Craving Control (Black Shamrocks MC Book 6)

by Kylie Hillman

  “I don’t need your help,” I snarl, snatching my arm away.

  Maddi’s friend, Nita, steps forward, but I wave her off as well.

  “I’m fine. As if they’d be able to—”

  “Brendan, I must have a word with you.” The snivelling annoyance that calls himself principal at this high school interrupts me.

  I ignore him and concentrate on brushing down the front of my jeans. Flexing my leg, I move it back and forth to test whether it will let me put my full pressure on it. Once I’m satisfied that it will, I greet the principal with a sneer in my expression and obvious disdain in my voice.

  “Hartford Hector Hannigan. It’s been too long.”

  My use of his full name has the desired effect. He shuffles on the spot and refuses to meet my eyes, instead peering at the ground as he continues his objections.

  “I thought we had an understanding. You and your—” He shoots a look of contempt at Hugo. “friend are not allowed on school grounds.”

  Laughing at his petty description of Hugo, I wave a hand around the almost empty carpark. “As you can see, school is over. No harm, no foul. I’m not violating any agreements.”

  The rumble of the motorcycle that was approaching earlier becomes too noisy to talk over. Harford says something in response to my previous statement, but I’m not interested in listening to him any longer. The thrill I get from stomping all over his rather obvious, and very unrequited, crush on me is gone. My attention has been captured by Maddi and her very enthusiastic response to the man who’s gotten off his bike to greet her.

  She takes a quick run-up and jumps into his arms. Wrapping her long legs around his waist, she smiles as he pulls her close to him, cradling her ass with his hands. He swings her in a circle and her giggles float across the parking lot. My breath hitches in my throat, my chest tightening like it’s caught in a vice when Maddi lays a hand on either side of the man’s face and gives him a quick kiss on the lips.

  “What the fuck?” I forget that I’m in the middle of an argument and state my confusion out loud. “Who the hell is he?”

  Hartford doesn’t answer my question, choosing to use my distraction to his advantage. “I’m demanding that you and Mr. Raleigh remove yourself from the school premises. If you refuse to do so, I will be forced to inform the authorities... or your grandfather.”

  “Whatever.” With a flick of my hand, I dismiss him and begin walking in the direction of Maddi and the mystery motorcycle man.

  My knee gives up after two steps, and I stumble. Nita has followed me for some reason, and she grabs my arm as I go down. I’d be thankful if the smile she gives me when I look at her wasn’t filled with neediness. Not willing to go down that path with her again—the first time came with repercussions of the clinging variety that were not balanced out by her skill between the sheets—I attempt to stand on my own, but it’s not happening. The pain isn’t horrendous, it’s more a half throbbing ache, half numb sensation that renders me unable to walk.

  Hugo comes to my other side and takes the full brunt of my weight. With my escort’s assistance, I try to hobble in the direction of Maddi in pursuit of two answers.

  Who is that man and how do I get rid of him?

  Unfortunately, we’re too late. Maddi climbs on the back of the black motorcycle and they speed off together. She has her arms wrapped around his waist and her body pressed tight against his. I want to reach out and pull her from his motorcycle, then take her to my bedroom and punish her for days for sullying herself with his filth. Maddi O’Brien just turned up the heat in this game, and I don’t think she’s going to be able to stand the temperature. By the time, I’m finished with her, she’ll be so dirty and used up that even her leather clad biker won’t want her.

  I gesture to Hugo to help me back to my vehicle. My spine stiffens when I hear Benji and his crew closing in behind us. Their enjoyment at seeing me bowed can be felt long before they’re back in earshot. I stand as tall as I can, gritting my teeth to deal with the discomfort. I end up grinding my teeth further to dull the feeling of impotence that invades me when Benji stops to crow about his victory.

  “If I was you, I’d give up now,” he states, following it with a shrug. “Or, not. Nothing makes me laugh harder than watching you lose.”

  “A war is made up of a single battle,” I respond with more confidence than I should rightfully have. “Enjoy your fleeting victory. It takes more than a busted knee to slow me down.”

