Chapter 29
The first tremor starts deep inside her. I feel it before I see it. Tight, fluttering pulses clenching around my fingers. Her breath catches, a jerk running through her as her body moves before her mind can catch up.
That’s it. She’s coming.
I slide my fingers free, slick and glistening, and grip her hips, guiding her forward. The head of my cock finds her center. She gasps, one hand flying to my shoulder, and I pull her down onto me. Inch by slow inch, She stretches for me. Takes. Welcomes.
Fuck.
I fit inside her like she was made for this. For me. Her walls pulse around me, still trembling from the orgasm I gave her, and I’m barely in before I’m clamping down on every bit of control I’ve got not to lose it.
I feel like a virgin again. First time. First thrust. First taste of heaven.
Sable drops her head, lips parted on a breathy moan I know I’ll hear in every dream from now until the day the good Lord puts me in the ground.
I slide my hands up her spine, palms wide, firm.
Memorizing her bare skin under my fingers.
She’s warm, soft, and so strong. I kiss the swell of her breast as she moves against me.
Then the other, tongue circling her nipple.
I suck—once, then harder—earning a beautiful hitch in her breath when I push just a little harder than I did before, testing her.
She’s not thinking anymore. She’s moving on pure want. Clutching at my shoulders. Hips rolling. Desperate for an anchor.
I look up, and goddamn. Flushed. Radiant. Her body glistens with the beginning of sweat. Every part of her says mine. She’s every version of divine I never deserved. And something primal surges in my chest.
Sable’s nails rake my back, a sharp, welcome sting. “You’re so big,” she whispers.
She’s not talking about my size. It’s about the way I fill her. Stretch her. Claim every inch of her from the inside out.
And hell yes, I’m proud of that. Proud of the way she yields. Of how her body speaks truth her mouth never could.
I let her ride me. Because it feels good. So fucking good. She’s tight and wet and so damn responsive it nearly breaks me in half. I grip her hips, guiding her just enough to help her chase the edge.
But I want more. I want all of her. Every damn angle.
“Turn around for me,” I say, voice rough from holding back. “Lay down. Stomach on the bed.”
She moves with a kind of surrender that feels sacred, not because she has to, but because she wants to. And fuck does she move. She lays out for me like a gift—body stretched long, ass lifted just right, one knee bent just how I want it.
Air catches in my throat.
Fuck, she’s perfect.
Her pussy is slick, pink, glistening with everything I want. Open. Mine.
I kneel behind her, hands smoothing over her ass, spreading her slow. Leaning in, I lick her from her clit to that sweet, soft pillowy opening. Dipping in, tasting all of her.
She moans—sharp, high. Her body jolts under my hands.
I do it again. Slower. Deeper. Tongue circling her bud, teasing her just enough to make her hips twitch like she’s deciding whether to run or beg.
I grab both cheeks, holding her in place, licking again—and again—until she’s squirming, panting, muttering my name like a prayer.
Sable’s right on the edge again. I feel it.
And I want her to break on me.
I press the tip of my cock against her again. One long thrust, and I’m buried deep. She cries out, back arching. I nearly come right then.
My hand slides under her bent leg, angling her just how I want her. I reach between her thighs, fingers circling her clit with the precision of someone who has known this beautiful woman’s body forever.
I thrust again. And again. Deep. Measured. Claiming.
Her breath stutters. Her pussy clenches around me like a vise.
I growl low in my throat, my own orgasm building hard and fast behind hers.
“Hex,” she moans, voice broken and needy.
I thrust harder, fingers moving faster. “Come for me.”
And she does. Her walls lock around me, pulsing, drawing every last ounce of control from my body.
I follow with a guttural sound, burying myself as far as I can go while she milks me dry. She moans louder, her entire body shuddering. We fall apart together. Raw. Spent. Full.
She lets out a shaky breath, face buried in the pillow. “Holy shit,” she whispers.
I chuckle, breath still ragged, and press a kiss to the center of her back. “This is just the beginning. I’ve got you all night.”
And I mean it.
We wrap ourselves in one another, in heady conversation.
Then, after we raid the kitchen for cold grapes and half a granola bar, both of us laughing, drunk on skin and heat, we come together once more.
We never stray far from the bed, never need to.
It’s all right here: warmth, hunger, the unspoken truth of what’s building between us.
Eventually, I’ve got her wrapped in my arms, her head tucked under my chin, her bare leg thrown across mine. Neither of us quite ready to sleep. The room is still and thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and the sachet that she said smelled like me on the nightstand. I could stay here forever.
A buzz disrupts our peace.
My phone, buried in the pocket of my jeans on the floor. One long, vibrating pulse.
