Chapter 9

ChapterNine

Shiloh

Violence is never supposedto be the answer.

Right.

Tell that to the sense of vindication circulating my ribcage. Gone is the weight I’ve been carrying around on my shoulders for four years. I’m floating. I’m buoyant and breathless as Blaste guides me down the brightly lit mall promenade, totally at ease in his big, rangy body. Swaggering and collected, as if he didn’t just beat the snot out of my high school bully. He didn’t even break a sweat. The only proof of the altercation is a few droplets of blood on his cheek, a few more on the grey shirt collar.

Might as well face it, I’m turned on.

I’m really, really turned on.

I’m supposed to be a pacifist, but every time I replay the moment Blaste clocked Zander in the head with the tray, another wave of heat goes crashing through me. Every time I think about him demanding that apology in that growling twang, my breath stutters in and out.

“Where do you want to go next, sugar?”

“I…don’t care,” I say, dazed. “Anywhere. But we should probably get out of here soon, because mall security is going to be looking for you.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not.”

Blaste stops short, doing a double take at the closest shop window. “Son of a…” Just as quickly, he averts his gaze. “There is a mannequin over there wearing…I don’t even know what to call it, but it’s not underwear.”

I follow his line of vision. “That’s Victoria’s Secret.”

“Jesus, there isn’t much being kept a secret, is there? My brother would be dying right now.” The tips of his ears are actually turning red. Not three minutes after he broke Zander’s nose and he was blushing over underwear. “Do you…wear things like that, Shiloh?”

I do a quick examination of the mannequin. “Thongs? Sure. I mean, I own a few of them, but that place is a little out of my price range. I get mine from Walmart and they do the trick.”

He swallows. “I’d really like to see you in that one, specifically.”

“I don’t have the money—”

“Stay right here where I can see you. I’ll be right back.”

I stand in the middle of the mall corridor watching as my boyfriend from the past enters Victoria’s Secret and strips the thong off a mannequin, shoving it into his pocket and walking back out, whistling casually. Behind him, a store employee looks almost shell shocked by what is occurring. I know the feeling.

And I also know we only have about ten seconds to get out of sight.

“Blaste, run,” I breathe, taking his hand and sprinting for the far end of the mall, toward the entrance to the indoor parking garage. I should be terrified right now. I’ve never been an accessory to a crime before—and such a bizarre one at that—but I’m not scared at all. With Blaste beside me, holding tight to my hand, nothing can touch me. There’s nothing I can’t handle when someone makes me feel ten feet tall. Important. Like the me I’ve never been happy or relaxed enough to discover.

“In there!” I gasp, skidding on a heel and throwing myself against the metal door marked Emergency Exit. Thankfully, an alarm doesn’t go off and we’re now safely inside the dark parking garage, which is full of silent cars. There’s a dripping sound somewhere in the distance and an electric buzz from the overhead lights. A voice on the level below. Other than that, we’re alone. We’re alone and struggling to catch our breath in the cool dimness.

Something moves in my peripheral vision and I notice a mounted camera on one of the concrete beams is moving…panning in our direction.

“We have to move,” I blurt, grabbing Blaste’s wrist and pulling him down the aisle and behind a blue sedan, leaving us between a concrete wall and the hood of the vehicle. “We should probably stay here for a while. Until they stop looking for us.”

“You think they’re going to call in the cavalry over a pair of panties?”

“Those panties are probably thirty dollars.”

“Thirty?” He holds up the sparkly, pink thong. “It’s two strings tied together.”

I’m trying to breathe in between bouts of laughter. “You pay for the name on the tag.”

“Well Victoria has a lot of nerve.” He’s grinning as he watches me, but it begins to fade slowly into something more serious. “You’re so fucking gorgeous when you laugh, Shiloh. When you’re not laughing, too. All the time. I could spend eternity looking at you.” He reaches for me, catching my hips in two big hands and tugging me closer. “No. I will.”

“Good,” I whisper, my bones turning to liquid at the feel of his breath warming my face.

He scrutinizes me. “Do you mean that?” His chest rises and falls. “Eternity, Shiloh? Whatever it takes?”

I take a moment to define exactly what he’s asking me. We’re speaking in broad terms, but I know what he actually wants to know: would I go back in time with him? And I don’t even have to think about it. I’ve never felt like I was in the right place, always with a sense of missing something big. Now I know it was him. “Yes,” I say quietly, my voice wobbling. “I can’t imagine not feeling like this for the rest of my life.”

