Hey now, all you sinners
Jessa
When he lay me down, I reached up and ran my fingertips over his arms and chest, like I could feel the outlines of the tattoos. My body sparked as my hands connected with his skin and he remained patiently hovering above me as I traced the muscles in his arms. Finally, I nodded and tugged him and he put his weight on me and pulled my sweats down. I wound my legs around him, let his cock touch my sex as we kissed.
I was “Yellow” and “Hypnotize” and “Wanted Dead or Alive”—none of them seeming the most romantic songs, but at that moment they were, and I knew that I’d never be able to listen to them again without thinking of Mathias, of his hands on me, parting my legs, making me come. Making me understand what all the songs about sex were talking about when they praised it endlessly, dissected it, discussed it, flaunted it.
This deserved to be praised, dissected, flaunted, shouted from the rooftops.
Coming into this moment, I’d wanted to understand him more than I’d ever wanted to understand anyone in my life, and in some small way, I already did. The beat he’d put on was inside of him, inside of me—drawing me out, making me forget and remember. Rolling around in the back of his van, we might’ve been at the lake on a summer’s day or at a lover’s lane at midnight, but all of it long before the Chaos, when things were normal.
But if it hadn’t been for the Chaos, I knew I never would’ve been here, in Defiance, in this van, this warehouse, this kind of trouble. And that was the most comforting thing the Chaos had ever given me. And in the back of his van, on clean sheets with music blasting and a storm rolling through—and rolling through me as well—I gave everything to Mathias. He’d seen me at my worst, or maybe it was my best, and he didn’t seem bothered or threatened. He didn’t seem anything but turned on and his mouth on my body was like nothing I’d ever thought or experienced. There was a tingle to his touch, as if he was full of magic and he was transferring it to my body, sharing it with me.
I’d been through hell, so the fact that I was wanted—no, needed—surprised me. After thinking about what almost happened out there, a part of me should want to crawl under a rock and hide, never wanting to be touched again.
But no, I shook that off because this was my liberation. My body and no one got to tell me who to give it up to, except me.
I wasn’t going to sleep with Mathias because he’d saved me. I would screw him because it had turned me on that he did save me, that he’d stepped directly in the middle of all that brute force and simply took charge.
Even now I shivered, thinking about his hands, hands that could take a life easily and were instead now bringing me to life.
He grinned and I gasped as he played with my nipples. Rolled them between his fingers and thumbs, flicked the end with his nail until I gasped with pleasure and pain. And he smiled, an all-knowing oh yeah, there’s more where that came from smile that made me wetter than before. And he knew, and that made it even more intoxicating.
I hadn’t been a virgin when I’d met Charlie, but my experience up to that point had been fumbling boarding-school boys. I’d thought Charlie was a real man and although I hadn’t agreed with his politics, after the Chaos hit, everyone’s politics seemed to switch to staying alive.
I thought about Charlie and his lies, how we’d whispered our plans to one another, how I’d trusted him with the secrets I knew. How he’d completely betrayed me. Now, with Mathias’s body on mine, I wanted to erase every memory of Charlie’s hands or mouth or cock from me. I wanted new memories. And I’d never have expected them to be like this.
I could tell him, “I never do this,” but what was the point? This wasn’t D.C. circa pre-Chaos and I was no longer a good little politician’s daughter. I was a kidnap victim, a betrayed wife. And I was about to bed a biker with tattoos covering his skin and hands that played me like an instrument.
He’d made it clear I didn’t have to do anything in order to stay in Defiance and be kept safe. Whether I believed him or not wasn’t something I was ready to ponder. Maybe I wanted to offset some of the responsibility anyway. Maybe that made it easier to strip naked and offer myself to Mathias.
Not that kissing him was any hardship. He looked good, smelled good, like soap and the earth combined. He was all male too, with big, rough hands that were clean and squared nails—capable hands. He could change a tire, make love to me...he could kill for me with those hands too, and he had.
I’d never even dreamed about being with a man like this, and what was happening was no dream.
Oh, but I am bad company
Mathias
She was thinking too hard, and I needed to stop that shit. I slid a finger inside of her while my thumb circled her clit and she stiffened, like she was going to come right there. And dammit all, I wanted that. Didn’t know when the hell I’d gotten all possessive of her, or why, but it was here and I was damned certain she wasn’t going to think about anyone but me right now.
I twisted my fingers, rubbed my thumb against the tight bundle of nerves and watched her break apart in front of me. She clutched my arms as she lost control, her orgasm making her moan loudly. And she looked surprised too, and, no, it couldn’t be her first orgasm.
As she contracted around my finger, I sucked hard on the side of her neck, the primal urge to mark her too fierce to ignore. I wasn’t a biker, didn’t grow up in an MC but I finally understood why these men got so damned twisted up over their women. It had taken me all of four hours and I was fucking lost.
I could ignore everything else, all the warning bells, because the storm might not ever let up. And if there was one thing I did right, it was living for that moment, that second, because you never knew what the hell would happen next.
I’d claim her and make sure she could only see me whenever she came. I bent down and put her legs over my shoulders. She shook her head, tried to prop herself on her elbows, like she wanted to stop me, but that was more from embarrassment.
No one’s ever licked you, pretty lady?
She couldn’t understand my hand, but she knew my meaning because her blush deepened as she said, “I’ve never...”
Then you’re missing out, Jessa, I signed before I buried my face between her legs and tasted her. I wanted to erase the entire day, the entire time she’d been kidnapped and, most of all, I wanted to erase whatever the hell made her scar herself the way she had. I took her until she came again, until I knew I had to be inside of her. She spread her legs for me again and I entered her. I went too fast at first and she cried out. I cursed silently and slowed down and her eyes turned liquid again.
She wasn’t a virgin, I didn’t think, but she hadn’t had sex in a long time, and good sex? Probably never.
I whispered silently against her neck, all the promises that I couldn’t embarrass myself with. She might’ve thought I was just kissing her neck but she’d never know that I’d fallen in the space of an afternoon. That I might never be the goddamned same if she left. That I’d always have the damned scar on my biceps to remind me.
The Chaos was nothing if not intense. I’d been born intense so me in a post-Chaos world was intensity times infinity. It brought out all my natural instincts in a ferocious sort of way, and I’d been careful to bite that back, not show my hand. Mainly because I’d never found anyone to show it to.