by Luna Quinn
Goddess, with this fucking hard-on he had for her, he’d probably let her. And what the fucking Hellfire, she was giving him whiplash! One minute she cursed the day he was whelped, and the next she looked at him like…like that.
As if she weren’t quite sure if she should kill him or fuck him. Or fuck him first and then kill him.
What game was she playing? Did she think she could fuck with his head like this?
Razor snarled in warning as she strode closer. When she failed to heed it, and only kept coming, he put down the rifle. The Goddess knew he was pissed, but he could never hurt her.
She came at him then, swift and violent. With jabs and kicks and swipes of her nails. She was fighting dirty, and she knew it. He didn’t stop her, though. He didn’t even block any of her punches. It was too satisfying to see her this way—just as fucked up over him as he was over her.
However, there was another reason why he was letting himself be her punching bag. The instant she’d crossed the line between polite arm’s length and personal space, the smell of her excitement had hit him like an ocean wave. She was just as aroused. The scent engulfed him completely and his body responded in kind.
The air was so thick with it, a blend of their combined desire, resentment, frustration, anger, and violence. It was all he could do not to pick her up and put her on hands and knees and fuck her from behind just so he could spank her at the same time for being such a pain in his ass.
That mental image pulled a deep growl from his chest.
Razor’s heart was beating so hard he was sure his cock was matching the rhythm and visibly jumping behind the fly of his jeans. Breathing heavily, nostrils flaring, he stood there and took what Sasha was dishing out.
More of her sweet smell hit his nose, and he had had enough. He was done with nice.
Fuck this.
He was taking what they both so obviously wanted, and if he lost a nut, or his heart, in the process, then so be it.
When she moved to hit him again, he caught her fist, gripping it tighter than was probably necessary. She snarled at him, and more of her need rushed up and surrounded him. It pulled a groan from deep in his chest, and his cock pulsed in answer. He needed her so damn badly.
“You’re out of freebies, pretty girl.”
In one swift move, he had his hand buried in her curly hair and was pulling her up for a kiss. She eagerly moved with him. Their mouths crashed at the same time, and they groaned into each other’s mouths.
The kiss was all desperation and anger. It was a little mean and rough, but he knew neither of them would have had it any other way.
Reaching down with one hand, he cupped an ass cheek and squeezed until she whimpered in either pain or pleasure—he wasn’t entirely sure. It was hard to tell at this point. Not only that, they were both making such an effort to physically hurt the other and drive each other wild with want that the line between hate and lust might as well have been nonexistent: Razor with his tight hold on any part of her he could reach, and Sasha with her nails digging deep into the back of his neck and scalp, her teeth biting down hard on his lips and tongue.
When the need to breathe won out over his need to possess her and be possessed by her, he pulled back. But he didn’t let go. Sasha was here, in his arms, on his tongue, and under his skin, and he was taking as much as she was willing to give. For a moment they stared at each other, breathing heavily. When she didn’t push him back, he went in for another kiss.
When her hands unlocked from around his neck and smoothed down his chest, he used the opportunity to move his hands to her nape. The hold was possessive as fuck, and it didn’t seem to faze either of them. He twisted their bodies around to walk her backwards until her ass was against the seat of his Harley.
Sasha had remained surprisingly docile, if one could even use that term in relation to her. Her sea-colored eyes looked up at him with both submission and a promise of retribution. The painful kind. Bring it on.
He stole another kiss, her mouth following his lips when he backed off.
“Turn around and bend over,” he ordered, unable to get the growl out of his voice. He was pleasantly surprised when she readily obeyed. Goddess, was this really happening?
Leaning down until his hands were flat next to where her forearms rested on the leather seat, he put his lips to her ear, and for a moment, simply enjoyed her scent, and the feeling of having her welcome his body so close to hers, sharing her heat. He knew he was trembling, but then so was she.
“I want to fuck you,” he confessed, his hips rocking into her ass almost on their own volition. She moaned, arching her spine. The action screamed Yes!, but he needed to hear her say it. “If you don’t want me inside you, you need to say, ‘Stop, Razor,’ in the next few seconds. Or you can say nothing, and I’ll just take the scent of your wet pussy as my invitation.”
Chapter Thirteen
Letting Razor, the foul, arrogant mutt, kiss her again had been stupid. Because now she wanted more. The words she felt leaving her mouth were ten times stupider.
“Stop isn’t my safe word. Red is.” Fuck, was that breathy, husky voice really hers? A shiver danced down her spine, and she knew he felt it by the way his body tensed over her. Around her. Completely surrounding her.
She was a damn idiot, and she needed to keep her mouth shut.
Razor growled darkly in her ear, and she bit her tongue to keep in any noise she would have made. He laid one of his hands over one of hers, twining their fingers together. His touch was so soft, so gentle, that she wanted to weep. He caressed her knuckles, the top of her hand. She couldn’t handle it. Arching her back, she pushed her ass back, rubbing against the entire length of his cock. She didn’t want gentle. She needed this messy, rough, and now.
His fingers suddenly clamped around her wrist like a cuff, pinning her in place.
