Adam 

Four years ago… 

Sometimes, when it got too cold out, it reminded me of the frigid bite of handcuffs around my wrists the night I’d gotten arrested, ending the most freeing forty-eight hours of my life in a series of bright flashes and vitriol. 

The press called me all kinds of things. 

A revenge-driven sociopath. 

Unrepentant. 

A sick, self-serving monster.

The media had a funny way of twisting things. 

They crucified me, held me to a higher level of scrutiny than they had my father’s murderer. They never talked about what he’d done. No, they called it an accident. 

It wasn’t an accident, because I’d been there. I knew what I saw. 

I watched Derek Romano’s hands jut out as he shoved my dad back with full force, witnessed as my father collided with the weak barrier and the realization of his imminent death wash over his face. The fear that he’d never watch Saoirse and I grow up, he’d never slow dance with my ma in the kitchen again or operate the very coaster that served as his final ride. I could still hear that sickening crack of wood in my ears and feel my throat growing raw as I screamed as he went over. 

Romano deserved it, and I guessed I deserved what I got after because no one felt compassion for the kid who’d watched his father die at the hands of someone else. 

The angry red and blue lights flashed behind my lids in my memory, sirens pierced the air echoing in my ears, and the bang of the front door being kicked in snatched the breath out of my lungs. Back then, it hadn’t been me I was afraid for. I didn’t care what happened to me, and maybe some part of me wanted to just give them a reason to end the feedback loop in my head once and for all. But the noise and the yelling had drawn Ma out of bed. I shouted at her to stop, but it was too late to prevent her from seeing what the years after Dad’s death had done to me. 

She stood there, wide-eyed with terror, the hemline of her floral nightgown fluttering at her ankles and her short strawberry blonde hair in disarray as she took me in and everything she thought she knew about me faded away in the blink of an eye. 

I wasn’t the son she’d raised, but a stranger who’d kissed her good night hours earlier, who’d swiped a hot, freshly baked cookie from a baking tray despite her protest this morning and winked at her. The son she’d told to stop teasing his blushing sister when the phone rang and she made a dash to it before I could grab it to heckle the asshole who wanted to take her out.

We were normal hours earlier, and now I’d fractured us permanently with my actions the night before. 

The way my arrest had unfolded surprised me, because it was like the movies. 

The cops had shouted for me to come out with my hands up, and I’d been prepared to do just that—but I’d nearly seen red when they pointed a gun in Saoirse and Ma’s direction.

It had made the reprieve of the short-lived taste of revenge flee my body. For a fleeting moment, I thought about running just to remind them I was the criminal here, not them. 

Give them a reason to fire in my direction. 

Instead, as Ma and Saoirse lifted their hands nervously and my sister gave into the tears of terror, I lowered myself to the ground just like they asked me to. I inhaled scent of the carpet odor eliminator Ma had sprinkled and vacuumed the day before. The tight fibers itched against my cheek as the drumming of hard footsteps took the stairs two at a time. 

Any lingering fight I still had in my body vanished as they held me down with and cuffed me because what I’d seen on Ma’s face kept me compliant.  

Shame. 

I’d let her down in the most unforgiving way. 

I’d beaten a man, and any kind of validation I’d experienced vanished. The tears filling her eyes undid the vindication, and it was my fault, because despite Drew’s warning, I hadn’t been careful. I hadn’t kept myself tethered, and it ultimately cost V and me four years of our lives. 

Drew got off scot-free thanks to his family’s resources, connections, and money. 

Gabe’s church stepped in and spewed some bullshit about Jesus redeeming his soul—he got shipped to off on some kind of missionary trip to spread the word of Christ or whatever Catholic cults did.

But V and I paid. We paid hard. Before we were in prison, we thought we were big. We hadn’t known fuck all. 

Prison taught us just how fucking inconsequential we were in the grand scheme of things. 

We left prison hardened because on the inside, no one gave a shit about you. Everyone was a snake looking for a reason to strike. Those four years had fostered a need for survival unlike anything else I’d ever experienced before.  

And although the cuffs no longer existed around my wrist, and I’d forgotten what the starch of the jumpsuit felt like against my skin, and I no longer answered to an inmate number, it wasn’t enough to undo what I’d done. 

Even now as the steady drumming of a hammer struck somewhere in the house, reminiscent of the singular pound of the gavel against the sound block that sealed my fate from the judge who sentenced me after a guilty verdict, I confronted the same reality every time my thoughts wandered too far and I remembered I wasn’t finished avenging my father’s death. 

Maybe I was a monster after all. 

But on this job site, in this one place where I didn’t have to confront the way I let my family down, I was just Adam. An ordinary twenty-five-year-old who’d chosen old house restoration labor over a college education. It wasn’t my first pick, but my only choice. Apparently, the world wasn’t that receptive to criminals. 

Sean Tavares, my boss for the last couple of weeks, hadn’t given two shits about me or my past—he hadn’t asked. I’d found the job ad on a bulletin board at a grocery store and called. There hadn’t been a formal job application. Not like every other place that I applied after I’d gotten out where I had to come face to face with that single question and box to check mark. 

