Free Stabled (The Stables Trilogy #1) by Penny Lam Page B

you’ve got work to do--”
     
    “But boss--”
     
    “Raúl, we’ve got history, but if you don’t get out right the fuck now, you’re going to find yourself out of a job.”
     
    The door slammed but didn’t stick as Raúl left, bouncing helplessly back open. J.B. growled and jumped off the bed to move a chair in front of it, keeping it shut.
     
    Her clothes were feeling tight, her skin itching. The fabric began to hurt her. It reminded Maple of the blood pressure cuffs at the doctor, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing, but there was no puff of air and release after. She was swelling, her body blowing up like a balloon. “J.B.--” she choked out, “It hurts!”
     
    He rushed back to her, his fingers pressing to her neck. His other hand rested on her belly and Maple wanted to focus on it, but her body was aching so much. “My clothes!” She gasped.
     
    J.B. must have seen it then, the buttons of her shirt strained to popping, the denim of her jeans cutting into hips and ankles. “Damn,” he hissed. He whipped a large pocket knife from his back pocket, flipping it open. It’s blade glinted, serrated and nasty looking. “Don’t fucking move.”
     
    The knife slid, hacking and sawing, through the arms of her shirt, the front, the flaps of fabric falling and relief screaming in her head. When the knife started cutting off her bra, Maple shut her eyes, humiliated even in her discomfort.
     
    Next came her jeans, her swollen thighs practically popping from the fabric he sliced away. It took work, but J.B. yanked her boots off.
     
    Maple lay on his bed, naked but for her panties, shivering. The cool air on her limbs and the freedom from the constricting clothing was such a relief she moaned and arched her back a little, just to feel control of her body again.
     
    J.B. was on the bed, between her legs. His black hair was in his face, which was paler than usual. His eyes weren’t on hers. They were on her body. Maple’s heart faltered and it wasn’t the venom. It was the look of undiluted lust on his face. His lip curled in hunger.
     
    Her skin prickled under his gaze and, before she could help herself, she let her knees fall a little more open. His eyes, furious with desire, darted to hers. The prickling sensation grew. Her tongue licked a lip. When it slid back in her mouth, it felt too large, making it difficult to breathe again. The prickling intensified into a bitter itching.
     
    “Oh God,” she moaned.
     
    “What?” His already gravel voice was lower, raspier.
     
    “My skin itches!” Her arms moved sluggishly, fingers beginning to scratch; she didn’t have enough fingers to reach her whole body at once. The itching turned torturous.
     
    He grabbed her hands and pinned them to the mattress. This brought his body close to hers, his chest hovering over her bared breasts, the cold brush of his buttons sending sparks through her. The bite of his hands on her wrists were twin points of pain that cut through the itch. Fuck .
     
    She reacted without thinking, bringing her knees up to gently press her hips to his. Her body was and was not her own; the body on the bed was being ravaged by the venom and antivenom at work. But the wall, the one she so desperately needed in her mind to keep her desires in check? Demolished. Gone without a trace. Need flooded into her and being pinned to the bed was driving her to action.
     
    J.B. looked at her in horror even as she felt his erection grow, pressed tight against her. “No,” he groaned, yet his hips rocked into her. “No!” Jumping away, he scrambled off the bed.
     
    Maple wanted to say something. To plead for forgiveness. To beg for more. But now her tongue was so swollen in her mouth it was hard to breathe again and without his hard body on top of hers, her skin flared to life again, the itching pure torture.
     
    He grabbed another vial from the kit and filled another syringe, pushing it into the tube connected to her arm.
     
    A fugue, heady and