“Sure,” I said. “I need him by seven, though.”

“Sounds good,” he said. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall casually. “So how long are we gonna do this?”

“Do what?”

He raised a hand and gestured around the little apartment.

“Have you and Noah live here when you could be over at my house.”

“This is nice,” I protested. “It’s clean, it’s safe, and I don’t need to worry about the landlord attacking me in the night. It’s not happening between us, Ruger. Not. Happening.”

He didn’t respond, and I watched him warily. He was up to something … I could smell it. Suddenly he pushed off from the wall and walked over, catching me around the waist. Then he threw me over his shoulder, just like he’d done that weekend.

“No!” I yelled. “You don’t get to haul me off whenever you don’t get your way!”

He smacked my ass.

“Shut up,” he said. “You’ll wake up Noah. If he comes out here, he’ll see you like this, and then you can figure out how to explain it to him. If he asks me, I’ll tell him the truth. Mommy’s been a bad girl and she needs a spanking.”

“You asshole,” I hissed, kicking and smacking his back as hard as I could. Maybe I should take one of those kube-thingie classes. I could’ve shoved it up his big, dumb ass as he carried me out of the apartment and into the barn.

Ruger ignored my struggles, which pissed me off even more.

He carried me through the barn and up the stairs to the hayloft. I sensed a pattern. At least there wasn’t a bathroom up here, so no cold water spray. Small comfort. He dropped me down on a pile of straw so hard I lost my breath, looming tall as he unbuckled his belt and ripped it through the loops on his jeans. Then he folded it between his hands and snapped it. I glared at him, scuttling backward across the hay like a crab.

“I need to tie you up again?” he asked.

“We aren’t doing this,” I declared, even though my brain had already started the familiar shutdown his presence seemed to cause. God, I loved how he smelled. Not to mention the feel of his cock deep down inside … those little metal knobs made a hell of a difference. “Go to hell, Ruger.”

“Fuck no. We are definitely doing this,” he said. “Maybe I can fuck some sense into you. Words obviously don’t work.”

With that he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. I glared at him as he opened his fly and pulled off his jeans without another word. He knelt forward in the hay and caught my hands, pinning them on either side of my head. His head lowered as he scented me, kissing the fading bruises on my neck, nibbling and sucking like he’d done at the party.

Damned distracting. Shit, that felt good.

“They’re fading,” he said, pulling away just enough to meet my eyes. I didn’t like his expression, not at all. “Maybe I’ll give you some new ones. What do you think?”

“I think you’re a raging asshole.”

Ruger laughed.

“Yeah, well I think you’re a bitch, but my cock likes you, so we’ll figure something out.”

He caught my mouth again, but this time the kiss wasn’t hard and brutal. Nope, he changed tactics, because now his lips whispered over mine, nipping and sucking, drawing them apart gently as I tried to ignore him. Then he tugged my hands together over my head, freeing a hand to slide down between us. His fingers drifted across my stomach before reaching the top of the yoga pants I’d put on when I got home.

He starting pulling them down, and I realized this was it.

Ruger was about to win again, because Ruger always won, and I always let him because my body wanted him more than my brain hated him. I raised my hips, making it easier for him to take off my pants, which was just another nail in my fucking coffin. Then his fingers slid into me and I shuddered.

The damage was done already anyway, I justified. What difference would it really make? When he finally stopped kissing me, we stared at each other, panting. His fingers stroked down below, grazing my clit, and I twisted, wanting more.

“Jesus, you piss me off,” he murmured. “Good thing your cunt’s so fucking hot.”

“Don’t call it that.”

His lip twitched.

“Good thing your vagina’s so gosh-darned hot,” he whispered. “Because I really, really want to stick my penis in it and have repeated sexual intercourse, bringing us to a mutually satisfactory culmination of our desires. How’s that sound?”

“Almost dirtier,” I said, mouth quirking. Fucking ridiculous. All of it. I wanted to kill him and screw him and scream at him, so now he made jokes? I almost laughed, but his fingers rubbed right up against my G-spot while his thumb played with my clit. I couldn’t figure out how he made me so wet, so fast, every single time.

“Oh, it’s dirtier,” he told me, nuzzling me again, tugging on my ear with his teeth. “If I let go of your hands, are you gonna try to get away?”