Have you ever been convicted of a criminal offence? 

I’d never be able to erase that part of myself. 

And sometimes, I wasn’t sure I wanted to, either. 

All Sean wanted was for me to prove why he should let me come back the next day. So I did, because if there was one thing that I had that the rest of the crew didn’t it was that survival instinct. 

Anything I didn’t know, I learned, and I learned fast because I needed this job. I made the most of a woodworking and construction outreach program I’d been a part of in prison. 

The money wasn’t shit, either. 

I liked that I overexerted myself every day, that I left too exhausted to even think some days. I liked that no one busted my balls for being quiet, that they accepted I wasn’t a talker, that I didn’t want to be their friend or grab beers with them after work and listen to them bitch about their wives, two-point-five kids and mediocre lives. 

The fewer connections I had, the better. 

My strategy was mostly working. 

Mostly. 

I’d been distracted, and distractions, as I knew firsthand, were as problematic as remaining untethered. Then again, I thought that was probably Katrina Tavares’ intent with all that fluorescent, pink hair reminiscent of a highlighter that hugged her heart-shaped face and the glint of a septum piercing. 

She wanted to be seen by someone. 

The first time I’d shown up here, one sweep of her demure, melted honey-brown eyes nearly put me on my ass. It made me hard in all the worst ways because I needed to focus. I didn’t want to notice the half inch of dark root regrowth at her scalp, or the way she tucked a furtive ear bud into her ear while she was working. The cord fed through the back of her sweater. I didn’t want to notice the way her head tipped back when she laughed or how round the apples of her cheeks grew when she smiled. I didn’t want to notice the depth of her cupid’s bow or wonder if her lips were the same shade as her… I shifted in place. 

You got the drift. I didn’t want to notice her, period. 

But she noticed me. She noticed me and the knowledge of that drove me crazy because those eyes of hers followed me everywhere I went. 

The harder I fought to ignore her, the more she fought back in silence, because we’d never uttered two words to each other. 

She was Sean’s kid sister, five years my younger, and completely off limits. 

I needed this job to prove to Ma that I could assimilate back into society after what I did, that I was more than just a stain on my family’s last name and Katrina would not fuck that up for me no matter what my cock wanted. 

I wouldn’t allow it. 

The problem was, the harder I shunned the younger Tavares, the more persistent she became. She found excuses to be close by, even though our paths had few reasons to cross in this house. She worked closely with the pregnant designer, Penelope—who I figured out was with Dougie, the foreman.

If Penelope wanted to see a paint swatch against the wall, Katrina would deliberately pick the room I was in, spewing bullshit about the lighting. But I’d feel her, even with my back turned to where they stood. 

If she was cleaning up after the crew, she started in the room I was in first, taking her sweet fucking time while I got drunk on her scent, bending over and drawing my eyes to her round ass that had my hands twitching.

She was like oxygen and I couldn’t help but want to breathe her in until my lungs burned and my ribcage squeezed. 

But she never spoke. 

Not for a lack of trying. From my peripheral, I’d catch the way her throat would shift like she was trying to find her nerve, while pink the shade of her hair would stain her cheeks, but nothing would come out of her plump, bee-stung lips. 

It was only the reprieve I had because I didn’t want her to talk to me. 

Talking left me vulnerable to growing hungry for information about her I could never use. 

I needed to fuck her out of my system with someone else. 

Maybe I’d finally return Vince’s calls, let Drew get me drunk on his parents’ yacht in Florida with the newcomer to our circle, Max, or go to a party with Gabe in our hometown where everyone knew who I was, what I’d done, and didn’t give a shit because Rockchapel was a shit hole anyway and no one cared. Do an eight-ball of coke off the small of some bitch’s back just to get a hit of dopamine and then take her against a wall because I felt like there was something crawling inside of my skin and I couldn’t get it out on my own no matter how often I stroked off because without fail I’d see those honey browns on me and that brought me to climax so much faster than I was used to. 

Katrina was a problem, and not just because she turned me into a twenty-second man, but because she looked at me, really looked at me—and I hated it. 

My anonymity here allowed me to avoid my past for eight hours a day, but when I felt the weight of her curious eyes on me, it brought back all the feelings I’d tried to compartmentalize since my return home. 

Guilt.  

So I remained aloof because she needed to get it through her head that this job was a necessity of my survival, not because this was my life’s calling. I wasn’t one of those kids who’d grown up with dreams of a career or the white picket fence bullshit. I’d spent the last decade of my life with only one thing in mind—revenge, and nothing, and no one was going to make me change my mind. 

She couldn’t seem to stay away, though. And as the weeks stretched on, she’d get a little closer each time. And the closer she got, the stronger my awareness of my heartbeat grew and an ache I couldn’t place stormed in my chest. Two days ago, I’d made the mistake of meeting her eyes dead on—intending to scare her off—and it felt like I’d found myself ensnared in a steel-jaw trap with a single blink of those lashes of hers. 

I couldn’t look away. How had she done that to me? 

