American Street Kings: The Complete Series

by Bella J

  “Okay.” I held out my hands, pointing to both in each direction, standing right in the middle of them. “I’m starting to feel dizzy.”

  “It’s easy, Alyx,” Onyx continued. “Granite is so stuck on that guilt trip he’s currently on, he doesn’t want you to know that he basically cut the throats of our crew in order to save Neon’s life.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

  Onyx shrugged. “He doesn’t want you to forgive him,” Onyx studied his brother, “because he can’t forgive himself.”

  “Fuck you, Onyx,” Granite spat.

  The smirk remained on Onyx’s face. “You’re welcome, brother.” He turned and left, as if he didn’t just drop this huge bomb on us—on me.

  I was frozen on the spot. “Is it true?”

  “My brother doesn’t know when to shut up.”

  I spun around. “For once, just cut the crap, Granite. For once, pretend that you’re not this arrogant hard-ass without a heart and tell me the truth, man to woman. No bullshit.”

  Suddenly, a glimmer of hope lit up inside me. Maybe—just maybe all wasn’t lost. God, I was hoping with every fiber of my being that he would be able to give me something—anything that would make it possible for me to forgive him. Now, while I stood there staring at him, I realized that was the worst part. The part where I hated how much I still wanted him even after what I thought he had done. But up until now, I would have rather died than admit it, and deep down, I hated that it wasn’t possible for me to forgive him. It was the one thing that slowly chewed away at my soul because it felt so incredibly wrong to want to forgive the man who, in my eyes, was responsible for Neon’s death.

  I leaned my head to the side. “Please, Granite. Be a man, and not just the president of a biker crew.”

  “Fine,” he stepped forward, “you want me to talk to you as a man, and not a monster.”

  “That’s not what I said. I didn’t say you were a monster.”

  “But you thought it. All the time you spent in that room crying, hurting, grieving—you thought it.”

  “What did you expect? You let me believe a woman who was supposedly family to you was dead, and you did nothing to save her.”

  He shrugged. “You’re right, I lied. But you want the truth, here’s the truth.” He took a step closer, and his eyes darkened. “As a man and not a president of a biker crew, all I can think about is you. All I think about when I lay in bed at night is how it felt to be with you, how it felt to be inside you.”

  My thighs clenched.

  “As a man, all I want is to listen to the soft moans that drip from your lips while I kiss you, touch you,” he stepped right up to me, looking down at me with hungry eyes, “while I fuck you.” Without warning, he placed an arm around me, lifting me easily, and I had no choice but to wrap my legs around him, steadying myself by grabbing his shoulders. This time he was looking straight at me, our eyes the same level. “While you were in there hating me, I hated myself for letting you. There were so many times I wanted to storm inside that room and tell you the truth, to make you want me again.”

  “Then what stopped you?”

  He cupped the back of my head with his palm. “You did. It was easier to let you hate me than it was to have you forgive me when I couldn’t forgive myself. What happened to Neon was my fault because of my obsession with a pretty ballerina girl. If I never came up with this fucked-up plan to justify why I had to take you, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

  I eased my hand across his shoulder, touching the back of his neck. “So, Onyx was right.”

  “Fuck Onyx.”

  My gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips before looking back up. “You should have told me.”

  “You should never have watched me from your damn window, ballerina girl.” His lips crashed against mine, my back hitting the wall as he pinned me between his hard body and the cold concrete. His kiss burned and reverberated through my entire body like rolling thunder. His scent, his taste, everything about him overpowered all my senses, and the world around us disappeared. It was just us.

  No drama.

  No pain.

  No heartache.

  Nothing.

  Just us.

  His lips were hard, rough and demanding. The way his tongue explored my mouth, it was like a man starved for a taste, and he couldn’t get enough. My body hummed, an ache throbbing between my thighs, and I tightened my legs around him.

  A rumbling groan vibrated from his throat, and he moved his tongue deeper into my mouth. It was almost as if he was trying to consume me, and I wanted him to. I wanted to be consumed by him. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than for him to claim me in every way possible.

