“I’d prefer you pay for your beer,” I told him with a smile that was probably a little too small to be polite.
His eyes narrowed. “I can wait,” he replied.
“For what?” I questioned, genuinely surprised by that answer. Hell, I was surprised by his interest.
Next door, there were over two dozen strippers swinging around poles, and in here, there were some cuties that I’d bang if I were gay. Why was he interested in me when I was...
I winced before the thought process could swell into being.
Fat.
Yup.
God, I hated being cliché.
I knew I was pretty, knew I had what it took to score, and I was genuinely happy with myself, but because Nyx had let me down, and because I’d been stupid enough to be let down in the first place, I was totally reverting to type.
Remembering the insults Lance had tried to scorch me with, recalling what the cheerleaders at school had said because I was popular with the Jocks, and they couldn’t deal with the fact that a woman who actually ate could be wanted by the football team.
Juvenile?
Yeah, but any woman would be when they were constantly surrounded by naked women who were perfect.
To my left, there were strippers, and back at the compound, there were clubwhores who’d sink to their knees for any of the brothers. I’d seen more asscheeks and tits than I would at the beach, and all the while, it was easy to wonder why a guy like Nyx would want to fuck regular old me, when he could be screwing a pin up model.
“You can keep on waiting,” I retorted, my tone colder, thanks to just thinking what I was thinking. “I have a boyfriend.”
It was a lie, but fuck, what was I supposed to say? Guys did worse shit when they were humiliated, and at least this way, I saved his pride.
I was grateful for my sound reasoning when one of his dick friends slapped him on the back, whispered some shit in his ear that I couldn’t hear over “Sweet Carolina”—Lord, I hated that song—and together, they slouched off to their booth. He kept on glancing at me though. Smiling like he thought I was playing hard to get. ‘No’ really didn’t mean ‘no’ to some guys. It wasn’t like that was news to me, but every time I came face to face with that fact, it always made me crabby.
Over the course of the night, I kept my eye on them because they were rowdy as hell. One of the dicks was getting married next week from the way they were cheering him on as he chugged back tequila like it was water, and I got the feeling that they were building up to going next door.
As the guys I’d hired, cool boys who were working this side hustle to save up for community college—and I knew how hard that was—worked the bar, I did my own thing. Ever since opening, we’d been busy, and since I was learning the ropes as much as they were, something that had given me trouble when they’d tried to take over at first, it wasn’t easy keeping up with everything. Especially as I was using these nights as a means of, A, avoiding Nyx, and B, trying to calculate what we’d need for the official opening party which didn’t have a date as of yet.
I wasn’t sure what kind of weird ass logic had them throwing the launch party a couple of weeks after opening, but who was I to complain? I was gonna get paid double that night, at least, according to Nyx, who’d managed to corner me in the kitchen this morning as I was making breakfast.
Yeah, sucked to be me.
Late nights and early mornings.
Shit, I couldn’t get my ass to New York fast enough.
Wiping down a couple of the tables was probably the quietest part of the job, and even though I’d tried to avoid the groomsmen’s table, I failed when Chad, apologetically, had to ask me for help.
“There’s too much shit for just me,” he admitted with a grimace after the table placed another order.
“Go twice,” I stated firmly. I mean, I wasn’t the boss, but he wasn’t to know that, was he? I’d hired him, after all. And Nyx wasn’t one for sticking his nose in, which I was almost grateful for if I wasn’t pissed at him.
“I’ll help.”
I cocked a brow at the sound of his voice. “No, you go and sit down,” I told him sarcastically. “I’m sure you have lots and lots of business to deal with.”
He narrowed his eyes on me. “Your mouth is going to get you into trouble one day, baby girl.”
Those last two words were whispered in my ear as he swept toward the booth that was laden with empty glasses, dead beer bottles, and all kinds of crap that I was grateful I didn’t have to pick up.
“Think it might be time you guys called it a night,” he suggested, as he stacked bottlenecks between his fingers.
