twenty-eight: in which she finds the thin line between madness and sanity

"Shit gets dark when you lose it all" –Naughty Boy & Bastille, No One's Here to Sleep

********************************

The Phantoms clubhouse was on lockdown, which meant that no one was allowed in at all – unless they were a member or a "club bitch" or old lady – or out freely without an escort.

It also meant that there was booze flowing, sex everywhere, and one big party in general.

Jake had come to pick up Daisy and me in his truck and had ignored me the entire drive to the clubhouse. That was A-OK with me. I wasn't in the mood to talk. Besides, a panicked Daisy was talking enough for the both of us.

"Is there a war, Jake? Are we gonna get shot at? Is my brother okay?"

Jake ignored her, too. Couldn't really blame him.

By the time I was settled in Jake's room at the back of the house, he'd said exactly two words to me. One of them had been a "Yeah", when I asked if my friends would be safe. I couldn't live with myself if I was protected while my friends were left out in the cold. To die, possibly.

"How you feelin'?" Jake was at the bedroom door, ready to leave.

"I know you did it."

He eyed me cautiously. "Did what?"

I sucked in air. "Killed McNally." I looked at his hands at his sides, as if I could actually see the blood staining them. "His brother probably knows it was you. Sebastian probably helped somehow. And that's why we're all in danger. Because his brother is an extreme nut and wants your blood and anyone associated with you."

He looked at me for a long time before saying softly, "You need to sleep, Maya. Forget everythin'. Get better."

I wanted to scream. "Forget everything? You must be delusional! I'm shacking up with the Phantoms, my friends are out there, my boyfriend murdered one of the town's Psycho Twins and...and goddamn you, Jacob, I thought we were done with the McNallys! They were leaving us alone!"

He had nothing to say to that. This had been an unprovoked attack and my mind was a complete blank trying to figure out why Jake would risk everything this way.

Wrenching the door open, he stepped out into the hallway, slamming it shut behind him. I sat on his bed, feeling equal parts scared and angry, and made myself calm the heck down. I couldn't lose my mind now.

Hey, you don't even know for sure that Jake did it, the voice in my head reminded me. The McNallys do have a horde of enemies, remember? They probably have a phone book of suspects.

But the next day, when it was leaked that the McNally body – confirmed by dental records to be David – was missing all ten of his fingers, it became crystal clear that the voice in my head had been trying to con me.

Ten fingers for ten million...

***

"You realize you brought a fuckin' shit-storm down on us, Rip?" Ghost was saying, taking a long drag on a cigarette, looking as if he hadn't a care in the world despite his gruff words.

"You think I didn't know what would happen once I put the guy to ground? Gotta take the other one out, 'fore he takes me out." Jake took a sip of his beer, leaning against the desk, shoulder to shoulder with Ghost.

Christ, they were relaxing in Ghost's office, seeming so composed, like nothing was going on. And no, they hadn't noticed me eavesdropping, peeking in through the crack of the door.

"That your plan?" Ghost shook his head, chuckling. "Jesus, Ripper. The Irish don't fuсk around. They catch you, they'll torture your crazy ass first 'fore they end you in an interestin' way. Already lost a Candidate 'bout half an hour ago. Strung up outside The Wreck, poor kid. Message received, loud and fuckin' clear. We're goin' to war, brother."

"He fuсked with my woman. Scared her shitless," Jake said, his voice intense. "I don't forget shit like that. Don't take it lightly, either."

I bit my bottom lip so hard I tasted iron right away.

"Agreed. I think anyone would'a probably done the same for Maya Fenton." He paused, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "But were the fingers really necessary, brother?"

Jake laughed a laugh I'd never heard before. It sent chills down my spine, made the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "Second finger went off, guy pissed himself. Screamed like a whore on a fat coсk. Could've creamed myself."

"Twisted fuсker," Ghost remarked, slapping him on the back.

They roared with laughter and I backed away...straight into someone. I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand, turning around. I inhaled sharply again, unable to tear my eyes from the mountain of a man who was currently looking at me like I was gum beneath his big black boot.

"You spyin'?" he spat, wrapping his fingers around my upper arm.