  He grabbed my hands from the back of his neck and pinned them above my head, pressing me harder against the wall. I moaned the second he moved his hips, thrusting forward grinding his cock between my legs.

  Greedy lips moved down my chin, across my jaw, sucking the soft skin of my neck. “You have no idea what I want to do to you, ballerina girl.” His voice was low and deep, sending shivers up my spine. “If you did, you’d know exactly what kind of monster I really am.”

  I let out a breath as I craned my neck for him. “I can’t fight this anymore, Granite. I can’t fight us anymore.”

  He tore his lips away from my neck, lifted his head, and met my eyes. “And I can’t be the better man here by walking away. I’m not a good man, Alyx. Don’t ever mistake me for a man who would do the right thing if that meant letting you go. Because I can’t, and I won’t.” He leaned closer, nipping my bottom lip between his teeth. “I can’t.” Placing the tip of his nose against mine, he whispered, “No matter how badly I want to be a good man, I’m not. Bad runs through my veins. I’ll destroy you, but not even that can stop me from keeping you.”

  I closed my eyes, feeling his warm breath on my wet lips. “Every decision has its consequences. I watched you from my bedroom window for years, and now I’ve fallen into the arms of the devil.” I gently kissed his lips. “If I was a smarter woman, stronger, I would have fought it—fought you. But I’m not…and I can’t.”

  “That’s good.” The tip of his tongue traced along my bottom lip. “Because no matter how strong you are, you’ll never be strong enough to fight me.”

  He let go of my hands and eased me back down to the ground. With rapid breaths and a wildly beating heart, I stared up at him, his expression unreadable.

  “I’m going to say this again.” He tipped my chin up toward him. “I’m not a good man. Don’t ever make the mistake of forgetting that.”

  He stepped back, and his chest rose and fell, his body rigid and tense. “Go to your room.”

  I opened my mouth, but he narrowed his eyes at me. With one single glance, he managed to make me bite my tongue. It wasn’t in me to fight him. He was right. I’d never be strong enough.

  The second I stepped into the room, he pushed his body hard against my back, and I heard the door shut behind us.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  It wasn’t a request. It was a demand—a demand I was too willing to obey. The skin on my face and neck was hot, yet my fingers were cold as I pulled the shirt over my head.

  Within the silence, the atmosphere screamed with a deafening desire. It crackled between us, coating my skin with promise. And as I slipped off my pants, I felt his eyes on me, raking over me. For a second, my own insecurities over a body I had been so cruel to made me hesitate. And now, while I stood there naked, I wished I had taken better care of it. I wanted to give Granite perfection. But I couldn’t, not when I looked like this.

  “Turn around.” Again, nothing in his voice gave the impression that it was a request.

  I closed my eyes, embarrassment burning my cheeks, yet it wasn’t strong enough to let my desire dissipate.

  When I turned and my eyes met his, I swallowed hard. Dark and beaming irises stared at me. “You want me to cut the bullshit,
be straight with you, man to woman.” He slipped his cut off his arms, down his back. “Then let me show you exactly what kind of man I want to be when it comes to you. But a fair warning,” he pulled his shirt over his head, wild curls falling around his broad shoulders, “once I start, I’m not going to stop.”

  Chapter Nine

  Granite

  I wasn’t lying when I said I wasn’t a good man. The thought of letting her go had crossed my mind on more than one occasion—to set her free. But that thought always ended with me saying, “Fuck, no,” out loud. I couldn’t stomach the idea of not having her again. I had finally found the best high I had ever been on between her legs. For years, I sat in the shadows desiring her, hidden by the cloak of darkness and dreaming of the day I’d finally taste her. And now that I had found heaven between those thighs, there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d give it up. Never.

