Chapter 9
Mace
M y gloved hand reaches back to rub the outside of her thigh any chance I get.
I know it’s no consolation, and won’t make her despise me any less, but I don’t want her to think we’re done with her now that we had our fun. This is far from over. I’m only getting started, and I need to placate her somehow to get her to trust me.
Her body remains tense against mine; nothing like the way it molded to me earlier. She’s pissed. Understandably. But she didn’t exactly put up any resistance; she opened her legs… rocked herself against me. I would’ve stopped had she told me to.
Instead, I listened to her body’s cues, to the exhilarated beat of her pulse matching mine, to the desperation in her kiss.
Fuck, I want to draw her like that, with her features tense, lips parted in a moan, and eyes pinched shut in ecstasy as she took the full thrusts of my cock to the very root. I could sketch her from memory alone. Even the image of her deep-throating me has burned itself into my mind .
My fingers squeeze her thigh. I can’t stop touching her. I need to taste her again. Feel her legs tighten around me.
Her muscles flex against my palm.
I’ve seen her ride with Ash when I followed them, the way she leaned into him with full confidence and a sense of intimacy.
There’s none of that ease between us. Her fists clutch the front of my hoodie to the point where her knuckles turn white, but I know if it wasn’t for her fear of falling off, she wouldn’t hold onto me at all.
Like I’m all sharp corners and edges, and she’s afraid to get bruised.
I revel in the fact that she can’t escape my touch on the bike. For this brief moment, she’s all mine. I don’t have to share her.
I pull up to the curb at her shitty apartment. Emily is off the seat, undoing the clasp beneath her chin before I get my visor up.
The light of the street lamp blinds me, but I catch the shimmer in her eyes as she removes her helmet.
My right hand locks around her wrist when she lowers it.
I tug.
“Let go!” she snaps at me.
I don’t. “Not until you tell me why you’re crying.”
“What, you can’t guess?”
“I want to hear you say it.” I can’t let her go like this. I know what I saw. I know the truth.
Her hands clutch the helmet tighter. I feel her tremble. “You… you…”
“ I ?” my voice coaxes her.
“You took advantage of me. I didn’t agree to that. ”
“You didn’t disagree ,” I counter. “Tell me why you’re really crying.” She’s holding back. She’s afraid to admit what I already know.
“I…I…”
“You?”
“I…”
Come on.
“I liked it.”
There it is.
I watch her shoulders sag when she forces out a hard breath. “And I hate that I’m not even mad,” she adds in surrender. “Because that was the best sex of my life.”
My helmet hides my grin.
I loosen the cuff around her wrist but don’t let go of her yet. Holding her gaze, I brush my thumb over her smooth skin. “I saw it in your eyes that first night in the alley,” I tell her. “I recognized the hunger in them.”
Her mouth twists in contempt. “So you decided to share me with your brother?”
My jaw tightens with her shot at my motives. I need Ash. He never strikes out. He has a way with words where I shine in action.
That’s not to say I’m not skilled with my tongue; I just prefer a more brazen approach, but I admit it takes a specific type to match my freak.
I don’t go for the obvious, though. I like a challenge. Sometimes they need a little nudge, a little encouragement to dare venture into my depraved depths.
Like Emily .
I couldn’t risk losing her before I even had her. Ash was my only option. I had to use him to reel her in, but she’s mine.
Even if she doesn’t know it.
I drop my hand and swallow my chagrin before I respond. “Ash and I like to share a sweet treat from time to time,” I say in a blithe tone.
She scoffs. “And what am I? Your Twinkie?”
“No.” I let out a laugh, shaking my head, then clarify, “It takes three loads in three holes to fill a Twinkie.”
Emily doesn’t appreciate my joke. She expels an appalled breath, then rams her helmet into my chest.
I catch it in one hand before it drops as she whips around, marching toward the building’s front door.
I hate this run-down neighborhood. She isn’t safe here.
I call after her, “Does that mean you don’t want me to pick you up after work tomorrow?”