by Kit Rocha
His voice was equal parts desire and demand, only this time they weren't warring for control. They were in exquisite harmony as he pushed her down and hauled her up, teaching her the right rhythm, the one that would turn his wicked desires into perfect pleasure.
It was Gia who tilted the balance, luring Hawk deeper into fantasy with a husky suggestion. “You want to know how hard you can fuck this sweet mouth?” She dragged her nails lightly down Hawk's arm. “Stand up, darling, and find out. Because you're not there yet, not even close.”
Hawk dragged Jeni's head up as he rolled to his feet. She almost fell over, but steadied herself with one hand on his bare hip. He gave her a moment to settle herself, then cupped her cheek. “Is Gia right? Is it a gift, not having any choice now that you've decided to please me?”
Did he really not understand how arousing it was to be exactly what he needed? “The gift is having you trust me this much,” she told him softly.
His lips curved. “That's what I was going to say.” He pressed his thumb to her chin and guided her mouth open. “Gia?”
“Yes, darling?”
His smile widened. And even though he was speaking to Gia, the crude words were all for Jeni. “Hold her in place for me. I don't want her distracted from sucking my cock.”
Gia slipped from the bench and skated her fingernails up Jeni's spine as she settled at her side. “Arms back.”
Jeni was so entranced by Hawk's expression that she didn't move fast enough. Gia slapped her hip, forcing her to attention, and she folded her arms behind her back.
“I know, love.” Gia pinned her arms. The supple leather of Gia's bodice brushed Jeni's naked skin, evoking a shiver. “I know that's a beautiful cock, but you have to earn it, don't you?”
She was caged, trapped, but she still had her voice. “Every delicious inch.”
Hawk made a low noise. “Good girl,” he rasped, gripping his cock with one hand. The other pulled tighter in her hair, holding her head in place as he rubbed the crown across her lips. He groaned when he slid between them, pushing forward until her mouth grazed his fingers where they curled around his shaft.
It was nothing she couldn't handle, not even as deep as before. But there was something provocative about being held still while he moved. He could choke her, overwhelm her in pursuit of his pleasure, and she'd be helpless to stop him.
It was painfully erotic.
He eased back and then forward again, watching her face as he fucked into her. His speed increased, his fingers still around his shaft as a guard, but his thrusts were sharper now. Rougher. He dragged her to meet his advances, forcing her to sway with his rhythm.
“How wet is she?” he growled.
Oh, God.
Gia slid her free hand down Jeni's body, her touch familiar and knowing. She teased two fingers over her clit, just hard enough to leave Jeni chasing the caress, then thrust them deep into her pussy.
The sudden rush of pleasure screamed through Jeni. She whimpered and fluttered her tongue over Hawk's dick, silently begging him to hurry, please, hurry.
But Hawk had something else in mind. He waited as Gia worked a third finger into her, fucking them in and out until the slick sound of it filled the room. He waited, until Gia finally answered him. “She's so wet you'd drive all the way home with the first thrust.”
His chest heaving, Hawk dragged Jeni's head back. “Show me, Gia. Wrap those fingers around my dick and let me feel it.”
Jeni licked her lips and held her breath. Gia had slapped men for far less presumption than this—but now she only brushed a kiss to Jeni's temple and eased her fingers from her body. Her fingers glistened as she curled them around Hawk's cock and stroked him lazily.
Hawk hissed, and Jeni exhaled sharply. She'd never seen him so close to giving in. It was like every command he issued was a test, a tiny step further to see if she and Gia would balk. And when they didn't…
His face was tense with lust, every muscle in his strong body quivering. Jeni leaned in, pulling against his grip on her hair, and circled her tongue around the slippery head of his cock.
He shuddered. “Jeni—”
Gia dropped her hand. “Go on, Hawk. Give her what she wants.”
He did, dragging Jeni into a slow thrust that went on and on. He tasted like hunger, like her, and her rough moan was cut short when he drove deep enough to choke her. She swallowed him instead, working her throat around his cock.
