Chapter 8
JULES
She followed me into the bedroom, worry still on her face.
Typical Harlow. If she wasn't worrying about one of us, she was probably asleep. Scratch that she probably worried while she slept. She was like a mother hen. The kind that would peck the shit out of you if you looked at her the wrong way.
"What is it?" she asked. She watched me carefully as I closed the door behind us.
Yeah, I'd watch me carefully too. I'd just spent an hour of my life with my father, then found out he was a monster. She probably thought I was ready to snap.
Or worse, she thought I was like him. That I lured her in here to strangle her. For all she knew, that was the favor Forrest asked of me: I kill her, so Cass and I go on living our lives.
I closed the distance between us. Raised my hands and wrapped them around her throat.
She didn't move. Didn't even blink.
The air was sucked out of the room, leaving it hard to breathe.
Finally, I lowered my hands. "Remind me never to play poker with you."
She snorted softly. "You weren't going to kill me."
I turned away, ran a hand over the back of my head, then turned back. "You sure about that? The apple might not fall far from the tree."
She cocked her head at me. "Do you believe that?"
"That I'm like him?" My brow creased. "I don't know. I have his sense of humor. His temper. He's learned to keep it in check better than me. He and I are more alike than we are different."
She stepped over to me and placed her hands on my cheeks. Her skin was warm against mine. She smelled like something floral, lavender maybe. Whatever it was, it was soothing. Arousing at the same time, which was conflicting as fuck.
"You're nothing like him," she told me. "For one thing, you're not missing your moral compass."
I put a hand to my chest and pretended to feel around. "Are you sure? Sometimes I think I misplaced it."
"You did not." She gave a short laugh. She took my hand in one of hers and placed both of them over my heart. "You have this, in here."
She half-closed her eyes. "I can feel it beating. That, in there, it does more than keep you alive. It keeps you sane. It holds your feelings for Cass. And for me."
I barked a laugh. "What makes you think I have feelings for you?" I did. Almost more than I could deal with. I'd never felt this way about anyone. Standing here like this with her, they were stronger than ever. Overwhelming.
"Because if you didn't, you would have walked away by now," she reasoned.
"Could be because I'm a glutton for punishment," I said. I moved our hands from over my heart to over hers.
"You don't have to say the words," she said softly.
"I want to," I said. I leaned in and whispered in her ear. "Harlow St. James, you're more or less tolerable."
She batted me on the chest with the back of her hand, while I leaned back and grinned.
"I'm not sure if I can say the same for you, Julius Titmus," she teased.
"Tolerable isn't usually a word people use to describe me," I said.
Not that I gave a shit. Apparently people were entitled to their opinions.
I didn't care one way or another. The only person whose opinions mattered were Cass and hers.
Boner and Archer on a good day. Everyone else could take a long walk off a short pier.
"What words do they use?" she asked.
I placed my hands on her shoulders and pushed her until her back was pressed against the wall, bracketed her in with my arms and leaned in close again.
"They use all different words. Asshole. Prick. A few others I can't repeat. My personal favorite is sir."
She raised a shapely eyebrow at me, a few shades darker than her hair. "Sir, hmm?"
"Mmhmm." I agreed. "But only a chosen few are allowed to call me that. A select group of exactly one."
"Do I know this one person?" she asked, her pulse jumping in her throat.
"I'm right here in this room with her," I said.
I slammed my mouth down onto hers, tasting her lips and sliding my tongue between them, tracing all the way around her mouth before plunging inside.
She placed her hands on my chest as if to push me away, but she was kissing me back.
I devoured her mouth like I hadn't eaten in years. Like I was starving for her, needing to touch her, feel her, hear her moan. I grabbed the front of her tank top and yanked, tearing it right down the middle. The way the fabric gave way in my hands made me feral for more.
"Take your bra off," I snapped.
Before she could, I was grabbing the straps and yanking them down her arms. Leaving her to unhook it quickly, to catch up.
I threw it to the floor like I had a vengeance and grabbed the front of her leggings.
I pulled her to me, pelvis to pelvis, then shoved her leggings down her hips.
I gave her half a second to kick them off before I grabbed her panties and tore them in two as well, the lace no match for my desperate fingers.
I grabbed her leg up to my hip before shoving my fingers straight into her wet heat.
She cried out at the sudden intrusion. Her voice was like music.
"Who the fuck are you so wet for, whore?" I demanded.
"You," she said, all but panting already. "I'm wet for you."
