Page 36 of Jersey

Justsitting idly by and watching other people circle and touch her after what happened between us is impossible. I need to get a closer look to see that she's getting exactly what she came for from these people.

As I approach, my thoughts turn sinister. Did this man follow her home one night? I've seen him around her before. Did she bend over and take his cock so easily as she did mine?

My hands clench into fists as I shorten the distance to the cross, angrier at myself for letting any of it affect me in the first place, but then I see her face.

I take in her clenched fists and the rigidity of her body as the man runs his finger over the tip of her soft nipple.

She hates it. She doesn't want this man touching her at all.

It makes no sense. She's up there for a reason. She has come here and allowed herself to be tied up over and over. Why is she not enjoying the attention she's getting?

Instead of asking him to take a step back or getting the attendant's attention to remove the man she clearly doesn't want near her, she just endures. It's like watching a torture session where the victim has been beaten down so much they no longer respond to pain stimuli.

Only she isn't immune, I realize, as a single tear rolls down her cheek.

"My turn," I tell the man, my words more of a growl.

The man turns to look at me but doesn't make any effort to step back.

"Ask him to leave," I say to Caitlyn. After a brief look in my direction, she once again casts her gaze across the room, effectively ignoring me.

The man, brazen with her open rejection of me, chuckles, and the sound claws at my skin. I'm certain it’s enough to leave open wounds. I step closer to him, ready to deal him his own dose of pain.

"Please step back."

I turn toward the female voice, recognizing the same attendant who has been helping Caitlyn on the cross since the latest owner took over.

I obey, but the other man runs his hand along her back one last time, an action that seems to go unwitnessed by the attendant.

The man walks away as if no longer being able to touch her ruins it all for him.

I watch, waiting for her to acknowledge me, but after she's down and her robe wrapped around her, she simply gives me one look over her shoulder before walking away.

Instead of storming off and getting lost in my thoughts, something that used to be very uncommon for me before I met her, I simply wave to Lark to let him know I'm leaving. He’d decided to drive tonight after I left him here to figure out his own way back to the cabin the last time.

I step outside and make my way into the shadows. I need to talk to her. I need to see if I can find reasoning or some level of understanding as to why she affects me the way she does. As someone who has had control of their life for years, her being able to show up and change things for me makes no sense.

I've laid my eyes on many women in my line of work, and not once have I found myself incapable of walking away.

Caitlyn's level of nonchalant control over my every thought is enough to drive me mad, and I need to end it.

When the side door of the club opens, my heart skips at the sight of her, making me realize very quickly that this endeavor is going to be much more difficult than I originally thought it would. I know it's going to take more than simply demanding certain actions of my body and mind to clear her from them, and that only confuses me more.

I've had no problems walking away from anything in recent years. Hell, I walked away from ICE after ten years of service with only a simple five-minute conversation with Kincaid, the president of the original chapter of Cerberus.

Before I can make myself known, I see the guy who refused to walk away from her earlier step out of the shadows on the other side of the parking lot. He has been out here longer, and I have no doubt he saw me leave the club.

Does he have any idea I haven't left? Does he know I'm here watching?

What would he do to her with me here?

Jesus... what would he do if he thinks he's alone with her?

I decide to let things play out. Maybe her involvement with another man would be exactly what I need to witness in order to break whatever spell she seems to have over me.

I force my legs to lock in place as I watch, the analytical part of my brain seeing the difference in how she looks at him versus how she looked at me when she saw me standing on her porch last week. There's a vast distinction, and I know she isn't happy to see him. I have no clue if they've had any interaction outside of the club before, but it's clear she doesn't want to speak with him now.

I move, making my way across the parking lot, picking up my speed when the man wraps his fucking hand around her upper arm, making her wince in pain.

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