by Jo Raven
Chapter Five
Hawk
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Things aren’t going my way.
My hearing aid has been destroyed. And I just realized I’m not wearing my watch anymore. They took it. I just hope they’re keeping it inside the building. This could make the difference between getting out or getting royally fucked in the ass.
The Boss was supposed to give me something to work with by now, some information, names, anything, but he’s all clammed up as if he suspects something.
And she wasn’t supposed to be here. Putting herself in danger. Listening in as I admit things about myself and lie about others. Seeing me bared, my emotions raw and there for all to see as the Boss broke my hearing aid.
Or said he did. He could be bluffing. I wouldn’t know. The damn blindfold is thick enough that I couldn’t make out anything.
I jerk when hands land on me, but they only untie my wrists, then my ankles, and finally my waist. I half-expect a punch to the face, a kick to the ribs, a parting shot—but nothing happens.
Fucking ow. My hands are burning, the pins and needles turning into cutting pain as the blood returns. Groaning, I reach up to wrench away the goddamn blindfold, because I can’t fucking stand it a second longer, and when I blink through watering eyes, she’s there.
Right in front of me.
Looking mad as all hell.
Looking hot as a hellcat, with her long, reddish-brown hair tumbling over her shoulders, amber eyes flashing, my bracelet, my mark on her wrist. Her full tits are heaving with every breath, her hard nipples denting the soft fabric of the long T-shirt she’s wearing.
All I wanna do is rip it off her and sink inside her, forgetting this mess I got myself into.
Only she starts pacing up and down in front of me, and oh boy, I’m dizzy. So fucking dizzy I think I’m gonna throw up, and I have no clue why. Then I try to get up, only to fall back on my ass.
Fuck.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” she’s muttering, oblivious as she comes to a standstill in front of me, hands on her hips. “Giving in to this guy’s demands. I can get you out of here. I know this place.” She bites her lip, shakes her head. “Can’t believe you turned your parents in for power.”
Oh fuck. “I’m a bad guy, Doll. You should stay away from me. Told you so. In fact, you should hurry the hell up and get your pretty ass out of here right the fuck now.”
“I’m not going anywhere, not before you explain, not…” She narrows her eyes at me. “Hawk?”
“Mm.” I can’t even focus on her tits anymore, let alone her lush mouth or the words coming out of it. Maybe I got hit on the head too many times today already. “What?”
She came back for me.
She keeps coming back.
I want her to stay.
“I said, ‘Are you okay?’” She goes down on her knees and leans toward me. “Hawk.”
I’m definitely not okay, for so many reasons.
Her voice is soft, but her lips are so close to mine I can almost taste the words, taste my name on her sweet breath.
And damn if my dick doesn’t get excited again, the magic cross piercing in the head catching on my briefs, stopping my breath.
Can’t help the way my body reacts to her. She’s tied up in my mind with sex, mindless pleasure. Escape. My dick doesn’t seem to notice or care that I’m in a bind, that there are goons standing guard outside the warehouse, or that I feel like crap warmed over. This girl’s got a body to die for, and my body, that has been beaten to hell and starved for days, shouldn’t get so easily excited at the sight of her. The soft scent of her. The warmth of her.
But there you go.
“Hawk,” she breathes, her lips forming the words, and everything has slowed down. I blink, try to get my grip back on reality.
I hate losing control over myself like that. Over my body. I’m a strong guy. I’ve rarely been sick. Even after the accident with my bike last month, I recovered quickly—the additional damage to my hearing notwithstanding.
“I’m okay,” I croak and attempt again to get up, using the pillar behind me for support.
My knees fold under me, and I sink back down with a grunt. The room is spinning, and bile rises in my throat.
“Take it easy,” she says, her voice coming in echoes.
I am. I’m taking it easy. Yeah, that’s right.
“Here.” She lifts a cup from a tray the thugs left just out of my reach and lifts it to my mouth. “How long have you been here? Didn’t they give you anything to drink?”
I reach for the cup, but my hands are shaking too badly.
She presses the cup into my palm, then cups her smaller hands over mine, guiding the cup to my mouth.
It’s… intimate. Sweet.
Not what I’m used to, not with her. Not with any woman, or anyone, for that matter. I’ve never allowed it.
And I’m so damn thirsty I almost choke on the water. Damn, it feels good, cool and fresh, going down my parched throat, wetting my swollen tongue.
She takes the cup away too soon. Way too soon.
“More.” I reach after it, and she scoots back to refill it.
“Slow down.” She helps me drink one more cup. “You’ll make yourself sick.”
But it’s impossible to slow down, or stop. Like with the way my body reacts to her, the thirst is out of my control.