Before she could make a sound of protest, his mouth latched onto her neck and sucked. The feel of his mouth there went straight to her clit.
Her thighs tensed and pressed together, and she groaned despite herself as her eyes drifted closed. Fucking asshole. Why couldn’t they just have their quick sex and get on with their night? The bastard had pointed a gun at her; she should not be enjoying this as much as she was. But fuck, he was good.
Not only did she feel the scrape of sharp teeth at her neck, but when he pushed her legs open with a knee, his hips cradled her ass in such a way that his cock rubbed against her clit. The heat of him almost seared through their layers of clothes.
His hand drifted up along her side, finally cupping one of her breasts. She nearly groaned at the touch. She wasn’t proud of how desperate she must have looked and sounded, but she just needed to feel. Him. This.
Still, it wasn’t enough. She needed to show him how she wanted it, get them moving to the actual fucking part.
She managed to almost stand up. For a second.
Razor pushed her back down with a snarl, his hand curled around the nape of her neck. He left his fingers there, putting just a small amount of pressure and keeping her down.
The pure possessiveness in the primal gesture made Sasha freeze, her breath catching in her throat. He didn’t have to say, You’re mine. She could feel the words on every inch of her skin, in the very air. His fingers tightened, then soothed. Spelling out the words and leaving their marks behind. And for a moment, she wanted him to be hers, too.
This was the part where she would run. And she should. She really should. This moment…it was everything. Sex was one thing, but letting him in to this part of her sexuality? She’d never planned for it to happen again.
But when was the last time anyone had awakened her desires so easily? So naturally? She also couldn’t recall the last time her arousal had drenched through her panties.
She’d never been this turned on before in her life. And the Hellhound alpha shit should have pissed her off. Whether he was marking her intentionally or not, she should have told him to fuck off and disappeared.
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br /> That wasn’t what she did, though. Instead of putting a stop to it, she very calmly lifted her hands and slowly placed them back on the seat of the bike.
It was such a subtle show of submission, she wasn’t sure he would even understand it. The pleased rumble she heard from him confirmed that he had caught on. And liked it.
He leaned down, speaking near her ear. “Pull down your jeans.”
His hands went back on the bike, and she bet he did it on purpose, knowing she’d have a harder time moving with his body completely caging hers.
Instead of being trapped, she felt safe. And she so was not going to look too closely at that right now.
His command was exactly what she needed, and she took her hands off the seat to pull her zipper down without a word. It was difficult to push her pants down in the position he held her in, so she pulled them down while wiggling her hips. She exaggerated the movements against his cock on purpose until her pants were down, then slid down the scrap of black cotton that passed for her panties.
Without more warning, he was all over her. She couldn’t even track where his hands were, or where he was kissing, licking, and biting, because it seemed like he was everywhere at once. He was marking her, leaving his scent all over her, and despite knowing she was already in too deep, she moaned in pleasure. Wanting this, wanting more. She writhed against him helplessly.
All too soon, he pulled away, then crouched down behind her.
“Stay,” he said. Goddess help her, but she stopped her wiggling. Following his orders was a hell of a lot easier than thinking. She didn’t want to think. So she remained still, and she could feel his gaze zero in on her pussy.
Another pleased rumble left his chest. He didn’t move for all of two seconds, and then his hands gripped her thighs and his fingers spread her wider. She dropped her forehead to the seat in pleasure, tilting her hips up in a silent plea.
He answered by closing his mouth over her, his tongue sweeping deep and his thumb rolling over her clit.
Sasha gasped loudly, then moaned as her hips jerked.
She hadn’t expected this. She’d had quick, dirty sex in mind. Apparently, Razor had slow, torturous, death-by-oral sex in mind instead. And she was too busy floating in pleasure to stop him.
Her mind started to shut down at the precise, practiced sweeps of his tongue. As his teeth nipped at her outer lips, he pressed her even more firmly against the bike, the vibrations of the running motorcycle only adding to the sensations. Normally during sex, she was pretty much in control of her body and her reactions. Now, she writhed helplessly and gripped the edges of the seat to keep herself in place for him.
“Razor…please.” Her husky voice took her by surprise, the plea slipping out. She was almost a little ashamed of herself.
At her begging, he got up quickly, and she heard him unbuckle his belt. His nose was once again at her neck, and he was sucking and biting at her skin. Once his pants were down only enough to free his cock, he found her entrance and gripped a handful of her hair, tugging her head back until her gaze met his. The sting of pain was brief, and went straight from her scalp to her clit. When their gazes crashed and held for a heartbeat, so hot and electric, he thrust into her without a word. She was so ready for him that she nearly wept in relief as he finally sank into her. There was nothing gentle about this. Their bodies clashed together as violently and as full of need as their kiss had been before.
Her eyes wanted to close from pleasure, but she made herself keep them open. She stared into his dark eyes, falling into their abyss, no longer shy about just how loud she was getting.
Even now, so deep inside of her, she felt his need for her, and it scared the crap out of her. She was getting a glimpse into a side of him she had tried to convince herself she never wanted to see. Cheeky, playful Razor was gone, and in his place was electric, passionate, dominating, and so-very-addictive Razor.
