Judgment Road (Torpedo Ink #1)

by Christine Feehan

  She moved up his leg to his thigh. “That’s good, Reaper. I’m hoping if I can do this most nights before you go to sleep, you’ll eventually get so used to me touching you, that even if you never let another adult put their hand on you, you’ll crave mine.” She glanced up at him from under her lashes, a small smile on her face because that idea really was her goal. “I see you’re really enjoying this.”

  “Come up here. I’m going to have you sit on me.”

  Her heart stuttered. She wanted that, but she wanted something else more. “I have another idea, Reaper. I’d like you to let me try.”

  “Tell me.” His voice was low. Sexy. Full of sin.

  He wanted her and he was going to have her. She knew that because she wanted him just as much, if not more. How could she touch him, all those scars down his back, the burns and whip marks on his buttocks. Down the backs of his thighs. The burns on his inner thighs. He’d been beaten front and back. How could she touch all that, and not want every inch of him? He was hers. She didn’t necessarily want him able to stand any other person’s touch. Or their lips or their mouth.

  She scooted up his legs, straddling him, settling over his thighs. She poured more oil into her palms. “I’m going to put my hands on your shaft, make a tight fist, and you’re going to put your hands around mine so you’re controlling everything. But I get to touch you, and you’ll feel my hands on you for the first time. If you hate it, you just take my hands away. If you like it, you control the action. If you want my mouth on you, you control that too. I’m going to turn all control over to you.”

  He studied her face for a long time. Too long. Her heart began to pound. He was so beautiful lying there, his hands fisting his cock, his body laid out beneath her, so perfect, so scarred, his mind so damaged. She’d thought him broken, but he wasn’t. He hadn’t let them do that to him. Damaged, yes, broken no.

  “All right, baby. If you have that kind of courage, the kind that will face a monster, I have to have it too. You fuckin’ terrify me, woman.”

  Anya smiled at him, trying to convey confidence. Her heart hammered at her, so loud she was afraid he could hear, but she didn’t hesitate. She held out her hands. He curled his around hers.

  “Look at me, baby. Keep looking at me. I need that.”

  She couldn’t have looked away. His blue gaze was locked on her, just like the torpedo he described. His hands took hers and brought them to his cock. She curled her fingers around his shaft. Velvet over steel. He felt beautiful. Hot. Hard. His body shuddered under her, but his gaze didn’t waver and his hands tightened around hers, forcing her fist to tighten around his shaft. He pumped. Slowly at first, the warm oil making it easy to slide up and down. She wanted to memorize every part of him. That part of him.

  “Anya.” He breathed her name. “You’re a fuckin’ miracle.”

  “I was thinking the same of you,” she admitted.

  He threw his head back, exposing his throat, but his eyes stayed on hers. “Now, baby. Look at us.” Very slowly, almost reluctantly, his gaze slid away from hers, dropping lower.

  She did the same. Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands surrounded his cock. Fisted him. His hands guided hers. Each pull, the slide of that smooth, hot velvet had her sex clenching. Her inner muscles spasming. Needing.

  “You’re touching me and I want it, Anya. I want to feel your hands on me like this. I didn’t know it would feel like this. So good.”

  “Thank you for taking the chance with me,” she whispered. “If I never get the chance again, I’ll always remember this.” She would. Straddling him, sitting on his thighs, face-to-face, her shirt open, breasts heaving with every panting breath, her hands tight around his cock, feeling that thick, hard length sliding through the oil in her palms. She loved that his hands surrounded hers, holding her fists tightly around him. That felt … intimate. More intimate than if she’d been giving him a hand job on her own.

  One of his hands came up to her hair, fisted at the back. Tightly. His fingers next to her skull. There was a small bite of pain she barely noticed because her eyes were on the beauty of that broad head sliding through her fists. It was gorgeous. Temptation.

  Reaper began to put pressure on her, bending her down toward his cock. Her heart pounded as she understood what he was doing. She relaxed completely, giving herself to him. Letting him have complete control, just as she’d promised.