Everything froze. Hawk's muscles turned to steel, the tension palpable as he let out a tortured groan. Gia stroked her cheek, murmuring encouragements and compliments that faded into white noise. Jeni stayed—her lungs burning, tears streaming out of her eyes. Willing the moment to last forever.
But it couldn't. Hawk pulled back with a hiss of loss, then thrust forward again, over and over, fucking her throat with a wildness that proved the last of his control had shredded away.
“Fuck—” The words began with his next thrust, short and breathless, filth falling from his lips with the fervency of a prayer. “So fucking good, taking all of me. Your hot mouth and pretty lips. Take it, Jeni. Take—fuck—”
So close to the edge. Jeni wanted to reach for him, to hold him as he tipped headfirst over it, but she was still trapped in Gia's arms. Hawk came with a harsh groan, spilling hot and thick across her tongue with every desperate, jerky thrust.
He stilled finally, and Gia stroked Jeni's cheek, wiping away tears. “There you go, sweet girl. You did so well. Didn't she, Hawk?”
His knees folded, and he sank to the carpet in front of her. “So perfect,” he agreed in a hoarse voice, cupping her other cheek. “Better than any fantasy.”
She tilted her face to his touch and let the peace of the moment wash over her. She knew she was a wreck—tangled hair, smeared makeup, a sheen of sweat covering her skin—but when he looked at her like that, it didn't matter. Nothing did.
She felt perfect.
He kissed her, teased his tongue over her lower lip, coaxing her to open for him. She floated on the slow, lazy kiss until he gripped her chin and turned her toward Gia.
Softer lips. A quicker tongue. Gia kissed with an edge, with scraping teeth and the bite of fingernails at the back of her neck, promising pleasure inseparable from pain. They traded her back and forth, kissing and stroking and petting and praising, until—
Jeni opened her eyes. Hawk was kissing Gia, his open mouth slanted over hers. His tongue flashed as he coaxed her lips wider, and a quick pulse of lust rocked Jeni. Watching him like this was a kind of torment, one that came with its own reward. She was always so wound up when he touched her, aching for relief, that she could never fully appreciate his raw animal appeal.
She appreciated the hell out of it now, watching him turn it on Gia. Gia, who had been touching her all night, who had given Hawk more than anyone could have asked for already.
Gia, who had done it all just for Jeni.
Her head was tilted, baring the vulnerable line of her throat. Jeni licked a path up the side of Gia's neck, over her jaw, then touched her tongue to their joined lips. “This is what I want now.”
Hawk broke away. “What, sweetheart?”
She tangled her fingers in his hair, then stroked the back of his neck. “It's Gia's turn.”
Gia shook her head. “That's sweet, love, but unnecessary. Tonight isn't about me.”
“Bullshit,” Hawk rumbled, rising slowly to his feet. He loomed above them as he lazily refastened his pants, then extended a hand to Gia. After a pause, she accepted it and allowed Hawk to help her up. Jeni stayed where she was, watching as the delicate moment played out.
Hawk stroked Jeni's disheveled hair. “Tonight is about Jeni. She wants to get you off. I want to get you off. Let us.”
Not quite an order, but more than a request. And Hawk meant it—he wanted to see Gia satisfied. Not just because Jeni wanted it, but because he wasn't the type of person who would use someone in pursuit of his own pleasure without offering pleasure in retu
rn. Not even if they were willing.
Not even if they expected it.
Gia framed his face, her lips softening into a sweet smile. “No wonder you're wild about him,” she murmured. “He's exquisite, Jeni.”
“I know.” He was gorgeous—and he was hers.
Gia moved toward the bed, and Hawk extended his hand again. When Jeni slipped her fingers into his, he pulled her up against him. The hair on his chest chafed over her breasts, and his jeans scraped teasingly against her bare thighs. “Did you leave things here? Floggers, whips?”
Her breath seized in her chest. “All of that.”
“Show me.”
She walked to the cabinet set along the far wall. It was just another piece of furniture in the same sophisticated style as the rest of the room. But inside lay all the items the O'Kanes displayed so brashly—leather and suede and steel, all locked away, waiting.