  Benji shakes his head. He steps into my space, looks me dead in the eye, and hisses. “Maybe next time I should bust your fucking head?”

  “You can try,” I reply evenly, refusing to drop his gaze first.

  Whatever he sees in my expression—a crazy that will outlast his, maybe?—has him stepping back.

  He tilts his head in Nita’s direction. “You comin’?”

  “I-ah, I...” She trails off and tugs on my arm until I look at her. In her eyes, I see a promise. It has strings attached, conditions that I would consider too much in any circumstance but this.

  She knows who the man on the motorcycle is... and that information is invaluable.

  I’ll take her bait.

  “Nita is coming with me,” I say. Benji lifts his shoulders with lazy acknowledgment.

  “Her loss,” he says as he walks away. “She’ll work out who butters her bread better soon enough.”

  Wandering over to their vehicles, Benji’s group exits the parking lot one after the other. Wheels spinning, tyres screaming, dusting flying, they glory in all the stereotypical peasantry of the riff-raff class they’re descended from.

  When the noise dies down, I turn my attention to Nita. “Tell me who he is.”

  Each word is coated with rigid determination.

  I want answers now.

  “Take me back to your place first,” she counters.

  “No.” I advance on Nita. Hugo must guess that the shit is about to hit the fan if she doesn’t cooperate quickly. He makes himself scarce, just before I verbalise my command for the final time. “Tell me.”

  She shakes her head, biting her lip as she tilts her head in what I imagine she believes is a coquettish manner. I narrow my eyes and lift the left side of my top lip in a silent snarl. She backs up. I follow her. When her heel catches on the edge of the curb behind her, Nita’s eyes widen. I smile when she looks behind her, and then peers over my shoulder. Nervous tension radiates from her skinny frame, and my smile becomes a full-blown grin. The parking lot behind me is completely empty, and I know from previous experience that we’re now in the dead zone of the school’s CCTV surveillance.

  Nita has nowhere to go.

  “I, uh,” Nita stammers. Her eyes are wild, and her tongue loosens with embarrassing speed. “He’s a member of the Black Shamrocks. Like the one who hurts the people they don’t like. Sergeant of something or at something. Kinda like that...”

  I block Nita between me and the concrete pillar at the edge of the parking lot. Dipping my head, I run my nose along the side of her face from her chin to the highest edge of her cheekbone. Fear clings to her skin like a cloak and its aroma is invigorating.

  It makes the mouth of the demon who lives inside me waters with anticipation.

  “Name?”

  The word has barely left my lips before she’s blabbing. “Uh, Mad Dog. No! It’s… Mik… Mik Kennedy?”

  A tiny squeak lifts the end of her stumbling confession, so it sounds more like a question than a statement. Not that it matters, I’m certain that she’s telling me everything she knows.

  Now, it’s time for her punishment. Nobody dares to manipulate me without consequences.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. Letting out a sigh strong enough to make her hair move away from her neck, I nuzzle her earlobe then sink my teeth into the tender flesh. It’s cruel, viciously so, yet I feel no remorse. In fact, hurting Nita takes the edge off the rage that continues to pulsate through me when I think of Maddi climbing on the back of this Mik Kenn
edy’s motorbike.

  Her scream is music to my ears. Dank disappointment fills me when I’m forced to clap my hand over her mouth to silence her. Witnesses are never optimal.

  I learned that lesson early.

  “Get in the car, Nita. Let’s have some fun.”

  A vigorous headshake is her only response. It irks me to my bones—deep down right inside my marrow. While I’ve discovered that I find defiance invigorating when it comes from Maddi, it turns out that nothing has changed when it comes to the general public. No one else is exempt from my wrath.

  My fingers are cruel where they grip her neck. I squeeze tight enough to make sure she understands that I’m in control here. Forcing her to her tip-toes, my next threat is crystal clear in its implications. “You knew my number one rule, and you wanted back in my bed despite it. I think it’s time to show you why that was the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

  SEVEN

  The door to my bedroom slams shut behind us and Nita flattens herself against it. Her hunched posture makes her appear uncertain, however I spy a definite glimmer of cunning in her eyes. It warms the icy cockles of my heart and sets off my competitive streak.

