5. Shattered

Shattered

Saxon

T here's a distinct dearth of conversation as we make the drive to Luka's place in New Jersey, across the river from Manhattan.

Which is fine. Normally, I'm all about silence. I can spend days without saying a word to anyone about anything. But for some reason, Terra makes me chatty. It's fuckin' weird. I've said more words around her in the last couple hours than I have in probably a month.

And, I'm starting to feel the lack of sleep. And the fact that I haven't eaten in I don't know how long. My eyes burn, drooping, wanting to close. Terra has dropped off, snoring gently.

I fuckin' can't with this chick. The feathers-and-leather skirt? The boots? The fuckin' bustier? Shit, the bustier. More to the point, her tits in the bustier—I gotta keep my eyes on the road because one errant glance her way and I'll rock a hard-on for the next thirty minutes. I can't handle that, not in my current state of exhausted, hungry, frustrated irritation.

I know it's time to figure somethin' out when rumble strips jolt me awake.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck ," I snarl.

"Whaaa…?" Terra jerks awake. "What's up? What's wrong?"

I pull onto the shoulder and put the Rover in park. I wipe my eyes with the heels of my hands.

"Saxon? What's wrong?"

I fight with my pride. "I'm falling asleep at the wheel," I finally admit. And yes, it hurts to do so. "I haven't slept in like three days. Almost four, now."

She straightens immediately. "Fuck me, Saxon, why didn't you say something?" When I don't answer, she just snorts. "Ah, right, I forgot, you're a big tough man who don't need no help from the little woman."

That stings. "I've never had anyone I could rely on. Not ever."

"What about your brothers?"

"That's tricky. Yeah, shit hits the fan, I can call 'em up for help. But it's not the same. This shit is my shit. Not yours. Not Silas's. Not Solomon's. And if I know anything about anything, they're both going through the same shit I am. When we left the club we knew what would happen, and now, it's happening." I scrub my face again. "It just ain't in me to ask for help. It ain't because you're a woman. It's because I don't fuckin' know how."

She just looks at me for a long moment. "Try it on me. I won't bite, promise."

My gut shifts, twists. My throat closes. Words dry up in my mouth. I shake my head. "I'm fine." I put the car in drive, but Terra's hand clamps down on mine and pushes it back into park.

"Fuck that. You're playing games with my life, now, asshole. You just said you're falling asleep. I felt the goddamn rumble strips, you big dumb oaf." Her words are harsh, but her tone is soft and her eyes compassionate. "Try it again. And this time, try to trust me. Look at me in the eyes, and repeat after me, okay? 'Terra, will you please drive for a while?'"

Her turquoise eyes bore into me, refusing to let me go. I'm so nauseous I could puke. "Terra, will you please drive for a while?"

The words feel like sandpaper in my throat, like dirt in my mouth.

Weak. Fuckin' weak.

My jaw is so tight my molars ache. And goddammit but she sees that shit like it's written in purple crayon on my forehead.

Her fingers trace my jawline. "Unclench, Saxon. Breathe. Yes. I can drive. I am pissed that you didn't let me see your car collection, though."

Her touch soothes—against my will, it soothes. The tension floods out of my jaw at her touch, and I roll my shoulders…she squeezes and massages there, too.

"Not my collection. My dad's. No time. Second we get a chance, I'll take you there and you can have any car you choose. Shit, have 'em all. I don't fuckin' care. Sol has his, Silas has his, and now I have mine. The rest you can fuckin' have."

"What is there?"

I reach for my door handle. "Let's trade if we're gonna. Can't stay here long."

She climbs over the center console and slinks down my front, sliding her ass down my stomach and onto my crotch, her back to my front. Instantly, I get hard as a fuckin' steel girder. She moans, feeling it.

"You know how easy it would be, Saxon?" She tugs her skirt up. A red thong, now. Her thighs are bare, her pussy begging for me. "You could just…slide right in."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." I can't help myself—I grind against her. "Don't fuckin' tempt me, goddammit."

"I want you, Saxon. Please." She writhes on me.

A clock ticks in my head—I know Cabal procedure and rollout locations, and how fast they can get here, once they send my location to a new crew. We have a matter of minutes before they catch up. I know for a fact they're behind us, somewhere.

