Chapter Seven

Hawk had tired muscles, an empty stomach, and dripping-wet hair when someone knocked gently on his door.

The hair was easy to fix. He rubbed a towel roughly over his head as he walked to the door, unable to stop the anticipation stealing through him. By the time he reached for the doorknob he didn't give a shit about his aching back or nagging hunger.

Jeni was on the other side of that door. Weeks of planning ended here, in this moment, where months' worth of guilty fantasies had started.

Jeni, in his room. Jeni, in his bed.

Jeni, his.

He hauled the door open, and anticipation melted into slow, lazy satisfaction as she looked him up and down and swallowed hard, her fingers tightening on the basket in her hands.

After a suspended moment long enough to stretch into delicious tension, she held up the basket. “You missed dinner.”

“I did.” He took a step back and waved her in. “Dallas had us crawling through the tunnels all day. I needed a shower.”

“Mmm.” She brushed past him. “And you still look good wet. It's not fair.”

Few things in life had ever sounded as good as the soft click of the door closing. It was just the two of them now—no teasing friends, no nosy family. He turned and watched her size up his room, suddenly conscious of how stark it must look. Plain, utilitarian furniture crowded one side, while a gun rack and punching bag took up the other.

Not exactly the cozy, luxurious love nest she was probably used to.

She set the basket on the table and waved a hand to indicate the room. “It's bigger than mine.”

That was the sole benefit to the new third-floor rooms. The downsides were ugly cement walls, bare lightbulbs, and cramped bathrooms tacked on when they'd hastily started expanding. For the first time, Hawk wished he'd held out for one of the nicer rooms instead of passing it off to newer arrivals. “Yeah. I've been meaning to fix it up a little, but…”

“You've been busy.” Her brow furrowed. “Hawk, I don't care what your room looks like. I'm a little shallow, but not that bad.”

“I don't think you're shallow.” He crossed the room and brushed one knuckle over the medallion at her throat. “I just want you to feel comfortable here.”

She slipped her hand into his. “Then stop looking at me like you think I might leave.”

Her fingers were delicate and soft, cool against his skin. He tugged them up and kissed them. “If you left, I'd find a way to lure you back.”

Her pulse thumped a little faster. “Dinner.”

The tiny hitch in her breath had him ready to say fuck dinner and hoist her onto the table, but the basket was big enough to hold food for both of them, which probably meant she hadn't eaten, either. So he pressed a final kiss to her palm and pulled out a chair. “Have a seat.”

Jeni did so, then smothered a laugh when the first thing he retrieved from the basket was a cluster of candles tied up with a red ribbon. “Someone in the kitchen is either very practical or very impractical. And a hopeless romantic.”

The single sad light hanging from his ceiling already left most of the room in shadow. And since the power required to keep the Broken Circle and the stills running tended to monopolize the generators more nights than not, candles were plenty practical. But after he passed Jeni his lighter and she lit the first few, he adjusted his assessment.

Solar-powered lanterns were practical. Candlelight was magic.

“Maybe we should turn the light off anyway,” he murmured, watching her skin take on a golden sheen from the flickering light. “Since the breaker usually pops after dinner.”

“Good thinking.” She rose, reached for the switch along the far wall—which was usually damn inconvenient but perfect right about now—and flipped it off. “Be straight with me. Tell me what's really churning behind those eyes of yours.”

That was the only way it could be now. He'd learned enough from watching the O'Kanes to know that as unassailable fact—any fantasy could come true, but only if you were willing to say it out loud.

He edged his chair back from the table and held out a hand. “Come here.”

Jeni slid onto his lap, her face mere inches from his, shadowed by candlelight. “Talk to me,” she whispered.

Hawk settled his hands on the gentle curves of her hips and let out a soft breath. “It's still hard sometimes. These are urges I've fought against my whole damn life. Things I thought were fucked up and wrong, proof that I'm just as twisted as my old man was. I didn't even have words for this stuff before I came here, because you don't talk about this shit on the farms. Hell, I don't know if anyone talks about this shit.”

“I do,” she offered quietly.

“O'Kanes do,” he replied just as softly. And, because it was the truth, he closed his eyes. “That first night, up on the bluff… You said no. And all I could think about was turning you over my knee and…”

His voice roughened as he remembered the only time he'd seen Lex spank Jeni at a party—right before Jasper warned him to stop watching so closely. He could still remember her moans, her squirms, the way her skin had turned so delightfully, hypnotically red.

