by A. J. Norris
He tightened his hold around Rick’s neck, aggression, violence, and rage seemingly consuming him. That cage turned Jonny into a savage—a turbulent, ruthless savage.
Was Jonny capable of…would he…?
No. No, he couldn’t. Jonny was a lot of things, but he couldn’t be capable of murder. For a moment my heart stopped, but then he looked up and our gazes locked. Something powerful passed between us, and I knew right then that even though Jonny was everything I shouldn’t want, he still undoubtedly owned my heart.
Rick tapped, the bell rang and Jonny immediately let go. I exhaled, relief flowing through my veins.
The cage started to descend, and Jonny never took his eyes off me. When the gate opened he rushed out, not bothering with soaking up the glory of his win. With sheer determination he pushed through the crowd, eyes still on me, and I swallowed hard when I saw the determination on his face. The resolve, the feral look in his eyes made me step back. It was there in the way he looked at me, the clear image of what he wanted…me.
As he started up the stairs my heart begun to thrash against my ribs, and I moved back, my gaze etched on the door in front of me. Even though there was panic in my veins, there was anticipation in my belly, and need between my thighs.
The door unlocked, and Jonny flung it open with such force it hit against the wall with a loud thud. I gasped when I saw the hunger on his face, the desire swirling in his eyes. With fists still covered in blood, sweat glistening on his hard body, the sight of Jonny made everything inside me coil tight.
Two steps and he was inside the room, slamming the door closed behind him.
“Jonny—”
“Shut up.” He slowly started toward me. “All these years thinking that I made the right decision by leaving, thinking that I was protecting you from me, you still fucking haunted me. Not a single night went by that I didn’t think about what would have happened if I didn’t leave that night.”
He kept on coming closer, and my heart kept on beating faster and faster, my thighs clenched as need pooled between my legs. “You think you got dealt the worst hand in this entire situation?” He stopped, his body only inches from mine. “You think you’re the only one that suffered all these years? Think again, dream girl. I’m the one who had to live with my decision. I’m the one who couldn’t get your goddamn face out of my head, unable to stop thinking about how fucking good it would have felt if I had taken you that night.”
“Jonny, please.”
“I said shut up.” He placed his arm above my shoulder, his palm flush against the wall. “You came here for answers, so let me give them to you.”
I gasped when I felt his fingers touch the inside of my thigh. “Every goddamn day of my life I struggled with the memory of you naked, on your bed, fucking offering yourself to me. You begged me to take you, to make love to you. And the best part? You didn’t have to beg. I wanted to claim you. I wanted to fucking mark you from the inside by giving you every fucking inch of my cock. I never wanted anything more.”
“Then why didn’t you?” My voice came out as nothing more than a whisper, his fingers slowly moving higher up my thigh, making my legs tremble.
“Because you were, and still are, too damn good for the likes of me. I knew I’d only ruin you.”
“But you ruined me when you left.”
“I thought you’d get over it.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
His thumb softly brushed against my panties, and I closed my eyes as my desire burned through me like an inferno, threatening to incinerate me.
“Guess what, dream girl? Neither have I.”
Like a needy little tramp, I spread my legs wider, welcoming his touch, inviting him to give me more. Just like that night five years ago, my body and my mind were so ready for him to claim me.
“Tell me, dream girl, how many times have you touched yourself thinking about me?” Slowly his fingers pushed my panties to the side, and the second he touched me without any barriers, I whimpered. “I can tell you that I lost count of how many times I jerked off thinking about you and how good it had to feel to be inside you, claiming the innocent virgin Peyton.”
My mind was chaos, my insides nothing but flames of desire. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t speak. I was too consumed by him, by my need to be taken by him.
As he slipped a finger through my slit, we both moaned in unison. “Good God, Peyton. This body of yours will be the fucking end of me.” He brushed his lips against my ear. “How many?”
I leaned my head back against the wall, relishing his touch, my body climbing higher and higher as his finger continued to stroke between my legs. “How many what?”
“How many men have had you?”
“Why does that matter?”
With a jerk, he grabbed me behind my neck and forced me to look at him. “I have to know how many men I need to kill.”
My gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth, then back up just as he pushed his finger inside me again.
“None,” I gasped.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” He groaned, and I moaned as he tore through my panties, palming me between my legs.
“I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t give myself to any other man. A part of me always knew that I belonged to you, and only you.”
His finger slipped out before pushing back in, my legs quivering, threatening to give way beneath me.
“I can’t be your first, Peyton.” His lips found the skin of my neck, his teeth grazing and nipping. “I won’t be able to control myself when it comes to you. Once I feel you, I can’t guarantee I’d be able to go slow.”
With burning lust and raging desire, I reached out and boldly cupped his cock in my palm. Immediately he flexed into my hand, a low rumble echoing from the back of his throat.
“I don’t want you to take it slow.”
Another thrust of his hips and I gasped when he suddenly pulled my dress down, exposing my breasts. His hand moved from between my legs, the cold air assaulting my wet lips. My body hummed, and my pussy ached for release as he grabbed my ass, slowly dragging his hand down my thigh before jerking my leg up and wrapping it around him.