I groan, stretch an arm to the floor, and dig it out. The screen lights up.
1:30 a.m.
Will.
My stomach sinks.
Sable stirs against me as I answer, “Yeah?”
His voice is tight, rushed. “They jumped JT.”
I jolt up, reaching for my jeans again. “What happened?”
“He was out front. I barely got there in time to pull them off him. He’s in bad shape, Hex. I wouldn’t have called otherwise.”
I’m already on my feet, phone pinned to my ear, one leg back in my pants. “Who was it?”
“Stauder’s guys. Jim and Tanner. Said they were looking for you, but JT was the next best thing. They said Ned’s done playing. Said you’re no longer in the clear. That you owe him.”
My jaw locks as rage climbs my spine. “The fuck I do.”
Will exhales hard, voice thinning and bracing for impact. “He said if you didn’t sit down and talk… he’d go after something else. The bar is my guess.”
I glance toward the bed.
Sable’s sitting up now, the sheet pulled to her chest, wide, alert eyes locked on mine. She’s already piecing it together.
My chest burns with the kind of fury I haven’t let loose in years.
He touched my family.
And now he’s threatening my home or worse, something I hope he won’t find out about, but I know how easily it will be to sniff out Sable.
He has no fucking idea what he’s just done.
I let Will know I’m on my way. Stillwater’s forty minutes out. I’ll drive it faster.
“Does he need to go to the hospital?” I ask as I shove my feet into my boots.
“I don’t think so,” Will says, voice tight. “Some deep cuts. One of them had a knife. But JT held his own. Took a beating, though.”
I clench my jaw. “No cops?”
“No time. It happened fast. But once people inside realized what was going on, the bar patrons jumped in. Ran ’em off. Place cleared out after that. I’ve got him in the back office now. I’m keeping pressure on the worst of it.”
“I’m on the road in five,” I growl and hang up.
Behind me, I hear rustling.
I turn to see Sable out of bed, already pulling on jeans and a hoodie. “What are you doing?”
She looks at me like it’s obvious. “Coming with you. Those phones aren’t exactly soundproof, Hex.”
Her movements are determined as she quickly stuffs her items back into the bag she brought.
“We’ll go back,” she adds, grabbing her shoes. “Make sure your brother’s okay. I can help.”
Something lodges in my chest—part shock, part something I’m too wrecked to name right now. But it roots itself deep.
We move fast, grabbing everything we brought and locking the house down. She tosses her bag into the truck, barefoot for all of two seconds before slipping into sneakers. I throw it in reverse, and we’re gone.
The Hill Country stretches out in shadow and silence.
The cab is dark, quiet except for the low rumble of the engine and the occasional groan of gravel under the tires.
My knuckles flex on the wheel. We’re tearing through narrow roads flanked by thick trees and fence posts older than the highway system, and all I can think about is JT.
Bloodied. Alone. How long he suffered before someone helped him.
I recognize the moment it happens. When something turns in me.
Not rage. Not panic.
Something colder.
Darker.
A kind of clarity that only shows up when you’ve bled for people and buried parts of yourself to keep it from breathing. When vengeance stops being an idea and starts feeling like religion. Like ritual.
It comes in the overwhelming need to tear those involved apart one nerve at a time. To take the softest part of their fear and stretch it until it screams. By the end, they’ll regret every breath they wasted walking on this earth.
If Ned were to touch JT—if he laid a finger on him himself—
No.
My grip tightens until the leather creaks.
And if he ever looked at Sable—if he ever tried—
The thought burns straight through me, sharp enough to taste.
Red washes over my vision. I see her under him, crying out, and the image alone nearly blinds me.
I wouldn’t just kill him. I’d make it slow.
I’d carve pain into his spine so deep he’d forget his own name before he forgot her face. I’d make his death art.
I breathe through my nose. In. Out.
I’m not afraid of what I’d do.
I’m afraid of how easy it would be.
And I wouldn’t regret it. Not for a second. Not even if it cost me everything.
Everything but her.
I glance over, wrath wrapping around my chest.
Silver light grazes her skin. She’s asleep. Head tipped toward the window with one hand curled loosely in her lap. Her mouth parted, breathless and beautiful, suspended in everything we are becoming.
She came with me. No hesitation.
I tighten my grip on the wheel, jaw locked as the dark highway eats up mile after mile.
She has no idea how far I’d go for her. No idea what kind of man she’s in bed with now.
And God help the bastard who gives her a reason to find out.
I’d burn the whole fucking town of Stillwater Bend to the ground for this woman.
And if Stauder so much as breathes near her, I’ll show him exactly what kind of monster he helped make.