The Token 7: Thorn (A Token Novel)

by Eros, Marata

  She backs away, and I drop my hand.

  I want to explode.

  Simone scoots onto the kitchen table and puts her heels up on either side of her ass, giving me the show my dick's been begging for.

  Her panties bisect the lips of her pussy, and I'm on her.

  That's all it took.

  Rational thought leaves me and it's all fingers, mouth and cock.

  Mine inside her, on her... my lips move along her jaw while my hand presses her hips forward from the small of her back.

  Simone groans, and it makes my raging hard-on bob, spurring me on like extra fuel in an engine.

  I jerk her hips forward as I spear her with a finger. Her hot cunt cinches around my finger like a vice, and a strangled sound erupts.

  I realize it's coming from me.

  I sound like an animal in heat as I pump that digit inside her. She leans back on the table, and I help her, sliding her ass closer with my free hand. I stab her cunt, and my thumb swings up to her clit.

  Salt and pepper shakers roll off the table and bounce.

  We ignore them. Simone uses her hands to push the halter top aside. She tweaks her own nipples, and my eyes zero in on her.

  “Like that... no, lower,” Simone commands.

  I become a compliant male. A first.

  My thumb dips lower on her clit, flicking and rubbing in fast circles. I'm rewarded by her breathing picking up.

  “Oui...” she whispers.

  I almost stop what I'm doing.

  But I'm so in the fucking moment, I can't.

  “Stick me—right now,” she says.

  My prick nods as though acknowledging the awesome suggestion.

  “No condom.”

  Her purse is beside her, and she tears a small package out of it. I don't question why she has a condom in her purse.

  I take it with my free hand, tearing the wrapper with my teeth.

  Holding it in my mouth, I jerk my pants down. My cock sighs with pleasure at escaping the prison of my jeans.

  I roll the condom down me, and she slaps my cock with her hand.

  It hurts.

  I love it.

  I won’t be gentle.

  Then she says, “Fuck me hard, Thorn.”

  Jesus. I gulp air that’s suddenly not there.

  My hands tremble on her shoulders.

  I aim my cock at her pussy and slide in with a push that impales.

  We cry out together, and I open one eye to make sure I haven't actually hurt her.

  She squirms against me, slamming herself on me.

  “You're gonna make me cum,” I say. “Stop.”

  “No.” Her eyes challenge me.

  I land on her, my knees straddling her thighs, and pump inside her. I use her shoulders to drive her against me, and I feel my neck tense, my head falling back.

  Simone's hand is between my legs, her finger running along that thin line that separates my asshole and cock.

  I'm using her good, pumping in her tight snatch and getting close, when her finger rims my asshole.

  Exit only, I almost scream.

  But with a delicate thrust, her finger enters. My sphincter squeezes on absolute instinct, and my orgasm jets out, slamming me from behind like a traitor.

  I cum hard from the ground up. Simone's finger is in my ass and my cock's in her pussy.

  She screams as I come inside her, her pussy pulsating around me.

  We're locked together in frozen ecstasy, and I feel as if I've blown a fuse, that I've left my body.

  The sheer tactile connection is complete, our bodies frozen in a pulsating frenzy.

  It slows, and precious oxygen fills my lungs. I might live.

  Her finger slips out of me, and my cock softens inside her. I straighten, looking at the red marks I left on her collarbone from gripping her.

  My eyes travel down her body, and I see the evidence of everywhere I've been.

  Simone looks so soft and fucking amazing, spread out underneath me.

  When I meet her eyes, I get a feeling I've never had before.

  I can't stop it from starting, but I squish out the tenderness as it germinates like a fucking seed ready to sprout inside me.

  It was an amazing lay. Fucking spectacular.

  But it's just fucking.

  She smiles, and that soft feeling tries to rear its head again.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  “Don't look so conflicted, Thorn,” Simone says.

  I feel my eyebrows rise as I tuck my junk back in my jeans.

