Marked as His (7 page)

She wet her lips.

“I’m far from finished with you yet, love, but I need…” he shoved aside a few items in the drawer until he came out with a foil packet. One of the only condoms she had.

It was impossible to look away from him as he tore open the packet with white teeth and rolled the rubber over his length. Every twitch of his muscle beckoned to her. She stared up at him, wetness pooling between her thighs.

As if knowing this, he went right for the juices. Running his finger through them, he painted her clit, inner lips, and down to her entrance. Holding her gaze, he leaned over her. She bucked against his hand, wanting—no, needing—so much more.

For a moment her mind skidded on reality like tires on black ice. She stared up at Paxton, wondering how the hell she’d turned from kidnapper to sex partner. Her threats would never hold any weight now.

She looped her arms around his neck and yanked him down. His kiss was bruising, his huge body trapping.

Damn, it felt so fucking good. She’d never be happy with a normal guy. Car wash owner, accountant, corporate CEO? Fuck no. What she wanted was tattoos, muscle, and enough beard to redden her skin.

Paxton shoved his hands under her ass and shifted between her thighs. He lifted her to his lips as if she were the most tempting treat. Without removing his gaze from hers, he lapped her pussy until she started to climb again.

Her inner thigh muscles shook. She dug her fingers into his hair and guided him, taking what she wanted. He groaned and pulled his mouth free.

“I could fucking eat you all day. But I need to bury myself inside you.” As if to prove his point, he speared her with two fingers. The invasion sent her flying. Release stole her sanity. Her pussy clenched on his fingers, once, twice…then on air.

In a second he was poised at her center, his expression fierce and eyes black. “This isn’t going to be a one-time deal, Santana. Understand?”

Did she? All she needed was fucked—long and hard by this tattooed god.

She nodded, arched upward.

And joined them together
.

•●•

Paxton couldn’t stop running his tongue over his lips, tasting Santana’s delicious flavors. He hadn’t had nearly enough time to taste her properly, but he planned to remedy that.

They had all night.

He jerked his hips, dragging his cock through her tight inner walls until he felt the need to roar. Her liquid heat enveloped him. Between that and her snuggling next to him while confiding her most painful memories, he was in too deep.

Hell, he wanted deeper.

He yanked her hips into him. “Put your leg on my shoulder,” he panted.

She did, and he sank his teeth into her full calf. So womanly, so sexy. His balls were never going to be the same.

The broken bedpost flopped and the headboard smacked off the wall.

Her breasts bounced and small squeaks burst from her. He slowed, unwilling to go too fast. He’d told her this wasn’t a one-night stand, but who knew what she’d try with him next. Maybe calling the cops on him, as she’d thought of doing to Tommy.

He stole a kiss, swirling his tongue over hers until he felt her pussy squeezing his cock to the point of pain. He covered one breast with his hand and kneaded it as he moved his hips with slow, maddening thrusts.

“Paxton,” she breathed.

“Higher. Go higher with me. God, I wanna be so high with you.” He’d never been into drugs but this was better than anything he’d ever done as a kid.

Her hair spilled over her breasts, over his fingers. He tweaked her nipples until they were dark pink points. Her nails scraped his ass then up to his shoulders.

Then she did it—moved that certain way. Angling her hips and taking him a fraction deeper.

Lights burst in his vision and he threw his head back as need rushed up from his balls. He came in short, fast bursts, unable to breathe, looking into Santana’s eyes as she came apart around him.

•●•

Santana slipped a long T-shirt over her head and contemplated crawling back between the sheets with Paxton. As she let her gaze travel over his long, tattooed body, she came fully awake.

Pushing a hand through her hair, she turned from the bed. What had she been thinking to sleep with him?

She barely knew him. A fucking club guy, to put the cherry on the cake. Damn. How was she going to get out of this?

She could throw his ass out the door and tell him to have a nice life.

Cuffing him to the bed again held some appeal.

Or she could just call the cops and have him removed from her condo.

“I swear you’re loud when you’re thinking,” he mumbled.

Her gaze snapped to him. One eye was cracked from under his arm. Her body fired on all cylinders at the sight of dark eyes and the shadow of beard she could still feel with savory deliciousness on her skin.

“Maybe I’m just thinking of getting into the shower.”

He shot a look at the clock. “At four a.m.? Nice try, love.”

After spending almost twenty hours with him, she felt strangely close to him. Like being trapped in an elevator with people. You heard their stories and learned their fears.

Except Paxton hadn’t poured out his guts as she had.

She went for the cuffs.

Before she could reach the rings, he was on her. Huge body slamming her into the mattress and pressing her down. She kicked but her legs were firmly trapped under his long ones.

“Get…off.” She could scarcely draw breath.

He leaned over her, breath hot and not at all fetid like some guys at four a.m. Actually
,
he smelled a little like…her.

Lust speared her and she fought it off.

“I have to work.”

“You don’t go in until seven. We have a few hours.”

“To what? Go see my father?”

He sighed, the force strong enough to peel the skin off her ear. While he moved back an inch, he didn’t release her. She was his prisoner now. The thought irritated and thrilled.

“You should see him, Santana.”

She didn’t expect his calm tone. What was it about Paxton that continually threw her for loops?