Her fingers brushed his cheekbone. “And?”

He slid his hands lower, until he could cup her ass. They were just words, words she wanted to hear, but they had to fight their way past a lifetime of inhibitions and came out as a growl. “I wanted to spank you until you were so turned on you begged me to get you off.”

“Then we need a safe word.” Her fingertips trailed down the side of his neck. “A way for me to say no or stop so you'll understand I mean it, and it's not just part of the fun.”

The idea of fun including the word no evoked its own uncomfortable tangle of guilt and fascination—especially when he imagined the pleasure he could take in watching her pant and writhe, in listening to her pleas for mercy. Mercy he could grant...or withhold.

Twisted, but maybe not wrong. Not if they did it like this, where he could be sure he was giving her exactly what she wanted. “What's the word?”

She paused, licked her lips. “Strawberry.”

“Strawberry,” he echoed. He tightened his fingers, savored the softness of her flesh under his grip. Fabric still separated them, but it wouldn't soon. Knowing he was so close gave him the patience to ask the questions that mattered, the ones that would make it good. “Tell me how you like it.”

“Hard,” she answered immediately. “And rough—I like it when it hurts. Does that shock you?”

“Maybe at first,” he admitted. “But I've been here a while, Jeni. I see Bren in the cage and Noelle at the parties. I see all the ways people fit together. You like pain. I want to be the one who gives it to you.”

“Don't forget this.” She ran the tip of one finger between his eyebrows, smoothing the furrow he hadn't even realized was there. “I want this intensity, too. All over me.”

He could give her that. He'd give her every goddamn thing she wanted, anything she'd ever dreamed of. But he'd start here, with something a little bit selfish—something he wanted, too. “Then stand up.”

She held his gaze as she slipped off his lap and stood in front of him. Simple, sweet obedience.

His heart beat faster. “Take off your clothes.”

Her shirt went first, falling away slowly, one button at a time. When it hit the floor, she reached for her jeans, undoing them with the same careful attention, each movement an individual answer to his command.

She stepped free of the denim and her shoes at the same time and kicked both away, then paused in her underwear, as if knowing he'd want a moment to admire her.

There was plenty to admire. The white lace was teasingly innocent but so transparent he could see the darker tips of her nipples through the sheer fabric. A tiny black bow between her breasts matched the one perched beneath her belly button. Her lips curved gently upward as she reveled in his appreciation.

She was beautiful, but he'd had his fill of confining himself to simply looking at her. “All of it, Jeni.”

She eased one strap off her shoulder, letting it slink down her arm as she reached back and opened the clasp. The fabric clung to her breasts, and she peeled it away before dropping her hands to her panties.

She stopped there, her thumbs hooked under the satin, and stared at him.

They were back in the woods again, her quiet defiance a crackle of electricity between them. A game, only this time they'd discussed the rules in advance.

This time, he could play it. “Last chance, Jeni. Take them off, or I'll do it for you.”

Her breath caught, jagged and loud in the quiet darkness, and she dropped her hands to her sides.

Little lacy panties were probably expensive as fuck in the sectors. That was the only thing that kept him from tangling his fist in the fabric and tearing it from her body. Instead, he caught her around the waist and dragged her to him.

He snapped his legs shut, pinning her between them, and rubbed his thumb across that little black bow. “This is what you wanted that night up on the hill, isn't it?”

“Always.” Her hand clenched on his forearm, testing the tiny flex of muscle every time his thumb moved. “Show me how much you need me. How you'll take it if you have to.”

That was what she wanted, to be taken, hard and rough. It gave him perverse pleasure to do the opposite, to tease his fingers across her belly and edge her panties down with the softest of touches. “I'll take you when I'm ready.”

“Will you?”

A gentle challenge, but he refused to rise to it. He skimmed her underwear lower, until he had to shift his legs to let it fall to the floor. Before she could move, he trapped her again. “You'll see, won't you?”

“I guess so.” Her hand drifted up, over his shoulder to his damp hair. “I missed you today.”

“Yeah?” Her breasts were temptingly close. All he had to do was lean forward, and his lips grazed one tight point. “Thinking about you got me through it.”

“The tunnels?”

“Mmm.” He traced his tongue around her nipple, then drew it in his mouth and sucked hard enough to arch her back and elicit a whimper. “There. That's what kept me going.”

