His eyes search my own, but he doesn’t say anything right away, he doesn’t respond to my words immediately. Instead, he watches me for far too long. There is a moment that passes between us, it’s quiet, it’s full of unasked questions and unspoken promises.
“Not pushing you anywhere. You can’t leave me,” he says, his voice a hardened growl.
“Make me stay.”
My words are meant to be a challenge. A way to force him to think about me, about us, about the long run. I want him to want me as much as I do him.
I need him to prove that this is something more than him just helping someone out. I need him to know that I’m walking away and I tried, that I won’t have any regrets about leaving him, about leaving here.
He growls. It sounds completely animalistic. Something inside of him snaps and I gasp at the sight of his eyes. They’re feral. Everything about him has shifted and he’s completely wild as he looks down at me.
Without a word, he strips me of my clothes. He takes a step back, unbuttoning my shorts and roughly sliding them down my legs. He tosses them somewhere in the room. My shirt is next. I reach for the hem, but before I can take it off, he has it gripped in his fingers and rips the fabric from my body.
I’m not wearing a bra, as nice as the girls were, that’s one thing I don’t have… bras. I have panties and clothes, but no bras. So mine is in the wash, and judging by the way Dylan stares at my bare breasts, he wasn’t anticipating me bare-breasted.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
Slowly he lifts his eyes to meet mine and I suddenly feel nervous beneath his gaze. Before I can ask him if everything is okay, he lets out a grunt, then takes a step closer to me, his hips fitting between my thighs.
“Fucking beautiful, Sunny,” he rasps, his voice is low and husky, so sexy that a chill breaks out over my entire body.
I reach up and cup his cheeks, my thumb sliding along his bottom lip. He nips the pad of my thumb as I feel his hands between us, he’s shifting and moving around, but I can’t look away from his darkened gaze as he stares into my soul.
His fingers hook in the sides of my panties and I let out a gasp as he rips them to shreds. My lips part in awe as his fingers slide through my folds. His expression is set hard, his jaw clenched as he works his fingers between my legs.
I can’t look away. I watch as his nostrils flare, his fingers working magically and touching everywhere I need them to. He’s an expert and it doesn’t take long before I’m so close again, it feels even bigger than it did the first time.
“Makin’ you stay, Sunny,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
My head falls back between my shoulders, my back arches and my orgasm takes me by surprise. It consumes me. I can’t hold back the cry as my hips jerk and buck. I feel his lips wrap around one of my nipples and he sucks me in deep, his teeth biting down around me.
Sliding my hands around his shoulders, I bury one of my hands in his hair and grip the strands as I hold him against my breast, loving the bite of pain that he’s delivering, my hips unable to stop as I continue to ride out my climax.
Tugging on his hair, he lifts his head, I can feel him pressing against me. “Please, Dylan. Keep me,” I breathe.
He doesn’t say anything, his eyes search mine and without a word of warning, he slams deep inside of me. I cry out, louder than I intend, my fingers gripping his hair and shoulder so tightly that I no doubt leave marks and pull some strands out.
It hurts.
I feel like he’s going to rip my entire body in two, but he doesn’t move once he’s inside. He stares at me in silence, his gaze focused on mine and nowhere else. One of his hands grips my hip, the other lifts and his hand cups my cheek.
“Never wanted anything the way I want this, Sunny. Keeping you. Claiming you right here and right now. You are mine. Your body is mine. Your heart is mine. And your babies will be mine.”
My eyes widen from his words and I realize that he’s inside of me, with no protection. Which means he wants those babies to be his now. Nodding my head, I turn my head and touch my lips to his palm.
“I’m yours, Dylan.”
His lips curve up into a grin. “Yeah, I kind of knew that, baby.”
JAGUAR
I shouldn’t have fucked her. Was it fucking? It doesn’t feel like just a fuck, it felt like a hell of a lot more. I meant it when I said I’d never wanted anything the way I want her, the way I wanted to be inside of her.
