Page 41 of The Fire Went Wild (Hunter’s Heart #2)

CHAPTER FORTY

JAXON

I throw Charlotte on my bed and rub my cock as she rolls over, her eyes blazing with that lust you only get after a good kill. I’ve got it myself right now. If I don’t get inside her, I’m pretty sure I’m going to die, Hunter or not.

“Get those fucking clothes off you,” I snarl at her, fumbling with my own zipper. The scent of death hangs heavy in the air, and it just makes me want to fuck her more. Especially as I watch her drag her blood-soaked pants down over her hips and thighs and calves, the movement giving me tantalizing glimpses of her pussy.

“Get your fucking cock out,” she snaps back as she settles onto her elbows, spreading her bare thighs wide for me.

I grin at the lust dripping off her words, and I do as she asks, showing her how hard I am for her and what she’s done.

She runs her tongue over her lips like she’s hungry for a meal. But I have something else in mind.

“Not like that,” I tell her. “Get on your hands and knees.” I stride around the side of the bed, my cock bobbing with each step. I’m so hard it’s almost painful. Charlotte watches me. Doesn’t move, though, the little tease.

“Do it,” I order, and I hear the Hunter in me coming out, as if she’s terrified prey. She doesn’t react like prey, though. She just lifts her chin in defiance and slides her hand down to play with her clit.

“Make me,” she snaps back, her fingers a blur against her pussy.

I nearly come then and there. The only thing stopping me is the need to be inside her.

I hurl myself at her, grabbing her by the waist and flipping her over onto her belly. She shrieks and squirms, fighting back, but I’m stronger than her. Older than her. I know her strength will come, too, in time, and then she’ll really be fun to play with.

But tonight, she’s still new enough that I overpower her easily, even though I can feel her muscles straining against her body’s usual softness, a contrast that drives me wild.

I press myself down on her, pinning her against the bed, and whisper in her ear. “I want you to look at what you did while I fuck you.”

Charlotte moans, and, for a moment, relents. I take that opportunity to slide off her and drag her around so she’s facing the room instead of the wall. So she’s facing the blood and the dead bodies. All the things we accomplished together.

“That’s better.” I nibble at her ear, as I scoop my hands around her belly and jerk her up so she’s on all fours. “You like what you see?”

“Yes,” Charlotte gasps, her fingers digging into my blankets. “I know I shouldn’t?—”

I slap my hand around her mouth and press my lips to her ear. “I won’t hear any talk like that, little Hunter.”

Charlotte tries to respond, but I keep my hand in place as I run my other hand down her bare back, stopping it on her ass. She glances at me sideways, eyes brimming with expectation.

“Talk like that gets punished,” I tell her, and I feel her smile against my palm.

Then I slap her ass, firm and hard, letting her mouth go so I can hear her cry out. And she does, beautifully, a gasp of pain that she follows up with a perfectly fierce, “Fuck you.”

She’s smiling as she says it, though, and she wriggles her ass in the air.

I slap the other side, hard enough to leave a crimson handprint on her pale skin, and Charlotte gasps and squeezes the blankets more tightly, staring up at me with flushed, parted lips.

“Again,” she whispers.

“Okay,” I whisper back, smoothing my hand over her hair. I’m so flush with love and lust that I can barely stand it. “But keep pretending to fight me.”

Her grin widens, and her eyes glitter, and she nods.

Then she tries to scramble forward over the side of the bed. I grab her by the hips and jerk her back into position. I grab her chin and make her look out at the mess my room’s become, while I slide my other hand between her legs so I can feel how drenched she is between her thighs.

“Look at what you did,” I whisper. “I know you liked it.” I slide a single finger into her pussy, stroking her walls.

“I didn’t!” she protests, her words shuddering with moans.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” I yank my hand and slap her ass again, using enough force that she jerks forward over the edge of my bed frame. She catches herself, her crimson hair hanging into her face.

But she doesn’t look away.

And she presents her reddening ass to me. Again , I think, the word so sweet the way she said it, and I smack her three more times, each one harder than the last. I check her pussy between each slap, adding another finger each time. Charlotte groans and whimpers and gets wetter until I slide all four of my fingers inside her, stretching her out.

