Prologue #2
She shoves my chest again, stronger than I expect.
I have no choice but to drop down on the toilet seat, cock pointing straight to the ceiling, I’m that fucking hard.
She grips me, replacing my rough stroke with one so incredibly soft yet possessive, I ‘ve got to flex my ass cheeks to keep from spilling all over her hand.
“Yes,” she whispers. “This is exactly what I need.”
I reach up, fisting her hair. Staying seated because, damn it, that’s where she put me, I yank her down to me, stealing another kiss from those luscious lips. I’m probably smudging her lipstick all over my face, but I could give a shit. She tastes too damn good not to enjoy her mouth.
I want to enjoy her everywhere.
She doesn’t want to play, though. Oh, no. With my pants already down, she reaches for her own button.
Okay. Yeah. We’re definitely doing this, and I can think of a hundred reasons why I shouldn’t, but with my cock in control, the only thing I’m thinking about now is working it inside of… of…
I untangle my fingers from her hair, cupping the back of her neck for a second to catch her attention.
When I have it, I ask, “What’s your name?”
It’s a pant. A moan.
A demand… and one my pretty brunette outright refuses.
“Not tonight,” she whimpers. “No names tonight… just this.”
So tomorrow morning, then? I have no doubt in my mind that she has to know who I am.
Everyone in Harmony Heights knows the train wreck that is Sebastien Reynolds, whether they’re in the Order or not.
Sackerville is different but, then again, so is she.
I’ve just got that certain kind of reputation; the same reputation that led this beauty to accept what I was offering her, confident that I’ll bang her in this bathroom.
I doubt she’s Order-affiliated—not a Used or an Offering, either—but if all she wants is to fuck some other guy out of her head, well… I’d hate to disappoint.
No names. Fair enough.
“Then I’ll call you ‘love,” I tease, tugging on her jeans, desperate to get them off of her, “and, for tonight, I’ll be yours.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, and for the next few minutes, that’s all either of us says.
Once I have her jeans down around her ankles, she kicks them, allowing her to climb up on top of my lap. Part of me expected her to ride me cowgirl-style, back to my front so that she could get all of the pleasure of fucking me without the intimacy of looking into my face.
Like I said, I know what I look like. Delicate boyish features that don’t belong on a man my age, though they definitely work to attract women.
Pouty lips. A sharp jaw and soft cheeks.
Eyes that one of the Used told me looked like melted chocolate, and dark blond hair that looks pretty damn good even after a fifteen-mile ride.
But if you look closer, there are the marks I’ve worked hard to earn over the years.
There’s a divot missing in one cheek. When I was twenty, I broke my nose twice in the same year, and now it has a slight crook to it.
Some wannabe Order member pulled a knife on me, nearly taking out one of my eyes after he found out I fucked his girl.
She was a Used. That’s what they’re there for.
To pleasure the Owed… it was his fault for getting into a relationship with one of the Used without giving her a ring.
The only way out of that life is to get married—preferably to an Order member back in Jack Collins’s days—and they were barely dating.
Of course I fucked her. Hell, she requested me when I visited the backroom of the Court so obviously I was in the right.
When I got him on his back and slit his throat during the fight, blood dripping into my eye because he missed, poor bastard learned that the hard way.
I’m not an Order enforcer, but I learned long ago to fight back. Half the time, I fight first. My lifestyle means that I’m used to women falling for my looks before they see the truth of who Bas Reynolds really is.
I expect her to keep that element of anonymity—and I’m wrong. Instead of just wanting a man to fuck the memory of another out of her head, she climbs on top of me, locking faces as she throws one arm around my neck.
The other hand goes to my erection. With her legs straddling me, spread out over my lap, she guides me into her before sinking all the way down on top of me. I grit my teeth, eyes nearly rolling back into my skull as her tight pussy squeezes me.
She holds onto me like she’s trying to crawl into my skin and outrun whatever memory she brought with her. And when she starts to move, slowly riding me once she adjusts to the way that I’ve filled her up, I have the sudden urge to clutch her to me and never let her go.
She’s wonton. That’s the only way to describe her. I’m grunting, she’s panting, and she throws her second arm around my neck, burying my face in her chest.
I suck on her tit through the thin fabric of her t-shirt.
I leave wet circles, turning the material see-through, as she tugs on my hair, gasping for breath.
My hands go to her waist again. I don’t want to move that much, afraid my bare ass will slip off the slick, porcelain toilet seat, but I use my strength to lift her, helping her bounce up and down on top of me.
I don’t even need to. She fucks me like a woman possessed, as though she’s searching for something she hopes she can find with me at the Last Prayer.
“Easy, love…” I murmur against her throat, even as she arches into me like she wants me to mark her with my tongue, my teeth. “Slow down. Even if anyone comes in here, they won’t care about what we’re doing. There’s no rush.”
