23. Talon
TALON
She’s awake.
I’ve been watching her from the closed-circuit cameras in my office, keeping my distance as she comes back into herself.
She was drugged out of her fucking mind when I found her.
After I chased her down, I had every intention of finishing what I started in that cell– rutting into her tight cunt right there in the dirt, restoring the imbalance between us and carving the itch straight out of my DNA.
But when I saw her eyes, I knew the real her wasn’t behind them.
So, I scooped her up, and despite how light she is, something heavy twisted in my gut all the way back to the truck.
Slade studied me with rapt attention as I placed her on the back seat, pulling my shirt off and putting it over her small frame.
Then we started arguing over what the hell to do with her.
Repossessing an Asset without proper clearance is strictly forbidden.
Slade listed out every consequence and all the ways this could go wrong or get us both killed, the warning clawing and thrashing to get inside the hollow cavity in my chest. And I don’t know what came over me, but I just fucking snapped.
It was like I was five all over again, being scolded and threatened because I took something that didn’t belong to me.
Except she does.
She’s fucking mine.
He doesn’t have to understand. No one does. But I see it every time we collide– in the subtle way her features soften, in the way the fire in her eyes burns brighter as fury warps to lust. Whatever demons she has, they were born to dance with mine.
Slade finally gave in, but only under the condition that he could check her for any Guardian control tech. Lo and behold, she’d been chipped like a goddamn dog, but in a way far less humane. The collar she was wearing had rubbed the spot raw and it was already starting to look infected.
I’ve never wanted to euthanize every arrogant prick in this city more than I did right then.
The chip had to be removed, so I used my knife. The sight of bright red blood trailing down her creamy skin should’ve made my pulse race, but rather than a surge of adrenaline, all I felt was rage.
Slade had me drop him off on the outskirts of the city, telling me he didn’t even wanna know where I was headed– plausible deniability or some shit– but said if I needed something, he’d have my back.
Though a notification alerting me that the motion sensitivity on my security sensors at the cabin had been turned up pretty much confirmed he knew where I’d be taking her.
It’s the one place that’s just mine, outside of the greedy grip of The Registry. I’ve been building the place for years, fortifying it as a spot where I planned to retire someday when I finally had enough of all the bullshit.
Nobody else knows its exact location. Any workers I’ve had out here for installs beyond my skills have been from other places, and I escorted them onto the property.
When they finished, I sent them on their way with a wad of cash and a graphic description of exactly how I’d disembowel them and shove their remains down their family’s throats if they ever breathed a word about our business.
Nothing encourages selective memory quite like the threat of death and dismemberment.
On the screen in front of me, Jersey slowly looks around before sitting up in bed, tugging up the hem of her shirt to see the bandage I placed on her abdomen.
Seeing the way Harris tried to claim her, carving his fucking initial into her flesh, unleashed a red-hot murderous rage that surged through my system.
It fueled an impulsive decision to carve into her myself, changing that H into an R before raising the blade to my mouth and licking off every drop.
I’ll deal with Harris’ psychopathic ass another day. Right now, I’m fully preoccupied with my little stray.
She slides out of bed, the hem of my t-shirt brushing her thighs and swallowing her petite frame. I get this smug sense of satisfaction at seeing her in my clothes– like some part of me is still touching her, protecting her from all the other cruel assholes she’s crossed paths with.
She moves cautiously from the bedroom, and I promptly switch to the other feed, watching her wander out into the main space of the cabin.
Her brows crease as she scans the room, looking at every last detail I chose.
Slade can give me all the shit he wants for taking so long to build this place, but the delays had purpose.
Every last log for its construction was ethically sourced, and the cabin runs off of solar power and has its own septic and water filtration systems, making it an off-grid sanctuary.
Hell, I’ve got enough supplies here to disappear for as long as I want.
She pours herself a glass of water, then another. She’s been out for half a day, so her throat must be parched. She sips it as she moves from the kitchen and scans her surroundings again, eyes locking on the exterior door.
I sit up straighter.
She hesitates for a beat, fingers drumming nervously on the glass as she cocks her head to the side. Then her expression shifts as she discards the glass on the console table, and I know that fucking look. It instantly sets my teeth on edge.
She’s going to run.
I’m not sure whether it’s the possessive thirst to keep her here or the visceral urge to chase her down that has me on my feet in an instant, hustling out to intercept her.
She’s halfway to the door when I enter the living room, whipping around at the sound of my footsteps, hazel eyes widening.
“You,” she breathes.
I don’t respond, instead giving her a long once-over and deciding that she should exclusively wear my t-shirts from now on.
“Why am I here?” she asks with a trace of false bravado. “I didn’t ask you to come save me.”
I raise a brow. “Who says I did?”
Her shoulders tense, demeanor changing on a dime. “Did… did Harris pay you to bring me back?”
“No,” I scoff.
Like that shit smear could afford my services.
“Then who, The Registry?” She looks around, gesturing vaguely. “Is this just a stop on the way?”
I fold my arms across my chest, propping an elbow against the wall. “Undecided.”
She narrows her eyes. “Why am I here, then?”
“I said I’d be back, little stray, and I’m a man of my goddamn word.”
