by Kit Rocha
He caught her hand and held it against his chest, unable to let go of his concern. If she was too dazed to look at him when he asked, how could he trust that she'd stop him before he took things too far? “Are you still woozy?”
“Yes.” She shoved at his shoulders, but not to push him away. When he rolled to his back, she followed, climbing over him with a predatory gleam in her eye.
Woozy, maybe—but not out of it. When her hips settled over his, her thighs spread wide, her pussy slick with need and grinding down against his cock, it took everything in him not to flip her over onto her knees and drive into her. To ride her fast and hard while he admired the marks he'd left on her skin.
Soon. When he understood her well enough to know when she'd had enough and when she needed more. For now, he was content to grip her hips to steady her. “You did good, Jeni. So good. You would have taken more for me, wouldn't you?”
“Yes.” She rocked her hips until the head of his cock rested perfectly against her pussy, then stopped. She hovered there, one heartbeat away from driving down against him. Waiting.
Waiting for him to decide. To take or deny, reward or punish. The tangible weight of the responsibility pressed in on him. If he wanted her to, she'd balance just like this—thighs burning, body aching, nerves overloaded. She'd do it until she collapsed, because of the piece of leather wrapped around her throat and the promise it represented.
Everyone was right. He'd understood what the collar symbolized, but not what it meant. There was knowing what Jeni liked to drink or how her mood impacted her hairstyle, and then there was this. Knowing when a whimper meant too much, and when it meant keep going. When glazed eyes and a trembling body called for gentle handling, and when it called for more.
He'd asked for too much, but he wasn't giving it back. He'd learn to be worthy of what she'd given him, even if it meant asking for help.
And he'd learn by watching. He tightened his grip and flexed his hips, watched her face as he pushed up into her.
Her breath caught, and she nodded quickly before smiling down at him. “See?” She met his thrust as she leaned over him, so close that her hair spilled across his chest. “It's all right.”
It was better than all right. She was hot and tight, and their bodies fit together as if they'd done this a hundred times already. He splayed one hand at the small of her back and guided her in another lazy rock, shuddering almost as hard as she did when his thighs brushed the heated flesh on her ass.
She hissed in a breath and followed him down, grinding against him. “Hawk…”
He gathered her hair with his free hand, wrapped it around his fingers, and urged her to look at him. “I got you,” he rumbled, forcing every word past gritted teeth. Her pussy clenched around him, tempting him with selfish oblivion, but he kept his thrusts slow and guided her into each one. “Come on, Jeni.”
Thrust after thrust, the sizzling tension built. But instead of speeding her movements, Jeni slowed even more, until all that was left was the flex and sway of their joined bodies as she stared down at him.
Sheer, beautiful agony. He dragged her closer and groaned against her cheek. Her skin tasted of salt, of tears, and he licked his way to her ear before nipping it sharply. “Let me feel it. I want to know how hard you come when you can still feel my handprints on your ass.”
She whimpered and buried her face against his neck. Her hands skated up his sides, then beneath him to grip his shoulders as she tilted her hips. It turned the slow grind into something charged and fervent, a fire that blazed out of control a heartbeat later.
She came with a moan she muffled against his skin, the sudden bite of her teeth burning through him. The pain crashed into the pleasure of her body pulsing hot and wet around his cock, and he almost followed her over the edge as swiftly as he had last night in the barn.
Too easy. Pride rioted, and he was moving before he could stop himself. Jeni was still shaking when he spilled her to the bed and flipped her onto her stomach. He barely had to touch her hips—she came up on her knees willingly, desperately, so eager that his hands shook as he dragged her thighs wider and drove deep into her still-clenching pussy.
She cried out with relief and something darker, something almost like anticipation. The cries melted into words as she closed her fists around the blanket—the words he'd demanded of her. “Harder. Please.”
The paler skin of her back brightened to red on her ass. The marks of his hand, vivid and raw, and he ran his fingertips lightly over them just to feel her shudder again before he gripped her hips and eased back.
