by Bella J
He yanked my upper body up, and I shrieked from the pain in my scalp. “Don’t tell me how to fuck you. While my cock is buried inside that pussy of yours, I’m in control.”
He gave a few more thrusts, and I couldn’t stop the cries of ecstasy that slipped from my mouth, thankful we were cloaked with darkness.
“You feel that?” His cock twitched inside me while his hand slipped under my shirt, palming my breast. “That’s me. That’s my cock inside you. No one else’s. And you know what?” He buried his face in my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. “No other man will come near your pussy again. It’s mine now. You. Are mine.”
A shriek tore from my throat as his teeth sank into my shoulder, the searing pain a sign he had torn through flesh. But the pain was like gasoline on a fire that was already burning me to nothing but ash.
Onyx’s grunts filled my ear as he pounded into me from behind. My thighs were coated with arousal, his cock easily slipping in and out of me. The slapping sound of flesh against flesh echoed through the dark, a filthy melody our moans hummed in tune with.
His palm slid from my breast and cupped me between my legs, his fingers finding that sensitive bud that would finally push me over the edge.
I reached behind me, my back arched as I pushed my hips back even farther, trying to spread my thighs wider.
Harder, faster, Onyx fucked me like it would mean death if he didn’t. And during it all, I realized I had never, ever felt so free, unchained, and unburdened.
Wet lips kissed up the side of my neck, his tongue lapping against my skin. I could feel my climax starting at the top of my spine, slowly rolling down, leaving a trail of pleasure to spread throughout my body.
I tightened my grip around his neck, and I flexed my hips back, meeting him thrust for thrust. With my eyes closed and my mind rid of any thought, I surrendered to the euphoria Onyx so expertly fucked into me.
It was beautiful. It was lovemaking.
It was raw. It was primal. It was downright dirty, being fucked against a motorcycle in the dark by a man who was supposed to be nothing…but a target.
Placing my palm over his between my legs, I pushed harder, his finger working me from the front while he pistoned in and out of me from behind, pushing me to the pinnacle of pleasure.
My mouth formed an O when an orgasm rushed over me, a hurricane of euphoria tearing through my body.
“Fuck,” Onyx cursed as I voiced my pleasure with cries. His body tensed behind me, his steady rhythm faltering as he lost control. His lips sucked on the skin of my neck, and I felt his cock jerk inside me, his release pumping deep.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed as he wrapped his arms around my waist, his dick still inside me. “So, here’s the deal,” he started, sounding out of breath while our bodies shuddered against each other. “I don’t know what the fuck is happening between us. All I know is…you belong to me now.”
Chapter Eleven
Wraith
After what happened between me and Onyx, I didn’t want to go back.
Home.
Finally experiencing what it felt like to be with a man without pain, without torment, it was bliss. In those moments while Onyx transported me away from all my demons, I felt normal. I felt light. And going home would only bring back all the bad that would poison me again. I wanted to hold on to this feeling of freedom for a little while longer.
So I went back with him, back to the clubhouse of the American Street Kings. It was stupid and reckless of me, risking everything by going with him. But I couldn’t stop myself.
As we walked into the half empty bar, I spotted Granite and the rest of the crew still drinking and laughing, the clock against the wall showing it was past three in the morning. The stench of spilled alcohol was sharp, empty beer bottles and glasses scattered around on the tables.
Manic came stumbling our way, clearly drunk off his ass. “There’s the pretty lady.”
“Ignore him.” Onyx placed his hand on the small of my back, guiding me in the other direction. But Manic stepped in front of us.
“Are you two,” he gestured between us, eyes narrowed like he was trying really hard to focus, “like, a thing now?”
“A thing?” Onyx scowled. “What are you, twelve?”
“No.” Manic swallowed. “I am drunk, though. My friend Jack Daniel’s and I had a little heart to heart tonight.”
“Clearly. Just remember your friend Jack when you barf all over your bedroom floor in about an hour.”
Manic blatantly ignored Onyx while staring at me unabashedly. “You’re hot.”
