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The problem wasn’t that he needed to get fucked, the problem was who he wanted to fuck.
That was what ate at him. What made him cranky.
The whole putting his dick inside Jet thing.
Just about every night he jerked off to the same memory over and over. It was on a continuous loop in his brain. He replayed everything he saw in that mirror.
He had used the mirror to distance himself from her. To separate himself from what they were doing. What they had done.
He tried to convince himself that watching it in the mirror was like watching porn instead. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t her. It was simply two strangers slapping skin together.
Only he had been the one behind Jet with his jeans only pulled down far enough to access his dick.
He had been the one to leave the marks on her tits and neck, a spot where he knew before he even did it, anyone would be able to see it. It gave him a sick sense of pleasure on how hard she’d have to work to hide it from others. And even better, every time she saw those bite marks, she’d be forced to think of him.
He also couldn’t erase the sight of the red handprints on her ass. Whenever he saw them in his mind, he instantly got rock hard.
Like now.
Billie probably thought his reaction was because of her.
He wanted to rush over to her little dumpy basement apartment to repeat his mistake and slam Jet against that mirror again.
He wanted to force her to her knees, wrapping the strands of long, black hair around his fist, and making sure her ass faced the mirror so he could see her shiny pink pussy while he throat-fucked her.
So he could watch her reach between her legs and get herself off with her own fingers. Fingers that would easily slip inside herself because she was so fucking wet. Then he wanted to watch her fuck her own ass with one of those slick fingers.
He wanted all of that and more. He wanted that until his ears rang with her begging him to stop because she couldn’t take anymore.
Or with her begging him to not stop.
A groan bubbled up Rook’s throat and he grabbed Billie’s wrist, preventing her from pulling out his dick. “Ain’t for you.”
Billie never took offense to being rejected, unlike some of the other sweet butts. She was thick-skinned, but then, she had to be to be into what she was. There was always someone wanting what she could dish out and also what she could take. She knew if one of the brothers didn’t want her one night, they’d be searching for her another night when they were in the mood to have pain mixed in with their pleasure.
But tonight he couldn’t look into Billie’s face and come. Not without seeing Jet’s.
The bitch ruined him.
Totally fucking destroyed him. He wanted no one but her.
That meant one thing.
He needed a different method to purge her from his thoughts. One he hadn’t tried yet. One he’d been desperately avoiding.
Once that was done, he could simply walk away satisfied and move on. Get back to his life no longer haunted by her.
Dodge surprised Rook by wandering out from the bunkhouse wearing only boxers and scratching his balls as he walked a little bow-legged. He did a chin lift in greeting to Rook, who returned it, trying not to smirk at the thin, long welt marks crisscrossing his tattooed chest.
“Was wonderin’ where you went,” the bar manager muttered to Billie.
Well, there was Rook’s answer. He didn’t realize his former cellmate was into that kind of shit. Maybe he hadn’t been scratching his nuts after all, maybe he’d been checking to make sure they were still attached.
“You ready for round two?” Billie asked him, tweaking one of his nipples that was swollen and red because it had been struck with whatever Billie used from her bag of torture devices she always had on hand. “I figured you had to recover.”
“Ready for round two,” Dodge answered with a smirk, rubbing at his injured nipple.
“Then, how about we head back to your apartment so I can take my time with you? You know Trip doesn’t want any of us here come morning. And what I plan on doing to you next, I don’t want to rush.”
Dodge shot Rook a look. “Two fuckin’ seconds, brother. That’s all it took to get me rock fuckin’ solid.” He grabbed his hard-on through his boxers and grinned. “I’ll get my fuckin’ clothes. Time to jet.”
Dodge headed back into the bunkhouse. That short trip gave Rook a good view of what the man’s back looked like, which was worse than his chest, and with a last, lingering squeeze to Rook’s thigh, Billie followed him, wearing a very pleased expression.