She took that as a green light, permission to acknowledge me. Katrina had smiled, slowly at first, until she flashed her too-big front teeth. 

I didn’t mirror the advance. I just stared at her with a contrived, unfailing disgust, watching as that pretty smile collapsed because she needed to get the message through her stubborn skull. 

I wasn’t interested—but not for the reason she might have thought. 

No, it would be easier for us both if I didn’t get that slight shock in my balls every time I caught a whiff of her rose garden perfume or if my breaths didn’t quicken when I heard her squeaky laughter somewhere. It would be better if, despite my commitment to remaining focused, my eyes didn’t seek her out, too. I hated I could grow obsessive and for that reason alone; I had to feign disinterest because obsessive people were dangerous people. 

I didn’t want to notice her, not now, not ever. 

And I wanted my stupid cock and head to get the message. 

Sean’s baritone called for me across the house, pulling me out of the twisted web of my thoughts. “Adam.” I glanced at him behind my shoulder, wiping the sweat off my brow with the back of my wrist. Compared to Katrina’s alternative style, petite stature, too pale skin, fluorescent hair, rounded cartoony features, and septum piercing, her older brother was a burly, towering man, with a sharp face, a deep complexion and not a lot of patience for anything. He jutted a thumb down a hallway with an X marked on the walls to signify it was coming down. “Run down to the basement and double-check the breakers are off.” 

They definitely were off. It was freezing in here. I didn’t argue though, I never did. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do to keep this job, and I’d gotten wind that Sean and Dougie wanted to give me something more meaningful to do. I offered him a quick head nod, setting the sledgehammer to the floor. I lifted the respirator mask off, blood rushing to the surface of my skin from the grooves the mask had left. 

The muscles in my legs protested when I descended the stairs, the creaky wood bouncing under the drumming of my steps. The earthy mustiness of the basement hit my sinuses, the cinderblock walls wet in some places. Dougie and Joey had affixed a foot-long sheet of aluminum foil to the wall this morning to determine where the water was coming from. 

For Sean’s sake, I hoped it was an interior issue. Those were easier to fix. If it was an exterior problem, you might as well torch this place to the ground and start over again—it would be cheaper.

I surveyed the darkened basement, motes of dust dancing in the stream of gray light from the square window, spotting the breaker panel in the back. I headed toward it, passing the cellar door that was slightly parted, letting in a cold draft. The hinges on the panel squeaked when I flipped it open, my eyes scanning over the breakers. 

They were all off. 

Just as I was going to close it, a dark, slender shadow slashed across the wall in front of me, arms outstretched. I whipped around out of instinct, my fingers hooking around the column of a delicate throat faster than I could process.

A feminine squeak hit my ears as I backed the source against a wall.

Those honey-brown eyes that taunted me after hours flared with a combination of fear and something else I couldn’t place. Mile-high lashes touched full, feathery brows as she blinked up at me, her tiny soft grasp locking around my forearm to break my hold.

Fuck. It was her.

Her wild pulse racing under my hand sent a reflex flood of blood to my cock as I fought the urge to thrust myself against her and bury my nose in her hair just to get another deep whiff of her perfume. 

I didn’t even know why she wore perfume on a construction site or all that makeup, or who she was trying to impress, if it was just for me or… it didn’t matter. 

With a tight swallow, I ripped my hand away, staggering back. “Why the hell are you slinking around down here?” 

Those were my first words to her. Guilt sat as heavy as brick in my stomach as I watched her massage her neck, red welts already appearing against her complexion.

She bruised easily. 

Her head fell back against the cinderblock, bright pink hair hugging the curve of her face as her eyelids dropped shut and her pert nose wrinkled. 

The unexpected velvety laugh slipped out of her, quaking her chest. 

I rose a brow. What the fuck was so funny?

And then she said her first words to me as her eyes opened, the fear long gone, mischief taking its place. “You scare easily,” she said in a whisper, tracing her plump bottom lip with her fingertips, earning the flaring of my nostrils. “That surprised me.”

Warmth spread from my groin, my stomach dipping. “I wasn’t scared,” I gritted, failing to disguise my irritation with myself. “You snuck up on me.”

“I wasn’t sneaking up on you.” She brushed her hair behind her ears, showing off her neck before pushing off the wall. 

I canted my head, glancing at the open cellar door. “And what would you call slipping out of the cellar and coming up from behind me?”

She sized me up; her plump lips pulling into a rogue smile. “An adrenaline rush.” 

Adrenaline rushes. I used to be addicted to those. Used to chase that high like my life depended on it. But adrenaline rushes had turned into an insatiable lust for vengeance.

I hooked my hands behind my neck, keeping my expression bored. “Your brother’s looking for you,” I lied. I needed her out of my sight so I could adjust myself because, apparently on top of being a criminal, I was a pervert, too. 

She was twenty. Not a kid, but she made me feel old with the naïve twinkling in her gaze.

She blew out a frustrated breath, rolling her eyes. “What else is new?” It wasn’t a mystery to anyone on the site that she didn’t really want to be here. She was a bit of an enigma herself, despite the attention her appearance drew. 

