by Katee Robert
I can’t help kissing her. I don’t even bother to try to resist the impulse. I simply take her mouth. Part of me expects her to fight this like she’s fought everything else up to this point, so I’m surprised when she digs her hands into my hair and wraps her legs around my waist.
Maybe that’s why I forget myself and sink into the feeling of her tongue tangling with mine. Kissing her feels like coming home, which doesn’t make a damn bit of sense, but I’m too drugged on the taste of her to question it.
With her heels digging into my back, I thrust against her. I’d give anything in this moment to not have these fucking leather pants on, but a promise is a promise, and letting lust drive me is a mistake. Tink will try to top from the bottom if I give her an inch of leeway.
That’s why I break the kiss. I could spend hours memorizing the taste of her, the feel of her, but every second pushes me closer to forgetting myself.
I can’t allow it to happen.
Her whimper is music to my ears, and I waste no time sliding down her body and pressing her thighs wide. She’s wet and pink and perfect, and my first lick is heavenly.
“Oh fuck.” Her fingers touch my hair, but she hesitates.
She’s waiting for permission.
I lift my head enough to hold her gaze. “Hang on to me, beautiful girl. You’re going to need an anchor before I’m finished with you.”
She doesn’t need to be told twice. She digs her fingers into my hair and lifts her hips to my mouth. My second taste is even better than the first. I let myself sink into exploring her, my entire being focused on what touches draw that breathy little gasp from her lips. And then I keep doing it until she’s shaking and trying to wrap her thighs around my head. I keep her spread open and pinned in place, loving the way she pushes against me as she tries to ride my mouth.
When she comes, it’s with a soft cry that’s so vulnerable, I want to gather her up and shield her from the harshness of the world. A foolish desire, even if it wasn’t concerning this woman. No one is safe from the world, especially if they’re in my bed. Tink least of all. I’m part of the reason she’s not safe. I’ll hurt her. Not physically—I’ll cut off my right arm before I raise a hand to this woman—but I’m intentionally putting her in a position where she’s in danger.
Some days I wonder if I’m actually better than Peter, or just a different shade of monster.
I move away from her clit, gentling my touch and letting her come down. I’m not finished yet. I need to escape from the shadows flicking through my mind as much as she does tonight. From the way her fingers flex in my hair, she’s more than willing to meet me every step of the way.
Good.
I wait for her breathing to settle a little, and then I begin again. I play with her pussy until she’s sobbing and writhing, until she’s not thinking of anything but me. Not fighting. Not the future. Nothing but the slow slide of my tongue against her clit.
“Jameson.”
There she is.
I move up her body and shift so I can cup her pussy. It’s not meant to drive her back up again. It’s a claiming, pure and simple. “Every time you fight me, I’m going to make you come so hard, you can’t see straight.”
She blinks those big eyes at me. I’m gratified when it takes her two tries to speak. “That’s a really shitty punishment.”
“Is it?” I trace her opening with my middle finger. “I don’t care where we are, Tink. I don’t give a fuck who’s around. I’ll shove up your skirt and suck that pretty little clit of yours until you’re a sobbing mess.”
Another of those slow blinks. “You wouldn’t.”
“Test me.” I have no shame, and she should know that by now. Playing this game with her is more than worth it.
“I …” She frowns and licks her lips. “We’re going to fight about this later.”
“Then you’ll be riding my face later.” I press a soft kiss to her lips, tracing the path her tongue just took. “Let’s go home.”
She tenses, but relaxes as if deciding it’s not worth the effort of arguing. “Okay.”
I climb off her and take a second to adjust my cock. Her gaze follows the movement, but I shake my head when she opens her mouth. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Think about what?” She sits up and hell if the sight of her doesn’t take my breath away. She’s naked, her hair a tangled mess from all the fucking, her pale skin flushed from desire. She’s perfect. She catches me checking her out and spreads her legs a little, giving me a good look of where I had my mouth just seconds ago. Tink’s hand drifts down. “Think about how hard your cock is? About how good it’ll feel to be filled by you? About you fucking me until … What was it you said? Until I see the face of god?”
“Tink.” I sink enough warning in my tone for her hand to stop its descent. “You touch your pussy without permission and I’m going to put you over my knee and paddle your ass.”
She freezes. “You’re shitting me. You don’t get to decide when and how I touch my own goddamn pussy.”
“You heard me.”
“You bastard.” She says it slowly, almost wonderingly. “What if I decide coming is worth a little spanking?”
I’m on her before she can react. I grip the back of her neck and shove three fingers into her. “This pussy is mine, Tink. Mine. I will take care of it—take care of you—for as long as that’s true.” I fuck her ruthlessly with my fingers, and her eyes flutter as she fights the pleasure. “If that means I pass you around until you’re covered in other men’s orgasms like the little cum slut you are, then I will make that happen. If it means fucking you morning, noon, and night until you can’t see straight, I will do it happily. If it means strapping you to a sex saddle until you come so many times, you pass out, I’ll enjoy the fuck out of it.”
“Oh shit.” She loses her battle with desire and grabs my biceps, holding on as she comes again.
