Romy gasped as Molly’s finger twirled right inside her opening. Smiling up at her, Molly rasped, “Promise me.”
Swallowing, Romy pressed her palm against the top of Molly’s head. At that moment, nothing would stop her from enjoying such illicit pleasures. Even Laurel had dropped her weapon once again. She paced the small area in front of the bay window, pretending to ignore them, but obviously disgusted by the turn of events.
She could turn her back to them for all Romy cared. Mama and the others were wrong about Molly. The entire club had pre-judged her without cause. She’d misjudged her, too.
Molly swiped her tongue over her pussy lips. “I want these swollen lips on mine when you learn the truth.”
“What truth?” The question fell out in exasperation. She pushed down on Molly’s head, wanting to drive her closer, longing for her in a way that was purely sexual. The woman within refused to think about what Molly was trying to tell her. She didn’t give a damn about the blasted truth then. All she wanted, all she needed, was something exquisite and sweet, a loving stroke from a willing tongue, a lover willing to cool that intimate burn, the indescribable yearning she’d possessed since arriving at Safe Mountain.
She wanted to mash her sex against Molly’s greedy mouth and lose just a small portion of her innocence. At the same time, she remembered her place. She held fast to her position beside one of the most powerful men in the world.
“You are a pretty young thing.” Molly fingered her clit, opening and closing her mouth as if to mimic Romy’s reactions, too.
“Give me the truth.” Strangled words tumbled from her mouth.
Molly’s lips locked around Romy’s clit. She cried out as a multitude of pleasure scattered a billion little sensations throughout her body. Molly paused, glanced at Romy, and with a wicked smile pasted to her mouth, continued still lower.
This time, she thrust her tongue inside Romy’s pussy and with swirling motions, she drove her to the brink of her very first lover-inspired orgasm.
“Oh God!” Romy lost her balance
“I thought you knew.” Molly caught her hips and looked up at her with a confused expression. “But you don’t. Do you?”
“What?” It took an excessive amount of effort for Romy to force the one word past her lips.
“I went to town to tell the Senator about Safe Mountain.”
Laurel came to an abrupt stop behind them. She dragged her hand nervously through her hair and while Romy was aware of her actions, she wasn’t exactly focused on Laurel then. She was in tune now with the deceptive force kneeling before her, the woman who had just about driven her to orgasm with one swipe of a silken tongue.
“Did you see the Senator?” Romy’s vision blurred. The acts unfolding were unfathomable and yet there she was in the middle of an explicit scene while all hell could’ve been breaking loose right outside the clubhouse’s doors.
“No.”
Romy didn’t believe her.
“You still didn’t answer me. Why’d you come back here?”
“I came here for you, sweetie,” Molly admitted, dragging her fingers through her slit once more.
This time, Romy didn’t moan. She didn’t cry out or even pay attention to the fiery chemistry so evident between them.
All she saw was pure evil. And she understood then what she had to do.
Jerking Molly’s head back, she yelled, “Tell me why you came back here!”
“Don’t you see,” Molly whispered, her eyes flooding with tears that would never fall.
“None of them understand. None of them know the true reason we’re all here, Romy. We’re the condemned. We’re the damned.”
Romy’s hand shook. She realized then what she needed to do. She understood what the club would expect. And she realized then that Mama could never live with herself if she took another person’s life.
“You came here to kill Chuck.” She swallowed back the bile rising in her throat. “You came back to kill my mate.”
Molly’s nostrils flared and her lips curved in a smile. “I came back to save the condemned.”
“Then you returned with the wrong attitude,” Romy said, taking Molly’s head in her hands. Then, without giving it a second thought, she jerked her wrists and snapped Molly’s neck, watching as the life of another quickly diminished.
Headlights flooded the room as the bikes returned to Safe Mountain. Laurel rushed her, peeling her hands and fingers away from Molly’s dead form. The crackling of a vroom, vroom racket resounded just outside the window as the bikes rolled over gravel-covered terrain.
Assuming her role as Mama, Laurel quickly helped Romy reassemble her clothing.
Aware of her surroundings but so desperate to put the past behind her, Romy stared down at Molly one last time before stepping around her. “Ask Brice to get this mess cleaned up before Chuck comes in and sees her like this.”
“Romy—”
She held up her hand. “I’m all right Laurel. It had to be done.”
“Yes.”
She forced a smile, if for no other reason, than to persevere in front of the MC’s sheep.
As the club president’s old lady, Romy needed Mama’s respect. Maybe after this incident, she’d earned it.
“We’re the chosen, Mama. We aren’t the damned. We aren’t the condemned. We’re the chosen.”
Laurel nodded once. Romy nodded back. Then, Romy hurried to the cellar, to her original bedroom. Once there, she grabbed hold of her quilt and shoved the thick material in her mouth, determined to mute her cries and muffle her harrowing screams.
Chapter Nine
“Where is she?” Chuck didn’t acknowledge the body on the floor. There wasn’t time. He had sensed Romy’s angst as they were riding back to the mountain. Now, he felt her heartache, owned it as his own.
