Page 46 of Spitfire

What kind of man does that to the woman they're infatuated with? That thought brings me to a pause; is that all it is between me and her, infatuation? It feels like that word is not strong enough to describe the overwhelming feelings I have for Scarlett Lyssa. No, I'm way past infatuation. I would dare say even long past obsession. Scarlett has made a home deep under my skin, a place no woman has ever occupied. This is not only about attraction or even sex. I can't seem to take a breath without her anymore. It's like she's rewired my brain chemistry, and everything that used to be a priority now pales in the face of my need for her.

I turn the knob and quietly creep into the darkened room, not willing to wake her just yet if she is still sleeping. My gaze trails over the shadows, confirming everything seems the same as when I left. I make my way over to her bed, and am instantly brought to a halt. Instead of finding her delectable, warm body encased in the sheets and blankets, they're tangled and messily thrown back, and the bed is empty. What the fuck?

I quickly turn on the table lamp and look around, only silence and the rushing of my blood in my ears greeting me. My glance makes its way to the partially closed bathroom door. I shove it open all the way, fear riding me that maybe she's lying sick on the floor, but only the empty space greets me, sunlight streaming through the frosted window above the toilet. My hurried gaze makes quick work of inventorying the scene, and I notice contents spilled on the floor and left discarded. The area rug is bunched up as if it's been pushed aside, and the toilet seat is up, the faint sour smell of vomit permeating the air. Shit.

"Where the fuck is she?" I whisper, as I race out of the room and search the rest of her small house, but I can't find her or her purse. I pull out my phone and quickly log into the app I hid on her phone earlier while she slept. There was no fucking way I was letting her go missing again without knowing where she was, especially with Ashmaker still out on the loose.

Yeah, sure, it was because of Ashmaker, and not the malevolent rage you felt at her sleeping with Xavier, my mind calls me out instantly on my bullshit. It doesn't matter; it was for her own good, and thank fuck too, because now it will come in handy, without me having to use bureau resources to track her. Do I feel even the slightest bit guilty using these underhanded tactics with her? Not even in the slightest.

The little blue dot glares back at me steadily from my screen, the position located somewhere close to the industrial area of town. What the hell is she doing out there all alone? Then it hits me, maybe she's not alone. She's either working an angle on our case, and didn't bother to contact me, or she's with him.

When I had Douglas previously provide me with Xavier Poine's address, I ran into a snag when I made my way to the location, after finding her abandoned purse at the restaurant, ready to beat his ass. An empty, fenced construction lot for a high-rise in progress greeted me. Nothing else was listed anywhere, not on his driver's license, tax returns, or even on his employment records. I made poor Douglas tear them apart to look, leaving no stone unturned. The man's current residence couldn't be found anywhere. Could this be where that snake lives? If it is, why would Scarlett go back there after what he did to her?

My hand tightens on the phone, a wall of heat-filled wrath washing over me. None of this is making sense. She was covered in his fucking marks, and despite stating she consented, I don't completely buy that shit. Yes, Scarlett seems to enjoy a little pain and depravity with sex, but the condition she was in, that was something else. There was barely an inch on her body that wasn't tainted by him.

She also knows that he could ultimately ruin her career. Could that be what's driving her back to him? Maybe she's worried he'll do just that, but if that were the case, why wouldn't she just talk to me about it? Together we could have figured out a way to ensure he kept his mouth shut.

I slam the door shut behind me and head to my car, ready to find my girl. I don't care what it takes, but I'm determined to keep her away from him. Fuck, this day has been total shit. All I wanted to do was crawl back into bed, wrap my arms around her, and lose myself in Scarlett, after having to deal with the new crispy body Ashmaker left for us. Her sweet moans have been whispering in my head all day, a temptation that I wanted nothing more than to give myself over to.

Instead, my girl is missing, and I'm having to chase her halfway across the city. She might be with a man who has a hold on her I don't understand. How far am I willing to take this? I question myself, while the blue dot remains firmly in place on the screen as I speed down her street.

I release a pent-up growl of frustration. I should be focused on this case and catching this maniac, but instead, I'm playing an outraged boyfriend to a woman I'm not even sure truly wants me the way I want her. I slam my hands on the steering wheel at the next red light, fighting with myself on whether to continue forward and find her, or cut my losses and walk away.

I can't let her go. The answer sucker-punches me straight in the middle of the chest, trapping my breath in the process. I never thought I would be one of those men who becomes completely obsessed with a woman. Yet, here I am, quickly losing my mind over her, and doing things thoroughly out of character, like breaking into her house, tracking her phone, and chasing her through the city. Fuck, I'm becoming everything I've always sworn to hate.

I drag my fingers through my dark hair, knowing I'm at a crossroads in my life. One winding road leads straight to madness, with Scarlett Lyssa right at the center of it, and a huge drop that might leave me broken or dead at the end of it. The other path takes me away from her, and I keep going the way I always have: one-night stands, encounters with women who mean nothing to me, with my career as my focus.

