Legions (Georgia Smoke #7)

One

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“Provoking me is dangerous.”

Capri

My bright pink nails ran over the teeth marks that were a slight shade of blue just over my left nipple in the mirror, causing me to smile. It was tender to the touch, but I loved thinking about why it was there. Thatcher’s eyes had been darker than usual, and his gaze disturbed when he’d gotten home. I’d come to recognize the different moods of Thatcher Shephard and learned what he needed with each one.

Last night he’d needed a distraction. I had given him one.

Lifting my gaze, I watched as he walked into the bathroom behind me. I dropped my hand, not wanting to draw his attention to the bruised imprint of his teeth that he’d left on me. While I loved being marked by him, he didn’t handle it as well. Anyone hurting me was something Thatcher could not deal with rationally. That included himself.

His eyes met mine in the reflection. The hungry gleam in them made me shiver. There was no need to soothe his internal demons this morning. I’d done that last night. The way he was looking at me now was pure desire. Having this man want me the way he did still didn’t make sense to me. How was it that I had gotten so lucky? There didn’t seem to be an answer to that question.

“You weren’t in bed,” he said in a thick raspy voice.

“I was going to come back,” I assured him.

His eyes dropped, slowly moving down my bare back. He rarely let me sleep in clothing, but then, most of the time, I passed out after wild, incredible sex.

He tilted his head slightly as a pained expression crossed his face. “I spanked you too hard.”

I laughed. “I disagree. I liked it. If I remember correctly, I begged you to do it harder.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” he told me. “I don’t like hurting you.”

Our eyes met again in the mirror. “Thatcher,” I used a firm tone. “I got off on it. You didn’t hurt me.”

He closed the distance between us until his large, calloused palm covered my right butt cheek. “It’s wrong for me to blemish your perfect creamy skin.”

I smirked. “That’s one of the things I love about you. All the wrong things you do to me.”

The flare in his eyes should probably be a warning, but it had become something that I craved. It excited me.

“Little doll,” he murmured, lowering his head until his lips brushed against my ear. “Provoking me is dangerous.” His fingertips barely brushed over my bottom back and forth.

I started to open my mouth and taunt him more when his gaze snapped to my breast. The narrowing of his eyes and tightening of his jaw told me the bite mark was upsetting him more than whatever he had left on my butt.

I lifted my hand and cupped my breast, then ran my nails over the bruised spot. “It makes me feel claimed.”

His gaze swung up to meet mine. I watched as his nostrils flared. Taking a step forward so that his chest pressed against me, I sighed with pleasure from the contact.

“There was too much shit in my head last night. Coming home to you was what I needed, but I got too rough.”

I sighed and reached for his arms, pulling them around me. “How many times are we going to have this conversation? I like it. No, I love it when you get rough.” I moved one of his hands up to cup my marked breast. “Just think. Today, when I’m walking around, underneath my clothes, I’ll bear your bite mark on my body.”

A sadistic gleam settled in his gaze. I knew it would. Talking to Thatcher’s more twisted side was easier on mornings like this one—the kind where I wake up with the proof of our night left on me.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” he said huskily.

I nodded. “Yep. I am.”

A deep chuckle vibrated from his chest, and I sank against him with a contented purr.

“Here I was planning on going to my knees and kissing your abused ass, but you go and say shit that means I’m gonna have to fuck you,” he said with his eyes on my body as he caressed my boobs and lower stomach. “Bend over, little doll. Hands on the counter. Ass out.”

I licked my bottom lip and gave him a wicked grin. “My favorite kind of morning,” I replied, doing as he instructed.

The way his eyes brightened reminded me of a black flame. I wasn’t sure just how deep his darkness went, but I had seen the good. He wasn’t the evil monster he thought he was. A man with true evil couldn’t love someone the way he did me. The way he agonized over causing me any pain proved just how undemon-like he was.

His hands gripped my hips as he stared down at my butt. I watched as he leaned down to press a kiss on the slightly tender area left from his spanking. He brushed his lips over it several times, and then the tip of his tongue trailed over it, leaving a warm, wet streak that caused me to shiver.

When he straightened, his eyes lifted to meet mine in the mirror. At moments like this, his unhinged side slid out of his confines and stared at me through his gaze. It was close—the turning point. I waited, holding my breath with anticipation, watching for the flip that was coming.

There it was, and I sucked in a breath just as his hand shot out to grab a fistful of my hair, pulling my head back. His fingers from the other hand dug into the plumpness of my unharmed butt cheek. A long, deep growl came from him as he plunged into me, pushing my body forward with the force of it while he yanked tighter on the hold he had on my hair.

“FUUCK! It’s still slick from my cum last night,” he said through clenched teeth.

I cried out as the small, sharp pain from last night’s activities had left me sore. When he was like this, I didn’t have to worry he’d stop because he feared he was hurting me. He was too far gone to let that affect him. It also heightened the experience when I could watch his beautiful face so lost in pleasure. For a man who never looked vulnerable, in these moments, he did.

“You’re wincing.” His tone was raspy. “Sore from last night’s fucking.”

I met his hard thrusts, rocking back and forth in rhythm with him. “Yes,” I panted.

He let go of my bottom and slid his palm up my back. “This sweet little pussy should have been licked this morning, but you had to make me crazy. Now you’re gonna take my cock, little doll.”

I moaned, trying not to let my eyes flutter closed so that I didn’t miss a moment. Our bodies connecting, the wet sounds of him moving in and out of my drenched hole, and the smell of sex surrounded us. I would never get enough of this. Of him.

“Such a good girl,” he praised. “That angelic face, sweet smile.” His eyes heated as a smirk formed on his lips. “Only I get the little slut. Just me. My perfect little slut craving my dick so bad she wants it even after I abused it.”

“Oh god,” I gasped. He knew hearing him call me his slut set me off. “Please, harder,” I begged, so very close now.

He let go of my hair, and his hand reached down to wrap around my neck. His movements became faster as his name tore from me.

“When I fill this cunt with my load, you’re not gonna shower. I want your panties after you’ve walked around all day sticky and wet.”

That was it. My body jerked beneath his, and I screamed as the pulsing bliss of my orgasm broke free.

“FUCK! GAH DAMN!” Thatcher shouted, not taking his eyes off me. Somehow, he drove even deeper as he chased his own release. His body shuddered, and his mouth fell open as he held my gaze. It was always in this moment that he was the most beautiful. Completely exposed and unguarded. I’d been raised to think that loving anyone or anything too much made it an idol. If that were true, then Thatcher Shephard was mine.