by K. L. Savage
He’s so different from me on the outside, but we are the same on the inside, and that’s all that matters.
“You’re used to a certain kind of woman, Knives,” I tell him.
“No, I’m not. I’m not used to any kind of woman, because I never got to know a woman like I’ve gotten to know you over the last few months. No woman drives me crazy the way you do, and no woman turns me on like you do. No woman has ever brought me to my knees so fast. I’m not someone who gets scared, Mary, but what Seer said scared the hell out of me.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me.”
“Everything he said has come true so far.”
“Remember what we said last night,” I say. I want to change the subject. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. If I die saving Knives, then I died for someone that matters. What better way is there to die? “How is Maximo?”
“He’s still strapped to the chair. His brother, Moretti, is there too. Even if Moretti doesn’t remember Maximo and his daughter, he says he remembers how he feels, so they are talking about Natalia.”
“Is it really necessary to keep him down there? He is three fingers less,” I point out. “And it isn’t like he is truly the bad guy. He isn’t my father. I feel like that’s where the attention needs to be.”
“He turned his back on the club. Reaper isn’t sure what to do with him.”
I hand him the tray, and Knives places the empty plate and tray on the dresser. “I know what to do with you,” I say in a low purr, rubbing my hand over the bulge behind his zipper.
“Is that right?” His hands fall to my ass and grip the cheeks. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” I whisper, licking up his neck. “But in the best way.”
“You want me again? Is your pussy greedy for my cock, Hellraiser?”
My aching hole flutters with need, wanting nothing more than to be stretched by his cock. I want to feel the piercings rub against that spot inside me. I want to feel him pour inside me again. I rock my bare pussy against his jeans, wetting them with the liquid lust he causes to erupt from me.
“Fuck. This is going to be quick. I need you too fucking much,” he says, dipping his hands between us to free himself. The heavy head slaps against my clit the moment he is free, and the hoops leave a slight sting behind. I toss my head back and moan and rub my slit over his flesh, similar to what he did to me last night.
I don’t know what it is about it but feeling him against me like this turns me on so much that I know if we only did this, I could climax. “Oh, you feel so good, baby.” I quicken my speed, chasing every spark that ignites through my body after his cock rubs over my clit.
“I need more. Fuck this,” he growls, and when I’m about to slide down, he shoves himself inside me, pushing in to the hilt, sending an electric surge all the way up my entire body.
“Look at you,” he admires me by sliding his hands over my breasts and stomach. Every scratch of his hands, every glide of his cock, every breath heating the skin of my neck from his lips, I fall.
I fall into him.
I fall in love with him.
I fall for him.
“I’m going to come, Hellraiser,” he growls, fucking me so hard the bed slides across the floor and the mattress groans. “Come with me.” His fingers twist and pluck my clit, electrifying me, and my arms spread out just as my back bows and my orgasm possesses me.
He groans deep in his throat, a sound of pure pleasure as he feels my release dripping down his shaft. In three more thrusts, he plants himself inside me, emptying his warmth as deep as biology allows him to go.
“Nothing feels better than you. You’ve fucked me up, Mary. You got me all tangled up in your web.”
“I understand your demon dick now,” I gasp, shoving my hair off my sweaty face as I fall onto the bed.
My body shakes as he laughs. “My what?”
“Your demon dick. 666. It possesses me,” I gasp, swallowing to coat my dry throat.
His laugh his louder, shaking my breasts as he lays his head on my chest, his fingers digging into my sides. “Demon dick, huh? I’ve never heard it called that before.”
“I thought you named it that because of the tattoo.”
“I just wanted the tattoo, but now that I think about it, it makes sense, and you’re inflating my ego, so please don’t stop talking.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up,” he says with a smile, then starts tickling my sides. “You.”
“No! No!” I scream, shouting with laughter as he tickles me from my armpits to my hips. His cock is still inside me, and every time I try to get away, he hardens again. “Oh my god, I give. I give.”
