Ray exhales when I help him ease his pants over his hips. His erection springs free, bobbing gently in my direction, and I lean forward and take a little lick.

He grips my hair, tilting my head back, and growls. “Don’t play.”

“Okay,” I whisper, torn between excitement and a niggle of concern over my ability to handle him taking so much control.

Ray wraps his hand around mine, curving us both over his thick shaft, and strokes hard. The feel of him hot and throbbing in my palm sends spasms through my groin.

“Harder.” He barks his command as he squeezes my hand around his shaft, his tone so gruff and unfamiliar my heart skips a little beat. Is this the dark side of him he didn’t want me to see? The Ray who likes pain?

We stroke him together until his cock is rock hard, and then Ray releases my hand and I lean forward and take him into my mouth, my tongue stroking up and down his length, praying my inexperience doesn’t show. But whatever I’m doing must be right because he grips my hair and arches into me.

“That’s it. Take it all.”

His words make my clit tingle, and I take him deep, my cheeks sucking inward as I increase the pressure. Oh God. It’s so deliciously, illicitly dirty to be kneeling at Ray’s feet in the studio with his cock in my mouth, the wooden floor hard beneath my knees. How many times did I fantasize about doing something like this, never imagining for a second it would ever come true?

Wrapping one hand around the base of his shaft, I work it in counterpoint to my mouth. Ray’s breathing turns ragged and his erection thickens, becoming impossibly hard. I inhale his scent of soap and musky male, and try to focus on the slide of my lips over his smooth skin and not the ache at the juncture of my thighs.

“Touch yourself.” His rasped command is almost a relief. Without hesitation, I slide my hand between my legs and toy with my piercing.

“Fuck.” He wraps his hand around mine and squeezes, my grip on his cock at least twice as tight as before. Shocked at how hard he wants to be touched, I look up at him. Ray stares down at me, his fingers still in my hair. My breath catches at the raw hunger in his eyes—and something else, hiding in the shadows, feeding on his pain.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

Heat rushes between my legs, and I let out a moan as my clit pulses and throbs. God, I could come just from the filthy things he says.

“You like that.” He tugs my head back, forcing me to look up at him.

“Yes.”

“Good. ’Cause I’m gonna hold you still and fuck your pretty mouth, and you’re gonna dig your little claws into my thighs as hard as you can.”

“I can’t hurt you like that.”

“Pain pays for the pleasure.” He reaches down and pinches my nipple, finding my piercing through my clothes and pulling it so hard I gasp. “Pleasure me. Take me deep.”

And I do. I lean forward and take him in my mouth again, trying to relax my throat when he pushes in so far I gag. He pulls back just enough for me to recover, then holds my head still and plunges in again.

Pressure builds inside me, and I rock my hips frantically against my hand as he drives deep and withdraws, his thighs taut and quivering beneath my other palm.

Sweat beads on my forehead as I fight back the fear of losing control. This is what I fantasized about. Rough, not gentle. Used, not pampered. Dominated instead of dominating. I wanted the Predator—raw, wild, untamed. And now I have him.

“Do it,” he rasps, pressing my hand against his leg. “Now. Let me feel your claws, kitten.”

I grip his leg, digging my nails into his skin. This is as much pain as I can give, and even this is too much for me.

Ray’s entire body goes rigid and the sound that comes from his chest is at once a growl and a groan. His hand tightens on my hair so hard, my eyes water, and his shaft thickens until it is a struggle to take him all.

“Sia.” He arches into my mouth, yanking me forward to meet his impatient thrusts. So rough. So dirty. So damn confusing. But I feel—every emotion, every sensation.

His cock swells; then he comes with a groan, driving so deep I gag as he spurts down my throat.

“Jesus. Fuck.” With a roar, he rips himself away, leaving me stunned and panting on the floor. And then I see the blood, four little crescents from my nails in his skin.

“Oh God. I hurt you. I’m so sorry. Let me wash it. I didn’t mean for it to go so far.”

“Neither did I.” His voice flattens. “That’s a side of me I didn’t mean to share.”

Fear and confusion give way to anger. Why doesn’t he want to share himself when he asks the same of me? “I know you like pain. I know you get off when I use the tattoo machine on you. It’s okay with me. Why don’t you want to share it?”

“Because when I’m around you, I lose control. I don’t know how far I’ll go.” He grabs his jeans and yanks them over his hips.

“I like who you are, Ray. I want to know about you and what you need.”

He pulls on his T-shirt, wincing slightly from the fresh tattoo. “I don’t want you to be part of my pain. I failed the people I cared about most, and I gotta live with that for the rest of my days. You’ve got your own demons to deal with. I won’t give you mine.”

Stunned speechless, I watch him turn and walk away.

Chapter 16

Who is he? Gimme a name.

Priority: Confidential

Bay Area Underground Fight Club (BUFC) Fight Night