A bite on his lower lip snapped his attention to her.
“Eyes on me,” she ordered. Drops of blood dotted his bottom lip, and his vision blurred with lust.
Grinning through the pain and oozing blood, he said, “You gonna hurt me, little girl?”
“Punishment for what you put me through,” she justified smugly.
“Do your worst,” he growled as she slammed down hard on him. Fuck! The pain of his lip mingled with the buzz swarming his body. She’d barely begun, but his body was primed for her after so many days apart. His balls already drawn up in anticipation of spilling. “Ride me,” he commanded hoarsely.
She didn’t need to be told twice. Holding on to the back of the couch, she took him inside her tight clutch again and again. Breathing harshly, she rode him for gold. This other side of Ava was a shocker. She was by no means a slouch in bed, but he usually took the initiative and dominated her. To witness her taking her fill, taking him, greedy and demanding, was like a hit of cocaine. He was so damn controlling that it’d never occurred to him to give her the reins, but holy fuck, he’d been the fool. She had a wicked fire burning in her. It’d been muzzled by the self-restraint she’d imposed on herself over the years. Watching as she slammed down on his wet cock, he’d found himself a wild thing. She bit and nipped wherever her teeth landed. Her nails raking down his chest, leaving a trail of angry red marks. As if in a delirium, she took and took, lifting and dropping on his cock relentlessly.
Yanking his hair, she dragged his head back. Pausing halfway down his shaft, she panted against his lips. Her open mouth slid down his throat and latched on. His hips punched up to get back into her tight heat, but she shook her head. “Nuh-uh. This is my rodeo, bronco.”
To show off her control, she moved down with excruciating slowness, a pace meant only to torture him. He bared his teeth and clenched his fists at his sides to keep from taking her by the nape and going dominant on her. She was right. This was her ride, and he was going to honor it if it killed him.
“Babe, I’ll be your bronco any fucking day.”
She shuddered above him and then dropped the rest of the way until he was buried to the hilt. Breathless, she dropped her forehead on his shoulder. Moving her hair aside, he licked up the side of her throat and murmured in her ear, “When we fuck like this, it’s like a sacred space where our souls join.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, flickered open, and then she popped back up. His words lit a fire; she quickened her pace, fucking him raw. Angling his hips, he thrust up to meet her, hitting her in her most vulnerable spot. A gasp slipped past her lips, immediately followed by a moan. Aww, hell, her walls clenched down on his shaft like a vise. Writhing her hips, she screamed out his name. Clutching her waist, he lifted her and rammed her down on his cock. “Motherf—”
His brain short-circuited.
Ripping her off him, he placed her on her knees. Her hands seized the back of the couch, and he mounted her from behind. His hand slid around to her front, clasped her throat, and squeezed. She was so wet that the sloppy, smacking sounds of their flesh and of his balls slapping against her pussy resonated throughout the room. His fingers on her throat triggered a second orgasm and this time, her cunt milking him was too much.
Releasing his grip, his palms smacked down beside her own, and he emptied himself. Swear to Christ, he had so much come built up from the weeks of deprivation, that he would’ve given her a baby if she wasn’t on contraception. Hell, with the furious intensity of their fucking, he wouldn’t be surprised if she got pregnant anyway.
Bowed over her, his chest fell against her slick back. Ava went limp and slumped forward. It took some time before he had enough control over his muscles to move. She let out a small whine when he withdrew. Wrapping his arms around her, he dragged her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.
Gazing down at her, he promised, “You won’t regret giving me another chance.”
“Make sure I don’t,” she mumbled into his chest.
“Never again,” he vowed. Laying on the bed beside her, he dragged her until she was lying on top of him. Throwing the covers over her, he settled in and let out his first content sigh in weeks. One hand behind his head, the other cupping her ass, he let Ava pepper his chest with light kisses.
“You know I’m gonna have to hurt him, right?”
She settled her chin on top of her folded hands. Expression calm, she conceded, “Yes, I know.”
“You’re not gonna give me grief like Abby gave Loki, are you? Letting your social worker side kick in like it did for her?”
