Shattered Dreams (Boys of Bellerose, #3)(37)
This time his scoff had less bite. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Every part of me was determined to prove him wrong. “What are you really doing in here?” I asked, my hand falling from his chest. “What do you want?”
His hands were under my ass in the next beat as he hauled me up and pressed me back against the wall. “I need to fuck you,” he said, dropping his head into the crevice of my throat, lips pressing against my skin, followed by his teeth, nipping me hard. “I need this out of my system so I can play music.”
He thrust up, and even without foreplay I was wet enough that he slid inside me without too much pain. Our groans were lost in the water streaming over us, and when Jace lifted me so he could thrust up again, with more force this time, I whimpered and barely held onto my scream. He said he was fucking me out of his system, but for me, every time we were together like this, it just made it that much harder to separate myself from Jace.
From the feelings that would never go anywhere.
The love and hate were so close for us that sometimes it was the same.
Jace’s powerful hands held me motionless, so all I could do was dig my nails into his shoulders and hold on as he slammed into my pussy over and over, hard tiles against my back and an even harder man between my legs.
I tried not to come. I tried to resist with every part of my body, but it was an impossible task as the swirling intensity in my stomach unraveled. My screams were louder than I intended, and now everyone would know exactly where their missing lead singer was.
Since they were supposed to be practicing now.
“Mine,” Jace said roughly, releasing his hold on me so it was only the wall at my back and my legs around his waist that kept me from falling to the tiled floor. He placed both hands on the wall above my head, and his hips moved so fast, fucking me with enough force that I couldn’t even catch my breath between thrusts.
Soft, pleading words of encouragement fell from my lips, which only seemed to spur Jace on faster. “You will come for me again,” he demanded.
“So much for making me suffer,” I managed to say.
Jace shook his head. “I’ve figured that giving you this and then taking it away once more is how you suffer. Now fucking come.”
I obeyed near instantly, body bucking against his as those cries turned once more to screams. He let out a low groan of his own, and I swore to fuck he whispered my name as he finished inside me, thrusting in a few last brutal strokes.
Before the swirling pleasure in my body had remotely subsided, he was sliding free and lowering me to the ground. His touch was gentle as he left me sprawled on the shower floor, and when he turned and left without another word, I almost wished he’d just dropped me. That would have hurt less than him treating me like I was a casual fucking booty call.
I understood why Jace was trying to fuck me from his mind, purge me from his soul, and exorcise the demons of our past. I absolutely understood, and I wasn’t even mad about it.
Not when we had so much history to work through.
The true question of it, though, was would I survive his form of therapy?
At least with what was left of my heart and soul intact.
sixteen
GRAYSON
Leaving Billie’s bed while she slept so sweetly between Rhett and me was one of the hardest things I’d done in a long time. Harder, even, than I’d realized, as the hollow pit of regret deepened in my gut with every mile I put between us.
But it was the right thing to do. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—lie there with her and bask in her affection while suspicion and dread filled me from within.
She deserved better than that. Hell, she deserved better than me, but I was so completely enamored with little spiky Billie Bellerose that I found myself driving halfway across the country to try and clear my conscience. All to be with her.
On my way out I’d seen Angelo sitting in the kitchen looking like hell and told him quietly that I’d be gone a few days. He’d given me a questioning glance but kept those questions to himself. I never thought I’d get along with a spoiled mafia prince, but our days of torturing bastards together had forged a bond. We understood one another. So he just nodded and promised to keep Billie safe while I was gone.
We had security—bodyguards and the like. Of course we did. Jace and Rhett were total fucking morons when it came to threat assessment, and with how famous the band was, we’d be idiots to dismiss them entirely. Angelo was better, though. Knowing he had my girl’s back had given me the confidence to leave her that morning and reassured me now, almost twenty hours later, as I pulled into the parking lot of a seedy biker bar.
My phone buzzed with a new message from Angelo, and I opened it while ignoring the ones from Jace and Rhett.
Ricci: She’s asking where you are. What do you want me to say?
No need to explain which she he meant. It wouldn’t be Brenda or Vee. There was only one girl I’d fucked senseless all night while sharing her with one of my best friends. Hell, Rhett wasn’t just a friend, he was a brother. Shit, what did that make us now? Brother-boyfriends? Ugh, a few nights of mind-blowing sex and I was thinking like a chick.
I exhaled heavily, glancing at the bar through my windshield. There were a couple of patched MC guys standing out front, smoking and talking shit. This was the last place I’d thought I’d visit after I’d walked away from my uncle’s cartel all those years ago.