Katrina dragged her teeth across her bottom lip, lifting her eyes to mine. Her central incisors were longer than the rest of her teeth, and the more I looked at her, the more I realized she reminded me of a rabbit. 

A tiny little rabbit. 

It made me want to hunt her. 

That realization made me lightheaded, my nerve endings tingling throughout me and twitching my cock dangerously. I turned on my work boot. 

Time to go.

“Wait,” she called out to me. 

My boots hit the brakes, and I hated myself a little. Grinding my teeth, I turned my head over my shoulder, angling an impatient brow at her. 

Katrina swiped her palms along the outside seam of her leggings, her mouth pulling with thought. It was the only part of her face that wasn’t made up. “Why are you so jumpy?”

I considered her question for a moment to distract myself from trying to consume every detail about her right down to what shade of pink her lips would turn if I kissed her.  

Why was I so jumpy? I had to be. Prison did that to you. There was no such thing as subtle movements. You needed to be on your toes at all times. 

“Just am.” I shrugged, observing as her shoulders slumped with disappointment. “Can I go now?”

“I’m not holding you hostage.”

So why couldn’t I convince my feet to move? “You going to come back up?” Not that I cared, I told myself. She could do whatever the fuck she wanted, just as long as I knew where she was, too.

What was I saying? 

She looked to the stairs, then shook her head. “Not yet.” 

Go upstairs, Adam. “Why not?” I asked, hating myself a little. 

She tugged on the neckline of her gray crewneck, blowing out a breath. “I can’t breathe up there sometimes.” She laughed a little, but the admission stole all the air from my lungs. How could she be so candid without fear? “It’s kind of stupid, but…” She stared at the tip of her tired boots, her jaw tensing. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being invisible, you know?” Katrina lifted her head, eyes rounding. “That’s why you dye your hair, right? To be seen?” Out of reflex, she touched her hair, watching me watching her. “Don’t force your mark on the world.” 

“Was that supposed to be inspirational?” she questioned, pinching the strands between her fingers. 

“No, just reality.” I turned, taking another step toward the stairs.

“I don’t want to be seen by the world,” she blurted, stopping me again as the tingling of warning set off at the base of my neck, waiting for her to finish that sentence. “Just you.” My lungs shook as the world spun out around me.

My eyes lidded as I drew in a sharp breath through my nose. 

Goddamn it. 

Everything in me told me to keep going, but I betrayed myself. 

I turned around and drank her in like she was the only thing keeping me alive. She held her pointed chin up at me, her round eyes determined, brows pulled in the middle and, try as she did to keep her lips pinched together, they naturally parted to accommodate her teeth. 

Innocent, so fucking innocent. 

“You don’t want to be seen by me,” I husked darkly. 

I’d eat her alive.

I wondered if she was aware her body tilted in my direction as she held my eyes. “I do,” she volleyed back. “And you see me.” She swallowed tightly, her unabashed gaze exploring mine. “I know you do.”

Of course I did, because despite my better judgment, it was impossible not to. 

Wolves couldn’t ignore the moon. 

But she needed to understand I was a black hole, desperate to suck her in, a place where no light could escape from once it was absorbed. 

I was what remained of stars when they died, and if she wasn’t careful—I’d consume her. 

“I’m not going to date you,” I informed her. Some part of me regretted the words when she flinched as though I struck her. She searched the ground for an answer, momentarily losing her nerve.

Look at me, Little Rabbit. Take what you want. 

She lifted her head once more. “I don’t want to date you, either.”

Liar. 

I smirked. Glancing at the basement stairs, the steady thrumming of work above us gave me the green light. 

I just wanted a little taste.

With my arms hanging loosely at my sides, I inched toward her, savoring every insignificant detail of her as she remained rooted in place, watching my predatory pursuit of her, my shadow threatening hers. I loved the subtle rise and fall of her small chest hidden by the crewneck, the fine tendons shifting in her throat with every nervous bob, and the way her pupils dilated. 

She backed into the wall, looking up at me through her lashes and without warning, I pinned one hand next to her head, my waist bending into her. “You’re kind of annoying,” I murmured. 

Katrina’s pillowy lips parted. They were the perfect shade of blush pink and looked petal-soft. I wanted to trace them and then feed my fingers into her hot mouth, but I didn’t move. 

“I prefer the word persistent.”

My lips tingled with the need to kiss her as I fought the urge I was quickly losing control of.

I wasn’t the tethered one, remember? I lacked self-control. 

Especially when she looked up at me like that. As though I could be her savior and her devil. 

I wouldn’t save her from anything, though. Not even from me. 

“I can’t give you what you want, Katrina.” What she probably deserved.

“How do you know what I want?” she asked breathlessly and unafraid. How did she look and sound like I’d kissed her already? If I’d been trying to keep my cock in check, it was pointless with her this close and the evidence of her hammering pulse in the column of her pretty throat. 

I thought I heard it pounding hard and fast, desperate for me. But then I realized it was my heartbeat I heard, not hers. 

“‘Cause you look at me like I’m going to save you.” I tapped the inside of her feet, her legs widening for me to step between. 

