by Callie Hart
“Louis, you must be pretty damn proud of this boy of yours. One tour in Afghanistan is one thing, but two? That’s damn patriotism right there, if ever I saw it.”
“Yes, my son, the war hero,” Louis says. To an outsider, it might look like he’s agreeing with the Texan’s comment, but Rebel hears the sarcasm just as well as I do. He stiffens, his back ramrod straight.
“I only ever turned out to be the man my father intended me to be,” he tells the Texan. “I was sent off to military school on my thirteenth birthday. It was natural that I’d want to enlist properly once my education was complete.”
“Yes, that’s right. And what did you do when you were in the army, James?”
“I was a Marine.” He hardens his jaw, lifting his chin, daring his father to say anything about that.
“Hoo-rah,” the Texan roars, laughing. He’s so drunk he’s completely missing the antagonism taking place between the other two men. “Marines are the backbone of the US Armed Forces.”
“Yes, of course. Though, coming summa cum laude in his class probably should have meant he was the brainpower of the US Armed Forces instead of a glorified grunt.”
The governor’s tone catches the Texan’s attention now. “Oh, come on now. Some people don’t like taking an officer’s promotion without feeling like they earned it. I respect that.”
“You’re too kind, Mason. But my son’s had an easy upbringing. I’m afraid he’s all too used to having things handed to him.”
Rebel’s eyes flash with hatred and he thrusts his drink into his father’s chest. Louis automatically catches hold of it, a look of murder in his own eyes. “Fuck. You,” Rebel grinds out. “I suppose I became a Marine and put myself in danger every single day I was out there just to spite you, then? Is that it?”
Louis raises his eyebrows, his mouth drawing downward in that sour, unimpressed way of his. “You’re not calculating enough for that, son. You’re just like your mother was—reckless and…and foolish,” he says, taking a deep pause in between words. After all that he’s said, after all that he warned, he is the one starting trouble at his own event.
Rebel makes a disgusted sound at the back of his throat. “You’re pathetic,” he tells his father as he pushes past him. I can feel the Texan gawping at us as I hurry after Rebel, pushing through the crowd of men. Their hungry eyes and wolfish smiles feel like they’re burning into my skin, making me feel dirty. I catch sight of Rebel heading through a door at the rear of the formal dining room, vanishing from sight as the door closes behind him. He’s waiting for me when I follow after him. His hands are on me the second I step through the door.
“Fuck what I said earlier. Fuck waiting for you to make the first move. I can’t do it.” His lips crash down on mine, his hands tightening on my waist. My breath feels like it’s being pulled from my lungs, making me dizzy as I let him walk me backward, pressing up against the wall behind me. I was expecting him to be angry. I was expecting him to need calming down. I was not expecting this.
“Rebel, I don’t…I’m not sure this is the best—”
He grabs hold of my hair, winding it around his fist and drawing my head back. “Do you want me to stop, sugar? Do you not want me to sink myself inside you?” I can feel just how badly he wants to do that when he presses his hips up against mine, his solid hard on digging into my stomach. He pulls my hair back further, so that my neck is there for his taking. He lowers his mouth halfway to my skin, his eyes never leaving mine. They spark with fury and lust, combining to create something powerful and overwhelming. “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you ’til you’re screaming and I’ll let you go right now.”
A hot shiver travels through me, making my body feel suddenly weak. God, this can’t be happening. Here? Now? It doesn’t seem right. I look over his shoulder, seeing that we’re in an empty corridor, completely and utterly alone.
“Well?” Rebel growls.
“Fine. I do. I do want you,” I gasp. Admitting that is the final breaking point. I’ve crossed a line, a dangerous one, but right now, here in this moment with his body flush against mine and my skin burning up, I can’t seem to make myself care. Rebel growls again, the rumble vibrating through me as he descends on me, licking and biting at my neck. My head’s pounding, my blood surging through me, filled with adrenalin and endorphins.
His mouth on me feels amazing. His hands roaming all over my body, his powerful arms bracketing me in place against the wall. The pressure of his cock, demanding and hard against me as he grinds his hips upward. All of it feels incredible and wrong and I don’t want it to stop.