"N-No, I..."

He shook me, hard, jolting my arm forward. Pain splintered through my nerves, centering in my shoulder. I made a noise. My shoulders were already so sore. I heard the door to Ghost's office fly open behind me, and the next thing I knew, the mountain and I were separated by force.

Before I knew what was happening, Jake was going at the mountain with his fists and I was held into place by Ghost's firm hands on my shoulders. I wasn't going to move, anyway, but I couldn't tell him that. I just stood there, watching as Jake took down a man twice as wide as him, snarling at him to keep his "dirty fuckin' hands" off his woman. Or he'd rip them off.

When it was over and Jake was breathing heavily with his fists at his side, the mountain – who ended up being Beast – was coughing up blood, eyes beginning to swell, laughing to himself about Jake finally getting himself puѕsy-whipped. I didn't understand these men. Couldn't even begin to.

Eventually, I pulled myself out of Ghost's grasp and stalked back into Jake's room, closing the door behind me and locking it. Rooting through my bag, I came up with my PJs and changed quickly. I padded into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.

Was I surprised to see Jake's reflection in the mirror when I looked up after rinsing and spitting? No.

"You pick locks really quickly," I mumbled.

He lifted a shoulder. "Picked my first one when I was six. Ma kept the pantry locked. Tried to come between me and my peanut butter cups."

Despite the way I was feeling, I smiled. Jake had probably given his parents a unique kind of hell as a little boy.

"Well, in this case, the locked door meant that I didn't want to see you," I said, turning around. I walked past him, trying in vain to keep from touching him. "I hope you don't think you're sharing a bed with me."

"The guy was putting his hands on you, sugar. Maybe I went too far but –"

"I was eavesdropping. On you and Ghost. That is why Beast put his hands on me." I looked away from him. "I overheard you two. Laughing together about what you'd done. You tortured that man. And you loved it. My God, Jake, you said it turned you on. That's sick. You are sick. I think you need help. I need...I need to be alone. And you need to go."

A dozen emotions played across Jake's face. Anger eventually won out. "Help?" he seethed, his voice loud. "Just what kinda help do you think I need? Psychiatric help? 'Cause let me tell ya, sweetness, I got plenty of that Freudian bullshit in jail. Fuсk your help. I protect the ones I love. McNally threatened you. Threatened what's mine. He got what he deserved in the end, and if I liked doin' it, so fuckin' what?"

The backs of my legs hit something and I realized that I'd been slowly edging away from Jake.

As if I were scared of him.

And for the first time since I'd met him, I was.

"Maya?" The anger in his eyes faded to a tiny spark. He sounded uncertain. "Babe?"

"Please, Jacob. Please, just go," I whispered, hoping that he'd heard me. I couldn't say it again. My throat was already too tight, emotion wrapping around my vocal cords like a python.

"I did it for you," he said, looking and sounding so broken, so lost.

Jesus, he looked like a cat that had mauled a bird and brought it inside to show its master, expecting praise and some Kibbles.

But he wasn't a freaking cat. He was a grown man who could go back to prison, for life, this time. And McNally wasn't a mangled bird. He was one half of a powerful criminal duo, with an entire gang behind him as well, ready to even the score for him.

"I wish you hadn't, Jacob," I said quietly. "I really wish you hadn't."

A shutter fell over his eyes, and they became cold. His icy gaze swept over me. "You're the delusional one, if you think this is my first kill."

I scrunched my eyes shut, shaking my head until I felt dizzy, as if I could pretend he hadn't said anything to me.

"Nah, baby. Not my first. Won't be my last." His voice sounded closer, until I could feel his heavy breathing on my face I felt his fingertips gently tracing my jaw. "What do you think I do when I'm not with you, babe? Did you think you could make me normal? I'm the furthest fuckin' thing from normal. I'm an enforcer. You need to start acceptin' that. Fuckin' hell, don't cry."

I was crying? Why? I was mad. Mad at him, mad at myself. Mad at Sebastian, mad at my aunt who was crawling out of the woodwork wanting to know me. Mad at the Phantoms. Mad at the world.

