by Kati Wilde
Fuck. I drop the weight into the cradle and sit up, frowning. “How’d you know that?”
“Because he came out to the barn. Which was fine”—it’s not, it’s fucking not fine, but she’s telling me—“although a heads-up would have been nice. Especially since I wasn’t sure what to think. I know he bailed on you and your mom, but I didn’t know the circumstances of him coming back. So I didn’t know whether you invited him, or what your intentions were while he’s visiting.”
“I don’t have any intentions. And I sure as fuck didn’t invite him.”
She goes still, watching me warily. “All right.”
Shit. I need to dial my anger back. Knowing Carlisle sought Jenny out has me seeing red, but I’m worrying her now. More evenly, I tell her, “If he comes around again, just let me take care of him, princess.”
“Take care of him—you think he’d hurt me?”
“It doesn’t matter. This is what I’m telling you to do.”
Ah, hell. That was a mistake. Her chin goes up and her eyes flash venom. “You’re telling me, are you?”
“I am. This is club business,” I say because she grew up around her dad and she knows not to question that—and so this should end it. “It doesn’t concern you.”
“Fine,” she says tightly.
Then she’s gone. God damn it. I head out after her, but she’s fast. So fucking fast. By the time I get up the stairs she’s sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed and hauling off her boots.
One goes whizzing by my head.
I jerk to the side and stop short. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Jenny?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
“Nothing is what’s bullshit,” she spits back. “Because that’s what you’re telling me. Nothing. But you call it club business to shut me up even though this obviously does concern me, because he showed up at my goddamn door! So fuck you and your ‘Just let me take care of him, princess.’”
She whips her other boot at me. Her aim is shit but she might as well have drilled me right through the chest. Taking care of her is all I’ve got to give. And it fucking kills me when it’s not enough.
My blood pounding, I grit out, “I didn’t want his coming here to hurt you.”
“Oh?” Her brows shoot up and she’s still pissed. “So you do think he’d hurt me. Yet I don’t get a heads-up for that, either? No, ‘Jenny, hey, my dad’s around and maybe he’ll come up and smack you—so if you see him, go the other way’?”
White rage bursts through my head. “Did he fucking smack you?”
“No!” She throws her hands up. “I’m just saying, I had no idea what to expect! Because you didn’t say anything, even though you’re telling me now he might hurt me!”
“Not hurt you like that. Fucking Christ!” I rip my hands through my hair, stalk to her closet and back. “It’s the fucking holidays, Jenny. Red’s gone and you’re still bleeding over it. What am I supposed to say? Sorry, princess, I know your dad’s gone but my worthless piece of shit dad just showed up?”
Her eyes are huge and her jaw tight as she stares at me. “Trust me that I would never resent you having something I lost.” Her breath shudders. “So is this your plan? You’ll just keep me ignorant of everything you think might hurt me?”
Is that so fucking bad? “I will if I figure I should.”
“So maybe you’ll tell Hashtag’s dad to stay away, too. Or Uncle Thorne, because he reminds me of my dad all the time.”
A hot burn fills my chest. That’s shit I would never do. I can’t fucking believe she’s saying I would. With anger vibrating through me, I head for her. Next time she’s going to look me right in the goddamn face as she says it. Arms crossed beneath heaving breasts, she tilts her head back as I come, her cheeks flushed and her jaw set.
“You’re skating real close to the edge, princess,” I warn through clenched teeth. “I’m not talking about Thorne or anyone like him. My dad’s a diseased dick who cons women out of everything they own.”
“And you think I’m stupid enough to fall for his shit?”
Fuck, no. I don’t think the women he takes advantage of are stupid. I think they’re probably too trusting. Or generous. Or hurting. And Jenny is two of those. “I just don’t want you to have anything to do with him. I don’t want to have anything to do with him, but we owe his prez a favor so my hands are fucking tied.”
