He knew he should quit her, quit coming to her place, quit sinking his dick into her, quit leaving his mark on her skin.

But he couldn’t.

He fucking couldn’t.

It ate at him when he showed up like an addict for his next fix. It ate at him when he left her because he didn’t want to go.

Not once had she asked when he’d show up next.

Not once had she begged him to stay.

That ate at him, too.

The more time he spent with her, the more time he wanted to spend with her. But she acted like she could quit him at any time. That if he just stopped showing up, it wouldn’t wreck her one bit.

He figured she’d simply shrug it off and say, “Hey, the sex was great while it lasted.”

Whether that was true or not, he wasn’t sure since they hadn’t talked about it. When they did actually have a conversation, it was about stupid or mundane shit.

The garage.

Cujo.

Her cousins’ kids.

Teddy and Adam.

Her time in the Marines.

His time in prison.

Never about the Shirleys.

Never about the club.

Never about her job.

When they were naked and in her bed, neither of those last two things existed. It was simply easier that way.

Their time together was spent in a bubble. Unfortunately, he was waiting for that bubble to fucking burst.

Because it would.

When it did, he worried about the fallout it would cause. Who would get fucked the hardest.

But until she removed that hidden key, changed her locks, installed an alarm system, he kept following that pattern.

And, bonus, she hadn’t shot at him once.

One night he’d even caught her tracing the club colors on his back when she thought he was sleeping.

Another night she’d caught him staring at his latest bite mark when he thought she was sleeping. The same as he was doing right now. Staring at the one he gave her two mornings ago, which was beginning to fade.

Tonight was her night off and he’d slipped away from the bunkhouse to use that damn key, to climb into her damn bed, to slide into her.

Maybe slide wasn’t the best way to describe what had happened.

When he had walked through her open bedroom door, she had been waiting for him wearing nothing but a wicked smile. That alone would’ve gotten him instantly hard if the anticipation already hadn’t driven him to that point.

Her hair was a black cloud nesting her head, her knees were bent and wide, and she was touching herself.

“You’re late,” she said breathlessly, giving him an indication on how long she’d been waiting and getting herself warmed up.

“Apparently.”

“I started without you.”

That she did.

He couldn’t strip off his clothes fast enough. He’d kept his eyes on her the whole time as he did so and when he was finally naked, his dick had its own heartbeat and his balls were pulled high and tight.

But tonight had been more than wanting to fuck her.

He had to keep stopping to take a breath because the urge to push her past the point of pain had been very real.

Not because he hated her.

But because he didn’t.

And that fucking scared the shit out of him. It also made him a bit ragey.

That hate he now felt was directed at himself. He hated the fact he no longer hated her.

He had been teetering on that fine line. The one separating what he felt for her. Before the night she saved him up on the mountain, both of his feet had been firmly planted on one side of that line. In January, he began straddling it, and now…

Now, he was about to step over and stand on the side that was foreign to him. The line he never thought he would cross.

Not with anyone.

Especially her. A fucking cop.

He was sleeping with the enemy.

For fuck’s sakes, it was more than that. Way more than it ever should’ve been. He never should’ve allowed himself to get that far. To bring that second foot over.

But here he fucking was, his feet now cemented on the other side of that damn line.

Everything he believed in and followed in his life now seemed upside down. Even himself. He didn’t know which way was up.

Worse, he had no idea where she stood. Not even the slightest fucking clue besides being willing to have him in her bed. Not once had she said no to what he’d done or whatever he wanted to do.

Without her being aware of it or even wanting to, Jet might have shoved him over that line.

Right now, he had no idea what time it was, he just knew it was the dead of night. He had set the alarm on his cell phone to wake him up at four-thirty so he could get back to the farm before his brothers found him missing.

He was currently wrapped around Jet’s back, possessively cupping one tit with one hand and her cunt with the other, his middle finger sliding back and forth between her slick pussy lips, still swollen from the brutal and welcomed pounding he’d given her. He lazily dragged his finger through the cum he had planted deep inside her. Her ass was red, the skin still hot against his where he’d spanked her without mercy. Not that she asked for any.

Tags: Jeanne St. James Blood Fury MC Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net