The All Encompassing: Shifter MC Novel (Pureblood Predator MC Book 1) (39 page)

Aaron’s glance flicks toward the front door. “Mia’s my bitch,” he says with a shrug.

Asshole! Biker asshole!
 

That’s what I’m thinking, and I know its obvious in the glare I’m giving him. Then Aaron raises his hands in an ‘I surrender’ gesture and says, “Hey Sparkles. I’m just fucking around. Nice to see that fighting spirit back in you. Mia’s not…we’re not together.”

“But you were. Right?”
 

None of my business, and I wait for him to tell me so.

“We were. A long time ago. Happy now? Or you want a fucking ring?”

I already have one of those, I think, remembering Connor and the golden eagle Star soaring overhead. I shake my head, take a deep breath, clasp my hands together near my chin and say, “No. I don’t need a ring. I need a long, hot shower. But do you think…could you…stand in the hall? Beside the door? While I shower?”

“Like what? Guarding you?”

“Yes,” I whisper, more than a little embarrassed and angry at myself. I was always the girl who scoffed if a guy opened a door for her. Got irritated if there was disagreement over splitting the bill on a first date. More than that, even. They called me a tomboy as a child—a ridiculous way of saying I was a girl who was too ‘boy-like’. I liked playing cops and robbers and lasers and if I built something out of Lego I’d be smashing it to bits moments later.
 

“Being independent doesn’t mean being afraid of intimacy,” one of my counsellors told me when they were trying to find me a home off the street. I told her to go fuck herself. And yet here I am, near begging this guy to stand guard outside my door so I can shower.
 

“Sure. I can do that,” Aaron says, breezing past me and up the stairs.
 

I follow, and on the top landing Aaron points to a door and leans against the wall outside. The bathroom is tiled in pink and purple and there’s a huge claw foot tub that makes me want a bath instead of a shower. But I remind myself Aaron’s waiting and turn on the water, running it scalding hot. I drop the soaked trench coat to the floor and step into the tub. The metal hasn’t warmed yet and chills the soles of my feet, and at first the water is tepid.
 

Old water heater
, I think, bracing for a cold blast. But soon the water heats up and I’m lifting my eyes into the hot stream, letting my tears mix with the water, feeling it run down my body in soothing, cleansing rivulets. The water in the bottom of the tub is tinged with red from the cut on the back of my head where the fuckers beat me down in my own home.
 

I scrub at the tender skin where the plastic zap-straps chafed me, then touch the bruise where the bastards kicked me in the ribs, and then I’m hit by a flash of blinding, blood-red rage that sends my heart racing. Those motherfuckers. Came into my home and snuck up behind me and smashed me down. Chickenshit motherfuckers. Didn’t even have the balls to face me straight on. I’m even inexplicably angry at Aaron, for killing them all and robbing me of vengeance.
 

He should have left one alive. For me to—

I stop myself. For me to what?
 

But I know.

I know what I would’ve done if I had the chance. I would have murdered those motherfuckers in any way I could. And the slower and bloodier and more brutal, the better. Are there more out there? More men associated with that boat the
Guardian
? Because if there are I want my shot at vengeance. I want my chance to bloody my hands with one of the assholes who stuffed me in a body bag and cuffed me to a metal pole.

We’re taught not to think this way. Taught we’re supposed to let go. Let the cops and courts handle it. But that’s bullshit. I know how the cops and courts work. Whose interests they serve. And right then I decide not to call it in. Not until I’m there to get inside the boat and see what I can find for myself.

I’m so involved in thinking about my abductors that I don’t notice the shadowy shape of a man standing on the other side of the shower curtain, watching me. I shriek and toss the curtain back, startling Aaron and making stagger into the far wall, his hands raised in that universal I-mean-no-harm gesture.

“Shitballs!” I scream, nearly out of my mind. “What the fuck, Aaron? I said wait
outside
, not creep in like a fucking psycho—”

“I know I’m sorry I know,” he says, clearly feeling lousy. Then his eyes trace down, and I realize he looking at my naked body. This gorgeous man is looking at me in a hungry, desire-filled way that makes me shiver with need, and there’s this vast dark space inside of me, empty, lonely, frightened, needing to be filled, and suddenly I want to be held, want a man close to me, want
this
man, and so I turn to him so he can see my tits, the water streaming hot over them, and the soft nest of hair on my pubic mound, and the entire shape of me, and I study him to gauge his reaction.
 