Gathering her close, my hips won’t stop, I can’t stop. Burying my face in her neck, I come deep inside of her, planting myself and allowing my cum to spill inside of her sweet body. This is so fucking wrong, but nothing about it feels that way.
She releases the tight grip that she had on my hair and I lift my head to look into her eyes. I’m not sure that I want to see her look back at me. I’m sure that I hurt her, sure that she wasn’t ready for what I gave her, but I also knew that I couldn’t stop myself.
“Dylan,” she breathes, tears streaked down her cheeks.
Then she does something that I don’t expect. Her lips curve up into a small smile. “That was amazing,” she whispers.
Fuck. Me.
“Yeah,” I grunt in agreement.
It was amazing, though she’s not experienced at all, it was the best I’ve ever had. Searching her eyes, I wonder what this means now. I know that I want her in my bed, as my Old Lady, but I also know that I can’t make her that until I get in good standing again with the club.
That could take years.
Dragon wants me to claim her, but doesn’t he realize that I’m just a prospect? Doesn’t he know that it’s just not as easy as it is for him or anyone else. I fucked this up, I should have let her go. My selfishness strikes again and I took something that wasn’t mine to take. Just like Della, just like Charm, just like trying to kill Eagle.
All not my fucking decisions to make.
Instead of pushing her away, walking away, and not looking back. I gently pull out of her, even though it’s exactly where I wish I could stay for a lifetime.
Looking around, I decide I’m an even bigger piece of shit than I thought. I fucked her in a warehouse, her first time, on a table that I packaged dope on not too long ago. She doesn’t deserve me, and I took her anyway.
“Dylan?” she asks as I take a step back and tug my jeans up, buttoning them.
I didn’t even take my fucking pants off to take her virginity. What a fucking dick. Lifting my head, I look at her. She’s got my cum leaking from between her legs and her tits are out, one with a bite mark all the way around, my mark on her beautiful body.
She’s got my dirt on her.
Taking my prospect cut off, I peel my shirt off and hand it to her. She takes it, her fingers curling around the fabric before she covers herself with it immediately. She’s watching me, I can feel her eyes focused on me, but I can’t look at her in the eye.
“Dylan,” she snaps.
My body jerks and I look at her, surprised at her sharp tone. “Yeah?” I ask.
She watches me for a long moment, then lets out a sigh. “You already regret me,” she whispers before she covers herself with my tee. I watch as she hops down from the table, finding her shorts and pulling them up her long legs.
Closing the distance between us, I cup her cheeks with my palms and look into her eyes. My focus is true and on her and nowhere else.
“I don’t,” I grit. “But you will regret me. I can say you’re mine all day, but I can’t officially claim you and I fucked up.”
“You can’t officially claim me?” she asks, sounding confused, and she should be.
She knows a lot about club life, but the Punchers don’t play by our rules. They’re fucked up in every way a club can be. She doesn’t understand anything about the Beasts, not really.
“I’m a prospect right now. I may never earn my place back in the brotherhood, and you’ll never be an Old Lady if I don’t.”
“That stops us from bei
ng a couple, from having a family and being happy?” she asks.
Her question seems like it would have an easy answer. It doesn’t. “It stops you from being protected by the Savage Beasts,” I announce.
She watches me, tilting her head to the side. “And?”
“What do you mean, and?”
“I mean... and? You think I care about the protection of the Beasts? Can you not protect me, Dylan?”
“I can,” I growl.
“Then I don’t need them when I have you.”
“You don’t understand.”
Pamela licks her lips, her thumb sliding across my bottom lip as she watches me for a long moment. “Yes, I understand. I just don’t care about their protection as much as I do having you.”
Shaking my head, I try to take a step back, but she doesn’t let me. She rises to her toes and touches her mouth to mine. “You’re all I want, Dylan. You’re all that matters.”
