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Chapter Four: House Rules
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For the measure of a single heartbeat he stilled, staring at her across the distance that separated them.
He struck without warning, moving so rapidly she didn't have time to react. His arm shot out and he tangled his fist in her hair, wrapping it around his wrist and hauling her to him. He pulled until the creamy flesh of her neck was bared to him in the ultimate gesture of animalistic submission. The sight gave him a quick rush of satisfaction, but it wasn't even close to appeasing the wild hunger inside him. He was growling low and deep in his chest and her body responded to the base sound with a wet rush of desire.
"Logan," she began, realizing for the first time the enormity of what she'd done. Her rash move had set something unstoppable into motion. There would be no turning back. She might have been able to reason with Logan but there was no reasoning with the Wolverine, there was only surrender.
"Shut up," he snarled at her as he grabbed her wrist with his free hand and twisted her arm up behind her back, forcing her against the solid wall of his chest. Her glass of tea fell from numb fingers and splashed icily on her bare feet. She struggled and he only twisted harder.
"I warned you, Red," he rasped through the black rage that gripped him. "I fuckin' warned you and you kept right on pushin'."
He released her hair and when her chin came down and her eyes met his it was the Wolverine's feral gaze that bore into her not Logan's guarded one. He caught both of her slim wrists easily with one large hand and chuckled darkly at her pathetic attempts to free herself.
She could feel the rage and lust thrumming through his blood and it affected her as keenly as it did him. She had never before been pressed this intimately against him and the brush of his powerful body was making it hard to form a coherent response.
"I was only..." She tried again and again he cut her off.
"Save it, Red. We both know what you were tryin' to do," he paused. "But nobody manipulates me." He leered at her and raked her body with his eyes. "Your mistake was in thinkin' if you pushed me you'd get what you want." He smiled ruthlessly at her. "Instead you're gonna get what I want."
For the first time since they'd started this little game she felt the hot stick of apprehension, but even while his words raised the hair on the back of her neck they also made the ache between her legs all the more unbearable. Something dark and ugly twisted inside of her.
It's not supposed to be this way. She thought desperately. She wanted his passion not his anger. That blackness twisted again bringing with it an awful clarity and silently she acquiesced, allowing the darkness swallow her too. If this was the only way it could be between them, then so be it.
Logan could no longer ignore the need in his body, he'd waited too long and she'd pushed him too hard. Roughly he lifted her up against him and it registered in her mind the sharp sound she was hearing was glass shards crunching under his boots as he carried her across the room. Once past the glass he put her back down and continued pushing her towards the edge of the room, driving her out of the light and into the shadows.
A small smile touched her features. However roughly delivered it was a chivalrous gesture, and it was those little gestures, those ghostly remnants of the man that he used to be that made what she felt for him all the more bittersweet.
Her smile vanished as he shoved her into the wall hard enough for her teeth to snap together and he kicked her feet roughly apart with his boot. He stepped forcefully into the space between her parted legs and leaned into her, enjoying her little shiver of surrender as only a true predator could.
He could feel the erratic beat of her heart thumping wildly against his chest and her breathing was ragged. The pounding beneath her breast seemed to echo the heavy throbbing between his legs. He was so hard it fucking ached. He pushed his straining erection against her belly, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth at the intense pleasure the friction brought him. Blood roared wildly in his ears and he rubbed harder, instinctively seeking to increase the pressure where he wanted it most.
He deliberately refrained from touching and kissing her because even as aroused as he was, the stench of Scott on her was just too much. He'd never been particularly possessive about his lovers, mostly because they were simply a means to an end, a release, nothing more. He'd never really cared if he was the only man, just as long as he was the first.
The fact that he felt so possessive about Jean pissed him off almost as much as the stink of Scott on her skin and he wanted to punish her for making him feel that, punish her for making him feel anything at all.
"You told me that if I acted like an animal you'd treat me like one," he rasped against her ear. "I got news for you, darlin'. You act like a whore and you can bet your sweet ass I'll treat you like one."
He felt rather than heard her gasp of shock at his words as he lifted her legs up and pinned her to the wall with the weight of his body. The cold metal of his belt buckle dug into her stomach as he ground himself against her.