  “Tell me what you want,” she whispered.

  “Nothing. Not yet. Just your breath.”

  She kept her fists tight, working him. Increasing the speed because he was increasing it. Holding him tighter because his hand was nearly crushing hers. He brought her mouth within a breath of his cock, and she inhaled, taking the musky scent of him deep, exhaling need and hunger out of her lungs, over that broad, velvety head with the tempting droplets. More leaked as she watched.

  “Touch me with your tongue. Just touch, Anya. Don’t try anything else.”

  She wasn’t about to try anything else. It was terrifying, yet she found it sexy as hell to have him forcing her head over his cock, his hands forcing her fist to work him fast. If anything, his cock was harder and thicker than it had been before. He kept her head just out of reach, so all she could do was flick her tongue gently across that surface, swiping up a couple of the drops spilling out.

  His body shuddered and he jerked her head back. The flash of pain through her scalp was nothing like the piercing pain shooting through her heart. He didn’t yank her up, so much as just lift her head an inch from him. He breathed deeply.

  “Holy fuckin’ hell, woman. That was like a lash of fire.”

  Her heart settled back to a hard pounding. She kept forcing air through her lungs. “You taste good.”

  “Yeah? Want more?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “If you can give it to me.”

  “Don’t fuckin’ run off again, Anya.”

  “Don’t let another woman touch what’s mine,” she said, refusing to take the blame for the mess he’d created by not talking to her.

  “I didn’t allow her to touch me.”

  That was true. He’d never consented. “I’m going to punch her right in the face,” she said. “But right now, I’m feeling like I need another taste.”

  “Yeah? Not hearin’ you say it, baby.”

  Was he teasing her? Her hands around his cock, her mouth inches away? Was that happiness in his voice? Teasing?

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Ask nice. I’m giving you something special, baby. Something no one else is ever going to get.”

  That was true. At least she hoped it was. She hoped it was only her hands he could take. Her mouth. “I would very much like another taste, Reaper. Please.” She used her best manners, trying not to laugh when she was so happy. This could go wrong at any time. She wasn’t stupid, she knew it could, but right now, she had this with him and she’d always cherish this moment. She also knew this might be her only time like this with him and it would have to be enough for both of them, but she was going to enjoy every minute and hope there would be more.

  His hand bunched her hair tighter and he put pressure on her head, pushing her down over him. “Just your tongue.”

  She was closer this time and she lapped at him, took those drops, now leaking over and over, into her mouth. “Your taste is addicting.” Her mouth was so close that when she spoke, her lips whispered over the broad head.

  Again, his body shuddered with pleasure. He didn’t lift her head away from him. He pushed her down a little closer. “Open your mouth, Anya.”

  Heart racing, she did as he said. Instinctively she knew not to close it. His cock pushed against her tongue. She let it slide there, over and over, before she tentatively curled her tongue around him, danced it over him and then slid it up that long prominent vein. He pulled her head back, just an inch, that pain biting into her scalp. She was so elated she didn’t care.

  Reaper was breathing fast, his hips moving now,

a subtle push, building a rhythm. “Suck this time. Hard. I want to feel it. And tighten your fist.”

  She did what he’d commanded with her hand but waited for him to push her head down on him. The moment he did, she closed her mouth over him, letting her own fist push him deep while she hollowed her cheeks and suckled hard. His breath exploded out of him. He swore, pushing her head down more, pulling her hands off him so his hand took their place at the base, guiding his cock into her mouth.

  “Cup my balls, Anya. Gently. Be gentle.”

  She knew he gave her those instructions because others hadn’t been gentle. She was. Mostly she concentrated on the way he felt in her mouth. She wanted to be good for him. The best. She wanted him, at the end, to want more with her. She hoped that he would grow to know her hands and mouth and that he would crave them on him.

  His hands gripped her hair harder and he yanked her off him. She let him, reassuring him that he had complete control just by her compliance. He didn’t push her away, but just breathed deeply, his hand working his cock.

