Chapter 8
Mine
Logan slammed the toilet seat down and parked his ass on the porcelain. She was taunting him with the swing of her hips and the lazy, slack movements as she stepped into the shower. She was fucking taunting him. Taunting him, the motherfucking Wolverine.
He watched the long hair tumble down her pale back, the rough and ready thoughts hardening his cock. It clawed against the denim jail, desperate to return to their mate's slick and welcomed warmth. Hellbent on breaking out of solitary confinement and riding the goddamn waves of another meeting between the sheets.
One swift motion of his zipper and he could take her in the shower, pound her against the wall until the tiles came loose. Fuck her into oblivion, suck on her tits, make her scream his name. His inner animal demanded that he do everything in his power to banish the bruises on her skin and mark her as his. Bite her until she begged him to stop, explore her folds with his tongue.
He stood, determined to do something to halt the ache in the crotch of his pants. Jerking off wasn't an option because he had her now. Marie. His Marie. She would wash away the tension with the roll of her tongue across his eager length.
"Logan?"
Her soft and sultry Southern voice snapped him out of the musings, and he made the mistake of looking at her. Shit, she looked innocent, hesitant, unsure of his presence. He smelled the desperation mixed with lust and neediness. His eyes settled on the bruises across her collar bone, and a growl rumbled from his lips.
"Shower and make it quick," he snapped, eyes dancing over the heady summit of her thighs. That particular place called him home, humming a beckoning tune, and his fingers twitched.
Marie complied with the rumbled order, reluctantly, but it was compliance, nevertheless. While Logan's head swam with the stench of yearning. He couldn't fuck her; she hadn't earned it yet. His dick deep inside her was a reward for good, submissive behaviour. And shit, he read her body language like his favourite porn magazine and could probably masturbate to it, too.
"You're taking your sweet time. What are you planning in that pretty head of yours, huh?"
She glanced at him, the annoyance of not being touched evident on her face. "Curiosity will only kill the Wolverine."
He snorted at the show of attitude. "Yeah, well, I'm all out of patience, so hurry it up."
Her movements were now tightly controlled, her gaze toughened, and shoulders stiff. She stepped under the torrent of warm water, reached for the bar of soap, and he recognised the emergence of Rogue.
It was textbook behaviour where Marie was concerned, and shit; he should have seen this coming. He hadn't seen the pattern at first, not when she acted out around others. But after the first time they'd truly swapped furious words, fought over the stupid-assed decisions she'd made on her first solo mission, he had come face to face with Rogue. Except this time, he was the one in control and wouldn't be ducking from a vase tossed at his goddamn head.
He smirked and shook his head. "If I'd known Rogue would be dropping by, I'd have rolled out the red carpet," he snorted with an ever-vocal eyebrow voicing its own opinion on the matter.
A pair of sullen eyes met his amused face. "Standing there watching makes you a pervert, Logan. Did you know that?"
"You know what, I kinda like that title. You think I can get it on a mug?" Logan bit back the shit-eating grin. He smelled her anger at the remark and noticed her furiously working her hands and bar of soap closer towards those slick inner thighs.
"If you don't touch me, I'll find someone that will," she warned, her accent thickening and fingers lost in the soapy suds.
Although he took it more as a thinly veiled threat, the Wolverine didn't respond with peacekeeping in mind. A growl reverberated from his chest, the vibrations causing the ache in his pants to reach the heady heights of full-blown martyrdom.
He pointed at her with an erection and an index finger. "You wouldn't get past me, and your ass ain't leaving this goddamn apartment."
"You're an arrogant asshole, but there are ways to sneak past even the likes of you, Wolverine," she scoffed, flicking the wet hair from her face and turning the shower off.
Logan contemplated how many times he could take her before she even knew what was happening. Show her how he liked it rough and how she would like it, too. But he had to control his urges, at least for now. When she quit acting like an out-of-control southerner with a one-track mind, he'd throw on a battered coal miner's helmet and explore that tight, hot and humid heat.
Chuckling to himself, he shook his head. "Those are some big fighting words, Darlin'."
Nothing but words leaking from the lips of a mattress turned mate. Yeah, she likes to run her mouth. I don't usually take a second sniff at the loud-mouthed types, but I'll always share a sack with the screamers.
As he stalked towards the door with a smirk on his face, a tumble, a ruckus, and the weight of her words slammed against his solid chest. Swinging around and catching the wet, soapy Marie in his arms, he chuckled again. She fought against his tightening grip as he captured both her wrists, securing them in one swoop of a large palm.
The chuckle faded, replaced with a glower and a grimace. "Nice try, but you're a little rusty, too slow and at a disadvantage."
Her eyes narrowed at the assessment, and she tilted her head with sheer determination shimmering in her gaze.