“Then say that! Just tell me you hate him and hate knowing he’s around, and I won’t go out of my way to be friendly. Jesus, Saxon. I’m not going to get into your business. I’m not going to ask what the favor is.” In frustration she shoves against my chest but I don’t go anywhere. “Just stop wrapping it up in some nice little package about club business and telling me it’s for my own protection!”
I just don’t see how it’s any different. I tell her it’s club business and she’s pissed at me. I tell her my dad’s a fucking asshole and she’s pissed at me. All I care about is that she knows to walk away if she sees that bastard coming.
“It is for your protection. Maybe not the way you like it, but I’ll look after you the way I see fit, princess.”
“You will?” And fucking hell, there go her eyebrows again—two elegant ‘fuck you’s arching high over her glittering green eyes. This time her thin smile joins them, cutting right through my throat, slicing me open. “So maybe you think I really am a princess. Just so delicate. So fragile. I can’t handle anything without big ol’ Saxon Gray here to protect me and tell me what to do.”
That’s not what princess means to me. “You’re twisting shit around, Jenny,” I tell her hoarsely. “You know you are.”
“Then stop treating me like I need to be coddled! You think I couldn’t see how he’s poking at me about your time in prison? You don’t think I couldn’t see through that shit about my debt to you being a burden I need to pay?”
All my boiling rage turns to ice. “He was doing what?”
“Playing off my guilt, trying to persuade me to give you the clubhouse property. I don’t know why, but—”
“What guilt?”
She blinks and looks at me in momentary confusion at the abrupt change, trying to shift gears away from my father. Because I don’t give a shit about Carlisle and what he said. I need to know what the fuck she meant by her guilt.
“Um, you know,” she says with a frown. “For when you went to prison.”
Oh, fuck no. Roughly I ask, “And you feel guilty for that?”
Her green eyes widen at my tone. “Saxon—”
“Answer the goddamn question, princess.”
“Sometimes,” she whispers and the icy rage splinters through my chest, ripping and tearing. “I can’t really help it.”
“And what about this debt that’s such a burden? You think you owe me something, too?”
“Saxon.” Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips. “I know he was manip—”
“He can’t manipulate what’s not there.” Catching her face in my hands, I snarl, “Do you believe you owe me?”
Her breath is coming in harsh pants. “Saxon—”
“God damn it, Jenny, just answer—”
“Yes!” she shouts, then quiets on a shaky little, “Sometimes.”
That rips me right open. I pivot away from her, feeling my guts spill out. “So you’re just going to hand over your property to me because of it?”
“No, I told you—”
“You think I’m here for your money, Jenny?”
“No! I never thought that.” Her body’s trembling when I turn back, her eyes glistening, her fists clenched. “But I’d give it to you if you wanted it. Not because I owe you, Saxon, but because I’d give you anything.”
“You don’t fucking owe me!” Anger and pain blows it into a roar, but she doesn’t back down. She’s so small, just a tiny thing next to me, yet my Jenny still stands so fucking tall. “And I only want one thing from you. Just one fucking thing.”
Her heart
.
But it’s my heart that slams to a halt when Jenny suddenly sinks to her knees.
Her lips parted, she looks up at me through those long dark lashes. Her nipples are twin points beneath her black T-shirt, and the glittering in her jade eyes isn’t anger, isn’t tears. She’s worked up and hot as hell.
Her voice is husky with arousal when she says, “Is this what you want?”
Jesus. No. That wasn’t what I was thinking. But now I’m not thinking at all, my brain just fucking blowing away, taking with it a little part of me that says I have to be soft and gentle.
“Yes.” It’s a growl from deep in my chest. My fingers sink into her thick dark hair. I shove my sweatpants down over the jut of my erect cock and drag her closer. “Right now. You claim to owe me, princess? Then I’ll show you exactly how to pay me. Open that pretty mouth.”
She already is, leaning in and bracing her hands on my thighs, so eager for my cock. Need shaking through me, I fist the base of my shaft and aim for those lush lips. Pink tongue extended, she slides a teasing lick over the swollen tip before her hot mouth takes me in.