This time, when she takes the cup away, I let my head loll back against the pillar and concentrate on keeping the water down.
“You’re dehydrated,” she says, then something else I don’t hear as she fusses with the tray.
Goddammit. “Why are you still here? You should leave. Now, before anyone finds you.”
She stills, then resumes gathering up a bowl and a spoon from the tray. “Not before we talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about. You should go.”
“No.” She shoves the tray away, bowl and cup and all, and gets right in my face. “Why are you doing this? Tell me the truth.”
“You heard everything.”
“Yeah, that you want in a shady organization, that you want your parents’ position. You crave more money, more power.” She waves a hand in the air. “I don’t believe you. Don’t believe any of this. You’re playing at something, something dangerous, and won’t tell me about it.”
“It’s for your own damn good,” I whisper, and fuck, did I say that out loud?
She leans in until we’re nose to nose, and fuck she smells good. “I’m not moving from here unless you tell me what’s going on.”
“No fucking way. You need to leave.”
“No.” She pulls away, which sucks, and pours water on a napkin. She puts her hand on my face and starts washing it with the napkin, wiping away the filth and dried blood. “Not unless you tell me more about this Organization you want to join.”
Fuck. This is why I’ve never let her get close. I knew something like this might happen.
I reach for her, manage to snag her arm despite the fact every muscle in my body hurts and my head is spinning. “You don’t wanna know about it, girl. Trust me on this.”
“But I do, I do want to know—”
“Have you heard a single word I’ve said? This is dangerous shit, and it has nothing to do with you.” I take a deep breath and force myself to go on, because fuck, my throat hurts, my head is pounding and the possibility of being sick all over her is still in the cards. “You don’t need to be here. There’s nothing between us. I can take care of myself. Just fucking go.”
There’s hurt in her eyes, there and gone in a flash. Which makes me frown. Fuck, that’s not good. She can’t have any expectations from me.
I tighten my hold on her arm until she winces. “I said go.”
“Fuck you, Hawk.”
“You got a filthy mouth.” And I want it on me, dammit. I jerk her closer to me. “I need you gone. Now.”
“Sucks being you, then. To not get what you want, for a change.”
Because what I want is her. Have wanted her since I first saw her, in so many ways.
I’m crushing my mouth to her warm lips before I even know what I’m doing, and dragging her more firmly on my lap. Ah hell yeah. Her legs part, and she slides on top of my hard-on, warm and just heavy enough to make sparks fly up my spine.
I need more. I need so much more it’s not even fucking funny. My head is spinning, but I can’t stop tasting her, can’t stop grinding her on top of my dick, over the metal bars of my piercing, and it feels so damn good.
She squirms, and it’s even better. She bites on my lower lip, and I shudder, lifting my hand to her hair, grabbing a fistful, dragging her closer.
Hell, normally I last a good while, have the time to make a girl feel good, but today this might end before it even starts, I’m so damn close.
She bites me again, and I tug harder on her hair. She breaks the kiss, scratches her nails down my cheek, and ow, dammit, scratches over bruises really fucking hurt.
“Damn you,” she whispers, her breath washing over my lips, and then she crushes her mouth to mine again.
Oh yeah. I like angry sex.
Make-up sex is also good, but it won’t be happening today. Or ever. Not since I can’t tell her what’s going on. Can’t justify myself.
Can’t fucking leave, not before I get what I came for.
Her taste floods my senses—sweet and heady, warming me up from the inside. I roll my hips up, and she rides me, her breath hitching against my mouth. I know her body. I know what she likes. I know what it feels like when she’s into it.
She’s so into it right now. I can tell from the little strangled noises she’s making in the back of her throat, the way her hand is gripping my shoulder like a lifeline, the easy roll of her body on mine.
Like a wave. She’s like a hot wave rolling over me. Drowning me.
A growl rises in my chest as I push her sideways to the cold floor and press myself between her legs.
“Fuck, Princess. This is nuts.” But I’m dragging her leggings down her long legs, dragging her lacy red panties, too, unable to stop myself. “I’m gonna fuck you hard.”
“God, yes,” she breathes, clawing at my dirty, bloodied shirt. “Off.”
I reach behind my head and pull it off, groaning as abused muscles in my shoulders and back scream at me. What the fuck am I doing—on the dirty floor of a warehouse where I’ve been kept tied up and blindfolded, kicked around and starved, with a girl who thinks I’m the worst bastard of them all.
But maybe… maybe this is good. After this, she won’t stick around. Won’t come near me again.
A shiver of cold goes through me. I’m not that guy. The guy who takes what he wants without a thought for his partner—at work, in pleasure. But I need her out of here, for her own good.
