All the way back to Jessie’s little cottage on the outside of town, Tex argued with himself. To tell her the whole scheme, or to hide it from her? To trust her with the plan he’d cooked up with Eddie, or let her stay innocent. Let her stay safe. He had to believe there could be an end to the madness that had plagued him since he was a teenager, and his best friend in the world had been killed. He had to believe that there was a life after this for him. Without that, what the fuck was the point?

 

Jessie’s hands were tight on his belly, molding herself to his body on the back of his bike like a second skin. He loved it. He loved her. Thank God she hadn’t noticed when he’d slipped up and whispered those words while she was wrapping herself around his erect cock. That would have been awkward. He’d been carrying a torch forever, but he’d definitely understood that her own feelings towards him were much more ambivalent. And with good reason. He’d disappeared out of her life, and in some ways, he was the only person who might have understood what she was going through. And there had been no excuse. He could have kept in touch with her. He just hadn’t.

 

So the obvious solution was to make it up to her now. But how? Bring her in or keep her out?

 

He couldn’t think when all the blood that was running through his brain was pounding in his cock. It was a good thing she only lived a short drive from Castello’s sad excuse for a downtown. He’d come like a volcano just a half hour ago, and he was ready to go all over again. Only this time, it wouldn’t be his hand and his t-shirt that caught his spill.

 

He’d kept things pretty tame with Jessie so far. They’d had a lot of delicate sex in bed. It had alternated between incredibly passionate and incredibly loving, but it had been really…well, Hollywood. Rolling around in the covers, candles, shit like that. Which was great, a lot of the time, and God knew he’d been spanking himself to romantic fantasies of her since he was a kid—his all-time favorite involved a bubble bath—but that wasn’t all there was to sex. Not for him.

 

He wasn’t sure if Jessie could keep up with that side of him. He wanted to find out, now. If she couldn’t, that was fine, he’d figure out another way to get that release, but right now, he wanted more.

 

He parked the bike behind her house. He wasn’t riding his custom; he’d actually left it down in Los Angeles with the main body of the club. Much like his multi-colored topknot with the shaved sides, it made him too obvious, too easy to distinguish. He didn’t miss the bike all that much, but he missed his hair. When this shit was done, he’d see about growing it back. He could imagine Jessie running her fingers through it, getting a good handhold to grind his face into her pussy. Yeah, that would be good.

 

She dismounted from the bike and then hesitated. Her pupils were wide and she was panting, her chest rising and falling in such tempting ways. “Get inside,” he said.

 

He thought she might scurry, but she lifted an eyebrow, turned slowly on one three inch heel, and sashayed her way in the back door, putting plenty of sway into her hips as she went. How had he lived his adult life without this woman?

 

He followed her, and barely made it in the door before he caught her wrist, spun her around, and pushed her up against the wall. She cried out, the sound half pain and half something much more interested. “Have you ever had a safe word before?”

 

She shook her head, didn’t speak.

 

“What’s your favorite vegetable?”

 

Two fast blinks. She looked like she was trying to get her brain into gear through an urgent need to have someone stroking her body towards climax. He was willing to be that person. “Uh. Broccoli.”

 

“Okay. You say broccoli, I stop what I’m doing. We talk. We talk about stop entirely, or go no further, or change some detail, or whatever, okay?”

 

“Yes.” She was so glazed.

 

He wouldn’t push her hard this time. They’d have a more intense conversation about how things felt, what she liked. After he’d given her a taste. “Good. I’m glad you understand. I like it when you’re a good little bitch.” He caught both her narrow wrists in one hand and pushed them up above her head. Her eyes flared with anger at the curse, but she didn’t stop him. “You don’t like being called a bitch, do you?”

 

“No,” she said.

 

“But you’re my bitch, aren’t you?” With his free hand, he traced a firm line down her neck to her breast and her nipple, so hard he worried it might slice through the fabric of her shirt.

 

She didn’t say anything, but her eyes were half closed, her body arching into his hand. He flicked the nipple hard with his thumb and forefinger, and she gasped. Even through her blouse and the flimsy little stretchy lace bras she loved, it had to hurt a little.