Last chance, Little Rabbit. Once we crossed this line, there would be no going back for either of us.

And something told me she knew it, too. 

Her eyes grew half lidded, her shuddering warm breath fanning my face. Nervous palms settled on the panel of my chest, her fingers digging into me a little as she tilted her head to gaze up at me. I liked the way her neck had to recline to watch me, that her petite body felt like a magnet I couldn’t fight, pulling me closer. 

She was intoxicating. 

Addictive.

Dangerous. 

“Adam.” My chest puffed at the utterance of my name on her tongue. “Touch me,” she whispered. I searched her eyes as her voice practically pumped my cock, the tip swollen and pressing against the seam of my jeans, desperately. Those lips of hers parted again, her tongue darting out to lick at a dry groove there, taunting me. 

The proverbial rope keeping me restrained snapped. My lips collided against hers in a flurry of bright lights behind my lids and heat twisting inside of me like a firestorm, and I knew we were utterly fucked. 

Katrina’s arms weaved around my neck, summoning a herculean strength from God knew where from someone so small. She hauled me into her, and my hands closed around her ass, kneading the full flesh as I nudged her against me. Katrina moaned against my mouth, and that sound had my teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, commanding her to open for me. I couldn’t get her close enough. Her tongue lashed against mine, her taste bursting on my tongue. Coffee and the Dentyne Fire gum she was always stealing from her brother’s pocket. 

Her teeth gnashed against my own, her fingers spearing into my hair, tugging hard enough that the roots stung. 

But I didn’t feel it. All I could feel was her. I’d never kissed someone like her before—someone who made me forget I wasn’t good enough for her. 

Someone who made me want to be good enough.

Her bold, explorative palms slid under my shirt, slender fingers cruising against the plains of my abdomen, her blunt fingernails scoring my skin. 

I wanted her to draw blood. 

I released my grip on her ass to hook my arms under her thighs and wind her legs around my waist, settling my length against the seam of her leggings. Katrina’s eyelids fluttered shut, the small moan she let out working its way through me. I didn’t think I could get any harder, but every gesture, every sound, every shift of her little body had my head in a fucking tailspin. 

“Fuck me, Adam,” she panted against my lips. 

And despite the temptation, the offering of her supple little body for me to hunt and mark and make mine, I wouldn’t.

“Not here.” The threat of getting caught was too great, even if it was adding an element of debauched to this whole thing that made me want to defile her on this dirty floor. 

“Please,” she whimpered. “I feel like my skin’s on fire. I,” she croaked out, shaking her head, her eyes hooded as her hand closed around her own throat, measuring her pulse. “I’ve never felt like this before.” 

I rocked my jaw, a bolt of mistrust laced with a warning zipping through me. That was virginal territory, and I didn’t do virgins no matter what she did to me physically. 

Too complicated, and they always got their emotions involved. 

“Are you a virgin?” 

“What the hell?” Her eyes shot open, her brows meeting in the middle. “Of course not.” 

“You sure?” 

Anger flashed across her face, before it twisted into something that I decided I didn’t enjoy seeing on her face—sadness. She unhooked her legs around my waist, peeling her warm hands off me, the absence immediate. Why was she so pissed? 

She wouldn’t even look at me. 

Katrina tried to create distance between us, giving me her profile. Her nose crinkled as she collected herself, her lips taut. 

When I wouldn’t move, she attempted to dip under my arm, but I caught her gently by the waist, my fingers finding her chin and guiding her flinty eyes back to mine.

I’d rather her anger than her sadness. I didn’t deserve the latter. 

“I’m not the guy to lose your V-card, too.” Maybe in an alternate timeline—where I had my shit together and my family wasn’t a mess and I hadn’t gone to jail—I was. 

Katrina let out a haughty sound, slapping my arm away from her. “Get over yourself.” She clutched her waist, her lashes compressing into a tight line as though she were fighting back tears.

I gripped her chin again, drawing her attention back to me. “Why are you so pissed?” 

Jesus Christ, didn’t she see I was trying to be nice? 

“Why are you so arrogant?” she seethed, dropping her shoulders. She sized me up with disgust. “As if I’d give you of all people my virginity—” I crowded her space, interrupting her. 

“Then who got it?” And why did I suddenly care? “Hm?” I planted my forehead against hers, my nose tracing hers. Who got to explore her tight cunt for the first time? Who made her bleed? 

“Another asshole who did more than just pop my cherry,” she exhaled, her gaze dropping to my lips involuntarily before skimming back up with hatred. “Now let me go before I bite you.” The threat didn’t have the effect on me she wanted it to. 

She wanted to play with fire? I’d pour the fucking gasoline. “Do it,” I dared, lowering my mouth to hers in offering, massaging the words against her pout. “Make it painful.” 

Just when I thought she was going to back down, she struck like a snake. Her teeth sank into my bottom lip, biting hard enough that I winced, endorphins surging through me. 

My little rabbit could be vicious after all, and I fucking loved it. 

