A/N: Okay, need to get a few things out here. First off, THIS CHAPTER IS RATED R. And secondly, I feel like this is getting too angsty but whatever. I shall forge ahead and see what comes outta this. There are some painful inconsistencies thus far, too. Katie is blonde but when I first started writing I portrayed her as more of a, well, "brunette." Just ignore any of that. And for the years, Oliver died like five and a half years ago.

Oh, and real quick…

talkytalkyme – *evil cackle*… We'll find out what (or who) Bell wants, m'dear. =)

Scarlett Darling – I would never leave a fic like that! I'd kill ME if I was you reading it and it nuclear bombed on me like that for a piss poor excuse of an ending. Hahaha, I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long!

Sugar-coated Sushi – Thanx for the enthusiastic/fantastic/totally encouraging reviews! Sorry for making you wait so long but I'm currently getting slammed by midterms. Ack!

XxSToRmYxX – I don't know if you'll be reading this anytime soon, but you are too fabulous. Thanx for going through the trouble just for me. I couldn't believe it when I read it. Hahaha.

Sara-Wackadoo – Much thanx for the featurette on your site, and torturing you guys is so much fun!

Daphne – Nooo, I wouldn't leave y'all hanging like that. ;)

And to everyone else who commented and added me to some list as well, you guys rock my world. Seriously.

Spanking good. Let's get a move on!

Disclaimer: Totally not mine. If it were, man, I'd be one happy mofo of a billionaire.

The Whirlwind

Flint was tired of trying to be the nice guy. He'd spent most of his life being an asshole, and even though people were scared as fuck of him, at least he'd gotten what he'd wanted. With Bell, no matter how gentlemanly he was, it didn't do him any good and trying to be civil to her was too hard to strive for anymore.

When he had seen her outside his door, it was like she'd stepped out from his very thoughts, a light in the fading darkness. But she was something he'd never have. Good things happened to good people, and Flint knew he wasn't good people.

The only way to make her go away was to feign disinterest, but the girl just couldn't take a hint. She'd gotten her pretty little arse right into his rampaging face and glared at him until he couldn't ignore her anymore and Salazar only knew what the hell he'd do if he could get his hands on her.

You just didn't fuck with his brooding time.

Unless you were Katie Bell.

And mock him until he lost his temper.

Unless you were Katie Bell.

Sweet Salazar, the woman made him see red every time she opened her mouth.

Flint stared at her, waiting for her to back down, shut the fuck up, and get out of his flat. Unfortunately, what he got was a contemptuous, defiant stare. How the hell did everything he plan backfire with her?

Katie took in a shaky breath and swallowed.

"Flint?"

"Marcus," he rumbled.

"What?" Katie shot him a puzzled look and tried to ease out of his tenuous hold on her.

"I liked it better when you called me Marcus."

He took a long, hard look at her and let go of her hair, picking his bottle of firewhiskey back up. He grinned sourly to himself. After this he was going to have to treat himself to something nice because he never thought his resolute will could've stood so much from the fiery Ms. Bell. Especially since all he thought about around her was getting into her knickers.

"All right, Marcus. Nothing happened," she said frostily. She straightened and stepped back.

There was that tone again.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Flint snapped, rising to the bait.

"Nothing. I'd think you could understand the concept you tried so hard to explain to me previously." She was throwing his words right back at him.

"Don't push it," he said hoarsely. Feeling his temper rising, rising, rising…

She threw a scathing look at him and grabbed his firewhiskey again. Flint watched as she took an unusually large swill, finishing off the bottle, before bursting into a fit of coughing. She swiped at her tearing eyes while she began her loud tirade. "If you want to be an asshole and sit there and feel sorry for yourself for the rest of your bloody life, go right ahead. I don't know why I ever thought you were worth a second chance, because obviously you don't care. You'd rather be alone and miserable than actually face whatever it is that's chasing you. I never thought you'd be such a spineless--"

"Shut up," Flint growled gutturally.

"Fuck you. Don't tell me to shut up. You shut up. Don't yell at me because I'm right--"

"You don't know anything about me," Flint roared.

"I know you're a scared little--"

Flint had moved so fast she hadn't even been able to react.

He jerked the bottle out of her hand, sending her crashing into him, as his mouth took hers in a violent attempt to make her shut up. He used the subtle pressure of his mouth and stroked his tongue over hers ruthlessly. He had, of course, only meant to stem the flow of words pouring from her mouth but he should've known better. As soon as he got his hands on her, he went insane, and even the sharp, coppery taste of blood couldn't stop him.

The truth was he was just drunk enough to jump her, but not drunk enough to pass out.

Katie slung her arms around his bare back to steady herself. The feel of every hard muscle, bunched together and perfectly sculpted, made her sigh in approval. She heard the distant sound of glass meeting wood as he dropped the bottle to wrap an arm around her waist, the other going to her hair.

He bore her down to the ground, never taking his mouth off hers. She whimpered at the feel of the cold floor beneath her, but forgot about her discomfort when she felt his hard hands on the zipper of her jeans. He didn't give her a chance to protest, unbuttoning, unzipping, undressing…

They were caught in the same whirlwind and she just didn't care anymore.

She arched upwards to aid him in pulling down her jeans, and he reached for the fastenings on his own pants. He tore at the buttons and kicked his trousers off in a heated rush.

She felt her hands on him and cried out as he thrust into her viciously. He felt utterly savage, stoked by the need he'd carried for her for so many years. Even in his drunken frenzy, he knew he should stop but he couldn't have, even if he had tried.

He rode her hard, reveling in the way she lifted her hips to match his frenzied rhythm. In the dark, both their doggedness had cracked and he pounded into her relentlessly. Her nails dug into the smooth planes of his back, her legs locked around his waist, and her body bowed beneath him as she climaxed hard and fast, completely taken by surprise.

Flint followed her lead, bent down and kissed her hard, letting the taste of her blood sink into him, as he stiffened and emptied himself into her. It seemed like an eternity before he finally fell over on top of her.

Her slender arms were still wrapped around his back and silence surrounded them like a peaceful cocoon. She couldn't even being to explain what the hell had just happened. She had asked for it, but she had wanted it, too. She breathed in shallow whispers because his weight was still boring down on her.

"Marcus?" She said quietly, kissing his shoulder softly.

He rolled his hips against her slowly, making her gasp harshly.

"Not now, Bell. I'm not done with you yet."

"What do you mean?"

He showed her.