Chapter 3: Raw Need
The fire roared, mirroring the inferno in Jace’s veins. Vera’s sharp bite sent a jolt of pure, electric lust straight to his cock. The coppery tang of his blood mingled with the lingering whiskey on her tongue—a dark, primal cocktail. Her command, ‘Fuck what Adam thinks,’ wasn’t whispered; it was a demand, low and guttural, vibrating against his lips like a challenge. It shattered the last vestige of his restraint.
His hands, calloused and ink-stained, slid from her waist like lightning. He didn't fumble. He didn't tease. He gripped the thin, damp fabric of her bikini bottoms where they hugged the flare of her hips. A single, brutal rip tore through the night, louder than the fire’s crackle. The ruined fabric dangled uselessly from his fingers before he discarded it into the shadows near the firepit.
Vera gasped, a sharp intake of breath that wasn’t fear, but raw anticipation. The cool night air hit her exposed, smooth skin. He saw it then, the delicate stars inked along the sharp V-lines leading down from her hips, a constellation pointing the way. The sight punched the air from his lungs. She was completely bare, pressed against him, her small, firm breasts crushed against his chest, her nipples hard peaks beneath the thin, damp top. The heat radiating from her core was an almost physical force against his thigh.
"Christ, Vera," he growled, his voice thick and ragged. He crushed her closer, one massive hand spanning the small of her back, fingers tracing the subtle bumps of the moon phases tattooed down her spine. The other hand slid down, rough fingertips skimming the curve of her ass, possessively kneading the firm flesh. His erection, thick and straining against his jeans, pressed insistently against her belly. "You sure you know what you're playing at?"
Her pale green eyes locked onto his, burning with defiance and a hunger that matched his own. She ground her hips against the hard ridge in his jeans, a deliberate, filthy friction. "Quit fucking talking, Jace," she breathed, her voice husky. "Or are you scared?"
A dark laugh rumbled in his chest. Scared? He was fucking terrified. Terrified of what he wanted to do to Adam Cunningham’s little sister. Terrified of how badly he needed it. Terrified of the way she looked at him now, not like a kid sister, but like she wanted to be devoured. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of chlorine, smoke, and pure Vera. His teeth scraped the delicate skin where Caleb’s lips had been moments before, a primal claim. "Scared isn't the fucking word, princess."
His hands moved with purpose. One slid back up to fist in her long, black hair, tilting her head back, exposing her throat. The other plunged between her legs, his thick fingers sliding through her slick folds with no preamble. She was drenched, hot and ready. A low moan tore from her lips, muffled against his shoulder as he found her clit, circling the swollen bud with rough, demanding pressure. Her hips bucked against his hand, seeking more.
"Fuck, you're soaked," he muttered, the filthy words hot against her skin. He pushed two fingers deep inside her, stretching her tight channel. She cried out, her inner muscles clenching hard around his knuckles, the ink swirling over them seeming to come alive in the firelight. "That's it. Take it. Tight little cunt." He pumped his fingers, curling them, finding that sweet spot inside her, relentless. Her body bowed, pressing harder against him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her fingernails dug into his biceps, scraping over dense tattoos.
He withdrew his fingers, glistening with her arousal. He brought them to his lips, his hazel eyes locked on hers, blazing with raw hunger. He licked them clean, slowly, savoring her taste – salt, musk, Vera. A shudder ran through her. The deliberate obscenity was almost more intimate than what came before.
His hands went to his belt buckle, fingers moving with practiced, impatient speed. The clink of metal was loud. The zipper rasped down. He shoved his jeans and boxer briefs down just enough to free his cock. It sprang out, thick and heavy, the head flushed a deep red, glistening with a drop of pre-cum. It looked obscenely large against Vera’s petite frame.
He gripped the base, the spiderweb tattoo on his knuckles stark. He pressed the blunt head against her slick entrance, nudging, teasing only for a heartbeat. Her hands flew to his shoulders, bracing. Her eyes were wide, dark with need and a flicker of apprehension at the sheer size of him. He saw it, and it only made him harder.