“If I take you, I’ll hurt you.”
“You’ll hurt me more if you don’t.”
He leaned down, pushing my breast up with his palm before taking my nipple in his mouth. The warm wetness of his tongue swirled around my hard flesh, teasing and flicking, driving my body insane with need.
With a pop he let go of my nipple before going on his knees, pulling my one leg over his shoulder.
“Jonny.”
“If you want to be able to take everything I plan on giving you, you need to come first.”
Without warning, his fingers spread my lips wide, and his tongue slowly slipped all the way from my entrance to my clit, causing my body to shudder, my insides to coil tight with the all-consuming need for release.
I weaved my fingers through his hair, all traces of modesty gone. I didn’t care that no man had ever seen or experienced me like this. The fact that I had never had this with anyone didn’t stop me from relishing every goddamn second of it. More flicks of his tongue against my clit, and I cried out, my spine tingling, my blood scorching the inside of my veins. The sensation of his warm, wet mouth between my legs was almost too much for me to handle. I didn’t know for how long I’d be able to stay up.
My hips started to move on their own accord, the sexual craving now in complete control of my body.
“That’s right, dream girl. Fuck my mouth.”
“Jesus.”
My eyes rolled closed and my head fell back, my body moving closer and closer to the edge of sexual insanity. Every muscle and every nerve were ready, teetering on the edge of sordid decadence.
Sucking my flesh between his lips, he eased a finger inside me, and then my fucking mind exploded. I splintered and shattered, my body nothing but tiny pieces of pleasure as my orgasm ripped up my spine, crashing against every bone. He didn’t stop. His
tongue kept its relentless onslaught, milking every ounce of pleasure out of me.
My legs finally gave way and I collapsed, only to feel his arms wrap around my waist, guiding me to the floor, placing me on my back.
Euphoria possessed me, but my body wasn’t sated yet. It needed so much more…it needed him.
I opened my eyes and looked at Jonny just as he went on his knees between my legs, staring down at me while pushing his pants down, his cock standing proud.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this exact moment. I was never rid of you, Peyton Miller. Never.”
I swallowed when he took his cock in his hand, leisurely stroking it up and down.
“Every goddamn time I came, it was your face I saw.” He reached down and grabbed a foil packet, before tearing it open and slowly rolling the condom onto his cock. All I could do was squirm, my core aching, needing, craving to be filled by him.
“Last chance, dream girl. Are you sure about this?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Then open those legs for me, baby. Open them wide.”
And I obeyed immediately, another rush of lust pooling between my legs. I’ve waited for this day, dreamed of this moment when Jonny Kade would finally take that which I had offered him years ago.
He leaned down, his cock still in hand. “Remember what I told you. I won’t be able to go slow. Not with you. Can you handle that?”
Right now, with my body weeping for him, I could handle anything. “Just as long as I have you.”
He brought one hand to my face, cupping my cheek. “Baby, you’ve always had me.”
The moment I felt the head of his cock probe my entrance, I moaned. Both nerves and anticipation coiled my insides into a vise.
His dark, hungry gaze remained etched on mine as he pushed a little further. “You need to know, once I take you, once I claim you, I am never letting you go.” Another inch of him entered me, stretching me. “You will never be free of me. After tonight, I will be inside you every goddamn chance I can get. I will fuck you, make love to you, goddamn desecrate you if that’s what you need from me. But I am the only one who will ever have you in this way.”
More blunt pressure between my legs, and pain started to collide with pleasure. I closed my eyes, but he cupped my cheek and forced me to look at him.
“Eyes on me, dream girl. Take a deep breath.” And then with a single jab, he pushed all the way inside me, and I cried out as a sharp pain seared up my spine, only to be replaced by pleasure a few seconds later. He filled me to the brim, possessed me, completely consumed me as he buried himself to the hilt inside me.
“Fuck!” His head hung down, his cock remaining inside me. But I felt the way his body quivered. I saw the way every muscle ticked and strained as he forced himself to remain still, giving me time to adjust to him.
I hated it. I hated that he held back, which is why I lifted my hips, pushing him in deeper.
“Jesus, Peyton.” He gripped my hip, stilling me. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t stop, Jonny.”
He bit his lower lip. “I can’t lose control with you. I don’t want to hurt you.”
I placed my hands on his shoulders and dragged my nails over his skin. “You’ll hurt me if you hold back.”
Another move of my hips and he cursed before giving a hard thrust, pushing so deep he slammed against my core.
“Ah,” I moaned out loud.
“I want to fuck you so bad.”
His warm lips found mine, his cock hard and still inside me. He kissed me, devoured my mouth, claiming every inch. I could feel the desperation in his kiss, his need for so much more…and by God, I would give it to him. My body had enough time to adjust, now it wanted more.
I weaved my fingers through his hair at the back of his neck and brought my lips up to his ear. “Then fuck me, Jonny.”
With a hard, deep thrust, he roared like a wild beast, and I knew he had lost that last thread of control.