She held my eyes, copper filling my mouth and hers when the skin broke, my cock jumping against her thigh. Katrina pulled away, evidently taken aback by her own display of violence, her mouth stained in crimson. She wiped it away, rubbing it into her fingertips. 

It was everything I needed. 

My long fingers weaved into her hair, pinning her against me. I slammed my mouth back against hers, loving how perfectly her lips melded against mine even though her splayed palms shoved against my chest with hostility. She wasn’t getting away from me that easily, not when I just experienced what she was capable of. 

What else did she have in her? How else could she hurt me? 

I broke away from her mouth, her maroon-tinted lips swollen under my assault. Grabbing her hand, I looked at the stairs, and then pulled her toward the cellar, hitting the light switch on our way in. The bulb flickered in and out, illuminating a stack of boxes lining the wall. It was cold, damp and musty in here, our breaths a small cloud of steam. I didn’t know how much time we had before someone noticed our absence. Katrina stared up at me wide-eyed when I closed the door behind us. 

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, hands balled at her sides, her chin proud as she announced, “I’m not a virgin.” I believed her. No virgin kissed like that. “And you’re not special.” 

I believed that, too. 

But for some unexplainable reason, I wanted to be. 

“Take off your pants,” I commanded hoarsely, my eyes heating as I traced over her trembling frame. She didn’t immediately move, pride and defiance flashing in her expression as she stared at the door I blocked, weighing out her options.

She wasn’t captive. I’d let her go if she wanted.

But that wouldn’t stop me from begging her to stay like she was some kind of haven I hadn’t been aware existed right under my nose. 

Katrina held my eyes as she undid the laces on her boots. I peeled off the green and blue plaid over shirt I’d been wearing over the gray Tavares Construction T-shirt they had issued to me last week. Tossing the plaid at her feet for her to step on, she seemed taken aback by my display of concern. 

I’d kneel on coals for her, I realized, because her comfort came first. 

Her knee-length wool socks followed, revealing black polished toes and narrow feet that were small like the rest of her. I followed her hands as they hooked around her waistband, her upper back pressed against a stack of boxes behind her as she tugged downward. 

I rubbed the corners of my mouth, expelling a tight breath. “Leave your panties on.” I wanted to do the honors. 

My skin grew feverish, watching as she slid the stretch of black material over her ass, her stare fastened to my face, watching as I drank her in. 

I almost smiled at the dainty, white and pink polka-dotted bikini-styled panties flashed before my eyes as she dragged her leggings down over the curve of her lean legs, stepping out of them. 

Instead, I swallowed because the lust throbbing in my balls robbed me of the ability to do much else at this moment. 

She perched her hands behind her against the boxes, staring at me. Waiting for my next move, but all I could do was look at her. 

I rubbed the corners of my mouth, my chest hitching as I lifted my eyes to observe her. “Who was he?” 

She turned her head, giving me her profile. Her jaw tensed, gaze fixed away from me. “Does it matter?” 

No, not really. But… despite my feelings toward virgins, I didn’t… I hated the idea of… “No,” I replied, stepping away from the door. 

As long as I could fuck the memory of him out of her because I wanted her to remember me in two years, five years, and twenty. 

I wanted to be the last thing she thought of when she took her dying breath as an old woman surrounded by kids that weren’t mine, given to her by a man who could give her the sun, moon, and the stars. 

But when she faded from this world, I wanted to be who she sought in the afterlife if there was one, because in this life; I didn’t get to keep her.

But God, I fucking wanted to. 

I wanted to be good for her. 

My fingers trailed along the outside of her thighs, tracing over each goosebump that erupted on her skin as her attention returned to me. Her eyelids dropped shut, her back bowing, projecting those tiny breasts against her crew neck in offering for me. 

I wanted to see them. I bet they were pretty and small, just like the rest of her. 

I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, tasting the heady combination of my blood and her lingering taste in my mouth. I wanted more, so much more than I deserved because I was greedy. My hands trailed over her sides, traced over the cotton panties, and slid up her shirt to frame the gentle dip of her waist. She shivered at the gesture, a small, desperate puff of air leaving her mouth as she fought to remain upright. 

Tentatively, I lowered my mouth to hers again, dragging her tight body against mine as I tasted her. She was small enough to snap in two or shove in my pocket depending on how you wanted to look at it, but there was a constant whirring that set off in my brain that wanted to mark her.

To claim her. 

This could be catastrophic and I could no longer find a reason to care. In this basement, my faults didn’t matter. I withdrew my fingers from under her shirt, studying the subtle gestures in her face as my callused fingers traced the waistband of her panties, teasing her soft skin. Her stomach shook under me, saliva pooling in my mouth.

I wanted to eat her. Hard, and good, until she came and every fucker in this town knew what I was doing to her. I sank to my knees, hooking my fingers completely around the cotton panties, smirking at the innocence of the bow detail on the front that didn’t match her. 

My chest shook as I peeled her panties down, my cock ramming painfully against the crotch of my pants at the sight of her. Cleanly shaven, not a hair to be found. Her sweet arousal hit my nose as I let her panties puddle at her ankles. Lifting her calves, she stepped out of them, her knees locking together shyly, betraying the girl who’d asked me to touch her and fuck her.