But…she's right here. On my lap. Begging for it.

She takes my hands in hers and presses them to her curves, one against her breast and the other between her thighs. Fuck, fuck, fuck, she's so soft. Her thighs are like silk. I cup her breast and then tug the cup of the bustier down to reveal one breast, thumbing the nipple until she whimpers. Her pussy…fuck. I drag one finger along her thong-covered seam. I remember how she looked when she came…fuck, so sexy.

I have zero control over my hands. My fingers tug the tiny little scrap of red fabric aside and find her wet and waiting. Slick, hot, and tight. Delve inside her, eliciting a loud moan.

TICKTOCK—TOCKTOCK …

Just one orgasm. I just need to feel her come apart one more time. Hear her moans. Hear her say my name as she comes.

Find her clit and play with it while I pinch her nipple. She pants, whimpers. "Saxon…oh god. Oh god."

"Give it to me," I growl in her ear, and then nip her earlobe with my teeth. "Come for me, Terra."

"Want…you—oh fuck, fuck!" She grabs the steering wheel and holds on, writhing and grinding. "Want—you. You. Saxon, please. I need…you."

"Come for me." I tease her, then, just a little.

Immediately, she drops her head, one hand clapping over mine between her thighs. "Please, please. Don't stop."

"Come for me."

She grinds on me, gasping, head thrown back, and she keeps her hand on mine, fingers aligned over mine, showing me exactly how she wants it: slow and light, until she hits the cusp, and then faster and faster, and then slow again.

Her cries increase in volume and pace, and then she's whimpering and keening. "In me," she gasps. "In me. Please. Please."

I slide two fingers inside her, and then three, and she clamps down on them, two of her fingers taking over her clit as I pinch and roll her nipple with my other.

She explodes, then, back arching, hips flying upward, a scream ripping from her throat as she comes. She jackknifes forward, bending over, and then spasms upward again, and I fuck her with my fingers and pinch her nipple as hard as I dare.

She comes down slowly from the peaks of orgasm, gasping, panting, sweat on her temple and dotting her upper lip. "You're a devious bastard, Saxon Cabot." She keeps her hand on mine, nestled between her still-shaking thighs. "You keep making me come when I'm trying to seduce you into letting me do… something to you."

"I get as much out of making you come as I would you doing anything to me."

She twists to look at me. "Bullshit."

"It's the truth."

She holds my eyes. "I think you're lying to me. Or lying by omission. There's something else going on."

"We have to go. They won't be far behind."

She rolls her eyes. "Sir, yes sir. Get in the passenger seat—it's my turn to drive this big beast."

She doesn't move, though, so either I have to slide out the door or climb awkwardly out from underneath her. Which means sliding my erection against her.

"Terra, come on."

"It's all you, big boy."

"Lift up."

"Can't, ceiling's in the way." She wiggles her ass downward, against me. Nestles my cock between the soft, nakedness of her sweet, sexy backside, giving me a taste of what I so desperately want.

"Fuck."

I can't move. The feel of her like this…it's too much. I'm so hard it hurts. Need blasts through me, congeals in my veins, obscures my vision, distorts reality, occludes my judgment.

And then she moves. Glides. Gently, slowly, teasingly shifting her hips forward and backward, sliding my iron-hard cock between her ass cheeks.

Fuck.

I grab her hips and squeeze hard. "Quit. I ain't gonna come in my pants like a goddamn kid, Terra."

She leans back and presses her lips to my ear. "So don't. Come inside me like a goddamn man, then," she whispers.

"Don't have a condom."

"I'm on birth control."

"I want to take my time with you."

"I think you're scared."

"Of what?"

"How good I can make you feel."

"Not scared of that."

She lifts and reaches behind herself, finding the clasp of my slacks, my zipper. Undoes them. I bulge out through the opening. She has limited mobility, because of the steering wheel, but she manages to find the waistband of my boxer briefs and tug them down an inch or two, baring the tip of my cock. Nestles it against her opening.

Fuck, fuck. One slide. A nudge. I'm in. Just like that. She wants it. Fuck, she wants it.

"Not here. Not like this, Terra." I slam my head back against the headrest. "FUCK! Fuck. You're not some cheap quick lay, okay? You're more than that to me."

