Nate (The Chaos Chasers Book 1)

by C. M. Marin

  But instead of moaning as I press myself into his palm, I freeze, my body tensing. “No, Nate.”

  Swiftly, his hand pulls away from between my legs, and ironically, I could cry from the loss. He denies me his mouth as abruptly, his hooded eyes raking over my face like he’s trying to read something on it.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologize. “I just―”

  “We don’t have to do anything,” he cuts me off.

  “It’s not that I don’t want you, because I do. I love it when you touch me. So much. It’s just that I don’t think I’ll be able to have sex with you, or even thank you in some inappropriate way.” I smile, joking my unease off.

  “I wouldn’t ask that from you.”

  “I know,” I urge. “That’s the problem. I’d feel selfish.”

  The laugh that I seem to be the one tearing out of him has me frowning.

  “Baby,” he starts in that seductive drawl only aggravating my horny state. “Not saying my dick won’t hate me later, but do you have any idea what watching your body plead for my hand does to me?” he asks, sliding his hand back between my legs.

  There’s not enough remorse in me to flee away this time. This time, a whimper frees itself and I even get closer, rocking my hips back and forth.

  “Go ahead, rub yourself on my hand.” He finds a way to groan through the whole sentence, arousal coming out of him in strong waves. “You think you’re selfish? So am I, then. Because that’s a fucking beautiful view I’ll enjoy getting off on later, believe me.”

  The image of him jerking off naked on his bed breaks one more brick of the wall standing between us, and my own heated gaze flicks down to the proof of my effect on him.

  The moment my hand sneaks between our bodies and fumbles with his jeans, it’s Nate’s turn to stiff. “Cam, what… No, you don’t…”

  Killing any words he was about to say, another growling sound rumbles deep in his chest and throat as my hand dips into his boxers and takes out what I’ve been wanting to see for more than a day. His cock shoots out with barely any help, proudly going to rest against his defined abs.

  “Jesus.” I swallow hard at the sight of him, almost certain my tone sends a praise on its own.

  The view only has me clenching down there and seeking Nate’s touch with a strengthening frenzy while I enfold his cock in a firm grip. He hisses a sharp breath even before my hand starts moving on him, and when the slow pace I first work him with eventually picks up to match the grinding motions of my hips, the brown of his eyes shifts into a shade I have yet to see so dark.

  A savage movement of his hand that’s probably already drenched with my arousal pushes my panties aside. Like he needs to check out if I’m wet, his fingers run along my lips, parting them to finally find my entrance that he only teases with a light touch.

  Always needing more, I move my ass until I feel his fingertips stretching me. But since my position doesn’t allow them to dive deeper, I push up on my knees a little. Nate still watches me with that primal look as I lower back on his two fingers that easily find their place inside my slick walls.

  For no more than a short second, my eyes flutter close and my hand on him stops its stroking motions. But when I start pushing up and down on his slightly arched fingers, my hand goes back to mimicking the movements almost in sync.

  “Yes, take what you need,” he wheezes through his teeth. “Fuck my fingers.”

  At the very least, I should feel weird for what I’m doing. But I don’t. Not even slightly. This is the most erotic thing I’ve ever done. And to think about it, maybe it’s why I don’t blame myself for doing it. It’s so different from what Colin and I did that I don’t feel like I’m cheating on him.

  But it’s not like there’s in me even small room for thoughts of any kind anyway. The climax creeping up holds the promise of such a force that there’s nothing else for me to do but keep using Nate’s fingers to get me there as fast as possible. The feel of him rock-hard in the crook of my hand, his breathing regularly hitching, and the sight of him surrendering to the pleasure I’m giving him intensify my own delight. And when the expected power of my orgasm crashes into me, I let it whisk me away from the reality for as long as I possibly can. Nate’s feral grunt weaves in my heavenly daze at some point, and I can make out his cock jerking as it’s still trapped into my frozen grip.

  I’m not standing, but even that kneeling position is impossible to maintain when my orgasm fades and my muscles slacken. My limp body collapses on Nate, who is thankfully able to support me despite his own mushy state.

