“Yes,” she moaned, eyes hazy with lust like fog along the horizon just before sunrise. He ran a finger along her neck, across skin someone else had sucked, and it rose up to meet him.
“You wanted me to be jealous,” he said, and she tried to shake her head in his hold. Anteros quirked a brow. “Then what?” He placed a palm at her throat.
“I wanted to hurt you,” she whispered, blue eyes shining at him, bright even in the dark. “Like you hurt me.” He tightened the grip on her throat, bending down to whisper in her ear.
“Smart girl. I can’t be jealous when something belongs to me entirely.” He loosened his hold and she drank the air in big breaths. Keeping her hair tangled in his fist, he slid his other hand down the front of her. Brushing over her tits, spreading across her stomach until he reached the seam of her pants. He forced her to kiss him as he tugged her jeans past her ass and she hungrily accepted him. He plunged two fingers inside her seconds later and she arched for him, made small, whimpering noises from the back of her throat.
“I know that sound,” he said, biting her bottom lip.
“Please,” Frankie begged. “Let me come, please.”
“It’s too late for begging,” he said as her nails raked from his neck to his shoulders. “You’ve been bad, Frankie. Disobedient. Teasing me. Provoking me. What did you think would happen?” He lightly trailed the fingers in her hair down her spine and she bent to the touch. “What did you want to happen?”
“Fucking do it,” she groaned, riding him, trying to get the orgasm. Anteros slapped her again and she moaned, nails pricking his shoulders. His hand went back to her hair, knotted it, and pulled her viciously back so he could bite her throat.
“Don’t fucking talk to me that way,” he snarled. “I’m not yours to order around. Understand?” She moaned a loud, frustrated, completely addicting sound. His words were a lie. He was hers to control, to own. Whatever the fuck she wanted, he would do, so long as he could hear that moan.
“Tell me what you want,” he barked.
“You,” she said on a breath.
“Where.”
“Inside,” she groaned, and it echoed down the tunnel.
“Boss is probably cleaning up shop downstairs.” The unmistakable voice of Pretty Boy drifted down the stairs. They froze, and then Anteros pulled her under his chin. In that position she felt safer to him, protected under his arms.
It was a false security.
But it was better than nothing.
“We don’t have long until the second wave gets here.”
Frankie gripped his biceps and Anteros looked at the top of her head. He wanted to tell her she was safe, that he would protect her from anything, but he couldn’t. If they were caught, she would die.
“I’ll go find Crazy A,” Little O said.
“I’ll find Levi. Don’t know where that fucker went,” Pretty Boy said.
“Maybe he’s dead.”
Frankie struggled to get away, but Anteros solidified his grip, caging her with his body. He wasn’t through with her—the torment that had been ripping him apart for weeks was finally gone. She settled, but her nails pricked blood from his skin.
“Assnugget deserves it for serving us a steaming pile of shit for intel…” Pretty Boy’s voice faded away as he walked somewhere out of earshot. When silence settled for more than a few seconds, Frankie struggled against him again.
“You need to go.” She pushed him. “I need to go. They can’t see…see this!” She gestured to how they were. Her jeans were past her ass, pussy exposed. Her shirt had ridden up to show her stomach, and if he had it his way, he would take it all off.
“But you need to come, Frankie.” He dipped down to whisper against her ear, simultaneously pressing a finger against her slit. “You were begging me just moments ago. Are you finished?” With two fingers he spread her then thrust into her with three before she could say another word.
She sighed. “You’re going to get us killed.”
“Should I stop?” he asked, eyes locked onto hers as he pumped into her. She squirmed in his palm, trying to get him deeper.
“We’ll get caught,” she whimpered, but when he removed his fingers, she made a small noise of disappointment. Quickly he spun her around and pressed her against the tiled subway wall. She was a goddamn drug. He would never get enough of her, even when they were at fucking war. He placed a palm on the wall just above her head, steadying himself, and quickly undid his fly.
“You decide how long this lasts, Frankie.” Anteros raised her ass in the air, palmed her cunt, spread her. “I don’t give a shit who’s upstairs because I’m not stopping until you can’t stand.”
With one arm, Frankie reached up and gripped his bicep, holding on.