Moving almost angrily, she climbs off me and into the back row. "Get back here, Saxon."

"We gotta go."

"If they show up, you'll handle them. I don't care. Get back here, now." Yeah, she's angry.

Warily, I climb between the two front seats into the second row. "What?"

"Don't hide behind fake nobility, Saxon. Don't bullshit me."

"The fuck? I'm not."

"You are. I can read you. I can't explain this weird, intense, fucked up chemistry between you and me, but it's real, and I feel it, and I know you do too. It means I can read you, and I know for a motherfuckin' fact you won't let me touch you for a reason other than this ‘you're worth more' bullshit. You got no issue giving me orgasms. Amazing ones. Best orgasms of my whole fuckin' life. But you know what? Sex works both ways, for me. Yeah, I like gettin' off. And yeah, I'm usually a player: I get what I want from dudes and I move on because they're all the same. They're interchangeable. Faceless fucks, and that's it. But to steal your words, Saxon, you're more than that to me. So guess what? You don't get to touch me again until you trust me." Her eyes are serious, hard, and furious.

She tugs her bustier top into place and crossed her arms over her chest. "You either trust me, or you don't. If you don't, then I'll get out of this car and walk away. I can take care of myself—I have been my whole life. I don't need you."

"Terra, it's not—"

"BULLSHIT!" She shouts. "You're so fucked in the head, you know that? You're backward. You'll give, but you won't take. And you wanna know a real hard fucking truth? I get it. Probably better than anyone. Why do you think I'm such a slut? It was my way of taking sex back after all the shit I went through. It took me years to understand that about myself, why I was doing the shit I was doing."

"You're not a slut."

"The fuck do you know? You just met me. You don't know the first goddamn thing about me. I am, and I own that shit. I am one promiscuous bitch, Saxon. I know what I am, and I'm okay with it. I own it. I claim it. And I've always known that if the right guy ever appeared in my life, I'd turn my back on that life. So far, I've never met anyone who even remotely tempted me. Until now." She softens, quiets. Shifts closer to me. "Until you. I see it in you. Who you could be to me. It scares the fuck outta me because men have never been anything but trouble. Sure, I'll use them when I need to scratch the itch, and my itch needs to be scratched every day, if not more. No, I don't fuck a different dude every day. Most of the time, I take care of myself."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Terra."

"No shit, Sherlock. But I am. You know why? It's called trust ! I'm trusting you with this shit. Because I fucking like you , you big idiot."

"Why?" I can't help asking.

"Hell if I know, and it's a damn good question. Instinct? Chemistry? The way you protected me? And don't give me shit about how you caused it. Yeah, I know, it's true. You didn't mean to. Whatthefuckever. I've jumped from trouble to trouble my whole life. I've been beaten, raped, manipulated, lied to, betrayed, left for dead, abandoned, starved…you name it, it's happened to me. And guess what, big boy? I'm still—fucking—here . Because I am the toughest fuckin' bitch you'll ever meet. I can take a kickin' and keep on tickin'. So I don't need you…but I like you. I get you. I fuckin' see you, Saxon. We came from different worlds, but none-the-fucking-less, I am you. So you can't lie to me." She glares at me, eyes boring holes into me. "You're scared ."

My throat is hot and tight, and it's hard to hold her eyes. My mouth is dry. My hands are clammy. I'd rather face a hundred armed men than have this conversation.

"All you gotta do is trust me." Her voice is barely a whisper. A breath of wind ghosting through a field. "Tell me one true thing you've never told anyone."

"I was in love with Camilla Marccione." It tumbles out.

"There you go." Her smile is encouraging. "Tell me."

"It was dumb. I got assigned to tail her. Watch her. So, I did. And I fell in love without ever speaking to her. She wasn't like her family. Her dad. Her brothers. She was…decent. Nice to servers. Tipped well. Smiled. Fuck, her smile. I watched her more than the job required. She didn't do much but shop and brunch with her girls and go on trips, but she was just…light, in a dark world. And then…the order came down. Take her out."

"Why? To what end?"