  His fingers still inside me, he nips at a sensitive spot on my neck, earning a whimper that once more escapes my control.

  “Don’t worry,” he rasps out, a grin perceptible in his voice. “If you want more later, I’ll gladly help. In the meantime, if you want me to wash your dress, you’ll have to help me figure out how my washing machine works. Cora, my very nice cleaning woman, is the only one who ever touched the thing.”

  Pulling away from him without unfolding my arms from around his neck, I look down and laugh at the creamy stains scattered on the dark green of my dress.

  “That’s another image I’ll easily get off on later,” he drawls in a sated tone, and I just keep smiling like an idiot.

  It’s a smile I never thought would settle on my face ever again. And I’m not talking about the satisfied one, but the carefree one. Or maybe I’m talking about both. I’m not sure what it is that I’m doing with Nate, and I don’t want to let questions ruin that moment either. Nate doesn’t give me the opportunity to speak anyway. Moving inside me, his fingers stroke a wonderful spot that has my entire body tensing and several moans leaving me.

  “I think we’re going to create more images for me to fantasize about before doing the laundry,” he decides, and I don’t resist.

  Chapter 10

  Nate

  When I grab my buzzing phone to glimpse at Melvin’s name written on the screen, my heart smashes against the walls of my chest as dread courses through me and settles deep in my guts at the same time. It’s an irrational reaction, I’m aware, but worrying about a girl is a sensation so new to me that it’s fucking hard to find a way to fight it. I’m still trying to when I slam the phone to my ear, and what I’m met with only makes me realize the anguished bad feeling that seized me was legitimate.

  “Prez, you need to come here now! I don’t know what in the fucking hell happened, it flared up out of fucking nowhere!” he shouts on the other end of the line, and my body shifts into a useless block of frozen muscles right after I crossed the threshold of my bedroom on my way out.

  Cold sweat damps every inch of my skin. My hand stiffens so forcefully around my phone I’m afraid I’ll crush the thing before I can force Melvin to admit he’s full of shit. Don’t know why he’d lie, but I’m praying for it all the same.

  “What the fuck are you saying!” I bark as I somehow get my body to respond to me again.

  Rushed steps move me straight toward the front door, fucking happy for having come back home to take a shower instead of going to the club. It means I’ll get to Cam’s house a little faster.

  “It’s on fire! Her house! Fuck, I don’t know what happened! It flared up so fast! I tried to get inside, prez, I swear! But the fire’s everywhere! It’s everywhere!”

  “Don’t fucking move,” I command and hang up, unable to listen to more of his panicked explanations.

  It’s on fire.

  As I throw myself on my bike, my mind goes everywhere. On the road ahead as I try to keep myself alive long enough to get to her; on what the fuck happened in the span of that short hour that has passed since I rode away from her street; and on the dread coercing a large lump of sickness to swell in my throat and a heavy weight of terror to press on my chest.

  Minutes later, I shut off my bike and race toward Melvin as I glance at the firefighters gathered at the foot of a ladder set against the façade of Cam’s house. It reaches a window, and I couldn’
t say what room it is, but since Cam never turned the light on in that room last night, I’m pretty positive it’s not her bedroom. Though it doesn’t give me any indications as to where she is and how bad the situation is. What I do know is that thick, black smoke is dancing out almost every window in sight.

  Sirens are screaming through the silent late evening, so Melvin didn’t hear me arrive, nor did the cop standing in front of him. They’re both still unaware of my presence when I, on the other hand, can make out the cop’s words as I approach both men.

  “I’ll need you to follow me now,” he commands.

  With a wary step backward but without shrinking back in front of the blue, Melvin growls, “Fuck that. Not going anywhere with you. I didn’t do shit.”

  “Don’t make a scene, boy. You―”

  “Not your boy, understand?”

  If my skin weren’t burning with an asphyxiating fear, I’d praise the kid for standing up for himself in front of a cop.

