41
TATE
Her presence wakes me up.
I don’t care how insane that might sound, because it’s true. I feel her.
Havoc’s here.
Holy fuck. My girl is in our Bonded chambers again. Finally.
Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine . . .
With the chant in my mind, I’m overflowing with possessiveness and need and love as I rise from bed in nothing but my boxer briefs, the outline of my already-hardened cock clear through them.
Perfect. How can she resist me with my big dick? I’m sure the way to her heart starts there.
And I want her heart more than anything.
My cock might constantly be begging for her, but she’s irresistible like that. I want to be buried inside her 24/7. I want that closeness, that intimacy, her pleasure and mine . . . all her secrets seeping into me while I give her anything she desires in return.
I don’t have secrets—all that’s in my mind is her. But she can have all I do have to give, and then some.
Havoc, Havoc, Havoc, Havoc . . .
My door opens with a soft woosh as I move out into the hallway stealthily, the only sound to meet my ears the excited breaths I work to control.
A dim inky-crimson glow moves further into my Havoc’s untouched dark bedroom, and I speed over, trying hard to be as quiet as possible as I move close enough to the door that the sensors pick up on me and don’t lock me out in case it’s set to automatic lock; we can change the settings of our bedroom doors on the panels beside them on the inside of our rooms, and we’re able to choose them to lock behind us with a scan of our thumbs or to close us in on their own when they sense we’ve passed.
Letting out a quiet breath of relief when it stays open, entire body tingling with anticipation, I peek my head through the doorway, wetting my lips as I greedily absorb the stunning goddess before me.
My girl places her helmet on the bedside table, her long dark chestnut hair spilling down her back to stop just above her round ass.
Next, she opens the top drawer and pulls her armoury sticks from her back before placing them inside, her movements all so smooth, so controlled.
Then it’s her gloves, and I watch fixatedly as each delicate-looking finger is freed from the protective material.
But nothing about her is delicate.
She’s so perfect I want to merge into her, to intertwine our beings so deeply she will never be able to leave me. She’ll feel me with her always.
Havoc bends down to take off her boots, placing them neatly beside the drawers with her socks, and a quiet grunt leaves me at that perfect view. Fuck, I just want to slide my cock between those cheeks and—
My girl has straightened and is now pulling her zipper down.
Breath hitching, my hand flies down to palm my dick over my underwear, feeling the wet patch from my pre-cum.
Fuck yeah, Havoc, baby. Give me a show.
And she does, slowly dragging her Avri suit down her body while my eyes obsessively study every dip and curve exposed, every inch of that silky skin that I still can’t believe I actually felt, got to touch.
All the while, my palm rubs up and down my cock, feeling the piercings through the thin material covering them.
She’ll love them so much—I did as much research as I could after I realised my obsession with her, my love for her, knowing I’d have to have her and desperate to be able to please my girl as much as possible, and I’d heard the barbells could rub her tight fucking walls in just the right way.
My hand picks up its speed when Havoc straightens, and heat spreads throughout my lower back and all around the rest of my body.
Until her head turns marginally to the side.
I still.
She’s truly otherworldly, her milky-olive skin only lit by a faint glow of the red Avri in a pile on the floor and the low white lights from the hallway spilling through the open doorway.
“I know you are there.”
My heart lurches.
Of course she does. Me and my Havoc are made for each other. I knew she’d be able to sense me nearby.
The organ in my chest pumping simmering blood through my veins, I step forwards, my shadow blocking the luminance from outside the room, highlighting that lethal crimson bathing her. It doesn’t escape my notice that the door still hasn’t closed, and she’s smart enough to know how to work it.
She left it open for me.
“And you gave me such a treat?” My voice is low, gravelly. I’m ravenous for her.
She stays silent.
Never to be deterred, I stalk closer like an animal hunting his prey.
But we both know there are only predators here.
She tracks me, all her deadly attention on me, and a violent thrill shoots through me.
“I can feel your obsession—through the bond.”
Another step closer. “And my love?”
She doesn’t respond to that.
I run my tongue over the bottom of my top teeth. “I love you, you know that?”
Still no reply.
My eyes narrow slightly, but she turns around fully before I can demand she acknowledge my feelings for her, revealing the right side of her face, the savage luminous scar and that red iris, and a moan comes out my mouth instead.
“Goddamn . . . you’re even more breathtaking up close.