Then he drove into her. Hard.
Jeni moaned. She begged, pleaded, but it was her silent reactions that strained Hawk's control. The way her skin flushed, the fine tremor in her thighs that only intensified as he kept fucking her. The way she arched back every time he pulled away, as if she couldn't bear to have a single moment of contact end.
They were the key to the puzzle that was Jeni, everything he needed to learn her. To understand her.
To master her.
She bit her arm as another orgasm swept through her, the sharp bite muting even sharper cries. His rhythm faltered as she tightened around his cock, coming so hard that the clench of her inner muscles turned into the sweetest torture. Pleasure arced down his spine and settled as a knot at the base, a pressure he could barely deny.
Grinding deep, he slipped his hand beneath her to find her clit. She squirmed, gasping, but trying to escape the demanding press of his fingers only rubbed her tender ass against him. “Keep coming,” he commanded, increasing the pressure of his circling fingertips. “I don't even have to fuck you, Jeni. I'll get off just like this, feeling your pussy squeeze tight because you can't stop getting off on me.”
“Hawk—” Her voice had gone rough, hoarse.
She pulsed around him, hot and irresistible, dragging him down. He clenched his eyes shut and tried to hold back. Just a little longer, just a little—
“Thank you. Thank you—” The words dissolved into a shriek. She bucked back, so hard that he had to drive her hips to the bed to hold her in place. The dam inside him burst, flooding him with pleasure so razor-sharp it cut to the bone.
He'd have scars from this, marks no one could ever see and he'd never stop feeling. Because with Jeni trembling beneath him and his head swimming with relief, with satisfaction so deep it reached places he'd never even known were there—
There was no going back.
She sank to the bed, exhausted, her tangled hair spread across his pillow. Hawk used the last of his strength to shift his weight before he crushed her. He collapsed on his side next to her and stroked her hair into place before moving his soothing touches down her spine.
Her shaking eased as he caught his breath, but she was still limp beneath his hand. When she shivered, he caught the edge of the blanket and dragged it over her before resettling close enough to watch her back rise and fall with her breaths. “You with me, honey?”
“I'm here.” She turned her head, then rolled to face him. “We have so many things to figure out.”
More wild strands of hair were stuck to her temple, her cheek. He took his time brushing them away. “Not just about the sex.”
“Mostly not even about sex.” She touched the collar at her throat and smiled. “Practical concerns. Things people usually have figured out before...this.”
He tucked the blanket more firmly around her and tried to ignore that it was plain cotton, and that the sheets were as utilitarian as the walls. Not much of a palace he was offering her, but he could make it finer if she gave him a reason to. “You can stay here, if you want. With me.”
“You could demand it.” Her fingers slowed, lingering on the silver medallion on her collar. “That's what this means.”
The truth of the simple reminder settled over him, another layer of responsibility he'd seized without realizing he was asking for it. She'd sleep wherever he told her to, because she'd agreed to be his.
&nbs
p; A huge promise for a tiny scrap of leather. “I'd rather not have to.”
“I want to be here.” Her other hand settled over the tattoo on his chest, the one that matched her medallion. “I do.”
“Then stay.” He slid his hand over hers and twined their fingers together. “I don't know how long we have before the sectors explode. I don't want to spend any of it not being with you.”
She answered by snuggling closer, trapping their joined hands between them. Her head fit neatly under his chin, and he tracked her gentle drift toward sleep by the slowing of her breaths.
Jeni, in his bed. The sectors might explode any day, but tonight, he didn't care.
Chapter Eight
The first order of business with the herb garden was to get the seedlings Alya had given them transplanted into the beds and tiers up on the roof. Once that was finished, Jeni's next job was to get the seeds they'd also been given into containers so they could start them inside the greenhouse.
The second part was really fucking hard, considering she could barely sit down.
