Beyond Control (41 page)

Before she could respond, he clutched her hips and drove into her so hard that she pitched forward into the table. She bit her tongue, but the pain vanished in an instant, consumed by the fire sparked by his next thrust.

Deep and unforgiving, the kind of merciless fucking she'd had to coax out of him before. Rough grunts punctuated each thrust, along with the slick sound of his cock slamming into her, their bodies slapping together.

It
should
have been selfish, Dallas using her body, wrenching his pleasure from it too fast and hard to give her any in return, but his hands held her hips at that desperate angle, and the sparks multiplied, turned to fire.

He cracked one open palm against her hip. "Is this what you wanted?"

Yes.
The word didn't come, but she did. The knife wrenched free and clattered to the wood, but Lex couldn't help it. Her entire body shook, trembled on the edge of something
more
, so she pressed her forehead to the table and whispered his name.

"Christ," he groaned, dragging her back to meet his cock. "I love fucking your pussy while you're coming. So fucking tight and hot."

She swept one arm out, desperate for something to hold on to, and the knife skittered away and flipped onto the floor. "Don't stop--"

"Never," he promised, riding her faster. "I'll never stop fucking you. Never stop needing you. Loving you."

Something crashed off the pegboard above the table, and the impact vibrated through the wood, up through her body. In the midst of a storm of ecstasy, that small, quiet sensation centered her.

Never stop.

Dallas had always known how to get her off, but this was different. Having him
with her
--and knowing she always would--tripped something primal deep in her brain. Every nerve ending lit up, and she tensed again with a mounting pleasure that went on and on, tighter and tighter as his movements grew less and less controlled.

A rumbling noise started in his chest, twisting feral possession with satisfaction, and gave way to a string of snarled encouragements, words bitten off between fast jerks of his hips. Things like
fuck yeah
and
so good
, commands that stroked inside her. "Take me," he growled, barely audible over the rattle of the table and the blood pounding in her ears. "Love it. Tell me you love this."

"I love--" Something snapped, just fucking
snapped
, and her brain locked down. The waves turned to bolts, lightning strikes that curled her toes and left her gasping for enough breath to scream.

He did it for her, a wordless shout of triumph as he rode her clenching pussy to his own orgasm. He slammed home a final time before freezing there, his body locked within hers, his forehead dropping to rest between her shoulder blades.

He panted, his skin slicking over hers with every breath. Lex tried to lift a hand to his hair, but her limbs felt too heavy. So she licked her lips and shivered beneath him.

Lips brushed her nape, a soft kiss through her hair. "You all right, love?"

"I can't move."

"Me neither." But he did anyway, levering himself up before easing his cock from her body with a soft hiss. His hands were gentle as he eased her panties and jeans back into place, relentless possession in every touch.

He turned her, lifted her onto the table, and grabbed her arm with a curse. "Shit, you're bleeding."

There was a shallow, harmless gash running along the outside of her forearm. Lex stared at it and laughed. "I don't even feel it."

Dallas still frowned, sparing only a few seconds to straighten his pants before ordering, "Stay here."

He stomped out of the easy circle of light only to return with a small med kit. He fussed over her arm, applying med-gel and frowning even harder when she winced at the contact.

Lex watched him, rapt. "I was willing to stay and be her, you know. The queen. For you and the gang. That's what I had decided tonight."

Dallas froze in the act of opening a bandage, his gaze suddenly wary. "And now?"

She touched his face, every last shred of doubt gone. "I still want to be her for everyone else. For you, it's different. I can be all of me."

He fixed the bandage in place before catching her hand and turning to kiss her palm. "Christ knows I'm not going to stop being dumb, Lex. And I'll always want power. To keep us safe, and because it's who I am. But I'll come to you first, and be honest about it. Because I'll always choose you. Over power, over money, over everyone and everything. You just have to believe it, okay?"

"I do." Part of her always had--the part that had held her back from seeking more of Dallas's attention over the years. It was safer, in a way, to flirt with that devotion rather than submit herself to it...and then have it snatched away. "I need to come first. Well, me and the gang."

"Hey." He caught her chin. "Everyone and everything. Get it straight in your head, woman, 'cause it's too late to back out."

"Stubborn ass."

"Whose stubborn ass?"

Lex wrapped her arms around him, relishing the heat of his bare skin against hers. "All mine."

Ace had always had a hard-on for symbolism and subtext.

With the bulk of Lex's hair wrapped around his fist to keep it out of the way, Dallas watched Ace lay the final lines on Lex's new marks. His own throat and shoulders still stung with the reminder that he'd gone first, and the knowledge that they'd soon be a matched pair pleased the darkest, most possessive urges Dallas had.

Or maybe it was just seeing his name--his given name, his
real
one--curled across the nape of her neck in stark black ink, a private claim no one could refute. Ace had risen to the challenge of marking his king and queen, crowning an elegantly understated version of the O'Kane logo. Dallas's was set in bloody barbed wire and Lex's in thorny rosebuds, but both faux-collars ended the same way--with the name of the person who held them together.