Chapter Nineteen
JAGUAR
Carrying Pamela to my room, I ignore the way the men watch me from the corner of their eyes in the bar. Nobody says anything as I walk through the main room, but I can feel them watching us. Most looks are curiosity, some are hate-filled and I wonder when or if I will ever be forgiven. Probably never, I wouldn’t forgive me if I were any of them.
Slipping into the bedroom, I throw the lock in place, thankful that they turned it around for me. I guess I’m trustworthy enough to be able to lock my own door these days. Though, I don’t have a phone and no matter where I am, someone is always watching me. All things I’m oddly okay with.
“What are we doing?” she asks.
Setting her down on the bed, I take a step backward and look at her. I don’t say anything right away, not ready to really answer her yet. Instead, I take her in. Pamela’s hair is a fucking mess, her makeup is a bit smeared, she looks rumpled and perfect. She looks like she’s been thoroughly fucked.
“We’re going to get to know one another,” I announce.
She blinks, squirming in place, her eyes round as she watches me. “We are?” she finally asks.
I’ve shocked her, I think I’ve shocked myself a little, too. She doesn’t move again, doesn’t even squirm. She is focused on me and watching, waiting for whatever it is I’m about to surprise her with next.
Walking over to the chair in the room, I pull it into the center of the room, directly across from her and I sink down, crossing one ankle over my knee. Lifting my arms, I link my fingers together and put them behind my head.
Leaning back, I clear my throat and watch her for a moment. I’m not exactly sure what I want to know about her, but I know one thing. I am going to get to know her. I’ve never done this with a woman before, gotten to know her. Not even with Della. I wanted her, I thought that I loved her in my own way and maybe I did, but I didn’t even know her and she didn’t know me.
“I need to get to know you. I want to get to know you.”
She watches me, tilting her head to one side, then the other. What I don’t tell her is that I have no fucking idea what I’m doing and this is the first time I’ve ever tried to actually get to know a woman I was fucking.
“What do you want to know?”
I shrug a shoulder, unsure of what it is that I need to know. I want to know it all. I don’t want any more surprises. I want her to feel connected to me in a way where I know she won’t leave. I want her attached, inside and out. I don’t really care what that says about me, I don’t give a fuck anymore. All I know is that I want to keep her.
Then I remember that sure, Riot is her father, but who is her mother? She came from somewhere, from someone.
“Your mom, where is she?”
Pamela’s face turns white, then she closes her eyes and inhales a deep breath before releasing it. When she opens her eyes, they connect with mine. She looks sick, devastated, heartbroken, and maybe a little angry all mixed up into one.
“Riot killed her.”
Her words come out through her teeth on a hiss. I watch her, wondering if she’s full of shit, but she doesn’t smile, she doesn’t even blink. This haunts her. I have to ask, even though I really don’t want to, even if I already know the answer.
“Did you see it?”
She dips her chin, looking down in her lap, then lifts her eyes to meet mine again. “I was watching Baywatch in the next room when it happened.”
“Baywatch?”
Her cheeks tint pink and her lips curve up into a grin. “Pamela Anderson,” she whispers. “My dad loved her. A lot, still does as far as I know. He always dated busty blondes. He totally loves her.”
My own lips turn up and I can’t help but chuckle. “You’re not a Pamela, Sunny.”
“I’m not?”
Shaking my head, I want to get up and wrap her in my arms, but I don’t. Instead, I continue to watch her. If I get close, I’m going to fuck her and that’s not what this is about right now, not yet at least.
Pamela is shy and sweet. Her cheeks are pink, and she’s twisting her fingers in her lap. She’s not a Pamela, she’s a Sunny, sometimes a Pammy, nobody else. One look at her and I knew that the name didn’t fit, now that I know more, I’m sure of it. She isn’t a Pamela.
“What about your family?” she asks, breaking me out of my thoughts.
I hum, leaning back in my chair, still thinking about her being named after Pamela Anderson and how much of a dumbfuck Riot is. I think about deflecting, about not answering or ending the conversation completely.
