Page 43 of Demon

“Very much so.” His gaze never wavers, and I believe him. Jett isn’t one to lie.

“What about the intruders in my home? That wasn’t club business.”

“No. That was personal.”

My breath catches. “You killed them too?”

“I did,” he says without hesitation.

I stare at him in silence as he starts the truck. My mind drifts. He saved me just in time before those men could do worse. He kept me safe in a way no one else could.

The drive is quiet until we hit the dirt road leading to the clubhouse. My thoughts churn, and I can’t take it anymore. “Stop the truck,” I blurt out, my voice louder than I intended.

He pulls over, the tires crunching on loose gravel. My heart thunders as I struggle with my seatbelt and climb over onto his lap, straddling him, my legs stretched out wide over his thighs. His stormy hazel eyes lock on to mine, unreadable and intense.

I’m not sure if he’s even breathing at this point, but I place my hand over his heart. It’s thundering against my palm. My fingers find their way to the back of his head, pulling him closer. I wait one second... two seconds. He doesn’t pull away. “Touch me,” I whisper desperately as the hunger for him intensifies. I don’t give a shit about my dignity. I’m out of my mind, salivating for him. There’s a throbbing wetness between my thighs to prove it.

At first I think he’s going to deny me. His jaw twitches, but his eyes are heated. “You’re trembling. Are you scared of me?”

“No,” I answer honestly, hoping he can hear the truth behind my words because I’m not scared of him—I’m trembling because my body aches for him. I tell myself to relax and enjoy this time with him. It might be the only time he lets me touch him.

He leisurely glides a hand down my side, his grip firm, harsh, sending heat pouring through me. Hope surges low in my belly. He’s slowly unraveling. I lean up and press my lips to his, and he jerks me closer until my breasts are against his chest and I’m spread against the erection in his jeans.

And ever so slowly, painfully slowly, he opens his mouth to me and his tongue slides against mine. Tenderly at first, but the long licks quickly spiral into a passionate kiss with just the right amount of aggression to wildly turn me on. My nails dig into his head as I pull him closer to deepen the kiss. He moans loudly.

He nibbles on my lower lip, the pressure teetering on the edge of pain before he pulls back. When his hand cups my breasts, kneading them with rhythmic, firm squeezes, my head falls back as I gasp, his touch igniting a fierce lust inside me. He presses his lips against my racing pulse and leaves open-mouthed kisses along my throat. I’m panting, my skin flushed and feverish, more aroused than I’ve ever been, and we haven’t even gone all the way yet.

My mouth finds his, eager and demanding, as the bulge of his cock presses against my pants. I surrender completely to the hurricane of sensations until he breaks the kiss, his chest heaving, and grabs my wrists from behind his head, shoving them in front of me. Without a word, he picks me up and pushes me back onto the passenger seat. Both of us are gasping for air. The intensity crackles between us.

Then, Jett flings the door open. The sudden jolt startles me, and my stomach knots with tension. Did I push him too far? He strides around to my side of the truck, yanks the door open, and leans in to grab my hips and pull me out. I yelp, caught off guard. My feet barely touch the ground before he spins me around so he’s behind me and I’m flush against the truck.

“Take your pants off,” he grits out like this is painful for him.

That commanding tone sends a surge of heat through me, but I fumble with the button on my pants, excitement and nerves erupting into a chaotic energy, making me slightly clumsy. The sound of his zipper lowering burns itself into my brain, and before I can pull my thong down, I hear the sharp rip of fabric. My breath hitches as the broken thong slips down to my pants.

I ache everywhere—for his touch, for his kisses—but I’ve surrendered my control to him, and that’s exactly what I want. I need him. Desperately. The only thing I can focus on is the feral desire to feel him inside me, to take in every ounce of his power and dominance.

I push my hips out, trembling with anticipation as I feel the head of Jett’s cock line up with me. Then, in one swift motion, he thrusts deep, rough and insistent. My back arches violently, and stars flicker across my vision. The initial shock of pain quickly morphs into a dizzying wave of pleasure that consumes me entirely.

“Fuck,” he grounds out between clenched teeth, his voice raw and primal.

He doesn’t give me a moment to adjust, driving into me relentlessly, my body pinned helplessly between him and the unyielding metal. My sharp breaths spill out in rapid bursts as he takes over, his hands gripping my hips with a force that promises bruises. Fingers tangle in my damp hair, tugging hard, sending sparks through me as he loses himself completely.

He’s wild and out of control. “Jett!” I cry out, my voice cracking as his relentless rhythm pushes me to the edge of sanity. His growls are guttural, primal, each thrust pushing me deeper into a storm of sensation. The heat, the friction, the sheer intensity of it all leave me trembling, my body overwhelmed, my will undone.

He jerks violently, his rhythm stuttering as a loud, hoarse groan escapes him. Heat surges through me as he comes, filling me completely, his final thrusts slowing to a stop before he pulls out of me in a rush, leaving me breathless and unsteady.

“Wow,” I whisper, dazed and drunk on the high of giving myself over to him. My thighs are slick, his release still dripping down, a stark reminder of the rawness of our connection. Panic flashes through me as the realization hits me. No condom. Fuck.

The sound of his boots crunching the gravel fades as he moves away, leaving me to hurriedly pull up my pants with shaky, uncoordinated movements. My legs are trembling as I climb back into the truck, my mind racing.

When he starts the engine, I steal a glance at him, craving the intimacy we just shared. But it’s gone. It vanishes in an instant as his expression hardens, his gaze fixed coldly on the road ahead. He’s not Jett anymore. He’s Demon again, his icy persona closing the door to whatever we just shared, and the silence between us is suffocating.

By the time we reach the clubhouse, I focus on Sammy to distract myself from the sting of his coldness. He keeps his distance, and the gap between us feels insurmountable. After a quick shower, Sammy and I crawl into bed, and exhaustion swallows me whole. Between work and Jett, I’m spent, physically and mentally. Sleep claims me within moments, but my subconscious lingers, tangled in the chaos Jett left behind.

FOURTEEN

DUEL POV – HE’S NOT THE MONSTER IN MY STORY

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