More pain, more pleasure, more wicked decadence. Every time he slammed into me, the sound of flesh against flesh resounded around us, arousal pooling between our bodies.
“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, out of breath, but not stopping his relentless thrusting.
“God, no.”
When he reached between us, his finger finding my clit, I cried out, arching my back while my entire body started to quiver as I squirmed beneath him.
More thrusts, more touching, more heady moans, and finally we both detonated. He cursed, I moaned, and I came violently while feeling the jerks of his pleasure inside me.
It was the most intense, most powerful moment I had ever experienced, and seeing the ecstasy on his face as he stared down at me had my heart swelling inside my chest. No dream, no fantasy, nothing could have compared to what I just experienced with Jonny. It’s like our souls had become one, finally solidified into a stronghold of passion and something that felt a lot like…love.
“What happens now, Jonny?”
He cupped my cheek, his thumb lightly brushing along my bottom lip. “Like I said before, you shouldn’t have found me…because now I’m never letting you go.”
The End
About the Author
All the way from Cape Town, South Africa, Bella J lives for the days when she’s able to retreat to her writer’s cave where she can get lost in her little pretend world of romance, love, and insanely hot heroes.
She has a taste for dark, romantic suspense novels with mysterious, brooding bad boys and strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees. Add a little humor and a lot of sexy, and she’s in writer’s Heaven.
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Paper Faces
By Jennifer Loring
A Firebird Story
“Who are you taking to the ball?” Tyler asked as his future conquest fawned all over him. The life of a pro athlete. Their number-one defenseman and representative in the Players’ Association had joked that they should add a new clause to their next collective bargaining agreement: “The player agrees to fuck any and all groupies in the best interest of his Club and his continuing development on and off the ice.”
“What the fuck is this, Cinderella?” And why do I hang out with this zhopa?
The answer to that was easy enough. Tyler liked to party, and few others could hold their own with Sasha.
Sasha waved off the whole thing dramatically. Another goddamned charity event, and an adult costume party at that. And he’d have the media, waiting for him to get drunk and mouth off, to contend with. He’d rather eat the glass from which he drained his Sazerac.
They were in a hotel bar somewhere in downtown Vancouver, every TV predictably tuned to their opponents’ current game. A back-to-back for them should have—in theory—given the Earthquakes an advantage tomorrow night, but the hockey gods were capricious bitches.
And the Earthquakes sucked.
The puck bunnies had gathered earlier in anticipation of the team’s arrival, and attached themselves to whatever players offered them a modicum of attention. No depth was too low to sink in pursuit of becoming a trophy wife. Apparently, as soon as one of the city’s resident bunnies discovered which hotel was putting up the visiting team, she sent out the signal and the whole warren showed up. Vancouver’s shitty October weather—rain followed by more rain—would not keep them from their appointed rounds.
Sasha perused the shelves of liquor, the bottles lit from beneath by a shifting rainbow of light, and motioned for another drink. He didn’t care what at this point. The name of the woman beside him had already slipped his mind. He’d picked her up for the drugs she claimed to have as much as for sex; he’d have
a contact the next time he was in town. Her name was something to do with glass, he thought.
Cristal. Not my real name.
That was it. Nothing like a strong drink to jog his memory.
No shit, he’d rejoined.
“Some chick. I’ve seen her off and on since I moved here.” Or had until the night Stephanie Hartwell showed up in the Earthquakes’ locker room like a wish fulfilled.
Sasha counted hundreds of ex-lovers, but his ex-girlfriends remained a single digit. One.
Then he’d had to go and kiss her at the bar, the inner hopeless romantic he’d kept bound and gagged for years freed not just by alcohol but also by the one woman who could save him. Her lack of resistance made everything that much thornier.
And yet she was engaged. Maybe a blessing in disguise, because Sasha hated how desperate and out of control his emotions had become. Hated the comatose memories she had coaxed back into life as Lazarus from his tomb; hated them because he cherished them so much that he would have sacrificed anything to create more.
None of which fit his cultivated image of star hockey player and consummate asshole. The media loved it, but it served a vital purpose. He offered no one pieces of himself with which they could cut him later. Not anymore.
“Come on.” He tugged on the woman’s arm. Small talk bored him, and the emptiness was creeping in, like mist off the lake. “Take me to your room.”
She squealed with delight.
Sasha clenched his teeth. He unfolded from the high-back chair at the bar and clapped Tyler on the shoulder. “See you at the morning skate. Have fun.”
“You too, bro.” Tyler cackled. “I know you will.”
Cristal-not-her-real-name had cocaine, slava Bogu. His favorite. She had come prepared. He snorted three lines off her concave belly, beneath demarcated ribs that rose like mountain ranges, before licking a dusting of fine powder from each of her nipples. He found nothing else about her attractive except for those two rosy points. She was too thin, too invested in forgoing food for drugs. She couldn’t possibly think she competed with the standard crop of puck bunnies, who dressed like proper gold diggers in designer clothes and full makeup, their hair arranged in flawless waves (often extensions, an accidental discovery during a night of enthusiastic anal with hair-pulling) over their shoulders.
