Burning Road (A Devil's Cartel MC Series Book 1)

by Skyla Madi

  “You look…” He locks his stare with mine. “Comfortable.”

  I swallow hard. “I am.”

  Turning, he flicks his head for me to follow him and peers at me over his shoulder, his gaze dropping to my legs and back. “Want a beer?”

  I nod, even though I hate the taste of it, and Judge leaves the hall. I stay rooted on the spot, not sure if I want to sit and drink with Judge without pants on, when the front door is opened again.

  “Might wanna bring her some pants,” I hear Judge call out, and the thought of the whole club being out there is enough to send me scurrying to my room as heat blasts my face.

  I pace for a small eternity before the door opens without a knock. I gasp and grab a black, square cushion from the bed and shield myself with it as Creed crosses the threshold. I glance at the plastic bags he clenches in each hand, then I’m swept up in the flash of his whiskey glare as we make eye contact. I don’t know how he does it, but he makes my clothes feel like sandpaper against my skin. He makes me want them off. Creed kicks the door shut behind him, sealing us in the room. He drops the bags, and they fall to the floor without a thud, spilling clothes in all sorts of feminine hues, the tags still attached. So much color. Did he go shopping for me? I’m surprised by the lack of black, denim, and leather.

  “You’re still alive,” I say, my voice pathetically weak.

  “You sound disappointed.” He shrugs out of his leather vest and tosses it onto the messy bed. He looks pissed—jealous—and I can’t help the ghost of a smile it brings to my lips.

  “I’m not.”

  “Come here and prove it.”

  Creed grips the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his torso and his head. His physique takes my breath away. It’s not the body of a lean man, a man who lives in tight dress shirts made of the finest fabrics. It’s the physique of a hardworking man, one who’s pushed his body to the brink over and over again. I admire his tattoos, the skulls and thorns, roses and bones. In this light, I can tell his torso is heavily scarred, but he’s had them covered with intricate swirls of ink. I bet he has a lot of stories; men from my world have no stories, no tales of near-death experiences. At least, not interesting ones.

  I close the distance between us until the tips of my bare toes kiss the ends of his black boots.

  “Why is Judge here?” I ask as Creed takes the cushion from my hands and tosses it across the room.

  “To relieve Amani. She’d rather be at the clubhouse.”

  “Why are you here?”

  He pinches the hem of my shirt and lifts it. I go with it, allowing him to pull my shirt over my head and throw it to the side. Blush swirls in my chest and travels north as his expression turns hungry at the sight of my naked breasts.

  “Because I’d go mad knowing my best friend was alone in a cabin with my woman.”

  “Your woman?”

  Creed grabs me, and I gasp as he lifts me into his arms, one hand pressed between my shoulders, the other against my ass.

  “You’re not mine?” he asks, his golden eyes flicking between mine, a mix of worry and frustration swirling through them.

  I take a beat to think, knowing men like Creed value words and promises. If I were to be his, will he rule my life? Will it be any different from living under my father’s thumb? Am I throwing one shitty life away for another? As president, would Judge get a say on my life, too?

  “What does it mean to be yours?” I ask, pushing my fingers through his hair. “Are there prerequisites?”

  His lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile. “Only one that’s important.” He moves us toward the large bed and slowly lowers me down, pinning me with his slim hips. “Respect me.”

  “Okay.”

  He cups my breasts in his warm, giant hands and massages them, keeping his eyes on mine even as my soft, pliable flesh spills between his thick fingers.

  “Respect me and I’ll keep you fed and safe.” He licks my nipple, dragging the pink flat of his tongue over my hardened peak, making me shiver. “And well-fucked.”

  I part my lips as he squeezes me tight and presses his mouth to my chest, not letting a sliver of skin go unkissed.

  “We barely know each other. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “I know more about you than any woman I’ve been with…so, no. It doesn’t bother me.” Creed lowers his body to press his hard stomach against mine. “I wanted you the second I saw you in that sexy, honey-colored dress.”

  “Outside the convenience store?”