Jeni set a fully planted sprouting flat on a shelf inside the greenhouse's protective structure, then slid gingerly back onto her stool at the high worktable. Her bruised ass throbbed in protest at being unceremoniously perched on hard wood for the third time in less than an hour, but she refused to give up.
Part of being an O'Kane was not letting your recreational activities interfere with your duties.
“Want me to get you a pillow, cowgirl?”
The best thing about Ace was how much he cared about people. The worst thing was how much he cared when you didn't want him to. “Good afternoon to you, too.”
Ace made an amused noise. “Good's relative. Rachel woke up starving, ate, puked, and cried because she was still hungry. So Cruz tried to take her over to the hospital in Three, Six yelled at him to stop hassling Rachel and find her some damn food, and Rachel got so upset that Lex kicked us all out.”
Jeni hummed her sympathy and pulled out the stool next to hers. For all his complaining, Ace wore an air of smug satisfaction like a second skin these days. It fit him as casually as his faded jeans, his ink, or the long, dark hair spilling across his forehead. It was a part of him, had been since the day he'd first opened his heart to Rachel and Cruz.
He dropped to the stool and studied her, his gaze sharp and knowing. “I'm not gonna let it go.”
“I figured as much.” Jeni pushed away the bucket of soil and turned to him. “Go ahead.”
Ace tilted his head. “You gonna get snarly if I ask to see how bad it is?”
Christ, things really were dire—he wasn't even flirting with her. “Relax. It's no worse than some of your handiwork.”
“Not exactly the same, darling. I know what I'm doing.”
There was no quick retort to that, no snappy rejoinder. The truth of his words was a constant weight on Jeni's shoulders—not because Hawk was new to the delicate dance of dominance and submission, or to the even more delicate interplay between sadism and masochism. But because she'd known he was new...and still agreed to accept his collar.
It was reckless. No, it was something beyond reckless. It wasn't safe, to put herself completely in the hands of someone who didn't know how to handle that responsibility. It wasn't a failing of his, just reality. He didn't know better, but she did.
Hawk would never hurt her, not on purpose. But it was tragically easy to go too far without even realizing it.
“We're being careful,” she said finally. “Going slow until he gets his bearings.”
“Good,” Ace drawled. “Because if he fucks up, which one of us is gonna stop Cruz from taking him out back and breaking a bunch of his bones? Or maybe we should just let him, because that'll be a slap on the wrist compared to Dallas and Lex coming down on him.”
The mental image of that beatdown came all too readily, and Jeni scrubbed her forearm over her eyes to banish it. “No one's more worried about Hawk fucking up than Hawk, okay?”
Ace sighed and tossed an arm around her shoulders. “I know, Jeni. Christ, if I wasn't sure that was true, I'd be beating his ass down. That's why you gotta do this shit right.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“I suggest thinking like an O'Kane.”
Which meant asking for help. “Ace, darling? You may have forgotten—what with your blinding, happily-ever-after kind of threesome—but I've fucked most of the people Hawk could talk to about this. That could get awkward.”
“Maybe.” Ace kissed her temple. “Or maybe you're underestimating him. Six isn't a fan of anyone getting their hands near Bren, but she wasn't going to learn how to give him what he likes spontaneously. Besides, you never know what's hiding under the hood with some of these tightly wound motherfuckers. Trust me.”
He loved to brag about how much Cruz had loosened up. “Uh-huh. You still owe me for that one, by the way.”
“I know. And trust me, cowgirl, if Rachel wasn't puking and Cruz wasn't ready to stab anyone who gets too close to her, she would have already invited you both over for dinner and some light flogging.”
But she was, and he was, so that left them out. And Dallas and Lex weren't even an option. “Jas and Noelle?”
“Now that has potential.” Ace tilted her face up. “And if it doesn't work out and you need me, it doesn't have to be a party. I can be there for you like I was there for Bren and Six. To show him how it works, and to make sure you're both safe. Rachel and Cruz understand.”