"Logan, would you mind at all if I…?" she whispered teasingly, the heat rising in her tone and felt his grip loosen and relax. Her svelte fingers unbuckled his belt and unfastened the button of his favourite pair of jeans.
"If you what?" Logan's voice sounded gruffer than usual as her hand slipped somewhere magical and stroked at his favourite appendage. He was sure it was an appendage, and it would be labelled as such. His dick was as big as his fucking limbs and could be used as a spare leg if necessary.
Then Marie did something he never would have expected in a million goddamn years. She sunk to her knees, still naked and looking all the more fuckable with her lips waiting patiently for the tip of his willing package. He eased his member out, watching it spring free and stand to attention.
She took every inch of him, and he was fucking enormous. There was no boasting on his part, either. He was big, huge even. With the wolfish grin taking a skydive, he rumbled in approval and mulled over whether he'd have her tonsils hooked on his impressive member when he pulled out.
If so, that would be a real accomplishment on his part, and he might have to reconsider his stance on Career Day. Yeah, maybe a surgeon was the way to go. He would remove women's tonsils with his dick and get off on it at the same time. After all, he loved getting sucked off. It was the same feeling he experienced when his hockey team thrashed their rivals or he smashed through another record in a Danger Room simulation. Jokes booted aside, the Wolverine hit Heaven with a powerful grunt of approval.
"Goddamn, Marie," he hissed as she avoided dragging her teeth over his appreciative length.
Fuck every ice hockey tournament going. This was even fucking better. She glanced up at him with those big brown eyes, and he caved, willing to do anything and everything for her and those special skills she demonstrated. He'd bend over backwards, grow a handlebar moustache, become a vegetarian, sell his motorcycle, and only wear pink flannel if she asked him to. He'd box up that wide-screen TV of his and hurl it into the mansion's lake, stuff his handcuff collection up his ass, and sing show tunes on Broadway every goddamn day until hell froze over.
Fuck, she's good. So, fucking good. This is the best I've ever had. So many bimbos and barflies have sucked me off over the years; too many to remember. But they were only tacky whores with their bleach blond hair, false nails, and always left lipstick stains and a trail of disappointment behind.
This girl is different. I've watched her grow over the years, seen her tackle mistakes head-on, and sat with her when she shed tears over some drama I didn't give a shit about. Her whoring days are over now. The only fucker that will have her lips wrapped around his cock, is me. Hell, I'm the biggest fucker going in more ways than one. Look at her, my Marie on her knees sucking my tension away.
Logan fished for his voice and found it after battling the urge to spill his seed. Yeah, it had been waiting for one hell of a climax. Growling in gratitude, he stared her down until she swallowed every last drop.
Tucking his well-taken-care-of member back inside its snug home and zipping it away from her unwavering gaze, he arched an eyebrow at her.
"You do some decent work," he acknowledged gruffly, buckling his belt.
Marie offered a smile in response, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I know," she replied from her spot at his feet, cockiness sitting atop her shoulders for all to see.
She was too sure of herself, and he needed to put her squarely back in her place where she belonged. Yeah, he didn't pull any punches and wasn't about to start now. You could judge the evening away; he didn't give a shit. This was all for her benefit, keeping the Rogue under control and far away from leading Marie onto the streets.
Logan scratched at his jaw and reached for the back pocket where he kept his wallet. "How much do you charge for that service, huh?"
Sure enough, the southerner's anger instantly spiked, and she clambered sourly to her feet for somebody who had just had the added luxury of giving him a blow job. Goddamn women. He'd never understand them. They'd screech and get excited over petty shit like who was crowned a winner on some shitty reality show. But when they caught sight of his dick, or he came in their mouth, there was nothing but an attitude.
Fuck you, Logan," she snapped, swinging her clenched fist back and hoping to catch him unaware. Maybe she was too pissed to care, not that it mattered because his reflexes were second to none.
One swift movement, and he spun Marie around, securing her into place with a firm, no-nonsense grip. With her back crushed against his chest, a brawny arm slid across her breasts. His lips brushed over her neck, teeth tenderly clamping down on ashen skin and making her shudder and moan. The Wolverine needed to mark his girl before a rule could be laid down. It had to be done his way. The scent of her lust caused him to smirk as he bit into the flesh, relishing in the knowledge that she loved the feral side of his personality.
"Yeah, that's right, Marie. You'll be fucking me, and only me. I ever smell another scent on this perfect skin of yours or catch you straying, you'll see a different side of me," he snarled, fingers bruising her hips.
The thought of hurting Marie didn't sit right with him, making his blood run cold. But his infamous temper was hard to tame at times, and he couldn't, no, wouldn't share her with anybody.
She didn't answer, and he didn't much care. The message had hit home, and all she needed to do was glance at her reflection in the mirror, and his words would come crashing down on any stupidly plotted plan. Marie was now marked; her lips tainted with his taste, and she belonged to him.
