Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4)(56)

“Sure, what else can a pet do?”

“Pet is good, Elle. Pet is very good,” Ronnie answered.

“Meaning?”

“Before I forget; I left a pair of jeans and some toiletries in the chest of drawers,” Ronnie said changing the subject.

As cryptic as her brother.

Elle was about to push the issue when Jack came through the door and shot a nasty look her way.

“Wait a second, the ass just came in.” Elle handed the phone to Jack. “Your sister.”

A couple of nods and “yes,” and he hung up. Probably reading her mind, he put the phone on the pocket of his jeans, glaring at her.

“How long do you think you can keep me incommunicado here?”

“As long as it takes,” he replied arrogantly.

“So you had the time to stay in contact with Ronnie and talk to Mullen and whatnot but you don’t have the smidgen of decency needed to answer my questions, right?”

“I don’t give a shit about decency,” he grunted, piling the wood near the fireplace. “And you don’t need to know.”

Didn’t that say it all.

She was so angry she turned her back on him while he got the fire started. She wasn’t spending any more saliva on this moron.

“You hungry? There are some MREs.”

She didn’t even dignify this with an answer. She went to the bedroom and slammed the door.

Apparently, Jack didn’t speak Woman fluently, because he thought that was an invitation to follow her.

She gathered his duffel bags and shoved them at him. “You take the sofa.”

He grabbed them, left them on the floor, and then looked at her defiantly. “No.”

“Fine,” she retorted, picking up her things. That was, the shoes she’d taken off and her useless, empty minipurse. Such irony; this was the first time she’d left without her own phone. “I’ll take the sofa.” Or bed of nails. Whatever that was.

Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, she was airborne, and then landed on the bed, Jack between her legs, looming over her.

She was totally overpowered, so she went for dignified and stayed furiously silent. Defiant, while he kissed her ravenously, forcing his way into her mouth, his tongue pushing in.

When he let her up for air, she tried to make her voice sound even. “Not talking to you. You don’t need to kiss me to shut me up. I’ll appreciate if you’d get off me now.”

He didn’t budge an inch. Eyes fierce. His expression a snarl. “I tried to stay away from you. I warned you. You didn’t stay away. Now you have to face what you find. Own it. You don’t get to run when things don’t go your way. You knew what you were getting into when you asked me to f*ck you.”

Pardon? “I didn’t ask you to take over my life and nullify me. Turn me into a wallflower.”

“A wallflower doesn’t have this effect on me,” he said, pressing his erection against her.

She was pissed, but she was turned on, too, so she threw herself into the kiss, pushing for dominance, stuck in a loop of anger and excitement that was swallowing them both.

But dominance with Jack, she wasn’t going to have. In spite of all her thrashing and writhing, he managed to pin her down, rip the dress off her, and get naked himself. He rolled them over, putting her on top for about two seconds, before sitting up and forcing her legs around his waist.

“What do you think you’re doing? Don’t dare take me for granted.”

“I don’t. I’m taking you, period.”

Without preamble, he slid inside her, full of arrogance. The arrogance of a man sure of his lover’s welcome. A man who knew his woman trusted him and wanted him. And he was right because she did. It infuriated immensely, but she did. Her body trusted and wanted him, conceited bastard that he was.

“You don’t withhold sex from me because you’re pissed. You don’t go to sleep on the sofa. You don’t give me the cold shoulder.”

“So what the hell do I do, uh? What?” she spat in broken pants, looking straight into his eyes as he filled her and her core flexed trying to accommodate him.

“We hash it out, pet. Talk.”

Now he wanted to talk. Asshole. “You prefer your women silent.”

Tightening his embrace, he gripped her locks and forced her to hold his stare. “Talk,” he bit out, his huge cock pulsing inside her, the hair of his groin tickling her folds.

Her hands were trembling, even as her nails were sinking into his shoulders.

Her voice came out shaky, a thin thread of almost nothing. “I’ve been demanding answers from you for hours. You didn’t give them to me. I don’t want to talk now.”

It was a power game. Everything with Jack was a power game. He had the upper hand. He was holding her tight, his chest rubbing her nipples, his cock impaling her, and they were supposed to hash it out? When she couldn’t breathe, much less think?

“You truly are a Borg. Made of steel. Nothing affects you. I, on the other hand, can’t turn on and off my feelings. Compartmentalizing all.”

He opened the hand at the small of her back and pushed her even more flush against him, pressing her aching clit against the cold piercing. She didn’t want to respond, but she couldn’t stop the shiver running through her, her womb contracting, her * clasping around him. He stood still, looking grim, his teeth locked. All his muscles bulging.