"Make it look like a rival family did it. I could've, easily. I've done it before, way too many times. Make it look like an accident or frame some other bastard. But I couldn't. Not her. So I refused. I broke into her apartment like I would have to take her out, but instead, I warned her. And then I ran."

"But not for long, huh?"

I shook my head. "No. They found me. I took more than my pound of flesh outta them, but they got me. I'd have died if it weren't for Inez." At her questioning look, I shake my head. "Later. She's my boss."

"You ever watch her when you knew you shouldn't?"

I nod. "Absolutely. Felt like shit about it every time, but I was…I'm fuckin' weak."

"You think she knew?"

I frown at her. "What makes you think that?"

"A hunch."

I laugh, a cynical bark. "Yeah, she knew someone was watching. She thought it was her dad's people, so she put on a show to prove she wasn't scared. When I told her it was me the whole time, she…she came onto me. And I…I let her…we…" I shake my head. "I found out later that her dad found out. How, I don't know. She told him, or they were watching her too, I don't know. They scarred her. Cut her up. Fucked her up. Her own father and brothers. Now she's in the life and every bit as mean as the rest."

"And you think that's your fault? For letting it happen between you two?"

"At least partly."

She snorts. "You think a lot of yourself, for someone so self-denigrating. She knew what she was doing. She knew the risks. So did you."

I shake my head. "I should've…"

She cuts in. "You taking it on yourself is so chauvinistic, you know that? She had agency. She knew she was being watched and she put on a show. For you—an unknown watcher. When you warned her, she hit on you. She chose it. You acting like what happened is your fault is you taking her power from her. It was her choice,her agency. We live and die by our choices, Saxon. I own mine. I don't own others'. I don't own my dad's. Or the many, many men who have done fucked up shit to me. What I did after? That's on me."

"Never thought of it like that."

"Obviously."

I scooch down in the seat and lean my head back. Close my eyes. "It's more than just the shit with Camilla. It's my whole life."

Her head rests on my shoulder. "That I understand, Saxon."

"Yeah, I know you do."

Quiet, then. My eyes are heavy. My chest is heavy. Soft warm wet lips touch my cheek. "You can trust me, Saxon," she whispers.

"Tryin'."

The ticking of the clock in my skull fades. Everything fades. God, if I could just rest for twenty minutes, I could keep going.

Fingers move at my chest. Half-asleep, I barely register it at first. Those fingers touch my chest, sending an electric current buzzing through me—she's found scars, round puckered holes dotting my chest, sides, and abdomen.

"So many."

My eyes flicker open. "Just scars."

"Each one a story."

"Not fun ones."

"I know."

My pants are still hanging open, boxers tugged down. My cock, in the intervening conversation, has softened. She traces one fingertip over the telltale curving bulge, cheek on my shoulder. God, I'm too fucking tired to fight it, to argue. I want her touch. I'm not brave enough to tell her how worthless I feel, deep inside, how ugly. I'm selfish enough to accept this from her if she truly wants to give it to me. I just don't deserve it.

That inner conflict is my deepest, darkest secret: despite the bravado and bluster and arrogance, down deep inside, when it comes to the real core of who I am as a man, I'm deeply insecure.

That's not the right word, insecure. I know who I am. I know what I'm good at. I also know what I've done, and that's what haunts me.

I'll always have Dad's voice in my ear, telling me how fucking worthless I am.

My thoughts are scattered like bats bursting out of a cave when she traces my length with two fingers, thumb and forefinger gliding around me. Over the underwear. Unhurried.

Ticktock, ticktock. It's faint, muffled by exhaustion and arousal.

"Terra," I murmur.

"Hush." She nuzzles my jaw with her nose. "Close your eyes. Relax. Just for a few minutes. I've got you."

I've never been gotten before. Not sure how to feel about it. I hear the engine idling faintly. It's armored. Even if the Cabal's lackeys do show up, the armor will at least give us a chance to get away.

And fuck, do I want her. I crave her touch. I want more. I want…fuck, I want it all.

I'm too goddamn tired to resist.

I let my eyes close, rest my head, let exhaustion pull at me. "Just a few minutes. I just need to rest for a minute, then I can take over."

"I know."

Her touch skates over my chest from scar to scar, palm flattening over my pec, exploring the hard plane of muscle, brushing my nipple, shocking me momentarily when she flicks her nail over it.