I snickered, placing my palm in front of my mouth while Onyx seemed like he was on the verge of choking the club’s road captain.
“So, I’m going to ignore you and walk away before your friend Jack gets acquainted with my foot up your ass.”
I couldn’t stop smiling as Onyx brushed past Manic towards the bar. “Drink?”
“Dear God, yes.”
He rounded the bar, reaching for the tequila on the top shelf and pouring two shots. We tossed it back without even blinking, neither of us cringing as the burn settled in our stomachs.
After pouring the second round, he placed the bottle back and leaned over the counter, looking me in the eye. “Tell me something.”
“Like what?”
“Anything.”
I shrugged, leisurely drawing circles around the edge of the shot glass. “I’m your typical stereotyped troubled girl. Parents died when I was a teenager, and my brother took care of me ever since.” I picked up the glass and shot the tequila down my throat. “I rode with some clubs, traveled around looking for peace, yet always finding trouble.”
Onyx reached out and touched my arm covered in tats. “Do any of these mean something?”
“Some.” I didn’t want to elaborate.
“And the poison ivy on your side?”
I smiled. “It’s a warning.”
“What kind of warning?”
Our eyes met. “That I’m poisonous, especially to those closest to me.”
Onyx’s lips curved at the edges. “I think it’s more like you can create an itch that’s impossible to scratch.”
I burst out laughing. “Oh, my God. Where do you get all these lame lines?”
“It’s a talent.”
“It’s more like a curse.”
Our laughs lingered in the eerie silence of a now deserted bar. It was the perfect moment. “And you. What’s your emotional wound?”
He frowned. “My what?”
“You know…your emotional wound. Everyone has one. Like, you fuck girls with dark hair because they remind you of a mom who deserted you. Or you don’t screw girls with blue eyes because your dead girlfriend had the most beautiful blue eyes.” I waved my hand around. “You know, some tragedy that fucked you up and shaped you into who you are today.”
“Is that what happened to you? Some tragic event make you go on the road alone?”
And just like that, he had turned the tables, shined the motherfucking spotlight on me.
I tried to keep a straight face. “I asked you first.”
Icy eyes stared at me, studied me, like he was thinking what his next response would be. “What makes you think I have one?”
“Oh, I don’t think you have one. You have several.”
He shot me a charming grin, tucking a strand of dirty blond hair behind his ear. “Let’s just say all my wounds start and end with this club.”
“Yo, Onyx,” Granite called. “Bring your lady friend and join us.”
“Come on.” The second his hand touched mine, I felt it. The butterflies. Something I hadn’t felt in years. It caught me off guard, and I froze, unable to move, or speak, or even fucking think.
“You okay?”
I blinked, shaking my head lightly. “Yes. Yeah…I’m fine.”
He gave me a reassuring smile before we made our way across the bar to the others, hand in hand.
Granite was leaning back in h
is seat, arm draped over his old lady’s shoulders. “Wraith, right?”
“Yeah.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear as I took a seat, Onyx slipping in next to me. “And you’re Granite,” I looked at his old lady, “and you must be Alyx, right?”
She smiled warmly. “That’s right. How do you—”
“Oh, everyone knows who Granite’s old lady is. You’re like the first lady of New York City.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she diverted her eyes. It was true. She really wasn’t from this world, clearly still adjusting and learning that confidence was key when it came to survival.
Onyx shifted next to me. “That’s Dutch, next to him is Ink.” Both nodded. “And that’s Neon.”
The woman sitting next to Alyx gave a half-smile. “Nice to meet you, Wraith.”
“So,” Granite settled in his seat, “where you from?”
“I’m…uh—”
“Around,” Onyx interrupted. “She’s from around town.” He looked my way, his eyes filled with reassurance as he squeezed my hand. He knew personal questions would make me feel uncomfortable.
I cleared my throat, squaring my shoulders, determined to act the part. Looking over at Neon, I smiled. “Are you someone’s old lady?”
Ink coughed—loudly. Very loud. Uncomfortably loud.