I force myself to still, to not keep going until I’ve worked out my frustration on her pussy. It takes a few seconds longer than it should, but I finally release a pent up breath and ease out of her. “I will take care of you, beautiful girl. But you will follow my orders. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispers.
“Good girl.”
I dress Tink in leggings and a black sweatshirt that has a picture of Krampus printed on the front, both provided by Meg when I left the room earlier. Tink just watches me like a deer looking down the barrel of a rifle at a hunter, unable to quantify the threat.
I could save her the trouble and tell her my plans. I won’t. As unsure of me she is … The truth is that I can’t trust her either. Not beyond her hate of Peter and her lust for me.
Socks and boots follow, and then I stand and pull her to her feet, keeping a hand on her hip to ensure she stays there. She’s still a little wobbly, which satisfies a deep, dark part of me. I won’t deny that I want to stamp my name on her ass so she remembers who owns her, but this is the next best thing. I take a moment to grab the dress and shoes she was wearing earlier and then it’s time to go.
The second we walk out the door, I scoop her into my arms. Tink goes rigid. “Put me down.”
“No.”
“I’m too heavy.” She flinches as soon as she says the words, but I ignore both as I stride down the hallway to the public playroom. People are in various stages of scenes and fucking, but at least a handful of eyes follow us as I pick my way through the space to the door on the other side. Good.
Let them look and know that this is real.
No matter what else is true, no matter what other lies we tell, this is real.
It just may not be till death do us part.
Chapter 12
Tink
My world has gone topsy-turvy in the last twelve hours. Marriage. One of the hottest scenes I’ve ever participated in, and I’m not talking about the five-some. Being the center of Hook’s attention—and when we’re together, I truly am the center of his attention—is ex
hilarating and terrifying. He makes me want to push against the line he draws in the sand just to see what he’ll do.
He makes me want to obey without question.
I’m still spinning when the car pulls up in front of his building. He opens the door and helps me out, every inch the courteous rogue, as if an hour ago he wasn’t finger fucking me while he threatened a gang bang. I still haven’t decided if it was meant as reward or punishment. I get the feeling that Hook enjoyed scening with the other Doms as much as I did. That he likes to watch as much as I like to be in the spotlight.
Between one blink and the next, we’re inside the elevator. Another blink and we’re in his room. I’m weaving on my feet, the events of the last few days catching up with me.
I make a beeline for the bed, but he hooks me around the waist and turns us toward the bathroom. “You’ll sleep better this way.”
“Your shower is amazing, but I don’t want to sleep in it.”
“Smartass.” But he says it fondly. “You have two minutes, and then we’re getting ready for bed.” He nudges me into the bathroom and shuts the door.
I take care of business and peek out the door to find him standing there … naked.
I stare. I can’t help it. I know I should be aloof and unaffected, but holy shit, he’s so gorgeous I can barely stand it. His lean body is carved with muscle from his shoulders to his calves. I nibble my bottom lip as I eye his thighs, lightly dusted with dark hair. I’m not a biter, but I have the sudden impulse to become one.
And then there’s his cock.
He’s perfectly sized. Long and thick, and I just know he’ll fill me in exactly the way I crave.
I take a step forward before I catch myself and look up to find him watching me with a single raised eyebrow. I manage to dredge up a glare. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re saying it with your cock. Knock it off.”
Hook snorts. “For someone who says she doesn’t want my cock, you’re staring at it awfully hard.”
“It’s pretty.” Whoops. Didn’t mean to say that aloud. But now that it’s out there, I can’t help wanting to make one thing clear. “You said my pussy was yours.”
He goes still. “I did.”
“That’s some archaic misogynistic bullshit, but it works for me, so don’t stop.”
He barely seems to breathe. “And?”
The words stop up in my chest, but I’ve gone too far to back out now. This is part of the negotiations I didn’t think to include when we were rushing to the altar and then to Hades’s club tonight. I lift my chin. “If my pussy is yours, then your cock is mine.”
“Agreed.” He says it far quicker than I anticipate. “Are you saying you don’t want to share it?”
Am I saying that?
I shake my head before the thought reaches completion. We covered this before. I know we did. But it was barely theoretical at that point, and now it’s all too real. “I liked Gaeton sucking your cock. I would have really liked watching you fuck his ass. The group sex stuff is fun.” I give myself another shake. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”
He smiles slowly. “My cock is yours, beautiful girl. I won’t touch anyone else unless we’re in a scene and the boundaries are clearly defined.” His smile widens. “Naturally, you don’t get to ride my cock until the terms are met. But you have my consent to touch to your little heart’s delight.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re just looking for a hand job.”
“Maybe I’m just looking for you.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I back into the bathroom before my mouth can betray me yet again. Then I stand there, feeling out of sorts, while Hook works his truly impressive shower. It’s got six shower heads—two on each side and two overhead. He leaves the overhead ones off but turns the others on. Standing in there will be a bit like standing in a really sexy car wash. I can get on board with that.
I reach for my sweatshirt, but he gets there first. “Let me.”
“I’m twenty-five. I’ve been dressing and undressing myself for a very long time.”