Ah, fuck. I groan as her scalding heat surrounds me. My fingers tighten in her hair, ruthlessly pushing my cock to the back of her throat. My head falls back when she moans, her tongue working along the bottom of my shaft as if she can’t get enough of my taste.
God help me. I can’t get enough of her mouth.
“Like that, Jenny.” My voice is a hard rasp. “Take me deep.”
Immediately her cheeks hollow. Slowly she draws back and the pleasure of Jenny sucking my dick explodes through my head. Every single thought goes, and all that’s left is just the feel of her mouth, her tongue, the sweet painful scrape of her teeth when she tries to swallow me too deep.
Some days she teases with light kisses and licks. Not today.
Her fingers dig into my ass cheeks as if she’s trying to force my full length into her mouth. But there’s too much, and instead she takes in all she can and sucks hard, pulling back to swirl her tongue over the head again and again.
I’m fucking losing it with every stroke. Thrusting into her mouth, squeezing the base of my shaft so I don’t come too fast—but those sounds she’s making, those hungry moans, Jesus. And she’s looking at me. She’s got those beautiful green eyes locked on mine, those pretty lips stretched around my cock, the veined shaft glistening from the wetness of her mouth.
As I watch, she pushes the bottom of her shirt up, exposing her pretty tits. She cups the soft weight in her palm and her thumb flicks over one rosy nipple before pinching it between her fingers and tugging hard.
So fucking beautiful. “Don’t forget your pussy, Jenny.”
On a moan, her eyes close and she sucks harder. Her hand slides down and dips under her skirt. Her hips rock forward, the fingernails of her left hand digging into my ass, her hungry mouth drawing me deeper.
I groan and can’t look away. Fuck me. The sight of her playing with herself puts me on a fucking razor’s edge. I pull harder at her hair, shove deeper past her lips.
“Now.” It’s a guttural command. “Suck me down.”
She hums and I feel her throat working around the wide head of my cock even before I start to come, and the feeling’s like fucking heaven, her tongue like hot lightning. A long groan rips from me as my dick jerks in her mouth, filling her with my cum.
She swallows every drop, then keeps going back for more, licking the sensitive little slit and swirling her tongue around the thick tip.
It’s sweet fucking torture. My chest heaving, I drag her away. She resists for an instant, her fingers curling against my ass and her mouth sucking hard on my cock. Jesus Christ, she takes my goddamn breath away. Eyelids heavy, lips swollen.
And I intend to see all of her. Hauling Jenny to her feet, I take her mouth in a long kiss, tasting myself, tasting her hunger.
When she’s whimpering with need and pushing up against me, I let her go.
She stares up at me, her lips glistening. “Saxon—”
“You take a step over there, princess.” My voice is gruff and hard, and I’ve seen men sidle away, looking for escape when I use that tone. Jenny just shudders and catches her breath, because she knows there’s no danger here. For her, that tone means she’s about to get good and fucked. “Because you say if I want something, you’ll give it? Hell, no. If I want something from you, Jenny, I’ll take it. You understand?”
With a hectic flush staining her cheeks, she nods and whispers a breathless, “Yes.”
“Good. Because I’m going to take what I want now.”
And I want every goddamn inch of her.
Chapter Seven
Jenny
Despite the heat racing through my blood, I can’t stop shivering. This is exactly what I wanted, needed—my whole world narrowing down to Saxon, and instead of bringing in all those outside cares by being so gentle and soft, he’s demanding everything. My body, my attention, my heart.
And I want to give them.
He turns away from me, stripping off his sleeveless shirt. Oh, God. Just looking at him makes me hotter, wetter. His shoulders are heavy with muscle, his arms like thick steel. The Hellfire Riders’ emblem inked across his back seems to flutter to life with every rippling movement under his skin. He hauled up his sweatpants again but they sit low on his hips, his thick cock still half-hard beneath the gray cotton.
His dark blue gaze sweeps over me, his expression carved from stone. He sits on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed, using the mattress as a backrest that he leans against, spreading his arms along the top of the bed.
