95. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter ninety-five
Carrie
Thankfully Reid appears to decide that fucking me right now is preferable to hurting Elijah. His mouth closes down on mine and I can taste his need, I can feel the outlet he craves, the anger he still hasn’t escaped. I want to be his outlet, I need to be that for him, and he needs that from me, just as I do from him. That man cornered me. He scared me and not for me but for Reid. I was afraid he would hurt him. I still am. Suddenly, I need that escape just as much as he does as well.
I sink into the kiss, pressing my hands under his T-shirt, hard muscles flexing beneath my touch, and the minute I shove it upward, he yanks it over his head and tosses it. It’s barely left his body when his hands cup my head as he says, “You’re mine now. That means I protect you. You know this.”
“And I protect you. We’ve had this conversation.”
“No. No, I protect you. Period. And I am going to protect you.”
“What does that mean, Reid? What are you saying?”
“It means you’re going to do what I tell you to do.”
“That’s not how this goes,” I promise him, but before I can push back any harder, he turns me to face the opposite direction, his hands all over my body, and then my shirt is over my head, my bra following.
“Reid, damn it,” I say, trying to turn, needing to understand exactly what protecting me means to him right now, but he catches my waist. “We need to talk. This is not us. You don’t say and I do. You don’t protect and I don’t.”
His hands cover my breasts and he steps into me, his big, hard body cradling mine, the thick pulse of his erection at my backside. “Yes,” he rebuts, pinching my nipples, “it is. You do what I say on this, Carrie. It has to be this way.” He pinches my nipples again, sending a rush of sensation through my body.
I cover his hands with mine, fighting the haze of pleasure. “Anything I agree to while your hands are on my breasts doesn’t count.”
He slides one hand between my thighs. “What about when my hands are here?”
“Definitely not there.”
He squeezes my breast and uses that distraction to unzip my pants. The next thing I know he’s lifting me, and I end up with my hands on the back of a chair as he manages to take off my sneakers. “Reid,” I pant out over my shoulder, but anything I might have said is now lost as he yanks my pants down. In a blink, they are gone, I’m naked, and his hands are all over my naked body, stroking my waist, and then up to my breasts.
I am officially lost. I need him right now. I don’t care about his caveman attitude. I know that comes from his fear, the same fear I’m feeling. We just found each other. We don’t want to lose each other. I just want to feel him right now. I just want to escape with him.
He steps into me and presses his lips to my ear. “You will do what I say,” he orders, and this time his hand smacks my backside and before I can even complete my gasp, he’s turned me around and he’s kissing me, which might as well mean drugging me. This man is consuming on a normal day, but this angry and intense, he’s a beast with demands and I just give in. I stop thinking about his words and focus on his hands, his mouth, his cock that is somehow out of his pants. I reach down and stroke it.
He turns me again, and my hands land on the chair, and then he’s pressing inside me, driving hard and fast, thrusting, pumping, grinding. He’s wild and hot and he leans over me, his body arching over mine, his hand back on my breasts as he pushes into me, and when he tugs and pinches my nipple, he sends me over the edge. I cry out and he pumps, my sex clenching around him with a hard spasm, followed by another. He lets out a low, guttural groan and drives deep, shuddering into release. He lowers his head to my shoulder, and he doesn’t linger. He pulls out and then he’s lifting me, carrying me toward the bathroom, clearly in caveman mode.
Once he’s set me on the bathroom sink, he doesn’t waste a lot of time getting to the point. He hands me a towel and plants his hands on either side of me. “I’m not in a good place.”
I press my hands to his face. “You’re right here with me. Make that a good place.”
“Do what I say. That’s a start to a good place.”
“I’m not leaving, Reid. That’s not a start at all.”
He stares at me for several beats and then pushes off the counter to leave. He just walks away. His words: I want to hurt him before he hurts you, has my adrenaline spiking and I scoot off the sink, hurrying after him. I find him in the living room, pulling on his T-shirt. “Talk to me, Reid.”
“I’ll be back,” he says, heading for the door.
I’m naked and I don’t care. Once again I race after him, finding him headed toward the door and somehow I manage to plant myself in front of his big body before he gets there. “Where are you going?” I demand, pressing my hands to his chest.
“You do know you’re naked, right?”
“I’m quite clear on the fact that I’m naked, and in all kind of ways with you, Reid Maxwell. So, I repeat: Where are you going?”
“For a walk.”
“You don’t even have a coat and you’re too angry. You’ll end up at Elijah’s home.”
“I don’t know where Elijah lives, Carrie, and I don’t like that you assume that I do.”
“I know very well that you know his address,” I counter. “He’s an enemy and you don’t leave yourself blind with an enemy. I know you know how to hurt someone. I know that you can be cold and hard and I know you want to hurt him for me, but don’t. Don’t do this for me.”
“I’m taking a walk. The end.” He literally picks me up, sets me aside and in several long strides, grabs his jacket and opens the door. “Come lock up.” And then he’s gone. He left me alone after the eruption with Elijah, which feels off.
I hurry forward, and I want to go after him, but I can’t. I’m naked. I lock the door. Right as Kesha appears at my feet, I run for the living area where my clothes are but hunt first for my phone. Once I find it, I dial Royce. “He left. He said he’s taking a walk, but I think he’s going after Elijah.”
“I’ll handle it,” Royce assures me. “Don’t you even think about going after him. Wait there.” He disconnects.