“Tell me you love me, and I’ll stop.”
“Wh—” my words are broken as I come down from the tickle high. “What?”
“Tell me you love me, and I’ll stop.” His face gets serious, the fun expression is gone, and the serious mask falls over him. His blue eyes aren’t as inviting. Like if he doesn’t hear the answer he wants, he might kill me instead.
Loving him might kill me anyway.
“I love you,” I say to him, pressing my hand to his cheek.
“Really? You aren’t just saying that because I asked you to say it?”
“Well, yeah,” I pluck a few hairs on his chest when the excitement falls from his face. “Hey, you know I do. I think I have for a long time. Why?”
“I’ve never been loved before, so I wanted to know if you did. I love you too, you know. And if you didn’t, I’d make you love me.”
“You wouldn’t ever have to make me. I simply, just… do.”
A knock comes from the door, ruining the sweet moment we are having. I was ready to jump on that demon dick again and go for another ride after he admitted he loved me.
“Go away!” Knives says, licking his lips as he pulls out of me, only to slide back in, which steals my ability to breathe.
“Knives, Mary, you’re going to want to come out here.”
Knives’ head falls on my stomach and mutters something I can’t understand.
“Slingshot, we will be out in a minute,” I holler.
“Knives, you’re going to want to load up,” Slingshot warns, and that gets Knives’ attention.
He lifts up and pulls out, grumbling in discontent, and if I’m not mistaken, whimpers when he stares at my pussy. “One of these days, we are going to stay in bed all day. I’m going to fuck this mouth—” he rubs his fingers over my lips, “—this pussy,” he slaps between my legs and my legs tremble, “—and this ass.” His finger rims the forbidden hole, teasing me. “I want to own every inch of you.”
“You do, Knives. You do. More than anyone ever has.”
He brings my knuckles to his mouth and gives me a kiss. “Come on, let’s go see what is in store for us and why I need to pack heat.”
“Oh, you’re packing heat.”
He swats my ass as I get up, and my cheeks hurt from grinning so much. He stands up and tucks himself in his jeans, careful as he zips. “Why don’t you go without me? I’ll catch up,” I say, opening a drawer to pull out a simple yet sexy black pair of panties.
“You are not wearing those out there.”
“I wouldn’t just be wearing these,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “I’ll be wearing pants.”
“Yes, but then I’d know you’re wearing them, and then I won’t be able to focus on being the big bad man they want me to be, because all I’ll be able to think about is the sexy underwear you have on.”
“You’ll live.”
He crosses his arms and watches me get dressed. His eyes stay heated as I slide on a pair of jeans, taking my sweet time, so I torture him. I throw on a shirt, then my leather jacket, put my hair up, and go brush my teeth. When I’m in the restroom, I spray on perfume and apply my red lipstick. I’m not sure what it is about it, but it makes me feel empowered.
I walk out of the bathroom, and Knives’ fists clench. “You do this just to t
est me.”
I rub a finger down his chest as I strut away from him and head toward the bedroom door. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Oh, but I do.
I love testing him.
I stop by my bedroom and grab a few ninja stars per Slingshot’s request. Mary is behind me, safe and alive, and it’s hard not to think about what waits for us in 13 days. She’s so nonchalant about it, and it irks me.
I don’t care what we have to do. I don’t care if I have to lock her in jail 13 days from now; she isn’t going to be anywhere near me. I’ll make damn sure of that. “You ready to go see what the fuss is about?” I ask her, noticing how I don’t like that her leather jacket doesn’t have my property patch on it
Holy shit.
The pain in my ass is the love of life.
Go fucking figure.
I want my name tattooed on her too. I want there to be no doubt who she belongs to. Everyone here knows, but everyone out there in the world doesn’t. One look at the woman tattooed on my arm, and then one look at the woman by my side, makes it obvious I belong to her. I want it to be obvious that she belongs to me.
