by Jory Strong
He offered his gun hand to Jax, surprising her with the similarity to men in New San Jose when it came to a verbal deal.
Jax released her. The two men shook and it was impossible not to compare them, to see in them the same hard strength and lethality, though Josiah was sharp elegance and Jax raw aggressiveness. They were the kind of men that other men swore allegiance to, trusted and died for.
Jax's hand settled between her shoulder blades on the row of buttons that stretched from the collar to the base of her spine.
"I'll show you out," Josiah said, sounding amused.
DeAngelo waited at the bottom of the stairs. "Escort them to the border?"
From behind Jax, Josiah said, "You can accompany us."
"He told his men he'd cross at the far end of section two," DeAngelo said.
"Then that's where we'll cross."
The thick carpet runner against the soles of her feet returned Eliana to the practical. "I need my shoes."
At the front end of the hallway, Jacob stepped into view, holding her things.
"I can change out of Makayla's dress before we leave," Eliana offered.
Josiah shook his head. "Keep the dress. It suits you and it'll spare me from hearing my sister complain about being made to look like a sacrificial virgin."
They reached Jacob. She knelt in front of the boy.
"I wish you could stay," he said, solemn-eyed, making her ache, though she couldn't be the mother he wanted.
She took the pile of clothing, her throat locked against promising she'd visit and read to him, refusing to become the source of more hurt.
Setting the clothes down, she pulled him into a hug.
Small arms wrapped around her neck. A small voice whispered, "I put a rag in your hoodie."
In case she'd choose to belong to a different warlord.
"Thank you," she whispered back, tightening her arms then releasing him.
She put on her socks and shoes, would have given him another hug, but when she looked up, he'd disappeared from sight.
Eliana stood and Jax shackled her wrist, the heat in his palm penetrating her skin and migrating to her heart. Josiah stood at her other side, frowning, and she wondered if he was thinking about Rosa's saying Jacob needed a mother, seeing the truth of it in Jacob's waiting at the door, in having discovered them reading together in the front room when it'd become clear afterward that he hadn't asked Jacob to escort her there.
For Jacob's sake, she hoped he was. She hoped Josiah would take a wife.
They left the house. Above them the sky was endless blue.
Eliana breathed deeply, and despite being in the presence of dangerous men, in a place where violence could erupt at any moment, she felt more alive than she had behind the city wall.
A glance at Jax's face, and her heart flipped and rolled. He'd come after her, and not because of the reward.
Josiah took them through an aboveground maze of passageways and finally, through a gate not unlike the one in front of Jax's house.
Additional men joined them, ranging ahead and to the sides.
Jax pulled her closer, so their arms brushed with every step.
Multicolored houses eventually gave way to houses all in varying shades of blue. She hadn't known about the significance of colors in the warren, or about wearing them in the form of bandannas or rags that also carried additional meaning in the symbols woven into them.
When she saw a wall of green houses ahead of them, she knew they were about to cross into Jax's territory.
Several feet away from what had once been a wide street cutting through a neighborhood, Josiah and his men stopped.
On the opposite side of the street, the guards who'd been with Jax the night before leaned against a fence. Today green bandannas were tied around their upper arms.
Blocks beyond them, a man wearing baggy gray clothing draged a sled piled with salvaged metal.
"Your twenty-four hours starts now," Josiah said.
Jax nodded and they stepped into the street.
When they reached the halfway point, Josiah laughed and yelled, "Do a better job at pleasuring her, amigo, and she won't run again."
Jax's hand tightened on her arm. He muttered, "Keep your shit together."
Warmth blossomed in Eliana's chest. "Jax—"
He turned his head to look at her. The savage heat in his eyes was a lightning strike straight to her sex.
His nostrils flared. "Do not tempt me into giving you what you deserve right here, right now."
Punishment.
The sensual promise of punishment had been in his eyes, in the hard line of his lips when he'd stepped into Josiah's front parlor, and she'd wanted to experience punishment at Jax's hands. To surrender to his domination and revel in belonging to him then, as she did now.
That desire made her think of the boys who'd grown into the young men she was allowed to associate with in New San Jose. Not a one of them had ever stirred her the way Jax did, or broken through the icy aloofness that'd been her shield against caring for anyone in her walled prison. She'd been frozen in time, and the heat she'd experienced with his first touch had begun a thaw she couldn't find the will to stop.
Jax's men pushed away from the fence. The lighter-skinned one asked, "All good?"
"Yeah, we're good. Anything new?"
"No."
"You and Leon go back to the house. Get two hundred pounds of copper and get it delivered to Josiah."
"Jax—"
"It wasn't a request."
"At least tell me—"
"You've got five seconds, Rand. One. Two—"
"Fuck it, Jax. I hope you know what you're doing."
The lighter-skinned bodyguard wheeled and stomped away. The second man shook his head and followed.
Chapter 9
Eliana's heart skittered and her ribs became a cage to its racing beat.
Jax angled her to the right, toward a narrow passageway between blue houses. They entered it. Stopped.
He glanced up and said, "Fuck."