“Me either,” he breathes, our lips flush.

We melt into a kiss that weaves magic around my head, slowly, our mouths moving with pent-up hunger. It’s like the starvation has been unleashed inside both of us and we’re not strong enough to hold it back, the force of his kiss bowing my back over the crook of his elbow while he devours me from above, eager sounds coming from both of our throats. His strong right arm supports me while his left drops down, tugging the hem of my T-shirt dress up to my waist and kneading every part of me he can touch—my hip, my thigh, my waist—before tucking his index finger into the elastic of my panties and pulling them down.

“Don’t put me off any longer,” he pants in between heated licks of the interior of my mouth. “Woke up hard as nails, didn’t I? Now I’m fitting to fuck my way out of this pain you put me in. You tease my cock just by breathing.”

“Do I?”

I’ve never felt sexy until now, when I see what I do to this incredible man. I have the power to make his body hurt, to drive him wild. Not only that, but I make him try harder to please me. Pleasure me. I make him protective and possessive and sexually frustrated just by being me…and that gives me confidence. And it only continues to grow as he yanks down my underwear and grips my backside, palming and kneading my cheeks frantically, like he can’t touch enough of me fast enough. His erection is broad and thick between us, the length and thickness reminding me of the largest cucumber at the market. Perfect, just perfect. Dampness spreads between my thighs in anticipation of the first time he fills me.

How he’ll groan. How he’ll sweat and strain and pump his hips. I relish the power I possess to make him lose control…and he makes me feel safe enough to wield it.

“Don’t you want to see me in that little pink thong?” I ask haltingly when he lets me come up for air.

“God, yes,” he growls, pressing his forehead to mine. “The question is, can I stop kissing your perfect fucking mouth long enough to put it on you.”

“Maybe I won’t kiss you again until they’re on,” I tease him, evading his mouth.

There’s a glint of warning in his eyes. “Don’t deny my tongue the taste of you, Shiloh. Not unless you want to be responsible for a man losing his mind.”

“I won’t,” I whisper, half contrite, half excited. “My taste belongs to you.”

“Damn right it does,” he snarls, nipping at my bottom lip while drawing the lacy, pink undergarment out of his jeans pocket. “So does your hot, young cunt, understand?” Shivering hotly, I nod, holding my breath as he hunkers down, holding the panties open and urging me to step into them, slowly dragging the smooth material up my thighs. “As long as I’m keeping it satisfied, I’ll dress you up any way I want.”

“Yes,” I whisper, every part of me loose and trembling. And the new, confident part of me takes over in a way I don’t question. It just feels natural and right to settle my bottom on the hood of the blue sedan, my dress still rucked up around my hips. “How did you dress me up today, Blaste?” I murmur, arching my back slightly and watching him consume the sight of my peaked breasts, his hand dropping to vigorously stroke the bulge in his jeans. Feeling like I hold the keys to some magical kingdom, I settle my feet on the front fender of the car, slowly spreading my legs, so he can see…everything. The pink strip stretching over my sex, growing soaked and pulling taut. I show him more and more until his chest is heaving as fast as my pulse is racing. “Did you dress me up like a whore?” I ask quietly, pouting.

“No,” he rasps, shaking his head, as if trying to dislodge that notion. “I swore I’d never use those words with you again and I meant it.”

“I know you did,” I say, twisting my fist in the front of his shirt and drawing him into the space above me, close enough to whisper against his mouth. “Just because you won’t ever call me a slut again…doesn’t mean you can’t fuck me like one.”

“God almighty,” he roars, grappling with his zipper. “Are you trying to kill a man?”

“No.” I can’t catch my breath, his hungry, male desperation is sucking the wind out of me. “I just love the way you want me.”

His button comes undone, zipper jerking down, his fist dragging his shaft out into the open, revealing how engorged he is. Thick and wet-tipped and flushed with a shade of purple. “Want you, sugar? I want a new truck. I fucking require this pussy.” He hooks his hands beneath my knees and yanks me to the edge of the hood, creating a squeal of sound. Flesh on metal. It’s somehow so erotic that I moan in response, releasing more moisture between my thighs. And he watches it happen with glittering eyes, taking hold of his manhood and slapping it three, four, five times against my flesh, before ramming home inside of me.