She blinks back at me, seemingly still confused. Then realization dawns and sets her eyes ablaze.
“Really?” She barks an incredulous laugh. “That’s what this is about?” Her lip curls meanly. “Aw, is the poor little Repo Man fucking butt hurt because he didn’t get a turn with me?”
I don’t answer.
I don't have to.
Something vicious flickers across her face as she spreads her arms open. “Well, come on then,” she taunts, taking a step towards me. “Take it. Do your worst.”
“My worst?” I chuckle.
“Did I stutter?” she quips as she takes another step closer, stabbing a finger into my chest and punctuating each word. “Do. your. Fucking. Worst.”
I snatch her wrist, her lips parting on a gasp.
“If I knew you had a death wish, I’d have left you with Harris.”
Her lips twist in a scowl. “Fuck you,” she spits, trying to yank her arm back.
I tighten my grip and yank her against my chest instead.
“Only if you beg.”
“I’d rather choke,” she scoffs.
I drag her hand down to my thickening cock, letting her feel exactly what her backtalk does to me. My other arm bands around her waist, pulling her even closer. “That can probably be arranged.”
Her breath hitches, cheeks flushing pink. “You really are a fucking insufferable prick.”
“And yet, here you still are,” I muse.
Her throat bobs with a swallow, tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Says the man who brought me here.”
My hand darts up, catching her jaw. “ I’m a man of my fucking word.”
Something dark and daring brews in her eyes as she blinks up at me, her chest heaving as she says, “Prove it.”
That restless fucking itch I’ve been fighting finally crawls through and takes hold. I shove my hand into her mouth, making her gag as I press down on her tongue with my thumb. “First, I’m going to prove that this mouth can do something besides piss me off.”
I drag her by the mouth to the console table, the back of it hitting her knees as I push her back onto it, releasing my hold.
She lands with a thud, then her hands move to the waistband of my grey sweats, shoving it down.
My hard cock springs free, and I swear that bratty little mouth twitches with a smile as I give myself a lazy stroke.
“Open,” I command.
She purses her lips together, that defiant spark in her eyes burning bright.
I work my jaw and spit, a glob of saliva landing on her cheeks as I repeat myself. “I said, open.”
She cracks her mouth in the slightest, like that’s going to defer me.
I like it when they bite.
I buck my hips forward, the hoop at my tip clinking against her teeth as I press into her mouth. The sting of her teeth scrapes over the smooth skin, sending a pulse right to my balls, and I grip the sides of her head, jerking it off the table as I slam into her throat.
She screams around me, spit gurgling from the corners of her mouth as her hands slap my forearms, nails digging in and raking against my skin as I pull out and slam in again.
“Fuck,” I growl as her throat flutters around me. “If your throat’s this tight, I’m going to rip that fucking cunt in half.”
She gurgles and chokes, her tongue fighting my length with every thrust as I force myself deeper, until I can feel her soft lips flush at my base. Her neck curves below me, and I swear I can see my piercing and the outline of my shaft through the thin skin at her throat.
What a perfect fucking sight.
Her lips tinge blue, fingernails clawing at my forearms. I pull out and let her go, her head thunking against the table as she drops back, coughing and sputtering for air. Tears stream down her cheeks, snot and spit stringing over her red face.
My hands grip her biceps and I drag her up like a rag doll, banding an arm around her waist before pivoting on a heel and shoving her onto the leather sectional behind me.
I fold her forward over the back of the sofa, rucking up the hem of her shirt to reveal that plump ass, then tearing it off over her head.
Her head drops lazily against the top of the cushion, lolling to the side as she pants heavily.
Her lashes flutter, eyes peering up at me while I kneel on the couch behind her, fisting my cock and lining up with her entrance.
Pressing my cock against her slit, I rock forward, dragging it through her wetness.
The little stray is fucking drenched, a needy whine slipping from her throat.
It’s all the invitation I need to rut into her like a savage, lining up and shoving in deep.
A feral scream tears from her, raw and unholy, like something wicked’s being violently ripped from her soul.
I grab onto her ass cheeks, spreading them wide so I can see the way her tight cunt strangles my cock.
Her inner walls pulse frantically around me as I pull back inch by tortuous inch, squeezing around me like she doesn’t want to let go.
I only make it halfway before driving back in, wetness already leaking down her thighs.
So she is a fucking squirter.
I blanket my body over hers, one hand palming her breast as the other moves to her swollen clit.
I rub tight circles around it, her body trembling violently beneath me as her mouth hinges open, breaths heaving from between whimpers and moans.
Spit trails from her lips and onto the leather, eyes blitzed out as a familiar sensation hums to life at the base of my spine.
I feel another gush of liquid leaking down her thighs and onto mine as she arches her back, hands reaching for me. Her nails pierce into my skin as she moans, and that has my balls seizing, spilling hot ropes of cum inside her.
“Good fucking girl, Jersey,” I growl, stroking a hand down the curve of her spine.
Her eyes flutter open, peering back at me. “Say it again,” she pants breathlessly.
“Good girl.”
“No,” she corrects, a sated smile curving her lips. “My name.”