Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline)

by Sparrow Beckett

  “I need you.”

  “You should safeword when you can’t take anymore.”

  “But I don’t want to disappoint you.” She hadn’t meant to say it, but she couldn’t seem to control those sorts of feelings around him.

  “You won’t,” he whispered, and the words felt like they held more meaning.

  He kissed her and put his arms around her, careful to avoid the bandage on her back. In one smooth movement he’d rolled her on top of him. With his mouth hungry on hers, he grabbed her hips and slid her down his body.

  “I’m wearing a condom,” he said as he urged her body into accepting his cock. She was glad he was a gentleman, because she hadn’t thought to ask. On top of him, she writhed, in a rush to get him inside her, but it was awkward with the blindfold. So big, but she wanted him so bad. When he was deep inside her, he hissed, holding her still with a firm grip on her ass.

  “Don’t move.”

  She whimpered, trying to be good, but her clit was mashed up against his body, and if she moved just a little . . .

  “Addison,” he growled, smacking her ass, almost making her come from the surprise of it. “Stop it.”

  “I’m not doing anything.” Nothing other than trying to hold onto her sanity.

  “You’re trying to make me lose control.”

  “Not on purpose. I’m trying to be good.” Her breath was coming in shallow gasps, and she struggled to be still, but oh god, she needed to rub against him. His cock was like living steel, pulsing inside her, and she could feel the strain in every line of his hard body. She was elated and light-headed and only marginally in control of her body. “Please, Fox. I need to come so bad.” Her body was vibrating with the effort of staying still. Why did he always have to make her wait?

  He grabbed her hips and thrust up into her, making her scream with sudden, unexpected pleasure. For an eternity he held her there, forcing her body to take as much as she could, her pussy fluttering around him, breathlessly waiting for the next thrust to shove her over the edge to orgasm. The moment lasted a moment longer than she could bear.

  “Please!” she begged.

  “Fuck,” he gritted. Self-control lost, he withdrew and thrust into her again and again, controlling her body with a cruel grip on her hips, fucking her hard enough to hurt in delicious ways she knew she’d still feel later.

  For now nothing mattered but the mastery of his body over hers, being in his control, swept up in the fury of his lust, unable to escape even if she wanted to. She came, then came again, trying to hold on but having no hope of controlling him, raking her short nails down his broad chest. Swears and grunts filled the room, and somehow she found herself beneath him, facedown, flat on the bed, with his cock pummeling into her G-spot.

  Oh god, he owned her, whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not.

  Her mind shut down and he took what he needed. A litany of dirty thoughts streamed into her ear from his mouth, until it was impossible to tell her own thoughts from his. Such horrible, thrilling things he still wanted to do to her body, even as he found his release.

  When he had finally finished, her body sated from more pleasure than she thought was humanly possible, he pulled off the blindfold and kissed her long and deep, then curled his body around hers like she was something tiny, in need of his protection.

  “Are you okay?” he rumbled, stroking her with a gentle hand.

  “Better than okay.” And worse. So hopelessly, helplessly worse. But it wasn’t the time to worry about that.

  The devastatingly tender feelings for him didn’t go away, even after someone strolled past their door, applauding.

  Chapter 8

  “Shit!” Fox pulled the car to a sudden halt in the parking lot of Jimmy’s Auto Repair. Their buddy’s shop was almost unrecognizable. Glass and debris littered the asphalt in front of the building.

  Luke and Atlas turned to look at him as his car approached, then went back to surveying the damage. Jimmy was pacing circles in the parking lot as he talked on the phone. Thank god Jimmy was okay, other than looking pissed. What did the text message Fox had received earlier meant then?

  The shop windows were smashed to pieces. The heavy garage doors were bashed in and splashed with pink and orange paint. Inside the shop, shelves and big toolboxes had been pulled down, their former contents scattered across the floor with the broken glass. Oil and other automotive fluids had been dumped out on top of scattered paperwork, and empty jugs lay where they’d been thrown.

  Fuck. What a mess.

  Jimmy used to complain that he was too far from the city for good business but today being away from the Strip was an asset. No questions. No onlookers. No police.

  Why bother? They all knew who’d ordered this attack.

  He punched the steering wheel. Fuck. This was his fault.

  Luke and Atlas watched him, waiting for him to get over his shock and get out of the car. Jimmy stalked around the property, as if cursing and grumbling to himself was going to undo what had been done.

  They’d put this to rights and then hire a guard for the place.

  With a deep breath, he opened the door and got out of the car. “Damn it,” he murmured upon seeing the damage up close.

  “Those fuckers,” Atlas said between clenched teeth. “Tell me we can retaliate.”

  His brother and cousin both looked to him for answers. For revenge. He was their leader—always in control—but tonight he felt so fucking helpless. If they retaliated, it might just make things worse, but if they didn’t, they’d seem weak. They already had a reputation for being pussies because they refused to carry weapons.

  The text had come while he’d been taking apart a motor in the garage.

  Take your partners and leave. Or next time I’ll do worse to someone more important than your mechanic friend.