My eyes flew open and I side-stepped Jake, getting as far from him as possible in this bedroom. "How? How did you get close enough to David McNally to kill him? Just tell me that. Please."

Maybe it was self-defense. Maybe McNally attacked him first. Maybe...

"Just happened to find out which gay bar he liked to frequent alone. He thought I was making a pass at him. Wasn't too difficult to get his drunken ass out the back door." He paused, looking me in the eye. "That was before I went to Mexico. Your precious computer boy – criminal of the year – was only too happy to plant the gun on one of McNally's own men. Just some goddamn bad luck that the body was dug up so soon. Thought I was being ironic, putting him to ground on his own property."

I tasted bile. Again. Sebastian – spineless, stupid Sebastian – had handled a murder weapon and framed someone else for a murder my boyfriend had committed, someone who was probably dead by now. But then that meant...

"They don't know you did it, do they?"

"They do now."

"What are you going to do? To the other brother?" My voice was barely a croak.

Anger flickered in Jake's golden eyes. "Well, I gotta finish what he started, don't I?"

Those just happened to be his departing words. He didn't give me a chance to say anything before he was out the door, closing it softly behind him.

The Candidate who'd been killed last night had been called Gage. Twenty-four-years old and he'd met his end outside a bar, crucified to an electricity pole.

The Phantoms buried their own and buried them fast. Sticks said that this was their way – a silver coin on both eyes to pay the Boatman and a nice coffin to send him to Hades. No women went to the funeral, since we were still on lockdown, but that was fine, because I had barely left the bed, except for something to drink from the kitchen.

Sticks would knock on my door every two hours, pretending he was just checking I was still breathing. We both knew that Jake had sent him.

Jake.

He was gone. Most of the brothers were. They'd gone to Gage's funeral and had yet to return. The ones that were here were having their version of a wake, which just involved toasting Gage and drinking for hours. I tried to convince myself that I didn't care that Jake wasn't back, that I wasn't worried, but damn it, I was. If he died out there, our last exchange would be an angry, ugly one. That would haunt me for the rest of my life.

Being in love was synonymous to being in hell.

I was cooped up in Jake's room, lying on my back and scrolling through the messages I'd received that morning.

Kira: Your 500 voice messages were cute & all, but now you're starting to sound like a phone salesman. Luke and I are ok. I had to tell him everything. And yeah, he's pissed. But ok. Be safe, hon. xo

Luke: I don't know who you are anymore but if anything happens to you, I'm still gonna kill your boyfriend.

Iris: Max is here. Don't worry. Take your antibiotics! xx

Moira: Why do you keep messaging me to lock my doors? They're always locked. Have you been taking your meds? Seriously, take your meds. x

I wasn't being paranoid, was I? I was perfectly justified in reacting this way. McNally's men had crucified that boy, but not before gutting him like a fish and spilling his insides.

I was praying that whoever Jake had watching my friends' apartments was sharp and alert.

A knock at the door made me look up from my phone. Expecting Sticks, I told him to come in.

"Hey," said Baron, standing in the doorway.

"Hey," I said back.

He closed the door, leaning against it. "So...I heard you were in here. Not that I'm surprised. Where else would you be?"

"Do you... Would you happen to know where your brother is?"

Baron shrugged. "Do I ever?" He moved to one corner of the room, sinking into the armchair there. "I was summoned here, much like you. Dragged out of bed and told it was for my own safety. You might not see it, but I'm shitting candy floss I'm so overjoyed."

I bit my lower lip. Baron looked like he was recovering from a week-long alcohol binge and had forgotten the meaning of personal hygiene. His hair, longer in the middle and shorter at the sides, was uncombed and hung over his forehead. His T-shirt and sweats looked lived in, like they doubled as PJs and day wear.

"How have things been?" I wanted to know. Stupid question. It was clear how things were for Baron. "Are you looking for a job?"

Again, he gave me a half-hearted shrug, scrubbing a hand down his bearded face. He was probably two weeks overdue on a shave.

"She's not worth it, you know," I blurted out.

Baron's eyes flickered to me. "Who?"

"Diana. Your ex. Sooner or later, you'll realize that."

