“Mack,” I hear Maddox growl.
Then strong hands catch me under the armpits and haul me up and right over the sauce mess. I’m set on my feet on the other side of the counter, and Mack is in front of me.
“What happened?”
“I dropped the sauce. I’m sorry, I was cleaning it up, and—”
“Before that.”
“I went to the store.”
“Jaylah,” he warns.
“I saw Benito,” I blurt, and his body goes rock solid.
“What?” he growls.
“He said awful things, Mack . . .”
I look around and see Krypt is standing, Maddox too. Great, the biker mob is now listening in.
“What did he say?” Mack grinds out.
I drop my head, but he captures my chin and lifts it so my eyes are on his. “What. Did. He. Say?”
“He said you would pay. He said wouldn’t it be nice if he took what was yours and fucked it, maybe even put a baby in it.”
“Fuck,” Mack barks.
“He meant me, Mack. He’s . . . he’s going to try and get to me.”
His eyes flash and his jaw goes tight.
“Shit just got real, Mack,” Maddox growls. “We’re gettin’ involved.”
“Fuck,” Mack says again, and then he turns to me. “He hurt you?”
“No, he held me a little tightly, but . . .”
He reaches down and jerks my shirtsleeves up, and I tilt my head to see faint bruises on my arms.
“I’ll kill him.”
“Mack,” Krypt warns.
“No one fucks with me like that.”
“Mack.”
I stare between all of them, not sure what I’m supposed to say or do. I know telling Mack was the right thing, but I also don’t want anyone to get hurt because of it.
“I’m okay,” I whisper.
Mack turns to me and surprises me, and the room, it would seem by all the wide eyes. He curls his fingers around my chin, bringing me close. “No one touches you. No one fucks with me. He won’t get to you, Jaylah. I swear it.”
I swallow.
“I don’t want him to take me, and fuck me,” I whisper.
“Honey, he won’t.”
“And I don’t want him to let another man put a baby in me.”
“He won’t.”
“Mack, if he gets . . .”
He leans in closer. “He won’t.”
I close my eyes, and his fingers remain on my chin as I deep-breathe.
God, I hope he’s right.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Mack’s flesh drives into me.
He’s not making love to me, he’s not even fucking me; he’s riding me with a force so powerful I don’t even have it in me to open my mouth and scream.
My legs are around his hips, his face is buried into my neck and his fingers are tangled in my hair. If I turn, I can lick his bicep, which is riding awful close to my face, clenching and unclenching with each powerful thrust. My bed squeaks in protest, and aside from that, it’s the only sound in the room.
Then he pulls his cock from my depths and I’m hauled up to my knees. He’s in front of me now, his lean body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. That’s because he came in here more than an hour ago, and has been fucking me since. I’ve come three times and he still powered on, driving into me, fucking me until I couldn’t breathe.
“Suck me,” he rasps.
Oh. Yes, please.
I lower myself, taking his wet cock into my hands. It doesn’t turn me off to know he’s coated in me—it only makes me want it that much more. I lean down, running my tongue around his head and tasting him, tasting me, tasting us. He groans, my skin prickles, and I lower my mouth over him. Oh God, I can taste everything that is me, and it’s erotic. So erotic.
I suck myself off him, and his fingers find their spot in my hair again and he tugs. I lick and suck the tip before moving down and capturing his tight balls in my mouth. “Holy fuck,” he breathes as I suck them in, rolling them with my tongue and giving them a good deal of attention before releasing them and licking my way back up his shaft. Then I start sucking him, good and deep, letting his cock hit the back of my throat.
He’s thick, he’s long, and he’s about to burst. He’s so hard my teeth graze the soft skin along the sides of his length, and he hisses frantically. For whatever reason, he’s having trouble finding where he wants to go. I know exactly how to encourage him along. I’ve only ever done it once, when I was about eighteen, and the guy loved it when I was giving head.
I don’t know if Mack will love it, but it’s worth a shot.
I grip his ass cheeks, taking him deeper, distracting him. I release one cheek and subtly stroke his length, coating my finger in my own saliva. Then I reach down to his balls, stroking, fondling, and his groans increase. I suck him harder, my lips burning with the pressure, but I’m loving every moment of it.
Then I find his ass, and I push my finger in.
“What the fuck?” he barks suddenly, but I don’t release him.
I press it in, finding the little bundle of nerves all men have inside them, and I press at the same time as I suck, hard.
“Holy fuckin’—” he begins but it ends on a guttural groan.
I press again, sucking harder, and I repeat this until he’s yelling, yes, yelling to the roof. Then he’s coming, deep inside my mouth, shot after shot hitting the back of my throat. I can feel him pulsing around my finger and it turns me on. God, does it turn me on. His hips buck harder and he milks every last drop from his body before I slowly remove my finger and release his cock.