CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rush
“B lanks, Jessie.” I say this as she screams.
One of her hands hits between her tits like she can’t breathe.
“I’m okay,” I add, just to be clear.
Like I’m giving anyone a loaded gun to point at me. I’m not an idiot.
Her pretty tits shake as she vibrates with anger.
“You…fucking…asshole. Goddamn you, Rush.”
I point a finger at her. “You pulled the trigger.”
“You told me to!”
“Yeah,” I say, “but you still did it.”
She points at me, nipples included because they’re deliciously hard. I want to suck them again. “I didn’t point at you, fuck head. I pointed to your right. You leapt in front of the bullet like some kind of kamikaze freak.”
“I don’t think you can say that.” Then I grin. “And…”
“What?”
“Blanks.” I spread my hands.
She isn’t looking impressed at my switch out or my joke.
“Give me your gun.”
“I’m not letting someone with your violent issues point a loaded gun at me.” I take it, switch out the rounds. I grin. “We should really up the stakes. I was thinking about tying you to the target and using this. I reach under my bench and pull out a paintball gun. “Fucking you covered in paint might be fun. But I think we can do better.”
“Who said we’re going to fuck?”
“We’re going to fuck.” I look at her. “How about this, whoever gets closest to three bullseyes in a row gets to choose how we do it.”
“Can I have my gun?”
“Are you gonna shoot me, Jessie?”
“No. But I’m going to win.”
I hand her the gun.
The cockiness that blooms on her face is hot. Tragic, because I’m going to destroy it, but hot.
“Or the winner gets to say no sex.” Her eyes narrow.
“Until,” I say, “we have sex.”
“Never.”
“Baby, I already went down on you because you wanted it. To be fair, so did I—”
“To be fair,” she says, “I made you.”
I crowd her and kiss her slowly, a seduction of a kiss that leaves me reeling, too.
“To be fair, Jessie,” I say against her soft lips, “I let you do that. I liked it.”
“Screw you, Rush.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Fine. How many shots?”
I pretend to think about it. “Five.” Then I gesture to the fresh targets. “Ladies first. And you.”
“Dick.”
Her shot’s close.
I go wide.
She gets closer with her next shot.
I go wider with mine.
Jessie’s smug now, and she tries, looking at her target, lining up, and then she turns, looks at me witheringly, and pulls the trigger. It’s nice, it really is. The bullet hits close. Right in the nine.
“Pretty good,” I say.
“Do better.”
I aim, hit the bullseye.
Jessie sucks in a breath then turns, gives me a cocky look that’s so smoldering, I’d never be convicted if I threw the game and kissed and fingered her into fucking.
“Luck,” she says. And takes her turn on her target.
Almost a bullseye.
I pull my trigger. And I look. The bullet hit mine where I got the last one. Bullseye on bullseye. It’s my favorite game.
This time her eyes narrow. “You…”
“Luck?” I raise a brow and smirk. Hardcore.
“Asshole.”
She spends time lining up and adjusting, until, finally, she holds her aim and looks at me. Jess pulls the trigger. The bullet hits inside the bullseye, but not dead center.
It’s my turn.
I think about missing.
I do.
I think about it.
Dismiss it.
This is war, and I intend to win. I aim, look at her, and pull the trigger. Her gasp tells me everything.
I pull the targets up and remove the rounds, putting the guns away under lock and key.
“How…” Her hands slam on her hips. “How did you do that?”
“I can shoot, Jess. I’m an excellent marksman. I can fight, too. I can kill. I can break bones. I can do all the fucked up things Nikolai does. He trained me to be a survivor, to thrive.”
To kill after I killed Ben when I was nine. Because as he said, it’s an art, an ugly one, but an art. Learn to do it and you won’t accidentally kill.
He never blamed me for Ben.
Ben betrayed us, but I didn’t…I didn’t mean it and he knows it, and I also know if Nikolai could change it and kill Ben himself, he would.
Even now.
And I hate the burden that sits on him. The blame for me doing what I did as a kid.
But if Nikolai had pulled that trigger he wouldn’t have even blinked.
Nikolai would have tortured him for taking me. Then killed him.
And it’d be just another day for him.
Nikolai has the darkness I don’t. No matter how hard I’ve tried, I can’t go there.
It’s part of my failure.
Shoving it all away, I look at her.
“Thing is, I’m not him and I never will be.”
I’m a fuck up, I know that.
“But make no mistake, even though I’m not Nikolai caliber, I can be deadly if I want.”
She grabs me, slams me into the bench and kisses me hard and deep and violent. Her hands are on me. She pushes her hand into my boxer briefs, and starts to jack me and oh, fuck me, it’s beyond hot.
Jess looks up at me. “So can I.”