“Take off your dress,” he commands.
“I…I can’t. Someone might come.”
“They won’t,” he says. His voice is heavy with need, his hands already pulling at the material of my dress. “This is a servant’s walkway. Everyone’s out on the floor, doing their jobs. No one will come.” I don’t get any further say in the matter. Rebel rips the dress up over my head, leaving me standing in front of him in nothing but my underwear. He makes a stifled groaning noise as he leans back and takes me in.
“You’re fucking perfect. So fucking perfect.” Dipping down, he runs his tongue along the swell of my cleavage, his mouth hot on my body. “Do you want me?” he asks, his breathing coming even quicker than before.
I tell the truth, because it’s all I can do. “Yes.”
“Do you want me to possess you? To make you mine?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” The very prospect has been the one thing I’ve been afraid of since he took ownership of me from Julio, but now I’m desperate for it. Begging him, just like he said I would underneath that oak tree.
He’s upset. He’s pissed off and boiling with anger, but that just seems to add to this undeniable attraction I feel coursing through my veins. “How badly do you want to touch me?” he rumbles.
“Really…really badly.”
“Then undress me.” He steps back, tilting his head back, challenging me yet again, not just to allow this to happen but to participate. To prove to myself that I do want this. I slide my hands over his chest, up the front of his white dress shirt, and then underneath his black suit jacket. His mouth twitches, either with the beginnings of a smile or with amusement at the way my hands are shaking. He doesn’t tease me, though. If anything, the look in his eyes is keen with curiosity, waiting to see just how far I really will go. I pull his suit jacket over his shoulders, my heart slamming erratically as I feel the hard ridges and planes of his muscular back underneath my fingertips. His physique is hard won. Five years at military school, two tours in Afghanistan and the years he’s been running the Widow Makers can’t have been easy. I’m definitely reaping the rewards of his labor.
His suit jacket hits the floor. I start working on the buttons of his shirt, aware of his eyes burning into my flesh. Another bolt of adrenalin zigzags through me when he leans into my neck again and whispers, “If you don’t hurry up, I’m gonna have to take you fully dressed.”
My hands move like lightning, ripping at the remaining buttons, then at the material of his shirt. I’ve been covertly checking him out for days now, trying not to, trying not to get caught at least, but once his shirt is gone now I can’t help myself. I drink him in the same way he’s been drinking me in, eyes hungry, barely able to look away.
He is perfection. There isn’t a spare inch of fat anywhere on him. I run my hands up and over the bird tattoos on his chest, hesitant but determined at the same time. His breath blows hard across my cleavage, making me break out in goose bumps. “I need to feel your tits up against me, Soph. God, they’re fucking amazing.” He makes quick work of freeing my breasts from my bra; his fingers barely skate over the clasp before he’s ripping the straps down my arms and throwing my underwear to the ground. I’m almost naked; only my panties remain. Rebel grinds his body against mine, pushing me even harder into the wall. He dips down, his mouth moving over the skin of my neck, my collarbone, my chest and then my breasts. I
gasp as he takes my left nipple into his mouth.
Fire ignites in the pit of my belly, roaring, sending flames in every direction, burning me up from the inside out. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, Rebel, I need you.” My head rocks back, my body feeling boneless. Rebel’s hands work their way over me, investigating and exploring every last inch of me. His fingers move down, down, down until they’re hovering over the lacy material of my panties.
“Are you ready for me, Soph? Am I gonna find you soaking wet and desperate when I play with your pussy?”
No one’s ever referred to it that way before. Only certain men can say pussy and own it without it sounding sleazy or plain weird coming out of their mouths. When Rebel says it, the word sends heat and electricity charging in between my legs. “Yes. I’m wet for you,” I whisper. “Please, Rebel. Please.”
I can feel him getting harder against me, his cock straining at his pants. Rebel lifts one eyebrow, a ruinous smile teasing at his lips. “If you’re lying, sugar, you should know…you will be punished.”