She wasn’t hiding from me. I wanted to see what she was made of.

“Spread ‘em,” I husked, my hands closing around her thighs. Her engorged, swollen lower lips were glossy with need. “Play with yourself, Trina.” 

Her eyes flared, her throat weaving as I lifted my heated eyes to her. “You want me to fuck you with a house full of men upstairs, with your brother right above us,” I kissed the inside of her thigh, brushing my cheek against her skin, the goosebumps rising to attention, “give me a reason to.”

Just when I thought she was going to back out, she anchored one foot against a short box to her right, opening herself up for me as her hand crawled across her hairless apex. My heart was pumping, one of my hands falling to my cock, massaging myself through my clothes. She dipped her fingers forward, gathering her arousal on the tips of her slight fingers, then circled the gorgeous bundle of nerves with a featherlike pressure that made her stomach quake. The little whimper sent a million lightning bolts to my cock, my teeth brandishing her thigh, before I planted my cheek against her, watching her closely, drawing tight inhales through my nose.

She edged herself, starting slowly with barely there pressure before she worked herself more firmly and drew her hand back, whining at her own ministrations as she denied herself repeatedly. 

“Jesus Christ,” I exhaled, squeezing her calve with one hand and my cock with the other. I watched as she rubbed her own cream up and down her seam, the juncture of her mound and thigh glistening. And just as I thought she was going to sweep those delicate fingers around her clit again, without warning she tunneled three fingers inside of herself, her hips bucking off the wall as she fucked herself for me, drilling into herself relentlessly, the slick squelch making the cellar spin out on me. 

I couldn’t take it anymore. 

I nudged her hand out of my way, my mouth closing around her clit, her taste exploding on my tongue. She was sweet, like the honey of her eyes, with just the slightest touch of earthiness that had me going back for more. I sucked her clit; the leg planted on the ground, spasming against my head. Katrina clapped a hand against her mouth, her lids compressing as she cried out into her own palm. She hooked her leg around my shoulders, hauling me into her, pinning me in place as she bucked against my open mouth. I opened my mouth wider, pressing my taut tongue against her seam, and licking upward, the gesture making her pelvis chase after my mouth.

I fitted one hand against her hip, gripping her tightly to help her remain upright as I flicked my tongue against her clit and she jolted, crushing her pubic bone against my mouth in pursuit of friction. I tugged her clit gently with my teeth, loving the tiny whimpers she let out, my stomach fluttering. My balls practically drew inward with the promise of coming without ever having felt the heat of her pussy swallowing my cock. 

She fed the inner wolf in me, the one who wanted to pin her to the ground and rut into her until he spilled inside of her.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” I groaned against her. “Take what you need from me, that’s it.”

“Adam,” she panted, tugging her shirt up to her chin. My eyes feasted on the just barely there soft swells of her tits under the demi-bra. The barbells of her pierced nipples chafed against the thin lace, the hand that had been between her legs closing around her left breast. 

I was wrong. There was nothing innocent about Katrina.

She’d been fucking made for me, and goddamn it, there would never be another after me. 

Katrina’s hips seesawed against my mouth, her arousal painting my mouth and chin. She tasted too fucking good to give up. Her hands gripped my T-shirt, hauling me upright. There was no second thought when she pressed her lips against mine, tasting herself on my tongue when I dipped into her open mouth. My long fingers settled between her legs, bathing in her slickness and as I grazed her clit with my thumb, loving her desperate whine. 

“Beg,” I said hoarsely. “Beg for my cock.”

I didn’t know why I needed it. Her body’s physical response to me alone was enough, but some unadulterated part in my brain wanted her voiced desire imprinted on my mind. 

“I need your cock, Adam.” She ran her palms downward, her chest caving in as she popped the button on my jeans free with a nimbleness that made me feral, followed by my zipper, my waistband loosening. I reached into my back pocket, drawing out my wallet. I’d stuffed a condom in there a couple of weeks ago as a precautionary measure. 

You never knew when your new favorite obsession was going to invite you in. 

Tossing my wallet to the floor next to her leggings, I peeled the foil open, latex hitting my nose. Her hand slipped into my waistband, the breath snagging in my lungs as she palmed my cock, stroking me deftly. 

I flexed into her palm, my head falling forward. Katrina sank to her knees unexpectedly, tugging my pants and boxer briefs over the curve of my ass. My cock jutted in her direction proudly, and I watched through hooded eyes as the tip of her bright pink tongue lapped at the bead of precum sitting on the crown of my cock. Her shoulder-length hair slipped over her shoulders, tickling my pelvis as she opened her mouth wide for me and swallowed me into her mouth, striking the back of her throat as she bobbed along my length relentlessly, her lashes kissing her cheek as she worked.

My grip sank into her hair, twisting around my fist as she worked, the muscles at the back of her throat twitching with each brush of my hips, my stomach tingling as pleasure flooded in my groin. One of her hands wrapped around my length, working in sync with her hot mouth, while the other cupped my balls. My stomach quaked, a throbbing of warning setting off as my balls prepared to draw inward. 