"Women come and go, Maya," he said quietly, "but babies? I wanted that kid. I wanted him or her to be mine, and for a long time, I believed I was about to become a father. That is what has me so fuсked-up in the head."

I let out a breath. "You can still have that. But not like this. Not the way you are right now."

A knock resounded at the door. I hesitated to invite the person in, wanting to continue this conversation with Baron, but he went ahead and grunted out, "Come in."

Bree, Sticks and an orange-haired woman I didn't recognize tramped into the room one after the other.

"Hey, Maya. Heard about your op. You OK?" said Bree, gifting me with a wide smile as she went to stand between the V of Baron's parted legs.

"Oh, yeah. I am. Hey, Bree."

"Good. Well, we're here for Baron, and he" – she jerked a thumb at Sticks – "is here for you. This is Toni, by the way." She nodded at the other woman, who nodded at me in turn.

"O...kaaaaay." I looked from Bree to Baron and finally, to Toni.

Bree held her hand down to Baron. "Let us make it better, baby," she murmured, and he took her hand, allowing her to attempt to pull him up.

I had to look away when they kissed, because honestly, I had a problem watching other people kiss. To me, it seemed way too private, too intimate. Never mind that they were kissing in my bedroom. When they pulled away, Baron put his arms around both Bree and Toni and they left the room.

Sticks closed the door after them, shaking his head. "That is one lucky guy," he muttered before looking my way. "How you doing?"

"You don't have to keep checking up on me, Sticks," I told him, watching him go for the armchair.

"It's cool. Always wise to do whatever Ripper says if you like to live." He grinned, looking even more like a little boy right then than he usually did. "'Sides, I actually like talking to you. You remember how I told you how much I wanted to be a Phantom and thought you were with Prez?"

"Oh, I remember," I said through gritted teeth.

"I said I was sorry, didn't I? Anyway, you were real mouthy and I kind of wondered if you had a little sister, or something. 'Course, Ripper clapped the back of my head when I asked."

"Seriously?"

"Made up for it by cleaning up your place not once, but twice." There was that grin again. "Real fuckin' well, might I add."

"Oh, sure. I think you missed your calling as a professional cleaner, Keegan."

He sent me a wink. "If this ride-hard-die-harder Phantom-thing doesn't work out, I'll make sure you're the first person I call to mop your floors. Deal?"

I laughed. Then I stopped, shocked. My own laughter sounded alien to my ears.

"You good?" Sticks sounded concerned.

"I'm perfect," I lied. Absently, I scratched at a scab on my exposed elbow. "Where's Daisy?"

"In her room. And before you ask, she's not planning on running anywhere."

"Actually, I was going to say that I was curious about what you said to her in the bathroom back at my place." Whatever he'd said had quashed any anger Daisy may have had towards me.

"Nothing that she shouldn't have known already. School first, boys later. Much later. And when she's thirty and can finally date, she should make the guy work for her." He lifted one shoulder. "It's what I told my foster sister. 'Course, she was eighteen and had poor taste in guys."

"You're an amazing man, Sticks. Do you know that?"

The guy actually turned red.

He ended up staying longer than five minutes and I ended up really enjoying his company. He was like the baby brother I'd never had, younger than me by three years and extremely happy-go-lucky. He wasn't bitter about being one of the few bikers left behind while the others went out to "handle business", as he put it. There was the unspoken knowledge that Sticks had done awful things for the Phantoms, things that involved blood and loss of life. Being here – in this house for my own safety – and being around these men was an eye-opener. How naïve I'd been, imagining that I could date a biker – the sergeant-at-arms, no less – without becoming tangled up in his club's crap. Then again, I'd dated an IT specialist and look at where that had gotten me.

I should swear off men.

When Sticks' phone rang and he went outside to answer it, I dragged myself off the bed and followed him outside, stretching my legs. Sticks had disappeared but that didn't matter. Jake's bedroom here smelled of him and every breath I took just made my chest tighten.

Upstairs, there was music and drinking and public sex – all in the name of a fallen almost-brother – but here, downstairs, it was as silent as a crypt.