Her glance followed his and she saw a young girl holding a toddler in the window.
Jax started walking.
The hard grip on Eliana's wrist forced her forward.
They moved through the neighborhood, ignored by residents busy with everyday tasks. The same tasks the less privileged and the servants of the elite would be engaged in behind the wall.
Had she been behind that wall, she'd be at dance lessons or deportment lessons, or sitting in the parlor reading books meant to ensure that she was an interesting conversationalist and companion.
Ladies didn't get their hands dirty or roughen them with menial work, though they were responsible for the upkeep of the house and overseeing the care of the children. Ladies didn't—
There was an endless list of things. There'd been weeks after she arrived in the city when the backs of her hands became reddened from having been struck to remind her of the things ladies did and did not do, when her stomach growled with nearly unbearable hunger after being locked in her room or in the closet to reinforce a lesson.
Blue houses gave way to the windowless walls of industrial buildings too damaged to be reclaimed but too large to waste effort hauling away when there was other usable space that could be expanded upon.
Halfway down an alleyway Jax stopped and forced her against moss-covered red brick. He crowded into her, his lips a savage slash, and it was like the night before all over again. She wanted him at a depth she hadn't imagined possible. He pulled dark, primal emotions to the carefully polished surface that had defined her life from the time she was stolen away from her family. He made her burn and want to live, not just exist for the moment she could escape. He made her want to open her heart not just to a man, but one day to children.
"What's your real name?"
Heat shuddered through her at the menace in his voice and the reminder of the warning he'd given her last night, that she didn't want to lie to him.
"
Eliana."
"And Marie?"
"My middle name."
She wet her lips and his eyes narrowed. She felt compelled to add, "I was afraid to lie to Josiah."
A muscle spasmed in Jax's cheek. He grabbed her other wrist, forcing her to drop the clothing as he lifted both hands above her head and pinned them to the rough, cool wall.
Dark eyes burned into hers, scorched her with possessive fury. Where his pelvis pressed to hers, the rigid length of his erection burned through the dress and intensified the heat already building between her legs.
"You will not say his fucking name again."
Her sex grew more swollen. Her channel clenched, sending a wash of arousal down her inner thighs.
Jax's nostrils flared as if he was scenting her neediness. Her entire body felt as if it contracted, only needing his touch to be truly free.
His mouth slammed down on hers and a sound of pleasure slid from her into him. Her pelvis rocked and ground against his.
There was no equating what she'd once felt for Ansell with what she felt for Jax. A twelve-year-old's daydreams weren't the same as a woman's fantasies.
Jax's tongue thrust into her mouth and another wave of arousal wet her sex, another sound of want escaped, making him more aggressive. His lips pressed hers against her teeth in the same hard, commanding way his hands held hers against the bricks. His tongue dominated hers, holding it down, sliding and rubbing, each stroke building the need to have his skin sliding and rubbing against hers, his cock sliding and rubbing inside her.
He transferred a wrist so he held both of them in one hand. With him, being powerless was already tangled with heady desire. With him, being helpless made her feel feminine in a way beautiful dresses and expensive jewelry and the appreciative looks of the boys she'd been allowed to mingle with behind the wall never had.
Jax cupped her breast. She moaned and arched into that touch.
He rubbed his palm over the hardened nipple and its twin cried out for the same contact.
Streaks of electric pleasure spiked to her clit. Her hips jerked. A sob of need caught in her throat.
His mouth and tongue continued to dominate. If anger and pride and animal lust had a taste, that taste was Jax.
His lower body twisted away from hers. Hers jerked in protest, tried to follow but was blocked by the hard press of a muscled thigh jammed against her sex.
Ecstasy shot straight to her head and she sought another rush of it with the grind of her clit to his thigh.
A growl of satisfaction sounded in his throat and she rocked against him, uncaring that someone might walk past the alley and see her riding his leg.
He'd made her care about only one thing, gaining release. Even breath was no longer important. She survived on his.
The aggressiveness of his mouth and tongue didn't diminish as she rocked and rubbed against his thigh. His kisses remained merciless and savage. And she felt lit up on the inside, as if he'd turned a spotlight on her secret cravings and freed her to fully embrace them, to give herself over to a dominant man and be unashamed by her desires.
The sob trapped in her throat worked its way upward and exploded into his mouth, followed by another and another and another. Each one coming faster. Each one matched to the feverish press of her clit to his thigh.
She tugged with her arms, trying to free her captured wrists so she could wrap her arms around Jax and cling to him.
He held her firm. Hands and mouth and body all proclaiming that she was his to do with as he pleased, and right now it pleased him to make her helpless against need, to keep her helpless so the only way she could find release was rubbing against his leg.
And she was that helpless, couldn't have stopped herself even if an audience gathered to watch.
Jax.
His name came with each jerk of her hips and stab of her clit against his thigh.
Jax.
His hand left her breast and slid down her side and over her hip. He took a handful of the dress and pulled it upward, baring her knee, baring a portion of her thigh then cupping that bared place above her knee with his hand.
