Ignite (29 page)

             
“It
was
your fault! We
told
you! Everyone told you this part of town is unsafe! But you’re too fucking dense in the head to listen!”

             
“He came after me because of
you
!” I shrieked back, hugging my knees to my chest even tighter as the tears flooded from my eyes. “He saw you! He thought I was another one of your sluts, apparently! Because I’m sure you’ve got a whore house somewhere around here, right? Is that how you got your money?”

             
“Fuck you, Sara!” he cursed, shaking his head as he looked away in anger. “I don’t have a fucking whore house!”

             
“Then why’d he call me a slut?”

             
“Well you’re in this fucking motel for one thing, and you probably look the part with your fucking tight ass clothes–”

             
“I hate you!”

             
“You don’t hate me!”

             
“I do. I hate you so fucking much!”

             
“Yeah, whatever. Hate me and blame me, you really haven’t changed much at all. Typical angry Sara--”

             
“I think I have the right to be a little fucking angry right now--”

             
“Always so fucking eager to blame everyone around her instead of taking one ounce of fucking blame--”

             
We continued screeching obscenities, talking over one another until we were red and seething. Tears fell from my eyes at the wicked things he was saying repeatedly, always going for the low blow.

“Angry, violent and fucking bitchy as before!
Hell, ten times worse, too! Why the fuck did I even bother coming back? Should have just left you with that rancid fuck--””

             
“Would you just stop being mean to me?!” I was sobbing uncontrollably now, burying my face into my knees. His words… Did he really regret saving me? Was that how far his hatred for me went? My body finally reacted to what had just happened – the near rape that might have ended my life. My muscles all over my body were sore from the nonstop shaking. It was harder to breathe all of a sudden. I thought I might pass out.

             
The last thing I wanted on top of it all was to be cussed out by him, to hear his anger seep out of him, to hear just how much he no longer cared for me. It was all too much.

             
The mattress beside me sank down. I smelled him before I felt him, that musky Jaxon smell that was impossible to forget. He rested his back against the headboard and then an arm went around my shoulder, tugging me to his side. “Just breathe,” he said, in the gentlest tone I’d almost believed he was incapable of. “You’re safe with me here. No one’s going to ever touch you again.”

             
I fully sank into his side, letting him support me with his arm as I wept. He moved away for a moment. “My shirt’s bloody,” he explained as he took it off of him and threw it somewhere on the floor. He brought me to him again, and my face rested on the heat of his hard, bare chest. I wrapped an arm around his midsection, trying to hug him to me as tightly as possible as the panic continued to rise.

             
“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, running a hand through my messy hair.

             
After a long while, the tears dried and my breathing evened out. The fear was replaced by the safety of being in his arms like this and knowing that no one was going to hurt me again. I could hear the strong, steady beating of his heart, and it soothed me along with his fingers gently caressing the long strands of my hair. He was so nice and warm; it was like hugging a fire that couldn’t burn me.

             
“Thank you,” I let out in a tiny, hoarse voice.

             
“For what?” he asked, trailing his fingernails down my spine.

             
“For saving me.”

             
When he didn’t respond, I opened my eyes, blinking back from the bright light in the room. I let my eyes drift from his chest down to his abs, and then down to the buttons of his soaked jeans. My arm was still wrapped around his midsection, and I felt suddenly embarrassed for hugging him so hard. I was acting so pathetic and needy.

             
His chest was wet from my tears, and that made me even more embarrassed. I used the end of my sleeve to wipe away the tears on his chest, moving my face a little. Then I noticed the tattoo. A large one against the side of the chest I’d been leaning on. A few inches from my face I made out a tail, and as I followed my gaze up, I saw that it was a large scorpion in a defensive stance with its stingers opened wide, ending at his collar bone. It made me a little uneasy seeing it, and maybe it was because I’d preserved so well the memory of his body that seeing something different ruined that memory somehow. I think the majority of me felt a little concerned that he’d branded himself with something I’d never known he wanted to get. What was the reason behind it?

             
I looked up at him just as he looked down at me. He was still stern, but his eyes had softened remarkably, and when he looked into the depths of my own, I grasped that connection I thought we no longer had. It was there, so obviously thick between us, I only hoped he felt it too. I could hear his heart beat picking up against my ear, and I instantly knew he must have. I still had an effect on him, and I quite liked that.

             
But I couldn’t be entirely sure; maybe it was all just in my head… only I didn’t think so. I was terrified of rejection, but I needed to feel him. I trailed my hand up his chest, his neck, and rested it at his jaw, caressing my thumb against his cheek. I closed my eyes, unwilling to face that rejection in his eyes if it was there. My fear doubled when his arm stiffened at my spine. I went to pull my hand away, but he caught it and rested it back. I felt his chin on my forehead, and then the hot breath of his mouth against my face as he lowered it. For a long moment, he lingered by my lips. I cut the distance off with my own, brushing my lips against his. My breathing had completely stilled, and the euphoria of his touch sparked a heavy need in my core.