It’s such an unexpected invasion that I scream into the palm of his hand…his hand that curves over my mouth just in time, trapping the peal of sound.

“I’ll lick it later, sugar. Right now, it’s one of those times I warned you about.” He rears his hips back and pounds back into me, his eyes rolling into the back of his head like he’s never felt anything so good, so consuming in his life. “You asked for it, didn’t you? Spreading your legs for me and showing me how wet and pretty it is. By God, you begged me for force.”

I bite my lip to keep from screaming and I nod, letting him rut me without mercy on the hood of this unknown car. My butt screeches up and back, up and back, while he pummels me, his forehead growing sweaty in the curve of my neck. Every time I think he’s entering me as hard as he possibly can, I’m proven incorrect, his aggression amplifying.

At the same time, my enjoyment soars.

There’s tension brewing inside of me, slowly drawing all my muscles taut.

So taut until I’m baring my teeth in pain, my sex flexing without my consent, making him groan epithets into my hair, his teeth razing my shoulder with mounting frustration. For some reason, I turn my head and catch the reflection in a passenger side window of this strapping man taking me with frantic drives of his body, my legs open and trembling with the force of each violent pound. I’m at his mercy and my mouth is open in an O of obvious pleasure, eyes knowing. Exultant.

The words slut and whore no longer have any power over me.

I take ownership of them right here in this moment.

They do apply to me, but only when it comes to this man.

“Whenever you need me,” I purr against his jaw. “I’ll get on my back. Cheap and wet.”

“Ahhh, fuck me. Sugar, sugar, sugar.” His choked rush of breath is like fire beside my temple and the slaps of his flesh into mine grow wild, his body becoming that of an animal…and I love being his prey so much that the lust is swallowing me whole, making my sex pulse in a way that is uncontrollable, primal, a willing victim’s response to being so purely dominated.

“Don’t you dare make this cunt any tighter, do you understand me, Shiloh? I won’t have it spitting my sperm right back out. You’ll take my come deep when I damn well give it to you.” He wraps his hand around my throat, licking the side of my face, jaw to hairline. “Going to shape your belly up nice and round. It’s going to be a shotgun wedding, only I’ll be the one pointing the shotgun. At anyone who gets too close to my girl. Fucking. Mine. Got that? Open your thighs wider if you understand me.”

“I understand,” I whimper, struggling to get my knees open more, more.

That’s right, I’ll let him talk to me like this, possess me any way he wants. Because I know he values me, cherishes me, needs me. He’ll fight my demons and demand respect for me, like he did in the food court. And I love this. I’m craving his filth and the notion that I could become pregnant with his child.

Oh my God. It’s an inevitability at this point. We’re supposed to be as close as it’s possible for two people to be close. I feel that truth everywhere and so does he, it’s evident in his mouth as it rakes up my neck, his lower body moving in a furious rhythm, our slippery sexes colliding in rough insertions that feel so good, so vital, so recklessly horny that everything inside of me seizes up, preparing to release, making him growl my name like a curse.

“Can’t loosen up this fuck hole, no matter what I do,” he shouts behind his teeth. “And I can’t take one more zipper-tight stroke, sugar. I’m coming. Oh fuck! Soak it in, hear me?”

“Yes!”

I latch onto the intensity in his eyes as he watches me, sweat dripping from his brow, his hair mussed and gorgeous as he gives me one final thrust, pitching us over the edge of oblivion together, his face a mask of pure awe, his hips shaking violently between my legs, hot moisture blasting home inside of me, seeping out onto my inner thighs and belly, his roar captured behind a clench of his teeth, his fist tightening briefly but firmly around my throat. We tremble together, gasping, his shaft jerking and jerking inside of me, flooding me endlessly until he drops like a boulder, all his weight pinning me to the car, his breath pelting the moist curve of my neck, my eyes staring unseeingly at the concrete piling above.

“Shiloh,” he breathes, raising his head to look down at me, affection etched into his features.

I reach up to stroke the lines between his brows. “Yes?”

“Eternity.” He kisses me hard, his chest shuddering up and down. “Say it.”

“Eternity,” I breathe against his lips.

And only then does he relax, letting me stroke his hair in the heavy silence of the parking garage, our hearts pounding in tandem.