Normally, any questions involving my parents would put me in a piss-poor mood, except I can’t think of anything but Sunny and for whatever reason, I want to open up to her. I thought maybe I would just get to know her, learn all of her inner workings, but I think I want her to know me too.
“Dad was a dick, abused me, my sister, and mind-fucked my mom, I left when I was eighteen.”
She doesn’t say anything right away, but her eyes search my face for a long moment. Then she nods her head a couple of times.
“So, we’re both from fucked-up pasts.”
“Mine more than yours,” I quip.
She nods. “Yeah, but we’ve had our share of shit,” she announces.
“Yeah, we have.”
“What happened to your sister?” she asks.
Shrugging a shoulder, I think about not even telling her, but then again it would just be more shit between us. Clearing my throat, I look at the ceiling, then down at her again.
“She ran away the day she turned eighteen. Found her a few years ago, she was hooked on dope, not looking to get out of that life. Whorin’ herself for a high. She was lost, didn’t even recognize me. Didn’t even know who she was, either.”
Pammy is quiet for a moment, then she lets out a sigh and tells me that she’s sorry. No reason to be sorry, I know my sister was going to be fucked if she stayed in that house. I left knowing that there was no way I could protect her. I let it happen.
“What else do you want to know?” she asks softly, her tone changing from just a few moments ago.
I think about that question and honestly, I’m not sure. What the fuck do I want to know about her? Everything. What do I want to share about myself? Nothing.
I know it’s not right, we should be open and share, that’s what you do in relationships, right? I honestly don’t know anything about this, but I want it to be solid. I’ve decided that I’m choosing her and as fucked up as the world, not just the world around us, but my own world is, I want this to work.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to ask,” I admit. “I’ve never done this before.”
She lets out a laugh, then she stands and slowly makes her way over to me. She looks fucking great in my tee. It falls past her ass, covering her shorts and leaving those legs looking like they go on for miles.
I hold my breath for a moment as she sinks down and sits her ass against my thigh. She throws her legs over my other thigh, then wraps her arms around my neck. Her wide eyes lo
ok at me innocently.
“What’s your favorite color?” she asks, her voice breathy and soft.
I grunt. “Black.”
She hums, leaning forward, and touches her lips to my mouth. “Of course it is. What’s your favorite food?” she murmurs against my lips.
“Pussy,” I mutter.
“You’ve never eaten mine.” She laughs. “How can you know it’s all your favorite?”
I don’t hear even a hint of jealousy in her voice. Just good-hearted humor. I meant the comment to be a joke. Honestly, I don’t have a favorite food and it’s been a while since I’ve eaten any pussy, but I can only imagine I’d like hers plenty, considering just the way it felt was the best I’ve ever had.
Nipping her bottom lip, I wrap my arms around her and stand, carrying her back over to the bed. “Guess I better rectify that,” I say against her lips.
Sinking to my knees, I reach for her shorts and start to take them off. I shimmy them down her legs, throwing them to the side before I slide my fingers up the insides of her thighs and spread them wide.
Reaching forward, I sink my fingers inside of her. I can feel my sticky cum, hopefully creating life and binding her to me more than any ring or brand ever could.
Leaning forward, I touch my mouth to her clit.
Pammy lets out a moan as she lifts her hips to meet my tongue. I flick her clit over and over with my tongue, swirling and tasting, while my fingers play her, sliding through her folds, but never slipping inside.
I’m bringing her closer and closer to the edge, wanting nothing more than for her to topple over. I want her to need it, to burn from the inside out to come. I want to hear her scream for me.
Sliding two fingers inside of her, I curl them, then pull out and slide them back inside. She lets out a whimper, my mouth and fingers working her and bringing her closer to the edge, closer to falling over. I need her to come—hard.
“Dylan,” she cries out.
I don’t stop, I only continue. Knowing that she’s right there, she’s so close. She’s fighting it, but I won’t let her fight, I will force her to come. I will force her pleasure, always.
UnCage me (Savage Beast MC Book 8) Page 15