Page 63 of Jazz
“And she rescued me, Jazz.” I stared at him, watching the darkness settle in his eyes. Then, he reached towards me, his fingers circling my bicep, firm, gentle, commanding. All at once, pulling me towards him. “Sit.”
“No, I won’t fucking sit down.”
“Sit, or I’ll make you sit, Tiger,” his voice rumbled, louder in this room, trapped by all the padding, deeper than I’d ever heard it before.
I tipped my chin. “You fucking sit.”
Fingers released my arm, moving swiftly, too quickly for me to realise what he was doing, until the hand wrapped round my throat. He squeezed, his eyes on mine, angry, deep, dark, pulling me towards him by my throat. I should have kicked off. Kicked him in the balls. Swung for him. But for some reason, with the pressure on my neck, the look in his eyes like he might just eat my whole head, I did nothing. Deep inside me, the pulsing started. A rich warm ache, spreading outwards, dragging me into a dark hole, common sense disappearing. Chase pulledagain, so I had no choice but to stand up on to the tips of my toes, his hand squeezing harder, the ability to fight him gone, the pressure against my neck making me lose control of my senses. Nearly all my senses.
His lips crashed against me, rough and punishing, his tongue forcing into my mouth before I was ready, his other hand diving under the hoody I wore, hot rough fingers against my stomach, then wrapping round my back, no way to get away from him, even if there was a tiny spark in my brain telling me to run. His lips and tongue continued. Fierce. Fast. Hard. Fuck if that wasn’t killing me, the pulsing low in my stomach changing rhythm, a mad dance of pressure, and need, and ruin hammering inside me.
And then he let go. Of my neck, of my back, spinning me so fast the room wobbled, and I fell forward, the soft satin of the bed covers under my hands. Chase moved behind me, his hand wrapping my neck again, pulling me upright. I could see him in the mirror, his hand tightening, his face even tighter. Dark, frightening.
“I rescued you because I couldn’t let those fuckers hurt you. It ripped my guts out letting them do what they did to you.” His voice growled in my ear. “I’ve killed people, Jazz. That was my fucking job. Gina taught me how to when I was just a fucking kid, and the Rats wanted those skills too. But I couldn’t kill you. I couldn’t be a part of that anymore.”
“You could have walked away. Cut me loose. Pretended I’d got the upper hand.” I rasped, watching myself in the mirror. Watching Chase’s face get tighter and harder.
He moved behind me, a sudden kick at my legs, knocking one to the right, the other to the left, stepping into the gap he’d just made, pushing against me so that I could feel his cockstraining through jeans that threatened to submit me, the bulge pushing against my arse.
“You couldn’t overpower me, Tiger.” He squeezed those fingers around my neck again, reminding me of the position he now had me in.
His other hand slid round to the front of the jeans that were way too big for me, popping the button, dipping inside where the material sagged from around me. Fingers brushed over the top of my mound, sliding through my slit and the wetness that I knew he’d find there.
“You could have just walked away, Chase? Run. Left. Gone away. Started afresh. Then you wouldn’t have seen what they did to me. You just left. The Rats could have forgiven you for that.”
“And left you to the Hand? To what Grim would have done with you? I would have killed you rather than let him take you.”
I shuddered. And he felt it too, and he pushed his fingers inside of me, slowly dragging them out again. Twisting them, pushing them back in. Slowly. Way too fucking slowly. I could feel the tip of another now, teasing at my entrance. Fucking torture. That was what he was doing.
“No one was having you, Tiger,” his voice was hoarse against my ear, the rumble from his words vibrating against my back. “You were mine the minute I hung you on that fucking hook.”
Mine?
He rammed his fingers back inside, the third joining on that thrust, forcing me full of him. My hips bucked back against him, uncontrolled, a strangled cry ripping from me.
“Fucking scream, Jazz. The padding in this room is soundproofing. The fucking best room in the house. No one can hear what I do to you in here, Tiger. No one.”
He pumped hard and fast, my toes curling into the carpet, my own fingers gripping his arm, my eyes meeting mine in the mirror. The face didn’t look like me; the lips parted, a pitiful whine filling the room. I was fully clothed, a moving bulge in the front of the faded Levi’s where he fucked me with his fingers, his thumb circling my clit. And now I moved into him, grinding my pussy against his hand, pushing down on the fingers that filled me up, that crooked against my g-spot, that twisted and turned, screwing inside of me.
“Ah, fuck, Chase. Fuck.”
It was a breathy whisper at first, but the words kept tumbling out and now it was a gargle, his fingers squeezing my throat, the heat from my neck and chest joining the rising fucking fire between my legs and in my stomach like I might self-combust.
“I’m going to co….”
“No, you’re not. Not until I say you can.”
I tried to turn. To tell him to fuck off, that I’d have this orgasm if I fucking wanted it. But he’d already pulled his fingers from inside of me, his hand sliding out of my jeans.
“Now take these clothes off.”
His hand left my throat, and I watched him in the mirror stepping back from me and pulling the hooded jumper over his head. Muscles in his arms bulged, the shadow tapestry of tattoos taking on its own life, and his hand moved to his jeans. He pulledthe waist open, pushing them down his legs, his cock springing free, attentive, hard. And fucking impressive.
It stood proud, the tip slightly bigger, mushrooming over the shaft. And the shaft was angrier than he was, straining, veins visible even from this angle. The bead of pre-cum on the top glistened in the soft lighting, and he moved his hand up and down as he waited, his eyes on me now.
“Clothes. Fucking now,” he growled.
I pulled the hoodie off over my head, expecting a chill to assault my skin, but the temperature in the velvet cell was ambient.