Just as if he were on a couch in the Hellfire Riders’ clubhouse, surveying his domain. Instead he’s looking at me like he owns me.
He does.
His gaze skims down my length, from my hair to my bare toes, which curl nervously into the carpet. I’m trembling in my Black Boots’ shirt and skirt, my nipples drawn into tight aching points, my inner thighs slick with my arousal.
Saxon’s eyes meet mine again. “I’ll take that shirt, Jenny,” he says.
Taking what he wants. A shudder rips through me and for a second I think about turning and running—not because I’m afraid but so he’ll have to catch me before taking me. But this time, that’s not how I want to play.
I don’t want to play at all. I just want to give him everything he wants.
He draws in a long breath, his eyelids going heavy as I draw the shirt over my head. My breasts are small, my nipples rosy and tight, and I know he loves everything about them. They aren’t always sensitive, especially before he’s played with them, but sometimes he sucks on the hardened tips until I’m screaming with frustration and on the edge of coming.
I hope he does that now but instead I just hear his gruff, “And I’ll take that skirt, too.”
Making me strip in front of him. My fingers shake a little as I push the tight skirt down over my hips, then kick it away.
His hard gaze follows the flight of the skirt, then returns to my panties. Almost absently, his big hand goes to his cock, gripping the bulge of his erection through the sweatpants.
“Are those panties wet, Jenny?”
I can’t stop the flush crawling up my face. I’m not embarrassed. But, Jesus. They’re not just wet. They’re soaked.
“Yes,” I answer softly.
“Then I’ll take those, too. But”—his sharp tone stops me with my fingers hooked in my waistband—“don’t you just toss all that pussy juice aside like it’s nothing. You bring those panties to me.”
Biting my lip, I slide them down. I don’t have any sexy stripper moves but I know one way to drive Saxon crazy.
My gaze locked with his, I slowly fold the panties into a neat little bundle.
The growl he makes in response has a hitch in it, like a laugh. But his voice is hard as he says, “Get your pretty little ass over here.”
The cool air in the bedroom teases the wetness between my legs with every ste
p. Sharp prickles of awareness tighten every inch of my skin. He’s so beautiful, his abdomen defined even in that relaxed posture, bisected by a happy trail of rough hair over tanned skin.
His steely gaze follows me, lifting as I stop directly in front of him. “Now you hand those panties over.”
Not that easily. “I thought you planned to take what you wanted.”
He moves so fast. His hand hooks around my waist and he snatches the panties, then he drags me forward and his hot mouth latches onto my breast. I cry out, my fingers diving into his hair, but it’s over just as quickly.
Drawing back, he leaves me panting, my nipple wet and aching for more. Panties dangling from his fingers, he brings them to his nose, watching me over the silk as he breathes in deep.
His voice is a rough growl. “These are sopping wet, princess.”
“Sorry?”
His short exhalation sounds like another silent laugh. Watching me, he pushes the bunched silk beneath his waistband—using the wet panties to stroke his dick, I realize. God. I’m entranced by the movement of his hand, imagining his fist gripping his shaft and rubbing my arousal all over his cock, feeling the answering stroke of need deep inside me.
“You step up here now,” he says.
Onto the bench. Heat stains my face, but I step up, my feet on either side of his hips. With him leaning back against the bed, the position forces me to part my legs right in front of his face. His warm breath skims across the wetness painting my inner thighs. I close my eyes as his deep voice shivers over my skin.
“You’re dripping all over, Jenny.”
I can’t respond. Instead I stand with my eyes closed, shaking with tension and waiting for his touch.
It doesn’t come. Instead he tells me, “Now spread those pussy lips. Use both hands. I want to take a good, close look at what’s mine.”
All his. My pussy’s hot and wet and slippery. I can’t stop my whimper when my fingers brush my clit, dying to go back for another touch, to rub and rub until I come, but I slip my fingers deeper into my slit and expose myself to him.