Jean closed her eyes and tried to commit everything about this moment to memory. It wasn't pretty or sweet but she knew these stolen moments would be few and fleeting and she never wanted to forget the musky scent of his warm skin or the rough feel of his jeans against the tender flesh of her thighs or how he felt between her legs as he used her body to pleasure himself.
She could smell the whiskey on his breath and she felt him gasp hotly against her neck as he found his rhythm. She could both feel and hear the raw primal growl rumbling in his chest and his fingers were digging into her skin with each powerful thrust.
God she wanted him, wanted to feel him inside her, wanted to scream and writhe under him, wanted more than this almost-fucking but she could sense his disgust at the scent of another man clinging to her skin and she knew it wouldn't be like that. Not this time.
She reached up to bury her fingers in his hair.
"Don't," he snarled. "Don't you fuckin' touch me."
Don't you ever fuckin' touch me with hands that smell like him.
Startled by the vehemence of his words she pulled her hands back and pressed her palms flat against the wall behind her. Still wanting more from him than he was willing to give, she tried to touch his mind but it was unreadable. All she could feel was black rage, mind numbing lust, and a stirring in his consciousness that wasn't quite human.
The cords of his neck stood out in vivid relief and his breathing grew ragged as he rocked his hips against her. He made no effort to pleasure her. This wasn't about passion or pleasure it was only about anger and lust and a need that had been denied far too long in a man that had been pushed beyond the limits of his control.
Regardless of whether or not he was trying to please her, waves of intense pleasure washed through her every time he ground his erection against her. He could feel her moist heat seeping through the denim, soaking him. Her eyes were closed and she'd bitten her bottom lip to keep from crying out.
His movements were jerky and wild with none of his usual finesse. A particularly violent thrust snapped her head back and a small drop of blood appeared on her lip. The coppery scent of her blood was enough to push him over. His orgasm tore through him and spread along his spine like liquid fire. He grabbed her hips in a crushing grip and came hard against her with a hoarse shout.
He shuddered and for a brief unguarded moment he stilled, resting against her before he came back to himself. He was still livid but at least he'd regained a small measure of control.
Time for you to pay darlin'.
Aware that she was still searching desperately for the same release he found, he dropped her legs to the ground and pulled away from her roughly. Without his support her knees buckled and she slid slowly down the wall. Still flushed with passion she stared at him with uncomprehending eyes.
"I told you, Red, act like a whore and I'll treat you like one."
He stalked over to the chair, ignoring the glass that crunched under his boots, and grabbed his shirt. With jerky angry movements he pulled it on and buttoned it, leaving it untucked to hide the telltale damp patch at the front of his jeans.
Jean felt just like the shards of glass, another thing crushed and broken under the heel of his boot. Her eyes filled with bitter tears and she brushed at them angrily with the back of her hand, unwilling to show any more weakness in front of him than she already had.
Fuck.
He could smell her tears and something twisted sharply inside of him. That angered him even further and he turned back around to face her.
"Don't give me that shit, Red. You had the power to stop this any time you wanted." The truth of that statement only made the hot tears fall that much faster. She pushed herself to her feet and unwaveringly met his gaze. "You want to use that power now though, don't ya?"
He could feel it building, like a dead space that formed around her as she focused it and prepared to push it outward. She wanted an outlet for the fire he'd left in her. He fought the urge to drop into a fighting crouch and unsheathe his claws.
"Don't even think about it darlin'," he growled.
He watched as she closed her eyes and shuddered. When she opened them he saw she was again in control. Despite her tears he knew she wasn't weak, on the contrary she was incredibly dangerous. It was one of the things he found most attractive about her. Even hurting as she was she still stood up to him and he respected that, but as much as he admired her show of strength this wasn't finished. Not by a long shot.
He crossed the room and stopped in front of her. He stared into her eyes and spoke softly in a voice that shook with suppressed rage.
"Don't you ever fuckin' do that again. Don't you ever come to me smelling of him, Jeannie. Not ever."
Her eyes lingered over his features as her hands wished to and she nodded as he turned and strode from the room because deep down they both knew she would come to him again and next time there would be no games and no anger, only agonizing pleasure and hands that still held on too tight.