Blowback

by Monica James

A sigh leaves me. “And?”

  But he doesn’t elaborate. He’s holding back. Why?

  “And it seems your brother has told you the rest.”

  The clenching of his jaw says otherwise. Bull isn’t contradicting Christopher’s story. Does that mean he’s telling me the truth?

  This is the moment I should rejoice and forget I ever met Bull, but something is off. There is something he isn’t telling me. I don’t know how I know, but I just do.

  “Are you even sorry?”

  “Probably not,” he replies with a shrug, not even sure what I’m referring to.

  Ignoring him, I press, “Are you sorry you killed him?” I’m talking about Lachlan. I know he told me he has no remorse. But now that he knows who Lachlan is, does he feel any guilt for ruining my life?

  Lifting one hand off the truck and rubbing his thumb over my quivering lower lip, he calmly replies, “No.”

  I can break free at any moment, but I’ve missed his hands on me—so much. “You killed the man I loved,” I whisper, holding his gaze, needing him to see the pain his actions have caused. But he doesn’t care. He never did.

  “And he killed the man I loved,” he counters without flinching. “All’s fair in love and war.”

  A tear trickles down my cheek, and I squeeze my eyes shut to keep any more from falling.

  A breath hitches in my throat, however, when my baseball cap is tossed to the ground. Then I feel the soft wetness of Bull’s tongue caress my cheek, chasing my tear to claim it as his own. He’s addicted to my pain, and I’m about to find out just how much.

  “Get in the back.”

  “Excuse me?” I question, my eyes snapping open.

  “I said…get…in…the…back.” His pause between each word turns my sadness into rage.

  “I know the company you’ve been keeping lately may need you to speak to them like a child, but try it on me, and you won’t like the consequences.”

  “Ooh,” he mocks, pretending to tremble in fear.

  However, there is no pretending necessary when I swiftly knee him in the balls.

  His eyes widen, and he buckles to the side, giving me ample opportunity to shove him aside and open the door. Storytime is over. I was stupid to think there was a different story than what Christopher told me.

  I jump into the truck and quickly lock the door. Frantically patting myself down, I groan, remembering I don’t have the keys. I dropped them, thanks to being tackled by a brick shithouse.

  “No!” I slam my palms against the steering wheel.

  There is a light knock on my window.

  Groaning, I slowly turn my cheek to look at Bull, who’s outside my window with my keys looped around his extended finger. “You really shouldn’t have done that,” he says, still bent in half as he catches his breath.

  His warning is a delicious lick over every inch of my body.

  “And what are you going to do about it?” I challenge with an arched brow.

  It’s the ultimate stare off, like a duel at high noon. Who is going to reach for their gun first?

  He lunges for the door, unlocking it with the key, but I slam down the lock before he can open it. He grins, his longer canines glistening under the full moon.

  My breaths are labored as I lock eyes with him, reading his every move. He’s fast, but I’m faster, thanks to the adrenaline running through my body.

  “You won’t be getting far without your keys. So if you want them, come and get them.” He steps back, holding my keys prisoner in his hand. He makes it clear he’s not budging.

  He’s right. I can’t sit in here all night because I’m already late for work by a half an hour. But if I go out there, I don’t know what he’ll do. But as my pulse reaches an unhealthy pinnacle, I realize…I don’t know what I’ll do.

  What I do know is that I’m not a coward. They’re my keys, and I want them back.

  Calling his bluff, I lift the lock and open the door. I’m expecting Bull to charge me, but he doesn’t. He stands feet away, dangling my keys from his finger. With fire and ice burning through me, I walk toward him, never taking my eyes off him as I reach for my keys.

  He looks…proud of me. I don’t know why. I don’t know anything anymore.

  Snatching them from him, I tamp down my nerves. “Asshole,” I utter, curling my lip in anger.

  “Bitch,” he counters with a smirk.

  Something happens, something I can’t control. It’s happened from the first moment I met him, but now, now that I know what he tastes like, I want more.

  I don’t know who lunges for who first, but it’s a fight for domination as his warm lips slam over mine. The taste of him instantly has me melting, moaning and giving in to temptation. I thread my fingers through his long hair and yank hard.

