Page 23 of Twisted

Their eyes still locked, he thrust faster, and she responded instantly, gasping, bucking her hips against his hand and tongue, and before she could cry out, she clenched down around him and began to shake with the force of her climax. A strangled, primal cry escaped her lips, and she reached down, knotting her fingers willingly into his hair, keeping his face planted as she rode out her waves of pleasure. He grinned like a ravenous wolf into her pussy, for it was the first time she’d touched him of her own volition.

When he could feel her calming, he slowly withdrew his fingers, and she blinked in shock, releasing his hair with a look of utter disbelief. Just to push her a little further over the edge of insanity, he brought his two long fingers to his lips, watching those glaciers in her eyes melt into pools of hot springs as he pushed them between his lips and swirled his tongue around them, committing her taste to memory.

Her ruby lips parted at this possessive, erotic display, and he could feel her legs tremble, the foot on his thigh a miniature seismograph, the aftershocks of her orgasm still pulsing through her. Pushing her leg off his, he stood in one fluid motion, a king towering over his queen. He could worship her—wouldworship her every day—but only after she helped him clean this mess up. Only after his sister was safe, free.

He reached up, snaking his hand around to the back of her neck in a show of just how possessive he was going to be from that moment on. Slow, she raised her teary eyes to his, her plush lips trembling. She was clearly still afraid, still hurt and confused and likely feeling used, though that hadn’t been Jaeger’s intent in the slightest. He would ensure she understood that, starting now.

“You mine, baby doll?” he rumbled, the grip on the back of her neck tightening as he glowered down at her.

In that instant, her eyes once more iced over, turning dead with how cold and blank they went.Ahh, he thought. She didn’t like being claimed. Carter’d likely been possessive in a way that promised pain and psychological torture. Jaeger was possessive in a much simpler way; the way an alpha protects his pack, the way a real man protects his woman when she needs to be. He leaned in, intent on making his point clear.

“You best answer me, Maisie. You mine?”

Angry, she pinched her face in fury—the likes of which startled Jaeger. He hadn’t expected her to be so hateful, but it made perfect sense. She was like barbed wire in that way.

“I ain’t yours,” she hissed. “I ain’t anybody’s.”

He felt the dark smirk curl onto his lips, saw the flicker of fear in her dead eyes.

“You’ll learn the hard way, then, baby doll.”

With a widening of her eyes, he bent at his knees and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She cried out and kicked and punched at him. With a chuckle, he reached up and smacked her ass hard enough it sounded like a lightning strike. She stilled with a whimper, sagging in exhaustion and defeat over his broad shoulder.

She would learn, alright. She’d give him the answers he sought, whether in a quiet, strained whisper of admission, or through screams of pain. He would get what he wanted.

He always did.

8

Maisie

Present Day

She ached. From her toes to the pounding in her head. Her wrists—cuffed once more—were beginning to bruise, were raw from the roughness of this mysterious Jaeger. Almost as raw as her throbbing sex. Her eyes watered, her teeth gnashed together, and her eyes flicked up to him. She was chained around a support beam in his ramshackle, begrudgingly cozy cabin high up in the Smokies.

He was in the kitchen, still no shirt, completely ignoring her as he moved with ease and grace about the tiny space. She craned her neck to see around the bar portion of the counter, hugging the smooth, circular lodgepole, trying to catch a better glimpse at what he was doing, but it was useless. She sagged back down with a huff, trying to keep her knees together. She had no clothing, other than his t-shirt—his soft shirt that smelled like sandalwood and leather and a warm summer night. It made her insides clench, her eyes shutter.

He’d been so rough with her—rougher than any man she’d ever taken before. But it had somehow made her body sing, it had called up that darkness deep within her soul, and she’d leaned into it with savage abandon. The pain throbbing between her legs was an arousing reminder of the pleasure that had been born from it. She supposed that was life, in a way; you couldn’t hope to have anything pleasurable without a substantial amount of pain first.

The most troubling part had been afterward, how her emotions and past had swallowed her whole and forced her to relive all her worst moments. He’d known the first time she’d slipped into the past while pinned against the tree, and he’d known again as soon as she’d sagged in the ashes. Instead of yelling at her, gas-lighting, spinning it all around to point the blame back on her, he’d remained silent, had coaxed another mind-blowing climax from her—and he’d been gentle.

That, above all, was what continued to keep her soaked, even now that it was over—at least for the time being.

Jaeger’s heavy boots stomped across the wooden floor, and she sniffed, stowing her dark, tangled thoughts back where they resided, deep in her heart. She kept her face down, but she could still see the tips of his black steel-toed boots. Her heart raced with dread and anticipation. He crouched before her, reaching out to cup her chin and force her eyes up. In his other hand was a bottle of water, and her sandpapery tongue turned to ash in her mouth at the sight.

Without being cruel, he held the bottle out to her lips, tilting it back as she guzzled it greedily. He pulled it away as she gasped, leaning forward, silently pleading for more. He didn’t move, though. Her eyes found his, hard and cold, that green so striking she was certain no one else on earth had it. And with his hair pulled back, his sculpted chest on display covered in dark ink, his chiseled cheekbones and jaw—her heart beat into her cunt, and a different ache took root. One of dark desires.

She silently wanted him again—in any way he chose to give it to her. Carter’d never made her come. If anything, she was his live sex doll, nothing more than a vessel to masturbate into every once in a while—when he wasn’t getting it from Lindsay or some other whore. He was inept, fumbling, twitchy and fidgety. She’d always cooed to him, telling him it was alright, that it wasn’t his fault. Had she known then the kind of monster he truly was, she would have never fed his ego in such a way. Nothing was ever his fault in his twisted mind.

“You gonna work with me, Maisie Jane?”

She grit her teeth, pursing her lips. This again. She wanted to roll her eyes, wanted to play with the fire in his soul. Hell no, she wasn’t going to work with him. But at least she would die sated, knowing Carter and Randy were in hell, knowing Lindsay was about to be someone’s bitch in prison, and with the afterglow still thrumming through her from the most passionate, rough, raw, and mind blowing sex she’d ever had. She could greet death with a smile now.

Jaeger’s eyes flickered. He could tell she didn’t care, and that made her happy. He had nothing to hold over her anymore. She wasn’t afraid of even death. He’d have to find another angle, but she knew he wouldn’t—

“How’s Marie? Their kids?”

Fuck.

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