 

“I asked you a question.”

 

He could see her pulling herself together. “What—” she cleared her throat. “What does it mean, if I’m your—bitch.” She didn’t like the word, and stumbled over it, but there was something in the way it twisted up in her mouth. The dirty talk was winding her up, making her hot. He’d thought that might be a way to make her burn.

 

“It means I give you what you want.” He flicked her nipple again, and this time she gasped, her hips thrusting up at the empty air. “But only when you’ve earned it.” He leaned down and bit her nipple through the cloth. She cried out, going wild against his pinning hands. Jesus, he loved this. He loved how she was aching and arching and twisting, but not actually trying to get away. He loved how fierce he could be with all that cloth in the way. Give her the feeling of being so very naughty without actually causing her any pain.

 

And suddenly, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. He’d brought a few different things over to the house along with his spare shirts and jeans. He hadn’t meant to move in, he’d meant to keep going back to Polanco’s to sleep, but she was so hot first thing in the morning, and the opportunity to screw her in the shower was so tempting. The guys all snickered behind their hands and made jokes about him being domesticated, but no one actually cared.

 

“Stay here,” he said. “Exactly like this.”

 

“Even my arms?”

 

“Even them.”

 

Her eyes looked a little confused, but she nodded. And then he realized the perfect amendment.

 

“Unless, of course, you want to touch yourself.” Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply. “But you have to stay standing.”

 

It would be interesting, he thought as he walked away, to see which she chose. Stay there, tormented and uncomfortable, or stroke herself in an unfamiliar position.

 

He went to the bedroom, collected the things he needed out of the drawer that Jessie had cleared for him, and stripped. Naked, he walked back to where she was waiting for him.

 

She was still leaning up against the wall, and she looked like a fallen angel, her skirt hiked up to her waist, her fingers buried in her pussy, frustrated little whimpers coming from her throat as she struggled to stay on her feet and find the right spot to fuck.

 

“You are a pretty picture,” he said, and she looked up at him, her eyes glazed with frustration and need. He stroked himself almost idly as he walked toward her. Her eyes were locked on his cock, and she probably thought that was what she was going to get. Fucked up against a wall was definitely fun, but not after a day he’d already spent on his feet. “Know what this is?” he waggled the hand that held a narrow glass toy with a wide flange at the bottom.

 

Her fingers slowed, and she swallowed hard. Her cheeks might have flared red, if she wasn’t already flushed from the sex. “Um. I think that’s a butt plug.”

 

“Yes,” he said. “I’m going to put this in your ass. And then we’re going to see how that feels for you. And then we’re going to see what we do next.” He didn’t ask her if that was okay, but he gave her space to use the word if she wanted to. And he watched her, too. She swallowed hard, and her chest started to heave again. Her fingers were moving faster between the lips of her pussy, and if he kept watching that, he was going to come all over her floor, which was absolutely not the plan.

 

“First,” he said, “I need to open you up a little bit.” He stepped into her, letting his erection bump her hip, and she made a needy little keening noise that shot straight to his balls. “Hands back above your head,” he commanded, and she listened.

 

He thrust two fingers into her pussy, and she was so wide open that there was no resistance, even in this position. When his hand was good and wet with her natural fluids, he drew back, and ran the toy between the lips of her slit, drawing out a low, keening moan as the cold material pressed against her clit.

 

“I’m going to play with your ass,” he said, keeping his voice light, even conversational. “I’m going to go slow, but it’s up to you to tell me if you’re enjoying yourself, or if I’m going too fast, or if you need something else from me. Normally, I’d tell you that I won’t stop until you say the safeword, but for today, I think we’ll ease into it. What do you think?”

 

“Yes,” Jessie murmured, her hips shifting along the glass shaft a little faster, desperate to build up enough friction to find release.

 

“Good,” he said. He pressed in close to her, his bare erection settling against the soft curve of her hip as he reached around with her fingers. The puckered opening of her ass was soft, which surprised him; he wasn’t sure this bit of play would even get off the ground this first time. But when he traced the delicate flesh with his soaked fingers, she groaned and tilted her hips, eagerly reaching for him. “Have you really never let anyone do this before?”

