32. Ivy
THIRTY-TWO
IVY
Yes.
This was what I’d been missing for weeks now.
Ever since I’d fucked them in that warehouse, my body sang for theirs, but I’d stuffed that yearning deep down where I thought it would never see the light of day again. I thought I’d buried it deep enough not to succumb.
All it had taken was one accidental embrace and that look in Dingo’s eyes like he wanted to bring me the world and lay it at my feet, and I was a goner.
And now I was on my back in the backseat of the stolen car, with a dead man just feet away from us lying on the concrete in a pool of his own blood, and all I could think about was whether or not I wanted to let Dingo fuck me for real, or if I’d be satisfied with just making out. Or if he even deserved to take pleasure from my body.
He’s the enemy, I told myself. You can’t do this. It’s wrong.
But that part of my brain that knew that, the part of me that recognized the rationality and pleaded with me to not take the step too far to come back from, was conveniently offline now. It was uninterested in answering now that I needed it.
So the part of my brain that still craved human touch took the steering wheel and veered so far off course that it blew my mind.
“Ivy, I?—”
My hands crawled over his shoulders from beneath his torn flannel shirt and dug crescent-shaped marks into the skin there, marking him as mine. “Shut up,” I growled, “and make me come.”
Dingo needed no more words of encouragement and no further instruction. The man’s hands moved from my shoulders to my waist and slipped up under my crop top, his thumbs finding my nipples to tease as I moaned shamelessly and arched into his touch. He played my body like a musical instrument, dragging whole chords of sound from my lips in the form of moans and sighs and pleas that strung together in unintelligible chunks.
All I knew was I needed more, more, and I needed it now, not later. My legs wrapped around his calves, and I used them to leverage myself and lift my hips against his, needing the friction in the worst way.
Something about the act of killing turned me on, made me thirsty for confirmation of life. I needed the pleasure as I came down from the adrenaline rush, needed to feel alive even as I crashed.
And right now, Dingo seemed more than ready to give me whatever I wanted.
With a snarl that would have made Coyote proud, he yanked his hands from my tits and started working on my pants, his fingers fumbling over the tight denim.
“I wish we didn’t have to rush,” he breathed against my stomach as he crawled down my body, my legs falling apart for him to settle between. “So much I’d like to do to you.”
I didn’t reassure him we could take our time later. I didn’t like to lie, on principle. The truth was just such a better policy than falsehoods. There was no getting confused or forgetting what you’d told someone. It was all cut and dry and out there.
“The others will start wondering if we got lost soon,” I said instead, hating the words as they left my mouth. I hated myself more for hating them, too. I didn’t want to want him; hell, I didn’t want to want any of them. But the longer I spent in their presence, in their home, taking over their lives bit by bit, the more I felt like I’d found a new purpose. A place to belong. Finally, people weren’t looking at me like I was a freak. I didn’t have to play at normal for them, didn’t have to pretend to like customers or coworkers, didn’t have to be nice. I didn’t need to cover my real feelings with socially acceptable masks to keep them from discovering how I really thought. How twisted I truly was .
Because they were just as broken as me in all the ways that mattered.
“I guess I’d better hurry up and get you naked, then, huh?”
I’d never heard those words in such an erotic manner before. They’d been bantered to me by frat boys in college and one-night stands at the bars, or the occasional ex-hookup that I kept around just to fuck on demand.
They’d never sounded as good as when Dingo said them in that fucking Australian accent of his.
Men with accents really were dangerous.
He yanked my shorts down over my hips as I rose to accommodate his actions, hating how hot his breath against my panties felt. How wet I was as his fingers trailed back up my legs and spread me wider so he could admire me in the dim glow from the overhead dome light.
“What do you want from me, Ivy?” Dingo asked suddenly, his eyes zeroed in on my pussy as he hooked a finger on the edge and tugged them aside to stare at the wetness he found there.
“I don’t know,” I whispered before I could rethink the words. “Just touch me.”
“That, I can do.”
His fingers speared me without warning, two of them sliding right inside my drenched pussy as I groaned at the stretch, the intrusion, pleased he’d gone for the gold so quickly. We didn’t have time to fool around, and I was well on my way to an orgasm with the way he hooked the tips of his digits and pressed them against my inner walls. All I could do was put my hands on the backrest of the seat on either side of me and raise my hips as he slid that other hand beneath my ass and lifted my hips higher, supporting me as he worked me into a daze.