  “What?” Conflicted, my ass. I feel as though I can take on the world. I'm reconciling my shit as I stand there.

  “It's just sex.”

  Simone sits up, bringing her dress down demurely and crossing her legs, resting backward against her palms.

  She’s blown me away.

  “What?” I nearly shout.

  This is not how shit's supposed to go.

  No way.

  6

  Simone

  His face is precious.

  “What?” he yells.

  I feel myself give a little secret smile in response. Thorn isn't used to not being in charge. That much is clear. I'm an expert at hiding how I feel. When it's a matter of survival, you pick it up. Either Thorn hasn't needed to learn that in his life of naked girls dancing on his lap, or he's genuinely surprised.

  It's nice to be the user instead of the usee. I love turning the tables.

  I measure my breathing as I do during a run. Control that, and the face goes with it.

  He's a gorgeous, well-endowed man, and he took me just as I like to be taken. He cooperatively came a geyser when I plugged his ass.

  Also ten levels of hot.

  That won't get me the job, but it was a helluva an orgasm. My love parts are still deliciously warm and throbbing from his huge dick.

  I pop off the rickety kitchen table that almost didn't survive our tryst and head to the kitchen sink to wash my hands. Time to clean up.

  I hear the trash can pop open for the condom. I still haven't answered his insulted, one-word question.

  Large hands fall on my shoulders as I dry mine on a towel hanging by a hook on the cabinet.

  Thorn moves my hair aside to lay petal-soft kisses on my neck, and I shiver. God, he's good.

  That's why he needs to go away.

  I move away from that wonderful trail of tenderness and turn to face him.

  “So why did you really come?”

  He grins. “Because it felt fucking hot as hell.”

  I can't help but smile at his brash honesty. He's such a tough man... but somehow, there's a tender little boy inside him. When he's not hiding, I see him in there.

  I mock shove Thorn, and he grips my wrist. I meet his eyes and stand on my tiptoes.

  I can tell he thinks I'll kiss him softly, so I ravage his mouth, my free hand gripping his ass and hauling him forward against where he just was.

  “God,” Thorn breathes out.

  I release him. “Answer.”

  He frowns, dropping my wrist. “I wanted to see if you were cool after the bullshit with Grady.”

  I lift my shoulders, using my lack of response as a weapon. Men expect women to fill awkward silences. I've had an unconventional upbringing and don't fall into that trap.

  I see his frustration when the mine field I present gets dicier.

  “I'm fine,” I say.

  “You almost kicked our asses.” He folds his arms and stands expectantly.

  I shrug again.

  He puts a thumb to his chest, then points at me. “Didn't we just fuck? Or am I imagining things?”

  I shake my head, definitely not imagining, and he gazes at my hair as it slides across my bare breasts I didn't bother to cover up.

  His breathing ticks up, and I level my eyes on his. Thorn collects himself, his hands clenching into fists. I'm playing with fire.

  Thorn is a violent man, but I don't think he’s violent toward wom
en.

  I usually don't have sex with woman beaters, though I've misjudged.

  That was before.

  “Where's Grady?” I ask.

  He blinks, his fingers loosening.

  “Gone.”

  I take a leap. “Do I still have a job?”

  He barks out a laugh. “Yeah.”

  “Good,” I say.

  Thunder passes over his face like a storm cloud. “Did you do me to get the job?”

  I search his face, weighing my response.

  “Yeah,” I lie and shrug.

  The little boy leaks away. It's devastating to see him go and also a relief.

  I can't keep a man. They're untrustworthy and good for only one thing. Thorn was very good at that one thing.

  Very.

  My mouth waters just thinking about it.

  I hadn't done him to get the job. Work hadn't even been on my mind. I'm not ready to inspect what had been in my head too closely.

  Introspection is for people who want to improve through self-analysis.

  I just want to survive.

  I’m a bird with a broken wing. When I heal up, I'll fly away.

  Emotions cross Thorn's face until he settles on one: indifference.