Her lips touch my jaw, a soft kiss.

Fuck, that does something to my chest, my gut, my heart…everything tightens, heats up, thickens. Tenses.

Her hand glides over my skin, over my abs to the waistband of my underwear. Her lips press a kiss to my throat, just below my Adam's apple, the hollow at the base.

She hooks both hands in my underwear and tugs them down under my butt and then works my pants and underwear down my thighs and past my knees to pool on the floor around my ankles.

My cock unfurls in the cool air, and I hear her sharp, shocked intake of breath.

"Fuck me, Saxon. Your cock is perfect."

"Thanks," I mumble, half-delirious with exhaustion and arousal. "I grew it myself."

She huffs a laugh. Traces one fingertip down my length from top to bottom. "I'm serious. It's beautiful. A work of art."

I can't think of a response, so I offer none.

Another slow, exploratory touch of one finger, tip to root. I'm fully hard, now, and hardening further into painful ache territory. I couldn't stop her now if I tried, and I'm not about to. I'll just hate myself for this later. Add it to the pile of reasons I'm a piece of shit.

Shuffle that poisonous mindset aside—I see it for what it is and fight it most of the time. But moments like this, exhausted, worn down, confused by Terra and this thing that's erupting between us, feeling vulnerable and having shared deep shit with her, a stranger…the poison is hard to fight. So I don't—I ignore it.

"Hey." Her voice is low and brimming with arousal.

I open my eyes and find hers inches from mine. "Hmm?"

"Watch."

"Terra, you—"

Her fingers flatten against my lips, silencing me. "I do what I want. Always. And what I want right now is for you to watch me do this. Watch me take what I want from you."

"Fuck," I breathe. "Terra…"

She pulls her bustier down, baring those magnificent breasts for me. Instantly, my cock turns from steel to diamond, visibly twitching. She laughs, her eyes finding mine.

"Can't get much more validation than that, can I?"

"Let me get naked with you and I'll show you validation."

"Saxon, that is a promise you are damn well going to keep, even if I have to follow you down to hell."

She wraps her fingers around me, then, pulling me away from my torso. Glides the circle of her fingers down my length, thumb pressing against my tip, smearing the leaking pre-cum.

Her touch is magic. Better than I could have expected. Heat smashes through me, arousal pulsing in every synapse, every nerve ending. I want more. Just her hand. Never stop. God, please, never stop.

"I have no intention of stopping, Saxon," she whispers, planting another soft kiss on my jaw, right next to my ear.

Shit, I didn't know I'd spoken aloud.

"Watch," she whispers. Kisses my jaw. My lips, stealing a too-brief kiss. "Watch me, Saxon."

Jesus. How could I look away? Her tits spill over my thighs as she trails kisses down the center of my chest. My hips lift involuntarily, my stomach curling in. My cock aches. Strains. Rages. Leaks.

The soft globes of lovely flesh drape against me, pressing, pressing as she kisses lower and lower.

"Put your hands on me," She murmurs, between kisses. "Show me what you like."

"You. Just you."

She huffs a laugh. "Good answer."

My shoes are slip-on loafers, so I toe them off and yank my feet free of the slacks and underwear, turning sideways on the bench seat. She follows, putting her body between the V of my upraised knees. My back is to the door, which isn't exactly comfortable, but I don't fuckin' give a shit.

Terra is touching me. Kissing my belly, my navel, my hipbone. My thigh. Hands on my thighs, rubbing up my belly to my chest, clawing downward—slowly, sensually.

She glances up at me, making sure I'm watching. Smiles at me. Eager, aroused, wild—pink tongue running over white teeth, sliding over her lips in anticipation. She nuzzles her cheek against my belly, tongue flicking out to dart a sly little lick of my tip. She hums as if the taste is delicious.

And then, without warning, she takes my cock in her mouth. She moans, a sound of pure delight, lips at my glans, tongue swirling around the leaking tip. I have to hold back, abs tensing—I'm not ready for it to be over. But fuck—the wet heat of her mouth is pure heaven. Like nothing I've ever felt.

Just because it's her, I think. Something about her.