  He smiles. “I looked up as you walked by. You were the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. Judge told me you were beautiful, but seeing you with my own eyes…” He slips his tongue out to moisten his lower lip. “I knew you were the mayor’s daughter, that I could never have you, so I never considered the possibility. Until you asked me to take you with me that night in your room.”

  I nod. I remember feeling lost and alone. Dad wanted things for me I didn’t want for myself; Pierce was adamant about discussing plans for our future, his dream wedding, his dream house, and me bearing five children I didn’t want. To top it off, Chelsea, who I’d been joined at the hip to since kindergarten, revealed her plans to move to the city when she finished her studies. I felt like I was drowning, then Creed waltzed into my room, a breath of fresh air, his presence like popping candy in my blood, and he tore a hole in my schedule, in my mind-numbing routine.

  “Do you still want that?” he asks, and I frown.

  I think about the pain in my thighs, feet, and lungs as a result of all the running and screaming. In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve been shot at, chased, attacked, and driven on the back of an old dirt bike at ridiculous speeds. I want Creed, and I want to be a part of his world but…

  “I’m not cut out for it,” I admit, and the disappointment I feel comes through in my tone. “The parties, the fighting, the violence. I’m not like Amani; I can’t defend myself.”

  Creed takes my face in his hands and stares into my eyes, into my soul. “If I do my job right, you won’t have to.”

  “And what about people?”

  “What people?”

  “The town’s people. We can never go out because they’ll stare and gossip. They’ll tear my father’s legacy to shreds.”

  “I don’t give a shit what happens to Jonathan or his legacy, but I promise you, no one will look twice in your direction in fear of seeing my shadow.”

  He’ll protect me so fiercely? The daughter of the man who wants nothing more than to see him and his club behind bars? I’d be skeptical if there wasn’t such a needy gleam in his eyes. Logically, I should chalk our connection up to lust, not affection, but…every cell in my being screams there’s more to our relationship than rebellion or the forbidden. There’s a mutual fondness I believe has every chance of growing into love. Even if it doesn’t, I don’t think I’d regret time spent with James Creed.

  I touch his broad shoulders then glide my hands up his neck to his soft, clean hair. I haven’t wanted anything as much as I want this man. Swallowing, I lift my head off the mattress and kiss his lips. He groans and kisses me back with vigor, and my body floods with heat hot enough to rival the sun. My limbs tremble with fear, knowing I’m way out of my depth with a man like him. He’s nothing like the boys I grew up with or like Pierce who, in this instance, I akin to a skinny match that offered the tiniest flicker of heat that faded quickly. Creed is a sun, scorching, unyielding, and mesmerizing. Nothing in this world can extinguish the heat he ignites in my blood.

  Creed takes charge, trailing kisses from my lips to my jaw, to my neck, then to my collarbone. I close my eyes and drop my head against the mattress as he continues his descent, kissing and licking me as if I’m a melting ice cream he doesn’t want to waste.

  He moves quickly, skillfully, removing my panties without pause in his routine, and it’s impressive. My breath hitches as he kisses the inside of my thighs, drawing nearer to their apex. Of their own accord, my muscles clench and shiver w
ith every brush of his rough beard.

  “Tell me you’ve thought about this as much as I have?” he asks, his warm breath hitting my center.

  I keep my eyes closed, afraid I’ll open them and this’ll all be a dream.

  “I have,” I say on exhale, gently flexing my hips.

  Heat swirls in my cheeks, and I open my eyes and lift my head to peer at him, at his full lips, as he moistens them an inch from my most intimate part.

  “I’ve never done this in daylight before…” I confess, suddenly nervous about all my insecurities—the extra softness around my backside, hips, and stomach and the shiny stretch marks on my hips and breasts.

  “No?” He flicks his hungry gaze over my body, and I shift uncomfortably. “Such a waste. You’re perfect, you know?”

  Creed rakes his grateful, lust-filled stare over me again, not settling on areas I think are gross or unflattering, not for a second, and I believe him. I believe he thinks I’m perfect, imperfections and all.

