Blood & Bones: Rook (Blood Fury MC 7)

“Truthfully, I’m glad you don’t use it. You’ll never hear me calling you by your real name.”

“Ain’t gonna get bent about that.”

Even his own family probably forgot what his real name was. None of them had ever called him Randy once he adopted his nickname. Jemma had used it a couple of times to piss him off when she’d first come back to town because he was being a dick. Other than that, the name on his birth certificate was gathering dust. It only occasionally had the dirt kicked off it whenever he was processed during an arrest.

“Since you were fifteen,” she repeated. “I guess that isn’t a road name, then. That was after the original Fury imploded, right?”

“Yeah. A few years after. Some Fury kids were given nicknames but not all of them.” He had wanted one, but none ever stuck.

“How did you get it?”

In the last seven weeks, they hadn’t talked about anything too personal. She hadn’t asked about his mother, he hadn’t dug deep when it came to her family. So this line of conversation was curious. Not to mention, strange timing.

So once again, that confirmed she had seen something in his face that he hadn’t wanted to reveal.

Even so, his erection was now screaming, his fingers were coated in their combined juices and he was ready to fill her once again. Fuck having conversation.

“In juvie,” he reluctantly answered.

“How?”

“Cheated at cards. Made a bit of scratch doin’ it. Got accused of being a rook one night after winnin’ a game. Name stuck. I liked it.”

“You don’t mind being called a cheater?”

“It fuckin’ fit since it was true. It’s also a chess piece,” he reminded her.

“You play chess?”

“Fuck no.” He’d played checkers plenty of times in juvie and while in prison, but never the more complicated game of chess. He never had the patience to learn the rules. He also couldn’t make scratch or cheat at it as easily as he could with cards. “Rook’s another name for a crow, too. Crows are fuckin’ smart.”

“Are you smart?” she teased.

“Already know the answer to that. If I was, wouldn’t be lyin’ naked in your bed right now.”

Her body shook as she laughed quietly.

Her laughter swept away any remaining dark thoughts in his head. His mouth twitched and he brushed his thumb over her lips which were curled with amusement.

Those lips that were really fucking good at giving head. Christ, his dick was quickly turning to steel thinking about having her mouth on him with her long silky black hair spread over his lap.

“Tell me… What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

He rolled over until she was under him and he stared directly down into her eyes. “Fucked a cop.”

Even in the dark, her blue eyes sparkled. “What’s the second worst thing?”

“Fucked her more than once.” That was when the slope had become dangerously slippery.

“But here you are,” she whispered.

“Here I fuckin’ am.”

He grabbed two pillows and tucked them under her head, tilting it perfectly for what he wanted to do next. When he did that, Cujo, who was curled up on his own damn pillow on Jet’s side of the bed, lifted his head and gave Rook an annoyed look for disturbing his little rat bastard dreams.

Rook ignored the Chihuahua and shifted up to straddle Jet’s chest, his erection now jutting out hard and thick toward her mouth. He caught the drop of precum clinging precariously to the tip with the pad of his thumb and held it to her lips.

His dick flexed when she took his thumb into her mouth and licked it clean while continuing to stare into his eyes. He grabbed the beaded tips of her nipples and rolled them roughly between his fingers.

Fuck. Yeah.

While he came for the sex, he stayed for her. While she most likely assumed he stayed only for more of the scorching hot sex.

He plucked both nipples, stretching them as far as he could, and her husky moan filled his ears.

Leaning over, he gave her a long, crushing kiss, tasting himself during a fierce war of their tongues. After a few breath-stealing moments, he pulled away enough to whisper against her mouth, “You need a tattoo of my name.”

Suddenly he couldn’t swallow, a lump wedging itself tightly in his throat.

Why the fuck would he say that out loud?

That one stupid slip just handed her power over him. That revelation gave her the knowledge of how he felt, which he had been keeping buried deep. She could use it to destroy him, whether she’d do it on purpose or even by accident.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping like fuck she would just ignore what he said.

But, of course, she fucking didn’t.

“Why would I want something so permanent for something so temporary?” she asked, sounding confused.

That lump in his throat turned into a crushing weight on his chest. He could no longer hear over the rush of blood in his ears.