Chapter Seven
Jarrett
I know she’s trouble; she’s always trouble. If I had any lick of sense in my skull, I’d just take my bike back and leave her to rot in whatever mess she’s found herself in. But then, where’s the fun in that?
One look at her in that parking lot, one glimpse of the way the dim light seems to highlight every one of her seductively sweet curves — the way the moonlight makes the sweat in her cleavage shimmer, the way her hazel eyes shine with starlight, the way her smoky voice courses with sinful suggestion — and I know exactly what I’m going to do. I have no other choice. I’m just a man, after all, and Selena, for all her faults, strokes my inner desires in ways I can’t ignore.
“You coming?”
She smiles. It’s a jagged, sharp smile that struts the line between vicious and sexual. I’m taken back to the time we spent together in Reno before things went to hell. Late nights spent fucking and drinking, days spent plotting and figuring out exactly how we’d screw over the club that’d taken her, how we’d get revenge for her dead brother.
For all the chaos of those days, it was the most peaceful time of my life — it was the first time in years that I slept easy, and the first time in a long while that I’d smiled and meant it.
She’s wrong for me in every way and, even though I want her riding my cock until we both pass out, I know enough not to turn my back on her.
I’ll fuck her, but I won’t be fucked by her.
She’s always up to something and, until I figure that out, I’ll have to keep an eye on her.
“Let me get my things,” she says.
There’s a second while she’s gone — when she darts back into her shitty motel room to get her bag — that I’m alone with my thoughts. Doubt creeps in.
I know I’m starting down a road that might lead me somewhere deeply messed up.
But I’m not exactly thinking with my head right now.
The way she wraps her legs around me as she slides up on the bike, the way she rests her smooth cheek against my back, the way her hands slide around me and then run down my abs to rest just above my cock, tells me that she’s going to be just the distraction I need.
I’m still sore over Gunney’s assignment, but at least now I’ll have someone to fuck my frustrations out on. Selena can take all I’ve got and beg for more.
As long as I can keep out of her bullshit and keep what happens between us strictly to me giving her somewhere to stay and getting myself a piece of ass when I need it, I’ll be fine.
That’s all this is. That’s all it’s ever going to be.
My bike hums between my legs and I take the forest roads outside of Stony Shores. I can’t get home soon enough. Even if it’s just to set her in her place and tell her to sleep on the couch.
We scream around corners, the wind whipping at my face. I press the accelerator more than I should, just to feel Selena’s legs clamp tighter against me and her hands grip me harder. The feel of her tits against my back has my heart racing and my cock rigid in my pants.
She feels it, and when we hit the straightaway, she strokes it through my jeans. It’s been too long, and the feel of her hand on my cock is enough to make me moan.
“Slow it down, Jarrett,” she says, right into my ear over the noise of the road. “Take your time, let me draw this out, so we can savor the ride together.”
I ease up on the gas. We slow down to the speed limit.
She unzips my fly. Undoes the buttons on my jeans.
Delicate fingers wrap themselves around my cock. Teeth tease my earlobe. Hot breath hits my cheek.
“I know you hate me,” she whispers. “I think it’s only fair I make it up to you.”
She squeezes and strokes my shaft.
Ten miles to go.
I grit my teeth and squeeze the breaks. I have to focus on the road. But it’s pointless — I can hardly see straight while she’s stroking me off. I’m rock hard in her hands, my cock pulsing and precum running in rivulets down my shaft.
“Hold the fuck up,” I shout over my roaring engine.
“You sure?” she says, giving me another slow, groan-inducing stroke. “I owe you so much. Let me show you my gratitude.”
I’m in too deep to stop now.
And I aim to get much deeper before this is over.
I pull to the side of the road and I can feel the vibrations of her chuckle against the back of my neck. She gives my dick a perfect, spine-tingling squeeze and hops off the bike. Her hips jut tantalizingly out to her side as she smirks at me.
