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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

JAXON

F ighting Charlotte got me hard as hell, and every time I thrust into her tight, clenching pussy, it’s like I’m fighting her again. I pin her against the table, reminding her that I’m the older Hunter. The stronger Hunter. But when she wriggles around to look at me over her shoulder, I let her.

I want to see the blazing lust in her eyes. I want to see my blood smeared across her lips.

She fucks me like she’s still fighting me, stretching her arms across the table to grab onto the other side and give herself leverage to shove herself on my dick.

“I’m not a Hunter,” she snarls.

“Keep telling yourself that.” I drag her backward across the table so I can reach down and thumb her clit. Her pussy feels as intoxicating as ever, but the soft swell of her ass against my lower belly makes me want to explore previously unknown territory. “You sure as hell fuck like one.”

She snarls at me and thrusts backward as if answering my accusation with proof. I work her clit as fast as I can, her arousal drenching my fingers. I need her as wet as possible if I’m going to find out what her asshole feels like.

Charlotte snarls again, then moans. All her cries are wordless. Animalistic. I swear I can feel my gods coursing through her. Or maybe that’s just the first quaking shudders of her orgasm.

“See?” I grin, quicken my pace on her clit as I bottom out inside her and soak up her wetness. “Look how fast you’re going to come for me.”

And then she does, her whole body shaking. She drops her head down on the table and keeps fucking me, hips rolling with an unsteady rhythm. I hunch over her, circling my hand around her throat to lift her head so I can talk into her ear.

“You fought well,” I whisper. “But you shouldn’t fight me. I’m your teacher.”

She meets my gaze with a slack, glossy expression. “You’re my kidnapper.”

“Yeah?” I run my thumb through the dried blood clinging to her chin. “Then why are you fucking me?”

And it’s true that she’s fucking me . I’m not moving. She’s the one twitching and jerking around my cock.

“Tell me,” I order.

“You have a good dick.”

I grin at that. “Is that so, cher?” I shove my thumb between her lips and she draws it in to suck on it. I don’t even have to ask.

“Mmmhmm,” she mumbles.

I pull my thumb out of her mouth and hold her by the throat again. Her body quakes. Her eyes flit sideways.

“How’d you like my good dick in your asshole?” I murmur.

That gets her attention. She whips her entire torso around to look at me “Is that supposed to be punishment?” she asks. “For fighting you?”

I’m stunned she asked that, to be honest. “Punishment?” I laugh. “No, little Hunter. I want to reward you.”

Charlotte’s eyes go wide.

“You fought so well.” As I talk, I rearrange her, pulling my dick out and rolling her onto her back. She doesn’t fight back. In fact, she spreads her legs once I have her in position, making it easy for me to slide my fingers into her sopping pussy. I drag the juices out and rub them around the rim of her asshole.

Charlotte groans, arching her back.

“I want to make you come again,” I say. “But we should mix it up, don’t you think?”

Charlotte gazes at me. She’s so fucking gorgeous, with her blood-red hair and blood-smeared mouth and her eyes dark with lust.

“You’re too big,” she says.

I slide one of my slippery fingers into her asshole, and she gasps, the muscles there fluttering and clenching.

“Say that again.” I grin. “I like it when you flatter me.”

Something flashes across Charlotte’s face—a kind of coyness I haven’t seen before.

Or rather, I have seen it before. Once.

When I was fucking her on top of that bloody corpse in Houston.

“Your cock is too big to fuck me in the ass,” she says.

In response, I ease a second finger inside of her. Charlotte sucks in her breath, bites down on her bottom lip.

“You’ll be fine.” I slide my two fingers in and out of her asshole, slow and steady, and work her soaked pussy with my other hand, drawing out more and more wetness. Charlotte slumps back on the table, hoisting up her hips and spreading her legs wide for me.

“That’s it.” I focus on my efforts: Her pretty, glossy pussy. My two fingers disappearing inside her asshole. “You’re doing so good.”

I’ve only done this once before, with a dead girl and half a bottle of lube. But Charlotte is so easy to fuck.

And so unbelievably wet.

“If you’re going to fuck my ass,” she gasps. “Fucking do it already.”

My cock is screaming the same thing at me, but I need to get myself good and slippery again. I pull my hands away from Charlotte and slide my cock into her with one firm stroke, leaning over to get as deep into her pussy as I can. Charlotte starts working her hips, fucking me, but I push down her legs to still her.

“Patience,” I tell her as I slide my now-drenched cock out of her cunt and line it up with her asshole.

Charlotte whimpers softly as I press my cockhead through the tight ring of muscle. “Shhh,” I whisper. “You’re a Hunter. You can take me.”

She nods, her expression determined. I reward her with my clean fingers on her clit, drawing out more of her arousal to ease my passage. The Unnamed growls inside me, eager to claim her. Because I’ve already had her in two holes. Finished in two holes.

It’s time to take the third.

I keep rubbing her clit as I slide my cockhead into her ass. Her body clamps down on me, and I groan at the squeeze of it. Push a little more. She takes deep, careful breaths and shoves her hands up under her shirt to play with her tits.