"Of course you are. Dirty fucking bitch." I fucked her with my hand so hard it must have hurt, but she didn't pull away. She took everything I gave her. Groaning like she was begging for more.
I pulled my fingers out of her and all but threw her down on the bed, taking the moment while she bounced to push my track pants off my hips and my boxers with them. My cock was already rock hard, leaking from the tip.
She looked up at me, a smile playing on the corners of her mouth. Before I could kneel between her legs, she scooted away, pretending to try to evade me.
I knelt down on the bed and stalked her across the surface, my gaze on her.
She reached the end of the mattress and let out a squeak as she almost fell off onto the floor. I used that opportunity to grab her arms and straddle her hips, pinning her to the bed.
"Caught you. Where did you think you were going? Hmm?"
"Nowhere, sir," she said meekly, playing her part to perfection.
"Of course you weren't." I flipped her over and slapped her ass so hard I left a red hand mark on her round skin.
She cried out. More music. I should record her on my phone so I could listen to her later, but that would mean stepping away, and I wasn't going anywhere.
I grabbed the hem of my shirt, pulled it off over my head, and threw it to the side.
"Are you going to try to get away from me again?" I asked, leaning in to bite the lobe of her ear.
"Yes," she said, wriggling her ass as if it was some attempt to escape.
I smacked her ass again, harder this time. "Go on then, try."
She wriggled harder, but I had her pinned to the bed.
"You know what I think?" I said, tracing a line down from her temple over her cheek and down to her throat with the tip of my tongue. "I think you want this."
I knew she wanted this. There was no way this woman wouldn't have told me in no uncertain terms. She was getting off on this as much as I was.
She shook her head. "Please." Her voice was strained. I wouldn't have to touch her very much to make her come.
"Please what?" I pulled her wrists back, holding them in one hand while I grabbed her hair in the other.
"Please, sir," she said.
Fuck, that begging tone in her voice was hotter than sin. This woman was pure perfection.
I couldn't take it any longer. I pushed her legs apart with my knees. Held onto her hair so hard she had to arch her back to meet me. I positioned my cock outside her pussy and slammed right into her soaking wet vise. She was so tight.
So hot I was the one who almost came on the spot.
Fuck. I had to catch myself. Stop and take a breath.
I wanted to tell her how good she felt. If praise was my thing, I would have. I'd leave that to the other guys. Let them be nice. I was the asshole here. I'd own it.
"Can you feel my cock inside you, dirty whore?" I asked instead.
"Yes," she said, her breath ragged. "Yes, I can feel you inside me." Of course she could. I was filling her up to the brim.
"You like it, don't you? You like it when I fuck you. It reminds you that I own you. Doesn't it? Doesn't it?" I pulled her hair harder.
"Yes," she moaned. "Yes, sir, you own me." I caught a glimpse of tears glistening on her cheek.
"Fucking right I do." I pulled out and slammed back into her.
If my balls could moan, they would have. They wanted nothing more than to explode inside her, fill her up with cum.
Before they could, I pulled out of her and flipped her onto her back. I wrapped my hand around her throat.
"If you want me, keep your eyes on me," I ordered. Her pulse raced under my palm.
She looked up at me, barely blinking, her eyes dark with need.
Satisfied she was paying attention, I pushed back into her, keeping the pressure on her throat while I fucked her pussy.
"Keep your eyes on me and come," I ordered. I needed to hear her groans and watch her come apart underneath me. I needed it more than I needed oxygen right now.
Her body writhed and bucked under me. Her breaths became shorter and shorter as she drew closer to orgasm.
Finally she cried out, her pussy clenching my cock so hard I thought she might snap it off. I barely managed to hang on, waiting until she came back down to earth before I let myself go, exploding inside her. Bliss washing over me.
I had to force myself to keep my own eyes open and on her. Finally I sagged over her, releasing my grip on her throat. Judging by the color of her skin, she was going to have some nice bruises there. That made my cock twitch again. I might have left bruises on her wrists as well.
For good measure, I leaned down and bit the skin beside her nipple, wanting to leave more bruises on this woman so the rest of her men could see them and remember she belonged to me as well.
I pulled out of her and rolled over, bending my knee so I could watch my cum leak out of her. I pressed a couple of fingers to her, pushing it back in.
"Don't be so quick to give up my gift," I told her.
"Sorry, sir," she said softly.
I glanced up at her and shook my head. This woman was going to be the death of me, and I was here for it.
"I fucking love you."
She smiled. "I fucking love you too."