Chapter 6
Six
Ican’t tell what time it is when I stir, but the room is steeped in darkness.
I blink, trying to see my surroundings, but only the outlines of the bulky furniture that skirts the room are discernible.
I’m still exhausted, and I don’t know why I’ve woken up, but York is beside me, soundless, motionless.
The blankets are pushed down, gathered around his hips, leaving the outline of his bare chest to rise and fall in the dark.
Contemplating the likelihood of escaping the city or surviving any of this in general, I shift onto my back. The odds feel dismal, but they are better with York than on my own, no matter how much I hate it.
The bed shifts next to me, and when I look over, he’s propped up on his elbow. I can’t make out his face in the dark. I look back up at the ceiling, ignoring him, but fingers run down my arm, and I brush them away before they pull the blanket down. I pull it back up.
Shifting closer, he tilts my head in his direction and kisses me.
“Stop it.” I turn my head away so he kisses my cheek instead.
“You can hate me and still want me to plow you,” he whispers and tugs the blankets back down. “Not everything needs to be black and white, Tripoli.”
“I’m not your personal slut, and I’ve learned my lesson about fucking psychos.”
A deep rumble rolls through his chest, and he kisses my throat. My stomach clenches, and my eyes drift close as his mouth moves, trailing kisses all the way up to my chin.
“I’d love you to be a little slut for me . . . You say that word like it’s a bad thing.” His lips brush my skin. “And I know you enjoyed getting fucked by this psycho.”
I enjoyed it, and then I hated it. But I am attracted to him.
I just don’t understand how after this morning.
I don’t like how he can switch from scary to tender so easily, how his anger seems to melt into a sexual gravity that pulls me in, even when my heart is racing and my head is telling me to run. I’m pathetic.
“You’re just manipulating me.”
“Of course I am.” His hand moves down my stomach. “And you’re manipulating me too, and if we know that, then it doesn’t really matter, does it? Where is the rule that says we can’t use each other?”
“You’re a terrible person,” I whisper and a little thrill shoots through me.
“Yes, I am.” His face comes back to hover over mine, and I tip my chin up, capturing his mouth.
Groaning, he kisses me deeply as his hand continues to move down my body, grazing across the front of my panties. I push into the soft touch, and he breaks the kiss, freeing himself of his boxer briefs before grabbing my panties and tugging them off.
I try to push him onto his back, but he sweeps me into his chest, as he kisses the tops of my breasts straining against my bra. I let my head fall to the pillow.
This is such a terrible fucking idea, just like it was the first time. I already know I’m going to hate myself afterward, but that doesn’t stop me from hiking my leg up over his hip and sliding myself onto him.
His hand slides over my ass and pulls me closer as he thrusts. My head snaps back as he buries himself, and I gasp.
“You look so fucking good when you take me.” He pulls down my bra and takes my breast in his mouth.
Moaning, I push my breast hard against his mouth and roll my hips, sliding along his length.
A warm, fuzziness tingles my skin all over, and my nipple hardens in his mouth.
A hand claps hard against my ass, surprising me.
It doesn’t hurt; instead, it sends a shock through me that makes me shiver, and when he does it again, my rhythm increases with a sense of desperation.
“Again,” I whisper, and his hand claps loudly against my skin, making me moan.
“I like that you like that.” He does it again, and I arch into him. “Mm . . . I’m going to put you over my fucking knee the next time you don’t listen.”
“Yeah, right,” I say breathlessly, and he captures my nipple with his teeth.
Hissing, the sharpness runs through me, and his hand comes down hard on my ass again. My breathing turns shallow, and he releases my nipple and then kisses it.
“I’m starting to wonder which one of us is a psycho, sweetheart.” Turning my face into the pillow I hide the smile that tugs at my lips, and then he’s whispering in my ear, “You better keep riding me like a hungry slut, or I’m going to flip you over and fuck you like one.”