Her gaze wandered away from his as she considered his question. He was so damn greedy for her that he shifted uneasily under the absence of her gaze. Thankfully, it returned to him.
“We’re both social workers, but we work with different populations. Abby’s focused on helping survivors of violence, mostly domestic violence, which is the worst kind. It’s so intimate that the betrayal goes much deeper. Some of the people I work with are perpetrators. Violence is in the air you breathe in jail; it’s a part of life. I also grew up around bikers. They may not be like the Squad, but they share the same values, so, no, I won’t give you any grief. I got chills when he admitted to following me. It gave me a creepy feeling, and I didn’t like that.”
His lips twitched. “So you think violence is the answer?”
“Certainly not,” she huffed. “He needs to see a psychiatrist or therapist, not get beaten up, but the reality is that he went after the Squad. He took the law into his own hands. I definitely think you should catch him and turn him over to the police.”
Puck grunted. “Assuming we can connect him to the crime, a CO’s gonna have to do worse than bust up a bar to get real time. If we went the legal route, it would close the window of opportunity we have to make him pay.”
“Do you think he’s connected to Kingpin somehow?”
“Good question,” he replied with a frown. The thought had definitely crossed his mind. They’d find out for sure when they caught Dipshit and questioned him. “He could be out there now, for all we know. He needs to be neutralized. Come to think of it,” he said and gently moved Ava off him. He returned to the living room, shoved his legs into his jeans and tugged his boots on. Throwing on his jacket, he scanned the area through the blinds for a few minutes. He didn’t see any suspicious activity. Dipshit could be out there, but Puck would take the risk of going to his bike to retrieve his gun. Coming back unharmed, he shucked off his clothes and went back to the bedroom. Placing the firearm carefully on the nightstand, he came back to her side.
“You’re cold,” she protested as he returned her to her spot on his chest.
“You don’t want to warm up your man?” he teased. She grimaced at the last word he uttered. “What?” he demanded, caressing down her spine, ending at her ass. Grabbing one buttock in his hand, he gave it a little swat and tried again. “Talk to me, Ava. We said, ‘no more holding back.’”
“I worry.” The two words slipped out of her mouth. “You’ve worn me down yet again, although this time you managed to leave out the blackmail,” she ended drily. “But…it could happen again.”
“It won’t,” he replied fiercely. Never had anyone doubted him, and to get that from Ava, of all people, felt wrong. “We grow. We learn. I’ve learned, and I’m telling you, I’m not going back to a cold bed instead of lying in here with you every night. It chipped away at my fucking soul. After breaking up with you the first time, I was a mess over my mother, and I didn’t experience the soul-crushing pain of not having you. Man, did I feel it this time around. I get that you have doubts, but I’ll do everything in my power to prove myself. Matter of fact, it’s better if you don’t trust me. Makes me more determined to prove you wrong.”
“Prove it to me now,” she prompted, with a gleam of mischief in her eyes.
“Yeah? I’ll prove it by thrusting my tongue in your pussy until you scream,” he said, turning her onto her back and shimmying
down between her splayed legs.
“Humph, now you’re talking,” she quipped.
And he did just that. If all it took was for him to tongue-fuck her every day, then he’d gotten the break of his life.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Puck hadn’t been in this neighborhood since the last time he bought a baggie from a corner dealer. Eight years had passed, but some things never change. He poked his head around the corner of the building he was hiding behind and watched a disheveled man stumble toward the dealer, handing him cash with his shaking hand. To think there was a time he thought that shit was cool. The door of the decrepit bar across the street swung open, and Jiggins sauntered out. Didn’t even look up from his cell phone to check his surroundings. Dumb fuck.
Puck tucked his freezing hands into his pocket and followed Jiggins a few blocks, stopping and hiding each time Jiggins paused to chat with the various dealers and runners. He was obviously doing his rounds. So damn confident he was in his ’hood that he hadn’t brought a bodyguard with him.
There were a few abandoned, burnt-out shells of buildings ahead. Perfect. Jiggins kicked off the wall of the building he was leaning up against and strolled down the street, whistling a little tune. Puck quickened his pace and, as Jiggins passed one of the empty buildings, took out his switchblade, clicked it open, and ran up to the kid from behind.