He held her too tightly to keep her in place and hard enough to hurt, but she soaked the pain in. The pain he gave her made her feel alive. She was giving everything up to him in this moment, and that made everything else okay.
She didn’t understand how that worked, but there was no thinking as he pounded into her relentlessly. Deep. No pauses, no slowing down. Just pure, raw Razor. Exactly what she’d needed.
Sasha didn’t dare look away from him, watching every shift of his features. One of his hands slipped down her pelvis to rub her clitoris, matching the rhythm of his hips.
She felt her orgasm coming too fast, too quickly. Too selfish to worry about him, she let it wash over her, coming so hard around his cock, she went blind for a few seconds.
He didn’t seem to care that she had come without him, and he actually slowed, fucking her gently through the spasms as he spoke a few words in a language she didn’t understand. Was it Vruk?
She’d heard of the language from the Underworld before, and she wanted to ask what he was saying, but then his mouth crashed down on hers, swallowing her moans of pleasure.
While she was still shivering from the aftershocks, Razor suddenly thrust sharply into her, making her whimper. Then again and again, grunting into her mouth. One last deep thrust, then he was quickly pulling out. A moment later, she felt his hot come splash over her lower back, and they both groaned simultaneously.
She shivered at the feel of his release running down her flesh, finding pleasure in it. Finally, she let her eyes close as she panted heavily. He released his tight hold on her hair, her head falling on her arms draped over the seat, her entire body feeling boneless. When his hand settled back around the nape of her neck, she let the seat hide her smile. She would enjoy his possessiveness just for another minute. Just until her brain caught up again.
All too soon, he removed his hand, took a step back, and she heard him begin to adjust his clothes.
The cold that rushed around her stole her smile. Reality intruded. This was why she didn’t do intense. Why she kept her sex simple.
“Don’t think this changes anything,” she found herself reminding him as she stood up, pleased when her voice was so steady and matter-of-fact. She needed to remind them both of their places.
She reached back and wiped the come off her skin, taking a moment to look at it smeared over her hand. Then she flicked her wrist, sending the thick semen, and the proof of their fuck-up, away. She made sure he caught her lip curl in a show of disgust as she stepped away.
That wasn’t at all what she was feeling, but she had to put on a show. And she needed to sell it.
“We’re only business partners. I still can’t stand you,” she added to drive the point home.
He didn’t say a word. Which probably should have scared her. A Razor without a witty retort to her banter was probably not good. But she was drawing a line in the sand, and it was clear he saw it. That was all that mattered.
He moved around her, straddling his bike, and she saw tension in his entire body. He revved the engine, not even looking at her now. “Welcome to the club, we have Tshirts. I’m sure you can find your way out,” he bit out, and then sped out of the garage.
Welcome to the club, we have Tshirts? What the hell did that mean? Who else couldn’t stand him? Everyone she knew seemed to love him.
Feeling the weight of another gaze on her, Sasha looked up at the camera practically hidden amongst the beams in the corner. She flipped the camera off, knowing Sin must be watching her. Maybe he’d watched them the entire time. She’d tease him about that later. Knowing he had eyes on her didn’t stop her from her sudden brilliant idea to have the last word with Razor, though.
Her boots echoed faintly in the dark garage as she walked to the far wall, wishing the scent of sex would go away. Her eyes swept down the line of parked motorcycles that belonged to Razor, taking a moment to admire each bike. She couldn’t look away from a flashy red bike that looked brand new.
Thirty seconds and a small strip of wire later, Sasha swung her leg over the red motorcycle and started the bike
with a smirk. She gave a finger wave to the camera and sped out of the parking garage. She took the long way home, laughing whenever she hit dirt or mud. Even then, a nagging feeling in the center of her chest kept her from enjoying it too much.
Chapter Fourteen
Slamming the door behind him, Razor swung the backpack he’d been carrying clear across the room. It crashed against the painting Edge had given him for his last birthday. It was one of his favorites. The artist had captured an unguarded moment between Razor and his brothers, and somehow put into each their smiling faces a reflection of each of their personalities.
Right now it could burn in Hellfire for all he cared.
He roared in fury, his skin prickling with the need to shift. To kill something, to run and forget about everything and everyone for a few hours.
He snarled.
Not everyone, just one person. This thing with Sasha was getting messy. No, not getting. It already was messy. All because of his feelings and shit.
But could he really have stopped them? There had always been some sort of…fireball in his chest that had started the moment he’d first met her. It had grown into a jumbled mess of all the stuff he felt for her. And now after having been inside her, it felt ready to explode. It all had to mean something, he was sure of it. He just didn’t know what. And that, the not knowing, not having the particulars of something that felt momentous, was fucking torture.
Yanking off his boots, he threw them carelessly to the side. They wouldn’t stay there long. As soon as this anger receded, his obsessive cleanliness would force him to go back and take care of the mess.
What the fuck had happened back at that parking garage? Had he been high? What had made him think he would ever be good enough for Sasha? She’d dismissed him so easily afterwards. Letting him know all it had been to her was a let’s-get-this-out-of-our-system screw, and yeah, it burned.