Page 94 of Shadowed Sins: Nitro

"This is such a bad idea."

"The worst." But he's leaning in, and I'm pulling him closer.

His mouth crashes into mine, and all pretense of control evaporates. I open for him immediately, letting his tongue explore with frantic hunger. His hands tangle in what's left of my gala updo, pins scattering onto the sand.

"Someone could see," I manage between kisses, but I'm hiking my dress up, needing his hands on bare skin.

"Let them." His mouth finds the bruise on my throat from last night, sucking hard enough to darken it. "Let them see how much you need me."

Footsteps on the boardwalk above. Close. Multiple voices—teenagers from the sound of it, laughing about something involving vodka and someone's ex.

"Jax—"

"Shh." He spins me suddenly, pressing me face-first into the wooden beam. "Hands on the wood."

The position is devastating. Bent forward, ass out, completely vulnerable. My knife is in my thigh holster, unreachable at this angle. The small gun in my ankle boot, impossible to access. If someone attacks right now, I'm helpless.

The realization should terrify me, but I'm so wet it's soaking through my panties, dripping down my thighs.

"Fuck, you're shaking." His hand slides up my dress, finding the evidence of how affected I am. "Jesus Christ, Mira. You're drenched."

New voices overhead. Adults, debating whether to check under the pier for "inappropriate activity."

My entire body clenches with fear and arousal so twisted together I can't separate them. This is what I've become—someone who gets wet from vulnerability.

"I can't defend myself like this." The words tear out in a frantic whisper. "If they find us—I can't reach my weapons—I don't have papers—I can't—"

"I've got you." His hand wraps around my throat from behind, not squeezing, just holding. Claiming. Protecting. "Trust me to keep you safe."

Trust.When I have no legal identity. When being arrested means disappearing into a system that would realize I don't exist. When I'm bent over with his hand around my throat and completely at his mercy.

"Okay." The word escapes before I can stop it.

"Okay what?" He pushes my panties aside, his fingers sliding through my wetness. "Tell me what you need."

"You." The admission burns. "Inside me. Now. Before they—"

Footsteps on the stairs. Someone's definitely coming down to the beach level.

"Fuck, we should—" I start to pull away.

"No." His hand tightens slightly on my throat, keeping me in place. "You don't get to run. Not this time."

I hear his zipper, feel him pressing at my entrance. The footsteps grow closer. A flashlight beam sweeps across the sand twenty feet away.

"Someone's coming," I whisper, panic and arousal making my voice crack.

"Then you better be quiet." He slides inside me in one brutal thrust, and I have to bite my hand hard enough to draw blood to muffle my scream. "That's it. Take all of me while they're right over there."

He starts moving, each thrust pushing me harder into the beam. The rough wood scrapes my palms, my dress riding up completely. His hand on my throat keeps me exactly where he wants me—helpless, exposed, his.

The flashlight beam sweeps closer. I can hear radio chatter now—security guard, checking for vagrants and public indecency. If he turns this direction, if he sees us—

"Fuck." The word tears from me as my body clenches around him involuntarily. "The guard—"

"I know." Jax's voice is pure satisfaction in my ear. "You're squeezing my cock every time that light gets closer."

I can't answer. Can barely breathe between his hand on my throat and the terror of discovery. The guard is maybe thirty feet away, the beam of light cutting through the shadows in front of him, searching.