A growl escapes my throat, ripping free unbidden. I need to touch her—she wants me to. I cup the back of her neck gently, and then slide my fingers into her hair, over her scalp, feeling the curve of her skull, the cool silk of her hair. I touch her ears, tracing the delicate curve of them. Her temples. I bury both hands in her hair, then, holding it away, gather it in my fists. When did she take it out of the braid?

She cups my balls in one hand, caressing my belly and chest with the other, her lips still wrapped around my glans, tongue still swirling and tasting and flicking. Teasing. Tasting. Touching.

With a gentle fondling squeeze of my balls, she very, very slowly slides her lips down, down. Taking more and more of me, millimeter by millimeter.

"Fuck, Terra—Jesus."

Her eyes lift to mine, and I see nothing but arousal in hers. If she's not enjoying this, then she's the best actress in the world.

She doesn't stop taking me—more and more, until her nose touches my belly. Fuck, she took all of me. She backs away just as slowly until her lips reach my glans, and then my tip…her lips suction around the head, just barely surrounding the hole in the very tip. Tongues me, there.

I'm holding back, aching, throbbing. I need to release—but I can't. I need…I don't fuckin' know.

She does.

She bobs on me, little dips to take me deeper each time, and her hand massages my balls, caresses, thumb circling, fingers dimpling, one long middle finger sliding lower and lower.

The ache is all-consuming, now, and the effort to hold back has me straining, sweating, groaning. Every muscle is tensed and hardened. She knows. She looks up at me, mouth stretched around my cock in a wide O, turquoise eyes laughing, dancing with erotic glee. She loves this. Me fighting it, and her winning.

My balls boil, a hot line of need searing up my cock.

"Fuck," I growl. "Terra, fuck. I…I gotta…fuck! I can't—can't stop it. I can't hold it back much longer."

That one finger delves deeper, to a part of me no one has ever touched, and she massages me there, not entering, just applying pressure. Fuck, it's too much.

I groan, a long, ragged sound, and my hips lift. She moves with me, pulling back as I lift up, keeping her mouth around my glans. Tongue licks, swirls.

And then, fuck—she buries me in her throat all at once and swallows around me and then she's truly going down on me, backing away and surging down with sensual aggression. I arch, gasping, damn near whimpering in agony as I fight to hold back for just a moment longer, wanting this feeling to last, to never end, to never lose the heaven of her mouth on me. Her eyes watch me with an aroused eager satisfaction that wrecks me to the core.

Up and down, faster and faster, gulping for breath and moaning.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck."

"Mmmmm," she moans. "Mmmmhmmm?"

"I'm gonna come, Terra."

"Mmmmhmmm?"

"I can't stop it."

"Mmm-mmm." A negative.

"Can you take it all, Terra?"

"Mmmmm-hmmm!" It's an immediate, eager, resounding affirmative.

The hot line of pain in my cock pulses, pounds. She wraps a hand around my base and squeezes, hard . Her mouth moves on me furiously fast, all lips and tongue and wet beautiful mouth.

It's torn out of me, then. It shatters me. I yell, a primal bellow.

She whimpers, a sound of surprise, and then she slows, taking me deep, releasing the vise-grip hold she had around the root of my cock, and caresses my length as she pulls her mouth back around my glans, bobbing there as I come and come and come.

It explodes out of me in rush after rush, pent up for I don't know how long. Her finger does dip inside me, then, and the nuclear orgasm goes supernova, and she pulses that finger while still oh-so-gently massaging my balls. Her other hand slips and slides around my base, squeezing and caressing. Her mouth takes me and takes me, and she swallows it all, and moans and whimpers all the while, between gulps and gasps.

I can't speak, can't move—I'm paralyzed. Frozen even as something inside my soul melts.

Even when my orgasm ends, she's not done. She keeps going. Caresses my length, holds it, kisses the tip, licks the drips away, suckling until I jolt, groan, whimpering a very unmanly sound.

Finally, she lets me go. Rests her cheek on my belly above my utterly destroyed cock, and gazes up at me. Smiles. Like she sees something in me—something good. Something worthwhile. Something worth having, worth wanting, worth fighting for.

My eyes burn, and I close them.

She sees. Goddammit, she sees anyway.

"I see you, Saxon," she whispers.

I'm too shattered to reply.