“Thanks, Ace.” She hesitated, then forged ahead. “I know I probably shouldn't have taken the collar. But things are so crazy now, and Hawk…” Her voice failed her. She swallowed hard and tried again. “It just felt like the right thing to do.”
“Hey, hey now.” Ace slid off the stool and tugged her into his arms. His hand smoothed over her back. “I know, Jeni. I know. The world's fucking upside down. But we're gonna put it right again, because that's what Dallas does. And I want you to come out the other side whole and happy. That's all.”
“I will.” She would. Somehow.
Hawk had been braced for a private summons from the leaders of Four from the moment he'd rolled back into the sector with Jeni wearing his collar.
When he closed the door and turned to face a table covered with maps of Sector Six, he knew this meeting was something else.
Something worse.
Dallas nodded, acknowledging his realization, then pointed at the chair next to Lex. “No one wants to have this talk, but it's too important not to have.”
Hawk sank into the chair and studied the map. He'd helped Ace with the details, penciling in the individual farms and distances based on a decade of driving between them to deliver smuggled goods and stimulants. They sprawled out to the west of the city, following the line of the reservoir and the river beyond. Miles and miles, creeping out more every year as Eden's demands heightened and eldest sons drove past the borders of the farthest farms to try and reclaim more of the desert. To squeeze a living from the land as much as to satisfy Eden's hunger for too much.
“I talked to Shipp.” Hawk traced his finger over the cluster of buildings that represented his family's farm. “They're used to keeping in touch with the other farms via radio, but he knows the first thing Eden will do is take out the towers.”
“We were ready to offer them tech,” Lex murmured, “but I'm guessing they found a better early-warning system all on their own.”
“Rocket flares,” Hawk confirmed. “They go up loud, burn bright, and drift down on little parachutes. Everyone who sees them will fire their own, which should spread the message fast.”
Lex leaned forward. “Will they be able to do it?”
And there it was, the crux of the issue. No more evasion, no more pretending they were talking about a fight to defend the land or a simple, orderly retreat.
They were talking about burning his home sector to the ground.
Hawk leaned across the table and picked up a marker. “Shipp will g
et it done,” he said, circling their farm in red ink. Old man Anderson was hit-or-miss, but once Alya's fields went up in flames, it would be impossible to stop the spread. He skipped over that one and circled all the farms he knew Shipp could sway, the men who had been angry enough to put down their tools and face starvation if Eden kept taking everything from them.
When he was finished, twenty-nine circles covered the piece of paper, scattered from the border with Seven all the way down to the edge of Five, from the farms closest to the wall out to the very edge of the territory. “Some of the others might, but these are the ones I'm sure of. Just over half.”
Dallas studied the map before tracing his finger over one of the blank spaces between circles. “Will it spread?”
It probably would have on its own, but Shipp wasn't taking any chances. “They're distributing accelerant with the flares. It'll burn fast and hard, and Eden isn't equipped to stop it.”
Lex studied him, then sighed. “Are you all right?”
He couldn't answer her question without thinking about what those red circles really meant, and that hurt too fucking much. The practicalities of war were easier. “If Jyoti has the communes and illegal farms under control, this is the only option. We don't need Six, but Eden does.”
“Hawk.”
He ignored her and stared at Dallas. “Does my family have a place here?”
“Yes,” Dallas said without hesitation. “Finn's already organizing the new recruits to expand your sisters' setup.”
“Then I'm all right.”
Dallas leaned back in his chair, one eyebrow raised. “That's nice, but I'm not the one who asked.”
Hawk didn't want to look at Lex. Dallas was casually ruthless, cold enough to keep this safely impersonal. Lex's ruthlessness ran hot, her passion so tied up in protection that she seemed a hundred times more dangerous.
And she reminded him of his mother. “It's gonna break her, Lex. Shipp's gonna have to torch the place and drag Alya away and it's gonna break her fucking heart.”