“Right here?”
“Right here.”
“Where everyone can see?”
“Where everyone can see.”
“Since I owe you, I guess I’m all yours.”
I’m right behind her.
That ass is calling out to me. Curvy. Luscious.
Fuck, the need to be inside her is eating me up.
Roadside, in plain view, I toss my helmet aside and crush my lips to hers. I force my tongue into her eager mouth. She tastes like bourbon and smells like strawberries.
“Fucking right you owe me,” I growl.
“Then take what’s yours,” she says, left hand reaching behind her to take hold of my cock. “After everything you’ve done for me, you can have anything you want.”
I see red. She says it like it’s nothing. Like she didn’t leave me with a bullet wound, sitting in a hospital bed, while she bought her freedom and took off. That’s not how you treat the man who saved your fucking life. That’s not how you treat the man — the only man — who actually gives a damn about you and your son.
It’s time to teach her a lesson.
I grab her tank top and rip it off her, tossing the tattered pieces to the dirt. Her bra follows. My shirt and jeans land next to hers on the ground.
“On your knees,” I growl.
“Whatever you say.”
She’s on the ground in an eager second. Cherry-red lips kissing my cock in supplication. Her lips, her hands, her tongue working together in the way that puts all other women to shame.
Nothing comes close to making me feel the way her mouth does. Except for that tight cunt of hers and her nice, plump ass.
“Is this what you want?” she whispers up at me, hazel eyes shining moonlight back at me. “You want me kneeling in the dirt? You want me to beg you to fill my mouth?”
Her lips run in kisses up my shaft. Her tongue twirls around the tip, stroking the underside and making me feel so good my ass clenches and my body shakes. Gentle fingertips caress my balls, coaxing them to unload. This moan — slow, low, hungry — echoes from her throat.
She wants it. Now. Every drop I’ve got.
“No, you’re not getting off that easy,” I growl.
She pulls back. Smiles at me. “Promise?”
Those curves of hers are begging for me to conquer them.
Her impudent smile and husky chuckle are begging to be turned into a wide-mouthed orgasmic scream.
I haul her to her feet. In one pull, her red-thong panties and jeans are around her ankles. With one hand on her back and the other knotted in her blonde hair, I push her forward against my bike.
Both hands bracing on my bike, she’s ready for me.
“Go ahead. Fuck me. Fuck me like you own me,” she growls at me over her shoulder.
But fuck, she looks so good.
And it’s been so long since I’ve had a taste.
I get down on my knees and kiss up the back of her thighs. My tongue darts between her legs, grazing against her labia. Heaven. Sweet, intoxicating heaven.
I go deeper.
“Fucking Christ, warn a girl, will you?” she says, knees buckling as my tongue brushes against her clit.
I laugh, shift position, getting in deep, and I suck one of the lips of her pussy between my lips. Succulent as sin, dripping wet, and the moan that bursts from her lips is the kind of ragged, animalistic gasp that makes my cock throb.
My tongue wanders, and I can’t suppress a growl. I could do this all night.
I shift a little, running my tongue along the rim of her ass. She moans and pounds her hands against the seat of my bike.
“Turn around,” I say. “I want to look up at your tits while I lick your pussy.”
I pull back and she spins to face me, bracing her back against my bike. I get back where I want to be. Between her legs, lips against her pussy, caressing her labia with my tongue and relishing the sensation of her nails digging into my shoulders.
“You son of a bitch,” she moans. “You fucking son of a bitch, I’m going to come.”
“Of course you are — it’s what I want.”
Nails dig deeper, thighs clamp against my cheeks.
“Put your finger inside me. Two fingers,” she gasps.
I’m already ahead of her. I slip them into her wet pussy and crook them just right. They brush her exactly where she wants and she nearly screams in pleasure.
It’s sweet music to my ears.
I toy with her as she comes back down, using a quick flicker of my tongue to make her shake and spasm.