  I steel my heart. It's better this way.

  “Come here,” he says, cupping his hand at me.

  I sway over to him, my high heels well-used.

  We stare at each other for the space of a few breaths.

  He looks from my head down to my toes.

  “You're a beautiful woman, Simone.”

  A crack begins in the glass of my heart.

  He tugs me into his body. I don't resist, but I don't help either.

  One large hand covers my ass, and my leg rises to his hip. His palm slides from my butt cheek to the inside of my knee, and he jerks me closer.

  I gasp. I wasn’t expecting that, and my head tips back from the sudden motion. Thorn captures it with his other hand, and his lips land on mine.

  They're as soft as mine were hard on his before. He moves over each centimeter of my plump lips, swollen from the passionate kisses he leveled on me earlier.

  His mouth moves to my throat as his hand slides from my hair to mid-back. His other hand lets go of my leg and cups my sex hard, tramping down on my clit.

  It throbs, begging for more.

  He suddenly releases me.

  I stumble back, unguarded and aroused. I feel warm from the love of his hands and mouth on my body.

  He smiles, and it's cruel.

  “I don't fuck the help.”

  It's like a physical blow. I clamp down on my expression. The effort is ugly; the ice of his words fills my veins.

  I lift a shoulder in a parody of the lack of care he just demonstrated. “Whatever.”

  He stares at me for a pregnant moment and nods before scrubbing his face. Thorn can't hide his frustration, and I smile.

  I’m still winning.

  He's too volatile to pretend as well as I can. Not enough practice.

  “Fine.” Thorn tears his gaze away from my body.

  I stroll to the door, my heart beating so hard I can barely hear my heels click. I slide the bolt and hold the door open.

  I turn, and he's right there.

  He moved right behind me, and I let my guard down.

  I flinch back. Stupid, Simone.

  Thorn gives me a thoughtful look and runs a finger along my jaw then down my throat. His fingers spread over my chest. I feel every fingertip like a small flame.

  “I won't hurt ya.”

  I nod. I can't trust myself to speak, but I already know he’s right. I'm pissed by how fast I turn dumb when he's around. It's like my IQ falls to double digits in Thorn’s presence.

  He steps away. “Show up tomorrow at seven. I think I can get Kiki to swing by and show you the ropes.”

  I smile though I feel like crying. It's a such a surreal feeling I need to take a deep breath to steady myself.

  His eyes are sharp on my face, and I cast mine away.

  “You mean poles,” I answer and look back at him.

  “Yeah.”

  He stands still, filling my open doorway. He's such a large guy, his shoulders almost touch both sides of the door jamb.

  An erotic image of him driving against me as I hang on for dear life springs up in my skull.

  Thorn gives a slow blink, studying my face. “Fuck it,” he growls and jerks me to him.

  His tongue stabs my mouth, and I moan in husky response. I don't even try for silence. It's as if he knows every sensual button to press. As though I sent him a list before we met, and he's going through it from top to bottom.

  Thorn pushes me up against the wall by my throat, torturing my mouth, and I begin to lose my breath.

  I don't ask him to stop. His hips press into my center, and I feel his cock split me.

  I give a little desperate gasp. Begging for air.

  Begging for more of the same.

  Thorn lets me go and stares at me for one second.

  His fists rise, and I feel my eyes widen before his hands pound the wall on either side of my face.

  “You make me crazy,” he says with soft menace.

  I stand there mute and definitely dumb.

  Thorn pivots, stalking away. He latches onto the doorknob as he moves through the threshold, closing the door.

  The click is loud in the stillness of my apartment

  My heart races as I look at the closed door. Shaky fingers whisper over the lips he just kissed.

  I jump when the upper door slams.

  Only after a full minute ticks by do I realize his last words weren’t uttered in English.

  My lips part in surprise.

  French.

  7

  Thorn

  I get the fuck out of that apartment before I do or say something that'll do in my Thorn goal: Never, under any circumstance, let a fucking woman own me.