I have no idea what form of punishment he has in mind but I’m not sure if it’s the bad kind or the good kind. Is there such a thing as a good kind? My head says no, but by the way my body reacts, it might just know something I don’t. “I’m ready. I want you, Rebel. Please. I can’t…” I can’t wait much longer. I’ve never reacted to anyone like this before.
With Matt it’s always felt nice, but in the same vein it has felt rote. Like we’re going through the motions, having sex every three days because that’s an appropriate amount of time between adventures. With Rebel…fuck, with Rebel, I feel like I’m going out of my mind. I don’t think any more of Matt. Alexis was the girl who belonged with him. I haven’t wanted to admit it, but Alexis is gone. She might as well have died right alongside Rebel’s cousin in the alleyway back in Seattle. Now, I’m Sophia, and there’s no way she and Matt would have a future together. She belongs to Rebel, the man standing in front of me, looking at me like he’s about to screw me into oblivion.
I start fumbling with his belt, determined to get his pants off him. Rebel slips his hand down the front of my panties, and my hands suddenly still. I can’t move, can’t react, can’t breathe. His fingers find my clit right away—no fumbling around, searching. He makes a guttural, animalistic sound at the back of his throat.
“Oh, sugar. You weren’t joking, huh?” Sliding his fingers back, he draws his pointer finger and his middle finger through the slick folds of my pussy, and then he brings his hand up to his mouth. I’m paralyzed as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, humming, the vibration of his vocal chords traveling through his chest into mine. “You taste fucking amazing, Soph. I can’t fucking take this anymore.”
Unfastening his belt and tearing down his pants, Rebel does what I couldn’t do the second his fingers touched me between my legs. His cock springs free, swollen and way bigger that I’d anticipated. I’m no prude. I’ve not exactly had a vast number of lovers, but I’ve seen a cock before. And Rebel’s is way above average. I feel dizzy just looking at it.
Rebel takes himself into his hand and slowly pumps up and down. He hasn’t removed his shoes, so his pants remain around his ankles. That would look ridiculous on someone else, but somehow he pulls it off. I can’t take my eyes off his hand working up and down his smooth, slicked flesh. “See something you like?” he asks.
I look up at him, not trusting myself to speak. I can only nod my head.
“Take your panties off, Sophia.” Complying, I shimmy the small, barely there material down my legs, kicking them off. While I’m losing my underwear, Rebel’s still stroking himself; he pauses for a moment to roll a condom down over his hard-on, completing the movement with practiced ease. His eyes scour my body, taking every inch of it in. “Now press your back against the wall again.”
I step back, doing as he tells me, my chest heaving. Rebel comes for me, then. There’s no more foreplay, no more talking. He moves up against me and places his hands directly under my thighs, lifting me from the ground. My legs wrap instinctively around his waist, tightening when I feel his cock press up against my pussy. God, I want him. I need him so bad. His hands are everywhere, all over my skin, in my hair. He grinds himself upward, rubbing against my sensitive clit. His lips finds mine, and the two of us breathe our need into each others mouths, panting, tongues skating over each other as we kiss.
He takes hold of my jaw lightly in one hand, holding my head in place so that I’m looking at him. “Look me in the eyes, sugar. I wanna see into you,” he says.
I can’t take it. The intimacy of staring into his eyes as he slides himself up against me is too much to bear. I can’t look away, though. I could close my eyes, but there’s something in the way he’s staring at me, so intense and focused, as though I’m the only thing he sees or cares about in this moment. I already know, deep down in my bones, that being looked at like that by him will be an addiction I won’t be able to shake. “You ready to get fucked?” Rebel growls.
“Oh, god. Holy fucking shi—” I cut off when he pushes into me. My mind goes utterly blank. He feels…he feels huge for that first few seconds. Way too big, I feel like I’m going to burst. Rebel freezes, stilling himself, allowing me to get used to the feeling of him inside me. My nipples burn in the best way, my breasts crushed up against his naked chest. It feels amazing. My whole body feels amazing. I feel my pussy tighten around him, reacting to his presence, and Rebel growls.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have done that. You really shouldn’t have done that.” There’s a dark, sinister look in his eye as he slides himself out of me and then pushes back in again, harder this time. Gripping hold of me in his arms, he starts up a rhythm, slamming himself into me harder and harder each time.