Knowing ALEXA stretched across the back of his neck was almost as satisfying as watching DECLAN take shape across hers. Ace might be a cocky pain in the ass, but sometimes Dallas was reminded how much the bastard deserved that attitude.

Ace swiped a hand across the back of Lex's neck and patted her shoulder. "Almost done. You hanging in there, sister?"

"It doesn't tickle," she murmured, "but I'll make it."

Dallas shifted his grip on her hair and bent down to meet her gaze. "It looks fucking fantastic. And hot."

The corner of her mouth kicked up in a smile. "You'd better think it's hot. That's my skin he's marking up."

With the way she was bent forward over the chair, he could have stood up and given her an eyeful of just how hot he found it. Not that a blowjob was his top fantasy right now, as sexy as Lex could make it. He wanted to stare at that ink as he rode her, every thrust made sweeter by the promise staring back at him, the one that said
forever
.

"Uh-uh," Ace said loudly enough to interrupt his fantasy. "I recognize that look. I'm glad as hell you two aren't fighting anymore, but no getting frisky while my needle's near someone's neck."

With a laugh, Lex reached out and wrapped her fingers around Dallas's. "I recognize that look, too. And he has a point."

Dallas spared Ace a glare and turned his attention on Lex. "No sex," he agreed before lifting her hand to his lips. He kissed one fingertip, then sucked it between his lips to flick his tongue over it in the most suggestive way he could manage.

Her laughter died, and she released a shaky breath. "Have it your way, but it's on you if Ace fucks up my ink because you had me squirming."

"Christ, you're worse than Jas and Noelle," Ace muttered, swiping a cloth over the back of Lex's neck. "Thank God I'm done. Let me slap some gel on there, and you crazy kids can go fuck each other silly."

Ignoring him, Dallas crouched down to bring his gaze level with Lex's. "Hi, darling."

"Hi." She grinned. "Isn't it cute how he seems to think we're going to clear out of here before we get dirty?"

"Oh, I don't think he'll mind until he realizes he
does
have to clear out."

Ace's head popped around the side of Lex's body. "Wait, what? You're gonna screw in my studio, and I don't even get to watch?"

Dallas cupped Lex's cheek. He'd come so close to losing everything, but because of her strength and her heart and her willingness to trust again, he'd never have to face the world alone. "Our studio," he corrected absently, smiling as he rubbed his thumb over Lex's lower lip. "Isn't that right, love?"

"Ours," she whispered, leaning into his touch.

Nothing in a life of scrabbling for power had prepared him for how good it felt to watch her lips form that word, one simple sound that erased a future of lonely decisions and replaced it with companionship and shared responsibility.

Ours.

"Damn right," he confirmed, and sealed the bargain with a kiss.

• Beyond Control
  is the second book in the BEYOND series. It's preceded by
  Beyond Shame
  (available now) and followed by
  Beyond Pain
  (coming later in 2013)
  
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Not ready to say goodbye? Turn the page for a sneak peek at what's in store for the O'Kanes...

Rachel was dancing again.

From her vantage point behind the scuffed bar, Six had a decent view of the stage even with men standing three deep on the opposite side. A lot of them were tall fuckers too, the kind who'd usually tower head and shoulders over Six, but the floor behind the bar was high enough to put her at eye level with even the biggest brutes. O'Kane--or someone close to him--clearly understood the advantage height could give a bartender who had to face down a room of horny, drunk thugs.

Usually those drunks were crowded around the bar, jostling for booze or position or attention, but Six hadn't poured a single shot since Rachel's act had started, and she didn't think it was the novelty of having a new dancer that held these men captivated.

No, it was the fact that Rachel had lost her damn mind. She was grinding to the music as she peeled off layer after layer of perfectly respectable leather to reveal the white, lacy garments beneath. Men stared slack-jawed as she rocked and swayed and ran her hands over her body, lost in a haze that fascinated and repelled Six in equal measure.

She was an object to these pea-brained cavemen, nothing more than the picture they'd hold in their heads when they stumbled back to their hovels and took their dicks in hand. The way they watched her should have made her weaker.
Lesser.

It should have. But these men crowding the stage were nothing to Rachel. Flies to be swatted away if they got too close. Grubby children with their noses pressed against the dirty glass of the bakery, dreaming of something they could never have while hunger gnawed in their guts.

Rachel was oblivious, and somehow that turned the men into the weak ones. The ones who were less than.

Six saw it over and over, every time an O'Kane woman took that stage. Power in the place of helplessness, pride where she would have felt nothing but shame. There was a secret in these women that went deeper than the ink around their wrists, and sometimes she thought if she watched for long enough, she could unlock it for herself.

Of course, watching could be uncomfortable for other reasons.