 

She groaned; in that moment, she couldn’t have been more bound if he’d actually had her manacled in place. “No one’s ever wanted to.”

 

“Idiots,” he said. “God, you look amazing.”

 

He moved slowly, ignoring the feverish demands her body was making of him. His finger eased gently past the ring of muscle in her ass, and she froze, her head falling back against the wall as her chest heaved for breath. He thought she might scream, might come right now, but when the lock on her throat faded, all she said was “more.” The word was drawn out of her on tenderhooks, and she was shaking with—the violation, the need, the ecstasy, or all of it wrapped up together.

 

He ran out of control. He took the toy from her lower lips and pressed it into the space where his finger had been. It was narrow, just something small and delicate to start, but she took it all the way, making sounds that were like low screams or high moans or something. She started to slide down the wall, her knees finally giving way, and it was the simplest thing in the world to catch her on the way down. He had half a mind to spear her on his cock, but first he had to slide the condom he’d retrieved from the bedroom into place. When he was seated fully inside of her, one leg wrapped around his waist to give him purchase and balance, she finally opened her eyes.

 

“Fuck me,” she whispered, her voice raspy and raw. “God, now, please, Tex, now, I need to—please -”

 

It was like the orgasm was already there, held back simply by his refusal to move. It took just one shuddering thrust for her to scream, her body jolted with the electricity of it, convulsing around his dick like she was shattering into pieces. She turned her head and bit down harshly on her bicep, and the sight of it turned him inside out, made him fuck her harder. “You like that?” he heard himself murmuring? “You want it so hard it hurts? You want to scratch your nails down my back, to make me bleed?”

 

“Yes,” she hissed, “Fuck, yes, please. More. More, god, more.”

 

He didn’t know what more there was to give her. This woman was everything he’d ever dreamed of, and this orgasm bursting her seams wasn’t ending; every time she started to breathe again, there was another cry, another wash of ecstasy, another desperate plea for more, deeper, harder.

 

In the end, there was only one way he could think of to give her more. He lifted her fully, wrapping her in his arms, and carried her bodily to the couch in her living room. He huffed down onto the cushions, her still in his lap, and caught her face in his. “Take it,” he said. “Anything you need.”

 

Shyness flashed through her eyes for the first time, but it didn’t last; she was too hungry. She sheathed him inside of her, placed her hands on his shoulders, and rode him. Faster, harder than he would have expected, and with a little twist to her hips on the downslide that he needed to remember for next time. He pressed against some deep place inside of her that made her gasp with every caress.

 

Here, he could fill his big hands with her small breasts and pull her forward to sample her nipples, alternating between harsh sucks and healing kisses that drove her body faster. Her cries gained rhythm and pitch, her body working more feverishly to find what it needed, that final release to all of this pleasure. He reached back for the glass toy, finding that her movements had slid it out of her ass just a little, and eased it all the way back in.

 

She burst. She came. She shattered in his arms. Her fingernails dug like claws into his shoulders, angry and harsh, and he didn’t care; the red haze of pain was fine when she was destroying his cock with how tightly she was clenching around it. It was everything he could do to wait her out, to give her that second to come back down to earth before tossing her onto the cushions and slipping between her thighs. He rutted against her; there was no other word for it, it wasn’t even as elegant as fucking her. He moved over her like an animal, driving into her through her aftershocks, her body almost limp against him. Only her wordless encouragement made him feel safe and okay. Her hands traced his chest and his arms without grace but with eagerness, urging him on.

 

He knew what he needed, right now, to finish out this brutal coupling. “Nails,” he grunted. “Neck. Shoulders. Now, please, baby, fuck, right now.”

 

She didn’t hesitate, and she dug her nails in again, not scratching, just giving him fierce hard pressure that threatened to break his skin. Everything inside of his brain whited out with sheer pleasure. Far away, a hoarse male voice was screaming, and a woman was soothing him, telling him it was all right, he was safe, and she’d take care of him.