  Shit. Where was Carlos?

  When he and the guys had first moved to the area, Marcel had approached him, all smiles and businesslike charm. He’d asked them to join his team, and even offered their choice of position. But Fox wasn’t the type to take orders, and his brother and cousin didn’t exactly play well with others either. So they’d turned Marcel down, preferring to work on their own as they had since their uncle and his crew had retired.

  Marcel didn’t want to share the area, saying it was too small for two rings to operate, but that was bullshit. Fox’s group worked with completely different buyers. They only moved a few cars a month. There was plenty of business for both of them.

  He’d thought they’d reached an unofficial agreement with Marcel. They’d been sticking to the north side of the city without incident until recently. His objections had started with subtle threats and sabotage, but Fox had never thought it would lead to this.

  “Where’s Carlos?” he asked, his stomach twisting. Hopefully, he had the day off. But if their buddy was dead, there was no way the others would be this calm.

  Luke answered. “He’s at Sunrise Hospital.”

  He could feel his blood pressure spike. Carlos was so young. Please let it not be serious.

  “The doctors say he’ll be fine,” Luke continued. “He was here when it happened. Might be in a cast awhile though.”

  God, he was such a bastard. This was all his fault. They’d been friends with Jimmy and Carlos since they’d set up here. They played poker either at the shop or their place every week. It’d been hard keeping business and personal separate but he’d thought he’d hidden his private life from Marcel. Until now.

  Fuck. What a mess. Guilt ate at him. Why the fuck would Marcel go after these guys?

  But to retaliate would only lead to something worse. The last thing they needed was an all-out turf war. They weren’t violent criminals and he didn’t want to head in that direction.

  So where did that leave them?

  Addison came to mind, small and
vulnerable, looking up at him from her knees. Marcel had said he’d do something worse to someone more important. Maybe he’d meant his father and uncle, or maybe his cousin, although they all had safety precautions in place.

  But what if he knew about Addison? Had Marcel’s bitchboys been following him?

  He clenched his fists. What if Addison was in danger because of him? She acted all tough, but she was more vulnerable than she thought. He couldn’t live with himself if something happened to her. He’d gotten too sloppy. She’d be pissed, but no way would he let her be involved in the business now. Her safety took priority.

  Jimmy walked toward him, stuffing his phone in his pocket.

  “I’m so fucking sorry,” Fox said. He gave Jimmy a hug and his friend thumped his back. “We’ll get you fixed up again. I know a guy who’ll start tomorrow, and I’ll get some security here for tonight. I’ll make this right.”

  Jimmy stepped back and shook his head. “It’s not your fault, man. It was nice of you guys to come by, but this isn’t on you.”

  “It is.” He ran a hand through his hair, surveying the mess. Half of the tools were probably fucked. “You’re not paying a dime. If it wasn’t for us, this would never have happened.”

  “Seriously.” Luke slapped Jimmy on the back. “Don’t bother arguing.”

  “Yeah,” Atlas agreed. “It’s the least we can do.”

  “And we’ll be taking care of Carlos’s hospital bill too,” Fox added.

  Apparently Jimmy knew better than to argue because he walked off, mumbling something about stubborn fucks while looking at his phone again.

  Atlas turned to Fox. “What do we do now?”

  Good question. He had a lot to think about.

  ***

  Sleep deprivation didn’t look good on him. Fox had been avoiding his reflection, and wondered if Addison would take one look at him and safeword before hightailing it back to her car. He felt like a zombie and he was pretty sure he looked like one. Between helping the contractors with the cleanup at the shop, and visiting Carlos at the hospital, they were all running on empty. He needed to sleep for about twenty-four straight hours.

  But Addison was on her way over, and they needed to have a serious discussion. Before the mess had happened with Jimmy’s shop, she’d insisted on taking him on a picnic lunch today while they talked about the next job. A picnic. The woman apparently spent far too much time on Pinterest.

  She’d been so adorable about it, though, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her it wasn’t really his thing. But she’d be there, and she was bringing food, so he’d agreed.

  But in one night, everything had changed. Telling her he wouldn’t be training her anymore seemed wrong to do by text so he’d waited to say it in person. Now his stomach felt like it was eating itself.

  Luke and Atlas had fucked off for a while to scope out a high-end car storage facility. It housed a few of the more exotic cars on their current order sheet. Now he sat at the kitchen counter with his computer and coffee, pricing new windows for Jimmy’s shop.

  Addison was going to be pissed, but her safety was more important than her temper. With Marcel acting crazy, he just couldn’t risk it. He wasn’t sure what to think about the sudden protective feelings that had come over him in regards to her. It wasn’t like this with other girls he’d dated or fucked. Addison inspired something in him—an intense . . . affection . . . that made him desperate to protect her. His obsession with her was becoming a major distraction, but he couldn’t make himself think of her as a liability.

  The doorbell rang.

  He gathered his resolve and walked from the kitchen, through the foyer, and to the front door. When he opened it, she greeted him with a sunny smile. Her cut-off denim shorts were too short to be legal. God, he loved her legs.

