Page 26 of Jack Rabbit (Dark Trails #1)

26

JACK

S omething’s wrong.

At first, I thought his proposal wasn’t so bad. In fact, it came dangerously close to making sense. I’d show him how I like to play, and when he tapped out, he’d know for damn sure that he would have been in over his head with me.

As we get into it, he moans and wails and sobs for me, making those beautifully raw sounds of pain that inflame my sadistic desires. But he doesn’t safeword like I expect.

I don’t really like to make assumptions about people’s experiences with impact play, but I thought Bunny was pretty inexperienced. Maybe I was wrong? He’s taking it like a seasoned practitioner, but as I escalate the pace and the force, I’m baffled trying to read his energy. I engage with him, taunting him and demanding that he answer so I can make sure he’s still lucid and able to safeword. And every time, he responds appropriately.

I pick up the whip, kicking the inside of his ankles to spread his legs before lighting up his ass, one strike on each side. He screams and I think his legs are going to give out on him as he writhes. Watching his body language with practiced eyes, I judge that I’ve definitely hit his limit.

“I warned you, Bunny. I told you I was going to break you,” I say. I’m so sure he’s going to safeword that I move to reach for the clip to unhook his restraints.

He jerks aside, his balance wobbly enough that I start to worry. When I go to steady him, I’m surprised when he focuses on me again with a look of determination.

I tap a finger against my lips. “You sure you still want it?”

“Please, please —” he starts, but then his words start slurring together and he suddenly starts pouring sweat. His breathing changes. Fuck. I’ve got to get him out of the restraints immediately.

He tries to protest as I lower his arms and remove the cuffs on his wrists, but his eyes are unfocused and the hand he reaches out to swipe away my words is uncoordinated. He’s insisting that he’s fine, but this isn’t right. He’s in no physical shape to continue and, if I’m being honest, I don’t think either one of us is in the emotional headspace to continue.

“Why didn’t you safeword?” I ask. He puts his head down and starts crying hard. Watching and listening to him, I realize this isn’t just the release of physical pain, and it’s not the raw, cathartic tears I sometimes see in subs after an intense session. The sobs pouring out of him now are coming from somewhere else.

When I ask him again why he didn’t safeword, he pulls in a long, shaky breath. “You said you didn’t want to do this anymore. I didn’t know if I’d be able to talk you into it.”

His breath stutters like he might start crying again. “I can’t help it. I should’ve known better. I guess I’m just a dumb bunny like you always say because I wound up falling for you. I knew tonight would probably be the last time I’d ever have with you. I didn’t want it to end. Even if it was just you hurting me.”

My mouth and stomach both drop. Oh no, oh God, oh fuck… what did I do?

I stroke his cheek with my fingers and a tremor runs through him as he murmurs, “Oh God, please don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I want to say a million things — most of them starting with I’m sorry for being a raging asshole — but Bunny guts me when he mumbles out his answer.

“Don’t start being nice to me now. I don’t want to know that you always had a soft side and just never let me see it. If I leave here just thinking you’re a dick through and through, that’s one thing. I’ll get over you. But knowing you could have been kind and just never were —” I see his swallow bob in his throat, “that’s gonna make it a lot harder.”

I realize with a stomach-churning rush of guilt and shame that he pushed himself past his breaking point because he wanted whatever I was willing to give him, even if that was only pain. I spent so long trying to push him away because I didn’t think there was any way he would want anything to do with me once he knew the real me. Even though everything I threw at him to try and scare him off he soaked up like a sponge and came back for more, I stupidly refused to see him as anything other than a dumb bunny.

I let my fear and my excuses blind me from seeing what’s really in front of me — what’s been in front of me all along: a funny, sensitive daydreamer with a good heart who’s way tougher than he looks, tough enough to push himself beyond the limits of his endurance because he thought that was all he’d ever get from me.

He’s shaking now, coming down from the adrenaline that was sustaining him. I bring my face close to his, trying to get a look at his pupils.

“Don’t worry. I’ll always put you back together after I break you.” I run my fingers lightly down his cheek. “If I didn’t, how could I break you again the next time? I just want to keep shattering you into pieces, over and over and over.”

I have a debate with myself. It lasts about two seconds. I lean in to close the short distance between us and kiss his forehead. “But I’ll put you back together each time, Bunny. I promise.”

I know he doesn’t have any way of knowing this — hell, for all I know, he might not really be hearing me — but I want to try and keep that promise. If he’ll let me.

I get him calmed down and get some fluids and ibuprofen into him. He lays down on the sofa while I rub aloe onto his worked-over back and ass. After he falls asleep mumbling about how good it feels, I carry him upstairs.

I get him tucked into one side of my bed. It’s big enough that we both fit easily. I want him here because I want to be able to keep an eye on him in case he’s not OK for some reason.