  I allowed my gaze to travel down her body, slowly, taking in every inch of her. From the way she shifted from one leg to the other, it was clear she felt uncomfortable under my penetrating stare, but I didn’t give a fuck. In fact, I loved it. I loved her shyness, her innocence—even after I’d already corrupted it once. Her innocence was the kind that couldn’t be destroyed, no matter how many times you tainted it. God knew I was willing to spend the rest of my miserable life trying. Ruining her innocence would be my biggest fucking accomplishment.

  I unbuckled my belt, my gaze pinned on her tiny breasts. Her rosy nipples were hard, the small, rounded flesh begging to be palmed. Her stomach was flat—too flat, almost sinking in just above her hips. Jesus, my ballerina girl was wasting away. It was something I needed to fix once I was done getting my fill of her.

  Dark curls had started to appear around her pussy, her legs slightly parted at the apex of her thighs. She might be underweight, but she still made my dick hard in a way no other woman ever had. And knowing I had been the only man to experience the paradise between her legs had me on the verge of turning savage.

  I cut my gaze to hers, her cheeks a healthy, warm pink. “Ever since the day I took you, you hated me.”

  She bit her lip.

  “Yet you gave yourself to me once.”

  She let go of her lip with a pop. “I once had this friend who called me a masochist.”

  “Smart friend.”

  “Smarter than me, yes. She never would have fallen for you.”

  I slipped my jeans to the floor and stalked toward her. “Have you fallen for me?”

  “Maybe.”

  Her gaze dropped to my cock, bobbing and standing proud. Rock fucking hard for her.

  “Stupid, naïve ballerina girl.”

  Her chin lifted in defiance. “I’ve heard that before.”

  “Yet here you are, naked, and practically dripping for me.”

  “What gives you that idea?”

  I grinned. “Because you smell like sex, and I haven’t even touched you yet.” I reached out, cupped her pussy, and watched as her mouth formed the perfect ‘o.’ She was so wet, I could easily slip a single digit through her inner lips, all the way from her clit to her entrance and back again.

  Her moan was involuntary as a shudder wracked through her.

  “You like that, don’t you? My touch.”

  She didn’t answer me…at least not with her mouth. But her eyes spoke volumes, burning with a hunger I so easily recognized.

  I smiled. “Your friend is right. You are a masochist, liking my touch so much.”

  “I wonder whose fault is that.”

  The sneer in her voice was loud and clear, and I reacted to it by grabbing her chin, forcing her to look up at me. “Do you want to be here?”

  Her eyes searched mine.

  I gripped her jaw tighter. “I asked you a question. Do you want to be here?”

  “I don’t see my answer making any difference.”

  “It will determine whether or not you like what I’m about to do to you.”

  Blue irises gleamed with defiance. “A moment ago, when you slipped a finger between my legs, you were pretty convinced this is what I want.”

  A smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth, and I let go of her jaw, slowly starting to circle her, my gaze traveling over her naked body inch by inch. “Tell me one thing.”

  She glanced at me over her naked shoulder.

  “If I had to set you free…would you run?”

  Her gaze dropped. “Would you if you were me?”

  I pressed my naked front against her back. “In a heartbeat.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you’re not me.”

  Wrapping my arms around her middle, I picked her up. “My stupid, naïve ballerina girl.” I carried her to the bed, putting her feet on the ground before forcing her to bend forward with my hand pushing down on her spine.

  “Remember the first time? When I told you it was going to hurt?”

  She nodded, already twisting the sheets between her fingers.

  “Well, this is going to hurt more.”

  I licked my fingers, even though I knew she didn’t need it, and slipped my hand between her legs while her pussy bloomed with her ass in the air. I grabbed my cock and squeezed as the head tingled with a need to fuck. Up and down I pumped my length, needing a little relief from the ache. I thrust forward, sliding my cock up her ass cheeks, letting her feel it against her skin. Her hips bucked, pushing backward in search of it. But I denied her by pulling back, this time tracing the tip of my cock against the round flesh of her ass.

  She whimpered, and the sound was like a lightning bolt that struck right down my spine, slamming against my balls. Jesus.

