Jagged Edge

If ever.

Raine gives a low moan when I drag my lips over his mostly spent cock, then I release him and draw back to remove the full condom. Even limp, his dick’s impressive and sexy, and fuck stop it, Jason.

Tying the condom off without thinking, my hands used to this job, I lean back, trying not to shake.

It fucking scares me. This guy scares me. I shouldn’t like how handsome he is, shouldn’t notice how blue his eyes are, how strong his body is. I shouldn’t want him. I don’t get to want anyone. And besides, I never really have.

I can’t fall for johns. For guys. Can’t afford that, and I can’t trust guys anyway. Never trust anyone. That’s the only truth in my life, the only fucking constant.

So I wipe at my mouth and get to my feet, wincing as the bruises over my ribs flare with pain, and try to forget how sexy Ocean’s little brother is, and how my body seems to respond to him like a well-trained dog. I bet if he told my dick to get up and roll over, it would.

Jesus.

I leave him standing there as I look around for the trash, then locate one in the kitchen and get rid of the used condom. When I return to the small living room, he’s still in the same position, only his deep blue eyes have sharpened, losing the haze of pleasure that covered them before.

And they’re intent on me, a question in them.

Fuck that. I’ve paid back what I owed him, and now I really need to get out there and make some money, or Simon will have my ass handed to me.

“J,” he says, his voice hoarse, and it sends another hot tingle down my spine. Why the fuck is he hoarse? He was damn quiet as he came compared to other guys.

“Jason,” I mutter, unable to stop myself. “Not J, or Jase. Got it?”

Fuck, fuck! There, right there is the reason I should never, ever do Raine Storm. Because he rattles me.

Not because he’s hot as fuck, or even because he was such an ass to me years back, so then what?

Besides, since when do I hold grudges? Only against hot guys, apparently. One particular hot guy who just happens to be the beloved little brother of Ocean, and besties with Jesse Lee, the two people I count as friends, that I can count on if I need help. Although they have their own families now, and I… I’m beyond help.

“Jason.” This time Raine moves toward me. Shit, I waited too long to reply. “What’s wrong?”

Laughter bubbles up my throat, and I swallow convulsively. Wrong? What the hell is he talking about? “Nothing.”

Where the fuck’s my tank top? And my jacket. I need to get going.

He grabs my arm as I spot my black tank top by the sofa and bend to lift it. His grin is tight, and a groan escapes me at the pain flaring where he’s gripping me.

Instantly he lets go, and I stagger sideways into the sofa, jarring my ribs.

“Goddammit,” I grunt, the pain pissing me off. Let’s face it, it’s been a shitty evening.

Well apart from sucking Raine off.

God fuck, I need to go now.

“Wait a sec, are those bruises?” Raine is suddenly closer, crowding my space. “I thought it was a fucking tattoo.”

He’s lifting a hand to my neck, and I jerk away, before he touches me. I don’t even know why, but I’m damn sure if he does, I’ll crack and break.

You’re right, I think, it’s a tattoo. A tattoo of pain and violence, a mark of my life, a life unlike yours. But I don’t say anything, just keep backing away instead, as if he’s threatening to grab me and…

And what, hit me? Kick me?

Kiss me?

Not sure which would be worse.

“I gotta go,” I whisper, my tank top bunched up in one fist. “Gotta work.”