Arm around his chest and sharp metal at the base of his throat, Puck growled, “Don’t say a fuckin’ word, or I will gut you like a hog.”
Jiggins gurgled against his knife, pressing his Adam’s apple against the gleaming blade. Puck dragged him over the toppled walls of the half-standing building, across debris and rubble, to the back of the burnt-out building. Throwing him down on the littered ground, he straddled Jiggins, knife back on his throat.
“What the—” Jiggins’s eyes bulged out. “Puck? The fuck you doin’, man?”
“Don’t fuckin’ act like we’re friends when you trashed my place.”
“What? I didn’t do shit!” he yelled.
But Puck had caught the flicker of his eyelids and the telltale twitch below his left eye. Liar. He didn’t have time for this shit.
“Motherfucker, don’t waste my time. Tell me who else besides you trashed my bar. Tell me that CO Cotman was in on it. Fuckin’ dare lie to me, and I’ll slit your throat and leave you to bleed to death.”
“Relax, relax, Puck,” Jiggins cooed. “I’ll tell you whatever you want.”
Puck’s gaze flittered around the building, but there was no one around. Pressing the blade closer until his skin was seconds from getting cut, he snapped, “I fuckin’ know you will. Spill already. Figured Kingpin blames me for the bust-up in jail, but what the fuck does Cotman have to do with anything?”
“Cotman works for us, yo. He’s got a hard-on for that little social-worker chick you’re bangin’. Got his panties in a twist about her.”
“This has nothing to do with her.”
“It does for him. He’s transferring to Green Haven to prep for Kingpin’s move once he’s convicted. Gonna test the waters. See what other COs might be into makin’ some side cash.” Jiggins swallowed around the blade glinting in the beams of light pouring down on them from the gaps in the crumbling roof. His eyes glided to the side and then snapped back to Puck. The fucker was holding out on him.
“What does he want with her?” Puck couldn’t say Ava’s name out loud to this dirty asshole.
“The fuck do I know.”
“What else is there? You’re holding out on me, Jiggins. I worked side by side with you for weeks. Lived, ate, and slept by you. Tell me fuckin’ everything.”
Jiggins started to struggle. Fuckin’ idiot. Puck pressed his knife until the skin was sliced, blood dripping down the sides of his throat.
“Fuck, man!” he shouted.
“Tell me!” Puck hissed.
“You’ve got the Romanians on your back.”
“The Ro—what?”
“The Romanians. The Lupu Clan make the Russian Bratva look like Mary Poppins, yo. They supply us from the City, and they sent one of their men up here to seek out any intel on the Squad.”
“The one who showed up at my bar. Nikki?”
“Yeah, that’s him. He’s a crazy fuck. Looks clean-cut in his suit, but he’s a nasty, cold-blooded killer.”
Scuffing against the rubble on the ground echoed in the vault of the four standing walls of the building. Puck glanced over his shoulder, not surprised to see Whistle working his way toward them. He’d instructed Whistle to cover him but hang back.
“Took you long enough,” he muttered.
“You good?”
“You might wanna hear this,” Puck suggested. Pulling his knife off Jiggins’s throat, he wiped the blood off on his jeans, closed the blade against his thigh, and pocketed it. Beads of sweat rolled down Jiggins’s temple, but Puck wasn’t worried. Jiggins was more than happy to spill every secret. That was the way of cowards.
Lowering his gun, he said, “Go on. Finish up.”
“I don’t know why the Romanian mafia is all up your asses. Kingpin doesn’t tell me everything, but the mafioso bastard visited Kingpin in jail.” Whistle’s eyes gleamed a brighter blue, and his jaw tightened. “He hasn’t been back. Either he was satisfied with what our men and Cotman did to your bar, or he’ll be back.”
“Cotman was involved in wrecking the bar? You sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure,” he muttered as he pulled himself to a sitting position and used the end of his shirt to clean up his throat.
Puck came to his feet. He gave Whistle a nod. “Guess it’s time to pay Cotman a little visit.”