  I can't count how many one-night stands I've had. Dozens upon dozens.

  Simone wasn't a one-night stand or part of any plan.

  She's a tornado. I got in her path, and she swept me up.

  I slam out of her trashy apartment, leap up the short flight of stairs and burst out of the complex door. I suck in a lungful of shitty Seattle air like a drowning man.

  I can't suspend my relief to be outta there; it washes over me in a cleansing sheet of rain.

  I look around, paying attention to the neighborhood for the first time. It's up the viaduct's ass. Bad hood.

  I glance over my shoulder at the door I just came through.

  I wrap my palm around the handle and try to tear it open.

  Locked. I jiggle it, and it holds.

  Okay, Simone has two doors she's safe behind.

  My hand drops from the handle. So why in the blue fuck does it bug me?

  Because it makes me anxious as hell to have her unprotected.

  I gotta get out of here.

  My hands get crammed in my jean pockets as I stride down the littered sidewalk. I don’t look left or right, but I’m keenly aware of surreptitious movement around me. No jag is going to get a piece of Thorn.

  A chunk of it is already missing, courtesy of Simone Balland. I'll be Swiss cheese if I keep this up.

  *

  Thorn

  “Maybe he doesn't want to be found, Thorn,” Kiki says logically, her dark eyebrows arching.

  She makes sense, but that prick is responsible for some of the horror I can't shake.

  He tried to fuck up my mom.

  She's worm bait now, and he's a part of that. Rex didn't slide the needle in her vein, but he made her a prisoner. Dependent.

  I escaped the hood, and in killing one of two serial killers responsible for Rose McKenna's death, I'd been falsely imprisoned at barely eighteen.

  A grim smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. No one had gotten a piece of Thorn then either. Prison had been child's play compared to my childhood.

 
When Tag and the other boys in blue figured out the truth, setting McKenna up to exonerate me, it was with an eye toward using me. That was the first time in my shitty life someone aside from Mick had placed trust at my feet.

  I allowed the exploitation.

  It enabled me to become who I wanted to be. Now I’m Thorn, not some statistic where people see a black man and assume the worse. I know what I am. I'm from a crap area, a tough street with tougher people, but I'm more than a number.

  Kiki snaps her fingers in my face.

  I wake up from my thoughts as if I'm dreaming.

  “Quit it, Kik.”

  She shakes her head, hoops twinkling and spiral curls bouncing. “Nuh-uh.”

  I smile. No one could easily categorize her either. I know her mom's black. I've caught a glimpse of her; she’s dark like me. Kiki looks like a sister... but nah, she's got some white in her. Or Euro.

  Euro makes me think of Simone, of course.

  Now she has some interesting genetics. I want to know more. I don't need to know more.

  “Listen.” I turn to Kiki and she folds her arms over her tits. Somehow. They're double Ds.

  Thorn knows tits.

  I love tits. I remember Simone's in the palms of my hands.

  “God, are you, like, here? You okay?” Kiki asks. Not out of concern but of the pissed off at you, not listening variety.

  “I'm okay, just distracted.”

  Kiki’s eyes chase the dial of her jumbo white wristwatch. “Well, ya better get undistracted because Simone will be here any damn second.”

  I know. It's driving me nuts.

  “I'm trying to pool our resources,” she says. “Haven't you tried to find out…” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “I mean, you're an undercover cop. Don't you have ways?”

  I laugh, folding my arms and leaning my butt against the desk. “It doesn't work like that, Kiki.” I scrub a hand over my short hair. The curl is coarse, springing back under my fingers.

  She blows a chunk of hair out of her face and puts her hands on her hips. “Well, how does it work, Thorn?”

  I roll my eyes, asking for heavenly intervention. When I look back at Kiki, she's still waiting. “Tag's in charge of that. He's at the shop, gets his tech dick hard with all the crap.”

  I see Kiki make the connection, her face lighting up. “That's how you got to Simone!”