  Bring it, bitch.

  Shucking my shirt from my shoulders, I flop onto my back on my bed. With one arm curled behind my head, I use the other to beckon her forward. Nita shakes her head. I grin, then prop my head up with my other arm. She runs her eyes over my chest and down to the happy trail that leads her to the top button of my jeans. When she looks up, I make sure I meet her eyes. The way she drops my gaze instantly screams of calculation on her behalf.

  “Why so shy?” I ask, completely disingenuously.

  I honestly couldn’t give a shit on any level other than sport.

  Since I was young, I’ve played a game with myself. I’d create the most outrageous situation and then map out the ways it could play out. Once I had a handle on the outcomes, I’d weigh the odds and basically place a bet against myself as to which way the person caught in my net would react.

  With Nita, I see this going one of two ways. Either she runs out of the room screaming that I’ve attacked her, and our butler discreetly packs her into the Lexus and drives her home or she tries to brazen this out.

  My bet is on the latter.

  She’s tasted my dick before. A bleeding earlobe isn’t enough to erase those memories.

  “What do you want me to do, Brendan?”

  Ding. Ding. Ding. We have a winner. Preserving her ego trumps any temporary infamy she could receive from damaging my family name.

  “I want you naked.”

  With a smirk, Nita pulls her blouse over her head. She pushes her skirt to the ground and steps out of it. Clad only in her underwear, she approaches the end of my bed. Getting onto all fours and slowly crawling toward me like a lithe cat gives me the opportunity to reacquaint myself with her body.

  “Now, what?” she asks as I run my gaze over her body.

  “I want you to please me,” I drawl with lazy inflection.

  I’m lying. There is next to zero chance of her satisfying me with her insipid attempts at seduction.

  “With pleasure,” Nita purrs.

  She’s of average height and devoid of excess fat; a waif I can bend, twist, and pull in any position I choose. Previously, she would have had my engine redlining. Tonight, as she straddles my thighs, she does nothing for me.

  In the space of a week, my tastes have morphed into something new.

  While Nita unbuttons my jeans and works them down my hips, my mind is trying to imagine what Maddi would look like in the same position. I’m assailed with images of lithe limbs that lead to juicy curves and promises of unimaginable pleasure. I wish she was here instead of Nita.

  Visions of cocooning my cock in the warmth of her willing body hit me. I want to touch the sinfully smooth skin that wouldn’t be out of place in a Botticelli painting. The need to rip apart everything that stands between me and the little lamb I’m pursuing overwhelms me and the poor substitute on offer does nothing to assuage that desire with her bland offering.

  As I jack-knife upright and seize my current companion by the throat all I can see in my mind’s eye is my intended prey. With a face that’s made up of features that shouldn’t work on their own yet create a visage that would inspire sonnets from Shakespeare himself, Madelaine O’Brien mocks me with her absence.

  Wild, unbridled need pulses through my veins. It fuels me as I stand and drag Nita with me. I throw her against the wall, a wide ginning splitting my face when she squeals and curls up in a ball when she lands on the floor. My stride is long, my hands are strong, when I take hold of her shoulders and push her flat against the plush carpeting. She yields to the force I’m using without a fight.

  I straddle her waist and glare down at her. Naked fear, beautiful revitalizing unrestrainable terror stares back at me. It leaks from every pore. I wish I could capture its essence and bathe in it.

  “Did you really think I was interested in your pussy?”

  Nita’s bottom lip wobbles. Her eyes shine with unshed tears. One droplet escapes a moment before she nods. “Yes. I thought you liked me.”

  Running a single finger over her mouth, I tap her lips three times as I say, “Silly, silly girl. You are nothing but a pawn in my end game. I had my fill of you last year and I can state with absolute certainty that you did not inspire any desire for a repeat.”

  Being the gentleman that I am, I pause so what I say next has time to sink in. There’s nothing fulfilling about flogging an unaware horse, especially one that’s going to prove as useful as Nita.

  “If anything, my time with you proved that your skills lay in less, shall we say, sensual areas. No, you dumb slut, I’m not interested in your nasty snatch. I want to utilise your inside knowledge of the O’Brien family.”