  I wanted to push inside her. I wanted to fill her to the brim, fuck her until my name was a prayer on her lips. But I needed her to want this. I needed her to tell me this was more than just my own selfish needs.

  “Do you want this, ballerina girl? Do you want my cock? Do you want me to fuck you?”

  I leaned over her and cupped one of her breasts, and it earned me another deep moan from her lips.

  “I’m not fucking you unless you tell me this is what you want.”

  Her grip on the sheets tightened, but she refused to say anything.

  I tugged at her nipple. “I’m serious, Alyx. I might be a bad motherfucker, but right now, this is me trying to be a better man.”

  “Why?” Her voice was nothing but a breath. “Why now?”

  I brought the tip of my cock to her entrance but kept it there, not moving another inch. “Because for a woman like you, I’m at least willing to fucking try.”

  Without warning, Alyx reared back and took all of me inside her. A roar tore from my throat, and I dug my fingers into the flesh of her hips.

  “Fuck, Alyx.”

  “Yes, Granite,” she breathed, “I want you. I’ve always wanted you. Ever since I saw you the first time outside my window, I’ve wanted you.”

  I pulled back, only to thrust forward again. “Jesus. You are a masochist.” I slammed into her, gripping her hips tighter. She was so fucking wet, so warm from the inside, it was teetering on the edge of losing control. It was making my legs shake.

  I hit her deep, right at the center of her core, and she shuddered, fine droplets of perspiration forming all along her spine.

  After another hard thrust, she cried out, and I leaned forward with my chest against her back. “I know I’m hurting you, but I can’t stop.”

  “Granite—”

  “Don’t fucking tell me to stop, Alyx. Don’t tell me to stop because I can’t, and that’s one line I do not want to cross with you.” Harder, faster, deeper I pushed inside her. Her body was like a fucking instrument, and together we were one filthy, dirty, perfect melody.

  Alyx let go of the sheets and brought herself up, pressing her back to my chest. Her body was hot, her skin wet and gliding against mine in a rhythm that had us melting into each other.

  Her tiny frame fit perfectly against mine, and I could easily envelop her, wrapping my arms tightly around her small
waist.

  Her hips moved with mine, her arms reaching up and folding around my neck as I breathed against her shoulder—warm, rapid, desperate breaths.

  My hand dipped between her legs, my fingertip finding the sensitive, swollen bud. The sweet whimpers that crossed her lips had my self-control hanging on a thread. I couldn’t lose it. Not yet. I needed her to come first. Always first.

  I touched, rubbed, and worked her pussy like my life depended on it. And the way she let go, how she embraced the primal need for pleasure, was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. My pretty ballerina girl, riding my cock like she owned it.

  Per-fucking-fection.

  “Granite,” she whispered. “You need to promise me something.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not letting you go, ballerina girl.”

  “No. Not that.” Her fingers weaved through my hair, clutching tight. “I need you to promise me—”

  I plunged deeper into her, my knees getting weak from crouching. “What is it?”

  She pulled at my hair, and I felt her inner walls close in, throbbing around my cock as she came.

  I reached for her throat, forcing her head back against my shoulder while wrapping my fingers around her neck. I wanted to watch. I wanted to see the look on her face while she came on my dick.

  The glow of pink on her cheeks was beautiful, and her lips parted as she let out rapid breaths. With her eyes closed, sweat starting at her temples with strands of hair falling over her face, she was fucking exquisite. Nothing in this entire goddamn world compared to her. Nothing.

  I wanted to be with this woman for the rest of my life. My cock would never know another pussy again. Only hers. Just her.

  It started at the base of my neck, trickling across my spine, growing in intensity as it made its way down my body. The second it slammed against my groin, shooting through my length to the tip of my cock, my pleasure pulsed deep into her.

  Sex had never been so powerful, so disarming for me. My entire body went weak, my legs shaking as my orgasm peaked.

  “Promise me, Granite.” Her voice broke through the haze.