I slide a finger into her pussy.

“Fuck!” she cries out, jolting up against me

“Be still,” I order, although I’m deep enough inside her that it doesn’t matter. I’m deep enough inside her, in fact, that I start to thrust a little, slow and careful. The Unnamed wants me to go faster, wants me to destroy her, but I hiss at him. She’s my Hunter. I’ll train her—and reward her—as I see fit.

And what I want right now is for her to come again.

“That’s it,” I breathe, gently stroking the spongy wetness inside her cunt, drawing out more shivers and quakes. “You’re taking me so good, cher.” All the while I pump in and out of her asshole, keeping my strokes slow and sensuous. Charlotte yanks her shirt and bra up, giving me a beautiful view of her soft, pillowy breasts and the swollen pink nipples she keeps abusing with her fingers. I knew there was a reason I wanted to do this with her on her back.

She doesn’t respond to me with words, just desperate grunts and moans. Her body trembles; her clit flutters. She’s close to coming. So am I. Her tight little asshole has a death grip on my cock, and I don’t know if I’m going to hold out much longer.

“You gonna come for me again?” I ask her. “You deserve it. You put up a good fight.”

Charlotte’s eyes flutter open and lock into mine. She still doesn’t smell exactly like a Hunter, but that expression in her gaze is pure predatory lust. “You liked it, didn’t you?” I grin. “Fighting me? Making me bleed?”

“Yes,” she gasps out, squeezing her tits tighter. I slide another finger into her pussy. Fuck her ass a little harder. If she was going to say anything else, it’s lost now, with the way her eyes roll back and her back arches and her soft round stomach trembles. But then she surprises me. “Fuck, Jaxon, I’m going—I’m going to?—”

And then her words really do leave her. She dissolves into a long, throaty wail, and the whole lower half of her body contracts around my cock. I keep stroking her inner walls. Keep thumbing her clit. And keep thrusting into her asshole, because my balls are tight against my body and heat keeps building in my stomach and the Unnamed’s whispers are a hurricane in my head. It wants this, me and Charlotte joined together. This is how it’s meant to be—me and her. Hunters aren’t as solitary as some of us like to think.

And that’s the thought that pushes me over the edge, that I’ve finally found it. Her . My partner. My mate. In killing and fucking and loving, all of it. Another Hunter with whom I can share everything.

I roar as my cum erupts inside her her ass, and then I slump down, burying my face in her tits. She’s still gasping, trying to catch her breath, but her hand comes up and touches the back of my head. Her fingers comb through my hair—a gentle, loving touch. Faint. A little distracted, a little lazy. A little afterthought.

No woman’s ever touched me like that.

I press my nose into the valley between her breasts, then kiss her soft, trembling skin, licking away the beads of sweat there. I’m afraid to look up, afraid that when I do, I’ll see her disdain when what I want more than anything is to see her love.

So I pull myself away, keeping my eyes on her body instead. She gleams with sweat, and we made a mess on the table, our mixed arousal glistening on the wood.

“Jaxon.”

It gives me a jolt, hearing her say my name. Reminds me of how she said it right before she came. But she doesn’t say now like it’s a bad thing. Or like I’m a bad thing.

I force myself to meet her eyes. She looks pleasure drunk. Sated.

But also sad, and it feels like someone’s squeezing my heart in my chest.

“What—what’s wrong?” I ask, even though I really don’t want to hear her answer.

Charlotte sits up. Her hair’s a mess, sticking up from where I had her pressed against the table. Her skin’s flushed, her lips swollen. Bruises are already forming on her neck where I kissed her a little too hard.

But what I focus on are the tears glistening on her lashes.

“What’s wrong with me?” she asks. “Why am I—why do I feel so shattered?”

I freeze. The Unnamed is long gone, but my Guardian is nearby. Silent. It has no words of wisdom.

“Because of what we just did?” I brace myself for her rejection, but she actually shakes her head no.

“Not that,” she whispers roughly. “That was—” She hesitates, looks at me through her tangled hair. “You know what you’re doing.”

I blush. The Unnamed knows what it’s doing, more like.

Charlotte looks away. “I feel like something’s broken inside me,” she whispers. “And I—” She looks at me again, and her tears have fallen in dark lines over her cheeks. “How do you do this?” she whispers. “How do you just be this—this monster?”

She doesn’t say it cruelly, and she’s not wrong anyway. I’m a monster. My daddy was a monster. My grandparents, too. My mom?—

Well, I don’t know much about her.

“I grew up with it,” I finally say, which is the truth. “And you—something kept you from knowing what you are for a long, long time.”

Charlotte lifts her face toward me. I step between her legs and reach over, and when she doesn’t pull away, I cup her face and run my thumb over the soft curve of her cheekbone.

She doesn’t pull away from that, either. Instead, she presses into it, eyes never leaving mine.

“I don’t want it,” she whispers.

Those four words break my heart. Because how can she be mine if she can’t even accept what she is?

But then she falls forward, collapsing into my arms. And even though it hurts that she hates what she is, at least she still wants comfort from me, the monster.

So I give it to her.