Page 2 of Legions

I nodded. “Yep. I am.”

A deep chuckle vibrated from his chest, and I sank against him with a contented purr.

“Here I was planning on going to my knees and kissing your abused ass, but you go and say shit that means I’m gonna have to fuck you,” he said with his eyes on my body as he caressed my boobs and lower stomach. “Bend over, little doll. Hands on the counter. Ass out.”

I licked my bottom lip and gave him a wicked grin. “My favorite kind of morning,” I replied, doing as he instructed.

The way his eyes brightened reminded me of a black flame. I wasn’t sure just how deep his darkness went, but I had seen the good. He wasn’t the evil monster he thought he was. A man with true evil couldn’t love someone the way he did me. The way he agonized over causing me any pain proved just how undemon-like he was.

His hands gripped my hips as he stared down at my butt. I watched as he leaned down to press a kiss on the slightly tender area left from his spanking. He brushed his lips over it several times, and then the tip of his tongue trailed over it, leaving a warm, wet streak that caused me to shiver.

When he straightened, his eyes lifted to meet mine in the mirror. At moments like this, his unhinged side slid out of his confines and stared at me through his gaze. It was close—the turning point. I waited, holding my breath with anticipation, watching for the flip that was coming.

There it was, and I sucked in a breath just as his hand shot out to grab a fistful of my hair, pulling my head back. His fingers from the other hand dug into the plumpness of my unharmed butt cheek. A long, deep growl came from him as he plunged into me, pushing my body forward with the force of it while he yanked tighter on the hold he had on my hair.

“FUUCK! It’s still slick from my cum last night,” he said through clenched teeth.

I cried out as the small, sharp pain from last night’s activities had left me sore. When he was like this, I didn’t have to worry he’d stop because he feared he was hurting me. He was too far gone to let that affect him. It also heightened the experience when I could watch his beautiful face so lost in pleasure. For a man who never looked vulnerable, in these moments, he did.

“You’re wincing.” His tone was raspy. “Sore from last night’s fucking.”

I met his hard thrusts, rocking back and forth in rhythm with him. “Yes,” I panted.

He let go of my bottom and slid his palm up my back. “This sweet little pussy should have been licked this morning, but you had to make me crazy. Now you’re gonna take my cock, little doll.”

I moaned, trying not to let my eyes flutter closed so that I didn’tmiss a moment. Our bodies connecting, the wet sounds of him moving in and out of my drenched hole, and the smell of sex surrounded us. I would never get enough of this. Of him.

“Such a good girl,” he praised. “That angelic face, sweet smile.” His eyes heated as a smirk formed on his lips. “Only I get the little slut. Just me. My perfect little slut craving my dick so bad she wants it even after I abused it.”

“Oh god,” I gasped. He knew hearing him call me his slut set me off. “Please, harder,” I begged, so very close now.

He let go of my hair, and his hand reached down to wrap around my neck. His movements became faster as his name tore from me.

“When I fill this cunt with my load, you’re not gonna shower. I want your panties after you’ve walked around all day sticky and wet.”

That was it. My body jerked beneath his, and I screamed as the pulsing bliss of my orgasm broke free.

“FUCK! GAH DAMN!” Thatcher shouted, not taking his eyes off me. Somehow, he drove even deeper as he chased his own release. His body shuddered, and his mouth fell open as he held my gaze. It was always in this moment that he was the most beautiful. Completely exposed and unguarded. I’d been raised to think that loving anyone or anything too much made it an idol. If that were true, then Thatcher Shephard was mine.

• Two •

I’d been living in blissful ignorance.

Capri

The stables were busy when we arrived. Thatcher wanted me to take out Bloodline this morning to see if I could shave off time from what Carmen, the other jockey Shephard’s Stables, used, was clocking. Shortly after arriving, Thatcher had been called to his father’s office. While I waited on him, I made my rounds visiting with the thoroughbreds, spoke with Miller, the lead trainer at Shephard Stables, and went out to watch our newest exercise rider take Pharaoh around the track. When Thatcher still hadn’t returned, I decided to make my way out to speak with the new rider.

I hadn’t met him yet officially. I’d only seen him from a distance. When Christopher, the best exercise rider they had, left for another job, they didn’t hire anyone right away to take his place. I kind of thought they were waiting for him to return, but after a couple of months, he hadn’t, and someone else had finallybeen hired to take his place. Sebastian had seemed happy about the new guy when I’d spoken to him at Maeme’s during Sunday brunch. Thatcher had said little about him but that was typical. Unlike his younger brother, he was a harsher critic.

From listening to Miller discuss him, I knew his name was Rog, and he’d retired from races three years ago after a leg injury. I had expected him to be older. When I saw how young he was, I felt bad for him. His career had been cut short. He couldn’t be more than thirty.

“Hello,” I said, smiling with my greeting. “We haven’t met, and I wanted to come out and introduce myself.”

The guy’s grin was instant. “No, we have not. I’d remember a face like yours,” he said, holding out his hand and stepping closer than necessary.

I started to reach out to shake his hand when Miller shouted his name, causing his head to swing around toward the sound. Looking over his shoulder, I saw Miller walking at a faster than usual pace toward us with a stern expression on his face. What had the new guy done to piss him off?

Rog glanced back at me with a shrug and a crooked grin. “Didn’t know he got testy.” He joked.

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