  I smile at him, and he lowers his head, kissing the crease between my thigh and my pelvis, forcing my breath to hitch. Then he floats his mouth across my opening, his warm breath blowing against me. I tense, nervously awaiting his smooth, wet tongue to touch me, to lick me and make me feel good. A small eternity later, he presses his mouth against me, pushing his tongue through my creases, immediately finding my clit. I gasp and lift onto my elbows to get a better look at what he’s doing to me. Our gazes lock, and Creed groans heartily, sending powerful bolts of pleasure through my belly and a tingling over my scalp.

  “Oh,” I moan, letting my head loll back as I arch against his mouth. “Yes.”

  “Damn. You taste good, baby.”

  He licks and sucks me harder, dancing his fingers against my thigh before pressing a single, thick digit to my opening. With a gentle push, he penetrates me, and the skin behind my ears pull tight, shooting fireworks down the back of my neck to sparkle in my chest, hardening my nipples to their maximum point. He licks me up and down, a delightful pace between fast and slow. The pulse he stirs between my legs throbs mercilessly, and warmth floods me as I grow wetter and wetter, allowing him to insert a second finger. Groaning, I shift my hips to get away from the pleasure he’s giving, away from the unbearable sensations that build quicker than ever before.

  He pulls his mouth from me and bites the inside of my thigh.

  “Ouch!” I squeal and swat at him. Ass.

  “Where’re you going?”

  Where am I going? I don’t know. Away from his sinfully good tongue and fingers, before I let them brand me forever. “James…”

  Smirking, he plants a heavy hand on my clenched stomach, holding me immobile against the king mattress while he tortures me with his skillful tongue again. He moves his fingers inside me, massaging, making my breasts sway back and forth. Following last night, it doesn’t take long for Creed to build up my pleasure and dangle me over the precipice of ecstasy. He holds me there, teasing and taunting, until I’m gripping his hair and grinding my hips, seeking more pressure, more friction. Something wicked flashes in the depths of his eyes, and he lifts his hand from my stomach to grip me behind my knee and push it toward my chest. Jesus. He catches my clit between his lips and tugs on it. I gasp and jolt at the foreign pleasure that explodes from his rough treatment, feeling the tingling build. Creed releases my clit and does it again, and again, until every muscle in my body coils so tight it burns. I crunch my body, my breath coming out in uneven gasps as my orgasm crests, then explodes, spreading through my pelvis, through my stomach, and down to my feet.

  “Ah,” I moan, and grip Creed’s wrist in one hand and cover my mouth with the other. “Shit.”

  I try to muffle the noises I make, all while Creed makes a show of what he’s doing, pulling back enough to show me the length of his tongue and the tip of it as he flicks it over my sensitive bundle of nerves while plunging his fingers in and out of me. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen—he’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  My legs spasm together, my toes curling painfully until I can’t stand it. I throw my head back with a growl and push against Creed’s head, silently begging for him to release my throbbing bundle of nerves. Laughing under his breath, he releases me, and as if being released from a spell, my muscles unclench, leaving me a boneless mess. I turn my head and drape my hand against my chest, feeling my heart as it batters my ribs. Creed rises up and crawls over me, planting one hand beside my head to hold himself up. The other, he slides against the side of my face, turning my head with his palm to look me in the eyes. I blow out a sigh then wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down on me. His hard body hits mine and presses me into the mattress. He’s heavy, so heavy my lungs can’t expand the whole way as I try to breathe in his fresh, soapy scent. I don’t mind it. It makes me feel secure and protected.

  “Take off your pants,” I demand, licking his lower lip, shivering at the feel of his denim jeans rubbing the inside of my bare thighs. “I want you. I want you to give it to me.”

  Creed rears back, and I follow his giant hands with my hooded gaze as he unbuckles his belt. I’m way out of my depth here with him, and I know better than to jump into sex with this gorgeous man, but I’ve never felt desire so strong before. My body is ready for him. I need to have James Creed once and for all.

