Rogue - Michele Mannon Page 0,16
is free, close to my thigh, close to . . . This. Is. War. Baby.
I reach between his legs, aiming for his darling twins, but he lifts up and all I’m left grasping is his manhood.
Holy sweet hell. Balls are so much more manageable in a situation like this. Hadn’t I been trained in down-and-dirty rape-prevention techniques? Still, it’s a proven fact that men think with their cocks. And Jaxson, let me tell you, is a big thinker.
Thoughts about what I might do are probably racing around inside because beneath my palm, I feel him swelling thicker, hotter, bigger, and bigger still.
I squeeze tighter.
He laughs, then murmurs in my ear, “I like it rough.”
Sure enough, I feel him grow harder.
“My kind of woman.”
I grunt. “I think all women fit that category.”
“Fireball.”
“Jax-ass.”
“You don’t stand a chance, you know,” he informs me in a more somber tone.
Yeah, we’ll see about that. I just need to survive him. I shoot him a cocky grin and his eyes flash like I’ve caught him off guard. Perfect. With a full fist, I box him on the ear.
He rolls off me, cupping the side of his face like I hurt him.
I frown because I know better. It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than that little punch to crack his thick skull open. Without thinking too deeply about it, I scramble to my feet.
He comes at me and swings. I duck and shift to the side. My frown is now a full blown-out scowl. Either he’s the worst fighter in the place and just caught a lucky break with Broken-Nose or he’s messing with me.
Mimicking his prior move, he charges forward. I dodge his lame-ass punch once again.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
“Just play along with me.”
My eyebrows arch, disbelieving.
“Trust me,” he says with a bloody wink.
That’s all the encouragement I need to land a solid kick to his side. Instead of angering him, he grins like a fool.
I follow it up with the hard heel of my hand to his chin and a punch in the kidney. Just like I’ve trained to do.
He swings wide and misses, but keeps himself good and close and within range.
“You’re letting me win? Why?” I demand.
“This has nothing to do with being the last person standing—which is what most of these guys think.”
“You heard Hayden. He’s looking for winners,” I correct him. “Give me one good reason why should I listen to you?”
I kick and connect with his side.
“I’ll give you two, fireball.” He lands a surprise punch on my shoulder, but pulls it so it’s barely a tap. “One: I’ll need you to help me survive Hell Camp.”
Now that’s downright laughable. “If you and I make it through this morning.”
“Tsk, tsk. Have a little more faith in these guys’ total lack of understanding. This isn’t about being the strongest man.” He lands another tap on my other shoulder and I follow it up with a crack to his thick skull. “This isn’t a fight about strength. Or who’s the most brutal fighter. This is a test of wits. Instinct. Adaptability.”
“So you’re saying I don’t have to hand you your ass or anyone else theirs?” I can’t help myself as a grin spreads across my lips. “All I’ve got to do is prove I’m . . . what? Clever? Creative even?”
“Yep. You’re sharp—I knew the moment you outsmarted my crew back in that field. Smart enough to outthink these guys. You just need to start thinking outside the box. Stop relying on the obvious.” He cross punches the air, brushing the back of his fist across my girls. My nipples harden, like one’s waving hello and the other saying, “Where are you going?”
“So you believe my tits are my weapon of choice?” I say a little too smugly.
Damn it. Don’t give yourself away. I stick out my chest, giving my girls a good jiggle as I move.
“Your rack, your entire fucking body, is your weapon and my downfall. The things I want to do to you. Pinch your nipples like I did before. Feast on your breasts, suck and fuck them. Lick you between your thighs and watch you come on my face. Fuck you and make you cry out my name. Yeah, you’re a weapon I’ll gladly sacrifice myself to have. Yep, you’ll be a pleasurable diversion helping me get through my fifth time at Camp.”
Oh sweet mother Mary. I’m winded like he’s landed a punch. “What?” I whisper.
He reaches out and runs his thumb