Page 58 of Fury

My heart pounded as my hips moved against her on some wild, animal instinct. There was no thinking now, only giving in, giving over. The swell of heat and excitement roared in my veins, only it tore at me, ripping. That familiar panic edged around my heart like a steel cage. The blade was at the ready, the spill of my blood.

A black fog filled my eyes. My skin was covered in a film of sweat, my neck twisted, my eyes jammed shut. “Stop. Stop.” I pulled back, and so did she. “I can’t. I start and then, there’s the knife and the—”

“Shh.” Her hand smoothed across my hot face. “Concentrate on my voice, on my body around you. Listen to me and take me. It’s just you and me here in this bed. You and me.”

She was saying it to herself as much as to me.

I swallowed hard. “Yeah, you and me.”

She turned on the bed and spread her legs. “Kiss me.”

I didn’t need to be convinced. I sank my mouth between her legs and relished the taste of her musky arousal that I knew so well. A narcotic filling my veins. I lapped at her slick flesh, taking in every detail, every throb and shudder and cry of her body. Thread by thread, ounce by ounce, I let go of that red-stained terror, the anxiety unchaining me, the shroud of pain lifting a few degrees more and more, fading.

Yes. Yes. This is better, so much better. Making her fly for me.

She moved underneath me, her hands tugging roughly on my hair, her eyes on me. She spoke to me in a steady stream of urgent words. Words of encouragement, words of lust. I focused on her voice and let it wrap around me and hold me.

I wanted more of her. I wanted her to explode for me, on me. Sliding my index finger inside her, I rubbed at her inner wall. A few years back one of the girls at the club had showed me how. Hitting the G-spot, she’d told me, was worth every ounce of effort and not enough men bothered. I wanted to bother for Serena. I wanted to shower her with gold and silver and diamonds, dazzle her, give her everything she’d never had. Give her a fuck of worship and adoration.

I churned my hand, forgetting I didn’t have a middle finger to slide inside her and give her a more intense experience. I gnashed my teeth together, doing battle with those same dark villains that I dueled with every fucking day. Inadequacy, resentment. Anger. Even here, in bed with the woman I craved, they wouldn’t leave me the hell alone.

That phantom ache sprinted over my chopped knuckle, reminding me.

Focus.

My muscles relaxed as I settled into a rhythm, my breathing easier with every moan that escaped her mouth. She cried out, once, twice, her back arching, body stiffening. A prickle raced over my scalp. That cry wasn’t from pleasure. No, I damn well knew the difference.

That was pain.

My heart clutched, and I stopped, rising up, bringing my face to hers. “Serena? What is it? You okay?”

“Please, please, keep going. Don’t stop.” She bit at her lip, her face turning away from mine, her arms taut against my shoulders, her jaw stiff like she was holding back being sick.

“Am I doing something wrong? You don’t like it? Tell me—”

“No! No, it’s not you,” she bit out.

My chest constricted. “What the fuck they do to you?”

“Please, please, Justin.” Her fingers touched my rigid jaw as if persuading it to ease. “Please...”

“What did those fuckers do to you?” I ground my forehead into hers, her tears wetting my lips.

“Justin—”

“Tell me!”

Her legs pressed together against mine. “He had me do a train the night before they left for San Diego, so I wouldn’t forget my place at the club.”

My heart flew up my throat and jammed there.“Fuck! Fuck!”

“And Jan—”

“Jan? The girl you shot? Whose car we took?”

“Yeah, she’s his new favorite. He had her pick the order of the men.”

“Jesus.” My grip on her flesh tightened.

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