by Jo Raven
He nods, silent.
“You’ll be safe. Trust me.”
He shakes himself free of my hold. “Will innocent people be hurt? How exactly does the Russian Mob shut down an MC? Will Simon die?”
“Are you…?” I frown. “Wait a sec. Are you worried about Simon after all he put you through, after he threatened you and your friends?”
“No, I’m not worried. Hell no.” His dark brows knit.
“Good.” A weight lifts off my chest. For a moment, I thought he’d tell me not to touch Simon, like some Stockholm syndrome reaction. The guy tortured him. He deserves a lifetime of pain for it. “He has to pay for what he put you through.”
Jason swallows so hard his throat clicks and looks away. “He’s my cousin. But it changes nothing.”
I nod, and pretend it’s news to me. “There’s something I have to ask you, Jase… Was it him who put the scars on you? Because then I’ll kill the bastard myself.”
His back goes rigid. He braces his hands on the table edge. “No. I only met him a few years ago. These are much older.”
“Okay.” I force myself to stay calm. “Was it your parents?”
A shudder runs through him. “No. I don’t know. Fuck, I can’t remember.”
Shit. “Are your folks still around?”
He shakes his head.
I reach for him but drop my hand before he sees it. Don’t push him more now, Raine. “Mine are crooks who would suck me and Ocean dry if they could, and God knows they’ve tried. They’ve never cared beyond themselves.” I force myself to keep going, looking for any signs of him relaxing. “So I didn’t have a stellar childhood by any stretch of the imagination. But there were kind people at the trailer park where I grew up, apart from my brother. Crazy Jo, before she got too crazy. Skinny Anny.” I let out a deep breath. “Livvy.”
He turns then, his gaze uncertain. “Show me,” he says.
“Show you what?”
Last time this was code for sex, but even as he closes the distance between us, shoves me up against the counter and pushes up my T-shirt I know it’s not that. “Let me see. Your scar.”
“Knock yourself out.”
His rough fingertips trace the upraised scar, then the words on my chest, over my pounding heart. Livvy’s name.
He draws back, lashes shadowing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” My voice is raw, like my feelings.
“Your friend.” He leans in, brushes his mouth over mine, presses his chest and his half-hard dick into me, and I’m lost in his taste. All too soon, he steps back, moving away again, his eyes distant. “I didn’t lose anyone. Didn’t have anyone to lose. Not that I can remember of. I don’t know much about loss, but I know about pain, so I’m sorry.”
Goddammit.
“Wait.” He says such heartbreaking things sometimes, and I’m not even sure he realizes. I open my arms. “Come back here.”
He shoots me a suspicious look. “What, we doing that hugging thing again?”
“Yeah. Told you. I like holding you.”
He frowns, and hell, he looks cute when he’s confused. He grumbles something I don’t catch, hesitates, but then he does comes over, and I fold him up in a tight hug, relieved. This is better. He’s getting used to me. To my touch. To gentleness.
“I’ll be doing this every day,” I say against his soft hair. This is a promise. “Hugging you, holding you. Every day, and every night. That’s what happens when you’re my boyfriend. When you let me be your family.”
“It does, huh?” he whispers, his face mashed to my shoulder, but his voice is small.
I lift one hand, stroke the back of his neck. He likes that, a shuddery sigh leaving his lips, and my throat goes tight. “Yeah.”
He eventually shifts, and I realize he’s getting fully hard, his cock pushing into my hip. He lifts his head and grins at me. “So, this boyfriend thing… what else does it mean? Like, do I get to fuck you, too?”
I take him on the sofa, from behind, sinking into him slowly, letting him feel me. He’s on all fours, rocking back, his muscular ass clenching around my cock.
“God. Raine.” He shudders as he leans back more, taking my cock in all the way. “So good.”
Wrapping an arm around his middle, I lean back, hauling him against me. My cock sinks in deeper, and his ass clenches again, milking me, drawing a groan from my throat. Even through the lubed condom I’ve put on, I feel the burning heat of his body.
Good? Just good? This is downright crazy. I’m about to shoot my load, and we’ve barely begun. Leaning against the backrest, I wrap my other hand around his throat, feeling him swallow, then trail my fingers up, over his chin, over his mouth. I slip two fingers into his mouth, and he moans around them, sucking.
Ah fuck. Electric shocks shoot from my fingertips straight to my balls, and I roll up my hips, thrusting into him. He bites lightly down into my flesh and my dick jerks.
Shit, not yet. I pull my fingers out, cup his jaw and tug until his head drops back on my shoulder. He’s panting, thighs trembling as he lifts up and sinks down on my hard-on. Another choked moan escapes him, and I wonder how it would feel if he fucked me, if I was the one impaled on his cock. How that pierced dick would feel inside me, stretching me, filling me up, driving me crazy with need.
Yeah, I’d bottom for him, even if I’ve never done it before in my life, and the thought makes me even harder.
“Raine.” His strangled whisper has me reaching around, stopping his hand from touching his cock. “Need to come.”
“Not yet.” I pull his hand back and lift it to his pierced nipple. “Play with this first.”
