“You were asking for it.”
“Yes, I was,” I said. “And you didn’t have any trouble dishing it out.”
She shrugged. “I can give you some more if you want.”
“Please don’t. This face is all I’ve got going for me.”
She looked me over, taking in my leathers, my wet hair.
“I’m sure it’s not the only thing.”
I laughed again. She was working it. Don’t think for a second I didn’t know I was being played. I knew exactly what was going on. The thing is, I wanted to get played by her.
“What’s your name?” I said.
“You first,” she said.
I shook my head. The poor thing. She had no idea what she was getting into. She was like a lamb to the slaughter. She’d just escaped Wolf. Little did she realize, she was tangling herself up with a monster ten times worse. Believe me when I tell you, whatever she was running from, whatever Wolf tried to force her to do, I would make it look like child’s play. The things I wanted to do to her, she’d cry out for mercy, she’d scream my name, and the more she begged, the harder I’d come.
If it was Wolf’s bedroom antics that she was fleeing, she was in for a rude awakening. I’m a piston-fired, turbo-charged, orgasm machine. I can out-fuck a herd of stallions. I can out-pump a locomotive. If she came to me hoping for mercy, she wouldn’t find any.
She thought she was playing me? Please.
It was like taking candy from a baby. She had something I wanted, and I was going to have it. I had to have it.
I put my drink down.
“My name’s Jackson,” I said. “Jackson Jones.”
“Jackson Jones?”
“Jackson-motherfucking-Jones,” I repeated, grinning.
She smiled, and I swear there was a hint of seduction in those lips.
“I’ve got a question for you, Jackson-motherfucking-Jones.”
She could ask anything she liked. All I could think about was bending her over the counter and sliding my bare cock into her naked womb till it throbbed hot semen into her. I wanted to fill her so full of my come it would be dripping down her legs for weeks. I wanted skin to skin, full contact, wet orgasm. I wanted to put a baby inside her. And in exchange for my help, she was going to let me.
“What is it?” I said.
She hesitated. She was scared. I could tell she’d been crying. I felt a pang of pity for her, but the desire flooding through my veins was stronger.
“Last time you met me, you said you didn’t give a fuck about Wolf Staten.”
“I remember.”
“Well, my question is, did you mean that?”
I let out a little laugh. My words were coming back to haunt me. I’d played it cocky and now she was calling me on it.
“That depends,” I said.
“On what?”
“On what’s in it for me.”
She looked deeply into my eyes as if trying to read my soul. She was on the verge of tears. She needed my help or she was dead. We both knew it. It had taken a lot for her to ask my help, she was a proud woman and I respected her for that.
But I wouldn’t help her for free. That’s not the way it worked. I needed something from her, and I needed her to offer it.
“Well then,” she said, “I guess I have one more question for you.”
“Ask what you want. Believe me, I’ve got nothing to hide.”
She looked into my eyes. “Are you a good man, Jackson Jones?”
It wasn’t a game. It was a serious question and she meant it. Her life depended on it. I looked around the bar. The bartender was cleaning glasses. The other patrons had scarcely noticed her.
“No one’s ever accused me of being a good man,” I said.
“But you know the answer,” she insisted. “Deep down, you know. If you were to die today, what would people say of you? Would they say you were good?”
I looked into those deep, sapphire eyes. They were hypnotizing. She had a strange power over me, a force of attraction that was otherworldly. Maybe it was because death was on my mind, mortality. I don’t know, but something about her felt surreal, like she’d been sent to me from another world.
As my eyes drank her in, a burning rage coursed through my veins like molten metal. I wanted to own her, I wanted to dominate her completely, make her mine. My property. I wanted to plunge my cock so deep inside her she’d never even think of another man again. I wanted her to remember my name to her dying day. I wanted to ruin her for all others. It shocked me how violent my passion for her was. I’d never felt that for anyone else.
The simplicity of her question made me answer honestly.
“All I can tell you,” I said, “is that for all the bad I’ve done, I never meant any harm.”
It wasn’t like me to say that. She’d disarmed me. I never gave anyone a glimpse of my true self. It was yet another surprise.