  He drags the zipper of his dark jeans down, the metal slider clicking against the teeth, building anticipation in my gut, and lets out a sigh of relief as he pushes his jeans down, letting his erection go free. I lick my lower lip as he palms himself, stroking his hand up and down his length before leaning over me. Creed envelops my nipple in his hot mouth and caresses the inside of my thigh, tickling me, forcing me to open my legs wider. He lowers his hips as I lift mine and pulls at one of my knees, opening me up so the tip of his cock presses against my entrance.

  “Are you going to hurt me?” I whisper, the women from those photos flashing to my mind.

  James lifts his head, hovering it over my face. He turned the women’s skin red; he ruined their mascara and made their hair a tangled mess. I’ve never been treated in such a rough way.

  “You’re not them,” he says then shoves into me without ceremony, burying himself completely and making me shout. “But yes, I’m gonna hurt you.” He pulls back and thrusts again, grunting as he forces his entire length inside and holds still. “Because I know how much you like it.”

  My lips part with a shaky breath, and I feel myself begin to leak around him, a result of his passionate assault. Our gazes meet, his no longer a blazing gold, but a midnight black—an enthralling, arousing, and terrifying midnight black. It sends fire burning through my veins. I’ve been lusted over by many men, but the way James looks at me is incomparable.

  “I do like it,” I tell him, taking his wrist and moving his hand to my throat. “I like it when you’re rough with me. No one is ever rough with me.”

  Creed tightens his grip. “Because you’re Exeter’s sweetheart.”

  “Not anymore.”

  He smirks, tilting his head as he cranes it. “Not anymore,” he repeats, squeezing my throat until my eyes water. “You’re my woman now. My naughty girl.”

  “Yours,” I squeeze out.

  He kisses me hard, filling my mouth with his tongue, then he pulls back and watches my face as he slams his hips into mine, filling me to capacity. I wince and open my mouth, but no sound comes out as he squeezes my throat in his giant hand. The fact he can crush my windpipe in an instant isn’t lost on me. In fact, it turns me on more.

  “Too much?” he asks, smirking.

  I try to tell him it is too much, and I like it, but his hold is too tight, restricting my voice. I swear I feel my pupils flare, and it resonates with him as his smirk morphs into a grin.

  He slams me over and over again, and my head reels. I can’t breathe. Can’t move. I’ve never felt so dominated in my life, like I’m nothing but an easy screw. Creed releases my throat, and I gasp for air, wrappin
g my legs around him, pulling him deeper, wanting him deeper.

  “More,” I whisper, breaking the kiss to move my face into the crook of his neck.

  “More?” he groans, nipping my ear between his teeth, and all I can do is nod. “So greedy,” he teases. “What am I going to do with you, huh?”

  Creed slides a large hand under my ass and angles my hips. My core twists as he fucks with increased speed and aggression, and each thrust sends powerful surges through me. I feel alive.

  Alive and blissful.

  Low moans seep from my lips, moans I’ve never heard before, and as heat pools in my lower belly, Creed pulls out and away from me. I barely have time to voice my complaint before he’s behind me, his body pressed against mine, his hand under my knee, lifting my thigh. He slams into me, and I cry out, the sweet pain of him pushing inside me radiating through my body, rippling through my muscles like a stone dropped in water.

  Creed thrusts harder, and sounds of flesh slapping flesh dominates the room. I pull my knees higher and curve my back, wanting more. He releases my leg and grabs my throat, pulling me back against him, his forearm between my breasts. My breathing shakes.

  “Against me,” he pants, kissing me behind the ear as I reach behind me, pressing my hand to his hip, feeling his powerful thrusts as he hits me over and over. “I want you against me.”

  My pussy clenches around his cock, loving everything he gives me, every inch, every thrust. His name falls as a whisper from my lips, and he glides his hand from my neck to my cheek and turns my head. The muscles in my neck ache on the unnatural angle, but it doesn’t deter me from pressing my mouth to his. I kiss him, long and slow, and his thrusting follows suit, turning from powerful thrusts to passionate, deep strokes. As I kiss him, he trails his fingers down my stomach and between my legs to rub my clit. In seconds, I get close, my whole body gearing up to burst, and I’m unable to control my hips that swivel of their own accord.