I don't hesitate any further, heading straight for the blue dot, knowing there's no turning back now. It's Scarlett or nothing.

THIRTY-FIVE

SCARLETT

The hot water pelts down from the rainfall showerhead, and the wall jets, on my exhausted body, as Xavier's wide, muscular chest leans flush against my back. His hands run along the surface of my abdomen, painting the most exquisite, sensual shapes that have me moaning as I lean my head against his shoulder. "Are you sore, Spitfire?” His voice rumbles next to my ear, and causes goosebumps to break out along my skin, despite the heat in the shower stall.

My core clenches as his fingers temptingly skate over my swollen pussy lips. "Does it really matter if I am? It won't stop you." I feel his naughty grin pressed against the side of my head in answer. We've been fucking for what seems like endless hours. He's taken me in so many positions all over his loft, and filled all my holes until I was bursting with his cum, and we were a sticky, sweaty mess. That's how we ended up in the shower together, a reprieve I thought, but based on how his thumb is stroking my clit, I guess not.

"How's your throat?" He questions, and I can hear how he's struggling to stifle his laugh as I smack his arm with amusement. The savage deep-throated me over and over until I almost passed out, and my voice still sounds croaky. He kisses the corner of my eye, one hand sliding upwards to cradle and play with my abused, swollen nipples, the other's fingers parting my pussy lips, a digit stroking over my entrance, before it slips inside and thrusts leisurely. His hard cock presses against my lower back, as he begins nibbling where my neck meets my collarbone. "Do you want me to stop?"

His question amuses me. I think we both know, if I said no, I would be lying. My wetness coating his finger confirms that, as does the stirring of an orgasm already rising within me. Either way, the point is moot. I don't have the desire to say no to him at this point. I can't seem to get my fill of him anymore than he can of me. I rise on the tips of my toes and thrust my ass against his straining cock, and he pushes forward, the hard, velvety flesh nestling between my asscheeks. He pulls back and thrusts, eliciting a moan from my lips, before sliding inside of me and burying himself to the hilt. "Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around my cock, Spitfire."

Words seem to escape my overstimulated mind, and all I can do is whimper as he pushes me forward against the tiled wall, bends me over, and presses the side of my face flat against the slick tiles with his ruthless, demanding hold on my hair, as he pounds inside of my pussy like a man possessed. My hands rise, digging into the tile for purchase that doesn't exist, as our skin slaps harshly, fighting for dominance over the sound of the water. There's never any gentleness with Xavier. I'm not sure if he's even capable of it. It's as if there's an urgent need bursting within him to fill every part of me, to taint me with himself so that I'm forever changed, forever marked as his.

We are in our own heated cocoon, the water adding another element to our hedonism, and I'm lost to all the sensations as my orgasm begins to rise across my limbs, my eyes lower to half-mast, my legs trembling, and my mouth widening on a scream, as water chokes me. "That's it, baby, strangle and milk my cock," he groans.

One second he's inside of me, and I'm getting ready to explode. The next, the glass door is slamming open and shattering, and he's being ripped away from me, just as my orgasm begins to crest. My eyes almost bug out of my skull as I watch a large, clothed arm wrap around Xavier's neck and yank him out of the shower, as he slips and slides to keep his feet. A scream tears from my lips, as I turn around and try to grab him, but it's too late. He's fighting off his attacker, who's grappling with him, both of them now on the floor.

Items crash and break around them as they exchange heavy blows, Xavier's naked, wet form struggling, and for a moment my brain can't rationalize who his attacker is, and then I realize with panic that it's a furious Jasper. "JASPER! OH MY GOD! STOP!"

Blow after blow is exchanged, blood being smeared across their flesh, as neither of them hesitates in attempting to demolish the other. I try to push my way between them to stop them, but one of them shoves me hard out of the way, and I end up falling and slamming into what's left of the shattered shower door. The sharp shards cut through my wet skin with blinding pain, and I watch, almost in a daze, as droplets of ruby red blood slide down my arms and side.

"I FUCKING WARNED YOU, CUNT! I TOLD YOU WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF YOU TOUCHED HER AGAIN!" Jasper shouts, a manic look on his face, as he wraps his hands around Xavier's throat, and attempts to choke the life out of him.

"Jasper!" I force myself to take a step forward, more glass piercing the soles of my bare feet from the chaos around us. A chill settles over my body as neither one listens to me, and they continue to fight like two aggressive gorillas. "PLEASE STOP!"

"She's mine! You think you can come in here and try to take her from me?" Xavier snarls as he manages to break Jasper's hold, and thrusts his fist in his face, once, twice, three times, as blood pours from Jasper's mouth.

Jasper spits blood at Xavier's eyes, momentarily blinding him, and he stumbles back, swiping at his face. Both men are breathing harshly, their bodies radiating with rage.