I grab her hand and pull it from my underwear. I turn her, twist her arm back, and with one foot, I kick up my belt, catching it with my free hand.
She starts trying to pull free, but I’m stronger than her, so I press down, and I use the belt to tie and lock her hands behind her back, buckling it.
Then I lean over her, aware of the heat that’s a furnace between her thighs, aware of the soft flesh of her as I push my still-sheathed dick against her.
Fuck, I want to bury myself in her, deep.
I want her cunt, her ass. I want her mouth.
What I’d do for those soft lips wrapped about my dick.
But I let her go because it’s time for payback, fun . I stand back, wanting to stroke my cock, but not wanting to rush things.
“You look good like that,” I say as she struggles up.
She half spins, hot generous tits bouncing. Guess I’ve never gotten over big tits.
She glares. “Trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey?”
“No, I’d have to stuff you full and paint you in gravy.” Okay, now I grab my cock, just so she gets my drift.
Her panties have a delightful wet patch. They’re the thinnest cotton, like super thin, and peach. They sit low on her hips, molding in against her, and I can see the prettiest fucking camel toe on the planet. I can see her cunt through that soaked material.
I know what it tastes like, too.
Pure, depraved divinity.
“You’re disgusting.” She wiggles, writhes, tits bouncing even more, all those tattoos alive and the fading stitches just add to her delicate bad girl vibe.
I have no idea where delicate just came from. I’d love to say her ink, but that’s more a personification of the hidden parts of her, both the beauty and the danger. No, I think it’s because I know she’s up to something and I don’t think she wants to be.
All her questions, those tits with the hard nipples—I mean her probing me on little things about the estate are hesitant, holding the tiny sparks of soft underbelly, that tell me there’s delicate in there.
And I want to pound it into submission.
Fuck, for her, I’d get down on my knees and let her direct me.
But not this time.
“Yeah?” I say, running fingers lightly over my cock. Her eyes hungry on the motion, it’s a little torture show for both of us because I’m already beyond aroused. I stroke again. “But you’re the one who seems to fucking get off on disgusting.”
“Not with you.”
“So the orgasms? Fake?”
“Because I was in command.”
“Let’s try it this way. I’ll give you to ten to run and get out of the belt. If not…”
Her eyes flash and I swear to fucking god even that short punky, pixie red hair sparks. “Start counting.”
“I already have.”
She turns, runs, stops at the door, realizing she’s almost naked, but then she gives me the hottest fuck you look ever, and dashes out into the sun.
Shit.
I take off after her, and she’s fucking fit, fucking fast, fucking hot prey.
Jess almost reaches a copse of trees. God only knows who’s out here, not in the grounds but on the edges, watching. Hopefully, they’re doing their fucking jobs and looking outward, not in.
Not that I care.
Do I care?
I didn’t used to care if anyone saw me fuck. Sometimes it’s way hotter that way, drilling into a willing pussy or mouth or even ass and someone’s there, catching a whole lotta eye candy and wet dreams.
But I don’t think I want anyone looking at those magnificent breasts, or her wet patch that shows off her other goods by turning the panties not only into a camel toe adventure but a viewing experience of the delights beneath.
I speed up and lunge, catching the belt, and she almost hits the grass, face first. My other arm that grabs her waist and stops her.
Jess grunts and she’s warm, lithe, and my fingers touch the spidery silk of the stitches.
I lift her up and sling her over my shoulder where she tries to get free.
“Forget it, Jessie, I’m not letting you down, not even if you rip your stitches.”
“Creep.”
“Pervert. You get off on it. I bet you fucking love blood play.”
She makes a small sound as she twists and sinks her teeth into the side of my neck.
My cock twitches, hard.
Fuck me, maybe I like that side of things, too.
She’s like a whole new book. And I like kinky. The me tied up, me rough handling, and doing this, me on my knees because she’s got a leash on me, all that’s really hot. And new.
“You want me to peg you.”
“No, I want my cock up your ass.”
I stride barefoot across the grass, back to the shooting range.
“What are you going to do?” she demands, biting me again and I push my throat into her mouth. She gives me that nip and it feels fucking good. “Shoot me?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” I cross the range to the main ammunition and weapons room. There are cuffs in there, cuffs I put there, because when I was thinking of getting in some practice with her, getting back at her had been in my head.
Jess shackled and on her knees. My cock in her mouth.
What a goddamned dream. But I dump her facedown on the table in there, and kick the door shut. It doesn’t take much to snap on the cuffs, and she’s struggling so much that she barely notices.
“Stay.”
I push my hand on her back and she struggles more. “I’m not a dog.”
“But you are my little captive.”