For me, maybe.
“No,” she breathes. “Don’t slow down. Don’t stop. Just keep… yes… just keep doing that.”
I curse under my breath and grasp her chin, kissing her again.
It’s harder this time, letting her know just how badly I crave her at this moment.
She gasps into my mouth, digging her nails into my shoulders, through my jacket, and I have to force myself to keep a lid on the desperation clawing through me before I nut and end his for both of us.
“Oh, love. You feel fucking incredible,” I growl, my voice lower than I’ve ever heard it.
Her whole body shivers on top of my cock.
“Say that again,” she begs. “Please… say it again.”
I brush my lips along her jaw. “You feel so fucking good. Like you were made for me.”
Her breath stutters. She whines, eyes closing shut.
I curl a hand at her waist to hold her steady. “Look at me,” I demand.
She snaps open her eyes and I peer into them. They’re wide, glassy, almost afraid of how much she wants this.
Wants me.
“That’s it,” I say, encouraging her, panting softly as she squeezes me again. “Just like that.”
When she pulls me closer, a soft, desperate sound catching in her throat as she throws her head back, I nearly lose it. I cage her in my arms, not trapping her, simply keeping her upright, keeping her with me before she slides off my lap.
She grits her teeth, and I know exactly why she has.
“Uh-uh, love. You don’t have to be quiet with me,” I tell her. “You can let go.”
She shakes her head, breathless. “You don’t understand. This feels—” Her fingers tremble at the back of my neck. “You feel… I didn’t know it could… fuck me.”
“I’m happy to,” I rasp. “You got me, love? You let me make you forget all about him.”
Did she hear me? Maybe, or maybe her last bounce felt even better than the one before it because she tosses her head back again and, this time, she moans so loudly, it echoes around the stall.
At the same moment, she shudders on top of me, her body tightening in my hands before she slumps forward, clinging to me as her soft breaths hit my ear. The way her body clenched as she climaxed… I’m not that far behind her.
So I stand up. I don’t even think she realized that I moved until I’m on my feet, jeans down by my knees, holding her ass cheeks as I buck into her. She gasps as I resume the fucking, giving her everything I have… and when my sac tightens, my body getting ready to blow, I give her that, too.
I should’ve pulled out. Coming inside of her like that…
that was a mistake. I know better. The last thing I need is someone showing up at Maman and Dad’s, telling my folks that I knocked them up.
Of all the fucked-up things I’ve done, I’ve never had to deal with paying off the mother of my kid or bribing her to get an abortion.
Oh, no. That’s all Alexandre, and if there’s one thing I managed not to screw up, it’s that.
All of the Used I fuck are on birth control. I keep a condom in my wallet for occasions like this. I haven’t forgotten to wrap up since I was eighteen and my girl at the time had a pregnancy scare. It was too risky for a Reynolds, and I forgot that when this woman turned her sad brown eyes on me.
Great. Fucking great.
She seems to think the same thing. She scrabbles down, climbing out of my arms, dropping down to the floor. Her hand goes right between her legs, face paling when she dip her fingers inside, pulling out the evidence of just how bad I wanted her.
“Love—”
She shakes her head. “It’s fine. I… don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”
I nod. Of course. If she’s in the habit of banging strangers, she’s probably very familiar with Plan B. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No. Don’t apologize. Tonight… you gave me everything I needed. Thank you.”
Huh. That ‘thank you’ sounds suspiciously like a goodbye.
Too bad I’m not ready to see her go just yet.
I wait until she’s gathered up her jeans, stabbing her legs into one side, then the other. Mostly dressed, I follow her lead, pulling my own jeans up over my ass, tucking my spent cock back into my underwear.
Only then do I reach out, tilting her chin up. “Come home with me.”
She freezes. Something… maybe fear… flashes across her face. “No. Please. I can’t.”
Because of him. That’s why. Because of the man she wanted to fuck me to forget… and I didn’t do as good of a job as I thought I did, huh?
That doesn’t mean we have to part right away. “Then I’ll walk you to your car.”
“No.” She steps back, shoving open the bathroom stall, putting space between us. With my jizz dripping out of her, she can’t look at me anymore.
“I have to go,” she whispers.
She has to go, and I let her. I don’t want to spook her. I hang back as she dashes for the bathroom door, lingering long enough to notice that she left her panties on the floor. I scoop them up, shoving them in my jacket pocket like the trophy they are.
I stay exactly where I am until her panicked footsteps fade down the hall, then I drag a hand over my face, trying to do my best to forget her. I have to. A woman like that… she could make a man like me want things I can never have, but how when she belongs to someone else?
I have to forget her—and I know I won’t.
Because she did the one thing no one ever does to me.
She walked away, and if that isn’t enough to snare my attention, I don’t know what is.