Succumbing to the heat of his unspoken claim, Jackie gasped breathily in his ear when he slid the expensive dress down, causing it to pool at her stomach as he lifted her up and turned her around, bending her against the wall.

Nipping her lip when he slid her panties down over her thighs like he was unwrapping an exquisite gift, she shuddered at the feel of his fingers slipping inside of her. Gasping when she felt the warmth of his own thighs pressed against her ass next, her sex answered him with wet.

Without skipping a beat, he eased his fingers from her, and slowly, achingly inched the hard length of him inside of her. The walls of her sex closing around him, she panted as the speed of his strokes accelerated, subduing her moans to throaty mews as his thighs smacked against her ass.

Gentle at first, his inner animal slowly began to take the wheel, his hands holding her hips with a commanding grip. Then he gestured her up, near-crushing her breasts against the foam-green wall of the dressing room as he pressed his chest against her back and pounded her from behind.

Seizing, Jackie strained against the burst of pleasure climbing her limbs, until she couldn't withstand another second, her pleasure point throbbing with release with every thrust. And then the ecstasy of his claim tumbled out of her, raining down over him as she half-whimpered, half moaned, her sex clamping around him with each wave of electricity shaking her against him.

He came then, too, ramming her with fevered thrusts until he burst, painting the inside of her with strings of seed that quickly changed course and glazed her thigh. Sweaty and panting, he fell against her, nipping her skin lustily as he regained himself.

It was a minute before their consciousness returned to the dressing room they'd just marked with their union, and an even longer minute before he spoke.

“There's no turning back now, babe.”

Literally.

A strange feeling circled Jackie's belly. Not one of regret or even fear, just... something new, maybe a sense of realization that this demi-god of a man, whom she thought she needed to keep at arms length had no intentions of letting her go. There was really no point in running. No point in the inner diva prevailing over her ability to detach.

All that was left was acceptance.

Liam

That was... unexpected. So much so, it was all Liam could do to maintain his bearings when he finally drove her home. He'd thought he'd lost her, but apparently that wasn't the case. Maybe there was something to the old saying about letting something go to see if it came back to you. Because he had. Let her go, that is. And in the end, she'd surrendered her butterfly wings to him. Let him mark her with an animal lust he'd never given so heartily to any woman before. Ever.

He hadn't wanted to give in, certain she'd play some sort of game, or that she was only giving in to momentary lust that she'd surely wind up shying away from after the fact. But when he'd walked her to her door, she'd stood up on her tippy toes and given him a meaningful kiss that ensured him something had changed in her. That she'd actually accepted what was really going on between them.

His head was reeling after that, but it soon settled into a warm glow when he took a left on the fairway back towards the studio.

Still no call from his agent, yet, but he wasn't losing hope. He'd get the part. His shop alone would ensure that. Still didn't stop him from sitting at the edge of his seat about the whole thing. He'd never been a particularly patient person. Determined, sure. But waiting for anything had always been painful for him.

Pulling onto the freeway, he cranked up the volume on Soul Cry, singing along with a cracking voice as his fingers kept the beat on the steering wheel.

It was a nice night.

The weather was unseasonably warm, and he got the girl, by all appearances. How they were going to handle it from here was anyone's guess, but she was his now, and that's all that really mattered. He'd never been the type to pander to his father's whims, and it wasn't like his dad really gave a fuck about Donna, either way.

She was an unusually, youthful looking woman in her forties who'd kept herself in shape and had a submissive enough demeanor to suit his tastes, right now.

Liam was even beginning to like her, and that kind of sucked because he didn't relish the thought of having to watch the fall out when his father eventually ditched her for a shinier model.

With any luck, she was wise enough to know what she was getting into and savvy enough to milk it for all it was worth. His father didn't deserve anything better. Any woman in her right mind would make solid use of the credit cards he passed along to them until the day their access card to his fortune was revoked.

Turning off of the fairway, he leaned back, eager to get in the house and take a load off. Not that the fitting was particularly strenuous, but the lovemaking to follow had taken a lot out of him. It was hard not giving her his all. Every time he touched her was like the first time. Even running his fingers over her gave him a thrill that coiled in his gut and roused his inner animal.

Flicking his gaze to his right, he made to turn into the studio of his lot when he saw the assholes congregating out front.

Little Mike's riders.

So the fuckers were back.

Pulling up, he saw that it was much worse than that, and jerking his car to a stop, he released his belt, and hopped out of it, tucking the keys in his pocket as he half-ran over to the building. The motherfuckers had smashed his windows and had the nerve to have a few brews while they waited for him to return.

His gaze flicking downward, he saw that they'd smashed some of their beers there, too. So they'd been there awhile. Fucking assholes.

“You want action, bitches? Come get your fucking action.”

The words flew out of him in a huff, and before he realized it, he was taking on three of them while the other two wisely stayed off to the side – obviously having come along under pressure and with no real want for problems.

Fists boxing mouths, hands grabbing hold, and body slamming them in succession, none of their hits did more than irritate him as he was caught in the gut a few times, and took one to the jaw. Liam raged enough that they eventually backed off. Fortunately none of them pulled a blade. It was sheer luck that they'd hadn't.

Heart raging blood through his veins, he felt invincible in that moment, and the look in his eyes surely communicated a taste for blood none of them wanted him to satiate at their expense.

Watching them flip him the bird half-heartedly as they backed toward their bikes, he dusted himself off and hurled a torrent of insults their way.

“You come back; you bitches are fucking dead. You hear me, twats? I'll fucking kill you.”

It was a struggle to calm down, and he hit the wall of his shop several times before he gathered his breath and managed to force himself to breathe evenly. He hated getting like this, coming so close to the edge of his wits that he might actually kill someone.

His threats hadn't been idle. He'd fucking meant them, and they were damned lucky he didn't have a weapon on him today, or he probably would have drained the blood out of at least one of those fucks.

Clenching his teeth, his head sagged against the wall, jerking back up when he heard a groan. A familiar one. Panning the parking lot, he confirmed every last one of the assholes was gone, groaning as he felt the ache in his rib where he'd been struck by the biggest of them. It hadn't felt like anything when he was high on adrenalin, but he'd be paying for it tomorrow.

Without question.

His head snapping to his left at the sound of scuffling, his jaw clenched noticing his brother struggling to get up. He hadn't even noticed him. Fuck. They hurt him bad. If he'd known that, he'd have broken their teeth against the cement when he'd had a chance.