She breathed in between her teeth and she dropped her head, like she needed to concentrate. Her hair fell around her in a thick, dark curtain, but Ajax focused on the fingers that began to move, plunging in and out of that tight, hot cunt he could taste in his own mouth. Her other hand worked her clit.

He watched. And she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, standing there half naked in the moonlight, giving herself over to him because he’d told her to. Because she’d always met him full on, again and again, in every possible way, since he’d walked through the Priory doors.

Her movements got harder, jerkier. Her breath caught.

Ajax took a step and was on her, taking her face between his hands and tilting her face to his.

“Don’t stop,” he ordered her, right there against her parted lips. “Come now, baby. Right now.”

And she did. Sophie convulsed against him. Her mouth got stuck wide open and her face went red and she shook, and he watched, and she came right there against him, her hands deep in her cunt and her face completely open to him.

It was everything. It shook through him, hard, like a different kind of coming.

“You feel that?” he gritted out at her as the shaking died down. “Your own fingers and a little clit action. That’s what you get without me, Sophie. That’s all you get.”

She tried to pull away from him but he held her fast, and backed her up so she was against the bricks behind her. He shifted, holding her jaw right where he wanted it with one hand and not giving a shit that her eyes were bright with fury. Fury and that wild, dark need.

That shaking thing in him rolled over. Grew bigger.

He ripped at his fly and he pulled out his cock. He dealt with the condom and then he shoved her hands out of the way as he brought himself in close, rubbing his hard, swollen cockhead against her soaking wet folds, covering himself in her cream.

“Get off me, you asshole,” she hissed at him, but she arched into him while she said it, pressing her clit against the head of his cock, and he laughed.

“Is that what you want?” he taunted her. “You want to come on your own fingers here and then again in the bathroom of some hotel room on Canal Street after some drunk douchebag fucks you into a bored coma? That your idea of a good time?”

“It’s none of your business if it is.”

“It’s all my business, baby.”

He rolled his hips against her and moved again, taking her hands in one of his and stretching them up over her head, then pinning them to the bricks. She tested his hold and he laughed again, then moved his cock to her entrance. He pushed in, only the head, just that little grip of her tight, wet cunt around him and no more—then stopped.

She groaned, a sharp, frustrated sound. It was like music to Ajax.

“You think I don’t know you’ve never had it so good?” he taunted her. “You think I don’t know how hungry this little pussy is for me?”

She struggled against him then, but he doubted she knew if it was to get away from him or to get him deeper inside of her, and either way, Ajax didn’t give a fuck. She was hot. She was his.

There was nothing else but that.

Nothing.

Her head tipped back and her gaze met his.

“Please,” she said, like it cost her. “Please.”

“You’re mine, Sophie,” he told her, like a vow. It rang in him. It shook. And he didn’t give a shit about that, either. He meant it. “Don’t fucking forget it again.”

And then he hitched her up, grabbing her ass and lifting her so she could throw those silky legs around him, and fucked his way straight home.

—

He filled her up with that huge, hard cock, a single deep thrust that slammed her back against the wall and made her breath desert her in a whoosh.

And Sophie loved it. She almost came again, as easily as that, and he was right, damn him. It was better. He was better.

But he only laughed, then shifted her, so both of his hands were on her ass and she wasn’t scraping against the wall. He didn’t tell her to hold on, because he didn’t have to. This was Ajax. He stood there like it was nothing, fucking her by moving her up and down on his cock, his hands gripping her ass like it was a set of handles as he lifted her up and slammed her back down.

It was hard. It was nearly brutal.

It was the most glorious thing Sophie had ever felt.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on anyway, wondering how long he could do this. How long he could use her body like this—the way she’d used her own hands on herself—like she was nothing more than a fuck toy to him.

That thought made her shudder deep inside with a dark and greedy delight, and Ajax shifted again. He carried her a step or two to the side.

“Reach up,” he muttered at her, like speaking was almost too much for him, and she didn’t understand. “Above you. The pipe.”

It stuck out from the wall and it was cold to the touch, but Sophie obeyed him anyway, and wrapped her hands around it.

And this time, when Ajax started thrusting into her again in that rough, wild, perfect rhythm that made her think she could feel that massive cock of his in every part of her, he slipped one of those lethal, cunning fingers down into the crevice between her ass cheeks and began to rub at her puckered opening.

He didn’t ask. He just did it.

Sophie froze, but he didn’t stop fucking her, and he didn’t move that finger away.

And the power of the way he fucked into her was too much, too seductive and too damned good, and she found herself falling into it again, the delirious roll of her hips meeting him and that wicked finger at her back entrance.

He didn’t wait. He stroked at that opening and then, with absolutely no fanfare, slid inside.

And something dark and needy, pure greed and a bright, hot fire, simply took Sophie over as that hard, unforgiving finger slid deep into her ass.

Then he began to fuck her with that, too.

And she was lost. She simply…disappeared. She was nothing but this. Hot and slick. Dark and wild. This.

Him.

He didn’t stop. He held her and he fucked her, his cock deep in her pussy and his finger deep in her ass, and she heard nothing but that dirty laugh of his as she shook and she met his thrusts and she writhed and she made those wild keening sounds into the night that some part of her couldn’t believe came from her own throat.

But she knew they did. This was what he gave her. This dirty glory.

And then she was coming again, a delirious rush, her whole body seizing and bucking. Her hands slipped off the pipe and Ajax caught her against him, his hips still pumping. She came and she came, and he pulled his finger from deep inside her and she was still shuddering. Then he tilted her back into the wall, took the back of her head in his palm to hold her away from the bricks, and kept right on fucking her.

Until she broke apart all over again, and he followed, slamming out his pleasure deep inside of her with a low, hot groan.

And for a long time, they both did nothing but cling together and breathe.

Shaky. So shaky. Like the next breath wasn’t guaranteed.

Eventually, Ajax set her on her feet again, and reached over to tug her dress down. He tossed the condom in one of the trash cans and tucked his cock away, and Sophie found she was afraid to look at him. Afraid of what she’d see. Or wouldn’t.

It was as bad as the other night. Worse, because he wasn’t walking away, and whatever moved on her face then, he was likely to see it. But if he did, he didn’t say anything.

Instead, Ajax reached around and slapped her ass, not gently, and she jumped.

“Let’s go.” His voice was low. She couldn’t read anything in it.

“Where are we going?” she snapped at him, because snapping felt good. Productive. Or protective, anyway, and she figured with the way he could strip everything away from her, the way he could make her do absolutely anything he wanted, she needed all the protection she could get. “And if you slap my ass again, you might lose that hand. Just FYI.”