I want to believe that things are going to get better. I want to believe that Dean and Cayde choosing not to play their fathers’ game in the way that’s expected of them is really going to change things. But tonight—seeing Pixie, knowing that she’s with the club, knowing without much doubt left that they were behind my kidnapping and brutalization, leaves me wondering if there’s any point to fighting this.
Maybe it would have been better if I’d just let Dean claim his prize, marry Winter, and run the town. Followed the rules, followed tradition, taken a spot as a housekeeper on the estate, and lived out my life safely with my mother. I can’t help but think that everything that’s happening now is some kind of punishment for daring to buck those rules, for fighting back.
Better for whom, though?If I’d done that, if I’d just let things play out as they were meant to, Dean and Winter’s son—if they had one, and I have no doubt the traditions of their family are to force as many kids out of a bride as possible until she produces a son—would eventually play this game. He would be raised to believe what Dean always did, that the town and the body of another person belonged to him, his birthright. Their son and his friends would torment some other girl until she gave in and chose one, and this whole fucking awful cycle would begin again.
It has to stop.
“You can’t stop it,” Jaxon says quietly, and only then do I realize I’d said the last part aloud, low, and under my breath, but he’d still heard me. “You really can’t, Athena. They’re going to keep trying to hurt you and the people you care about.”
“And if I don’t try? They’re going to hurt others, too. I don’t belong to your fathers or any of the other crusty old men who run this town. I don’t even belong to you, or Dean, or Cayde, as much as you all want to believe I do—”
“I don’t think you belong to me.” Jaxon looks away, taking a deep swig of his beer.
I can hear the longing in his voice, and it startles me. I hadn’t realized until that moment, for all of our encounters, that he seemed to want me as much as I do him. And I know, after what just happened between us, that he’s very close to the edge of losing control.
It’s thrilling and terrifying all at once. And I have a choice—to exploit it and keep pushing him until he breaks and gives in, or back off, and let whatever there is between us keep hanging there, until it either explodes on its own or disappears.
The thought of never being with Jaxon, of letting what’s between us die, hurts more than it should.Waymore. And I try to ignore it, but I can’t.
“We can’t fight them,” Jaxon says quietly. “You’ll—Athena, I can’t stand seeing what will happen to you. You know that’s why I’ve tried so hard to stay away from you, right? Why I avoided you after the accident, why I entertained something with Pixie for even a minute, why this is so hard for me now. I can’t—”
He breaks off, and for once, I don’t push. I know this has something to do with the girl in his wallet, the girl he used to love, and I feel that mixture of jealousy and sadness again, twisting my gut until I just want to go home.
“I can’t give up,” I say quietly. “If that means you need to put some distance between us, then I understand. But I can’t just let all of this continue to happen withoutdoingsomething about it. So you make whatever choice you need to. I’ve made mine.”
I push my chair back again, but this time when I get up, I walk away from Jaxon. I stride towards the door, suddenly desperate to be out of the dim warmth of the bar, out into the cool night air.
The burst of it clears my head, but not for long. I’m barely two steps out when I hear Jaxon behind me, his boots heavy on the concrete, and feel his hand on my arm for the millionth time tonight.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he demands, his voice rough around the edges again. “Haven’t you figured out that it’s dangerous yet? You can’t—”
“Stop telling me what to do!” I try to shake him off, but his hand tightens. As I turn to yell at him to stopfuckingtouching me, he grabs me by both shoulders, pushing me back against the wall of the bar and pinning me there with his hard body, his chest heaving against mine as his mouth comes crashing down.
The force of the kiss takes me back, sends my blood rushing through my veins again with a dizzying heat, and I feel like I’m drowning, pushed and pulled by waves that I’m helpless to resist. He wants me, and he doesn’t. I want him for my own needs and simply because Ido, and right now, as always, his hands and mouth on me feel so fucking good, so right, that I can’t fight it even if I wanted to.
His hands slide down my arms, slipping to my waist, my hips, his own grinding into me so that I can feel him getting hard all over again. I moan helplessly against his mouth, wanting more.
I can’t stop myself from sliding my hand down between us, over the front of his jeans, feeling his thick, heavy erection nearly bursting through the fly. Jaxon groans even at that touch, his hips jerking against my palm, and something reckless comes over me at the feeling of that desperate motion, the needy grind of his body against my hand.
My fingers tug at his zipper, pulling it down so that I can slide my hand into his jeans and feel the heat of his bare skin against mine. He groans again when my fingertips slide against his length, and it just makes me want him even more. I want to slide my fingers around him, pulling him out of his jeans and into my hand, shielded by the darkness and the press of our bodies together against the stone wall.
I don’t know what’s come over me. I slide my thumb over his tip, coating it in his slick pre-cum, teasing the piercing there, rubbing it back and forth until Jaxon lets out another growl of pleasure, pushing himself against my hand, his body tensing when I wrap my hand around him, slowly sliding my fist downwards.
I want more. I want to sink to my knees and wrap my lips around him, I want to hook my legs around his waist and pull him into me, but that’s not possible here. I shouldn’t even be doing this, but I’m lost in the pleasure of his mouth on mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth, his cock throbbing in my fist as I stroke him, teasing the piercing at the tip with every stroke. The sound of his gasps, his body tensing as I run my fingers along his shaft, the way he moves with me just turns me on more until I know I’m wet, aching for him. All I want is to make him come, to feel him shudder against me with pleasure.
This can be good,I want to whisper into his ear.We can be good. This doesn’t have to be all hurt and fear.
“Fuck, Athena—” he growls my name into my ear, breaking the kiss and nipping at the lobe, one hand braced against the wall as his hips thrust into my hand. “We should stop—”
“Do you want me to stop?” I tilt my head up, still running my fingers along his length, pausing at the tip to push his piercing back and forth, rubbing my thumb through the slickness there to spread it down the length of his cock again.
“No,” he groans. “Fuck, I need to come so bad, but we—”
My hand tightens around him at that without my even really meaning for it to, and I slide my hand along his length faster, enjoying the heat of it in my hand, the way it throbs. It feels powerful, holding him like this, stroking him, knowing that I can make him come or stop and leave him aching, the way I have been for so long. Part of me almost wants to torment him the way I have been. Then I remember, this is Jaxon, who tried to protect me even if he failed, who was there for me on one of the worst nights, even if he wasn’t there on the worst of them all.
None of the boys of Blackmoor are perfect. Far from it. But Jaxon is the best of them and always has been.
“Athena, please—” His hips jerk again, his cock swelling in my fist, and I know he’s close. I keep stroking, faster now, my palm rubbing over the piercing with each stroke, until he suddenly surges against me, his cock throbbing as he lets out a nearly painful-sounding groan, kissing me hard to muffle the sound.