There’s a long moment when Aaron says nothing, only looks at me in a way I’ve never been looked at before, admiring, appreciating, as if there’s nothing on earth this man would rather do than look at me. A hungry gleam in his eyes makes my cunt swell and warm.
 

Then he looks me in the eye, moves close, lifts his hand up until his fingers are in the running water, and says, “Damn, Sparkles. That’s one hell of a hot shower.”

“I like it hot.”

“Me too. Me too.”
 

I lick my lips and Aaron leans his head to me and our lips meet at the edge of the cascading water. His lips are warm and sweet and our kiss begins tender, seeking each other out, but then he wraps an arm around my naked waist and pulls me tight to the edge of the tub, my feet sliding along the slick metal, and now his lips are pressing hard to mine in a way that’s nearly painful, and I shudder at how he kisses me, my cunt a white-hot bud of need, and I wrap my arms over his shoulders and open my mouth and let his tongue inside, he’s gentle and powerful all at once, and I feel a deep, barely contained desire in him, something wild begging to be free, and so I break from his kiss and say, “Take off your clothes.”

Aaron steps back, pulls his filthy, torn and bloodstained shirt over his head. He’s wearing only black denim button-fly jeans and a thin but sharp-looking metal chain around his neck. I drink in the sight of him: his powerful, stern jaw, his sculpted cheekbones and arctic-ice blue eyes, then down to his broad, heavily-muscled shoulders and over the stark outline of his solid pec muscles and tight nipples, then down still further to his chiseled abs and the line of hair leading down beneath his belt, and a wave of desire slams into me as I think about following that line down with my tongue, kissing and tasting—

He’s covered in elaborate ink. There’s an image of a moonlit forest on his left pec and a winged angelic creature on his right. There are symbols I’ve never seen before and a picture of the sun bursting from behind a snow-capped mountain and several more strange hybrid creatures, most with skull faces and wings and snarling jaws, some breathing flames and lightning. The only thing I recognize are the numbers one-eight-seven tattooed over his heart. The police scanner code for homicide.

“Tell me about them,” I say, pointing to the tattoos, curious but also wanting a little longer just to look at him.

“Some other time.”

I give him a ridiculous pouty face that I don’t think has a chance in hell of working, but he laughs and gives me a whatever shrug and says, “They’re mythical creatures. Ancient Greek. Some Egyptian. Others from the south: Aztec and Mayan and Incan. A few from the great animist traditions of Africa.”

“Is that an angel?” I ask, pointing to the one on his right pec.

“No. It’s a thunder spirit. I don’t believe in angels and demons. I don’t believe in hell, and I sure as fuck don’t believe in heaven.”

“What do you believe in?” I say, barely loud enough to be heard over the rushing water.

“Life.”

“Life?”

“Life. What we have here and now. In this moment. A life lived elemental, fast and full-on. I believe in death, too. As a part of life. Everything else is just…words. Noise. Distraction. Takes us away from our true selves.”
 

 
He’s nearly painted in blood: dried black in some places and still seeping red from a set of four painful-looking gashes on his chest. There are several puckered and white scars that look like bullet wounds and other long, ripping scars tracing across his chest, arms, abdomen.
 

“You’ve used your nine lives,” I say, hearing awe and fear in my voice.

“I’ve used way more than that,” he answers. “And besides, I’m not a cat.”

He reaches down, pops open his button fly and tears off his jeans.

I’m not a dainty spring flower. I’ve enjoyed a hefty cock or two.
 

But this man? He’s got a cock that could win trophies.
 

I clasp my hand over my mouth and loose a quick breath, then feel my nipples harden and my face blush bright red. Aaron’s slightly stiff. His cock hangs, long and lovely, above the perfect bulge of his balls. His thighs are muscled lean. I realize I’m staring like a school-girl…and that he’s waiting for an invitation.
 

I raise my arms and say, “Bring that here, Mr. Outlaw. Right this second.”

