He was already standing quietly, watching me, but as I speak his entire body seems to still.
“You’re doing what?”
The gravel in his voice scrapes right over my heart. “This is our last night. Just now, in my bedroom—that was our last time.”
I see him move and my neck tenses, but he’s only looking right and left, like a man waking from a dream and who doesn’t know where he is. “Why?”
God, what can I tell him? I love you and I need more than this? Hooking up for five nights will shred my fucking heart?
Because this was never just a hookup. Even I can’t turn it into one. I tried.
Hot tears slip over my lashes as I close my eyes. “I just can’t anymore.”
And I shouldn’t have looked away. Because he’s so quiet, and so fast, and I’m not prepared when he swings me around and crowds in, his hands sliding up and fisting in my hair like he’s just going to take—
Jack freezes against me, his face ashen. “You’re crying?”
Throat a burning knot, I can’t reply. Bleak torment flattens his dark gaze.
“Did I hurt you again?”
Not like he thinks. This wasn’t his fault. It was mine.
I shake my head and whisper, “Just go.”
His throat works before he nods. His fingers slide forward, cupping my face, sweeping his thumbs across my wet cheeks. “I’ll give you space. But we’re not done.”
Because he’ll want the five nights still owed him. A painful breath shudders through my chest. “I told you I’m backing out—”
“Not the bet.” His head lowers, his firm mouth tasting my trembling lips. “You and me. Not done.”
“We are,” I say but it’s like shooting at a steel wall. Nothing gets through.
Jack kisses me again. Then he goes, and tears out another piece. The biggest piece. Leaving me so empty, I can’t even cry.
And there’s not a fucking drop to drink in this whole damn place.
Chapter Five
Jack
About a year after I killed my father, the shrink at the children’s home sat me down. My eye was throbbing, as I was sporting a hell of a shiner. My lip had been split the day before and I could taste the blood every time I ran my tongue over the swelling. I don’t remember who laid into me that time. A lot of the boys did. I was already bigger than most of them, but I didn’t fight back. I figured I was just getting what was coming to me—and a busted lip felt a hell of a lot better than the rotted shit in my chest.
Not that I ever thought of it like that. Not until the shrink sat me down and told me I was using one pain to deal with another—and that I needed to find a different way to deal before I destroyed myself. His solution was for me to focus on one task at a time. Sometimes that task was just getting from one class to the next. And if someone tried to stop me from completing my task, maybe by jumping me in the showers, I needed to shove that obstacle out of the way and keep on going. I just had to be careful about how hard I shoved.
That shrink’s way of dealing helped. Helped until I found other ways to deal.
I haven’t needed to deal at all in a while. There’s hurt inked all over my skin, but putting it there helped me put it away. I don’t hate myself or brood over the past. I don’t fucking cry over my shitty childhood. It made me who I am—a fucked up bastard who kills too easily and who takes what he gets. Either I started out wired wrong or something in me broke along the way, I don’t know. Don’t much care, either.
But now the rotted shit is back in my chest, and I’m dealing in that old way: focusing on a task. The first was gathering up my things and heading out Lily’s door. It was the hardest walk I ever took—and her front porch was as far as I got before starting my second task. While Lily’s hurting and vulnerable, I’ll keep her safe through the night.
Tomorrow I’ll deal with the knowledge that she might be hurting because I shoved too hard. I fucked up our very first night, making her follow through on the bet. Knowing that, I made her follow through again. Six more nights. I thought she was all in, dragging me to bed by my cock.
Then she ended up crying.
Crying. I rub my chest, trying to massage away the pain, but the rotted ache is just growing. Because Lily was crying and she pulled out of a bet.
Backing down.
She doesn’t do that. She doesn’t fucking do that. She gets up on her feet and fights harder. So whatever it was that hit her must have hit hard. So hard she hurts too much to get up again.
I didn’t know anything could do that.
My cell buzzes and lights up. Message from Stone. Nothing unexpected. I reply and set the phone on the wooden rail surrounding Lily’s porch. More calls will soon be coming in.
Maybe they started coming in to her, too. I hear her feet on the stairs, then Lily comes through her front door—and stops short, seeing me. Pain twists harder in my chest. Her eyes are red, her face pale. She’s in a T-shirt and jeans, but no kutte, and the keys to her truck are in her hand.
“Jack?” Leaving the door open, she comes at me. “What the fuck are you doing?”
She’s looking and sounding pissed now. But most likely still hurting.
That’s how she deals.
“Watching your place,” I tell her. “Croc wants me to join the Hangmen. Said he might use you to persuade me.”
Full lips parting, she stares at me, then looks out down the street as if searching for the enemy in the dark. “You think he will?”
“Maybe.” The Hangmen carry through on their threats. Mostly so that anyone else who might think about turning the Hangmen down will change their minds.
My phone buzzes again. The prez this time, or I’d have ignored the text. I reply and when I set it aside, she’s frowning at me.
“Why didn’t you give me a heads-up earlier?”
Because I keep fucking up. “I planned to in the morning. I figured if you knew how they were looking at you as if you were my property, you wouldn’t let me touch you again.”
That makes her draw in a sharp breath, like she’s taken a blow. She averts her face, looking down the street again. It’s late, and quiet. The only sounds are the crickets and the distant wail of a fire truck siren.
After a second, she says, “I don’t give a fuck what the Hangmen think.”
I know. “It isn’t just the Hangmen.”
She swings back around to look at me as my phone lights. Gunner. I ignore it.
“It’s everyone,” I tell her. “Even the Riders. I’m fucking you so they think you belong to me.”<
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Her lips twist in a bitter smile. “That misconception’s easy enough to fix. All they have to do is to come here and look around.”
“At what?”
“Exactly,” she says like it hurts, and before I can ask what the fuck she means by that, my cell buzzes again and she snarls, “Who the hell is blowing up your phone?”
Stone again. “The brothers. My garage is burning down.”
“Your garage…” She blinks like she’s sure she didn’t hear that right. “What?”
“Croc wanted the business, too. Then said he’ll use me as an example of the consequences of saying no.”
“Jack.” All at once she moves in close, gripping the edges of my kutte and giving me a little shake. “Are you all right? What the hell are you still doing here?”
What’s the point of being there? “Watching it burn won’t change that it’s burning. And I don’t give a shit if it does. It’s all insured. Everything important’s stored off site and since I knew it might be coming, this afternoon I cleared out everything else I don’t want any inspectors finding.”
She gapes at me. “You knew he’d do this?”
“Croc as much as said he would.”
“Then why the hell weren’t you there to kick their asses if they showed up? I can handle myself here.”
“I know you can.” I rub my chest again. Jesus, this fucking ache. “But I’d have missed a night with you. And I only have…had...six left.”
Her breath catches. She stares at me, her eyes searching mine.
“Jesus, Jack,” she finally whispers. “You’re so fucked up.”
“Yes.” But not about this. My priorities here are exactly what they should be. I glance down at her keys. “Where were you headed? I’ll tag along, watch your back. Croc might be using the fire as a distraction to pull me away from you.”
She looks at her keys like she forgot they were in her hand and laughs, a real laugh, low and husky. “I was going to head to the Wolf Den and get drunk off my ass. But since they burned down your place, let’s kick Hangmen ass instead.”