  “You―”

  “Where is she? Is she out? Did she get out? Did you see her?”

  Not giving two fucks about cutting the blue off, I ignore him, though my murderous gaze eventually lands on his face when he decides he doesn’t care I wasn’t addressing him and opens his mouth.

  “Look at the house,” he says to me, superiority pouring out of his tone as much as it pours out of his gaze. “If anyone was inside, it’s too late.”

  “Shut the fuck up!” I roar as a furious step moves me toward the motherfucker even though I know his words were perfectly calculated.

  The arrogance packed into the ghost of a smile pulling at his mouth is proof enough. Should have known he’d try to goad me at the first occasion.

  Cops hate our guts. Anytime we happen to run into each other, they give a try at getting a rise out of us. It seems to be instinctive, like every one of them is driven by the dream of jubilating while throwing our asses in jail even if it’s for a couple of hours only. You’d think we spend our days hunting down their puppies to barbecue them at the way they despise us, when really, we just stay fucking clear of them.

  “Prez.”

  Unlike ten minutes ago on the phone, Melvin is calm when he speaks to me, and the hand he places on my chest barely presses. But his voice also comes out in a firm way a prospect would never use talking to his president. Since it’s just what I needed to restrain myself from grabbing the cop by the collar and ending up cuffed on the back seat of his car, I’m not holding it against him.

  Even through the dim light of the street, I can see the cop’s face reddening with anger. He’ll have to suck it up, though, because I’m not here for that shit.

  Before he can give another shot at playing the big bad cop with me, the blazing house behind me is back to be the only thing on my mind. The front door is slightly open, and that’s all my eyes can see. I can’t have a proper look inside from where I stand, so I stride toward it.

  “Hey! Get back! Sir, get back!”

  Whoever this thundering, sharp voice belongs to is most likely shouting his command at me, but they all can go fuck themselves. I need to get to Cam. I need to help her.

  “I said get back!” the man repeats as I’m about to reach my goal, but this time the words hit my ears more loudly as strong hands stop my progression.

  “Let me the fuck go! She’s in there!” I shout even though he obviously doesn’t know who she is.

  Jesus, she’s in there.

  “You can’t get in, prez. Fire’s everywhere in the entryway, look at the smoke coming out.”

  I shoot a glare at Melvin, who is one of the guys battling hard with my own strength to hold me back. The other one must be a firefighter since it wasn’t the stupid fuck of a cop who just told me to move back.

  Melvin doesn’t cower under my scowling stare as he goes on. “I swear I tried,” he says, and I can tell he did as I glimpse at the black spots on his face I only now notice. “There’s too much smoke. Just let them do their job, prez. The cop will cuff you if you don’t calm down, and that won’t help her.”

  I know he’s right, but that knowledge doesn’t tone down the whirlwind of fear stewing right under my skin. My breathing has turned erratic, and my fists itch to plant themselves into anything or anyone.

  Before my temper can shift into full maniac mode, someone roars, “Clear! Get to work, now!”

  Again, no time to process what that other firefighter yelled means, because the one with his hands still on me speaks, “Heard that? No one is in that house. Whoever it belongs to, they weren’t there when the fire started,” he asserts and releases me as my muscles relax with the help of the relief pumping through my veins.

  But the peaceful reprieve doesn’t last.

  “But where the fuck is she, then?”

  I’m not really asking, rather voicing the question to myself, but the firefighter answers anyway before jogging away. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that.”

  Melvin is standing in front of me the next second, and his voice is low when he says, “This isn’t accidental, prez. It flared up too fast. No need to be a professional to know it’s impossible for a fire to spread this fast without some help. I swear there was no sign. No one entered,” he pauses, his gaze gauging me. “At least, no one entered by the front door.”

  My eyes close briefly while I force my legs to keep doing their fucking job and support me. Melvin didn’t voice what he thinks has happened, but the words passed between us in a fucking loud silence.

  “She’s been…”

  The truth I try to voice gets stuck in my throat.