Did I just pick up on some sort of vibe between these two?
Neon glared at him with a frown. “No,” she replied slowly, like she was trying to get a message across. “I’m no one’s old lady, and I don’t plan to be.” Funny, she was answering my question, yet she was looking directly at Ink, who seemed really fucking uncomfortable, chugging down his beer.
“Well, that’s not awkward at all,” I remarked under my breath, and Onyx snickered.
“So,” Alyx’s soft voice broke the uneasy tension, “what do you do for a living, Wraith?”
I grabbed Manic’s beer and took a large gulp, ignoring the what-the-fuck look on his face. “I’m a…” I swallowed, “I’m currently between jobs.” It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the truth either. There was a thin black line between telling the whole truth and just a smidgen of the truth—I was currently tiptoeing on that fucking line.
“I’ve never seen you around here at The Hanged Man before.”
My gaze caught hers, her eyebrows furrowed. Was she trying to figure me out? Trying to dissect every word that came out of my mouth?
I sat back, tapping my finger on the table, not taking my eyes off her for a second. “I don’t get out much.”
Ink snickered. “Now, that’s bullshit I refuse to believe.”
Neon slapped him across the chest with a backhand, shooting him a warning glare. Immediately, he zipped his lip.
I noticed her hand was bandaged, and it was clear she was missing a digit. “What happened to your hand?”
All at once, the atmosphere slipped from casual to grim, like everyone was two seconds away from choking on the air around us.
Neon placed her bandaged hand in her other palm. “Some psychopath cut my finger off.”
I snorted, glancing from her to Onyx, only to notice that she wasn’t fucking joking. “Holy shit. Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” Her gaze was downcast, her fingers absentmindedly tracing up her inner arm. “I’m serious.”
“Jesus Christ,” I blurted. “That’s insane.”
When she looked up and right at me, I saw it. I saw the pain. I saw the agony. I saw the rawness of suffering and torment, a haunting of every bad emotion ever experienced by humankind. It resembled my own. It was like looking into a fucking mirror right that very second, and it was terrifying. Disarming. Leaving me unable to take a goddamn breath.
“Jesus. Who the fuck would do something like that?”
Neon sighed then got up from her seat, Alyx following suit. That was when I saw her leg in a cast. Neon settled on her crutches, leaning forward. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t look at anyone. She just stared down to her feet. “The devil.”
Two words. It was only two words, but I could feel the weight of it bearing down on all of us like a fucking curse. I didn’t have to be a part of their crew to know Neon had been broken. Shattered into million pieces. I recognized it, because that was exactly what happened to me.
“Neon.” I turned in my seat to face her, and she stilled. “The devil is only as powerful as you allow him to be.”
There wasn’t a hint of a smile on her face, but I was certain I saw a glimmer of light in her eyes. A sliver of hope.
Ink emptied his beer, slammed it on the table, and stood. But Neon stopped him by holding out her hand. “Don’t, okay? I just need to take one goddamn breath without you hovering over me all the time.”
Ink froze, and I immediately saw the regret in her eyes. The hurt.
“Just,” she moved back, “give me some space.”
Ink nodded, and it was hard not to feel sorry for the man. For a mean-ass motherfucker, he might as well have been completely naked right then—transparent in his feelings for this woman. Even with the heart of thorns I carried, I could see how much he cared for her. It was sad. For me, anyway, because I knew if Neon was half as broken as I thought she was, she’d never be able to give him what he so desperately wanted. Her heart.
Alyx followed Neon, and I turned back in my seat. “What happened to her?” I whispered to Onyx.
He let go of my hand and grabbed his beer. “We fucked up, that’s what happened to her.”
“What do you—”
“Where’s all the whores at?” Manic chimed in with a slur. “There was a time this place was filled from wall to wall with pussy and floor to ceiling with tits. Fun times.”
“Jesus, Manic.” Onyx glared at him. “I swear to God, your ability to be an asshole just gets better and better.”
“Yo, Ink,” Granite called. “You okay over there?”