I want to be everywhere, all at once, but I force myself to breathe, and she catches sight of the two-way mirror-style wall. This side’s like a window, the other looks like a wall unless you get close. Security, Nikolai says. Right now, though, my mind’s elsewhere, lower, gutter and dirt and mud levels.
Her momentary stillness lets me pull her panties off. I do it Band Aid fast, stroking my finger through the hot wetness of her cunt as I do so.
“You’re an asshole, you’re—”
I shove them in her mouth and now all she does is make delightfully depraved sounds. And I drop my underwear.
Finally, I wrap my fingers about my aching hot cock. It’s both a moment of relief and a hike in self-inflicted torture.
My hand’s not ever going to be enough, not with that ass, and not with that pussy. Her legs are parted as she writhes, trying to kick me, and I pump my shaft, parting her cunt with two fingers. “I can shut you up with my fist in your cunt if you want.”
She moans.
“Or one finger, two. Four. Take your pick.”
The filth just drips from me, I want her writhing in a different way.
“I bet you look phenomenal spread open, gaping, your cunt shaped exactly to the girth of my cock, or my fist.” She jerks again, whimpers.
I’m not about to fist her. For starters, I’m not sure my hand’s going to fit in her, and that kind of extreme sexual sport isn’t my thing. Threatening her with it, now that is. And from the way she drips juice, I think that threat gets her hot.
“Or I could arrange a whole train of guys. Mouth, cunt, ass. I bet a pretty little punk chick like you’d want that.” I stop.
Those words don’t sit right.
I don’t want to share her.
I don’t want anyone looking at the glory of her sans clothes. I pump my cock some more, slowly, running my thumb over the head as I admire the tattoo right on her upper inner thigh. I don’t know how I missed it. A tiny bee. Beautiful.
I want to castrate the fuck who did it.
Because where it is, that dude got to see her cunt up close. It’s more intimate than the work on her mons, though I want him, dead, too, if it’s another guy. She probably fucked him. Fucked them both.
Fuck. I hoover in air. Now I’m jealous of some person—or persons—I’ve never met.
What if it was a woman?
Oh. Man… I’m torn. If she went down on Jessie, that’d be hot, but I still might have to kill her for touching her, for seeing Jessie’s goods.
“Fucking little witch,” I mutter as I trace the bee, and she shudders. “Getting me hot.”
Getting me jealous over a past and a life.
I start to finger her slowly, two of them up in her cunt.
“This is the thing. I like the idea of sharing you, but I don’t think I want to. I don’t think I like you having been touched before.”
She makes sounds like she’s telling me off, spitting Jessie fire.
And I laugh.
Christ she’s the hottest thing on the planet.
I tangle a hand in her hair, and pull her head up as I bend over her, fingering her harder. “You make me want to talk such filth. You tempt me to do it, just to see. But that? Letting other men fuck you? Other women? Nope. No way. I think that I want to keep you. As mine.”
Keep her.
The words roll through me and a bolt of need shoots to the tip of my cock, making my balls tighten.
I pull out my fingers and I slam into her, balls deep, shuddering as I’m seated where I belong.
In her.
I lick her ear, bite her lobe. “Oh, fuck, Jessie, you are tight. So fucking hot. You’re a furnace and it feels beyond good. I could stay here, hard, in you.”
But I pull back, and I bite and suck her nape before letting her go and straightening. I watch as my cock comes nearly all the way out of that wetness, that tunnel of sweet depravity, savoring every fucking inch and how she sucks at me, like her cunt doesn’t want to let me go.
She tries to push back, but I stay.
Just long enough to torture myself. Then I slam back into her. I grab her ass cheeks, pull them apart to watch, to see that asshole wrenched open, just a little by my hands, to see my cock saw into her.
I just give into it; I fuck her hard and deep and rough. She’s grunting, making sounds, trapped and slave to my mercy, which I have none of.
Her cunt starts to tighten and I don’t stop myself, I’m already on the verge. I hammer into her, pounding her down into the table as my whole body turns electric, buzzes, and I let myself go, coming hard in her.
I shudder, shake, and I’m totally fucking gone.
The orgasm takes my whole being and transports me to another plane.
As I start to come down, I collapse on her, kissing her back, her cheek, throat. Nape.
Jessie’s breathing hard, her body both pliable and shaking.
I didn’t let her come.
But I’m not finished.
I pull out and use some of the combined fluids to paint her asshole because it’s not going to take me long to get hard again, and—
“Rush?”
She goes stiff.
We’re both looking at the mirror.
Nikolai stands there in the shooting range, frowning, his suit a dark charcoal, probably his favorite of the charcoal suits that are all the same. He’s got one hand in his pocket and he’s holding my jeans. Then, he looks straight at the room we’re in.