"No going back, Vera," he warned, his voice a low snarl. "You wanted this. You fucking started it."
"Don't stop," she gasped, her voice breaking. "Just... fuck me, Jace. Please."
The "please" undid him. With a groan that was almost animal, he hooked her leg high around his hip, the barbed wire tattoo on her right arm catching the firelight as she clung to him. He thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful, searing stroke.
"FUCK!" Vera screamed, arching violently against him. The stretch was intense, burning, overwhelming. He felt her inner walls clamp down, trying to adjust, incredibly hot and tight around his invading length. He held himself deep, buried inside her, grinding slightly, letting her feel every throbbing inch. He could feel her trembling against him, her breath coming in sharp, shallow pants against his neck. The stars on her hips were pressed flush against him.
"Christ, you're tight," he ground out, his own control fraying. "Like a fucking vice." He pulled back slowly, dragging every ridge of his cock against her sensitive walls, eliciting a whimper. Then he slammed back in, hard and deep. A choked cry tore from her throat. "That's it. Take it all, baby."
He set a punishing rhythm, pulling almost all the way out only to drive back into her wet heat with bruising force. Each powerful thrust rocked her small body, the log bench scraping against the stones. The wet, rhythmic sounds of their joining were obscenely loud in their private enclave – the slap of skin, the slick slide of his cock plunging into her depths, her ragged cries. Her breasts bounced with each impact, the spiderweb tattoos beneath them stark against her pale skin.
His hand fisted in her hair again, pulling her head back sharply. "Look at me," he demanded. Her pale green eyes, dazed with pleasure and shock, met his. He saw the tears welling at the corners, the raw vulnerability mixed with the fierce defiance. He saw the exact moment her body surrendered completely, the pain giving way to pure, unadulterated sensation. "Yeah," he growled, thrusting harder, deeper, feeling her inner muscles begin to flutter wildly around him. "Come on, princess. Come on my fucking cock."
He shifted, angling his hips. The next thrust hit something deep, something that made her entire body convulse. A sharp, keening wail ripped from her throat. Her eyes rolled back, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as the orgasm crashed over her. Her pussy clenched around him like a fist, pulsing violently, pulling him impossibly deeper.
The feel of her coming, the hot, milking spasms, shattered Jace’s control. With a guttural roar that tore from his chest, he hammered into her twice more, brutally deep, before burying himself to the root. He held her hips hard against his as he exploded, rope after hot, thick rope of cum pumping deep inside her tight, quivering channel. His vision whited out at the edges, the only sensations the blinding heat of release and the frantic, rhythmic clenching of her cunt around his still-pulsing cock.
He slumped forward, his forehead pressed against her shoulder, his massive frame trembling with the aftershocks. Her body felt limp against his, her breathing ragged and shallow, her leg still hooked over his hip. The fire crackled beside them, casting long, dancing shadows over their tangled forms. The air reeked of sex, smoke, whiskey, and sweat. His cock, still half-hard and slick with their combined fluids, remained buried deep inside her warmth.
Neither moved. The world outside the firelight ceased to exist. Adam. Caleb. The party. All gone. There was only the frantic hammering of two hearts, the shared heat, and the irrevocable, terrifying line they had just crossed. Jace felt Vera’s small hand tentatively touch the back of his neck, her fingers tracing the intricate tattoos there. He didn’t lift his head. He couldn't. The reality of what they'd just done, the violence and the sheer fucking ecstasy of it, slammed into him with the force of a truck.
Adam’s little sister. Covered in his cum. Fucked raw against a log by his firepit.
"Jace..." Vera’s voice was a fragile whisper, thick with spent passion and something else. Uncertainty? Fear? He felt the slight tremor run through her.
He didn't answer. He just held her tighter, his grip almost painful, anchoring them both in the devastating aftermath, the firelight flickering over the evidence staining her inner thighs. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the greedy crackle of the flames consuming the wood, mirroring the chaos they’d just unleashed.