  Quietly, Melvin gets it out for me. “I think they knew she was watched over and did the job discreetly. Don’t know how exactly, but yeah, I think they snatched her.”

  “Fucking hell!” I roar into this fucking night of hell, the hopeless sound echoing against every wall of every house around us.

  Bending over, I set my hands on my thighs to breathe through the rage brewing in my boiling blood.

  “You want me to call the VP?”

  Forcing a deep breath to feed my lungs, I don’t answer that and straighten back up to tear my phone out of my pocket to call Jayce myself.

  As I wait for him to answer, my eyes wander around me. People have gathered on the sidewalk across the street, whispering into each other’s ears. Typical suburban people. At least they keep the local PD busy with their nosy questions.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m at Cam’s. They snatched her, I’m heading to the Spiders,” I fire up the information.

  “Wait, fuck, you sure about that?”

  “Her house is well on its way to burning to the fucking ground, and she’s missing. There’s no time to launch into a fucking brainstorming about every possible scenario. I’m heading there now,” I reiterate as I stride back to my bike.

  “Hey, slow down. You can’t just go there and charge at them, Nate,” he tries to reason with me, not knowing there’s no point.

  “Not asking for your permission.”

  “Fuck, Nate. Okay, we’re on our way―”

  “No, you stay put, I’ll call you,” I tell him, already straddling my bike.

  He snorts. “Not asking for your permission,” he uses my own words and hangs up.

  As my bike rockets on the road, the roar of Melvin’s meets my ear and I know he’s on my heels. That’s a boy we won’t regret patching in. He’s brave and loyal, which will make him one hell of a good member soon.

  We flee south, and as if the turn that this night has taken wasn’t dramatic enough, rain starts to fall over us, pouring straightaway as every drop bashes the asphalt in a deafening clatter growing rapidly. Water flows on the road, but even the slippery surface can’t get me to slow my speed down.

  After ten minutes of a ride even I consider suicidal, I squint to my left where a SUV just appeared. Through the downpour, I only barely discern Ben sitting on the passenger seat, and whoever is driving overtakes me and leads the way until we hit S
piders territory.

  They must have driven like hell to catch up with us. It must be Blane driving, then. I’m sure the guy could maneuver a car through a hurricane like a fucking pro.

  The car comes to an abrupt stop roughly half a mile away from the gate hiding the fuckers’ clubhouse, and I abandon my bike behind it.

  My brothers shout my name, but the impassable black wrought iron is my only goal. My eyes are already studying the thing to figure out how hard crossing it is going to be. Even when gunfire resounds, slamming loudly into every building raised around us, it’s like there’s not enough space in my mind to measure the immediate danger assaulting us, because retreating isn’t my first instinct. I’m the first astounded by my reaction―or lack thereof―the moment I realize Ben has dragged me away and behind the SUV.

  “Fuck, Nate!”

  “I need to get to her!” I snarl.

  I have a gun myself―which I apparently didn’t think it’d be wise to pull out already―, so I can make it. I can get to her.

  They have her. They were waiting for us because they knew we’d come. They have her.

  “We need to move back,” Jayce counters harshly. “It was stupid to come here, dammit. We need to get back to the club and call some back up. The closest charter―”

  “Not leaving her here,” I growl, cutting short his useless constructive thinking. “I know you don’t know her, but―”

  It’s me who don’t get to finish my sentence this time. Crawling on the ground, Jayce is right in my face in the next breath.

  “Think I’m such a heartless bastard? You’re right, I don’t know her. But I know you. And even if you didn’t obviously care about her, you seriously think I’d just sit there and watch a girl being snatched by men who could…”

  The darkest glare I’ve ever sent my best friend’s way has him trailing off. No way I can let myself imagine what they might be doing to her right at this moment. I just can’t.

  “I’ll help you, bro,” he swears, sliding a hand over his drenched hair. “We all will, but this isn’t the way.”

  My voice is gruff when I agree. “I know, but I can’t leave her here and just go back, Jayce. I can’t do that.”