  “Roll them, baby. I want your mouth there.” He pushed her head down so she was level with his heavy sac. She used her tongue to lap, her mouth to suckle and her hands to gently roll his heavy balls around. Then he was dragging her head up again, and forcing her mouth over his cock.

  “Fuck me with your mouth.”

  She did, keeping the suction strong, using her tongue, letting him guide her head up and down. Then he took over completely, and she had to use every ounce of courage and trust she had. He held her head down, forcing her to take him deep, forcing her to breathe through her nose as she suckled him.

  The breath hissed out of his lungs. His hips bucked into her. She felt him hit her throat and she fought for air. He pulled her off of him immediately, his hands going to her waist. “Guide me into you. I need to be in you, baby. Face-to-face, just like this.”

  Elated, she sank down over him, letting him fill her. The feel of him was insane. So tight. Like he was never going to fit. Her body would never give in to his invasion. And then he was there, part of her. Exquisite. Perfect.

  “Scorchin’ hot, Anya. You’re always like a fuckin’ furnace, surrounding me with your fire.” He began to move, surging into her, pulling her down over him.

  Anya caught his rhythm and helped, riding him hard. Feeling the burn running up her spine. She pushed off the shirt, and then brushed her hand down his chest, watching those sensual lines in his face, carved so deep with lust. The blue of his eyes darkened with desire—for her. She rode him for as long as she could, while the flames licked at her thighs, danced down her breasts into her belly and that coil deep inside wound tighter and tighter.

  “Honey, I have to let go.”

  “No.” He was firm. “Not yet. Don’t want to come yet and you’ll take me with you.”

  She bit her lip and pushed down into each stroke, arched her back, but that only added to the friction. His fingers were on her nipples, pulling and tugging until the breath hissed out of her and her entire body felt as if it might implode if she didn’t let go.

  “I have to let go. I need to.”

  “No. Not yet. A little more time, Anya.” It was a plea, but it was also a command. “Fight it for me, baby. I promise it will be worth it.”

  Her breath hitched. She tried to pull back, but he didn’t. He kept slamming deep, sending those streaks of fire rushing through her. It felt like whips of lightning crept in. Then his fingers left her breasts and slid down her belly to the junction between her legs.

  “Paradise right here, baby. Love your mouth. Love your sweet pussy. Love that you’re all mine.” His finger slid between them and circled her clit.

  She gasped and caught at his wrist. “I won’t be able to hold back.”

  “I want to see your hands on your tits, Anya. I love how you look right now. So needy. Desperate. You want what I can give you, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” She nearly sobbed it, riding him hard, trying not to think about his finger flicking at her clit, torturing her with sheer pleasure.

  “So fuckin’ beautiful, baby. I could look at you all day like this. Now, baby, give it to me now.”

  He flicked her clit hard, and she screamed. A sob escaped as her body fragmented, burst into a million rocketing pieces. Colors gathered behind her eyes, sparkling and shifting, her body dragging at his, gripping, the muscles clamping down and milking hard. His fingers bit deep into her hips, her wild orgasm forcing the seed from him. Each hot splash set off a chain of reactions, shock waves going through her, rippling through every cell so that her body kept clamping down again and again on his.

  She finally slumped forward, burying her face in his shoulder, fighting for air. He held her tightly. So tightly, she feared she’d never breathe again, and that he was going to break every rib she had, but she didn’t move. She remained still, pressed against him, his body buried deep in hers.

  “I got to put my hands on you, Reaper. It was so wonderful. So perfect.” She felt tears burning in her eyes and she wiped them on his bare shoulder. “Thank you so much for trying with me.”

  “You know I loved every second of that. And I got your mouth. You gave that to me, Anya. You let me be in complete control, and I liked it. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation when you handed control over to me. Not only are you the most beautiful woman there is, but you’re the smartest and the bravest.”

