Page 32 of Painkiller (Sin Records #3)

I don’t know how we got here. This moment in this room. His hands play my body like a savant, building my desire with skilled precision. My mind is a mess, and my body aches.

But I knew it would happen. Even if I denied and fought against it with everything in me.

The attraction was instant from the moment in the restaurant. All our encounters since have only increased the hunger. Even our most casual conversations have been hazy with sexual tension so thick it suffocates.

Ignoring it should’ve been easy, except our paths keep crossing.

Every interaction has led to this with innuendos and heated looks. Even as I tried to reason with myself—remind myself that it would cause more conflict and complications in my life and remember there would be casualties—the attraction and desire have only grown.

“People will get hurt by us being together,” I mutter, still trying to fight the pull despite knowing it’s pointless.

“We’re consenting adults. If we want to fuck, it’s our business.

” His lips brush my neck with open-mouth kisses.

“If we want more than that…” Is he talking about feelings?

My heart ricochets against my ribs. I thought he just wanted sex.

Anything beyond that is too much right now.

But when his teeth graze my skin, I forget what I’m thinking.

“If they care about us, they will get over it.”

“Phoebe won’t get over it. It will be one more thing that makes her hate me.”

“Then it sounds like it doesn’t matter either way.”

“W-we…” I shake my head, trying to force myself to remember sex isn’t worth risking what little I have with my sister or my friendship with Casey, when he takes my nipple between calloused fingers and pinches lightly. Arousal runs down my seam, and another soft moan spills from my lips.

But my body is starving for this.

“We what, Halfpint?” He slides inside me again, pumping his finger with slow, rhythmic precision. Enough to drive me crazy but not provide relief.

“We will…Oh, God.” My eyes roll when he strokes the deepest part of me with a hooked finger. “We…” Whatever I’m trying to say melts along with all sense as he waves his expert fingers again and again.

“Stop arguing, baby. I’ve already won, and you know it. Tell me what I want to hear, so you can feel so fucking good.”

“Yes.” I breathe, on the verge of begging. Somehow, I manage to keep just enough sense to add, “The weekend,” because that should be enough time to get this out of my system.

The second the agreement is uttered, his thumb presses my clit, he tweaks my nipple, and his teeth sink into my flesh. It’s a sensory overload, and I explode so violently that my entire body quakes with uncontrollable spasms. My cum covers his hands and my thighs in my sticky satisfaction.

I’ve never felt anything like that in my life, and I slump against him, satiated and content.

“Don’t get too comfortable, sweetheart. I’m nowhere near done with you.

” His fingers weave through my hair, gripping the thick strands with gentleness and pulling my head back.

I shudder under the weight of his deep promises of decadent destruction as lush kisses descend, devouring my mouth, and lulling me into a false sense of contentment when my entire body jerks against him.

My hands grip his in a weak attempt to stop his casual flicks of the jewel between my legs, earning me a devious chuckle.

Punishing nips at my throat as he makes his way to my ear. “Now, get up.”

My lashes sweep against my cheekbones in a confused haze. “What?”

Fingers dig into my hips as he lifts me from his lap, standing with me.

My chin is lifted until I meet his darkened lust. “We’re three songs down, Halfpint.

I have time to kill before I take you home.

” He spins me around, and for the first time, I take in the room.

The bed with bindings on one side of the room.

A tantric chair is positioned in front of a full-length mirror.

From the ceiling, chains dangle with a tantalizing warning.

He brushes the hair away from my shoulder, then dips down to lick my shoulder.

“Over there.” He turns me toward the chair, giving me a small shove.

Butterflies take flight in my stomach as I move toward the chair. The sound of a buckle clinking, followed by the whoosh of denim, makes the butterflies nosedive.

I walk around the chair, examining the sensual curves, trying not to let the fact it had other naked bodies on it bother me. It’s thoroughly cleaned after every use. I just have to remember that. My fingers trail over the leather as I notice the rings that cover both sides.

Lifting a leg, I begin to get on the chair when his voice stops me.

“Nuh-uh.” He stands in front of me stripped down to his boxer briefs.

My brain misfires as I stare at him. The ink.

The muscles. Everything ripples with restraint.

My eyes drift lower, watching his cock twitch behind the tight cloth covering him, the tip extending beyond the band, reflecting a glint of silver.

He might’ve been surprised by mine, but his is anything but.

He extends his hand toward me, and I take it, unable to form a complete thought.

He leads me around the bench to the large end, facing me toward it.

“This end. Lean forward.” His hands press between my shoulder blades, guiding me over the top.

Goosebumps burst free over my skin when he hooks his fingers into the elastic of my panties, making my heart hammer in my chest.

So many conflicting emotions race through me as he slowly drags the material over my hips and down my legs.

Doubt mixes with desire. Nerves mingle with need.

And the raw attraction, the chemistry between us, is powerful.

Ignoring it has been difficult, so I agreed, believing no one has to know.

That we would get it out of our systems, and then we could just be friends.

Or even pretend the other doesn’t exist.

But what if that doesn’t happen? What if all of this makes it worse?

I take a breath, ready to call it off, and leave him with an apology—and a raging case of blue balls—when his teeth sink into my ass.

My body jerks, but it doesn’t go anywhere.

I turn my head and see my hands are bound to the side of the chair, and I’m suddenly aware of my ankles and waist having bindings around them as well.