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand before downing his beer. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “No. Fuck, I don’t know.”
“Give her time, man.”
He simply nodded, eyes fixed on the empty bottle of beer in front of him, yet it was clear he was merely staring into nothingness. Granite gazed at him with pity, a certain empathy shining from his irises as he regarded his SAA. And I could practically feel the tension roll off Onyx and onto me. I had only been in their presence for twenty minutes, and already I felt the bond between all of them, a comradery that went so much deeper than a simple patch. They weren’t just crew members, they were brothers. Just by sitting here, around this table and in their presence, I was starting to realize the American Street Kings wasn’t at all how I imagined. The way Granite hovered over Alyx, the way he stared at her—it would have taken a special kind of idiot not to see how fucking dedicated he was to her. And Ink? I’d known the man for mere minutes, and I already knew Neon was engraved on his goddamn soul.
This wasn’t something I was used to, this feeling of true loyalty—not because of fear, but because of respect.
Where I was from, respect wasn’t earned. It was taken. Demanded.
Dutch got up, grabbed his beer, and slapped Manic on the head. “You should get your drunk ass to bed.”
“Fuck off. You’re not my mother.”
“Dude, you don’t even know what your mother looks like. For all you know, I might be.” Dutch shot him a cocky grin, and Manic just narrowed his eyes.
“Fucker.”
“Cocksucker.”
A chuckle vibrated in the back of my throat, and Onyx laughed. The way he smiled, how it reached his eyes, it was mesmerizing. I couldn’t look away, and I wondered how he did it. How he—actually, how all of them could look so happy when their world was cast in shadows and painted with blood. The only person who seemed detached from it all was Ink.
Dutch headed up the stairs, with Manic stumbling not far behind him. Granite got up from his seat and placed his hand on Ink’s shoulder. “Get some rest, man.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He got
up, and after he left, Onyx and I were left alone in a now empty bar.
He placed his hand on my leg. “Come on. I think we need to shower.”
“We?”
The grin on his face widened, a wicked spark glinting in his eyes. My insides started to turn and turn, tighter and tighter, like a vise. There were a thousand warnings going off inside my head, telling me I shouldn’t be here. But I didn’t want to go home either. If I had to weigh my two options, I’d tip the scales toward staying here. With him.
Without taking his eyes off me, he reached out, gently tracing a finger down the side of my face. “Where did you come from, Dahlia Knight?”
The way he said those words, how his eyes seemed to see right through me, I couldn’t stop myself from looking away. It was disarming, like the blue shades in his eyes were reaching deep into my soul, trying to snatch up all my secrets.
He took my chin in his hand and lifted my face to his before tenderly placing his lips against mine, kissing me so softly, like he was expecting me to break any minute. Every hair on my body stood up, waves of electricity igniting every part of me. His kiss was gentle and light, and it was nearly impossible to think a beast of a man like him could kiss a girl with so much affection. It almost felt like he…cared.
He pulled away, his tongue lapping against his lips. “I need you naked and in my shower within the next ten seconds. You good with that?”
There was delay in my response, a quick nod of my head right before he grabbed my hand and rushed up a flight of stairs, dragging me behind him. With every step I took, I felt the anticipation build, but it was stronger this time. Maybe because I now knew what kind of escape waited for me in his arms, what kind of pleasure he was capable of giving me.
I glanced around as we walked down a dimly lit hall. For so long, I’d imagined what it looked like inside the American Street Kings compound. But somehow, I imaged it darker, more ominous and gloomier. They were, after all, one of the most ruthless crews in NYC.
Following Onyx, I tried to take in as much as I could. Tonight, I met everyone who lived here—five men, two women. A few weeks ago, the streets were abuzz with the shooting of a woman who used to hang out with the Kings. Apparently, she kidnapped Granite’s old lady, and he planted some lead in her chest, saving his woman. Her sister left the crew shortly after. New York was a big city, but when it came to motorcycle crews around this part of town, gossip and stories spread like wildfire.