Now, that voice was the antithesis of friendly, but blond prick eyed up Nyx’s cut, then spat, literally spat. “I don’t think we’re ready, are we, guys?”
The globule of saliva landed on the table. Just beside Nyx’s hand where he’d been reaching for the next bottle.
His stillness would probably stick with me forever, because I could feel the sudden charge of fire slip into the atmosphere.
I’d never felt anything like it.
Ever.
In my life.
And violence wasn’t something I was unaccustomed to.
Apparently, even in their drunken haze, the group of men appeared not to be totally fucking stupid, and they fell silent, their dopey giggles from too much tequila died, and one of them, a man I’d forever be grateful to, muttered, “I think he’s right. We need to get back. I know Josie is waiting for me.”
Blond prick mumbled, “Could you be any more pussy whipped?” But with his shift of attention, Nyx relaxed a fraction. And when I said a fraction, I meant a fucking fraction. The tension lessened by one-sixty-fourth, no word of a lie, and he carried on with his shit, staying quiet as he grabbed more bottles and retreated from the table, leaving the guys to gather their crap together which, thankfully, they did with only a few irritated mutters.
When Nyx approached the counter, I watched him warily, hating that I was turned the fuck on. With each step he moved toward me, I could feel the strength in him, the violence. It was leashed, but barely, and fuck me, I wanted that violence raining down on my body.
Not with a hail of fists, or a flurry of kicks.
But with his body thrusting into mine.
Overpowering me, making me take everything he had to give.
The aggression in him should have repelled me, should have made me want to avoid him, but it didn’t.
If anything, it made me want him more, and considering I thought he was a douche for what he’d done to me that first day, I felt even more stupid than I already did.
There was heat in his eyes, heat that I knew was aimed at me, so I turned, went to stack up the fridge with more Coke, and let him move away, head on out to the plastic crates at the back of the bar where we stored the empties.
I felt like a coward, and that was probably one of the worst insults I could aim at myself, but fuck, I’d be stupid to get involved with him again.
Once?
Sure, it was worth it.
Twice?
That was like that whole ‘fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,’ thing. This was more than shame. This was outright idiocy we were talking about here.
So, I avoided him, and unfortunately for me, I didn’t count on the blond prick’s stupidity as he swerved toward me at the end of the bar, which was closest to the door, and muttered, “Should have known you were a biker’s slut.” He sneered at me before I could say a word, then, just as he was about to leave, Nyx was there.
It was like something from a movie. A fucking action flick at that.
He put one hand on the bar, and with a strength that looked casual, but just couldn’t be, he leaped over the counter and landed on the other side, as though he’d literally just walked through it.
Hell, that would have been easier to me.
I’d never been one of those people who could do cartwheels and handstands. That was prob
ably another reason to dislike Nyx. For how goddamn fit he was.
Still, that was the least of it. When he grabbed the blond prick’s hair, the hair that he’d primped and preened and coated with so much product that even after a night of drinks, it was still in pristine condition, he grabbed it and smashed his face into the door.
I didn’t hear what he hissed in the guy’s ear, didn’t need to know. All around us, the bar went silent, and the guys who were friends with the dick simply froze, evidently not willing to fuck with Nyx, and damn, I hated myself for how badly that made me cream.
This man, this fucked-up shit, held the entire room hostage with his power.
Everyone knew to avoid him.
To evade his look, his touch.
Everyone except me.
He wouldn’t hurt me.
Ever.
And dear Lord, how I wanted him for that, which was all kinds of messed up.
Jesus, I was just like my mom, except Nyx was a thousand times better than Dog. Not just with inherent power, but with looks too. Nyx was an eight. My dad? Even in his heyday, had barely scrubbed a six.
I clenched my teeth, trying not to be turned on at Nyx’s defense of me, then I had no choice but to gasp—no choice, because it escaped my mouth before I could contain it—when Nyx pulled back and the blond prick fell to the floor.
