Chapter Eight
Rebel
Make her? That’s a challenge she shouldn’t have issued.
This was not how I thought my night was going to go. Staring down at this infuriating woman, seeing the lust in her eyes and smelling her arousal, as she continues to fuck her own hand.
She’s got some attitude. Knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go after it, by any means.
I was pissed as hell when I saw her come out of the bar with Cipher, that was bad enough, but when they started kissing, I lost all sense and said something I had no right saying.
I should have gone to the clubhouse and left them to it. The thought of him fucking her sent a spark of hot rage through my bloodstream. Cipher isn’t a bad guy, but in that moment I wanted to tear his head off, or smash his hands to smithereens, like the other fucker who touched her.
One bad choice after another has led me here, has me gripping her wrist to still her hand.
Fuck. This shouldn’t be happening. The last mistake with Raven’s friend isn’t going away.
“Let’s make one thing clear,” Kinsley says, tilting her head back to meet my eyes.
My only reply is to arch a brow, and a slight tightening of my fingers around her wrist. Not enough to hurt, but enough to tell her she needs to finish this thought.
“I don’t like you.”
“Is that supposed to hurt my feelings,” I ask, sliding one finger along the edge of her palm, towards her knuckles.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” she says, then moans when I touch her clit with the tip of my finger.
There is no response from me because she’s right, it is just sex which we shouldn’t be having, but I’ll be damned if I let her go to the bar to grab another brother to satisfy whatever this itch is.
If I were a better man, I’d ask if she wants this or if she is using sex with a random person to deal with some internal conflict.
I’m not a better man, and whatever she is going through, she is holding tight inside. I won’t pry. If she wants to use me, I will not fall on any principles I don’t hold.
I push my knee between her legs, making her widen hers enough that I can get my thigh between them and push up against her hand, driving her fingers deeper inside her pussy.
“Oh, fuck,” her eyes roll and her head tips back, bumping against the wall.
My guess is she doesn’t want gentle. I’m an expert at not being gentle. In fact, it takes a certain woman to handle the things that get me off, which is why this will be a quick one-off fuck that settles whatever shit she has going on.
It startles her out of her lust-induced haze when I clamp her waist with both hands and drag her away from the wall. There isn’t much furniture in the room, making me pause while I decide where I want to put her. It won’t be the bedroom, that says too much.
Before I can choose between the table or back against the wall, Kinsley grabs my wrists and twists them out to the side, which hurts enough for me to scowl at her but nowhere near enough to subdue me.
It also makes my dick fucking hard. She moves into me, thrusting my hands away and putting hers on my chest.
When she pushes, I make sure I’m not about to land on my ass on the floor and allow her to use her weight to move me, taking a couple of paces before dropping onto the cushioned chair she was aiming me at.
Kinsley is angry as hell that I’m nowhere near as bothered by her manhandling me, which she shows plain as day as she shoves her jeans down and steps out of them, kicking them off to the side.
Sitting the way I am now, I’m eye level with her pussy.
She stands before me in a pair of little black panties.
Her t-shirt is only waist length so when she reaches up a hand to brush away her hair, it lifts enough to show off the tight muscles of her abdomen.
All the physical labor she does for her art is working for her.
I’m not judgmental of women and their bodies and am attracted to all kinds of women, but I’m wondering how rough Kinsley will go. How much she can take. I pull myself back from those thoughts. This will be fast, angry, and carnal for both of us.
Even though I would love to see her tits right now, she makes no move to take off her top. That’s fine by me. I’m not submissive, but I place my forearms on the armrests of the chair and look up at her, a challenge in my expression.
She could try to lord it over me, demand I undress for her, but she is too impatient to argue.
She’s a woman who knows what she wants and bends over, dragging the zipper of my jeans down and spreading the sides apart.
Kinsley lets out a low growl when she drags at the waistband, and I don’t move.
Then I take pity on her and lift my hips so she can pull my jeans away enough to get at the goods.
It isn’t difficult given my dick is so hard it has its own damn heartbeat.
“Condom?” she pauses.
I lift one side of my ass to get at my back pocket and produce a little packet. She scowls at it, and I almost ask if she’s bothered I have protection so accessible, but she pinches her lips together and rips it open, sheathing me a little too roughly, making me hiss.
I grab her wrist, and her eyes lift. I’m all for letting her take the lead, but won’t stand for that shit.
“If you want me to fuck you, don’t treat this like a fucking inanimate object to get you off.”
“You talk as if it’s a prize I should be grateful for.”
“Feel free to zip me right back up.”
Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, I consider how dangerous this is, for both of us.
She straightens and tugs off her panties. My eyes never leave hers, no matter how much I want to look between her thighs or reach out and touch her.
Instead, I issue another challenge with my eyes, and she moves over me, taking my dick in her hand.
Lucky for us both she isn’t as rough with it as she lifts her hips and lines me up.
I shouldn’t be surprised that she sinks down so fast. Another hiss rushes from between my gritted teeth.
Her mouth falls open and a small whimper escapes, her brow furrowing.
She holds still, getting used to the size of my dick that she rammed inside of herself with no thought. She’s wet enough that it didn’t hurt either of us too much.