  The way her mouth falls open delights me. A small, but discernible tic takes over her left eyelid followed by a delicious shuddering that wracks her entire frame. It’s the response I wanted—absolute humiliation tinged with the knowledge that she’s stuck between a rock and a hard place.

  It’s almost reassuring.

  You see, my earlier prediction about her behaviour played out as an almost certain outcome to me. This time I’m not quite as sure of her decision. I’m leaning toward her fear of me outweighing her loyalty to the O’Brien’s. But, it’s not a done deal by any stretch of the imagination. Nita and Maddi have been friends since the O’Brien’s moved to town and she’s shown a rather obvious dedication to riding Benji’s pogo stick whenever he snaps his fingers in her direction.

  The silence from her lack of response feels heavy, creating a corresponding knotted weight in my gut. The prolonging of the unknown adds an undercurrent of danger to the situation and spurs me into action. I need to seal this deal or eliminate the threat before it can open its mouth.

  “If you act as my eyes and ears for everything to do with Maddi and her family, I’ll owe you a favour.”

  Leaning down, I place my mouth against her tightly-pressed lips. I lick the seam, prodding with my tongue until she yields to me, and allows my entry. Her acquiescence is gained with ridiculous ease. It immediately loosens the tangled coil of uncertainty that surrounds me.

  “Anything. You name it and it’s yours,” I whisper against her mouth. “Name your price, Nita.”

  I take her hand and move it between our bodies. Forcing her fingers to cup me, I moan in her ear while I move in her grasp. “You have me by the balls. Literally. Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”

  Nita is buying what I’m selling. She squeezes me twice then lets me go, flips a leg over my hip, and grinds herself against my bulge. The sound she makes is awkward, but I go with it. My eyes roll back in my head. On purpose. It’s either that or I risk Nita seeing that I’m bored as batshit. Her moves are as bland as she is—all Mary Jane missionary when I get off on Kingpin kink.

  “I want Benji,” Nita answers with breathless assurance.r />
  It’s not the answer I was expecting.

  I roll onto my side, propping my head with my arm and looking down at her. Arching an eyebrow, my puzzled amusement is clear to see.

  “Don’t look so surprised,” she says. “Hanging with you is fun and all. I liked being your dirty little secret. It’s just being with Benji means something in this town. He’s the footy star, and he’s going places. I’d really like to go with him.”

  “I underestimated you,” I muse out loud, pushing myself upright. A wide smile on her face, Nita follows me as I sit up.

  “Deal?”

  The warm, firm handshake she gives me is her sole response. Once that’s completed, she gets to her feet and starts dressing herself. Moving to the decanter on my dresser, I pour myself a measure of scotch, pausing for a second to regard it before I make it a double. By the time I’ve thrown it back, she’s dressed and heading for my door.

  “Maddi thinks I’m her friend,” I state. “Your first job is to make her see that I’m so much more than that. I want her panties notched in my bedhead, post haste.”

  Nita doesn’t bother to turn back to face me, she simply shrugs.

  “Consider it done,” she replies. “Once I have your assurance that Benji will be properly medicated at your next bonfire party. He responds better to me when he’s off his head.”

  Refilling my glass, I toy with the edge to make it look like I’m thinking about her counterbid. In reality, providing Benji with whatever substance he wants to snort is in my best interests. But my father taught me long ago that business is better conducted from a place of opposition rather than easy compliance. Making your ally think your cooperation is tenuous keeps them from finding stable ground from which to negotiate.

  When I feel she’s waited long enough, I amend my initial proposal. “I will ensure his amendable state as long as you long as you fulfil my prior and —”

  “Good, then we’re in agreement—” she cuts me off.

  “No, we’re not,” I interrupt her in return. “There’s more. I want Maddi’s virtue as well as every single piece of information you can find on the Black Shamrocks MC. Once you’ve performed both tasks to my specifications, I’ll have Benji O’Brien delivered to you, signed, sealed, and high as a kite caught in a hurricane. He’ll be banging you every which way, but under—and only because he won’t be capable of walking.”