I considered the question seriously.

“No,” I admitted. “But this is a one-time deal. We’re never having sex again after this time.”

Ruger gave me that lazy panther smile of his and didn’t answer. He did let me go, though, and I reached up, pushing him over and back down into the hay. Then I straddled him. I had one shot at this, I realized. One last chance to play with Ruger’s body. What should I do with it?

I went for his nipple ring, sucking it deep into my mouth as he groaned, hands twisting into my hair.

“That’s good, Soph,” he whispered. “But could you grab my dick while you’re at it? All I can think about, it’s fuckin’ killing me.”

I reached down and found him, hard steel bound in silk. I trailed my fingers over the head of his cock, catching the barbell, brushing back and forth.

“Holy fuck,” he groaned. “Too much, babe. Just the shaft for now, okay?”

His hand covered mine, showing me exactly how he wanted it—slow and deep, with a bit of a twist that should’ve been painful. I remembered he liked it rough so I didn’t hold back, and soon his hips arched under me.

That’s when I gave his nipple a final flick and started working my mouth down his stomach. Ruger wasn’t like some guy in a magazine ad. He had a model’s perfect abs, but he also had just enough hair to remind me I was dealing with a real man, not some pre-fabbed fantasy of clean, waxed sexuality. I rubbed my chin against the dip of his navel, savoring the power I held over him before going lower.

Some girls love giving head.

I’ve never been one of them, so I didn’t have a lot of experience to work with. What I did have was a hell of an imagination, and I’d been thinking about taking his cock into my mouth since that first night on his deck. I remembered sitting there, seeing him outlined in front of me through the thin flannel of his lounge pants, wanting to touch him more than anything.

Now I could.

Ruger tilted his head up, one arm folded back and under his neck, watching with hooded eyes as I rubbed the head gently against my cheek, considering my next move. I reached out my tongue and flicked the notch at the bottom of his glans. Then I swirled it around the little metal knob.

Ruger’s breath hissed and I felt a surge of pure, feminine power.

I licked it again, playing with his piercing before sucking him in hard. The metal post was weird, but it wasn’t like I planned to deep-throat him, so it didn’t matter. I started bobbing my head up, working him with my hand at the same time. His fingers burrowed deep into my hair, guiding me.

“You’re killing me, Soph,” he muttered, groaning. “Stop. I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.”

I liked that idea. For once it would be nice to see Jesse “Ruger” Gray lose control. But just when I’d decided to make it happen, his fingers tightened in my hair, dragging my mouth away from his cock.

“Ride me,” he ordered.

Oh, I could work with that …

I climbed over him, reaching down to guide him into my body. Even though I was probably wetter than I’d ever been in my life, taking his full length went slowly. From this angle I felt every inch of him, stretching me so wide it almost hurt. I stopped several times to let myself adjust, his eyes boring into me the whole while. When I finally had all of him I stilled, catching my breath.

Ruger still watched me, his face full of need and intensity and desire. He leaned up on one elbow, the flex of his stomach muscles almost painful against my oversensitized clit. He reached out and caught a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear, and then cupped my cheek, his face almost tender.

I closed my eyes.

Angry Ruger? Fine. Horny Ruger? I’d gotten used to that, too. But Ruger as a gentle lover? I didn’t have room for that in my head, not if I wanted to survive and move forward with my life. I started rocking back and forth on him, the movement ever-so-slight but almost painfully pleasurable. His hand dropped from my face to my hip, urging me to go faster, so I did.

It didn’t take long to bring him back to the edge. At some point I leaned forward on his chest for leverage, digging my nails into his pecs, which seemed to turn him on even more. Ruger liked a touch of pain, I decided, so I did my best to crush him with my inner muscles.

I’m generous that way.

I was close to coming myself when he lost patience, rolling me over and taking control again. He grabbed my legs, shoving them up and over his shoulders. Then he pounded me hard until I screamed out my orgasm.

Ruger followed right behind, and when he came, he called out my name.

I fell asleep with him wrapped around me, both of us on our sides, one of his hands resting lightly against my stomach. He’d gone downstairs and grabbed a blanket, covering the hay and creating a nest for us.