So arrogant, I want to tell him. So sure it's for you.
It's the truth, though. It's all because of him. He's driving me wild, his thumb circling my clit, his gaze boring into mine … just that, and I'm about to come apart.
Giving in to him again. Giving myself up to his sexy voice and clever hands, his hot kisses and my need for him.
He leans in closer, until I see the different greens in his eyes, and flecks of gold swimming in the iris. "Say it," he murmurs.
"What?"
"I want to hear you say it. Say you want me."
Is he blind? Is he stupid? Can't he see he has me at his mercy? And yet a stubborn part of me refuses to obey.
"Gigi." His thumb stills between my legs, and he bends his head to bite at the side of my neck, jolting me with pinpricks of pain.
Still I say nothing.
He grunts, pulls his hand out of my panties, and yanks down the straps of my bra, down my arms, letting my breasts spill out.
He cups one, massages my nipple with his thumb, the same thumb that was between my legs seconds ago, and the scent of my arousal hits me. I moan, the pain/pleasure of his grip on my breast, on my sensitive nipple, shooting pleasure straight to my pussy.
Bending over, he takes the other nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, and I cry out, a blaze making its way into my core. My hips roll restlessly. I need something.
I need him inside me.
His hot mouth lets go of my aching nipple, and he kisses my mouth, a quick, savage kiss that leaves me breathless.
"I want you," he whispers against my lips, "I want you to want this. To want me."
Not a question, or a demand. There's a break in his voice, a hairline crack, an uncertainty I didn't expect, and it makes me weak. Makes me wish I could tell him how I really feel.
But I don't, and the moment stretches until it snaps.
He draws back. "Fine," he says, still softly, voice still broken. "Let's fuck."
One moment I'm standing there in my underwear and boots, his thumb pressing on my clit, holding me prisoner-and the next I'm pushed down on my knees, in a position that's starting to feel familiar when I'm with Jarett.
It feels wrong-after this foreplay, his request, this rare crack in his defenses, unless I imagined it?-that we seem to be right back where we started.
Where he's using me for his pleasure, and no matter how sexy that is, deep down I'd been hoping … for something else. Something more.
I reach up and unbuckle his belt, unbutton his pants, aroused and too hot, and yet wanting to cry. The backs of my eyes sting, and I have to swallow hard as I kneel there, my breasts bared, my panties soaked.
What am I doing? Why am I doing this to myself?
My vision is blurring, but my hands don't want to stop. They tug on his pants, pulling them down, finding him bare underneath, as expected. I put my hand on his hard-on. My pussy clenches when I wrap my fingers around it, when he grunts low in his throat.
My mouth shouldn't water at the sight, at the thick veins, the size of him. My body shouldn't want him.
Not when dark memories keep welling up, threatening to drown me.
When he tears the foil packet open and hands me the condom, I put it on his cock, roll it down his length, just as I tell myself I should get up.
Get up and go. Fight the haze in my head, this maddening desire.
But his hands close around my forearms, and he pulls me back on my feet. I gasp when his hard cock presses into my stomach, hot and big.
His mouth curls into a crooked smirk, then he lifts one of my legs, boot and all, around his thigh, against his muscular ass, spreading me wide. Until I'm standing on tiptoes and straining, off-balance and at his mercy.
And then he shoves his cock into me.
It's a slow push, and even so it's too big, too much. My body rebels at the intrusion, my legs trying to close, keep him out, but he just lifts my leg higher and pushes deeper, making me cry out.
Oh God. I can't take it, I can't … and as the fear swirls in my mind like a black hole, he sinks deeper, filling me up more and more, until I think I'll split in two.
I'm holding on to him for dear life, trying to breathe through the sensations, to tell myself it's okay, wondering how to tell him to stop when I can't speak-and then he shifts, rocks his hips in a thrust, angling his cock just so, and the world splinters into pleasure.
I splinter.
Or I come back together, I don't know, it just feels so unbelievably good I squirm and pant and roll my hips, trying to feel that twisting bolt of sweet fire again. Dangerously good. He's so deep inside me, deep enough to make my whole body jerk, make me lose control.