What the hell had she done to me? I wasn’t going to cum like this. “Get up,” I commanded gruffly, tugging at her hair. She peeled her mouth from my cock in a daze, smacking her glossy lips as I pulled her to her feet, backing her into the cold cellar wall. I didn’t trust those boxes not to fall by the time I was done with her. She sucked cock a little too well. I hadn’t had to teach her anything, and I didn’t like that as much as I should have. 

I kinda wished she was a virgin, after all. 

Katrina watched as I rolled the condom over my saliva slick cock. She parted her legs as I settled between them, my mouth finding hers as my hands hooked around her thighs. I couldn’t think straight, my skin tightening as she pressed her nose against mine, her breath ghosting over my face. She slid a hand between us, guiding the tip to her entrance, coating me with her arousal to gather at the tip. 

“Adam.” My name left her mouth in a garbled whimper as I sank against her. She was tight, her walls stretching around me to accommodate my girth, my balls skimming against her until I could go no further. 

Holy shit. 

Her fingernails raked across the back of my neck as she tested our connection with her mouth against mine, and my heart pounded in tandem with hers. I drew my hips back, breaking away from her kiss to watch as I entered her again at an agonizingly slow pace, pleasuring flooding throughout my body at the visual, making my head heavy.

Every time I slid forward, I felt every muscle inside of her practically clench around me possessively. 

How was I supposed to give this up after this? 

Katrina bucked forward with impatience, that needy whine hitting my ears again. I got the hint, and she didn’t need to ask me twice. 

What my little rabbit wanted, my little rabbit got.  

“When was the last time you got fucked, huh?” I demanded, plunging deeper, licking the bead of sweat along the column of her throat. 

She held my eyes, her pretty lips separating with a pant, as her body absorbed the brutality of my thrusts. Katrina shifted up the wall, but I drove her back down. She was going to feel every inch of me, no matter what. 

“Tell me, baby.” 

The command made her gush around my cock, her eyelids twitching as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. 

I couldn’t think straight as I thought about her with someone else.

The thought made me lethal. 

It made me want to do all kinds of crazy shit I had no business doing because I couldn’t keep her. 

Right? 

Leaning forward, I sampled the length of her jawline with my teeth, her neck curving to offer me better access. Her grip on my hair grew more possessive, tugging to bring me back to her mouth. Her sweaty forehead met mine, her eyes searching my face. “I like you.” 

Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. 

The statement made me harder than I’d ever been before. The throbbing in my body intensified, a tingling setting off from the top of my scalp, right down every disc in my back, wrapping around my waist and settling between us. 

I buried my face in the crook of her neck just to avoid her gaze, slipping a hand between us to play with her clit. 

She couldn’t like me. I had nothing to offer her. 

But maybe I could… I could become someone who was worthy of her. Someone who might be allowed to keep her. The pieces of a haphazard plan assembled in my mind as our bodies joined, her skin tightening under me. Just as the cry signaling her release crawled up her throat and her pussy milked around me, I found her lips again. 

I didn’t kiss her with that bruising assertiveness she’d expected. I kissed her gently because I had a plan. A plan where I got to keep her and get my revenge, too.  

If I could make her believe I was someone else, if I could take on that identity… maybe I could keep her. Maybe I could make her mine. 

Katrina framed my face with her palms, the soft stroke of her lips eating my lips making me buzz. We were so distracted; we didn’t hear someone coming down the stairs. 

But we sure as shit heard the cellar door open, the cold draft hitting my uncovered ass. The gesture picked up the unmistakable scent of our fucking in the air. Latex, sweat, her cum, mine…

I blocked her face with my chest, canting my head over my shoulder. 

But it was no use. There was only one other female on this job site, and she belonged to the one throwing daggers at my back. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dougie snapped, his Bristol County accent punctuated by his deviated septum. 

I met his eyes, containing the wince ripping through me. 

He was murderous.

Fuck. 

Trina squeaked, the color draining from her face. “Dougie.” 

He held out a hand like he didn’t want to hear it, looking ceiling-ward. His throat worked with an obvious swallow, fighting the urge to be sick. 

He was soft on her, saw her like a kid.

But now, now he knew she was a woman. 

“You’ve got five minutes,” Dougie muttered, turning away. He slammed the cellar door behind him, the light shuddering in and out above us. The stairs bounced under him. 

We both grimaced when the basement door slammed. 

I might need a new job. Shit. 

She dropped her forehead against me, kissing along my neck. “We’re so dead,” she announced in a whisper, but I heard the smile in her statement. She settled her palm against my cheek, my face turning in her grasp to kiss the center. “Now where were we?”

“I think you just got me fired.”

“He’s done worse,” she assured. 

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “What’s with you, Tavares?”

“We’re already going to be picking out our coffins after this, so we might as well make the most of the next five minutes.” She tightened her legs around my waist, pulling me in. 

I was going to need more than five more minutes with her.

I was going to need to rest of my goddamn life. 

All Rights Reserved  – © A.L. Woods