“What will my seeing him achieve? He’ll dislike me after I give him the setdown he deserves.”

Paxton nodded, raking bristly hairs over her shoulder. “From what you’ve told me, he does deserve it. But you owe it to yourself—and him—to say those things.”

She went still, comforted by his weight though she couldn’t bear it for much longer without calling 911. “You think I should go tell him off?”

“Yeah.”

“But…you aren’t defending his actions?”

“I don’t know his reasons for turning out you and your mother. But whatever it was, you need to hear it. I see it eats at you, Santana.”

Those damn tears were too close to the surface again. She twisted her head into the bedcovers scented of her and Paxton.

He rolled off and took her with him, pulling her flush to his hard body. She hated to admit how good he felt and how much comfort his big chest provided. Hell, she’d been alone too long.

“You misjudged me, didn’t you?” he asked softly, stroking her arm and raising ripples.

“How?”

“You thought I was a dirtbag redneck MC guy coming to retrieve you. You thought you could outsmart me, overpower me.”

“I did do those things.”

“Maybe a little, yeah.”

Setting her lips into a fine line, she leaned up to glare at his handsome, roguish face. “Are you saying I’m not smart?”

“You are. I admit you tricked me into believing I held authority over you. That I’d get you back to the club.”

“And when you thought I was going to ink you.”

He stared at her for a long beat. “You would have done that, Santana. I have no question that you would have gone through with that.”

She swallowed hard. Inking someone seemed trivial compared to some of the things she’d done to deter the welding shop guys.

Paxton slid his fingers under her hair and probed the base of her skull. The action was so saccharine sweet it made her fillings ache. “I mean you thought I was the devil coming here to steal you off on my bike. But you were wrong.”

“I don’t know you.” Though she said the words, they weren’t entirely true. She knew he could have overpowered her and bent her to his will at any moment during this kidnapping debacle. Instead he’d been patient and tolerant of her small attempts to torture him.

He arched a brow. Too easily she recalled holding his gaze as they both came apart—several times, in fact. Luckily he’d carried a few condoms in his wallet because they’d emptied her nightstand drawer.

“What do you know about me?” he asked.

“You’re a tattoo artist. Your little brother is training as apprentice.”

He smiled crookedly and her heart stuttered at the sight of the crease around his mouth. “And?”

“You’re strong.”

As if to demonstrate, he flexed his arm, squeezing the breath from her. “Is that all?” he prompted after a minute.

“You smell nice.”

He took up rubbing her arm again, soft and slow. Up and down, trailing callused fingers and making her nipples peak. “You smell like candy. What else?”

“You taste good.”

He growled. Hooking a finger under her chin, he drew her mouth to his. As his warm lips robbed her of the last of her resistance, moonlight shimmered through the sheer curtains and fell over him. He was turned to blue-gray stone but all man—flesh and blood.

She’d been wrong about a lot when it came to Paxton. Mostly she’d underestimated his ability to get into her psyche and trip her. Not only with his kisses and touch and the amazing way he ate pussy but with her worry about her father.

Maybe Paxton was right—she needed some closure. As she straddled his hips, she dipped to kiss him. Her hair enclosed them in darkness but up close his eyes glittered. “I’ll call off work and you can take me to Tommy.”

Approval was easy to read even in the dark. “Good. But there’re a lot of hours until dawn. And you still have to give me that tattoo.”

“Maybe it’s you who inks me.”

When Paxton cupped Santana’s pussy through her panties, she made a hissing noise. He eased his touch, concern filling him. “Getting sore?”

“A little. I haven’t had this much sex in a long time.”

“Since the cop?”

“Maybe.”

Damn, he didn’t want to hear that. He couldn’t take his hands off her now. He wanted her to only think of him. But he stroked her with butterfly softness, running his fingertip over the bumps through the wet crotch of her panties. Dawn was streaming into the room, airbrushing her skin until she looked like a golden goddess.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Your skin glows.”

She smacked him. “Don’t get sappy on me now. I’m still your warden.”

Staring at her through half-lidded eyes, he nodded. “I can live with that.” For now. The past day had been a fun detour from his mission but the fact was, the Hell’s Sons would be looking for him today. He’d be surprised if they weren’t watching the condo now.

He rubbed his beard.

“I’m going to shower.” She disentangled herself from his arms and slid to her feet. He watched her pad across the room, half in love with her round ass.

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, my shower’s small. We won’t fit. Why don’t you get breakfast? Cereal and milk in the kitchen.”

He lifted a brow. “You’re trusting me to walk around your house?”

She lifted a sun-kissed shoulder. “The worst you can do is escape.”

“Maybe I have Stockholm Syndrome.”

When she laughed, he couldn’t help but smile too. She disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door. The firm click shutting him out irritated him more than it should.

He got up and found his pants then walked into the main house. Flicking the blinds in the front windows aside, he peered into the street. Only his bike sat there. Apparently his brothers weren’t that concerned for him.

After searching her cupboards he found a box of healthy cereal, milk, and a black pottery bowl. He sank to a stool at the counter and dunked the flakes with the back of his spoon. He had to admit, this was out of his normal routine. Love ’em and leave ’em before they woke up was more his speed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had breakfast at a woman’s house let alone slept all night with her.