She trembles and braces herself against the bed.

“That’s what you get for denying what you are,” I tell her, stroking my fingers inside her until she’s groaning and jerking back on my hand. “Now you get your reward for killing so well.”

Charlotte cries out, and her pussy flutters in tight fast contractions around my fingers.

“Are you coming?” I cry out, delighted by this development. “When I said reward, I meant my cock.”

Charlotte laughs through her moans, and I keep working her, plying her until the contractions stop and she slumps forward over the bed frame, still staring out at the bodies and blood.

“Yes,” she finally says, and it’s only then that I pull my hand out of her. “Yes, that made me fucking come, okay?”

“Don’t sound so put out by it.” I slide my pussy-wet fingers into her mouth and Charlottes sucks on them eagerly, her tongue winding through each digit. I position my cock between her drenched thighs, rubbing its swollen length up against her wet pussy. Teasing her. “I’m proud of you.”

I pull my hand out of her mouth and gather her hair up in my fist, pulling her up so she’s on her hands and knees properly.

“I’m still getting used to it,” she says softly. Shyly.

“Will this help?”

And then I enter her with one hard thrust.

Charlotte bucks against me, and I pull her head back by her hair, holding her in place so she’ll keep looking at our victims as I fuck her astonishingly wet cunt.

“Will it?” I ask, punctuating the question with an especially hard thrust, deep enough that I feel my cockhead bump against some firm, fleshy barrier.

“Yes!” Charlotte screams, shoving back at me. “And fuck, that hurt.”

“I won’t do it again.” I go back to my slower strokes. “Unless you refuse to answer my questions.”

Charlotte rolls her hips against me. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

We fall into a rhythm, our slick flesh slapping together as I hold Charlotte by her gorgeous blood-red hair so she can look at all the gorgeous red blood we spilled. It’s a work of art, all our destruction. An art installation, the blood gleaming like rubies on the wall and the floor and across my dresser and the doorframe. Charlotte’s breaths quicken, and her moans turn deeper and throatier.

“Touch your clit,” I tell her, yanking on her hair to show her I mean business. “I want to feel you come again.”

She doesn’t even pretend to fight me, just drops her chest down and snakes her hand between her body and the bed. Her fingers flutter against my cock as I keep fucking her, my own pleasure building into a tight knot of heat at the base of my dick.

“Hurry,” I tell her. “I’m not gonna last long.” I let go of her hair so I can fall over her, cupping her tits and licking the sweat and blood off the back of her neck. How blood even got there, I don’t know, but I’m not going to question it.

“I’m so close,” she whispers back, and she’s still looking out at the corpses and the blood, her body twitching.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I whisper, squeezing her tits even though they’re half crushed against the bed. “Just like you.”

Charlotte announces her second orgasm with a loud, keening moan, and her hand goes still against her clit as I keep fucking her through those endless rippling pulses because I’m on the fucking edge myself, and her tight, clenching orgasm is what tips me over. Right before I spill, I yank myself back up and bury myself as deep into her pussy as I can, roaring as my cum spurts into her, my orgasm rolling hot and intense up through my stomach and into the rest of me. Charlotte whimpers softly like she feels it too.

I ease myself out of her and then gather her up in my arms, pulling her against my chest and then collapsing both of us backward onto the bed. She nestles up against me, her cheek resting in the crook of my shoulder.

“Just as a warning,” I tell her, running my hand down her bare arm. “If you try to get up right now, I’m going to chain you to the bed again.”

Charlotte laughs. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m just being honest.” I pull her in closer to me, breathing in her scent through her hair. I love how it blends with the scent of blood and death hanging in the room, how it adds notes of dark sweetness to the inevitable rot. “This is the best part,” I whisper, brushing kisses against her forehead. “Holding you afterward.”

But then Charlotte doesn’t say anything, and a hot, lurid embarrassment flushes through me. The fuck was I thinking, saying that kind of romantic shit? Just because I love her—like, really love—doesn’t mean she loves me. And I don’t blame her.

Her fingers crawl across my chest. “You don’t have to say stuff like that,” she says softly. “I’m a big girl.”

My embarrassment turns to confusion. “Wait, what? It’s true.”

