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GUNN

“ W hat happened to never again?”

“Did I say that?” I push Scarlet back into her apartment and kick the door shut behind me.

“Just last night.”

“You must have misunderstood.” I pull my shirt over my head with one hand at the same time as I work the button on my jeans. “I meant, once more.”

She begins to strip, first her shirt and bra, then kicking off her pants and panties. “Yeah, I figured that’s what you really meant. That’s why I didn’t leave.”

We come together at the same time, arms wrapped around each other, our mouths crashing. The taste of her red lipstick fills my mouth the way I fantasized about for months. Her bare nipples press against my chest, little pebbles that beg to be teased.

I release her and drop to my knees so that I can bury my face into the silken skin between her perfect tits. Her scent surrounds me. It invades my fucking brain and takes control of my higher thinking abilities. All I have to go on is primal instincts.

And every instinct tells me she’s mine.

Her fingers dig into my scalp as I move to her left breast and suck on the hard tip.

“Yes,” she hisses.

It’s insane how much this woman turns me on, so much so, that even her soft whimpers as I worship her nipples has my balls ready to pop.

“Fuck, Peaches. You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good. I like crazy.”

“I just bet you do.” Chuckling, I stand and lift her up. Her legs instantly come around my waist, and I walk us to her table. I lay her onto her back, and take a moment to enjoy the sight of her.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her hands roaming her own body. She bends her knees and plants her feet by her ass, spreading her legs, her sweet pussy opening for me.

I like that she’s not shy about her sexuality. As long as it’s only with me.

“Do you play with yourself?” I ask, my gaze fixed on her glistening slit.

She gives me a wicked smile and touches her pussy. “Always.”

“What do you think of?”

“You’ve been a regular in my fantasies.” She touches the bulge in my pants with a slender foot. “What about you?”

I bend over and kiss her just below her belly button. “Lately, all I can think about is this.”

Dragging a chair closer, I sit. A man ready to devour his feast.

And she knows it too.

She’s breathing hard, her fingers kneading at the table beneath her as I pull her so that her core is close to the edge. Under the hanging pendant light, I can see the glint of the moisture that begins to build there that tells me she’s turned on by this.

Her little asshole puckers temptingly, and I stroke the tip of my thumb over it. She jerks slightly as a strangled moan escapes her. The knowledge that it’s just as sensitive as every other part of her makes my balls tighten more.

Unable to control my hunger for her any longer, I bring my tongue to her, licking her from that tight anus to her clit. She cries out, arching her back when I flick the already swollen nub.

Returning to her center, I lap up her juices, drinking them. Drinking her. My little hellcat. My enemy.

I stop to kiss the soft folds, letting my teeth graze over them only momentarily, loving the feel of them against my lips.

My hands slide up her calves, forcing her legs backward, opening her more to me. I move off the chair and drop to my knees, my mouth never leaving her sweetness. Her fingers delve into my hair as I worship her intimately, sucking on her clit, feeling her swell as her arousal grows.

“Don’t stop, Gunn. Please don’t stop.” She begins to rhythmically thrust her hips upward, stopping only to gasp when I drag my tongue to her ass, then back.

Every inch of her is delectable, sweet as honey and intoxicating. It’s a heady mixture that has me in a drug-like haze as I tease and suck and flick until she’s pulling my hair painfully, holding me to her, and screaming out her pleasure.

When she finally releases me, her panting ebbed, I stand. I tug down my zipper and my dick springs free.

Her gaze locks on mine as I place the head of my cock over her clit. I spell out my name on it in pre-cum. Thankfully, I have a short name because my control wanes quickly.

Positioning myself at her entrance, I slam into her. She’s so fucking slick and tight, made just for me.

She cries out as I thrust, her hands reaching for the edge of the table to keep herself from flying off the other end.

“I’m going to come again,” she screams, and the sight of her coming undone, of her naked body while I’m dressed, is so fucking sexy I lose the fight and come too.

I’ve had intense orgasms before but this is mind-blowing. I pump into her, once, twice, each one delivering a huge amount of semen. And I like the idea of filling her with my stuff.

It’s not until I’m fully depleted that I finally drop onto her chest and let out a long breath. “Okay, now it can never happen again.”

“Till tomorrow?”

