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His cock grew thicker, his skin stretching impossibly tighter, as he quickened his fist and pawed himself with unrelenting strokes. A familiar tingle edged down his spine.
“Fuck, yes.”
Hammer slammed his fist down to his hilt, aching to feel Raine shatter. When she came, her snug cunt clamped down as if she sought to force him out. But he always shoved his way back in, taking her again, driving through her spasming flesh until she clawed him and screamed.
He stroked harder. His balls drew up tight. His pulse thundered in his ears.
With a yell, he erupted into his hand, his seed spilling, his body humming.
As he lay staring at the ceiling, panting and sweating, he dimmed his phone.
This shit would be so much better if Raine were really with him. In cuffs. Begging. And Liam loomed behind her, squeezing into her tight ass while Hammer stuffed her cunt full and—
“Fuck.” He rolled off the bed and kicked his pants away. If he didn’t stop thinking about Raine and sex in the same sentence, he wouldn’t make it out of his office for the rest of the night. He should know. He’d been jacking off in here for weeks.
Each night, he went home so fucking desperate to claim her. To make her strip. To tie her to their bed. To crawl inside her head and, together with Liam, command her body.
But two months ago, Hammer had found her car door gaping open in his empty parking lot at four thirty a.m., the contents of her purse on the ground, and Raine nowhere in sight. He’d been shaken to the soul. He and Liam had searched frantically to stop her attacker before the bastard raped and murdered the only woman who completed them. Miraculously, they’d found her in a dingy warehouse nearby. She’d been clutching a slick knife in her delicate fist, naked and freezing, rocking despondently in a pool of blood near the father she’d been forced to kill.
She hadn’t been the same since. None of them had. So when he forced himself to go home in the wee hours of the morning and saw Raine sleeping, guilt and contrition inevitably strangled him. His cock battled his conscience.
His needs almost always lost.
Why should Raine have to fulfill his sexual demands when he hadn’t even provided her the basic safety she deserved?
Shoving his question aside, Hammer rose from the bed and made his way to the shower. He scrubbed his body as if he could wash away his failures. It went against his grain to sulk like a bloody weeping vagina, as Liam would say.
That manipulative son of a bitch. He’d sent the video of Raine to torture him.
It had fucking worked.
With a heavy sigh, Hammer shut off the water and snatched a towel off the nearby hook. Wrapping it around his waist, he stepped from the shower stall.
“Did you give yourself the best thirty seconds of your life again?” Beck leaned against his bathroom wall with a smirk.
“Don’t tell me your sad personal stories, man.”
“You’re not funny. Didn’t your momma ever warn you that if you keep pulling on your peter, you’ll go blind?”
“Is that why you wear glasses when you work?” Hammer drawled and stepped toward the fogged mirror. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Beck held up his phone. Not even three days of dark stubble could disguise the sneer on his face. “Why is your BFF texting me to ask if everything’s all right?”
“No idea.”
“Want to tell me why you’re biting off everyone’s heads?”
Fuck. Beck was here to be “helpful.” The last thing Hammer wanted to do was talk. It wouldn’t change a damn thing. “Because people like you won’t leave me alone.”
“Oh, you’re hurting my little feewings.” Beck chuckled. “Seriously, all this pouting is going to ruin your big, bad Dom reputation.”
“But you think a sadist acting like a nagging wife will improve yours?”
“I haven’t even started nagging at your sorry ass.” Beck reached behind him and shoved a bottle of tequila at Hammer. “Drink up. I’ll drive you home later.”
“What is this for? You think I’ll be your cheap, easy lay for the night? Pass.”
“Your witty one-liners are sounding a lot like someone avoiding his problems. I’ve been telling you for weeks to vent whatever’s bothering you, but—surprise, surprise—you’re not listening. Since the only time you ever purge your shit is when you’re drunker than fuck, I bought a bottle of your favorite. Go for it.”
“Blow me.”
“No, thanks. You’re not my type.”
Hammer glared. “I don’t have a goddamn thing to purge.”
“Really? Then why have you become the poster child for self-induced happy endings?” Beck scoffed. “Raine is smarter than you. She knew she needed a therapist to process everything that’s happened. But you, dumb fuck? Still refusing to talk to anyone. Do you really think you can fix yourself? Or are you just afraid they’ll shrink the wrong head? I promise, when they’re done, you’ll still have your little toy to play with.”