No, scratch that. I want him here because I want him here. After I get into the other side of the bed, I brush his bangs back from his face. He looks so peaceful that I want to give him a goodnight kiss on the forehead, but I decide to wait until he’s awake. Just in case he changes his mind.

I wake up before my alarm goes off the next morning. I’m still drowsy, scrolling through the notifications on my phone, when he wakes up. A little squeak of alarm flies from his lips as he jerks upright and pushes himself up into a sitting position, eyes wide.

“Hey.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re OK. You just crashed pretty hard last night. How are you feeling?”

Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, he looks around before flopping back down onto the pillow. He turns halfway to look over at me, his hair sticking out in every direction.

“I’m having the weirdest fucking dream,” he murmurs. A sleepy smile steals across his features. “I’m just gonna lay here and pretend it’s real.” He keeps his eyes on me as he hugs the pillow and snuggles back down under the blankets.

I give him a rueful smile. “You’re awake, Bunny. I’m sorry, I just — you were kind of in a bad spot last night. I felt better with you being here instead of on the sofa.”

“Can you prove it?”

“Prove what?”

“Prove I’m not dreaming.” He giggles a little. “Because in my dream, I’m here in your bed and you’re here. And you’re being nice to me,” he says with a sigh as his smile fades.

That stings, but he’s not wrong. “Tell you what. I’ll prove to you that you’re awake. What’s something that would never happen in your dream?”

He chews on his lip for a minute before he answers. “You kissing me,” he says. “ Really kissing me.”

I roll towards him and pull him against me. He keeps his eyes open, an uncertain look on his face as I bring my mouth down onto his. When I lightly trace my tongue along the seam of his lips, his eyes widen before he slides them shut. With a murmur of contentment, he opens his mouth for my tongue. His lips are soft and yielding, his taste bright and clean, like water from an ice-cold spring or sheets fresh off the clothesline.

He’s shy with his tongue at first before I shift my hands to his hips. When I anchor him to my body, he opens up, exploring my mouth with that same eager hunger that comes through in his eyes, his voice and his body when we fuck around.

There’s an urgency in the way his tongue seeks out mine, a hunger to devour and be devoured. When he flicks the tip of his tongue across the sensitive inner border of my lip, it tingles like something effervescent. That’s what all of him is: effervescence and dappled sunshine and the murmur of leaves overhead.

The idea that I’m kissing him for the first time seems strange, not so much because it’s coming after a series of rough, kinky hookups, but because my brain is asking how this could possibly be our first kiss when everything about it feels as perfect and natural as if we’ve been waking each other up with kisses like this since the beginning of time.

“Whoa,” he breathes after our lips part. He looks a little perplexed, and I worry. Maybe that wasn’t what he expected or likes. I realize that, even though we’ve had a lot of extremely intimate contact, there’s a lot I still don’t know about him.

“Everything OK, Bunny?” I catch myself. “Sorry, I mean Adair. Or Addy, I guess.”

He gives me a shy smile. “I don’t think I mind you calling me Bunny, actually. In fact, I think I kind of like it. I mean, as long as you only put dumb in front of it when we’re fooling around. Oh, wait…” He trails off and frowns.

“What?” I ask.

“You being nice to me and all. I still don’t get it, but I’ll take it. Except, does this mean that we’re not — that you don’t —” He darts his gaze away as his cheeks flush. “You’re not going to stop being a bossy asshole when we fuck, right?”

With a growl, I roll my body over him to pin him under my weight as I wrap my hand around his neck. “Bossy asshole?”

His eyes fly wide. “I, um — sorry. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but that’s what I’ve been calling you in my head since the beginning.”

For some reason, this strikes me as funny. It’s not exactly a pet name, but it fits. I huff out a laugh. “Well, I guess you might as well stick with it, because that’s not changing.”

I tighten my grip on his throat. “I swear to God, if you ever ask again —if you even think — I’m going to stop spanking you, degrading you and dominating you, you’re not going to be able to sit down for a week.”

I feel his swallow bump up against my hand. “Good,” he whispers.

Something inside of me thaws ever so slightly. I let go of his neck to roll off him into a sitting position, pulling him onto my chest as I do.

A little tentatively, I kiss the top of his head. “I’m sorry for being a jackass,” I say into his hair. “And I’m sorry it took you breaking down last night for me to admit that I do care about you.”

To my surprise, he snickers. “I guess you can’t really have jackass without Jack in there, huh?” He wiggles himself upright so he can fling his arms around my neck. “I forgive you,” he says.

There’s a weird, prickly feeling in my throat. I swallow it down. “Watch the jokes at my expense, Bunny,” I warn. “But I’ll give you that one.”