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I was so caught up in him, I almost didn’t see the way he noted every sigh, moan, and whimper, committing them to memory.
“Malik,” I moaned, feeling my legs begin to tremble.
“You’re gonna come,” he noted with no noticeable change in his inflection aside from a slight rasp.
He locked my thighs around his waist, grabbed my throat, and lifted me from the floor with his cock still buried inside me as if it could rip me in half.
He turned and dropped me onto Butcher’s bed, keeping his hand where it was, forcing me to remain still and take everything he gave, fucking me with fresh vigor.
The new position put him in direct contact with my G-spot. His cock stroked it three times and then my muscles went taut and blackness infringed on my vision as I writhed beneath him, pussy clenching his cock, pure bliss washing over me.
“Damn,” he groaned, forcing himself even deeper inside me. He kept going, showing no signs of stopping.
His last clear sentence h was whispered in my ear as I came, clinging to his sweaty body. “One day, you’re going to be mine.”
As the night wore on, he grew more intense, a tad more vicious. The grip on my throat tightened every time my wanton moans pitched too high in volume. Had I been fully sober, I’d have realized he was holding back, giving me a mere fraction of himself. I would have realized his exclamation was more than words spoken in a heated moment; they were a dark promise of what was to come.
We made a mess of the sheets and each other with no regard for anything or anyone.
That was the first time I fucked a man I should have hated in my ex’s bed, an illicit act I could blame on the liquor coursing through my veins.
The second time, I was sober.
Chapter Two
Duo
3 Weeks Later
We were at another dive-bar in another shit hole reminiscent of a town.
This had gotten old about four stops back. We’d become dogs chasing our tales, running in circles and getting absolutely nowhere on our list of missing persons.
I took another sip of beer that tasted like warm piss, damn near having to force it down my throat.
These people should have been ashamed of themselves for serving such bullshit. Not that I expected grade A alcohol in a place like this, but I would have liked to have had some type of buzz.
I knew these hillbilly fucks didn’t have the means to make quality spirits; that was obvious by the poor condition of their ‘establishment.’
Ignoring the blonde and her cherry headed friend standing on my right, I took my fifth perusal of the room. The paneled walls were eroding, peeking from beneath worn posters of naked women. In some places, the wooden floor was sunken. In others, random rugs had been laid down to hide missing planks.
I had no judgment in terms of poverty.
I came from the slums of hell myself, and I knew how hard it was to find your way out.
It was the pretending to be what they weren’t that rubbed me wrong, which was pretty fucking hypocritical considering how great an actor I’d become lately.
Zane was still speaking to the man posing as a bartender, his arm slung over his girl’s shoulder. If the two of them got any closer, they’d be molded together as one. He always found a way to touch Addy.
Up until a few days ago, I thought he wasn’t aware of this little habit, but he’d since then admitted he needed to do it. He never elaborated as to why, and I never needed to ask.
There wasn’t much about Zane that I didn’t understand.
Greer was on the other side of them, wisely keeping a safe distance between himself and the Savage princess, since Z was as territorial as a guard dog on speed.
My attention was slowly but surely pulled towards the far side of the bar. In the second to last chair was Trix, a glass like mine in her hand. Beside her was the source of a fascination that bordered on obsessive.
Her downcast gaze and dark chocolate tresses hid her face from view, but I’d studied her so much the past few weeks that her every feature was etched into my brain.