Strong, masculine fingers bit into her skin and banded her muscles, sending pleasure pulsing into her sex.
He forced her legs to widen, forced her onto one foot with the bend and lift of her knee so a thigh was pressed to his hip.
He forced her into ecstasy with the changed angle and hard press of his thigh to her clit.
Release shuddered through her. It turned her body into a cage of pure sensation. It turned her thoughts into a blast of red-orange behind closed eyelids.
She never wanted to leave that state of bliss, but the loss of Jax's mouth, the loss of his hand on her thigh forced her out of it.
Her leg slid slowly downward. Her eyelids fluttered upward and a fresh spasm of erotic fear seized her heart.
He didn't look any less savage. If anything, he looked as if her surrender had only whetted his appetite for greater demonstrations of submission.
She trembled and sensuous, masculine lips tipped at the corners.
His free hand grabbed the dress hem and this time he jerked it above her waist.
The cooler air against her naked skin did nothing to reduce the heat in her sex. Exposure to it only intensified that heat.
He released her wrists. "Hold the dress up."
His voice was darkly erotic, completely compelling.
She gripped the dress, her hand touching his.
He stepped backward and the flush of sexual release still heating her neck and cheeks deepened with the returned awareness of where they were, with the feel of Jax's eyes on the swollen, darkened place between her thighs.
She pressed her thighs together. A muscle spasmed in his cheek.
"Spread your legs, Eliana."
The command sent electric heat sizzling through her.
She obeyed and his hand whipped out and cupped her mound.
"Who are you wet for?"
The violence edging his voice said there had better be only one answer.
A flutter went through her stomach. Her clit pulsed against his hand, a rush of arousal adding moisture to his palm. "You, Jax."
It came out a needy whisper.
His fingers plunged into her, the press of his palm to her clit making her channel clamp and ripple and plead.
She fisted the dress tighter to keep from risking his displeasure by letting it go so she could put her hands on his chest and slide them upward, around his neck.
"You, Jax," she repeated.
Her husky whisper sent heat pulsing through Jax. If Eliana had any idea of the things going through his head, she'd be screaming instead of begging so prettily for him to take her against the wall.
He pulled his fingers out of her, fucked them back in.
Her quickly parted lips, her quickened breathing, the little tremors of want that accompanied the clench of slick heat on his fingers helped focus the furious lust.
He was only barely in control. He'd only been able to hang onto it this long because he knew the dress belonged to Josiah's sister.
But having Eliana smell like another man—
Jax's cock spasmed and leaked. Fucking thing was like a fire hose wanting to spray her with come so the only thing she smelled like was him.
Dark amusement filled him at the imagery.
He pulled his fingers from Eliana's pussy and opened his fly.
Her little sound of protest and want had him fighting twin desires, to grab her hair and force her mouth downward to his cock, or lift her and press her to the wall again, this time with his cock shoved inside her.
He fisted his dick. The feel of Eliana's wet heat transferring from his palm to his cock decided him.
He crowded into her. His mouth returned to hers.
The plunge of his tongue between her lips had her releasing the dress, her hands flattening on his chest.
Tormenting, feminine fingers rubbed over the nipple bars and sent jagged, exquis
ite pleasure downward.
His cock pulsed in time to her touches. His dick was still good with the idea of spewing come on her beautiful body, but that could wait until they were back at the house.
It had to wait. Giving in to that primitive desire wouldn't be nearly as satisfying as reclaiming what belonged to him by sheathing his cock in Eliana and swallowing the sounds of pleasure she made.
He cupped her thigh, lifted.
Her hands moved upward and around his neck. His slid from her thigh to her satiny buttock.
Dark desire had him imagining her ass lightly striped where he'd used his belt on her, punishing her for leaving him in the first place and forcing him to come after her.
His hands urged her to climb his body and she did, wrapping her legs around him, tilting her pelvis to make it easy for him to touch his cock to her opening.
Ecstasy obliterated thoughts of carnal retribution.
Fuck. Fuck. He wasn't even inside her and he was about to surrender all control to her.
A single ripple and clamp of Eliana's slick heat and he'd be humping away like a boy getting his first pussy or a man who'd been without for a long time—and she'd know just how desperate he was for her, just how much he wanted her.
He tightened his grip on his cock.
It wept but pain drove back some of the urgency.
He plundered her mouth, staving off the need to plunge his cock into her.
She pressed and rubbed her opening against his cock head, her increasing desperation allowing him to loosen the reins on his control.
The hand on his cock surrendered an inch, a second inch, a third.
Her hungry moans and pleading sighs slid down his throat and like a junkie, he told himself he was master of his addiction, and not its slave.
He released his cock.
He thrust all the way into Eliana.
Her legs locked him in.
His arms around her waist locked her to him.
Every thrust brought a craving for the next.
Every rush of pleasure brought the desire for a greater high.
For the ultimate high.
He pressed Eliana's back to the wall. He pounded into her, his physical pleasure intensified by every one of her whimpers and moans, by the tight grip of her hands and legs.