Page 60 of Reclaimed

She purses her lips together, that defiant spark in her eyes burning bright.

I work my jaw and spit, a glob of saliva landing on her cheeks as I repeat myself. “I said, open.”

She cracks her mouth in the slightest, like that’s going to defer me.

I like it when they bite.

I buck my hips forward, the hoop at my tip clinking against her teeth as I press into her mouth. The sting of her teeth scrapes over the smooth skin, sending a pulse right to my balls, and I grip the sides of her head, jerking it off the table as I slam into her throat.

She screams around me, spit gurgling from the corners of her mouth as her hands slap my forearms, nails digging in and raking against my skin as I pull out and slam in again.

“Fuck,” I growl as her throat flutters around me. “If your throat’s this tight, I’m going to rip that fucking cunt in half.”

She gurgles and chokes, her tongue fighting my length with every thrust as I force myself deeper, until I can feel her soft lips flush at my base. Her neck curves below me, and I swear I can see my piercing and the outline of my shaft through the thin skin at her throat.

What a perfect fucking sight.

Her lips tinge blue, fingernails clawing at my forearms. I pull out and let her go, her head thunking against the table as she drops back, coughing and sputtering for air. Tears stream down her cheeks, snot and spit stringing over her red face.

My hands grip her biceps and I drag her up like a rag doll, banding an arm around her waist before pivoting on a heel and shoving her onto the leather sectional behind me. I fold her forward over the back of the sofa, rucking up the hem of her shirt to reveal that plump ass, then tearing it off over her head. Her head drops lazily against the top of the cushion, lolling to the side as she pants heavily. Her lashes flutter, eyes peering up at me while I kneel on the couch behind her, fisting my cock and lining up with her entrance. Pressing my cock against her slit, I rock forward, dragging it through her wetness. The little stray is fucking drenched, a needy whine slipping from her throat. It’s all the invitation I need to rut into her like a savage, lining up and shoving in deep. A feral scream tears from her, raw and unholy, like something wicked’s being violently ripped from her soul.

I grab onto her ass cheeks, spreading them wide so I can see the way her tight cunt strangles my cock. Her inner walls pulse frantically around me as I pull back inch by tortuous inch, squeezing around me like she doesn’t want to let go. I only make it halfway before driving back in, wetness already leaking down her thighs.

So she is a fucking squirter.

I blanket my body over hers, one hand palming her breast as the other moves to her swollen clit. I rub tight circles around it, her body trembling violently beneath me as her mouth hinges open, breaths heaving from between whimpers and moans. Spit trails from her lips and onto the leather, eyes blitzed out as a familiar sensation hums to life at the base of my spine.

I feel another gush of liquid leaking down her thighs and onto mine as she arches her back, hands reaching for me. Her nails pierce into my skin as she moans, and that has my balls seizing, spilling hot ropes of cum inside her.

“Good fucking girl, Jersey,” I growl, stroking a hand down the curve of her spine.

Her eyes flutter open, peering back at me. “Say it again,” she pants breathlessly.

“Good girl.”

“No,” she corrects, a sated smile curving her lips. “My name.”

24

JERSEY

A311

There’s an unfamiliar looseness in my limbs; a boneless comfort that lets consciousness seep back in lazily. And as my eyes work open, it’s not to Enforcers scowling and ripping me out of bed for another evaluation. It’s not to Harris fastening an ugly pink collar around my neck. For once, I wake up… peaceful.

I’m still in the cabin, but the bed’s different. This one’s bigger than the one I woke up in before, dressed in black sheets and an impossibly soft black duvet. Somehow, I know it’s his room, and waking up here feels a little too damn good.

I let out a contented sigh, my body melting against the mattress. I’ve been dressed in another one of Talon’s oversized t-shirts. My fingers drift down to the collar, pulling it up to my nose. Whiskey and smoke and a little citrus. It smells like him.

And yeah, I know full well how damn idiotic it is to find any fragmented sense of security in a monster that was literally hired to hunt me down and drag me back to The Registry kicking and screaming.

But he also hasn’t brought me back there this time.

And something deep inside me twists with a terrifying ache that feels a lot like hope. Pressure builds behind my ribs as heat creeps beneath my skin, shame following close behind. Because this shouldn't feel like winning. None of this should feel like winning.

I should feel disgust crawling through me; that sick, hollow feeling that overwhelmed my system after every time Commander Martin used me. I should want to scrub last night from my skin and disappear somewhere deep inside myself where I don’t have to think about it, because that’s how sex has always ended.

But not this time.