“You can’t help her with this,” Laurel said.
“Where is she?” He slammed his fist against the wall, aware of the structure closing around his fist, the sheetrock and insulation biting at his flesh.
Brice was behind him then and so were the others. “Man, maybe she needs some time.
Leaving holes in the walls won’t solve anything. Give her some time. This went down just a few minutes—”
Chuck pushed by him. Taking long strides, he followed his intuition, aware then more than before, that he was a mated wolf as much as a committed man.
He rushed the end of the hall, took a sharp left and hurried down fourteen steps, counting each one until he reached the bottom. Taking another short flight of stairs, he took a left and then another right, entering the heart of the dungeon.
Stopping abruptly, he’d just started to turn and return upstairs when she said, “How’d you know I was down here?”
His heart slammed against his chest, knocking out one rhythmic beat after another. His erection throbbed. His eyes searched.
He needed her. God help him. He needed to hold her close, not as mates promised to one another, but as mates with the most loving of intentions.
Romy stepped out of the darkness like a haunted goddess. Wearing a white, transparent gown, she looked like beauty in motion, flowing gracefully into her steps as if she had no particular interest in rushing into his arms.
He, on the other hand, longed to have her run to him. He wanted her to throw herself into his embrace, shower him with kisses, and begin with a series of heart-warming promises.
“I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” she said, keeping her distance.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly.”
“You kill someone and you don’t want to discuss it?” He could see where this might be a problem back in the old world but here it could definitely be an advantage. If his woman wasn’t afraid to defend herself and the other women there, he could rely on her whenever he and the others were summoned for a collection ride.
“She came back here for you.”
He felt his lips twitch.
“But of course she did.”
Romy approached him then. Clearly angry, she balled her fists. “That’s not what I meant.”
Loving that spark, that added flare of tempting heat, he clutched her waist and drew her against him. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“She was here to kill you.”
“I could’ve handled this when I returned.”
“You would’ve killed a woman?”
He would’ve hated to kill a woman, but yes, he could’ve done it without blinking an eye.
He had his doubts if Romy blinked given the fact he was only gone from the mountain for about an hour. “If Molly or anyone else for that matter had threatened to harm you, yes I could’ve put her down like a rabid dog.”
“She wasn’t an animal, Chuck. She was a human being.”
He shrugged, trying to think of the best way to ease her mind. “She was a predator.”
Romy shivered. Her teeth clattered. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “So I was what…her prey?”
“Why do I get the feeling this is one of those ‘does this dress make me look fat’ kinds of questions?”
“Does it?”
To his surprise, Romy twirled in her nightdress. As she turned around and around, she moved closer to the lit candelabras. Her hair, the color of chestnuts, shimmered like it had an added touch of gold. The dim lighting only accentuated her soft features. She wasn’t just pretty, she was incredibly beautiful.
His throbbing cock stretched, reached for her. “What was the question again?”
“Was I her prey?” Her tone was serious, hard, but her eyes were as soft and liquid as pure sweet honey.
“You were a means to an end.”
“What are you saying?”
Chuck took a deep breath. Trying to still the dominant beast within when he was in the middle of an exquisite dungeon, a room filled with explicit adult toys, made for complications.
“Chuck?”
Jerking when she said his name, he bracketed his arm around her waist and drew her against him. “Does it matter?” His nostrils flared with the light smell of sex. He released her immediately, aware of the betrayal, of the way she’d fooled around with another, a woman who was undoubtedly dead, but the logistics in the aftermath of betrayal didn’t matter. “You fucked her.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I didn’t.”
Before he could quiet the wolf inside, Chuck’s incisors jabbed through his gums. He managed to keep them from falling below his bottom lip but the angry wolf was dying to show his face.
Realizing it wouldn’t take much for his temper to get the best of him, he stalked the wall of props. He selected his passion and chose a flogger instead of a riding crop, a flogger with bulb-shaped leather loops on the end of eight flaps.
Going to her then, he didn’t pay attention to the scents filling his head with all sorts of crazy notions. He couldn’t focus on the strong vanilla aroma that he knew was a combination of Romy’s pureness and Molly’s expensive perfume. He couldn’t think of where her lips had been, where her fingers might have wandered.
His mate had been touched. She’d been violated whether she realized it or not.
“Did she hurt you?” He wasn’t sure he could handle the truth. He swallowed. “Did you put yourself at risk for me?”
“No.”
“What happened?” He deliberately led her to a spanking bench, certain he would see her bound and restrained there, regardless of her answer.
“Laurel was going to kill her.”
“So what…you fucked her as sort of a pre-killing erotic festival?” Laurel was going to kill Molly and didn’t? Now, thanks to Laurel, his mate had blood on her hands. Even worse, his mate had the stench of sex on her flesh. Laurel had been too weak to save his mate. Too weak?
No. He’d never believe that. Laurel had let Romy Nichole sacrifice herself because she’d indulged in the acts unfolding before her. “Did Laurel watch?”
“I…”
“Did. She. Watch?”
Romy pulled free of his grip. She glared at him as if she wanted him to know she was far angrier with him than he could possibly be with her. “I don’t know if she watched, but I doubt it.