“Yeah, the voices are getting louder, so that can’t be good,” she says.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder as we walk down the hallway to the main room, and saying the voices are getting louder is an understatement.
Reaper and Mercy are going at each other’s throats.
Whistler is behind Mercy, gripping someone by the back of the neck that has seen much better days. One, Whistler’s righthand man, has a gun aimed at the stranger’s head.
“Go in the room with the other girls, Mary. I’ll get you when it’s safe.”
She nods at me, giving me big round Hershey’s kiss eyes when Reaper turns around and points at her. “She stays!” His booming voice has her flinching.
Mercy shakes his head and says something, but I can’t hear it since Tool shoves him from behind, which starts a fucking brawl. Mercy rears his fist back and punches Tool, which dislodges the screwdriver from his ear, and it clatters to the floor. Tyrant latches onto Whistler’s arm, and Yeti is in front of Tool, growling so deep, drool starts to drip off his canines.
Another one of Whistler’s men, Socks, according to his patch, gets a hard hit from Skirt. Socks stumbles back, and before I can pull Mary back, he slams into her, knocking her off her feet. Her head bounces against the wall, and her eyes roll back.
“Mary!” I dive for her, gathering her in my arms before she can hit the floor.
Okay. Now I’m fucking pissed. “Enough!” I yell, flinging a star across the room until it lands right in Whistler’s shoulder. I throw another before anyone can think, making sure the next one lands in Socks. The fucker.
Everyone stops yelling, and Doc comes from the kitchen, wiping his hands off after dealing with Maximo, and squats down to check on Mary. “I’ve got her,” he whispers.
I stand slowly, wanting to kill everyone in the room. “What the fuck is going on?”
Something hits me on the forehead, and I see Slingshot across the room, hiding the slingshot behind his back, pointing at Patrick, who then throws a bag of skittles in his face. One annoying MC brother at a time.
“You fucking got me with a ninja star,” Whistler groans, leaning against the couch. “I knew you were good with them, but holy shit.” He cups the star and has to let go of the guy he has a hold of, but he stays right where he is, so he isn’t a prisoner. “Someone get this fucking thing out of me.”
“Not a chance in hell,” Bullseye says from behind him, then moves to the side and flicks the star, pulling a hiss from Whistler. “Whoops.”
“Knives, Mary is fine. She’s just knocked out,” Doc informs me.
“Just knocked out? She wouldn’t be knocked out if everyone in the room could act civil.”
“Knives, that was before Mercy came to our doorstep and said he had information on Mary’s father. Apparently, the FBI has been investigating him for a while now,” Reaper says.
I stomp forward and press a star under Mercy’s chin before he can blink. “Are you even good at your job? He abused her for twelve years. Twelve. Where were you and your agents?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that,” he says, the crinkles around his eyes not only showing age, but sorrow. I hate that I know he is sincere. “I hope we can take him down. He has really built a name for himself over the years.” Mercy looks toward the guy they brought in, who has a black hood over his head. “He can help.”
“Why is he hooded?” Patrick asks, popping a peanut in his mouth. Ever since he stopped drinking, Patrick has been eating his weight in peanuts. I think it helps him stay off the bottle.
“That’s One’s doing. He said he didn’t like how ‘sad’ the guy looked.”
“I don’t like sad people. They freak me out,” One says, shrugging a shoulder as he holsters his weapon.
“This fucking star hurts! Get it out,” Socks yells.
“No one help him. He is the reason why Mary is knocked out,” I say.
“Yeah, suffer, asshole,” Bullseye grumbles, and he and I tap knuckles.
Mercy rips the star from Whistler’s shoulder, and the guy’s knees buckle while he rolls his lips together to hold in the pain. “Thanks,” he says on a held breath.
Mercy side-eyes me and tosses my star to me, then rips off the black hood from the guy. “I believe you know each other,” Mercy states. “Thomas, this is your brother. Mason.”