” Now before her, I reach up to stroke her face.
In a flash, her hand catches mine in a vice-like grip before I can touch her, and I ignite completely, loving the feel of her strong hold, her bare skin on mine.
Fucking hell, that was so hot.
“Ferocious goddess.” I grin, and I know she can see the delight and ardour in my gaze.
“Go back to your room, Player.”
My face falls in a heartbeat, chest constricting in a blend of anger and hurt.
She calls me that as though my fingers haven’t been stuffed inside her, as if we didn’t share something so precious and momentous to me less than forty-eight hours ago. As if I’m just some random Player in The Bonding Games with no significance to her, whose feelings don’t matter.
My fingers flex in her grip that never relents. “Player?” I repeat lowly, dangerously, as I step closer. “You know damn well I’m more than that.”
She drops my hand like it scorched her, eyes narrowing to slits. “Not to me. You mean no more than the rest.”
Nostrils flaring, I snap harshly, “Bullshit. I love you. I—”
“I am not here to appease your fragile heart. I am not to blame for you putting your infatuation on the wrong woman,” she says cruelly, voice colder than ice.
An animalistic snarl leaves me, and I shove myself into her with all my body weight, catching her off guard and pinning her to the onyx wall behind her.
“Infatuation?” I seethe. “You really think this is infatuation?!” I rake my eyes over her obsessively before a hand snatches up her throat, wrapping around the slim column like a collar and tipping her head back.
“I have been obsessed with you for five. Fucking. Years. I have been in love with you, for years! And you have the damn nerve to call it infatuation?! When you can feel me through the bond?!”
“Obsession. Love. I do not care. You will never have me.”
A bitter laugh leaves me, and I shake my head, control slipping and slipping. I don’t ever usually get angry with her, not for anything, but now I am pissed.
“Oh yeah? And what if I take you?”
She hisses like a black mamba. “Get. Your. Hand. Off. Me.”
My face dips even closer to hers, a palm pressing to the cool taalk beside her head. “Are you sure you want it gone? Don’t pretend like you can’t easily break my hold.”
Havoc stares me down.
I run my tongue slowly along my lower lip, breathing laboured as it narrowly misses hers. I want to kiss her so bad.
Let me kiss you, Havoc, baby.
She tenses, as if she heard that.
Oh, fuck yes. The love of my life is in my head.
And she’s not moving.
You want me. I know you do. Let me have you.
When I draw her in with the hand still encircling her throat, the flutter of her pulse seeping into me and enhancing my need to devour her . . . she doesn’t resist.
And any lingering restraint shatters.
My mouth slams down on hers.
Explosions go off in my mind, in my body.
Any information I’ve learned about technique from my research escapes me, but I don’t give a fuck as I plunge my tongue into her mouth, licking up every ounce of her.
And with a rush of dizziness from the rapture that fills me to overflowing, I notice she doesn’t either.
Because Ezla, The Bonding Games Champion, my Havoc, my girl . . . she kisses me back.
Her tongue meets mine with equal ferocity, caresses me so fucking beautifully, the wet heat sliding over my own hungrily, and she moves her hand abruptly to bury it in the longer strands of my hair, gripping them mercilessly.
With a growl, my knees bend as my palms glue to her thighs, and I snatch her up like I’ve always wanted to, crashing her against the wall like a beast untamed.
Rutting my cock right against her hot cunt through the thin layers of our clothing, her breasts encased by her bra press firmly to my bare chest, squished against me gloriously.
I break away with a moan, and I’m so delirious, so full of wild emotions—lust, love, exhilaration, pleasure—that a manic, short breath of a laugh escapes me while I thrust my hips up again, grinding myself into her like my dick could punch a hole through the materials separating us and find that slick heat.
Long legs locking behind me to secure her in place, Havoc rolls her hips in response, and I see stars, eyes rolling back in my head.
The action encourages one of my hands to leave her thigh and slide between the wall and her ass, gripping a handful of the bare flesh, fingertip grazing the edge of her tiny little thong that I like to imagine she wore just for me.
“Tate.”
My lungs fail me, and everything else within me stutters, too.
Before going haywire.
She said my name. She. Said. My. Fucking. Name.
“Baby,” I rasp, voice raw and bleeding my love and obsession and bottomless need all over her. “Baby, again, please. Havoc, please say my name again.”