Hawk traced the supple leather of one whip before dragging his fingers through the falls of a deerskin flogger. “Join Gia on the bed. I'll pick something.”
“Do you need—?”
He smiled at her. “I know what I want tonight. Go.”
Gia was standing by the bed, her hair gathered up off her neck, clearing the way for Jeni to reach the clasps along the back of her bodice. “Who helps you with these dresses now that I'm gone?”
“It turns out Lance makes a tolerable lady's maid.” Gia smiled over her shoulder. “He's getting downright possessive of my wardrobe. I had to ease him back before he terrorized the washwomen.”
Lance could terrorize anyone just by existing. The man was huge, and it was hard not to laugh at the idea of his massive fingers trying to navigate tiny buttons, tricky zippers, and gauzy fabrics. But he was painfully loyal, completely devoted, because Gia had picked him up off the street and given him a job, a purpose. A life.
That was Gia. She gathered people who'd been tossed aside, thrown away, and she made them her own, just as Dallas did.
The thought sobered Jeni as the leather parted, revealing Gia's smooth skin. “You know I'm still here, right? Just because I left the job behind doesn't mean I left you.”
“I know, love.” Gia turned and took Jeni's face between her hands the same way she had Hawk's. But her smile was softer this time, her eyes warm with affection, and her voice dipped to a whisper. “I always thought Dallas and Lex would be the ones to take you away for good. They'd care for you and keep you safe. But Hawk will make you his world.”
Jeni had never been anyone's world before. She waited for the panic, the fear—she wouldn't be enough, no one could be—but it didn't come. Instead, what flooded her was strength and certainty.
Jeni matched Gia's smile as she eased the leather straps from her shoulders and let the heavy dress drop. “Then I'll have to return the favor, won't I?”
In Hawk's earliest days as a member, Dallas had sent him out with whoever needed backup. Boots-on-the-ground training and a side of friendly hazing all rolled into one, because brotherhood was something you had to earn.
Ace had always been the worst. Not because he liked to haze, but because he liked to talk. Hawk and Jasper could cover the entire market plus another ten blocks without feeling compelled to exchange more than a few necessary words.
But Ace? He never shut up.
Even that might have been tolerable if they shared an interest—any interest. Finn and Bren loved to talk cars, Cruz and Zan liked to talk weapons. But Ace only seemed to have three settings: art, booze, and kinky fucking. And Hawk had still been trying to convince himself so damn hard that that last one wasn't a shared interest at all.
Jeni's cabinet was a goddamn treasure chest of delicious perversion. Leather cuffs that would fit around her wrists and ankles, connected to delicate lengths of chain. Equally delicate looking strands of pearls that his imagination could already conjure uses for. Vials and bottles stacked in neat little rows, some recognizably products of Tatiana's robust business in massage oil and lube, some tiny and elegant, screaming money.
And hanging on a row of hooks in the back…
Ace would probably call it a modest collection. But Ace was the one who'd dragged him into the leatherworker's shop in the marketplace on every fucking trip. Ace was the one who waxed fucking poetical about choosing the right tool for the job.
Ace was the one who'd had a shit fit the day Hawk had wanted to get the fuck out before temptation overrode his good sense, so he'd gone ahead and asked how many fucking floggers one man could possibly need.
The tirade had lasted the entire way home. About the types of leather and the weight and the width and why it mattered. About the art of knowing when someone needed something sharp and stinging, and when they needed deep and solid. And there might have been a few jabs about how a man would have to be a boring-ass lay if he thought a partner always wanted one or the other.
Hawk had tried to let it roll off, but some part of him had hoarded every precious scrap of knowledge. Deep down, in the same place where he'd locked away his lust for Jeni and all the urges he'd never considered indulging. So he knew he wasn't ready for the whip, and that the flogger made from thin strips of oiled leather would sting more than he wanted when she was still tender from the other night.
He picked the other one—soft, supple leather in strips almost as wide as his thumb. As he gripped the handle, his heart thudded faster, which should have been fucking impossible. His heart had stuttered when Jeni slid to her knees, and shattered the first time she swallowed his cock, so desperate to please that she'd let him fuck her. Use her. Violate her.