Until the front door was rammed open, startling the dead skin cells off me, and two bikers stumbled inside. One was tall, with dirt-blonde hair and unadulterated fury blazing in his hazel eyes, while the other was shorter and dark-haired – and clutching his side, from which blood was flowing.

Jake held the wounded man upright, hauling him into the living area and grunting for me to follow. I did, keeping my eyes on the crimson trail they were leaving behind. Jake lay the other man on the floor, kneeling beside him to wrench open the man's leather vest and yank his bloodstained T-shirt up. At a closer look, it was clear that the wound was not on the man's side, but in front, in the abdomen.

"Knife wound," he muttered, looking up at me. "Can you stitch him up?"

"Well, yes, but I need –"

"A medical kit? Done." He jerked his head at something behind me, and that was when I noticed Sticks.

"This is everything," he reassured me.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I gingerly got to my knees as well, trying to see what the hell I was dealing with.

"What's his name?" I asked no one in particular.

Sticks said, "Sin. His name's Sin."

Jake was pressing his hands over the wound, but the dark red blood was oozing between his fingers. I went for the gloves, rolling my shoulders as I pulled them on.

"Take your hands off, Jake," I said, "so I can see."

When he did, I almost wished he hadn't. The stab wound was deep and jagged, as if whoever had stabbed him had twisted and pulled with a serrated blade. There was so much blood and Sin's eyes were closed now. When I pressed my fingers to his neck, his pulse was weak. But at least it was there.

There was a huge difference between watching an old person die and watching a young person lose their life in such a senseless and bloody manner. The death of a patient never fails to sadden me but at least it's after eighty-plus years on this earth. Sin, however, was probably in his early thirties, like Jacob. Too young.

Humming a song I didn't recognize, I pressed a wad of thick gauze to the wound. Sticks handed me a bottle of spirit and I splashed it on the cut. No reaction from Sin, and I was glad of it, because I winced in pain. The blood was thick, leaking in earnest as I tried to clean the wound. It didn't look like it'd be slowing anytime soon. And that was bad, because there was only so much blood in a human body.

With trembling hands, I began to thread the needle, and in my head I was praying to God that Sin wouldn't bleed out. I threw in a prayer for myself, too, because the only living thing I'd ever stitched up was a puppy.

"Okay, Sin. You're going to be okay," I murmured, removing the gauze from his wound.

Behind me, voices rumbled. The space we were in was slowly filling up with Phantoms.

Taking a deep breath, I stuck the needle in, piercing Sin's skin. There was no reaction from the man, who was obviously unconscious.

In and out, in and out, the black thread went for what seemed like forever. I had to do it quickly, and the relief I felt when the wound was finally sewn up made my head spin.

"Yes, Sin. You'll be just fine," I said, tugging on the thread and snipping it. "You'll be fine."

I took a few extra moments to disinfect my handiwork. When I was done, my eyes shot up to meet Jake's.

"He needs a doctor. He's lost too much blood, there might be internal bleeding, his organs could –"

"No," said Jake. Just that one word, and the entire room hushed. He looked at me. "Our doc is on his way from wherever the hell he was. He will take care of Sin. But until then, no one's going to a hospital."

"But –"

"No."

Jake rose to his feet and I followed suit, tearing off the bloodied gloves and bagging them. Two other men came and lifted Sin like he weighed nothing, taking him out the room. I glared at Jake.

"What happened?" I asked.

"He got stabbed."

"Obviously."

"Then why ask?"

"You know what I mean, Jacob."

"Come here."

I stared at his outstretched arm, at the lazy smirk on his face, and hated that he was unwilling to divulge anything to me when I'd been so concerned about him out there.

"You know what?" My voice sounded overly loud, overly annoyed to my ears. "Go fuсk yourself."

I stalked past the open-mouthed men lounging against the wall, noting how they all seemed to be battered in some way. I wanted to believe that Sin would survive, and maybe he would, but I wasn't going to hold my breath. I mean, who knew what organ had been punctured by that weapon? Who knew how deep the wound even was? By the time the Phantoms' contracted doctor pitched up, Sin could be dead.

