Heathens & Hold Ups (Book 2 of the Heathens Duet)

Chapter 25- Callie

Jaxson's hands on my hips, rocking me against his abs as I finish carving the letter 'C' into his chest have me seeing stars. I don't know that I can finish my name with the way he's got me seeing double, my nails digging half-moons into his chest as I try to steady my hand to start the next letter. I groan, almost falling over as my clit rubs against the ridges, my body so sensitive and on edge that the slightest gust of wind on my clit could send me over.

I stop just as I start carving the letter 'A'. My hand is shaking too much and I can feel myself on the edge, waiting for that final push that'll have me screaming out his name as I come. He stops the motion of my hips and looks up at me through his heavily lidded eyes.

"Keep going Callie. What's the next letter?" He taunts me with that sinful mouth of his.

I can't help the keening whine that comes out me and the wanton way I try in vain to roll my hips against the sharp lines of his stomach, but his hands are sculpted marble, keeping me immobile and a needy writhing mess. "Please," I beg as I try again to find the friction. I don't know how he always manages to flip the script on me. This push and pull where he allows me the illusion of control while always holding on to the reins. I crave every second of it as much I love fighting against it.

His devilish smirk at my frustration just teases more of the friction I need. "Need something Pet? All you have to do is finish your name. It's not hard-"

He hisses as I dig my blade into his skin a bit harder than before and carve out the second letter of my name. Licking his bottom lip, I'm tempted to bite down on it. Blood trails down his chest as he strains himself sliding me back and forth but I get his game now. He stops when I do. I should've just spelled Pet. Would have been done by now. At least I didn't go for Bambi or Calista. Blood loss might have taken him before I could come.

"That's it, Bambi," he croons as I start another letter. His little grunts of pain as I dig into his flesh vibrate through his chest bringing me that much closer to an orgasm. Sweat beads roll down my skin and my ponytail, though it's holding onto that by a thread with the way it's been yanked and maneuvered by Jaxson's expert hand is plastered to my forehead and neck by sweat and the mist raining down on us. A million different sensations play along my skin and I've never felt so free.

I swear I could come from anticipation alone as I finish carving my name into his chest. I swipe a hand through the blood so that I can see my handiwork clearly. There, scrawled over his heart in shaky weeping letters is my name. Callie, for all to see.

My fingers hover over the letters, whispering them to myself like a little spell. Jaxson reaches up with one of his hands to grasp mine and presses it over my name on his chest. His blood seeps through the gaps of my fingers and he holds it there even though it's got to be agonizingly painful. He just bares his teeth up at me in some twisted version of a smile as he continues to saw me over him. This is crazy. He's crazy for wanting this, though I think I've always loved that part of him. The sick little voice he whispers to inside me preening under his attention. The old Callie would've been panicking over what this makes her, but me? I could care less. Especially with one last rocking thrust has me coming against his abs, moaning as I ride it out with slow, little tilts of my hips.

I toss my head back to the sky and try to catch my breath, but he doesn't allow me a moment's reprieve. Flipping me like I weigh nothing, my back squelches into the mud and he's pushing down his pants as I lay panting for breath. Between one inhale and the next, he's thrusting into me with one swift move like I'm the air he needs to breathe. "Deep breath Bambi."

I suck in a lungful before his hand wraps around my throat, cutting off my access to air. My vision shrinks to pinpricks and all I see is him, my body dialed all in on him and the way he uses my body, urging it to come again. "I can't," the words fall from my lips and I hardly even notice the tears leaking from my eyes until he's right there, licking them up.

"Yes you can Bambi. I don't need to carve my name into you for everyone to know you're mine. You're going to come again for me and then I'm going to fill you up until my come is dripping from your cunt."

My throat strains to swallow against feeling of the moths that swarm inside my stomach. Jaxson Hall is not a man that inspires butterflies. He eases up his grip so that I don't choke before tightening again and my pussy does the same, gripping him and clenching my inner muscles around him like a vice.

He rips the upper half of his mask off as if he can't stand to have anything between us, dipping his head until it rests in the hollow between my neck and collarbone. His nose trails along my pulse and I can't help but try to tip my neck to the side but his hand holds me firm. His other hand trails down to work that little bundle of nerves, rubbing it into tight little circles, alternating between light and strong pressure. Between the lack of oxygen, the maddening way he teases my clit, and the force of the way he strokes into my body, I come on a shout and blackout, coming to only when he releases his hold on my throat as he continues thrusting while my orgasm keeps coming in little aftershocks like a wave. He finishes with one last hard pump of his hips before flooding me with his release, a satisfied sigh on his lips. I turn my head to kiss it off him.

Despite the misting rain, and the darkening sky overhead, I doubt I can move anytime in the next...ever. Any adrenaline I had has fled and I am worn out. Chipper as ever, Jaxson takes pity on my exhausted heap of a body and helps me pull my pants and underwear up, tugging his shirt over my head, and helps me get to standing, though a bit wobbly like the fawn he always compares me to.

My eyes are drawn to my name on his chest. I think they always will be, even buried under layers of clothing. Something warm and possessive makes a home inside my chest at the sight. Mine, it hums with pride.