Page 72 of The Fire Went Wild

“I’m not a fucking Hunter!” I scream, thrashing beneath him. “I’m human!”

Jaxon raises an eyebrow and releases my hands and I swing at him without thinking. My palm makes contact with his face, and the force of the strike vibrates down my arm. Jaxon jerks his head sideways, then tilts his gaze back to me, his cheek red.

“Again.” His eyes blaze with a fire that frightens me. Arouses me.

I shouldn’t, but I give him exactly what he wants, striking him hard on the other cheek. This time, I use all that strange and unfamiliar strength, and Jaxon groans when I strike him, dry-humping me like a teenager.

“Again,” he roars, and I set upon him with all my fear and fury, a maelstrom of violence I can’t even begin to understand. He fights back just enough to roll us both off the table, and I don’t crash against the floor like I expect but somehow land deftly on my feet, crouched, hands up.

“How the fuck?” I choke out, staring at him over my burning hands. His face is red from my slaps. A trickle of blood runs out of his nose. Did I do that to him?

I want to taste it, his blood.

I throw myself at him, slamming him so hard against the wall that the deer’s head falls beside us with a thunderous clatter. He pulls me into him, rolling his hard cock into my thigh, and I sink my teeth into his pulsing neck, biting down until his skin bursts and salty, hot blood flows across my tongue.

I groan, rubbing my lips in it, swallowing some of the drops.

Jaxon groans, too, although his groans stretch out into words of praise: “That’s it, my little Hunter. Taste your prey. Just like that.”

I want to be furious with him. I want to hate him. Instead, I’m kissing him with my bloody lips, smearing his blood across his face until I find his mouth. Then I make him taste himself.

He returns the kiss with a terrifying fire, his mouth hot and angry and devouring. I’m distantly aware that my hips are thrusting against him, trying to fuck him again. Distantly aware that I’m on the verge of coming with the taste of his blood on my tongue.

He wrenches away from me to break the kiss, then flings me around like a rag doll. Throws me up against the table, its edge digging into my belly.

“Fuck me,” I shriek.

No. No, I meant to sayfuck you.

Didn’t I?

Jaxon yanks on my pants, dragging them off my leg one by one. Then he does the same with my underwear. As soon as the cool air of his house kisses my soaked pussy, I moan and wriggle my ass back toward him.

He slaps it, hard.

“Be still.” I hear the zip of his flying coming down. The rustle of his clothes. Then he braces one hand on my lower spine and the other around the back of my neck, pressing me down hard on the table. I fight against him, bucking up against his grip.

But as strong as I feel, he’s stronger.

“I think I want to win this fight, little Hunter,” he says, right before he thrusts his cock into my pussy.

I’ve never been so happy to lose.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

JAXON

Fighting Charlotte got me hard as hell, and every time I thrust into her tight, clenching pussy, it’s like I’m fighting her again. I pin her against the table, reminding her that I’m the older Hunter. The stronger Hunter. But when she wriggles around to look at me over her shoulder, I let her.

I want to see the blazing lust in her eyes. I want to see my blood smeared across her lips.

She fucks me like she’s still fighting me, stretching her arms across the table to grab onto the other side and give herself leverage to shove herself on my dick.

“I’m not a Hunter,” she snarls.

“Keep telling yourself that.” I drag her backward across the table so I can reach down and thumb her clit. Her pussy feels as intoxicating as ever, but the soft swell of her ass against my lower belly makes me want to explore previously unknown territory. “You sure as hell fuck like one.”

She snarls at me and thrusts backward as if answering my accusation with proof. I work her clit as fast as I can, her arousal drenching my fingers. I need her as wet as possible if I’m going to find out what her asshole feels like.

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