"Go get dressed, Darlin'," Logan commanded, pushing her gently toward the duffle bag and ignoring the lust-filled look tossed his way. After all, she could wait, and it wasn't like either of them were going anywhere any time soon. "And eat some pizza. You'll need the energy."
A muttered curse of "Asshole" followed by the slam of the bathroom door drew nothing more than a furrowed brow. The spitfire attitude turned him on to such a point he wanted to throw the door open and fuck her from behind as she rummaged for clothing.
She's right, I'm an asshole. Hell, I'm surprised it took her so long to come to that conclusion. And I shouldn't be ramming anything anywhere, at least until she dials down the attitude and remembers why we're here.
Letting the cold tap run at the sink, Logan sighed and listened to the TV volume rise. His enhanced hearing detected the sounds of Marie dressing until it was drowned out entirely by a rolling news bulletin detailing the average weight of cheese in Wisconsin. The channel soon changed, forcing the noise of a shitty pop tune into his ungrateful head.
Splashing his face with water and hoping to crush those urges until he was ready to unleash them on a well-behaved and wanting Marie, he mulled over the past twenty-four hours.
He had no idea where any of these dominating thoughts had originated from. It wasn't often that he acted out those fantasies or tacked on the cuffs into a heavy fucking session. They had developed a relationship from the ashes of Jean's death, then run with it. Fuck the baseball bats and baggage. He didn't want to cool things or sidestep the bullshit. So, she wanted to take a whistle-stop tour of the city and fuck every guy she encountered. He disapproved and would stamp out that desire.
The Wolverine wanted to be the only person to touch and taste her, feel her slick walls tightening against his member as he took her roughly on the couch with her hands cuffed behind her back.
Maybe he'd always liked bounding women up, restricting their movements, and being in control, even before the memory loss. Or could it just be that he was a kinky asshole that got off on shiny objects?
Rolling his eyes as the music continued to assault his eardrums, he turned off the tap and stalked to the door. It's easy enough to handle a rattled Rogue. How hard could it be?
"Not fucking hard at all," he growled ferociously, his eyes narrowing dangerously and cocked an eyebrow at the empty apartment.
His rapidly darkening gaze swept the room, pinpointing the TV, his empty pocket and the front door left wide open in her rush to escape.
She'd fucking played him. Marie had played him, the Wolverine. Sucking him off had been a ruse to steal the key from his pocket. She had planned every little detail, even shifting the volume up on the TV to mask the sounds of her unlocking the door and knowing full well that he'd hang back in the bathroom after she'd stormed out.
Realisation slowly dawned on Logan, and he barrelled out the door, determined to track down his prey. The longer he stood there acting like a pansy ass and letting his brain conjure up ways to rectify the situation, she gained ground and held the advantage.
His combat boots pounded against the carpeted floor as he tore down the communal corridor, following her scent and skidding to a stop beside the fire doors. She hadn't taken the elevator but the stairs instead. He heard her heavy breathing, her lungs screaming for respite as she scurried down each step, the mumbled curses flying from her Southern lips when she almost tripped.
Logan's face schooled into a cold and calculated feral smirk, and he slammed the doors open, not caring if the sounds scared her shitless. Far-flung from sheer anger, his raging thoughts could easily have been housed on a different continent to the rest of him. Somewhere warm, maybe, with hourly cage matches and an obedient mate.
Sure enough, when he gazed over the railings, cockily leaning an arm over the side and caught sight of Marie's startled face, she smelled frightened and looked it, too, until the Rogue reappeared.
Shit. Look at that mean scowl of hers. The girl really does have some balls. I'm hard, and it's all for her and that attitude of hers. This isn't just about dragging her ass onto the right path any longer. Nah, I want to own every inch of that body of hers. She needs to be mine.
That might make me the biggest bastard going, but I don't fucking care. If she stays in my bed and by my side every minute of the Goddamn day, then nobody will ever lay a finger on her again. They won't touch what's mine, they won't fuck what's mine, and they won't pay for what's mine.
I can break that cute attitude of hers with my dick, and she sure as hell won't be running again. If I have to leave her alone, she'll be handcuffed to my bed from now on. Stripped naked and waiting for me to return and fuck her into the mattress. The girl can't be trusted yet, but she'll learn. Mark my words, she'll fucking learn the hard way.
She stopped for a moment and hesitated, but that quickly morphed into self-assurance and a heavy dose of confidence that would lead to her downfall.
Wolverine pushed himself lazily off the railing, taking the time to crack the uncomfortable kink out of his neck. Rolling his shoulders, he readjusted the big-ass belt buckle and scratched his heavy-set jaw.
"Let the good times roll," he muttered with a chuckle, stopping short of checking his watch, and with a deafening roar, sprinted after her.