Panting, chest rising and falling with exertion and beading with sweat, she glares at me while I stand up.
“You were supposed to fuck me, not wreck me,” she says.
I laugh. “I’m not done yet. I want more.”
My cock is aching to feel the tight embrace of her pussy. I step between her legs. She glares at me, but she doesn’t fight it as I lift one of her legs up, crooking it under my arm, and I slide inside.
A shuddering breath bursts her luscious lips.
“Everything feels just… electric. God damn, slow down, I can’t take it,” she moans. Quick as a snake, she pulls me closer and bites me on the shoulder and her nails dig into my back.
I don’t slow down.
I want her to feel it.
I fuck her with every bit of anger and frustration inside me. I fuck her because I know she can take it. However fucked I am, she’s just as fucked up. We live to ruin each other.
Her body shakes with every thrust.
She screams.
Nails draw blood down my back.
“You fucking bastard,” she spits. “Is that all you got?”
She slaps me.
I pull out. I take her by her hair and whip her around until she’s bent over my bike. My cock buries itself in her until the smooth, round curves of her fat ass are pressed against my hips.
She’s tight, she’s wet, she’s my own fucked up heaven.
“Is this what you want?” she says, her voice this ragged, plaintive thing.
The knuckles in her hands go white as she grips onto the bike for dear life. The only sound in the dark night is her moans and the sound of our two bodies coming together in anger and unquenchable lust.
“Shut up,” I growl and fuck her deep enough that whatever the hell she was going to say turns into this hushed whimper.
She looks back at me over her shoulder and smiles.
“I love it when you’re angry. Fuck me harder.”
I grab her hair again and pull her head back. I know she’s trying to get in my head, but this isn’t anything more than a fuck. The only hold she’s going to have over me is when her pussy clamps around my cock. That’s it.
I press my hips into her ass, letting the come that’s boiling inside me release into the tight, wet embrace of her pussy. She moans the second she feels it and brings her thighs together tight, cinching her grip on my cock.
I shut my eyes.
My heart is surging in my chest like a runaway train and everything I have is emptying into her.
I come down to earth after what feels like ages.
And I see her crooked grin shining back at me.
“I love it when you’re angry. We should hate-fuck more often,” she says.
Shaking my head to clear the cobwebs, I point to her clothes. “Get dressed. Let’s go.”
“What? No cuddling? No enjoying the afterglow?”
“Fuck that. You have thirty seconds or I’m leaving you,” I say, already pulling on my jeans.
I start an audible count. Sharp, hard numbers with the same malicious intent that would make every one of my old drill sergeants proud.
She makes it with two seconds to spare.
It makes me smile to see her legs wobble as she moves around. No matter how tough she acts, she’s feeling it. And she’ll feel it again before I’m done with her.
I start the bike to life and we roar down the road. Miles go by in a blink and we scream to a stop in the driveway of my beat-up bungalow, gravel and dust kicking up everywhere as my wheels chew up the earth.
I don’t pause to help her off the bike I don’t offer her a hand. I motion for her to follow me to the house. She grabs her things and jogs to catch up to me.
“Thank you,” she mumbles as I grab the duffel bag from her.
I grunt in reply.
I open the door and lead her inside.
“There’s the bathroom,” I say, pointing across my small living room to the first door down the hallway leading to my bedroom. “Kitchen’s over there, and there’s a closet further down the hallway where you can unload your things.”
“And where’s the bedroom?” she says, resting her hand on my shoulder.
I look down at her hand, then toss her duffel bag onto my ripped leather sofa. “Your bed’s right there. Good night.”
There’s a look of surprise on her face. She might even say something. But I don’t hear it. I head down the hallway and slam the door to my bedroom behind me.
Fucking her might’ve calmed me down and soothed my raw nerves from Gunney’s bullshit assignment, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting her sleep with me.
This is just sex. And that’s all it will ever be.