My body freezes, and I turn my head toward him, rage stifling everything else I was feeling. “What—”
His mouth crashes into mine, and I plant my hands on his chest, pushing at him, but he holds me there, hand fisting in my hair as the other one comes down on my ass again. I squeak in surprise against his lips, and then his hips move, and I groan.
“I mean it,” he growls, and my hips jump back into action. “Good girl. Show me how badly you want it.”
The next time his hand connects with my ass, it stings, and I whimper. He rubs his hand over the spot gently as my hips rock against him, greedily chasing my own release.
“That’s it,” he breathes out and kisses my chest. “Just like that.”
“Yes,” I gasp out as the numbing electrical charge builds between my legs and spreads upward.
I slow, dragging myself up and down his length as my body tightens around him, and I pant.
Hissing, he forces me to my stomach and pulls my hips up into his, burying himself.
It’s shocking, and I try to lunge forward, but his arm catches me around the ribs.
He buries himself again to the sound of my voice cracking.
“I warned you.”
My skin heats, and I sweat. I can’t decide if I want to escape him or not. He sets a punishing pace, but I’m so close to the edge . . . I just want to fall over it.
“Harder,” I say defiantly.
Grunting, he slams into me again and again until my fingers dig into the bed, and I’m hovering on the edge, stilling in the moment before exploding with the air trapped in my lungs.
“This is exactly what you needed, isn’t it?” he whispers with his chest pressed to my back as he thrusts. My thighs tremble. “You want to be fucked hard and treated like a slut.”
Teeth sink into the back of my shoulder, and the tension snaps.
A spike of pleasure spreads through me, and my body clenches down on him. Grabbing my waist with a bruising grip, he sits back and rides my finish as I shake with release.
“Good god,” he says breathlessly.
The initial shock of the orgasm lets me out of its grip, and I take a deep breath, panting and desperate to collapse when he pulls out, splashing hot cum across the top of my ass. As soon as his hands release me, I drop to my stomach, and the bed shifts under his weight.
A moment later, a warm wet cloth is running over my skin, and he slides onto the bed beside me, pulling the blanket up.
“You’re going to kill me at the end of this, aren’t you?” I press up onto to my elbows and look down at him.
“What is the end?”
“I’m not sure. You haven’t told me anything yet.”
“Maybe your purpose is large and complicated.” He drags the tip of his finger over my shoulder.
“If you don’t kill me, the only other choice is to keep me captive. That doesn’t make sense though . . .” I flip onto my back and stare into the darkness. “It’s a loose end and a headache you don’t need.”
“Really?” His voice sounds rough. “I’m beginning to think you’d enjoy being my captive.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“That’s not a denial.” He exhales. “You often sound like you want to die.”
“No.” I shake my head in the dark. “I’m just telling you that I won’t be surprised when you do it, even after you promise me you won’t. I’m never going to trust you.”
“What if I fall madly in love with you?” It sounds like he’s smiling, but I don’t appreciate the joke when my life is in his hands.
“I’ll never love you, so that doesn’t matter.”
Rolling over, he snags my waist and draws me into his chest. “I’m capable of all kinds of terrifying things, Tripoli,” he says darkly in my ear. “Never say never.”
Loving him would be terrifying, but I know I’m right.
Tripoli dies at the end of this unless I get resourceful, really fast. I’m going to be used for whatever and then discarded when it becomes more trouble than it’s worth to keep me breathing.
If I can escape and go into hiding, maybe I survive, but all my current resources are out of reach.
Home is too far, and the Agency has probably already frozen all my funds. If not, they’re waiting for me to access them. Something tells me I’d never outrun York either. Although maybe if I give him whatever it is he needs, he’ll let me go . . . eventually.
Oddly enough, I don’t think he wants me dead, but at some point, when things go badly and he has to pick between me and himself, he won’t hesitate to choose himself.
I wouldn’t.
Every time.
Thankfully, my hateful inner monologue doesn’t berate me for sleeping with him again, and I’m able to fall back to sleep.