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He swallows hard, and I watch the knot move in his throat. A light stubble shadows his jaw, as if he didn’t shave this morning. His dark eyes are brilliant in the neon street lights, and his mouth…
Fuck, I can’t stop looking at it, imagining it on my dick, on my chest, on my throat. On my lips. I’m standing so close, I can hear him breathing hard, I can see the flush on his cheeks. I can smell him, and it makes my own mouth water.
“Goddammit,” he whispers, and glances from the balding guy back to me. “You mean it.”
It’s not a question, but I reply anyway. “Yeah.”
For some reason I can’t quite explain, I do. I’m not letting this ugly bastard, or anyone else, fuck Jason.
Sinners burn in hell. Aunt Martha’s words echo in my head, a soundtrack to all the filthy things my fantasy enacts with Jason. You will burn in hell.
Dammit. This is hell already.
His eyes are wide, darker than ever, so dark and deep they’re swallowing me, losing me in a maze unlike any other. “Fine, then. Where?”
“My place,” I say and reaching down, I take his hand and tug. “Come on.”
Jason m
utters something that might be a curse and follows me, his hand hot against my palm, his long fingers clasping mine in a strong grip.
I don’t even glance at the other guy as I lead Jason away to my truck. For tonight at least, he’s mine.
Chapter Ten
Jason
What the hell’s going on? Raine is taking me to his apartment, and it’s not because I’m beaten up or cold, not this time. Not because I owe him something, either, but because he wants…
He wants me.
No, I correct myself and barely refrain from hitting my head against the dashboard to sort my stupid thoughts. Not me. He wants a blowjob. He wants sex. He wants me to pleasure him.
Like every other guy.
He could have picked any hooker, that stupid, hopeful inner voice insists. And he picked me.
Jesus, no. You know how this works. He came to you because he knows you. It was easy. His brother probably told him where you hang out, and…
But my mind stops there. The thought of Raine asking his brother where to find me for paid sex is too much, even for me. Ocean seems so protective.
I lean my head on the window, the coolness soothing on my forehead. As if I really know Ocean. Ocean is protective of his brother, not me. Sure, he has been helping me out, and I’m so fucking grateful. But I’m not… not his. Not family.
My throat closes. What the fuck. I must be more tired than I realized if the thought hits me so hard. I knew this. I do know it. But Raine kinda makes me wish for things. Things I can’t fucking have, or even dream about.
Bastard.
I glare at him for good measure as he keeps driving, but look away when he glances at me.
He’s a paying customer, I remind myself, and it just goes to show how fucked-up I am if I have to keep reminding myself of this simple fact.
Cut the crap. Relax. Smile. Act nice.
Easier said than done. It’s like I’m a mass of boiling resentment and confusion and need, and since when can’t I keep it bottled inside? This endless drag with Simon, the stress and the beatings sure aren’t helping.
But when we stop at a traffic light, I can’t help but look at him again, and that delicious tingle down my spine starts again, enough to make me shift uncomfortably in my seat. He’s staring straight ahead, his profile serious, those full lips pressed together, the dark brows drawn in a frown, his jaw tight. I mean, yeah, he’s handsome. We’ve established that.
A handsome bastard.