             
When his soft lips finally pressed mine, I seized the back of his neck tightly, keeping him to me in case he changed his mind. He tightened his arm around me too, kissing me with fierce intensity, holding nothing back. His lips may have been soft, but his kisses were hard, punishing even. There was anger behind them; in fact, now that I was firmly pressed against him, he wasn’t afraid to show me how angry he was. He rested me down completely on the mattress, sinking his upper body into me, pinning me down harshly beneath him. His tongue caressed my own, and then his teeth began biting at my lower lip. They weren’t soft nibbles, but sharp and unkind. He swallowed my painful moan with his mouth, dropping a hand down at my tights. Though they were drenched, he pulled them down effortlessly, throwing them aimlessly to the floor.

             
By the feel of his hot hand up my chilled leg, and the pressing of his mouth against mine, I’d completely lost any rational thought, willingly allowing him to guide my senses into a state of pure bliss. His hand dipped into the front of my underwear, and I gasped at the feel of his blunt fingertips caressing the wetness of my clit. To my dismay, he didn’t linger there long, and moved his hand out. He tore them off in record time before pulling my thin sweater up, unclipping my bra at the same time. Our kiss broke as he pulled it over my head, and then looked down at my breasts. I regarded him shyly, unsure of why his eyelids suddenly looked so heavy. He was staring at my body with way too much concentration than I could stand. I made an attempt to cover myself, but he pulled my hand away and pinned it over my head.

             
I watched him trail his tongue along his bottom lip, and then he hastily began unbuttoning his jeans. While he kicked them off, he brought his mouth back down to mine and ravaged me so hard my lips felt swollen. He let my hand go and tore my bra off, grabbing at my breasts with equal roughness. He wasn’t going to prolong this; there was too much heat, too much passion to stop and enjoy each other’s bodies. It’d been too long. I curled my legs around his hips, joyfully running my hands up and down his back. He spread my legs wide and, without warning, thrust inside of me. I inhaled sharply and he groaned deeply. I clutched him tightly with each leg pressed hard against his sides.

             
He moved fast, gripping my thigh in one hand and my face with the other. The thrusts were deep, hard, punishing. He was expelling all his pent up anger, pushing in as deeply as possible without allowing me a break to recover. I opened my mouth and let out a pained sound, but he swallowed it again with his mouth, grunting against me. He sounded primal and felt animalistic. Somewhere in the midst of it, there was a gradual build of pleasure underneath the pain, but the more he thrust like this inside of me, the harder it was to concentrate on that pleasure.

             
“Slow down,” I whimpered against his heavy breath.

             
“No,” he retorted, driving his tongue into my mouth.

             
I tried to use my legs to slow him down, pressing them as hard against his hips as possible, but it was futile. He overpowered me, and though it was painful, I didn’t want to tell him to stop. It felt too good being with him like this. When he brought his mouth back down to mine, I moved away from his kiss, and he let out an irritated grunt, gripping my hair firmly at the scalp to hold me in place. He leaned in to kiss me, but I grabbed at his lip and bit down hard. He hissed, staring at me with a mixture of anger and arousal in his face. It didn’t stop him from kissing me, though. He took my mouth again, cautiously this time, lapping his tongue against mine.

He t
asted so fucking good.

             
“Slow down,” I repeated in his mouth.

             
“Fuck no,” he groaned.

             
“You’re hurting me.”

             
“Good.” Why did I find that so fucking hot? I tugged hard on his wet hair like he was tugging mine, wanting him to feel what he was doing to me. Then I brought my hands under his arms and over his shoulder blades and pressed my fingertips into his back. I lost myself to the punishing rhythm of his thrusts, taking every bit of the aches he was giving me for the sake of being with him. He broke away from my mouth and trailed his tongue down my neck. I moaned when he nipped me with his teeth, and then sucked fiercely until my skin throbbed. The act had him slowing down, and abruptly I felt like he’d stripped my pleasure. Didn’t I want him to slow down? Confused, I grinded my hips into him, trying to bring him deeper inside of me. I liked the mixture of pain and pleasure; it was something I felt I needed.

             
“Faster,” I breathed.

             
He pressed his lips over mine and, to my horror, slowed down entirely, giving me shallow thrusts that put my pleasure at a frustrated stand still.

             
“Jaxon, please,” I begged in a state of delirious need.

             
“Did you miss this?” The random question had me opening my eyes to look at him. He was staring right into my eyes with a gritty, furious look.

             
“Yes,” I admitted, fighting the ache behind my eyes.

             
“Does my dick feel good buried inside of you?”

             
“Yes.”

             
“Better than
him
?”

             
His hard voice sent chills down my spine, yet lost in the arousal of the moment, I whimpered, “Yes.”

             
He thrust hard again, painfully digging his hand into my thigh while pulling my hair with the other. He buried his face in my neck, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he didn’t want me to see him. We’d always looked at each other while we made love.

A tear escaped just then at the realization this wasn’t us making love. It was impersonal – the roughness that became of Jaxon was all the more cemented
, even in sex.

             
My body betrayed my thoughts. It was aching for that release he’d started and was on the way of finishing. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I dug my nails into his back, muttering
yes, yes
over and over again… My breathing quickened, my groans became louder, and soon I clenched him as much as my strength would allow and felt the warmth of pleasure coat my body from head to toe. He followed after me, thrusting once, twice, and then stalling at his own release. He went limp, breathing hard against my neck. I could feel his heart beats through his chest, and when they eventually slowed down, he moved out of me and lay on his back beside me.

             
We were shoulder to shoulder, breathing in and out in silence. I didn’t know what I’d expected after this. Maybe I’d hoped, even for the briefest moment, I’d feel that connection again.