If you want to blame what happened here on someone, then you blame yourself. You’re the one who left me behind. You’re the one who didn’t want me to ride. So while you’re shaking that condescending proverbial finger at someone, do me a damned favor and crook it back at yourself.” She paused, took a deep breath and continued, “Because you’re as much to blame for leaving me behind as I am to blame for spreading my legs and wanting to feel a tongue fluttering inside me!”
A subtle groan fell from his lips. He grabbed hold of her then, tempted to kiss her, desperate to taste some of that rage for himself. Instead, he latched onto her high lace collar and with one sudden jerk, stripped her dress from her body and was nearly awestruck for the first time in his thirty-two years.
“You’re fucking insane.” She shivered, but she didn’t try to hide from him. Instead, she held her shoulders back, her head high.
“Not yet, but I have a strange feeling you’re about to drive me out of my blasted damned mind.”
Chapter Ten
Romy had always suspected it would be like this with her mate. Maybe she hadn’t known what he’d look like or who he’d be, but from the moment Laurel and Brittany had begun to school her on the possibilities of mating with one of the guys, she’d known her chosen one would be hot as hell and equally attracted to her.
It hadn’t helped that she’d spent her days down here in the cellar. She’d imagined herself in every possible scenario, in most every possible position.
With one exception—this one.
She muttered against the latex ball gag and looked up at Chuck. She wasn’t sure what she’d said or done to anger him, but she’d undoubtedly done a splendid job of pissing him off.
“What’s that?” He cocked his head and bent his ear. “I can’t hear you.”
She tried to scream, but given the contraption, the effort was pointless. She closed her eyes and left them closed even when he demanded she open them.
When all efforts failed, he unhooked the headgear and gently pulled free the ball and bit.
“Want to tell me what’s on your mind. Do you?”
“You didn’t give me a safe word.”
“Considering it’s very difficult to use one of those at the moment, I had planned to give you a hand signal.”
“I still want a safe word.” She was standing her ground there. “Dominant men understand the importance of a safe word.”
“Yes, they do and submissive women understand the importance of being respectful of their Doms and their dominant partner’s wishes.”
“It’s dickhead.” She smiled and waited. When he didn’t push the ball gag back in her mouth, she did it for him and smirked at him in a ‘take-that’ fashion.
As soon as he snapped out of his shocked state, Chuck affixed the bit to the headgear used to hold the ball in place. He then whispered at her ear, “Dickhead works for me, darlin’ because I have every confidence in the world that you’ll never want or need to use it.”
He reconnected with the flogger he’d flipped around like a constant reminder. Brushing the flaps over her hips, he dragged the firm bulb-shapes down her buttocks and thighs. When he reached her calves, he smacked the back of her legs and seemed to take pleasure in the way she whimpered.
She tried to convince herself it was the shock of the snap against her skin, but somewhere deep inside her, she was certain—this training session was definitely about punishment. The knowledge made her pussy clench with awareness.
Without a doubt, Chuck wanted her to know he would take extreme measures, calculated steps to insure she wouldn’t stray. Another thwack came down on her legs. This time, the smack was higher, right under the curve of her bottom.
Another hard swat landed at her lower cheeks. Then, he patted h
er, caressed her tenderly until she not only sighed in relief, but also relished in the attention.
His tender loving care made her channel hot and wet. She wanted to know the feel of his strong fingers impaling her, stroking her, but she had a feeling the punishment ahead wouldn’t end with a few slaps to her bottom.
Oh no, Chuck had a reputation with the ladies. And she wasn’t just any lady. She was his fated lover.
He would expect more from his partner. He would demand more from his woman. Chuck Hayes, one of the club’s most powerful and dominant men, would require much more from his submissive mate.
Chapter Eleven
“Even virgins have their limits.” Her words tumbled from parched lips as soon as he removed the ball gag.
“Do they?” He offered her a drink of water and what he hoped was a warm, rather than a sadistic-looking, smile.
“How long do you think I can keep this up?”
“Until you use your safe word.”
“Consider it used. I can’t stand another flogging. My ass will be blood red.”
“And I’m the only one who will see that pretty little ass.” He was as hard as a rocket just thinking about said ass. He walked his fingers down her back and patted her bottom. That only made his male situation more uncomfortable.
He pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her.
“You’re not going to release me?”
“I like that position.”
She lifted her chest away from the bench and gave him a glimpse of those voluptuous breasts. So maybe this wasn’t his all-time favorite position. He glanced at her ass once more.
Then again, there was a lot to be said for a woman with an apple-shaped bottom.
His cock danced in his breeches again.
He knew how to change things up. Even though he wasn’t sure what kind of response he’d get, there were a few things he had to ask, a few questions he wanted answered. “What happened with Molly?”
“That bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“Damn right.”
“Why?”
Address me as Sir.” He rose from his seat and studied the rack on the wall. A long, wooden paddle called out to him like a lover’s song.
Condemned and Chosen (Sins of Wolves: The Safe Mountain Series) Page 5