Kinsley gets over it, her hands grip the shirt beneath my cut, pressing back so I’m pushed further into the cushion behind me.
I’m so caught up in her reaction I take a moment to realize I’m sitting here, in the back room of a damn church, fucking a woman who is doing everything she can to show she hates me. I’m not so sure she does, but I won’t verbalize that.
She’s warm, wet and tighter than I expected her to be, and gritting my teeth is for a whole other reason now. Especially as she moves, rolling her hips in a slow rhythm at first, until she is used to me, then she lets go and rides me fast enough my zipper is rubbing against her skin.
I shift to move it out of the way but notice a slight cut on her inner thigh where it’s torn her skin. She doesn’t seem to care, but my eyes lock on it and I grab hold of her hips, helping to move her faster.
She moans and shifts away from the zipper. Her eyes lower to where I’m hyper focused and she slows, watching as I touch a finger to the small drop of blood. She gasps as I smear it over the skin of her inner thigh, and my gut clenches.
She isn’t batting me away, telling me it hurts, or moving it out of the way. Instead she rolls over me again, the zipper scratching the fresh wound.
“Fuck,” I grunt out.
As hot as this is, I’m letting her see too much of me. This cut will hurt afterwards.
A moment of discomfort to release the pain is quite different to continuously tearing her skin. Lifting her, I shove my pants away, then drag her back down, forcing my eyes away from the blood.
I usually have more finesse than this, but we’re both lost inside our own heads and in her anger and desperation to reach the point she wants to get to.
My focus is pinned to her throat, the dewy skin and slight movement where her pulse is beating a fast rhythm.
I’m drawn away from that when Kinsley pulls on my shirt hard enough that a few buttons pop off and go flying around us, skittering across the floor.
Before I can comment, she rakes her nails down my chest and over my nipples, it stings but feels fucking good, and I thrust up harder.
Kinsley’s eyes are on mine now, she is trying to read me, to understand why that move had me surging up even harder inside of her. I’m not about to get into that and don’t want to answer any questions, so I push my thumb into her mouth and grip her hip hard.
In response, she bites my thumb, but I don’t take it out, I relish the bite. Her nose wrinkles as her teeth scrape my skin, then the bite of her nails has me hissing out again.
Her nails gouge beneath the surface of my chest, not deep because her nails aren’t sharp, but enough to draw blood.
A surge of wetness floods over my balls as her eyes remain fixed on my chest. Her breath catches as she runs a fingertip through the blood, and our eyes meet. What the fuck? She can’t be like me… Can she?
The question is too much for me to ask. I raise my hands and grab hers, forcing them behind her back before either of us gives anything more away.
Then we fight. We push and thrash against each other, my dick moving in and out, her ass cheeks slapping against my thighs. She struggles against my hold, but I don’t let go.
When her eyes squeeze shut and her head tips back, I let go of one of her hands and grab the hair at the back of her head, pulling so she arches backward.
I fuck into her until she is screaming through an orgasm that has her tensing and squeezing my cock so damn hard there is no way to hold back my release.
My eyes follow the line of her neck as one of her hands comes around and touches her throat. A faint trail of red smears over the damp skin in the hollow.
My blood.
Jesus Christ. I need to get the fuck out of here. My sexual proclivities rarely come into play. And I’m not about to let Kinsley see any deeper into how us drawing blood is getting to me.
She shifts off me when I nudge at her and steps back, still breathless and dazed. The anger melted away into the pleasure haze, at least until I rise, towering over her. I drag off the condom, tie it off and toss it at the trash can beneath the table beside us.
Taking a few steps back, she watches me zip up and adjust the shirt she fucking tore open. For a long, silent moment we stare at each other, then disdain fills her eyes again. Only I’m not so sure it’s me she is angry at now.
At least she doesn’t show regret. That would really piss me off.
This was a stupid idea, but it’s done and I’m over it. Or so I tell myself as I walk around her without a word. I don’t even look back as I step out of the little apartment and walk down the alley to the front of the church.
I should have let her fuck Cipher, because my head is filling with all sorts of dumb shit as I stomp toward the street. Movement has me drawing up short and reaching for my pocket where I keep a knuckle duster.
It’s the priest. He’s not wearing his robes or that white collar at his throat, it looks like he’s been out for a run.
He is watching me after flicking his eyes down the alley to Kinsley’s place. I’m not Nero or Stryker, I haven’t tried to be friends with this guy and won’t be judged by him.
Kinsley can deal with that fallout.
“She’s not like other women you’re used to,” he says.
I’m pretty sure he has no idea she’s too damn close to the kind of woman I crave. I won’t discuss how his precious cousin was the one who threw herself at me, who is happy to fuck a man she admits she doesn’t like. Or how her eyes lit up with dark lust when she saw my blood.
As fun as that would be, I’m not a complete sadist.
If he wants to say anything else, I’m not sticking around to hear it. He doesn’t stop me when I ignore him and walk away, heading toward the warehouse where my bike is parked. I need to get the hell away from here.
The further and faster I ride, the more I convince myself I cannot go near that woman again. A deeper part of me knows it’s too late.
She’s ignited something dormant in me with that one simple rip of her skin and then mine.
The problem is, she saw it too. And she liked it.