Mercury Striking (The Scorpius Syndrome #1)

Nude, beneath him, she was breathless with vulnerability. “I don’t want scary, either.”

His belt free, he leaned toward her face. “You sure about that? Maybe scary is exactly what you need.” His thighs tightened, and he ran the leather down her neck and over her nipples. They hardened to sharp points and zipped electricity across every nerve. The memory of the leather against her flesh earlier assailed her.

She trembled, her mind blanking. “Uh—”

He grinned and grabbed her wrists in one firm hand. She struggled, and his fingers tightened. Awareness clipped through her on the heels of fear. Manacling her, he wrapped the belt around her wrists, securely binding them.

She gasped. “What are you doing?”

“Not being sweet.” He yanked her arms up over her head and fastened the belt to the metal headboard.

She arched, fighting him, unable to move.

Lightning flared outside, illuminating the harsh lines of his face. Of his tight, strong body.

She caught her breath, struggling against the bed, her arms bound tight. He encircled her neck, gently, but providing a clear reminder of her fragility. Humming softly, he traced a path down to her breasts, where he tweaked both nipples. Hard.

Electricity, desperate and out of control, zipped from her breasts to her sex. She arched up against him, a craving for more rendering her mute. Her entire life she’d been in control, and losing it, to somebody like him, heated her up. Fast.

He chuckled and stood, dropping his jeans. Hard and ready. He slid back onto the bed, all smooth-muscled grace, and flattened his hand over her abdomen. “You ever been tied up?”

“No,” she gasped, tugging on the restraint.

He chuckled, the sound dark. “I bet not. Brilliant, beautiful Lynne Harmony. I bet you had guys begging for a kiss. Nice guys.”

Awareness, uncertainty, caught her voice in her throat. “No.”

“Liar.” He reached up and played absently with a nipple, adding just enough bite to make her gasp. Confusion fuzzed through her brain as her body hungered with an edge close to pain. “Did they ask you politely for a kiss? Inquire as to what you wanted? Wait for instructions on how to touch you?” He slid down, parted her labia, and scraped a nail across her clit.

Pain and pleasure flared together. She cried out, shoving against his hand, needing more. So much more, but she instinctively tried to press her legs together.

“Yeah. I bet they asked permission. Hell—panted desperately for permission. Lawyers and stockbrokers—no alley rats or foxhole hounds like me.” He rolled on top of her, shoving her thighs wide and forcing her open with his hips. One hand held his weight off her, and his cock slid against her wet mound. “Nobody ever made you beg, now did they, baby?”

Heat flushed down her torso, and she closed her eyes. “No.” Her voice cracked. She could smell the raging storm on him, just barely covering the scent of violence. His shower in the rain had merely taken care of the dirt and blood. The violence lived within him. She swallowed. “For a take-charge badass, you sure talk a lot.”

He barked out a laugh, his breath heating her lips. “You’ve seriously miscalculated here.”

Her eyelids flipped open. “How so?” she breathed, throwing a challenge into her gaze, unnerved by the glint in his eyes.

His focus held steely determination. “Sweet, you could’ve handled. Sure, there would’ve been emotion, and that’s tough. But this way? My way?”

Even bound, even helpless, she tilted her head back on the pillow to raise her chin. “Yes?”

“This way, I’ll own you.”





Chapter Fifteen





Fairy tales tell us that love is a strong light, when in truth; it can be darker than evil and twice as strong.

—Dr. Franklin Xavier Harmony




Jax leaned over Lynne, his gaze right above her. Desire heated the air, and hunger glowed in her amazing eyes. But he needed more. “Say it,” he said softly.

She blinked, completely helpless to him, pride and strength flickering across her face and holding her still. No fear. Only need filled her expressive eyes. “Say what?”

“Ask me.” He lowered his face to within an inch of hers, covering her completely. The smell of fresh rain and woman filled his senses. “Beg me to release you.” He wanted her begging, but he needed her bound. Controlled. The darkness inside him, so much deeper after the fever, demanded to be appeased.

Her jaw firmed. “No.”

He stiffened. “No?”

She trembled against him, and inside, he roared. Just how far could he push? “This is your one chance. Ask now, and I’ll let you free. Stay stubborn, and no matter how hard you plead, I won’t release you. Until. I’m. Done.”

If the devil had an expression, she gave it to him. Meeting his gaze, pink skating cross her face, she slowly, deliberately, licked her lips. “Fuck you.”

The coarse words spoken in such an educated tone spurred him as nothing else could have. He shot down the bed and buried his face in her cunt. Soft and sweet—so feminine. She cried out a sound of surprise and struggled against him.

Forgetting gentle, he palmed her thighs and spread them wide. Then he gave one long, slow lick into her.

Tremors cascaded through her legs. “Oh God,” she moaned.

He smiled. The anger inside him, the emptiness, fought with humor. How did she do that? Could she appease him enough to halt the nightmares?

“Now you stop?” she moaned, bending her leg at the knee and nailing his ribs with her heel.

He instantly sank his teeth into her labia. Not hard enough to damage, but with definite intent.

She squawked and went still. Completely.

He lifted his head, resting his chin on her heated mound, the beast inside him waiting patiently. “You really want to play?”

Her eyes widened, and she slowly shook her head. As if sensing what he needed, her body softened into the bed.

Submission.

Yeah, he would’ve demanded it, but to have it given so freely by a woman with such strength made him relax. She watched him, eyes alert, lids half-closed.

He kissed her, right on her swollen clit. Her breath caught audibly. “You behave, and I’m going to make you very happy. Kick me again, move merely a muscle, and I bite.” To enforce his point, he nipped her thigh.

She jumped and then stilled. “I, ah, said I didn’t want to play.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t ask to be released when you had the chance, so it doesn’t matter what you want.”

Her eyes flared at that, with challenge and heat. He waited for her to say something, to object, yet she wisely remained silent. She’d probably ruled her little world until it had disintegrated, leaving her alone and lost. He could take her away for a while and get her out of her head, but she’d play the game his way.

“Any questions?” he drawled.

She narrowed her gaze and tightened her lips.

He chuckled against her clit, sending vibrations he could see through her abdomen.

She held still, stubborn woman, but couldn’t help a low gasp. “Please, Jax.”

Such a pretty please. He dropped his head and gave them what they both needed, going at her with focus and no mercy. She tried to hold still, she truly did, and he could feel the cost to her. But after merely a minute, she gyrated against him, moving with the fast rhythm he’d set. She broke with a low moan, her abdomen undulating, the waves riding her hard.

He prolonged her orgasm until her body stiffened against him, and then he rose lazily up her body. She blinked, eyes wide and slightly confused, satiated for the moment.

Grabbing a condom, he sheathed himself, grabbed her hip, and stroked deep inside her.

Her hips rose from the bed to meet him, and her mouth opened on a gasp. She struggled against the leather belt, her thighs slamming against his.

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