I can barely breathe. I taste blood in my mouth—I’ve been biting my lip hard enough to break the skin. Rebel’s right hand finds its way into my hair again. He jerks my head back, still inside me, still filling me with himself, and bites at my neck. He’s not careful about it. I’m definitely gonna be left with a mark. Right now, I could care less, though. I want him to mark me. I want him to make me his. I know with a hollow, terrifying certainty that I’m never going to want to be anyone else’s ever again.
Rebel’s thrusts grow even faster, his fingers digging into my skin. “You want to come, Soph? You wanna come all over my dick?” he groans.
“Yes! Yes!”
“Then get ready. I want you to break apart in my arms, okay? I want to be the only fucking thing holding you together. Let go, Soph. I’m right fucking here. I ain’t gonna let you go.”
If I’d thought he was driving me crazy before, then what he does next completely blows me out of the water. He slides one hand in between our bodies and he begins to stroke my clit in tight circles, sending wave after wave of pleasure racking though my body. He slows everything down, sliding himself out of me with torturous patience and then carefully pushing back inside.
Pinned up against the wall, my legs still wrapped around his waist, I can do nothing but cling onto him and take it. He has me trembling, on the brink of tumbling over the edge in less than a minute. I tighten my hold on him, staring into his eyes again. He’s hidden himself from me since the second we met, barely told me anything that I’ve wanted to know about him, but while he’s inside me, while he’s connecting with me like this, I can see who he is perfectly. It’s like he just said—he wanted to see into me. I can see into him, and I feel like I recognize him. Like he’s the piece of me that’s been missing all this time and I never even knew it. It’s a scary, overwhelming realization. He gives me a scandalous smile, and fire races through my veins.
“That’s my girl,” he pants. “I can feel you tightening around my dick again. You gonna come for me?”
I nod, my eyes shuttering closed. My body feels taut as a bowstring as I feel the first swell of pleasure rushing up through me, building, building, building until I’m screaming out his name.
Rebel puts his hand over my mouth a
nd pulses inside me, gritting his teeth together as he comes, too. “Holy fuck, sugar,” he growls. “You’re so fucking tight.”
His climax overtakes him then, so that he’s leaning his forehead against my shoulder, thrusting hard into my body. I hold him to me, wanting him closer, more a part of me, more fused to me as our bodies ignite.
Eventually, our breathing slows. Rebel lifts his head, that reckless smile plastered all over his face. He’s always so cocky, always so sharp-eyed and suspicious, but not now. Now, he folds his arms around me and places me carefully on the ground, looking distinctly pleased with himself.
“I think half my father’s guests might have heard that,” he says softly.
“Is that why you did it, then? To cause another scene? Get back at your father?” That thought makes me feel less than special. If I’m honest, it makes me feel suddenly very vulnerable, very sick. Rebel grazes his fingertips across my collarbone and down over my breasts, still able to make me react to him. “No, sugar. I did that because I’ve been desperate to ever since I laid eyes on you. I did it because it’s all I’ve been able to think about for fucking days. It was going to happen eventually. You know that as well as I do.”
And he’s right. He’s telling the truth. Reaching down in between my legs, he traces his fingers lightly over my pussy, growling deep and low in his chest. I know I’m wet from him, slick with my own orgasm. He seems to take great pleasure in rubbing his fingers through my wetness, sliding them up inside me, even sliding them further back, circling his finger around my ass, coating me with myself there, too. No one has ever touched me there before. A spark of embarrassment, coupled with excitement charges through me.
“You’re mine, now, Soph. For as long as you want to be, you’re mine. And I’m yours,” he tells me. “That okay with you?”
I feel paralyzed. I know what I want to say, but I can’t bring myself to part with the words. I’m not ready to. I don’t know why I feel so strongly for him, and that scares the living crap out of me. If I say it, if I tell him yes, it will feel like I’m walking blindly into something I have absolutely no control over.