Aaron hops into the shower and we’re in each other’s arms, kissing hard, turning through the hot shower spray. My hands fall to the tight crescent of his ass, then my right slips around front to grip his heavy cock at the base. I can’t fit my fingers around him, and the thought of having such a large cock thrust into my swollen, wet cunt makes me quiver. He’s hard now, throbbing, and I run my hand slowly along his length, feeling a thick vein, then cup the tip of him in my palm and gently rub my hand in a slow circular motion.
 

Aaron growls deep in his chest as he kisses and nibbles at my ear, then down my neck, then he reaches up and cups my breast in his hand and brings my nipple to his mouth, raking his teeth across it gently. I stand on tip-toes to bring my breast closer for him while he wraps his other hand around my ass and pulls me tight. I continue stroking his gorgeous cock while I run my fingernails across his chest, careful to avoid the painful-looking scratch marks.
 

I’m jerking him off as best I can with one hand, and Aaron throws his head back and looses a deep, growling moan that is so sexy it makes me drop to my knees. The scalding shower water cascades around us, runs down his perfect cock and onto my face, and I use just my fingernails to hold him as I slowly put the tip of his cock in my mouth. He’s smooth and hard and perfectly shaped, and I feel the blood pounding through his cock. I push myself onto him, deeper, deeper, until I feel him hit the back of my throat, then I reach up and wrap both hands around his shaft and begin working slowly forward and back. He braces himself against the wall and arcs his hips forward, his knees bucking every time the head of his cock slams into my throat. He’s moaning now, that sexy, guttural growl I’m beginning to love so much, and I pull my mouth from him and he looks down and says, “I can’t fuck you. I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t fuck you.”

“Oh, you’re
gunna
fuck me,” I say, digging my fingernails into his cock. “I didn’t ride bitch an hour through the pouring rain wearing only a trench coat, then get on my knees to
not
get fucked by this great cock.”
 

But Aaron shakes his head and pulls slightly away.
 

“I can’t Lily,” he says, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. “You don’t understand. I just can’t.”

Which, all right, is not very sexy, and makes me think I shouldn’t have put his cock in my mouth before asking, “Is there something you need to tell me?”

“No,” he says, looking genuinely shocked. “It’s not that…it’s just…it’s dangerous. I can get a little out of control, y’know…when I’m really turned on.”

“Are you really turned on?”

He nods real fast, making me break into a wicked grin. I lift his cock up, kiss down the underside of it, bite and kiss and suck his balls gently, kiss back up his cock, then look him straight in the eye again. “Why don’t you show me?” I say. “Why don’t you show me what it’s like when you’re not in control.”

There’s a gleam in his eye, a bright, cold, wild gleam that makes me think I’ve made a big mistake, and for an instant it’s almost as if his incisor’s lengthen, sort of like a vampire’s but more like…a wild animal’s. A wolf’s. A powerful mix of desire and anticipation and even fear races through me as Aaron says, “You sure?”

“I’m su—”

But before I can even finish he’s lifting me, his hands under my arms. I’ve never seen a man move so fast, and for an instant I’m in the air in front of him; he’s fucking holding me suspended in the air like I weigh nothing, and then he places me on the tub and kisses me long and hard, biting my lips with an exquisite stinging pain and then he turns me so I’m facing the shower and lifts my left leg so it’s resting up on the sill of the tub.
 

Hot water showers against my back, runs down my spine and ass and right down my cunt, which is swollen and aching and driving me fucking insane, and I feel Aaron’s hard, throbbing cock press against my ass and for a moment I’m terrified he’s going to take me there, in the tight whorl of my asshole. I try and pull away from him but he grips me by the elbows and brings my arms back, rubbing his hot cock along my cunt, parting my soft, wet folds, and I hear him moaning and growling and I scream at him to fuck me, fuck me, and he laughs, a sharp, almost crazy-sounding laughter that makes me grin and push against him, and now I’m fucking begging, pleading, saying please fuck me please fuck me—

 
Aaron pulls his hips back. The tip of his cock edges inside me, stretching my cunt wide and oh god that’s only the tip of him what was I thinking I can’t take him all…and then he thrusts into me, long and slow and deep, his cock drilling down, further than I knew was possible, and my breath bursts from my lungs and I’m moaning and pressing my face into the cool tile and trying to keep it together, trying to take this gorgeous man’s cock.