Jeni bent her head to his. “It had to be more.”

He hid his smile against her skin as he trailed his fingers down her back and across her hips. “No, it was mostly the noises you make. The noises I make you make.”

She laughed softly, her breath stirring his hair. “I like being a little silly with you.”

He liked it, too. Not just the laughter, but the trust. Nothing left you more vulnerable in the sectors, more utterly exposed, than joy. All your weaknesses on display, your heart naked and begging to be shattered.

He rewarded her courage with another slow brush of his lips over her wet nipple. “Be silly with me. Be Jeni with me.”

Her amusement faded as she gazed down at him and touched his face. “I've never been anything else. Not with you.”

“I know.” He tightened his grip on her hips and eased her back a step. “Sweet, beautiful Jeni. Give me what I want, and I'll give you what you need.”

She regarded him for a moment, her eyes burning with anticipation, then nodded quickly—and he knew this was one time she wouldn't fight him, wouldn't make him push.

Instead, she stretched out across his lap. She lifted her bare feet, crossed at the ankles, and braced herself on his leg and the edge of the chair, precariously balanced—but perfectly arranged for whatever wicked things he might care to do to her.

His heart thumping, Hawk smoothed his hand along her spine and down, tickling her legs. She shivered under his touch, so eager for what came next. The power of the moment swelled inside him as he gently repositioned her, tugged her closer, and braced an arm across her back to hold her in place.

She wanted this, needed it, and yet she was probably still wondering if he had it in him. If the slow stroke of his fingers or the tenderness as he squeezed her ass meant he couldn't be rough, couldn't be mean in all the ways she wanted him to be.

He was meaner. Mean enough to get off on making her wait for it.

And that was an uncomfortable enough thought to prompt action. He caressed her one last time before raising his hand and bringing it down in a gentle slap. Not hard, just enough to sting, but the sound cracked through the room, and Jeni jerked in his grasp.

He repeated it on the other side, savoring the sound and her reaction. “Here's what we're going to do.” He rubbed her pale skin, though it held only the slightest hints of pink—so far. “After each time, you can say harder, please or thank you. Do you understand?”

She squirmed on his lap. “Yes, sir.”

Sir. A word for commanders. For leaders. A word that screamed power, and it fell from her lips like a prayer. He was already so fucking turned on that her squirming would be a special sort of torture, but it was nothing compared to how hot it was to bring his hand down again and have her release the breath she was holding on a sharp exhalation.

“Harder,” she gasped. “Harder, please.”

He tightened his arm around her, holding her more firmly in place, and let his hand fall again. Color rose where he struck her, bright pink that he knew would deepen to red, and he craved it with a guilt she banished every time she begged for him to hit her harder.

She needed it. It couldn't be wrong if she needed it.

Everything outside the flickering circle of candlelight slipped away. There was only Jeni, her body responding to his touch as if he'd been made for this, to hold her tight and hurt her just the way she wanted. His blows came harder and her pleas broke on ragged sobs, but when he slid his hand down to her thighs, they were wet with her arousal, and every time he struck her, she said the same thing.

Harder, please.

The words came farther and farther apart, punctuated by tremors that shook her whole body. Her head fell forward, baring the back of her neck as her hair cascaded down. She was tense but somehow also limp, trembling, when the pleas stopped altogether.

“Jeni?” When she only whimpered, Hawk scooped her upright on his lap and snuggled her against his chest. Her head tipped back on his arm, revealing dazed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Hey. Look at me, honey.”

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she turned her face to his shoulder instead.

“Jeni.” He made his voice firmer and caught her chin, tilting her face up. His heart still raced, but more from fear than excitement. “You need to stay with me.”

“I can't…” Her voice trailed away as she wiggled, then shivered through a moan. “Your jeans—”

Oh fuck. He shot to his feet, cradling her to his chest and cursing himself. Rough denim against spanked skin—it had to chafe like hell. He carried her to the bed and kicked off his jeans before stretching out next to her. “Better?”

“Shh.” Her fingertips brushed his lips. “It wasn't bad.”

“No,” he agreed, smoothing the damp strands of hair back from her forehead. “You were liking it just fine, I could tell. But you worried me, not answering.”

“Sometimes I go a little woozy.” Jeni trailed her fingers down to his collarbone and scratched him lightly. “It's all right.”

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.

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.