"Go fuсk myself?"

Jake's harsh voice followed me into his bedroom. He slammed the door shut, locking it.

"You think you can mouth off to me in front of my brothers, and I'll stand around and take it?"

I went to the bathroom to wash my hands and when I turned around, slammed into Jake's chest.

"Move," I demanded.

He gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Going stir-crazy, huh, baby? Only been one day. Learn some goddamn patience."

"I can't believe I was worried about you," I sneered, trying to push him out of the way. "I was blind and willfully ignorant. No more, Jacob. No more. Once it's safe to leave, I don't think I want to see you again."

His eyes narrowed. "You don't mean that."

"I don't say things I don't mean."

I gave up trying to shove him and slid past him instead, inhaling sharply when he shot a hand out to grasp my wrist. "You. Don't. Mean. That," he spat, twisting me to him.

"Jacob, I –"

The air left my chest when my back hit the wall and Jake's hands gripped my forearms. His gaze was feral, his breathing ragged, and when his thigh slid between my legs, I felt how hard he was.

"Don't hurt me like this," he said in a pained voice, pushing his stiff cock against my center.

"I'm not," I protested, trying to pull my arms away.

"Yeah, Maya. You fuсking are," he snarled into my ear, before his lips touched the side of my neck. "Telling me you don't want me anymore. That shit hurts. So. Fuсking. Much."

Each word was punctuated by the ghost of a kiss to my skin, sending my heartbeat skittering into overdrive. Releasing my arms abruptly, Jake's hands were at the buttons of my silk blouse, the minute buttons frustrating him enough for him to wrench my top open. He did the same with my bra, ignoring the front clasp and snapping it apart.

I sucked in a breath, goosebumps dotting my bare skin. Where the cold air hit me, Jake's warm breath relieved the ache. His mouth was on my collarbone, his tongue licking along the dips and ridges. I must have made a sound in my throat – maybe a protest, maybe a plea – because he breathed my name, drew it out and made it sound different.

My arms hung at my sides and he turned me around, made me press my forehead against the cold wall. I was so furious, so at odds with my conscience. I didn't want to want Jacob Ford right then. He was bad, and I was...something else. Something not quite good anymore but tainted by real life and biker business.

His hands were at the waistband of the loose jeans I wore, coming around to my front to undo the button and unzip me. I wanted to hate myself for being wet, for wanting him even when I should have been afraid of him. For needing him when what I really needed was help.

Jake's erection was hard against my lower back, and he released a satisfied groan, working two fingers inside of me, crooking them in a way that made me see stars.

"Jesus," he growled, his breath in my ear, "so goddamn wet it's a crime."

I scrunched my eyes shut, breathing deeply and loudly. I didn't want to make any noise, for some reason. Didn't want him to know how much I wanted this. Stupid, because he could feel it. Feel it by the wetness he was rubbing along my throbbing clit. Feel it by the way my heart was hammering in my chest. Feel it by the way my breathing was ragged.

My underwear and jeans were dragged down my legs in one impatient tug. I stepped out of them, hearing the sound of Jake's zipper, and then I felt his skin against my skin.

He spun me around, shoving my backside against the wall once more. My eyes flew open. Fisting his coсk, Jake slid his hand along the hard, wet length, his eyes daring me to look away. To deny that I wanted it. Wanted him. Still.

"You don't need to talk, sweetheart," he said quietly, his fingertips spreading the pre-cum leaking from his tip. "You just need to scream."

His eyes were dark, almost a chestnut brown now, and they drank me in with open lust. I kept my back against the wall, allowing him to close the space between us with his mouth against mine. The instant his lips pressed against mine, unforgiving and hard, my hands shot out and pulled at his hair. Tugged at it. Tried to rip it out of his beautiful skull.

He groaned out his pleasure, fisting a hank of my own hair and pulling in return. I ground myself against him, shifting so that my pusѕy was in contact with his diсk. He liked that, liked that a lot, gripping himself and sliding his tip along my wet slit, panting loudly.