I wasn’t sure what had happened, why he’d crumpled that way, but when Nyx backed off, he cut the other guys a glower and ordered, “Get him the fuck out of here, and don’t bring him back.”
When they scurried to follow his bidding, I knew I was beyond wet. These guys were rich. And in this area, money came with power. I knew the sort, had known it from being a young kid. There were folk like me, then there were the country clubbers the Sinners so disdained, but they were in the majority around here.
West Orange was wealthy, and we were the blight on the area.
A blight that was gaining more power and wealth, thanks to whatever dealings the Sinners were mixed up in.
And for all that these men were those wealthy pricks who thought they owned the air they breathed, they still did as Nyx bade them.
In a few minutes, not a one of them remained, and the guy on the floor, who’d been bleeding out of his nose and looking more punch-drunk than ever—get it? Cue snort—had been chivvied out and into the parking lot across the way.
I didn’t bother watching them go, instead, I watched Nyx.
I could feel my skin prickle with heat as he graced me with his focus, a ferocity in him that made me want to whimper.
He looked at me, and I at him, and as he walked toward the end of the bar, I had no choice but to follow.
I was no sheep, but damn if I was about to avoid Nyx when he was like this.
My skin prickled, and my belly churned, but it wasn’t with uncertainty, it was with need.
I wanted to harness his violence, wanted to have him burn it off inside me, and I knew he wanted the same.
“Clear the blood up,” he commanded Chad, who instantly obeyed, something else that set me off, and without a second glance, he opened the door to the back room and held it wide for me to pass through.
I left behind a three-quarters’ full bar that was loaded with clients who were stone-cold stunned at the violence they’d just witnessed, and I didn’t care. Didn’t give a shit. I just walked into the office, didn’t stop until I was at the desk, and I placed my hands on the edge.
The door closed behind him, and I heard the thud of his boots as he took the same path I had.
I could feel the sweat beading on my upper lip, could feel it prickling down my back, and the heat? Jesus, I felt like I had central heating for a heart, because it was pumping an inferno around my veins.
When his hands came to my waist, I about died. My lungs almost ceased when he squeezed his left hand about my stomach, then, with his right, placed it in the center of my back, right between my shoulders.
Without a word, I leaned over, and when I had my elbows on the desk, he stuck his leg between mine and jarred mine apart.
A shaky breath escaped me, and excitement filled me, making me wait in agony as I wondered over his next move.
My tits shook, jiggling against the desk and the papers on there that I’d been dealing with earlier—papers I’d been bitterly handling as I figured this was Nyx’s problem and not mine. But all that was forgotten as, finally, he reached for my skirt and began to tug it up until it was banded about my waist. The feel of his hands against my skin, his fingers, with those fucking calluses, dragging against sensitive tissues, had me flinching with just how on edge that simple touch made me feel.
I was on fire before he even managed to get his hands on my panties, and when he dragged them down, then used the toe of his boots to lower them to my calves, I released a low moan.
“You wet for me, baby girl?” he rasped.
A shaky whimper escaped me. Yeah, I whimpered. Sue me. “Y-Yes,” I whispered back.
“Good.” His fingers slipped through the folds of my sex, not stopping until I could hear how wet I was, never mind feel it. I closed my eyes, clenching them shut as I processed just how good it felt for him to be touching me this way.
I wanted to die, wanted to live, but whatever, I just wanted to feel this.
Feel him.
I shuddered as he nudged my clit, softly at first, before he began to outright rub it. Prickles of pleasure blossomed, morphing until I felt like I was being punched with just how wonderful it felt for him to touch me there. With his spare hand, he slipped a finger inside me, and when he thrust it, back and forth, up and down, I rocked my hips, which he took as the sign it was.
Another finger appeared, and he did the same. I bowed my head, loving the pressure, needing more.
Another finger, then finally a fourth. I closed my eyes, just thinking about that massive dick of his and how four of his fingers in no way compared to his girth.
