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There were clouds obscuring the night sky tonight, blotting out all but the most tenacious stars. He thought he smelled rain on the air, couldn’t care less. It would only make him feel better if the world suffered in misery along with him.
Taking a long swallow of premium vodka straight from the bottle, he kicked at small rocks on the ground as he headed for his SUV. Tucked into the shadows, away from the security lights, the black Lincoln Navigator was his pride and joy.
Tonight, it would be his bed.
How the hell had he let this happen? It was supposed to go smoothly. Dissipate the weird relationship between him and Anarchy, let her go as painlessly as possible, and continue on his mission as a big, scary sadist with limited attachments. There was no one he couldn’t—wouldn’t—walk away from if he needed to.
If the familiar feeling in his gut was any indication, he needed to now.
God-fucking-damn it. All the submissives he’d played with over the years had never accomplished what that subservient little blonde had. She’d quietly wormed her way inside him, gripped his heart in her delicate hands, and rendered him useless.
With a grunt, he stepped onto the SUV’s front bumper and boosted himself onto the hood. The metal pinged under his weight as he settled his back against the windshield and planted his feet on the paintwork he liked to polish every weekend. Wouldn’t want to slide off in a drunken heap in a few hours, would he?
He couldn’t get the fucking cry out of his head. It bounced around, taunting his body with the reminder it could have been his cock eliciting that beautiful sound from her lips. It could have been his hands running over that pristine body, those delicious curves. His hands making her sing in pleasure and pain.
Instead she was in there, tied down beneath a man he considered a brother, begging him to fuck her.
Jasper wondered if she’d even realized he’d been standing just a few feet away from her when she said the words. If she’d even heard his voice.
Hell, he couldn’t blame her.
Jasper stared up at the sky and drank deeply from the bottle, letting the alcohol flood his belly. Maybe it would drown the sick despair rotting his insides away. Even better, he hoped it would blot out the memories twisting his cock into a miserable knot.
Was it overdramatic to throw his head back and howl like a wolf in mourning? Probably, but that’s what he wanted to do. Anger and sorrow were ripping into him with frustrated claws, slicing him open at every point they could reach.
There was no choice, he had to get away from here. He needed to get himself back to a place where his temper and his ingrained behaviors were kept under control instead of balancing on the edge of ruining his life. If that meant walking away from everything he'd built over the last twelve years, then so be it. Being selfish and staying here, wedging himself into Anarchy's life, causing her pain, wasn't the answer.
He sucked down more alcohol, listening as several patrons exited the club. There was some giggling, a low male laugh, and for a horrible moment, Jasper thought Atticus and Anarchy were leaving together. A pair of hard hands gripped his heart and twisted it savagely until the pain became so acute in his chest, he believed it was real.
Wouldn't that be the kicker of his night? His friend and his maybe-something-special, driving away together while he drowned himself in top shelf vodka. Hell, the only way it would get worse was if...no, there was no worse.
“Christina, pet, you know Braun's rules about fornicating in the parking lot.”
The breath whooshed from Jasper's lungs, replaced with the sweetness of relief. He ignored the sultry laugh and persuasive cajoling of a sub topping from the bottom, and scrubbed a hand over his face. No need to throw himself off the nearest bridge just yet.
“Sir, please. Master Braun will never know, and it's such a nice night. If we're quick, no one will catch us, and if they did, what would they do?”
Poor, naïvelittle sub. Did she not know there were CCTV cameras posted around the house, the barns, the parking lot and driveway? Braun had bumped up security since Bodie's almost fatal altercation with her parents; although they were dead and buried, they'd had deep ties to mafia-esque gangs. There was no sense in taking chances with anyone's safety, and Braun had upgraded accordingly.
“Braun isn't stupid, pet. He has security cameras all over the property. Rules are rules and we must abide by them if you want to keep playing here.” A firm clap of flesh on material and a soft yelp made Jasper grin stupidly. “Now, keep pestering me and you'll be suspended in your cage tonight by the biggest anal hook I can find. One more word, pet, and I'll lube you up with ginger oil for good measure.”
God, Anarchy would look amazing with her tight little asshole stretched wide around the thick ball of an anal hook. Jasper could imagine it, could almost hear her whimpers as he tormented her, working the cool steel through the ring of muscle. Add in a drop or two of ginger oil or some peppermint, and she'd squirm frantically to escape the burn. Squirm all over his cock as he drove into her wet pussy, eliciting moaning cries as flesh and steel stretched her open.
Wouldn't she be fucking stunning, taking every inch of his cock with tears streaming from those innocent eyes, every thrust knocking his name from her lips on exhales of exertion.
And that, that right there, was why he couldn't be with her. He derived too much pleasure from pain and discomfort; hell, laid on the hood of his truck with only the fantasy of her pain in his head, he was hard as a fucking rock and raring to turn that vision into reality.
His kitten might think she was strong, but she couldn't defend herself against the likes of him.
A car alarm blipped noisily as the system disengaged and a car door opened, closed. Seconds later, he heard the same again before the purr of an engine broke the quiet night. When it drove away, Jasper tipped the bottle back and drank until his eyes watered.
Money wasn't an issue if he took off. Working for himself as a landscaper, plus the smart investments he'd made after he turned twenty-five and left his reckless self behind, gave him a significant cushion to survive on. The investments reaped enough for him to live on comfortably. He owned his own house, his bills were paid automatically, and he owned neither pets nor houseplants.
Nothing living depended on him.
That was depressing in itself. The only tie he had to this world was himself, and that sounded lonely to his own ears. His friends would carry on without him in their lives, would probably forget about him after a while. If he didn't call, didn't write, they'd be angry, but he'd fade away into memories soon enough.
The empty bottle thudded onto the hood, then rolled off to bounce on the grass in front of his truck. That was lucky; Braun would have a bitch fit if he found broken glass in his precious parking lot.