But that wasn't enough for him. The first real sound I made since we started...this was a yelp of surprise when he pulled his mouth from mine and lifted me into his arms, leading me to the rumpled bed and putting me down. Without any effort, he flipped me over, gripping my hips and making it clear that he wanted me on my hands and knees.

Wordlessly, I did as he wanted, pressing my cheek into the cool sheets. The mattress creaked under his weight when he knelt behind me. I felt his calloused hands stroking the cheeks of my ass and almost sighed, but when he cracked a palm against my right cheek, I bit into the cotton sheets, stifling my cry.

"Be pissed at me, Maya, but don't mouth off to me in front of my brothers," he said, his voice dangerously low.

I wanted to tell him to go to hell, to go fuck himself again, but I couldn't because there was a fresh flood of moisture between my legs and I welcomed the smack of his hand against my ass again. I leaned into it, craved it.

He did it again and again, and once more, before I felt his mouth on my hot skin, kissing it better. Every part of me was on fire. I didn't understand it, couldn't wrap my head around why this pain would set me ablaze with want.

I didn't have to reflect on it any longer because the instant I felt Jake's cock at my entrance, my head cleared. I could feel and breathe and want only him. It was only ever him. He pushed forward in a single thrust, his entrance made easier by my copious wetness.

"Fuсk," he roared, digging his fingers into my hips.

He slammed into me repeatedly, faster and harder each time, and with every thrust, he grazed that fabled sweet spot inside me, forcing my eyes closed because they were watering. His thighs hit the back of mine, his chest warm against my back through his T-shirt and my torn blouse. Back and forth he rocked, cursing and groaning, making me feel this painful pleasure.

He yanked at my hair, snapping my head up. "Not gonna scream, babe?" he rasped.

"Never," I murmured, and he let my hair go.

"Does it hurt?" This time, his voice was soft, almost pacifying. His thrusts slowed, became unhurried. "Should I stop?"

"No," I gasped, pushing back against him for the first time. "No, no, no, no..."

He pushed the hem of my blouse up high, exposing my back, and I moaned when I felt his lips on my damp skin. There was only this now, no anger but this overwhelming connection with someone I loved.

"I'm close," he groaned, swelling to an almost impossible size inside me. "Tell me you're close, sweetheart. Tell me so I can come."

Frustration gnawed at me. "Can't," I whimpered.

"I got you," Jake said, his voice hoarse. "Always."

He slid his hand around my waist, his fingers beginning to stroke my сlit in furious circles even as he continued his fierce fuсking with his coсk.

I clenched around him, the delicious pressure building up until I could take no more and splintered through my climax. And even then, he continued working me with his fingers, plunging into me with desperate roughness, our skin slapping together.

My name fell from his lips as he came, slamming into me for the last time and forcing another mind-numbing orgaѕm out of me in the process. He collapsed, twisting at the last minute so that we fell on our sides, with his diсk still inside me.

It took several minutes for me to catch my breath and reach back to pull Jake out of me when it became clear that he was perfectly fine with staying inside of me. It took several more minutes for me to compose myself, think of something to say after the things I'd already said.

Did I really mean what I'd said about leaving Jake? About him being sick, needing help?

Probably not, to the first one, but a definite hell-yeah to the second. The one thing I was sure of was that we shouldn't have done this twisted version of making love. We should've talked. Like normal people.

"Jacob, we need to talk," I said aloud.

No response.

Perhaps it was for the best. I felt dirty and sticky and sore and in desperate need of some sleep. Not to mention the fact that I felt hungry. At least that was something to welcome. My appetite was returning, just like my doctor had promised.

No, Maya, you chicken. Talk. Don't run away. Open your damn mouth.

I decided to listen to my conscience and turn onto my other side to face Jake.

The first thing I really noticed was that he was asleep, and that he looked positively angelic when his long-lashed eyes were closed. But then I noticed the red staining the sheets and wondered if he'd actually ripped my insides apart with his relentlessness. That couldn't have been right, though, right? I'd be in way more pain.

My eyes zoned in on Jake's front, on his black T-shirt that seemed...wet. I lifted the hem, high enough that his entire chest was exposed, sucking in air when the source of the blood was visible.

And just like he'd wanted, I screamed.