26. Jersey
JERSEY
Asolid weight slams into my back, thick arms winding around my middle taking me down to the ground.
I barely have time to yelp before he pitches us sideways at the last second, shouldering the brunt of the impact against the forest floor.
Relief washes over me before I can even see his face, because only one person chasing me would bother breaking my fall.
Not an Enforcer.
Leaves and dirt scatter as he rolls us over, and suddenly I’m on my back, his weight pinning me to the ground as a tattooed hand closes around my throat.
“Caught you, little stray,” Talon growls.
“Let. Me. Go,” I huff, shoving uselessly against his hard chest.
The corner of his mouth tilts in a smirk. “Not a fuckin’ chance.”
I buck and writhe beneath him, breath coming out in ragged pants. His icy blue eyes are blazing with the same adrenaline still tearing through my veins as he dips his head down, tongue trailing along my jaw before his teeth sink into my earlobe. I yelp, and he chuckles in amusement.
“The fight is my favorite part.”
I keep twisting, determined to free myself. He just shifts forward, knees bracketing my ribcage as he sits back on his heels and undoes his fly, shoves his jeans down to free his cock.
I swallow roughly at the sight of it, because I swear it’s even bigger than I remember. The silver hoop pierces through the tip, the shaft thick and veiny.
I can’t believe that thing fit inside me.
He gives himself a lazy stroke, toying with the hoop piercing as a bead of precum leaks from his tip.
“I’m not done with you, Jersey.”
Something about the way he says my name sends waves of warm static prickling beneath my skin, tightening my throat and my chest.
I spent years as A311. Each time I was called by that fucking number, it felt like another piece of me was being torn off and discarded– like Jersey Ellis was edging closer to being completely wiped from the world, converted to property.
Sometimes, it felt like it was only a matter of time before I forgot who I was before they took me. Before I forgot my own name.
But Talon uses it constantly.
Every time he says it, I feel this little tug somewhere in my chest, like he’s stitching all those tattered pieces together and reminding me that I'm still in here; still me.
I hate how much I like hearing my name on his lips.
“Stick out your tongue,” he commands.
I arch an eyebrow, lips pursing defiantly.
“Fine,” he huffs, still stroking himself as he draws back. “I’ve got no problem tearing into this sweet little cunt dry.”
My belly swoops, eyes widening. I’m not sure whether I’m more turned on by his words, or the promise of him being inside me again.
I open my mouth to comply with his directive, tongue jutting out.
He just smirks. “Too late,” he growls, jaw flexing before a glob of spit lands on my tongue.
My eyes narrow, and I spit it right back, my saliva hitting his cheek. “Get off.”
“Oh,” he murmurs, hands gripping the collar of the t-shirt I’m wearing. “I plan to.”
Fabric shreds as he rips the shirt straight down the middle, cool air rushing over my exposed skin. He grins in satisfaction, then shoves a hand down between us, cupping my mound. “You like being chased, don’t you?” he muses, teasing a finger along my seam. “You’re fucking soaked.”
A needy moan slips from my throat before I can swallow it down, heat flooding my cheeks as embarrassment crawls in right behind the pleasure. My teeth sink into my bottom lip before another sound can escape.
“Hey,” Talon barks, his other hand sliding up the column of my neck to grip my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I pant.
“This,” he says, the pad of his thumb tugging on my bottom lip and pulling it free. “Don’t fucking hide.”
My heart stutters a beat.
“If you like it, then fucking own it, Jersey.” The intensity in his blue-eyed stare steals my breath, his fingers flexing around my throat. “There’s no shame in wanting to feel good.”
My mouth parts, but nothing comes out.
What am I supposed to say to that?
That I’ve never truly enjoyed sex before? That I didn’t even know it could feel good, even when it hurts?
That I like the chase, the fight? Being overpowered and fucked hard, so long as it’s Talon doing it?
The thought of admitting that feels vile. Because if I like this, what does that mean about everything Commander Martin did? If my body can crave the same things with Talon that used to make me want to crawl out of my own skin in disgust, does that somehow make what happened back then okay?
No.
My body picks up on the distinction quicker than my brain, responding to Talon in ways it never has before. Some damaged part of me still wants to turn it into something shameful, but it isn’t. Not if I want it. Not if I’m choosing it.
His fingers pinch my clit, my back arching as he pulls me back into the moment.
“That’s right, show me,” he coaxes, fingers rubbing rough circles as his other hand slides up my stomach, grabbing the edge of the medical tape and ripping the bandage off my stomach. “Show me whose pussy this really is.”
My head tilts, eyes peering down at the raised scabs on my stomach. After remembering what Harris had carved into me, I was glad for the bandage so I didn’t have to look at it. But seeing it now, it’s not an H anymore, it’s…
“Did you carve your initial over his?” I demand, bristling.
His finger traces over it. “You weren’t his to claim.”
I smack his hand away with a scowl. “I’m not yours either, asshole.”
His expression shifts, eyes going feral. Gripping the base of his cock, he lines himself up, and I scream as he slams into me, burying himself to the hilt. My muscles seize, hands flying to his chest as my body struggles to accommodate the sudden burning stretch.
He catches both of my wrists in one hand, wrenching them above my head and pinning them there.
“You’re a fucking liar.” He rolls his hips, a violent shiver racing through me. “You’re mine to possess.”
His lips crash against mine, hard and brutal, our teeth clashing as he forces his tongue into my mouth. He tastes every corner, biting my bottom lip as he roughly pulls back.
“Mine to fucking ruin.”
He dips his head down, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth. I gasp, arching into it.
“Mine to fucking keep.”
He rocks back, shifting to his knees as his hands release my wrists and settle at my hips.
“You’re all fucking mine, Jersey,” he snarls, fingers digging bruises into my thighs as he wrenches my legs apart before slamming back inside.
And god fucking help me– I like hearing him say it.