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He drops his ass back to the ground. “You’re a filthy girl, and I love it,” he whispers, his voice all gravel. “Give my come back to me. Drip it into my mouth.”
Before I can say no, he drags me up his body and positions me above his mouth again. His request doesn’t even bother me, though. Dripping his come directly into his waiting mouth is nothing in the broad scheme of things.
With his hands around my thighs and his eyes closed, he sticks out his tongue and waits for my gift. I bear down, and pearly strands of come drip into his waiting mouth. I figure he’ll swallow it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he flips me onto my back and smirks over me.
He doesn’t have to tell me what he wants me to do now.
I spread my lips, and he spits into my mouth. My come, his come, his saliva—I take all of it.
“Do you have a shred of dignity in your body, eighty? Is there anything I can’t do to you?”
I swallow. I’ve mastered my ability to seem like I’m enjoying everything and anything because that’s my job. And I’m fucking good at it. But he’s also met his match. Sexual deviant, meet sexual deviant. I can only hope it will save my life in the end. Why would he want to kill a woman who would let him do anything to her?
Anything.
My gaze is drawn to the tattoo across the side of his neck. Was it Tobin who got that “daddy” tattoo? The man from the bathroom didn’t seem like he’d want to be called daddy, but this man definitely seems the type. But if I’m thinking like this, does that mean I actually believe the shit he’s said? That there’s more than one of them? I’ve seen it in movies, but I didn’t think it was real. Could I really be trapped in the truck with three people instead of one?
And if I am, maybe Tobin isn’t the one I should be so afraid of.
Chapter Eleven
Jax
Tobin hands control to me on the walk through the woods. He’s not an aftercare kind of person, and we can’t let Kane out. He’ll kill her for what she did. I can only hope he’ll calm down before he takes control again. He knows killing her isn’t the right call, not when she can fetch so much money from The Nameless. But Kane also has very weak impulse control. We can only hold him back for so long, though.
We reach the truck, and I beeline for the sink as soon as we’re inside. Blood stains my shirt, my face, my hands, and because it’s drying, it’s a sticky mess. Using a stiff rag draped over the side of the sink, I begin to scrub.
Tobin loves blood, but it’s not a shared interest. I can’t wait to get it off my hands. I rub until every inch of my exposed skin is raw and red, being careful around the new cut Tobin has put on our body. It’s not very deep, but it still doesn’t feel great when the rag’s tough fibers scrape across it.
“You really aren’t Tobin, are you?” she asks as I continue my furious scrubbing.
I glance at her in the mirror. She’s seated on the bed, wringing her scraped hands in front of her. “I tried to tell you that. I’m really not Tobin.”
“And you aren’t Kane.”
“I’m none of them. I’m me. Jax.”
“But Kane’s the boss?”
I shake my head. “Not exactly. Kane is the main. He’s the one who was born in that physical body.”
“But you guys are your own people?”
I dry my face with a paper towel. “Yes, we’re different personality states sharing one body. We have our own strengths and weaknesses, likes and dislikes.”
“And do you like holding women captive, Jax?” she asks.
“Of course not. I don’t like anything about this situation. But Kane does, and I have an obligation to him. It’s nothing against you. We just have to protect ourselves.”
I wipe my hand down my face, and my gaze falls on her hands again. Some of the gouges on her palms look pretty filthy. They need to be cleaned and tended, and Kane and Tobin sure as fuck won’t bother with it.
I motion her over to the sink. “Wash your hands. You don’t want those cuts to get infected.”
She stands on shaky legs and approaches the sink, keeping her eyes on me the entire time. She still doubts what I’ve said, and how she doesn’t believe there are three of us is beyond me. We couldn’t be more different. Even when we’re boiled down to our base desires, we’re nothing alike. If I fuck, it’s soft and sweet. If Tobin fucks, it’s that bloody mess swirling down the drain. And Kane won’t fuck at all.
Now that her hands are cleaned of blood, I can see that the cuts aren’t too bad after all, which is good because we don’t exactly keep a first-aid kit in the truck. Kane isn’t in the business of healing wounds. He’d rather create them. I don’t know what she’ll do about the bloodstains between her legs, though. For tonight, I just have to make sure she’s tucked away in bed so we can actually get some rest. Sleep deprivation isn’t great for any of us.
Aurora doesn’t need help figuring out how to get clean, though. She rinses the rag I used, lifts her skirt, and begins scrubbing between her legs. I turn away.