※※※
Cutter, Kingdom, Whistle, and Puck had waited a long-ass time in the dark shadows in Dipshit’s house by the time they heard the lock on his front door disengage. The instant Dipshit turned on the light switch, his eyes flashed in shock. Dumbass that he was, he tried to escape, but Whistle, who was by the door, pounced on him. They dragged him down the stairs into his soundproof basement, which they’d already prepped for his arrival. Who the fuck had a soundproof basement anyway? God knows what the son of a bitch had done down there already. He was a sick fuck. It was time he was put down like the rabid dog he was.
“Ow!” shouted Whistle and backhanded Dipshit across the face, causing him to tumble down the last few steps. Sprawled on his back, Dipshit howled when Whistle straddled his chest. “You fuckin’ bite me, motherfucker? You wanna see how I bite back? I’ll fuckin’ tear your asshole to shreds.”
“Get off him,” muttered Cutter with a swat to Whistle’s head as he came down the stairs and passed by.
With a grunt, Whistle swung off Dipshit and hauled him to his feet. Towing him to a chair, Whistle shoved him down and secured his hands with rope.
Puck sauntered up to him and crouched until he was eye level with the prick. “Your life as you know it is over, motherfucker. We know you hooked up with Kingpin in Duchess County Jail, and now you have a transfer coming to Green Haven, don’t ya? To supply Kingpin, yeah?”
After his friendly little chat with Jiggins, he had done reconnaissance and caught Dipshit on video with more than one narco in the area.
Dipshit’s face contorted from denial to incredulity to anger.
“You can kiss those future plans goodbye, Dipshit,” drawled Puck.
“You don’t know nothin’,” the man spat out.
Puck rose to his feet and towered over him. “You gonna question what I do or don’t know? There’s one thing I know for sure. You’ve been following my woman around. The fuck is wrong with you? I ain’t gonna let that stand.”
Griping him by the throat, right beneath his chin, he pressed his thumb and forefinger inward. “I should end you for that sin alone.” His fingers cinched tighter. “You don’t follow her.” Tighter. “You don’t look at her.” Tighter still. “You don’t fucking think about her.”
Dipshit was struggling, writhing in his seat, choking fo
r breath as Puck asphyxiated him. Another beat passed before Puck released his hold and stepped back, watching Dipshit gasp for air. Thrusting his head between his thighs, the man hacked and coughed and sucked in oxygen all at the same time.
Puck took a seat opposite him. Examining his nails, he said in a soothing voice, “I want you to know that Ava’s under my protection. Squad protection. This is as personal as it fuckin’ gets. You want to continue breathing, you’re gonna get your sorry ass out of this town.” His eyes flicked up and locked in on Dipshit’s. “Feel me?”
Dipshit’s eyes were bloodshot and bleeding fear. Nodding forcefully, he said, “Yeah, yeah, okay.”
“I mean now, asshole. Today. You pack your shit, and you drive away in that car. Tomorrow you call out sick, quit, do whatever you gotta do. We rule this town. Kingpin’s not gonna back you on this. He’s a bit player compared to us.”
“Okay, sure, whatever you want,” he stammered.
“Good,” said Puck, standing up. “Now. To make sure you don’t go back on your word, we’re gonna do a bit of work on you.”
“No, no, that’s not necessary. I hear you loud and clear.”
Staring him down, Puck nodded his head. Then he shook it. “Nah, I think it is. I think you’ve got to feel the pain of having put my woman in an uncomfortable situation.” Pulling out a pair of steel knuckles from his jacket, he fitted them over his fingers and flexed them. “Let’s get started.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Puck came out of the shower of his house, wrapped a towel around his waist, and grabbed another one to rub his hair dry. He’d stopped by his old place to clean up and destroy the clothes he wore when he beat up Dipshit. There was satisfaction in hurting that asswipe. Gratification and redress for the times he’d shoved Puck in the back when he transported him to and from the housing unit and Ava’s office, but especially for the crime of stalking her.
Puck's Property: A Bad Boy Biker Romance (The Demon Squad MC Book 5) Page 22