Shifting my legs, I parted them, widening them, then lowered my belly to the table, arching my ass up in the most liberating invitation I’d ever bestowed upon a man.
He didn’t chuckle, didn’t grunt, didn’t even crow. He was quiet in his triumph, and I knew that was what had to be pouring through him.
I hadn’t talked to him, not once, in just under ninety-three hours, yet here I was, welcoming him into my body.
The rasp of his zipper lowering had me shuddering, and when he rubbed his dick against me, finally, I felt all that metal, all that ‘hardware’ as he called it, and surged up onto tiptoe.
It was bizarrely warm and cold at the same time. Warm from his body contact, yet with the faint tang of metal that made my clit feel like it was... hell, I didn’t even know. If I said it felt like it was on fire, that was way too close to a UTI symptom, but Jesus Christ, this was beyond good. The rub of it against me, one of those damn barbells touching my tender flesh, had tears weeping from my eyes.
Reaching up, I clung to the edge of the desk, needing to hold on for dear life as I accepted whatever he gave me.
The crinkle of the condom opening stunned me, because I hadn’t realized he’d stopped touching me. Damn, where was my head? Knowing slick latex parted us, I almost mourned the intimacy of skin to skin contact, but shoved it aside to deal with the fact that I knew what was coming.
A groan escaped me as the tip found my gate. I tensed for a second, then jerked when he slapped me on the ass.
“You want me inside you?”
The harsh tone made it a wonder I wasn’t gushing around his dick.
I didn’t want him to be mean, but fuck, something about him, something with him in this mood, just about did me in.
“Y-Yes. I want you inside me,” I answered truthfully.
“Then relax.” He reached between my legs after he slid his hand under my belly, and when he patted my clit, I jerked again, then rocked my hips as he worked the tip inside me.
I could no more stop myself from biting down around the fleshy part of m
y upper arm, than I could stop myself from taking my next breath. The pain felt good, just as good as him slowly working himself inside me.
I could feel every ridge, every bump, and though it was alien, it felt right. Like my body had been made to take him like this.
I shuddered as he worked his way into me, trusting that he wouldn’t take things too far. He’d kept me safe before, had made sure he hadn’t gone too deep for me to hurt the next day, not outside of the norm, at any rate, and I relaxed around him, wanting to take as much as I could, needing him to need me as much as I did him.
He grabbed my hips and dragged me back, not stopping until my tits were on the table, my belly bare. His fingers gripped me there, and he grumbled, “Bear down.”
The grumble should have been discordant, but it wasn’t. I tried to give him what he wanted, but pulling the same move as when my OB-GYN shoved the speculum inside me for a checkup wasn’t my number one way to get off.
I could feel sweat beading on my brow, felt the drum of my heart as I worked to give him what he needed, and when he thrust in another inch, then another, I whimpered, feeling slightly flustered at just how full I was.
Then, he stunned me.
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head as he bowed over me, giving me his weight, before he began to rub my clit.
The orgasm hit me hot, hard, and fast. I hadn’t expected it, hadn’t thought he’d let me come so soon—and yeah, the word ‘let’ was no joke. Nyx was in total control of my body, and I’d be a fool if I didn’t recognize that.
I screamed, uncaring if anyone could hear me as my pussy clenched down around his thick length, and the pressure inside me, both from him and the pleasure of what he made me feel, made me wonder how I didn’t burst open, implode then explode into a million lights as my energy transferred to the next dimension.
He took me somewhere, to another level, to someplace where I felt like I was going crazy with the ecstasy ricocheting through me. And then he moved. And I had no choice but to scream again.
He was cautious, I’d give him that, but his movement set off a welter of panic inside me.
“Too much, too much, too much,” I half screamed, yelling the litany as I tried to deal with what was working its way through my system.
Forgotten & Found: A Dark & Dirty Sinners' MC Boxset Page 19