  He growls into my mouth, allowing me to manhandle him because he isn’t gentle. He bites my bottom lip, sucking the sting away. He locks a hand around the back of my neck, angling my face as he dominates my mouth with his.

  When his tongue flicks against mine, memories surface of when I felt the same action, but he was between my thighs. His taste, his smell, the feel of his hot, hard chest pressed to mine are almost too much. I shouldn’t want this, but I do.

  I want him.

  He walks me backward, lips still devouring mine as I wrap my arms around his neck. God knows I shouldn’t, but I feel safe in his arms. My back thumps against the truck as Bull opens the door. He reaches around my shoulder, unlocking the back.

  The moment it’s unlocked, he pries open the door and shoves me into the back seat. Our lips are still locked, kissing, biting, sucking, but when Bull coaxes me to lie down, I know kissing won’t be enough. He closes the door, sealing us in.

  He is on top of me, his palms pressed to my cheeks as he eats me alive. I know this is wrong, but I surrender when he breaks our kiss and trails kisses over my chin and down my throat. I tip my head backward, granting him full access because I want to feel him all over me.

  His fingers burn the sliver of flesh exposed above my jeans when they glide back and forth, back and forth. It’s tight back here, but I open my legs, begging him to give me what I want, what we both want. I can feel his hard-on pressing into me.

  When he unsnaps the button on my jeans, I whimper in relief. As he hovers over me, we lock eyes when he slides his hand into my pants and begins stroking me over my underwear. I’m wet, and he can feel it, but I don’t care.

  He rubs circles over me, but it’s not what I want. “Bull,” I cry in a silent plea for him to touch me in the flesh.

  He merely chuckles in response.

  Frustrated, I coax him to pay attention to my clit by lifting my hips, but he skates around it. “Tell me you hate me,” he hoarsely commands, shocking me. But I have no issues delivering on his order.

  “I…hate you,” I whimper when he increases the tempo of his fingers.

  “Tell me what a fucking bastard I am for liking this so much.”

  “You’re a…oh, god,” I cry, bowing my back when he pinches my clit. “You’re a fucking bastard.”

  “Good girl.” My responses please him, and he rewards me by slipping his fingers into my underwear. He dips two fingers into me, while rubbing this thumb over my aching clit.

  “Tell me this is a bad idea, and you want me to stop.”

  But I can’t. I don’t want him to stop. So I compromise. “This is a bad idea,” I groan, wrapping my fingers around his wrist and encouraging him to finger me harder, deeper.

  Rolling my hips, I hear him curse under his breath as I come apart on his hand. “And you want me to stop?” he encourages, punishing me with a relentless speed as he thrusts his fingers in and out of me.

  I can’t speak. What he’s doing to my body…to my heart robs me of anything but this. “Please,” I cry, undulating with every stroke he delivers.

  “Say it!” he exclaims, pulling out of me.

  “No!” I shriek, missing his touch, but also refusing to say something
I don’t mean.

  “Why not?” He grips my chin with the fingers that were inside me, forcing me to look at him.

  “Because I don’t want you to!” I scream, realizing what I said a little too late.

  Bull blinks, confused by my confession, but so am I.

  We’re both breathless, not sure of what comes next. My body is aching, and I hate that it aches for him. My lower lip trembles because even though I hate Bull, I hate myself more.

  I’m about to push him off me, embarrassed and ashamed, but what he says, it seals our fate forever. “Tell me you want me.”

  Forgive me, Lachlan.

  Slowly rising up on my elbows, I bring my shaky lips to his and whisper, “I want you.”

  A moan spills from him, and then it’s a flurry of hands and a tangle of limbs. I yank down his suspenders, desperate to feel his chest against mine. He almost shreds the shirt in half as he yanks off the buttons. I split it open, groaning when I run my hands over his warm, muscled chest.

  When my fingers brush over the silver barbells in both his nipples, he grunts low in his throat. He doesn’t give me time to appreciate his new piercings because he’s tearing at my sweater, desperate to get it off. Lifting the hem, I tug it over my head, and when my blue silk bra is visible, Bull lifts the cups and bends forward, suckling my breasts.