Charlotte lifts her head, frowning as she studies my face like she’s looking for evidence of something. A lie. I panic a little and spit out the first thing I can think to say.

“I love you.”

I immediately regret it, and I squeeze my eyes shut so I don’t have to look at the reaction on Charlotte’s face. “Sorry,” I mutter. “You don’t have to—You’re not obligated or anything. I just?—”

She touches my face, so gently that I immediately shut up.

“Open your eyes, Jaxon.”

I force myself to do it, eyes fluttering. Charlotte gazes down at me, her palm still cupping my cheek.

“Say it again,” she whispers, her eyes boring into mine.

My heart’s pounding. All the things I’ve done in my life and this scares me more than any of them.

“I love you,” I whisper.

Charlotte draws her brows together. “You mean it.”

“Well, yeah.” Hesitantly, I reach up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “You’re the kind of woman I always wanted but didn’t think I’d ever have.” I can feel the heat in my face and I wonder if she can feel it—her Hunter senses are finally waking up, that much was made clear earlier. “Beautiful and strong and kind of a smartass. Another artist?—”

“You’ve never even seen my art,” she interrupts. “That doesn’t count.” She tilts her head toward the bodies.

“First of all, it does.” I smile, still stroking her hair. “But I want to see your work. Your gouache paintings, I mean.”

She smiles. “You remembered.”

“I remember everything you tell me.”

Charlotte sinks her head back down on my shoulder, and I can feel her own quickened heartbeat. Her own nervousness. I pull her a little closer.

“I think,” she whispers. “I think I might love you, too.”

I freeze. “You don’t have to say that. I’m not really going to chain you to the bed or?—”

“I mean it.” She sits up and gazes down at me, her hair clinging to her cheek. “There was something inside me that needed to be broken, and you did that for me.” She shakes her head and looks away, lost in thought. “You showed me how to find the happiness I’ve been searching for since the day my parents kicked me out of my house. Since before then, even.”

Something brims inside me. Happiness or hope or one of those sunlight-bright emotions I don’t experience all that often. Although I’ve been experiencing them more lately.

Ever since Charlotte waltzed into that diner.

I grab her hand and braid our fingers together, admiring the way it looks, having our bodies linked like that.

“Tyloch,” she says suddenly. “He said Raffia was a sacrifice.”

I groan. “Do we have to talk about him?”

She giggles and shushes me. “No, I just—it was your gods, wasn’t it? They asked for the sacrifice? And that’s why they sent you to kill him?”

I ghost my hand over her hair. “Yeah,” I say. “Whatever Tyloch wanted from them, Raffia was the payment. But they sent us to collect because they wanted me to wake you up.”

She smiles, her eyes glittering, and then kisses me. “I’m glad they did,” she whispers against my mouth. “So glad. But they aren’t—they aren’t going to be upset about?—”

She gestures toward the carnage.

“No,” I tell her, which is the truth. “All they care about is their payment, and they got it.”

“What about the ULS?” she asks, worry knitting her brow. “You said they’ll keep coming?—”

“I said if they keep coming, we can handle it. That’s just a Hunter’s life. ” Which is also the truth. But I’m not worried about humans or their weak magic. Especially not with Charlotte at my side.

I pull her into me so I can kiss her all over and lick the blood away from her skin and make her moan and squirm against me. She reacts exactly as I hoped, settling back on the bed, spreading her legs for me. I kiss down to her breasts and then bite gently on her right nipple, making her gasp.

“Jaxon,” she moans, threading her fingers through my blood-sticky hair. “I want?—”

Her question evaporates into another gasp as I catch her left nipple in my teeth. She arches her body into me, and I keep kissing down her belly, heading toward her cunt. Eating her out will get me hard again in no time.

“You want to fuck me?” I ask against her skin. “Don’t worry, cher. I’m working on it.”

“No. I mean, yes, but—“ She tugs on my hair, lifting my face to meet hers. “You remember what you said earlier, about how my first death needs to be special?”

All the air rushes out of me, and the only thing I can do is stare at her wide, pretty eyes, black against the blood smeared across her face.

“I want you to do it,” she whispers. “I want you to initiate me.”