Within seconds, I was nearly vibrating off the damn cushions. I could taste an impending orgasm; it was so close, but every time I thought I’d grabbed hold of it, or it me, he slowed his movements and dragged me back from the precipice, cooling me off only to stoke my flames again, higher, closer to the edge, toe to toe with taking flight?—
“I wanna be inside you,” he rasped, and without warning, without waiting for my permission or agreement, he’d set me down and was jerking himself out of his pants with a groan.
And suddenly, I wondered if I’d fucked the wrong one in the warehouse.
“Is that?—”
His grin was nothing short of chaotic, endearing in a stray dog kind of way. “You bet, girl,” Dingo teased, wagging his eyebrows suggestively at me. “That gonna be a problem?”
I stared down at his pierced tip and my lips broke into a hesitant smile. “Not unless you make it one.” My brows drew together, though, a hesitation in my thought process as I wondered how exactly that changed sex with a man. “Do you feel it, too, when you . . . ?”
“You certainly will,” he promised, and with that, he was at my entrance, pushing into me slowly, and?—
—oh.
Oh.
“That’s new,” I gasped as he rolled his hips, sliding all the way to the hilt inside of me. Those damned ball piercings ran along the inside of me, stimulating me in ways I didn’t think I’d ever experience. It was like a new toy, and fuck all if the only thought I could process right now was I wonder what this would feel like if it vibrated.
“Feel good?” he asked slowly, his words hissing out between his teeth as he slid back out and hesitated, waiting for me to give him a sign.
“I dunno,” I teased him, tangling my hand in the hair at the base of his neck. “Why don’t you keep going, and I’ll let you know when I decide.”
He didn’t speak another word as his hips got to work in the confined space, his cock driving into me with renewed intent. His size stretched me, pushed my limits, and that fucking piercing was insane inside of me. It felt just the right side of foreign, like trying a new cheese for the first time that’s just a tiny bit sharper than you’re used to, or shortening your skirt an inch or two before you go out clubbing.
Sex was sex to me before this whole situation. I’d never given the act another thought other than scratching an itch. But as he looked down at me, his eyes burning with something I didn’t recognize, my heart and my mind got twisted up in each other, and I found myself wanting to know things I had no business giving a shit about.
Things like his name. His origin story. His dreams he’d had for his life before he fell into this one.
What was Dingo like before he became Dingo? Before he became a Neon Dog?
Was he like me? Did something or someone in his life ruin him, too?
“Where’d you go to, girl?” he asked suddenly, and I realized his thrusts had nearly stopped as he realized I wasn’t as engaged as before. “We can stop if I’m boring you?—”
“No!” I said suddenly, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “I’m . . . I’m here.”
It was a lie, but I could fake it.
Fake it until you make it.
“Prove it.” His eyes narrowed as he lifted off me and pulled out, settling his ass on the seat between my legs. “Come get it if you want it.”
I didn’t have the energy left in me to fight him for trying to tell me what to do. I knew when we got back to the compound, he’d fall right back into the habit of doing what I said, when I said it. But for now, he was handing me a gift. I could stop, walk away from all this, and pretend I hadn’t been seconds away from a mental break. Or, I could climb on top of his pierced cock, take my pleasure, and come out on top of the whole situation, hiding my internal struggle and relieving some of this pent-up sexual frustration I’d been trying to keep on a leash for far too long already.
The choice was simple.
I climbed atop his lap and sat myself down on his cock, my hands on his shoulders for leverage as he shifted forward to give me more headroom to bounce on him. Instead of simply rising and falling, the easy choice, I rocked on him, forward and back as I bent my head forward and let my forehead rest on the side of his neck. My lips teased the skin below his ear, my breath coming in short, panting gasps every time his piercing hit that spot inside of me that made my brain short-circuit. His hands grabbed onto my ass, and though he let me lead, those strong arms helped take some of the pressure off me as I worked myself on his dick.
“Fucking hell, Ivy,” he whispered into my hair, his groans and sighs mingling with the sound of squeaky leather beneath his ass. “You feel so good around me.”
“Ditto,” I mumbled into his neck, groaning as the orgasm I’d been chasing earlier reared its head again, just close enough to taste, but not close enough to grab hold of.
This time, I decided to toy with it myself. I dragged myself up and over his cock slower now, relishing every feeling and sensation inside me and out. He groaned my name again as I leaned back and grabbed his biceps for leverage, his cock hitting a new angle in me that had us both moaning in unison, and damned if that didn’t do things to my insides that confused and aggravated me in equal measure.