  I arch my back, unable to control my moans. He twirls his tongue around my nipples, before biting them softly. This is different. When we were together in the past, he never touched and played like this. Our sex was hot, but it was a rush for the finish line.

  But now, he seems to savor me, and I like it.

  As he’s sucking and tonguing my breasts and nipples, I reach down and unsnap the button on his jeans. When I lower his zipper and slip my hand into the waistband of his boxers, a stunned gasp escapes me.

  He is hot and hard in my hand, but there is something I haven’t felt before. Running my finger over the tip of his cock, I feel a metal barbell. It seems his nipples aren’t the only things he got pierced.

  I don’t know what I’m doing, seeing as I’ve never stroked a pierced cock before, but the moans tumbling from Bull hint I’m doing something right. As I’m stroking his shaft, he yanks down my jeans. I kick them off, and when my legs are free, I spread them, begging him to settle between them.

  He pulls down his pants halfway and gently shifts out of my hand. Before I can protest, he lines himself up with my entrance and teases me with the tip of his cock. The sharp sting of the piercing has me biting down on my lip in excitement.

  I don’t have any protection, and neither does he. This is so irresponsible and wrong, but what’s one more sin when I’ve already committed a hundred others. Wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, I draw us nose to nose and arch my back.

  He doesn’t need an invitation. He slides into me, inch by glorious inch. My mouth parts at the sharp intrusion because Bull is well-endowed. But the piercing only adds to the feeling of being consumed whole.

  When he’s buried to the hilt, he stops, allowing me to catch my breath, but it’s only a second-long reprieve because when I inhale, he commences moving. He takes my mouth with his, and his tongue thrusts in rhythm with his body.

  I can’t get enough of him; I bend to his touches, to his strokes, as he sinks into me over and over. His chest presses to mine, and the thrashing of his heart races with mine. I try not to think about how this is the first time of us being united this way. Missionary might be considered boring, but being this way with him, with him over me, in me, dominating my mind and my body is absolutely perfect.

  His fingers wrap around my waist, anchoring me to him as he picks up the pace. Our bodies are slick with sweat, and the noises spilling from us just lead me further and further to my doom. I don’t remember sex feeling this good, but with Bull, we fit when we shouldn’t. We always have.

  But I can dwell on my self-hate later because right now, all I can focus on is coming.

  Wrapping my leg around his waist, I open myself up to Bull, begging him to go harder, faster, deeper. And he does. He pumps his hips, sinking in so deep, I scream out in pleasure and pain. The line is blurred, but I don’t care.

  His hair flicks forward, shielding his eyes, so I reach up and brush it off his face. He lets me, which again, I don’t fail to see the significance of. Cupping his cheek, I meet him thrust for thrust, savoring the way he handles my body with wicked skill.

  He’ll leave bruises where he’s gripping my waist and fucking me with a punishing tempo. I arch my hips as he begins to rub over my clit with his fingers. He is all over me, and a blistering wave suddenly threatens to drag me under.

  “Oh, god,” I cry, threading my fingers through his hair, needing something to grasp.

  His piercing keeps skimming over me in the most delicious way, and when he pulls out, rubbing it along my inflamed clit, I shudder, my orgasm swimming so close, I can taste it.

  “Give me your mouth,” he orders, and I rear up, desperate to have his lips on mine.

  He kisses and fucks the shit out of me, but beneath the hunger, I can taste what this is—and we’re royally fucked. We should hate one another, and we do, just not enough to keep away. After everything we learned about the other, we just want the other more.

  My body, my mind, and my heart are lost to him, and I don’t know if they’ll ever be found.

  “You’re my favorite flavor…Tiger,” he pants against my lips.

  His voice, coupled with his words, are too much. Is he trying to tell me that Cherry isn’t a flavor he enjoys or has ever enjoyed? And Tiger, how I’ve longed to hear him call me that.

  “What flavor am I?” I gasp, as my body slams into his.