I tuck myself away, brushing my hair back, and I walk out leaving her trussed up, unfulfilled and probably nuclear angry at this point.
“Hey, dude. What’s up?”
Nikolai runs his eyes down me, and his lip curls, just a little. But he doesn’t call me out. Mainly, I think, because I’m betting he’s fucked Rose every which way in here.
“Nikolai,” he corrects. “I won’t ask. Just put my handcuffs back before I return. You learn anything?”
I narrow my eyes. “From when I collected payouts earlier?” I shake my head. “Nope.” Then I edge closer. “How did you know about the handcuffs?”
“I always know, Rush. Just…” He stops, then he leans in. “What the fuck did I say about fucking her?”
“To do it?”
“How the fuck did I raise such a brat? Dante’s better behaved than you.”
“You just say that because you like that cat more than anyone.”
“Don’t be an idiot.” But there’s a tiny, and I mean, tiny smile. Then, his eyes turn cold. “Just remember what we talked about.”
“Always. Just having some fun.”
With that, he heads out, clearly off to do something.
Before I did my job earlier, he told me not to fuck her again, but honestly, we both knew that was a hard ask, like don’t eat the cookies. Of course, I’m going to eat the cookies. Of course, I’m going to fuck the hot chick.
But he wants me to find out her angle, find out what she knows about the gang, the Ten64. I’m doing it. My way.
And someone like Jess isn’t going to respond to hard core pushing. Unless it’s sexual, speaking of…
I sweep up our clothes and go back in the room, dumping them, and I look at her.
My breath vanishes.
I’m punched.
In the balls. The stomach.
The heart.
The view is spectacular.
Jessie’s trying to get free, her thighs splayed as her legs kick and her cunt…oh man, it’s open from our fucking, dripping thick fluid. I drop to my knees.
She squeals around the panties as my tongue touches her.
I lap up our juices, licking and kissing her inner and outer lips, tonguing her slit. I kiss and lick her upper inner thighs, then I move up once I’ve got what I want—a heady nectar that’s us—and I lick over her ass, biting one cheek, then the other. Finally, I pull them apart and I tongue over her starfish, adding a finger, pushing it into her, while my other fingers push inside her cunt.
It’s a slow seduction to bring her to orgasm and when she comes, the clenching on my fingers from her pussy and her ass are delicious.
Next time, when I come inside her—ass or cunt—I’m letting her come on my cock.
I release her, and she shoves me over and scrambles up, flinging her panties at my face.
“You bastard!”
“You liked me fucking you.”
She’s not listening. She’s pulling on her clothes in jerky movements. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to sneak up and make me come like that. You don’t get to make me feel—”
“What?” I pull on my clothes, too. “You came, we had fun.”
“You had fun. You…”
“Why are you mad?”
But she just shakes her head, and takes off out the door, me hot on her heels. I grab her arm and pull her to a stop. “Don’t, Rush.”
“It was just fun,” I say, trying to rein in some of her frustration.
“I don’t—I don’t let people do that, take like that. You took me, made me come like I’m yours, and I don’t belong to anyone.”
“Jess…” Fuck. I don’t understand this. At all. It was fun, there was a connection that went beyond bones, and into something else. I wanted her to come. I wanted her to belong to me, and I realize I did it in a way that might have said I belong to her.
But it’s not a forever belonging, it’s just…
Sex.
Right?
“Jess, if I crossed a line, I’m sorry.”
Her hand twists in my sweater as I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head. “Sex is sex. Don’t do it like it means something. Okay?”
“How about this?” I ask. The word okay dies in my mouth because I’m not okay with that. “I’ll make you dinner?”
“Can you cook?”
“No, but I make a mean box of mac and cheese.”
She laughs, shoves me away. “I need a shower first.”
I keep going over it all as I shower. I want more. I’m going to have more but…I’m not sure why she got so upset. Who the fuck gets upset when they come?
We’re playing and then that’s her breaking point?
I sigh as I dry off and dress. Maybe I should talk about it?
But that’s the thing with Jess, she’s got a stubborn hands-off streak. I look at Dante who’s sitting on my bed acting way too innocent.
“If you brought in a mouse,” I say.
He sticks a leg out and licks it.
“You want mac and cheese?”
He doesn’t look up.
“I bet there’s chicken.”
He chirps and jumps off the bed, padding out.
I head to where Jess’s room is, but she’s not there.
Frowning, I head down, an unsettled feeling churning in my guts. Where the fuck is she? Nikolai’s office is locked, and as I check the kitchen, I weave back through, finally heading to the small library.
I stop.
She’s there, a drawer in the side table open and papers in her hands.
Jess looks guilty as fuck.
She’s clearly snooping.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask.