Page 75 of Bulletproof Love

“So full, baby. Fuck, you feel so good.” Our skin slaps together, the sound mixing with our shared moans. “I don’t deserve you. I’ll never deserve you.”

“Jasper,” she cries. Her tone softening. “Shut up and fuck your fist.”

As soon as my hand wraps around my dick, that’s it. Her cock destroys me while my hand strokes, and that’s all it takes for me to erupt like a goddamn volcano. “Slap my face, baby,” I beg. Hot ropes of cum paint my stomach. “Punch me.”

With her cock still buried deep, she open-palm slaps my face. “Never ever use again, you hear me?”

“Harder,” I cry. She makes a fist and punches me in the fucking nose. I hear the crunch before a blinding pain has me roaring out. “Again.”

“Fuck, Jasper!” She punches me again, leaning in so her cock hits me deep. I can barely take the fullness and the pain. It’s terrible. It’s exquisite.

I feel hot liquid slide down my face and lick my lips, tasting copper. “Yes, baby. Come here.”

She pulls out and I immediately miss the way she fills me up. I wrap her in my arms, kissing her, blood smearing across our faces, in our mouths, mixing with our salty tears.

“I’m sorry,” she cries, peppering kisses across my jawline.

I hold her face, staring into her gorgeous eyes. “No. You have nothing to be sorry about. You’re incredible. I don’t deserve you. I’ll never deserve you.”

I kiss her with every last ounce of strength I have left, holding her tight against my chest, until our breathing stills and heartbeats sync.

CHAPTERTHIRTY

FALIN

Days have goneby and Jasper’s still not himself. I’m angry at him, of course. But my anger pales in comparison to the anger and self loathing he carries. That night was… intense. I never wanted to actually make him hurt, but when he begged for it, something broke loose inside me. My soft side hid in a dark corner of my mind and I let my animal instincts take over. It was freeing to turn off my thoughts and surrender to raw impulse. Weirdly, I think it brought us closer together too.

Jasper’s asleep on his side, the tension in his jaw now gone. He’s hugging my pillow to his chest, tangled up in the blanket. I slid out of bed a few minutes ago, unable to sleep for the third night in a row. Ever since we found Bailey on that drive, I can’t get my birth parents out of my head. Knowing we’re a step closer to finding her gives me some hope after years of dead ends. They’ve always been just out of reach.

The closest I got was the summer I turned eighteen. I remember feeling extra frustrated at my father for some reason that escapes me now, so I decided to break into his office at the station. Getting in turned out to be way easier than I expected. Just took some flirty lies to the cop on duty and I was inside. The problem came when I couldn’t get into his filing cabinet. That thing had this heavy duty lock. I tried to pick it with a paperclip but got interrupted when the pervy cop came in to “check on me.” That ended in the most unenthusiastic blowjob of my life.

I went home and watched everything I could find about lock picking. Practiced on a bunch of locks I found at thrift shops in town, everything ranging from doorknobs to bike locks. When I finally felt like I gained some skill, I figured out that cop’s schedule and went back on his night shift, pretending like I was there to see him.

Another blowjob later, and I was in. I scanned file after file, all past cases of particular interest to my dad. I didn’t have much time until myfriendwould be back from checking the front. Something in my gut made me stop when my fingers touched a file without a label. It was the only unmarked one. I grabbed it and stuffed it in my backpack, getting out of there before he could try asking me on a real date.

Back in my bedroom, I opened the file with trembling hands, telling myself it’s probably nothing.

I was wrong.

It was everything he had from that night. Everything he had onme.

How they responded to an anonymous tip.

How it was a run-down trailer, isolated in the middle of nowhere.

How needles littered the floor, mixed in with garbage and filth.

How I was there in the center of it all. Five years old. Filthy and starving. Drawing with a broken crayon on the back of an envelope. Completely alone.

There was a note.Please save her. She’s all I have.

No signature. No identification for me. The trailer belonged to some worthless parasite who rented to addicts and criminals for cash. From what the file held, my birth parents may as well have been ghosts.

I always knew my dad had connections with the town politicians, but I never realized the judge expedited my adoption papers. New documents were filed, and my previous life vanished. I became Falin Sinclair. Deputy’s daughter. When he got promoted to sheriff a few years later, shortly after my mom died, there was no discussing my past. There were barely any discussions at all. The home grew cold. He turned to whiskey. And I got lost in lines of code, teaching myself to crack passwords like I’d learned to pick locks.

Since then, I’ve never fucked around with drugs. Knowing addiction is in my blood makes me terrified to turn out the way my birth parents did. I feel for Jasper, and I know how strong the pull to use is. I’ll do everything I can to help him.

He rolls onto his back, murmuring in his sleep. He’s so damn cute like this, I’m tempted to crawl back beside him. Too bad I can’t turn off my brain. When I open a new tab, the bright screen must wake him.

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