  “Every,” he replies, licking the seam of my mouth.

  “Every what?” I question, unable to speak in full sentences.

  “Every flavor,” he clarifies, pulling out of me before slamming back in.

  The sentiment touches me in ways it shouldn’t, and when he pushes his thumb against my aching clit, then takes my nipple into his mouth, it’s too much. My orgasm tackles me so hard, I scream, coming like I’ve never come before.

  Bull continues sinking into me, and only when I stop screaming, does he pull out and come on my heaving chest. Then he collapses on top of me, and our labored breaths are an echo of each other’s.

  I feel so warm, so full, but when I open my eyes and realize what I’ve done, my high fades, and the feelings of shame and disgust overcome me. I sought Bull out before I went to visit the grave of the father of my child. Christopher told me where Lachlan was buried, but I haven’t been able to go. I was waiting for the right time.

  Yet here I am, in the arms of the man who killed him.

  “Get out,” I whisper, pushing him off me. I suddenly can’t breathe.

  He doesn’t protest. He simply gets dressed, opens the door, and leaves me to my tears.

  Bull

  I’m not in a good headspace—all I can taste are her bubblegum kisses and the shame she felt when she kicked me out of her truck. I should have been stronger, but saying no to her is like denying myself the air to breathe.

  But tonight, I can’t afford any distractions. I’m meeting with Stevie’s supplier, bringing me one step closer to ending this freak show once and for all.

  “How’s the club?” Stevie asks casually, sipping his scotch from the back of the limo we ride in as some random woman is on her knees between his legs.

  “Good. It’s only been a few days, and we can’t keep the creeps away,” I reply, scoping out my surroundings through the window. So much has changed since I’ve been inside. I’m trying to make a mental note of where we are.

  Stevie snickers. “Those creeps are our meal ticket. Good job, Tommy. Looks like I’ll be paying Lotus a visit after all.”

  Nodding, I know sooner rather than later that I’m going to have to come up with a plan to ensure Lotus’s safety. My thoughts at the moment are to tell Lotus when I go over her books
. But for that to happen, Stevie will have to start depositing money into the club account. Once it’s in there, it’ll be dirty money. But that would mean things would have gotten way too far. I need this to be as smooth as possible, but it’s not looking probable.

  “It’s going to give me great satisfaction to go up against that asshole, Jaws. We can’t fail.”

  His comment snaps me from my thoughts. “What’s your beef with him?” I ask nonchalantly, refusing to look at the blonde head bobbing between his splayed thighs.

  Stevie and Jaws are about the same age. They also are in competition with everything it seems. What Stevie has, Jaws wants, and vice versa. They’re acting like two brothers, fighting over the same…girl.

  It can’t be that simple, can it? Especially when he is getting his dick sucked by someone who I’m guessing isn’t his beloved.

  “Let’s just say even though I want to put a bullet between his eyes, we seem to share the same taste in everything—power, money, and women.”

  Bingo.

  “But luckily for me, women, or rather a woman, saw who the better contender was.” The woman pauses, coming up for air, but Stevie pushes her head back down.

  That doesn’t give me much, but it’s a lead. Their feud is all because of a woman? Could it be that Jaws cares for someone other than himself?

  That’s a question for another time because when the driver parks the limo in some deserted neighborhood, it’s evident we’ve reached our destination.

  I leave Stevie to his blowjob, while I quickly suit up and wait by the car. My shoulder holster carries my guns. I also have one secured to my ankle. Before I shot Hero, I never had any use for guns. But now, I don’t have a choice. And judging by the holes in the beer bottles I’ve used for target practice, my aim is still perfect.

  I never wanted this life, but it follows, no matter which path I take. It all started the night I met Jaws. Maybe this was my destiny after all? Whatever it is, I need to stay on my A-game because to survive this, I need to outsmart them all.

  Jaws has leverage over me, and now, I just may have some over him.

  “Now, remember what I told you. Stay in the background. We do the deal, and then we split. No small talk. That’s how he rolls,” Stevie instructs as he opens the door. Thankfully, his dick is tucked back in his pants.