Blood rushes to my head. My heart beats so fast; I’m positive it is about to pump right out of my chest. “That’s impossible.” I stumble, and Reaper catches me. My world tilts as I become dizzy, memories flood my mind, and his death plays over and over again in my head at the speed of light in this very moment.
“Thomas,” Mason says my name with a familiarity that only a brother would. He struggles to get out of One’s hold, but he can’t. “Let go of me. Thomas, it’s me. It’s Mason. I swear to god, it’s me.”
“No,” I shake my head. “No!” I yell. I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe. I gasp for air, pressing my hands to my head when the pressure becomes too unbearable. “You can’t be. You can’t. I watched you die! I saw it.”
“It’s me. You always take responsibility for your actions,” he says, tilting my crooked world back into place.
Only Mason would know the very last words we ever said to one another.
“You can’t be real,” I whisper, my hands shaking. I glance over to Mary, needing her more than ever right now, but she’s still unconscious. “You died.”
“Yeah, that’s a long story,” Mercy says. “He’s been an FBI agent for a while now. He’s been undercover for Mary’s father.”
There are so many questions.
“Who is Mason?” Slingshot asks, popping a skittle in his mouth. Everyone turns to him and stares from his poorly timed question. “What? What’d I say? Oh, please. As if no one else is curious?”
“Mason was my foster brother. I watched him die when I was fifteen, after he killed three guys that constantly bullied me. That’s how I know this is wrong.” I point to the man calling himself Mason, then to Mercy. “You have it wrong. This man no longer exists. And if he was safe, why is he zip-tied?”
“That’s Zip-tie’s doing,” Mercy says. “No one trusts anyone.” He snatches my ninja star from my hand and sliced the thick plastic, so the stranger’s hands are free. The guy that says he is Mason.
“I need to go. I need to clear my head.”
“Thomas—”
I silence Mason with a quick punch to the jaw, then another, and once he is off-balance, I slip a star into my hand from my cut pocket—the one I made out of the knives I found on the road all those years ago—and throw it as hard as I possibly can through the air. I’ve never thrown a star so hard in my life, but I’m so fucking mad.
So fucking hurt.
The star veers to the right, away from harming his heart, which is too f
ucking bad. It lodges deep into the muscle of his shoulder. Mason stumbles back and holds his hand to the wound. Blood is spilling, but he’ll live.
“I deserve that,” he says, as if we haven’t gone years without talking. As if I haven’t gone every day without mourning my brother. As if I didn’t visit his grave every single fucking day and wish like hell I had been in his place instead.
“You deserve that?” I ask, taking a step toward him, then back, because I don’t want to be anywhere near him right now. I still don’t believe it’s really him. “This is a fucking joke, right? You expect me to believe my dead brother has worked for the FBI all these years? What… he faked his death and wasn’t allowed to tell anyone? And then, boom, coincidence, he works for my ol’ lady’s father? Get the fuck out of here.”
“It’s all true. Every last bit of it,” Mercy says. “It’s a long story about how we found him, but—”
“—There are no buts,” my throat burns as I yell. “And I don’t give a fucking shit. You’ve been dead to me twenty years. You can be dead for another twenty.” I stalk forward and yank the star from his shoulder and start to walk out the door, then pause. I turn back to Mercy. “How long have you known? Have you known the entire time?”
“No, just recently. When I got put on the case, they gave me the file,” he says. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but Mason is our best lead to bring down her father.”
“No, Seer is.”
“We checked all the hotels with the letter M, and he wasn’t there Knives. Mason might be our best bet,” Reaper acknowledges.
“I would rather die than ever ask for his help. A person that would lie to his brother about being alive… all this time, knowing he was all I had, and still chose to leave me alone?” I lock stares with him, and Mason steps forward, holding his hand to his shoulder.
I hold up my hand and shake my head. “Don’t. Nothing you say will ever make me forgive you. Any information you have for Mary and about her father, tell Reaper. They will update me. I don’t want to hear a thing from you. And fuck you, Mercy,” I add for the hell of it.