“And yet I’ve only been dressing and undressing you for a few hours.” For all that, it doesn’t take him long to get me naked. When I agreed to this, I expected down and dirty fucking. I didn’t expect the gentleness and … care. I don’t know what to do with the latter. It’s not within my frame of reference. Aftercare is one thing. I know how to handle that. This is something else.
He nudges me into the shower, and I let him, still muddling over why this feels so damn different. It’s not until he’s pouring my shampoo into his hand that it registers. I jump back, nearly slipping on the wet tile. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” He sounds so mild, it makes me feel like I’m overreacting.
I know I’m not overreacting. “You’re trying to tame me.”
His eyebrows damn near disappear into his hairline. “You’re not a horse.”
“No shit, I’m not a horse. You can’t just fuck me and take care of me and expect me to fall all over myself to please you.”
Just like that, his expression crinkles, and he loses it. His laugh booms through the space, bouncing off the tiled walls. “You have some funny ideas about the ownership of a horse.”
“You know what I mean!”
“Yes, beautiful girl. I know what you mean.” He steps to me, and I freeze, but the only place he touches me is my hair, gathering it carefully in his big hands and massaging the shampoo into it. “I’m not taming you. I’m taking care of you.”
“I know aftercare. This isn’t it.”
“Isn’t it?” He tilts my head back to rinse my hair, his expression contemplative. “Call it what you want. I like to do it, so I will. That’s reason enough for me.”
I might strangle this man. I truly might. “You don’t get to just decide that you want to do something and then do it. That’s not how the world works.”
“That’s exactly how the world works for the powerful. You know it as well as I do.” He studies the bottles I stashed in the shower earlier. “Conditioner?”
“I can—” I sigh when he ignores me and repeats the same process he did with the shampoo. “I don’t want this.”
“Then use your safe word.” He takes longer with the conditioner, working it through my wet hair until all the tangles are smoothed out.
I realize I closed my eyes without intending to and open them. “That’s for scening.”
“Wrong. That’s for us.” He’s silent as he rinses my hair. “I like my lines blurred, Tink. All except for that one.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “So, what, you want me to submit all the time? We already talked about this, and you damn well know that’s not what I signed up for.”
“I want you to communicate.” He contemplates me for a moment and then steps back to begin his own washing process. I try to tell myself that the sinking feeling in my chest isn’t disappointment. I watch his muscles bunch and move as he soaps his hair and beard. He ducks under the spray and drags his hand over his face when he’s rinsed. “Since you’re incapable of talking without biting and snarling, your safe word is the only no I’ll listen to.”
“Get ready to hear it a lot.”
He grins, and I hate that my stomach gives a happy little jump at the mirth on his face. “Guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
We finish showering in silence. By the time we dry off and brush our teeth, I’m so tired, I don’t have the energy to fight him when he pulls me into his massive bed and tucks his big body against my side.
I stare up at the stars visible through the thick panes of glass overhead and listen to Hook’s breathing even out. His arm is heavy across my waist, but for once, I don’t mind.
There’s one lie I never let myself believe; the lie where I tell myself that I’m finally safe. I’m not. I’ve never been safe. Not in foster care, no matter how seemingly kind the household. Certainly not with Peter, when eve
ry breath felt like it was on borrowed oxygen, an increasing price that I’d never be able to pay. Even in Hades’s household, there was always the deadline hanging over my head. I’d let myself believe the expiration date might not matter so much, and look where that left me.
I can’t afford to believe the lie here.
Hook fully intends to use me as bait. The whole point of bait is that it gets plucked right before the trap springs shut. He cannot guarantee my safety, even if he is inclined to try. Letting the fucking and weird aftercare go to my head will only backfire.
I’m so goddamn tired. The kind of exhaustion that spans years, rather than days and months. Decades, even. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve been exhausted from the moment I drew my first breath and the woman who birthed me promptly gave me away.
As if sensing my mood, even in his sleep, Hook draws me closer and nuzzles my temple. The heat of him steals through my body, relaxing me muscle by muscle despite myself. I only intend to close my eyes for a moment, but the next time I open them, dawn steals across the sky overhead.
It’s beautiful, like a painting made just for me. I didn’t expect this kind of romantic thing from Hook, though he didn’t create this room with me in mind. He must have done it for the sheer joy of sleeping under the night sky. It’s frivolous, but I appreciate it all the more for it.
I roll over to find him on his back, his face and body still relaxed in sleep. He’s beautiful in the way a lightning storm is beautiful. Gorgeous and deadly and overwhelming. He’ll level me if I give him half a chance.
The smart thing to do after last night is put as much distance between us as possible. Hook isn’t offering me anything beyond revenge. Getting my emotions mixed up just because he happens to be a good Dom and seems invested in my pleasure and emotional well-being—at least where fucking is concerned—is a mistake. Once the threat Peter represents is eliminated, Hook will have no more use for me.
I don’t know how annulling a marriage works. We haven’t had sex by the most Catholic of definitions, which I’m pretty sure is a requirement. But even if an annulment isn’t an option, divorce always is. I’ve survived this much. A divorce is barely a speed bump.