A low moan is my answer as he starts tugging on the piercing, but I feel the way his body responds, tensing and tightening around my dick.
My mouth opens, but I can’t find words for this pleasure, this wanting. It’s never been like this for me, ever. His body arches, his harsh breaths filling my ears, and suddenly I know I need to see his face. Have to see his expression when he comes, feel his dick pulsing between us.
“Jase.”
“What?” He’s trembling, and I know he’s so close he could come without either of us touching his dick. “Holy fuck...”
That as I slowly push him off my cock. “Turn around. Face me.”
“Why, what…?” I pull on his arm until he complies, stiffly turning to straddle me with his dick poking me in the chest and his legs folded up at my sides. “Dammit, what the fuck are you doing?”
“This.” I cup his face. “Love you, Jase.”
Not expecting him to answer—he never does—I reach between us, grab my condom-covered cock and push back into him.
His earrings glint when he shakes his head from side to side, baring his teeth, but he spreads his legs and lets me in. He groans and twists as he takes my cock, his hands sliding up my shoulders to loop behind my head, his back bowing.
His dick jumps between us, soaked in precum, the metal of his piercing warm against my skin.
“That’s right,” I grunt as he trembles, so fucking tight, so fucking hot around my cock, “this is it.”
His mouth is impossible to resist. I press our lips together, but he pulls back, mouth open, panting. His eyes close, dark lashes throwing shadows on his cheekbones. He rocks, those lean hips rising and falling as he rides me, and I remember the first time I fucked him, on the armchair, just like this.
And yet nothing like this at all. He’d been turned away from me, then, and I couldn’t see his face.
I can now.
Expressions play over his face as he moves—surprise, tension, pleasure. His brows dip over his eyes, a flush spreads on his cheeks, and his hands tighten at my nape as he rocks faster. His cock slides against my stomach, diamond-hard, leaving trails of moisture.
This time he’s feeling it all, the tension, the pleasure, the heat. His skin’s warm, his dick twitching.
“You feel me?” I breathe, and grip his hips to slow him down. �
�Feel this?”
“Goddammit,” he hisses, blunt fingernails digging into my back. “I feel you.”
“In here.” I inch a hand between us and tap on a firm pec, on top of his heart. “Feel it?”
His head dips forward, and he shudders. “Yeah.”
That quiet admission lights up my blood. I drop my hand to his hard-on and give it a squeeze that has him moaning loudly. I flick my thumb over the wetness of his cockhead and use the moisture to slide my fist down to the base, then back up, stroking him in time to my thrusts.
He’s rocking again, his ass massaging my cock, his breath hissing between his teeth. He’s lost in the rhythm of it, and that’s so fucking awesome, and so hot to see, but I want him in the moment, in the here and now.
With me.
His dick is soaked, so hard it has to hurt, and his eyes are scrunched shut as he fucks himself on my cock. He’s about to come, I feel it in the taut tension in every line of his body, and I’m about to fall with him.
“Jase, look at me.”
“Don’t stop,” he whispers. “Don’t stop.”
“I won’t. Open your eyes.”
He blinks slowly, his lashes wet. His eyes are pitch black, the pupils dilated with desire. He meets my gaze and a jolt goes through him.
He comes with a cry, spilling over my hand, spraying our chests. I capture his gasps with my mouth as my cock jerks and I lose control, thrusting hard into him and holding, pumping my hips once, twice, and again.
Black spots dance in my eyes as I give his mouth one last lick and release his lips so we can both catch our breath.
He falls against me, boneless, and I gather him up in my arms, dropping a kiss on top of his head. “Okay?”
He whispers something I don’t catch.
I stroke his hair. “What was that?”
“This is better,” he whispers, this time the words crystal clear. “than any of my dreams of you.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jason
The TV plays on, and I’m sitting on the sofa in a pair of Raine’s sweats, watching with half a brain. The sweats smell of him. Everything smells of him, and I’m half-hard just remembering his kisses, his touch.
Everything he said. Everything he made me feel.
But the longer I sit here, the more the outside world intrudes in on my thoughts. It’s Monday morning, Raine’s at work, and I’m left simmering in my own doubts.
Not about Raine. Strangely, I don’t doubt him anymore. I trust him. I believe him. When he says he wants me here, he’s not lying, and I… I miss him, have missed him since he left this morning.
I frown at the TV and its news of violence somewhere in the world. Wanting Raine is one thing. This new sensation in my chest every time I think of him is different. It’s lodged deeper than anything I’ve ever felt in my life.
Shifting on the sofa, I look for the remote and shut the TV off. I rub my hands over my face. Okay, Jason, stop panicking. It’s no big news that you care for Raine Storm. And if the intensity scares you, well tough.
Worry about the bad stuff, not what is good in your life.
Right. Okay. So to my doubts. See, the thing is, I’ve been a prostitute all my life. For as long as I remember, in any case, and it looks like those days are over.
Not that I’m gonna miss them. A shudder wracks me, and I lean back with a sigh. Not for a sec. But if I’m not going back to that as a means of income, then what I’m gonna do now? What’s a street urchin-turned-prostitute without a diploma or any other qualifications and work experience to do for a living?