I didn’t want to feel things for him. I wouldn’t let myself fall for the enemy.
But I could fuck him here in this car we were about to shove into the river, in this dark abandoned area, and nobody but us would know. Nobody would ever be a party to the shameful way I’d lost control around the enemy .
Not unless I wanted them to know.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said slowly, his hands finding new purchase on my waist. Those thumbs brushed the soft, ticklish spot beneath my rib cage, and I had to bite my lip to keep from giggling. “What’s on your mind?”
“This is just sex,” I spat, aggravation rising to the forefront. “Don’t make it something else.”
“I’m not the one who looks like she’s at war with her inner demons while she rides my dick,” he retorted, chuckling under his breath. “But keep your secrets, pretty girl.”
My hand slapped down against his lips, effectively silencing him. “Either shut your mouth, or this ride’s over,” I growled. “Here,” I said suddenly, yanking his hands off my hips to relocate them to my tits. “If you want something to do, put your hands and mouth to work on these.”
“With pleasure,” he mumbled, already yanking the top down to bare my braless breasts to the cool night air.
And then he lowered his lips to my nipple, and I leaned back and relished the feel of him inside me and out, filling me and teasing me top and bottom.
I was so close to being able to fall apart. So damned close. All it would take was a little bit of assistance.
My right hand moved to rest on his shoulder, and my left fell to my clit, where I teased myself into a frenzy, my movements on his dick erratic, my body feverish and desperate and vibrating with tension and energy that threatened to tear me apart at the seams.
“What do you look like when you fall apart for a man, Ivy?” he whispered against my chest, his eyes flicking up to stare at me while I looked down on him, tongue still teasing the sensitive nub in front of it. “Will you show me?”
Fucking hell.
I came with a muffled shout, biting my lip so damn hard I could taste blood against my tongue. Dingo’s hands moved from my chest to my ribcage, lifting me and fucking himself up into me with renewed eagerness, chasing a high I’d thought briefly about denying him.
But when a man makes you come with his words, the least you can do is reward him with an orgasm of his own.
Fuck.
He came inside of me as his body stiffened, my pussy still throbbing, milking him for every drop of seed his body offered. Although where it would go was beyond me. There wasn’t an inch of space left inside my body around his dick to put anything else. It was a tight fit, like a latex glove that was a size too small, and I groaned when I sagged against him and felt the stickiness from his cum leaking out of me, pooling on the crotch of his pants, leaving proof, evidence that we’d had a fast tryst in the back of this fucking car.
“You’re a mess,” I panted, my words so thready I wondered if I might hyperventilate from lack of oxygen. And then I wondered what he’d do to me if I blacked out. Would he leave me here, in this car, still shaking and heady from our sexcapade, and shove it into the river with me locked inside? Would he put me on his bike and take me back to the compound, treat me like an incapacitated member of his crew?
Or would he take the chance and kill me where I lay?
I knew which one I’d do in his position.
“You made me this way,” he retorted, the smile on his face telling me he wasn’t all that concerned with the state of his pants. “Let’s finish this and get back to the Guild before the sun rises and those two fucksticks come looking for us, yeah?”
I reluctantly rose off his cock, the damn thing softening as it slipped out of me, and tugged my tits back into my top with a sigh. “I’m not pushing this car.”
“I would never dare to ask you to,” he teased, cracking his knuckles before he reached down and shoved himself into his pants again. “Now climb up on in that front seat and get your shorts. And then maybe steer, and be ready to jump out before it hits the water. I don’t wanna have to fish you out of the river.”
As my fingers curled around the dirtbike’s handlebars after we’d ditched the car, I heaved a sigh of relief. The itch had been scratched; I’d come out of it mostly unscathed. Our job was done, and the asshole’s body was floating in the river. All we had to do was get home and clean up the remaining evidence of our crimes tonight—in more ways than one.
But I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. There was something dangerous about these men, something that allowed them to weasel their way into my heart, where they didn’t fucking belong. Something about them made me want to know the humans behind the masks. And I couldn’t afford that kind of closeness.
Not with them.
I couldn’t trust anyone, least of all the enemy.
And that’s all they were. The Neon Dogs were my enemies. I should keep my guard up and stay as far away from them as possible while living in their home.
But something in me had begun to chip away, and if I wasn’t careful, they might just weasel their way in through the cracks. And by the time I realized the intrusion, it would be too late.
Somehow, that wasn’t as scary as it might’ve once been, though.
And I didn’t even know why.