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He knows the drill; when I’m wet enough to his liking, he withdraws and lines his dick up with my entrance, gliding it through my arousal. My juices coat his tip, and my core clenches wantonly. I watch as it presses in, caught up for a brief moment, parting me—but then he’s freezing, fear lacing the frown on his face.
“I don’t have a condom on,” he breathes, and I can almost hear the strain in his voice. Can feel the sweat as individual beads pop up on his forehead.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I shift, trying to pull him closer. I’m not thinking straight—buzzed or high on the prospect of sex, I can’t tell. “It’s okay.”
A shocked wave of air smacks me in the face, and he shakes his head, pulling away and setting me on the ground. “I’m not gonna put your safety at risk, Juliet.” Stuffing his hand in his pocket, he pulls out a foil packet, giving himself a few pumps before tearing it open with his teeth and rolling the condom down over his dick.
As I stand there, cold seeping into my flesh, dress still hiked up, my desire begins to fade. But I’m already deep in this; what would the point of backing out now be?
If I don’t do this, I look like a tease, even though Jace Allen isn’t who I want to fuck tonight.
The reality ofthatinternal confession, that I’m honestly offended that a psychopath didn’t contact me this week for sexual favors, is too much to bear, so as Jace steps back in and drops his hands to my hips, I turn and face the wall.
Unwilling to share the shame overtaking me.
His grip is soft, ghostlike, and he pushes in gently, afraid of breaking me. Unaware that I’m beyond repair, as is. That something broken can only be shattered so many times before it barely exists anymore, dust incapable of further damage.
My forehead falls to the brick wall as he presses in and out of me, boredom edging out any remaining sexual ache; he comes on a soft moan, sliding out of me without even noticing that I didn’t finish. Brushing a hand over my shoulder, he kisses the bare skin there. “You okay?”
“Peachy.” Forehead still flush with the wall, I reach down and adjust my dress, disappointment rattling my body.
Disappointment with him, myself, my life. The world in general.
“That was great,” he says, and I hear the zip of his jeans as he tucks himself back inside. “Want to come back in, play a round of pool or grab some pretzel bites?”
Smothering the hysterical laugh bubbling up inside my throat, I shake my head, pulling off the building and turning to look at him. “No thanks. I’m gonna call my sister and ask her to come pick me up.”
He hesitates, confusion knitting his brows. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, Jace. You were exactly what I was expecting.” He starts to open his mouth in response, but I offer him a smile and pat his chest. “Don’t read too much into that. Go, go back inside and hang out with your friends. I’ll be alright.”
“I’m not sure I should leave you in this alley by yourself.”
“Christ, Jace, it’sStonemoreand I’m practically a Montalto. What’s the worst that can happen? Besides, Caroline will be here soon.”
Pressing his lips together, he finally relents, slipping inside without further complaint. I sag against the wall, a ball of misery wedging itself deep in my throat, and try to focus on the night sky.
The stars are more plentiful out here, but I know it’s not because this town is any less corrupt than mine. Maybe just slightly more removed from the evil lying in wait in King’s Trace.
A tremor fights through me, threatening to remove the sutures barely holding my battered heart together. I choke on a sob, unable to ward off the unmistakable wave and unsure of the cause, an eerie feeling settling over me, amplifying my emotions.
I cast a glance down the alley as a few tears spill over, sure now in my convictions that I’m being watched.
And as a tall figure steps out from the shadows, I begin to regret asking Jace to leave me out here.
Before he even speaks a single word, I know exactly who the body belongs to, like we’re two finely-tuned magnets, connected at an axis. Like our souls speak to one another on another level.
I just don’t know yet what he wants with mine.
Chapter 6
Kieran
She doesn’t know I’m watching her. Doesn’t know how seeing this stranger’s hands on her flesh lights my skin on fire, pumps venomous rage through my veins. Control sweeps through me, keeping me from stalking over to where he holds her against the bar wall and tearing her from his arms.
But I’m barely hanging on to my sanity; as their mouths connect and he lifts her into his arms, I feel it slipping away, possessiveness clawing its way up my spine. An unwelcome tsunami of red-hot jealousy I have no business allowing, but can’t seem to extinguish.
He has his hands on something precious and fragile, something that doesn’t belong to him; greedy little shit that I am, I can’t stop myself from wanting to peel him off her, snap his veiny neck, and fuck her on top of his corpse. To thrust into her from behind while she holds herself up and away from his lifeless body, trying not to mix fear and ultimate pleasure.