He's still now, his large frame tense and muscles straining.
He's holding back, I realize. His gaze is hot on me, on my face, watching me, and his powerful chest is rising and falling as if he's been running.
"You okay?" he asks softly, and with his next breath, his cock slides a bit deeper, then out, and we both gasp.
"Please," I whisper. "Rett, please."
"Yeah," he whispers back, "that's it," and I should want to punch in his handsome face, but my body is on a verge of something huge, pleasure unlike any it's ever felt, and it holds the reins.
"Fuck me." I swallow hard. "Hard."
His eyes go heavy-lidded. "You got it."
He steadies himself with his hand on the wall, biceps bulging, while he keeps the other on my leg that's wrapped around him, and thrusts.
"Oh God … " I can't recognize my voice. It's broken, choked. It doesn't sound like my voice at all. "Oh shit."
He thrusts again, a grunt leaving his lips, his hips snapping, thrusting harder, faster.
Every little movement, every breath and every word makes his thick cock swell bigger inside me. It rubs on every nerve ending I possess, ratcheting up the need, higher and higher until I think I'll go crazy.
"Rett … "
"You never called." He hisses as he pumps into me, smashing my thoughts. "I gave you my fucking number, and you didn't fucking call."
What is he talking about? "You're in a gang." I sob for breath, my pussy clenching around his hard-on. "A frigging gang that robs stores."
"That's not for me, dammit. I had to … "
"Had to what?"
"Fuck this." He slams me against the wall and fucks me so hard he bottoms out, his balls pressed to my ass, and it's a fine line between pain and pleasure as I teeter on the brink to the most powerful orgasm of my life. "Damn, girl … "
He's fucking me, and I'm riding his cock, my arms around his neck, my back pressed to the wall, and it's my undoing.
His roughness, his insistence, his skill … his unexpected gentleness when needed.
Always unexpected.
"Jarett!" I press my mouth to his muscular shoulder, bite softly into the thick muscle as my core spasms, and I come, waves of pleasure rolling through me, my heart drumming in my chest.
He groans, his rhythm faltering, his thrusts growing frantic and shallow, and he grinds me against the wall, burying his face in my neck and I think he whispers my name.
It sounds like my name.
Over and over again, like a prayer.
But after a while, when his breathing calms down, he straightens and pulls out of me and says …
He says, "Go."
And for some reason, the finality in his voice breaks my heart.
Chapter Eighteen
Jarett
She's warm, and soft, and I wanna stay inside her forever. I could ignore the world, ignore what she thinks of me, just for a while longer. Bury my face in her sweet-smelling hair, feel her curves pressed to my bare skin, and believe I can keep her.
That she'll keep me.
But that's a pipe dream, always was, and always will. Nobody wants to keep someone like me. When the hell will I learn? Plus, she doesn't really want to be here. She thinks she's paying me back for something I'd have given anyway, that it's a fee for protecting her and those she loves when I'm helpless when it comes to her.
Yeah, she has no clue, but what chance do I have when in her eyes I'm a criminal she doesn't want to associate with?
And even worse, she's right.
Still, pulling out of her is hard. Telling her to go even harder. It's the best, though, for her. I repeat that to myself when her eyes lose that softness she gets after coming, when that faint glow of pleasure in her expression fades.
I tug off the condom, tie it off and throw it to the floor to pick up later. As I come down from the high of fucking her, holding her, pretending I belong with her, my bad knee starts to ache, and man, I need a drink and a smoke.
Only I can't stop staring at her, all gleaming pale skin and round tits, her taut rosy nipples and the perfect triangle of her shaved pussy, then those badass black boots. I look up, and I'm caught in her fiery blue eyes.
They narrow at me.
"You're a real piece of work," she spits out, and bends over to gather her clothes. "Asshole."
I eye my pants around my ankles and the thought of bending that knee to pull them up makes me wince. Gritting my teeth, I manage to bend down just enough to snag the waistband and drag them up my legs.