His cock stood up straight, thick and veined, the head glistening with proof of his need for her. Shadera wrapped her hand around it, squeezing just enough to make his eyes flutter shut. She let him see her, all of her, just for a moment, then sank down, taking him in a single, unhesitating motion.

They both groaned at the contact, the sound coming out of Shadera’s mouth too close to a whimper for her liking. She rode him slow at first, her pace measured and controlled.

Jameson’s hands found her waist, then her ass, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he said, letting his head drop back onto a bundled blanket. “You always feel so fucking good.”

She leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of his head, and picked up the pace. Each roll of her hips was deliberate, calculated to draw out the exact sounds she wanted from him. His breathing went ragged, chest heaving beneath her as she worked him with the same precision she used to dismantle her guns.

“Shut up,” she breathed, but her body betrayed her, clenching around him at the praise.

She hated how he could make her respond like this, hated the way her pulse hammered when he looked at her like she was more than just a weapon.

His thumb found her clit, circling with practiced strokes.

“You like it when I tell you how perfect you are,” he murmured, voice rough with want. “You get so wet for me.”

Shadera’s rhythm faltered, a sharp intake of breath escaping her lips. She pressed her palms flat against his chest, using the leverage to ride him harder, faster. “I said shut up.”

Jameson wouldn’t be silenced.

His free hand tangled in her hair, pulling her down until their foreheads nearly touched. “Tell me you want this,” he demanded. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want—” The words caught in her throat as he drove up into her, meeting her movement with a brutal thrust. “Fuck. I want you to stop talking.”

He laughed, the sound dark and knowing. “That’s not what your body’s saying.” His grip tightened in her hair. “You’re so tight around me, Shade. So perfect. Like you were made for this.”

Heat coiled low in her belly, building with each stroke. She could feel herself losing control, her composure cracking under the assault of sensation, and his relentless words.

“You think about this when you’re alone?” Jameson’s voice dropped to a whisper, intimate and devastating. “Think about me inside you? About me fucking you breathless?”

“No,” she lied, but her hips screamed the truth, grinding down frantically against him.

“Liar.” His thumb pressed harder against her clit, and she bit back a cry. “I think about you all the time. Think about making you come undone like this.”

The admission hit her with surprising force. She could see it in his eyes—the raw honesty, the desperate need that went deeper than flesh. It terrified her more than any blade or bullet ever could.

“Fuck you,” she spat at him.

“You already are.” He grinned up at her, that infuriating smile that made her want to kiss and kill him at the same time. “And you’re about to come all over me, aren’t you, Shade?”

Without warning, she pulled away from him, leaving them both gasping at the sudden absence. Before he could protest, she flipped onto her hands and knees, presenting herself to him like an offering.

“Take me like this,” she commanded, glancing back over her shoulder. “And for fuck’s sake, stop being gentle.”

Jameson’s eyes darkened with something primal. He moved behind her, hands gripping her hips as he positioned himself at her entrance. “Are you sure?”

“Do it.”

He slammed into her, burying himself to the hilt in one excruciating thrust. Shadera cried out, her fingers clawing at the blankets as he set a punishing pace.

This was what she needed—raw, mindless friction that drowned out everything else.

“That’s it,” he growled, one hand sliding up her spine to grip the back of her neck. “Take all of me.”

Each thrust drove her forward, the force of it making the bed frame creak against the wall. She pushed back against him, meeting his rhythm with hunger.

“Harder,” she gasped through clenched teeth.

The sound of flesh against flesh echoed off the concrete, punctuated by their ragged breathing and the occasional curse torn from her lips.

Jameson’s grip on her body tightened, fingers digging into the soft flesh at her hips, his other hand flexing across the base of her neck.

“This what you wanted?” he growled, his voice strained with effort and desire.

“Yes.” The admission ripped from her throat.

Her body was betraying her again, responding to his rough handling with desperation that made her hate herself.

He leaned over her, chest pressed against her back, his mouth at her ear. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he whispered. “Taking everything I give you.”

The praise sent electricity down her spine, and she felt herself clenching around him involuntarily. She could feel the tension building, that familiar coil of heat threatening to snap.

The angle hit something devastating inside her, sending sparks of fire through her veins. She bit down on her wrist to muffle the sounds threatening to escape. But Jameson noticed—he always noticed.

“Don’t hide from me,” he commanded, his hand tangling in her hair and pulling her head back. “Moan for me, Shade.”

The heat building inside her reached a breaking point at the sound of his words. Her body exploded around him, muscles contracting as waves of pleasure crashed through her. She came with a broken cry, her release coating him as her legs trembled with the force of it.

“Fuck, yes,” Jameson groaned as she spasmed around him. “That’s my girl.”

He pulled out suddenly, his hand working himself as he spilled across her back with a guttural moan. Hot liquid painted her skin as he shuddered through his climax.

They collapsed together, breathing hard in the warehouse’s frigid air. Shadera felt the wetness cooling on her back, marking her in a way that should have disgusted her, but somehow didn’t.

“Well,” she said after a long moment of catching her breath, her voice carefully neutral again. “That was adequate.”

Jameson laughed, the sound genuine and satisfied. “Adequate? I’ll take it.”

“Hand me that rag.” She nodded toward a cloth on the floor.

Jameson retrieved it, gently cleaning her back. The tenderness in the gesture made her want to pull away, but exhaustion kept her still.

“You’re going after Greyson Serel,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question.

She turned to face him, already rebuilding her walls. “Maybe.”

“That’s a suicide run, Shade. Even for you.”

“Everything’s a suicide run in this city.” She sat up, reaching for her clothes.

Jameson caught her wrist. “Promise me something.”

“No.”

He ignored her. “Promise me you’ll be careful. The city needs you alive.”

She looked down at his hand on her wrist, at the scars that matched her own. “The city needs the Executioner dead more.”

She pulled her clothes back on, already erecting the walls she only let down for sex. Shadera could feel his eyes on her, could sense the words he wanted to say hanging in the air between them.

“Don’t,” she warned without looking at him.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make this more than it is.”

He was quiet for a long moment, then she heard him getting dressed behind her. When she finally turned around, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully clothed again, watching her.

Shadera reached for a half-smoked cigarette on the crate by the bed.

“How do you even know about this contract?” she asked, fishing a lighter from the floor. She lit the tip, taking a long drag, and exhaled the smoke into the dark.

“Jaeger told me. Thought I should know, in case . . .” He trailed off, running a hand down his face, then let out a bitter laugh. “You know, I might be falling in love with you and it’s fucking terrible.”