  She laughed, because the relief was so tremendous. She knew they would have problems. Always. It wasn’t going to end, but they’d found a way for at least this time. She hoped it was the start of many times. “Loved giving you a massage, Reaper. I’d like to continue that practice often. When we do, I’m hoping you’ll get used to the feel of my hands. Any time you want my hands or mouth on you, you take complete control.”

  He stroked her hair. “You good with that, Anya? Giving me control like that? I could have shoved my cock down your throat. Felt that fuckin’ good.”

  “I’m sure it did, but you also know I’m not ready for that. You can give me instructions. I kind of get off on that. I trust you to take care of me.”

  “You can, Anya. I’ll always take care of you. You’re worn out, baby. Why don’t you go upstairs and get some sleep?”

  “I’m not going upstairs. I’m sleeping with you,” she said stubbornly.

  “Anya.” His voice was pure warning. “That’s not happening. I hit you.”

  “You didn’t hit me. You knocked me off of you.” She tried to make a joke of it. “My hair assaulted you.”

  “Not happening,” he repeated.

  “You’re going to hold me until I fall asleep and then you’re going to put a barrier between us so I can’t roll over and take advantage of your body in my sleep.”

  He leaned down and bit her shoulder. Hard. She yelped, pulled back and glared at him.

  “That was mean.”

  “I’m mean. You knew that when you took me on. You’re getting bossy, woman. Just sayin’.” The teasing note left his voice. “Not takin’ a chance with your life. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”

  “It isn’t going to happen. We might never make it upstairs to an actual bedroom, Reaper, and I’m fine with that. We might never get to the point where I can touch you on my own, or put my mouth on you on my own, and I’m really okay with that because it’s hot as hell the way we did it tonight, but I’m not okay with not sleeping with you. I know you won’t fall sleep before me, so you can have the task of rolling blankets or getting pillows and putting as wide a barrier as you think you need between us.”

  His gaze moved over her face. Moody. Hooded eyes. Sexy. She held her breath. He didn’t move.

  “I need this, Reaper,” she whispered, telling him the truth.

  “I ought to lock you up at night, you’re that dangerous. Have me turnin’ into a fuckin’ pussy. Don’t talk to me like this in front of my brothers.”

  Elation swept through her. She smiled. Big. She couldn’t help it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Thank you, honey.”

  He kissed her back. Over and over. Then he rolled her over and took her body hard and fast a second time. She didn’t mind at all that she was on her elbows and knees. Fire was fire, and she’d had him face-to-face. He could exert dominance any way he wanted. He’d given her everything she’d asked for and more tonight. And he gave her a hell of another orgasm.

  * * *

  Blankets spread on the great room floor, Reaper held Anya until she fell asleep exactly as she’d asked. He couldn’t believe she’d touched his cock. He really couldn’t believe her mouth had been on him. He hadn’t had one adverse reaction. Not one. Not a twinge. She’d given up all control, trusted him completely, and they’d done it. He couldn’t wait to try it again. Every fuckin’ night.

  He swept his hand down her hair. All that glorious hair he loved to see spread on his pillow. That was coming next. He wanted it all with her. He knew he was being a little greedy, but he believed in her. In the two of them. They were a long way from fixing his issues, and he was certain they never fully would, but she’d found a way to work on them. Work around them.

  He loved that she wanted him to recognize her hands. He lifted one into the air and stared at it in the light streaking through the windows. His thumb slid over her palm. Once. Twice. Her hands were little in comparison to his, but they wielded such power over him. So much. He knew his body would recognize her touch, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. A nightly massage, a blow job, his cock buried deep in her, he was okay with all of that. For the first time he had hope. He brought her hand to his mouth and brushed kisses over it. Hope was a fragile thing and he was determined he’d keep it alive for both of them.

  He carefully slid away from her, tucking rolled blankets at her back, grateful for the little murmur of protest she gave. He knew it was going to be a while before he drifted off and he paced for a long time, wishing he smoked. He’d never taken up the habit because he was a hunter. He often followed his prey by the scent of their cigarettes. It was even easier if his target smoked weed.

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