  “Hi!” She was holding a picnic basket, and looked like a grown up Little Red Riding Hood on her way to her granny’s house. Only she’d just ended up at the wolf’s den instead, and smelled good enough to eat.

  Her brow furrowed as she looked him over. “Are you okay? You look a little . . . tired.”

  “Come in,” he said, moving to the side.

  “Okay.” She walked into the foyer then chuckled nervously. “Did someone steal your woman and shoot your horse or something?”

  “Something like that,” he murmured. “We need to talk.” After hesitating a moment, he pointed to the kitchen. “Come sit down.” He hated to ruin the day with this but he didn’t want it hanging over his head. Plus, he’d be terrible company and he wasn’t sure he could pull it together even for Addison. Not until he made things right with Jimmy, and not until he figured out what to do about Marcel.

  Addison’s face paled. “Is this a breakup speech?”

  “What? No.” He walked to the kitchen, hoping she followed. It wasn’t a breakup from his perspective, but who knew what she’d do when he told her what was on his mind? “Have a seat. Can I get you a water or coffee or anything?” He’d brewed a whole pot earlier and drunk nearly half of it already.

  “I’m okay.” She chewed her bottom lip as she sat down on the stool.

  That wave of protectiveness rushed him again, making him want to hold her, to shield her from danger and hurt. Maybe even to save her from himself. It made no fucking sense, but not much did today.

  “I don’t want to stop seeing you, but you may not feel the same way after I say this,” he said, standing on the other side of the counter. “I know you really want to work on the team, but I’ve changed my mind. You have to stop stealing cars, Addison. It’s not safe.”

  For a moment she just stared, as though his words weren’t computing. Then her eyes went from wide to narrow. Wow. She was even hot when she was pissed.

  “Fuck you, Fox. That’s not your call.”

  “It’s up to me who we do and don’t let into the group.” He sighed. Just as he realized how that had sounded, she bristled. Fuck. Maybe he should have rehearsed this. “Addison, listen . . . You’re a smart girl. You have a promising future. This is dangerous work—”

  “Oh my god!” She slammed her hands on the counter. “I should’ve known this would happen. I’ll never be good enough for you, will I? You’ll never think of me as anything more than a stupid little girl looking for a rush. So what—you just kept me around this long because I put out?”

  “It’s not like that. I—”

  She rose from the stool. “It is! It’s about respect. It’s about control.” Her face was red and her eyes wild. “You’re not even gonna let me try to prove myself. Admit it, you were never going to give me that chance.”

  He sighed, debating whether to try to hug her or not. But he had to let her know it was done, and she was out, even if it meant she would hate him. And she would hate the thought of being coddled, no matter how much he wanted to soften the blow. This wasn’t sex or aftercare, this was the job.

  “It’s over. No more stalking me, no more bets, no more fun and games. You have to stay out of the business side of my life. Entirely.”

  Her lips pressed into a thin line and she looked like she was trying hard not to cry. Go figure, she was too damn stubborn to cry. He squashed down the urge to gather her in his arms and kiss her pain away, pretty sure that would get him smacked.

  “If you can’t respect me enough to work with me, Fox,” she said quietly, “then I don’t see how we can be . . . whatever we are. Saying you’ll let me try then just changing your mind is really low. Without trust and respect, this thing I thought we had going is completely meaningless.”

  “It’s not about trust or respect—”

  “Yes, it is! Why can’t you just admit it? You don’t trust me.”

  He growled, his frustration rising. She wasn’t even letting him explain. “I’m trying to tell you something important, woman.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, you wanna keep me saf
e.” She rolled her eyes. “Either you’re way overprotective or it’s just an excuse to keep me out. I’m over it.”

  “There’s more to it than that.”

  She moved for the door but he followed her.

  “Addison!” he said sharply when she reached for the knob. “There’s a reason I’m doing this. There’s some bad shit going down.”

  Before he could say more, she slammed the front door behind her. He couldn’t decide whether it was better to give her space or to stop her and try to convince her that he did fucking respect her—that he just didn’t want her to end up like Carlos, in the hospital with a broken leg. Or worse, in the morgue. He wished he knew her better so that he knew exactly what to say. Sometimes Addison could be a loose cannon. It was exciting and addictive, but also made it harder for him to know how to respond.

  His dominant urges pushed him to make her stay so he could give her an explanation, but by the time he got over his hesitation and went to the door, her car was a flash of chrome barreling down the driveway.

  “Fuck.” A string of profanity followed as he watched her car disappear into the distance, but words weren’t enough. There needed to be better swears to express the kind of frustrated, despondent anger that made his thoughts dark and his hands shake. He turned back to the kitchen, grabbing a vase he hated off the breakfast bar and smashing it against the wall, but the shower of painted glass was unsatisfying. In the end, it was ridiculous and immature, and just another mess he had to clean up.

  Chapter 9

  Don’t cry, Addison. Don’t cry.

  If he was watching out the window while she stormed down the front walk and to her car, she didn’t want him to see weakness.