Beats me.
And that’s the least of my worries. Even if I trust Raine—which I do, I really fucking do—what about Simon? Sure, the Russian mafia will take him down.
Will they?
I rub at my bare arms, suddenly chilled. I don’t care if the Mob pounds Simon to pulp. If I ever saw him again, it would be way too soon. But will they catch him? Will it be okay, despite Raine’s and everyone’s best intentions?
Maybe it’s the time I spent at the Club, the heavy locks and the violence, the sense of helplessness and the rushing high of the drugs that make me think Simon is indestructible.
The drugs. The coke. Damn… I close my eyes. I can live without it.
Can’t I? Live without that rush. Every time Simon cut me off, I went stir-crazy—but this time I have Raine. I can do it.
And then there’s what Simon said last time, about him keeping tabs on me and my gang, about knowing where everyone is at any given time. Implying things I don’t wanna think about. Lies. Fucking lies.
Then I think of Raine going after Simon and I sit up, my heart pounding. Shut up. He’s not going after him. The mafia is. Right?
Maybe I’m so out of sorts because I haven’t heard from Adam, or Mayleen, or any of the people I sent away. Sure, I never got around to getting another phone, but they could have sent me word on the street. It’s like a giant game of Chinese whispers. Yeah, sometimes info gets scrambled up during transmission, but I’d know if they reached their destination in one piece.
Wouldn’t I?
Fuck. Unable to sit there any longer, I jump to my feet and go to the kitchen. Raine said I can eat whatever’s in the apartment, and my stomach rumbles, but I close the fridge without grabbing anything.
I sit at the kitchen table instead and look outside the window at the gray sky. It’s the sitting around all day thing, I decide. I’m not used to this—a warm, cozy apartment and nothing to do. No difficulties to keep my mind busy, no hunger and cold and pain to distract me. Even my bruises are now turning yellow and starting to fade. The cuts I got are healing, only itching sometimes.
It’s a good life. A nice little break. I should enjoy it until I find some sort of job and start contributing to the budget.
And look at me, not freaking out, accepting that I’ll probably live here, with Raine. Look at me smiling at the thought.
Jesus. I chuckle, looking around at the nice little kitchen, and remember kissing Raine against the counter. We’ve already broken in most of the rooms. Not this one, not yet.
Guess that does kinda make it like a home to me, huh? All that breaking in.
It’ll be fine, I decide. Everything. It’ll work out. I just need to stop worrying so damn much. Take it a day at a time. With Simon gone, so much is possible that I didn’t dare hope for in years. And with Raine by my side…
Heat creeps up my neck and I rub a hand over my smiling mouth. Yeah, together with Raine… I could learn to be happy.
The doorbell rings in the late afternoon, as I stare at my clothes and few belongings spread out of Raine’s bed—still not sure about calling it our bed—trying to decide what’s salvageable. Are there occasions in normal people’s lives calling for stretchy, sparkly tops?
I scratch at my arm, at the scars there, and shiver. Hush, little baby, hush… God, that lullaby will haunt me forever. On some days, I wish I could remember what happened to me, why I’m scarred inside and out. Who sang those goddamn words to me.
But on other days I’m grateful I don’t remember. It’s time to turn over a brand-new leaf. Start anew. Release my ties with the past and look to the future.
With Raine.
The bell rings again, and I sigh, stalking out of the bedroom to get the door. “Forgot your key?” I call out, grinning, as I reach the hallway. “Just a sec!”
I peek quickly through the peephole, just in case, and do a double-take. The guy’s old, with pepper and salt hair and beard, but there’s something familiar about his eyes.
I step back from the door, my skin crawling.
“Open up this door!” the man calls from behind. “Or I’ll open it myself.”
The fuck. I retreat toward the bedroom, then change my mind and get into the kitchen. Knives. I need a knife. The idea of calling Raine crosses my mind, but I’m already in the kitchen, and the apartment door rattles like it’s about to come off its hinges.
Holy fuck. I ope
n a drawer, then another, looking for a blade. I grab a promising-looking knife—and a crash from the living room fucks up my coordination and I drop it.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” the man calls. “Come out, Jason.”
Ah shit. What the hell?
As the guy appears at the kitchen door, I step back and hit the counter. Nowhere to go.
“Who the fuck are you?” I whisper. “What do you want? Did Simon send you?”
He’s dressed in a cheap black raincoat, jeans and ratty loafers. His eyes keep shifting, and the tremor in his hands tell me he’s either scared or high.
“He sure did. He’ll pay me good money for you, too, money my sons were too stingy to hand over, even when I promised them I’d hurt those close to them. Selfish, don’t you think?”
I can’t speak, rooted to the spot. Damn, I must’ve fucked up badly in a past life.
“Yeah.” He turns to look at the door. “Look how stingy my son is. He should have invested in a lock you can’t pick with a credit card. Then again… if I’d known he was a faggot back when, I’d have killed him myself.”
Holy shit, he’s nuts. Quickly I bend my knees, reaching for the knife lying on the floor, even as his words seep in and I realize who he is.