“What is this?” I ask, tugging at the strap around my wrist, though it doesn’t move more than half an inch.

“That’s to hold you still.”

“Jagger.” A demand burns my tongue, then turns to ash when vibrations hit my clit. “Oh God.”

Another orgasm builds in seconds, and my cries erupt, drowning out the heavy beat of the music.

But he doesn’t let up, keeping the vibrator pressed against my clit as his tongue joins the mix.

He dives deep inside my quivering pussy, stroking and thrusting against my walls as another climax builds.

It burns through me like a raging fire as I jerk against the bindings, desperate to get away.

He’s relentless, using the vibrator, his mouth, and his fingers over and over until my breathing is ragged and my body feels like it’s been consumed by flames. The pleasure is so intense it’s morphed into pain, and it streams down my face in rivulets.

But even as my head thrashes back and forth and the sobbing pleas echo in the room, I don’t know what I’m asking for.

“Oh, God!” Another powerful orgasm rips through me, contracting every muscle in my body to the point of beautiful agony.

Jagger’s large body leans over mine, brushing the sweat-soaked strands from my face. “God’s not coming to save you, baby.” He lifts my limp head and meets my eyes. “Fuck, you’re beautiful like this.”

“Jagger.” I whimper, unable to say more than a few syllables at once. My body and brain absolutely destroyed by the way he’s consumed me.

“I know, sweetheart. Too much of a good thing still feels achingly good, doesn’t it?” Another soft sob is the only response I have. “You’ve done so well. So fucking good. Now, tell me, are you on the pill or something?”

“An implant,” I murmur as my mind searches for why it matters. A moment of panic unleashes itself. I’m not sure I trust him enough to do without a condom, but “No,” is all my feeble mind can muster.

“Don’t worry, Halfpint. I’m wrapping it up.

My question was just to decide if I fuck your pussy or your ass tonight.

” He bends over, releasing the straps around my wrists and ankles.

With a quick flick, he’s undone the one at my waist and has me flipped, my back folding over the bench.

Crackling foil echoes in the air, making my breathing stutter.

This is happening, and I’m not even trying to stop it.

His hand trails over my stomach to my breast, squeezing it, then moving to the other. “I’ll have that ass before the weekend is done, but I really want this sweet pussy right now,” he says as he presses inside me and the only thought I can formulate is yes.

To everything.

My eyes roll back, feeling every piece of metal decorating his cock brushing against my walls as he stretches me. His name tumbles from my lips. The only warning I get is the deep growl before he pulls out to the tip and drives in all the way.

He’s not easy or gentle and doesn’t give me time to adjust to his thick girth. He powers into me over and over like an animal, hitting my cervix as he destroys my pussy with feral need, making me scream out in pained ecstasy as incoherent pleas, begging him to stop and demanding more, fill the air.

He drags me further to the edge, hooking my legs over his arms as he folds me over the chair. Deeper and harder, he buries himself inside of me, as if he’s trying to rearrange everything to be just for him.

Then I remember his words, the declaration he made earlier, and I realize he’s done exactly as he promised.

This fucker just ruined me for everyone else.

And just when I thought I was done coming…

My vision blurs and dances as I lose my breath.

I can’t see anything. The only sound I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears.

The most powerful orgasm tonight…in my life ricochets through me as my mouth opens.

I don’t know if I scream or not, but my throat feels like it’s bleeding as I shatter around him.

“Fuck,” he roars as his hips lose their rhythm. “Fuck. Fuck. Godda…Fuck.”

His body remains standing—and holding mine—by some miracle, but his chest heaves in unison with mine.

Damp hair brushes my sweaty skin when his head drops to my shoulder.

“Goddamn, Halfpint.” His voice is breathless and shaky as he lowers me to my wobbly legs.

Kisses dot my shoulders before a tongue swipes across my soaked flesh.

His green eyes swirl with questions, narrowing as he tilts his head.

I think he’s about to run away when he threads his fingers through my hair and drops his mouth to mine.

My flavor brushes the seam of my lips, requesting entry.

When I open for him, his tongue sweeps into my mouth, attacking as if it’s the first time.

Arousal presses against my stomach, and I gasp.

Looking down, finally getting a glimpse of his impressive package, I shake my head. “What the hell is that?”

He chuckles, planting his lips on my temple. “That’s all you, Halfpint.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but you kind of broke me, my guy. If I come one more time, I might actually die. Not to mention, you used that thing like a weapon. I’m going to need at least a week to recover.”

He laughs, booping my nose, walks across the room, grabs his pants, and pulls them on.

Then he picks up his T-shirt. “I’ll give you until we get back to my apartment.

” He tugs the fabric over my head, then turns for his zip-up hoodie and jacket before he grabs my fallen mask from the floor and helps me get it back on.

“The minute we walk through that door, round two begins.”

“Round two? Are you crazy?”

“Told you already.” He slips on his boots, then extends his hand to me.

I take it and let him guide me toward the door. “You destroyed me. I’m closed for business.”

He opens the door, grinning. “We’ll see.”

“No, there will be no seeing,” I inform him. “I am—” I turn around and gulp loudly when I see a man standing against the wall with his arms folded across his chest and his eyes blazing, and I swallow the knot in my throat as I say, “Done. ”