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At Their Best When They're Angry

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The drugs were getting to him tonight.

No, not the drugs. It was her.

He’d managed to flip her switch on, but there was no bulb in the socket. Yet. That would come. And he was going to relish every second it took to screw it in.

The whole charade with the protesters couldn’t have gone more perfectly. The signs were hilarious. The crowd was amply motivated. The text from Vin was right on time. You’re about to have company.

And Ally, ah. She played her part like she was born for it. Trying to reason with a mob. Believing she was that exceptional. Realizing her foolishness too late. Blaming it on them.

She was a gift.

But actually, Kai thought as he poured a healthy glob of lube into his palm, it could have gone more perfectly.

* * *

"Get in," she says.

She wants to talk. Of course she does. Okay, he's good at that.

He paces as slowly as he can around the front of her car, his eyes never leaving hers. He does it to piss her off, and it works. She lays on the horn. He jumps, raises his hands in conciliation.

Get in, she mouths dramatically through the windshield.

It's some kind of SUV. Of course it is. New car smell and everything. "Nice," he says, running his palm over the dash. "Do you lease?"

The car takes off with a screeching of tires.

"Oh, okay." He grabs for the door handle with one hand and the seat belt with the other. "You know, this is exactly how female drivers earn their reputation."

"Just shut up," she snaps.

She turns, and the main street facades slip away in the rear view mirror. Warehouses loom in the view ahead. She's flying.

"Should I be concerned about where you're taking me?"

"Anywhere's an improvement on the hole you crawled out of, I imagine."

God, he's hard. By the time they come to a skiddish stop on a gravel turnoff, he's practically splitting his pants open.

She slams the car into park and rounds on him. "What was that?"

He smirks. "A miracle?"

"A miracle, yeah, all right." She pinches the bridge of her nose for a moment and then shifts in her seat to face him, grabbing his seat's headrest. "Who the hell are you?"

The blue heart catches his eye. Her chest is heaving, the bottom tip of the pendant pointing to the tiniest hint of cleavage.

"Who do you want me to be?"

* * *

No, no, that was too much talking.

It should have gone more like this.

* * *

She parks in the alley behind their restaurant. Right outside the back door. Yards away, her wife is hacking at carcasses and steaming milk.

She lunges over the console, searching the side of his seat until he hears a soft pop and the seat goes careening backwards with a hard jolt.

"Seriously?" he asks.

In a blur, she's all over him. She straddles his lap and slams her mouth against his. Their teeth clank, their tongues rolling hot and slick against each other. He works his hands into her overcoat and down her to ass, jerking her up against him, encouraging her to grind.

She grinds so hard on him that it shakes the car.

He can't get enough of her neck. He attacks it open-mouthed, dragging his tongue up her jugular, sucking hard at the soft spot under her ear. It's not enough. He rips open her shirt. Her sensible, oversized, boring white shirt. She's wearing a likewise sensible bra underneath. He yanks the cups down and mauls the soft flesh with his fingers. The blue heart dangles just above, teasing him.

Possessed, he grabs the chain and tightens his fist around it until it digs into her neck. Her eyes go wide. "Don't fucking tease me," he warns.

She bares her teeth at him, clawing her pants open. She takes his hand and shoves it inside them. She's absolutely sloppy with arousal. "Does that feel serious enough for you, asshole?"

* * *

God, that was good. Real good.

But it could have been better still.

* * *

He lands on the mattress hard enough to make the breath whoosh out of him.

"Really?" he pants, propping himself up on his elbows. "In the bed you share with your wife?" He squints at her as she sheds her clothes. "Or do you share it with her?"

She slaps him across the face so hard he swears he feels vertebrae pop.

"You goddamn—"

She does it again. Then she climbs over him, twisting his shirt in her fist. "The only words I want to hear from you are yes." She jerks down his zipper. "And please." She grabs his pants and boxers and yanks them down his thighs. "And more."

She takes hold of his leaking cock and slowly sinks down onto it.

He throws his head back, letting out a hoarse shout. He's still wearing his overcoat, for fuck's sake. He manages to shrug halfway out of it before she slams his wrists down beside his head. He could easily overpower her, but why would he? Her cunt is sopping wet and tight as a velvet-gloved fist around him.

And the way she moves.

She settles all the way down on his length and bucks her hips in a hard, steady rhythm. She lets go of his wrists and plants her palms on his chest for leverage. Her hair is messed up, already dampening with sweat. Her small breasts bounce, that blue heart smacking against her chest with every hard thrust of her hips. He wonders how long it's been since this bed has seen so much action.

She starts to tense up, starts to shake. Oh no, she's not gonna come. Fuck that.

He easily flips her.

"What the—"

"Yes," he hisses, his fingers wrapping around the base of her skull and pressing her face to the mattress. He slides back into her from behind. She's worked herself open well enough to take the full force of his hunger, and he's going to give it to her. He slams himself inside her to the hilt, glorying in her shocked gasp.

"Get the fuck off—"

"Please," he whispers in her ear, flattening her against the mattress, trapping her with his whole body. He revels in her wet heat; he pumps his hips faster just so he can hear the obscene sounds her cunt makes under the assault.

"I swear to god—"

"More," he snarls, shoving three fingers in her mouth. She bites into them. He feels the ticklish rise of climax in the base of his spine, just as his skin breaks under her teeth. He sinks his own teeth into her shoulder and drives home in one last brutal thrust.

* * *


Like that.

Kai sank back on the sofa, dragging his hand down his face. His cock slowly softened against his sticky abdomen, spent.

His phone chimed in the distance, but he ignored it, digging around in the sofa cushions for his prescription bottle.

Just like that.

That bulb was going to burn so bright.