Except it hadn't felt like a violation. It had felt joyous, and he was a walking dead man who'd somehow ended up in heaven.
He turned back toward the bed. Jeni and Gia were curled together, their limbs entwined. Gia had shed her dress and shoes, leaving her clad only in sleek black lace lingerie that sure as fuck hadn't come from one of the factories in Eight. It was probably irreplaceable.
And Jeni was goddamn close to ripping it.
Gia slipped a hand into Jeni's hair, and Hawk tightened his fist until he could feel every subtle ridge of the flogger's handle. He waited for that dark pit of jealousy to open up and swallow him whole, and he braced himself to fight back, to deny it, to rise above it.
What rose instead was even less civilized. Certainty, raw and undeniable. Jealousy fed on insecurity, thrived on doubt, and Hawk had none tonight.
Jeni was utterly and completely his.
As he crossed the room, she proved it by breaking away from Gia's kiss. She stared up at him, like a compass swinging back to north. He brushed his fingers over her flushed cheek and couldn't stop the smile that curved his lips. She was disheveled and so aroused she had to be aching for release, but no frustration showed in her expression. Just bright, shining trust.
Even heaven couldn't be this sweet.
“Keep going,” he murmured. “You have about sixty seconds before I get my pants off and my fingers inside you. Think you can make Gia come first?”
She muffled a laugh against Gia's shoulder. “Hell, no.”
Gia's laugh was deeper. Warmer. She watched Hawk over the top of Jeni's head as he tossed the flogger on the bed and reached for his pants. “I wouldn't be so sure. The two of you are hot enough to get anyone off.”
The two of you. That's what they would be, if they managed to survive this war. If Jeni kept his collar—or even exchanged it for his ink wrapped around her throat. They'd be an entity, their names flowing together into one word. Dallas-and-Lex. Jas-and-Noelle.
Hawk-and-Jeni.
He popped open the button on his pants. “Sixty...fifty-nine…”
Jeni smiled softly as her hand vanished beneath black lace. Gia's head fell back against the pillows, her lips parting on a soft moan. “Does he think he has sixty seconds?”
“Shh, don't tell him all my secrets,” Jeni whispered. “Not yet.”
And there, at last, was the jealousy. Not a raging fire inside him, but a
single blade honed so sharp it cut deep and left him quietly bleeding.
Gia could get all over Jeni, inside her. She could lick and stroke and fuck her past the brink, and Hawk could watch, smug in the knowledge that Jeni had placed her body firmly in his keeping. Everyone who touched Jeni did so at his command, because that was the arrangement they'd made when she'd allowed him to wrap that leather around her throat.
Maybe they'd rushed it. War made people rush to snatch at whatever they could get, just in case it all slipped away. Jeni had given him everything she could. Recklessly, even.
But she couldn't give him this. You couldn't rush the kind of easy affection she and Gia shared, the quiet understanding where Gia only had to lift her hips and Jeni was there, sliding her underwear off her hips and down her legs.
It wasn't choreographed. It wasn't a performance. Oh, they'd get off on knowing how hot they were making him, how tempting it was to wrap his hand around his cock and fuck his fist to the tempo of Jeni's fingers. But he'd cataloged Jeni's performances, all of her masks and how different she was when she wasn't wearing one. This was real, precious—an understanding of each other's bodies that had grown over months and years instead of days and weeks.
Hawk might not have years. Fuck, he might not even have months. He could spend every waking moment inside Jeni and it still might not be enough to get them to where he needed to be, to the unassailable confidence that he knew her better than anyone else. That it wasn't just her body he'd laid claim to, but her mind and heart.
He'd fooled himself into believing he knew her just because he'd watched her. Because he'd been a silent, longing observer. And he'd had to believe it, because the alternative was facing the truth.
They were running out of time. And he'd wasted so fucking much of it.
Jeni licked the curves of Gia's breasts above the delicate black lace that hugged them, then glanced up at Hawk. She held his gaze with one full of heat and desire—invitation. Challenge.