I nod. “Tomorrow.”

I prop my head up on my hand and begin a slow leisure caress of the most dangerously beautiful body I’ve ever seen, my gaze following everywhere my fingers do, over the soft skin of her ass and lower back. But I pause when she tenses as I move upward to where her scars begin.

It’s been like this the last three nights, because like the masochist that I am, I’ve been unable to stay away from the hellcat and her sweet pussy.

I’m fully aware that it’s risky behavior. She could at any moment sell me out to her boss and just like that, I’d be dead. Worse yet, I get the sense that when my corpse is discovered, the pennies will be put over my balls instead of my eyes. Luca would know I’m a traitor.

As true as it might be, —I am a fucking traitor to my friend, my brother—I can’t stay away from her. God help me, she’s either put a spell on me or I’m that weak.

I’ve tried everything, drinking, weed, even another woman. Nothing was strong enough, and the other woman, much as she looked like Scarlet, it wasn’t her and I couldn’t fuck her because it felt like cheating. Cheating!

So I’m here again, in my enemy’s bed, tickling her because it helps her sleep.

At least it does until I get near the scars. “You don’t want me to touch you there?”

It takes her a moment to respond. “I’m not sure. No one ever has.”

Her statement makes me frown, but when she doesn’t elaborate, I continue with the slow caress.

“How did you get them?” I tilt my head to get a better view. It wasn’t until yesterday that she even let me see what I’d felt the first time we were together.

She shrugs. “I engage in physical conflicts. You know that.”

My brows pinch harder. Yes, I can attribute some of these to battle injuries, perhaps even a good whipping. For example, the scars nearest her spine are what I’d expect, thick and jagged and different lengths.

However, it’s the ones closer to her sides, just over her ribs, that can’t be so easily explained. These are long and thin and nearly the same size. Two lines are clearly fresher than the others. Pinker.

But the one that stands out above all the others has me wondering exactly how she’s getting these. This one is wide, but made up of many single lines, as if someone took a very thin blade and cut in the same place again and again and again. When I spot a recent slash amongst those many, one that is still scabbed, I touch it.

“Stop!” Scarlet jumps out of bed as if I burned her, and slams against the wall. Her eyes wide, she holds her side protectively.

“Scar.” I scramble after her, but she puts her hand out.

“Stop,” she tells me, her tone low but laced with panic. Then she laughs and takes a deep breath as she shakes her head. “You keep that up, I’ll take a magnifying glass to all your imperfections too. See how you like it.”

“How the fuck did you get those?” I demand.

She begins to collect her clothes from the floor, all the while keeping her back turned from me. “It’s not for you to worry about.”

“Scarlet, dammit. I know what self-inflicted cuts look like.”

Stopping dead in her tracks, she turns to me and laughs sarcastically. “Do you know what an ass looks like too? If not, there’s a mirror.” She points to the one above her dresser.

“You’re cutting yourself.”

With a roll of her eyes, she shoves her blouse on. “There, now you don’t have to see it.”

“Scarlet.”

“Go.” She points to the door. “Just go. Go!”

Angry with her, and with myself for caring, I get out of bed. “You really are crazy, you know that?”

“Yeah, well you’re the one that keeps coming back for more. So what does that make you?”

I put on my pants haphazardly and shove my feet into my boots. “Never again.”

She grabs my shirt and throws it at me. “Don’t let the door hit you on the ass.”

“Crazy!” I leave her apartment in a fury, and am no calmer when I reach my place thirty minutes later.

“Fuck!” I tear into my house and throw the keys on the table. For a long time, I stare at them, trying to get my breathing under control.

I’m not even sure what has me so angry, the fact that Scarlet does this shit to herself, or that I care.

And I shouldn’t care.

Scarlet is my enemy. If it weren’t for our fucking, we’d already have killed each other.

So why does this matter to me?

“It doesn’t,” I whisper. “She doesn’t matter. She doesn’t fucking matter.”

Maybe if I had a chance to say it enough times, I’d believe it. But just as I’m about to recite it again, I get a call.

“Kyle,” I say. “Did you get something?”

“You won’t believe this,” Kyle tells me. “I actually did.”

I plop down on a chair. And because for some fucked up reason that’s beyond me, she does matter, I say, “Send me what you have.”