Blood to Dust(36)

“I can have any * in the world. . .and the only one that I want is as toxic as poison ivy.”

“Beat.” I place my mouth on his salty skin. I have no idea what I’m licking with the blindfold on. It’s even more of a turn-on. “You can have me. We could have it all. I’ve got the money. We can f*ck and run away, start over and leave this mess.”

I guess Nate is too drunk to even comprehend what I just suggested, because he snarls and tugs at the fabric of my gray dress, wanting to strip me naked but too drunk to know how.

“He’ll kill me if I f*ck you.” He grabs me by the ass and lifts me upwards, nuzzling his perfect, straight nose into my throat and sucking. Sex is a powerful drive, and for a young man recently out of prison? It just might throw him off a cliff. “But maybe I deserve death. And maybe. . .” His teeth find my earlobe, tugging. “Maybe I don’t even care anymore.”

“Fuck me,” I whisper into his mouth again, both of us shuddering with looming release.

His hands leave my body and disappointment slams into me, but only for a second, because then I hear him patting his back pocket and producing what might be his wallet. I hear him yanking out a condom and ripping the wrapper open.

“No foreplay,” he grunts.

“No problem.” I lick his skin again. He could probably drill a missile into me and I’d be fine with it. Yes, he is business, but oh, how I enjoy working my charm on him.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone.” I hear the sticky rubber as he rolls the condom on and butterflies take over my chest. Am I happy because I’m close to securing my freedom, because I’m about to have sex with an obviously out-of-this-world mysterious ex-felon with a banging body or because I’ve played this scene in my head more times than I’d like to admit ever since I fell into his captivity?

You guessed it. All three.

“Are you telling me this because you’re going to come fast?”

His hands find my waist again and spin me, throwing my body hard against the concrete with a thud. He yanks my underwear down to my knees, pulls my dress over my ass and smacks it lightly. “That too. But mostly, because it’s going to be brutal.”

He takes my ass cheeks in his hands, pulls me up so that my behind is against his erection and plows into me in one go.

Shit. He is huge. And I don’t mean good-huge, either. No. He is this-should-come-with-a-warning-label huge. I cry out in pain, my nails digging into the wall for comfort, but nothing can dull the agony of having him inside me. Nate’s so thick, my thighs spread open automatically even in this position. And he’s so long, he hits my G-spot without even trying, which is good, because he isn’t trying to please me.

And I’m pretty certain having sex with him is the equivalent of experiencing natural birth.

“Jesus,” I moan, not exactly sure if it’s from pleasure or pain. Instead of pumping into me, his fingers dig into the flesh of my ass, moving me in the rhythm of his frantic trance. Brutally. Repeatedly. Urgently.

“Shut the f*ck up, Pea.” He disregards me as his cock hits my G-spot hard again, making my mouth water with an impending orgasm. It’s not pretty. It’s not even sultry. His moves are rusty, feral, manic. He is f*cking me like he is trying to kill me, each thrust like a knife that sends my forehead banging against the wall. His desperate growls release something that’s been buried deep inside him. It’s angry sex, but it’s not me he’s angry at. No. I’m just a hole he spills the rage he’s collected over the years into.

He f*cks me because he wants to ruin what belongs to Godfrey Archer and his son, and I let him, for the exact same reason.

His hand slams my ass, and I arch my back in response, my head thrown to the wall with a bang. It’s like he poured hot water all over me. He doesn’t rub or kiss it better, and after the first shot of pain. . .bliss. Pure bliss.

“Do it again.”

“Don’t f*cking tell me what to do.”

But he spanks me again, and I wail his name.

“Beat,” I say with a shudder, chanting like a prayer to the sex god behind me, knowing that I should keep my mouth shut, but also that I can’t stop. He slams so deep into me, my voice box produces groans and sobs unintentionally.

“Yes. . .oh. . .oh. . .Nate.”

No. No. No.

His body stiffens behind me and goosebumps bloom on his skin down to his fingertips. He’s still inside me, his breathing ragged.

I’m not sure what scares me more, the fact that he hasn’t spoken in a few seconds, the fact that he’s still inside me, expanding my body like someone shoved a chair into me, or the fact that my * swells around him, hot and even more turned on by my fear. I gulp.

“Ink?” he asks dryly. I nod, partly telling the truth.

“God f*cking dammit,” he hisses, still hard as stone. “How long have you known?”

I squeeze my swollen eyelids together.

“A while.”

“Prescott,” he warns.

“A week.”

Body frozen with fear, I feel his hand as he brushes my hair away and kisses the nape of my neck, his other hand still holding my ass up in the air so that I’m on my tiptoes. He releases a long pained breath. I swallow hard as his silence fills every inch of the room.

“Are you going to kill me or f*ck me?” My lips tremble.