So I lower my zipper one-handed, whip out my heavy dick, and clench my jaw. I’ll be an asshole, complete the image I’m trying to project at her. I’ll go slow. I won’t hurt her.
But neither will I pleasure her.
She wants this. In a moment, she won’t.
She gasps when I push into her without another word, without another touch. I shove my dick into her heat, and fuck, she’s wet and tight, and oh shit. So fucking tight.
I bend over her, trying to catch my breath as she whimpers, my dick throbbing in time to my racing heart. I rock my hips, sliding in and out of her pussy, and she’s frowning at me.
Yeah, Hot Body. Meet Hawk the Asshole, the guy you shouldn’t have trusted for one second, the douchebag you should never come back for. The bastard you should be running away from.
She shouldn’t have come for me.
But then… how did she even know I’m here? How did she get in? What the hell—and why didn’t I realize this earlier?
Her pussy squeezes around me, and I lose the thread. Goddamn, she’s milking my dick for all it’s worth, her breathing labored, her face scrunched up. I slam a hand by her head, sinking deeper into her, and wrap the other around her neck, squeezing just enough to make her eyes widen.
Her lashes flutter closed as I slam in and out of her, clenching and unclenching my hand over her throat. She swallows, the movement stroking my palm, making me harder.
“This what you want?” I hiss. “Wanna know the real me? Wanna go deeper, find—” Her hands scratch down my back, and need sizzles in my gut. My stomach clenches. “Find out how bad I am?”
“Can’t be worse,” she gasps, “than what I already think of you.”
I still for a long second, absorbing the blow of her words. But I don’t let it sink in. Because she’s wrong. It sure as hell can be worse, and I’ll make certain she knows it.
Another growl rumbles from my throat while I fuck her hard, harder than ever, my balls slapping her pert ass, my hand tightening around her throat. She squirms and fights for breath, and I allow her a few gasps before I clamp down my hand again.
“I deal with the Chinese mafia,” I tell her, “I turned in my parents for a chance to make the Fleming Empire greater. They were soft. They didn’t have the guts to take risks. Oh fuck…” My teeth are gritting. My dick is twitching, the pressure behind my balls hot and heavy. My body bows with my approaching release. “You will leave, and let me. Do. My. Job.”
The pressure crests, and I hover for an endless moment on the razor-sharp edge between pain and pleasure. Then it breaks, and it’s all I can do not to howl as I come hard, spilling inside her warmth.
Fuck me.
The room darkens in my eyes, tilts. Releasing her throat, I pull my dick out of her quickly, while I still can. A second later my arm bends, and I do my best to roll to the side, not to crush her.
The world vanishes, and I float in blackness. Weightless. Pain-free. Carefree.
Done.
It’s a relief. I feel that I’ve been running toward the finish line all my life, only to find it was never there.
***
When the world returns, my head is resting on something soft and warm. It smells familiar, smells good, like flowers and sugar and the musk of sex.
Like my girl.
No, fuck, no, I’m all confused. I have no girl. Just Hot Body.
Haven’t had a girl since I was fifteen and realized my dad dealt with dangerous men. Since he started walking around with bodyguards, and I was forced to do the same, since one of my schoolmates was taken and badly beaten to give information about our house and the location of certain documents.
Since I figured out that anyone who came too close to me could get hurt.
That was when I was sent to live with my grandfather and was assigned a tutor. When I learned how to fix and ride motorcycles, cook meals and mend socks and clean. How to be a human being.
Slender fingers comb through my hair, and I flinch. The fingers still, then move again, stroking the hair out of my face.
Hell, this feels nice, like a distant memory. Did my mom do that when I was little? Feels like centuries since I was a kid.
And then finally my brain catches up with everything, and I lift my head from Hot Body’s lap.
“Fuck. You’re still here.” Groaning, I push myself to a sitting position and rub a hand over my face. “Why the fuck are you still here?”
After what I did. After doing my best to hurt you.
She shakes her head and gathers in her long legs to hug her knees. “You passed out. I wasn’t leaving you like that.”
“Yeah, you should have.” But something hot is worming its way into my chest. If I let it, it can break me to pieces.
“You. Bastard.” She sniffs and gets to her feet, glowering down at me. “Fuck you. I don’t answer to you.”
Ah yes. All fire. Always liked that about her. “Don’t be stupid, girl. This is for your own good.”
“Don’t pa
tronize me. As if you know what you’re doing, dealing with gangsters.” She lifts her chin in challenge, and hell, she’s right. “I’m going. Waste your life, if that’s what you want. Destroy other people’s dreams. I thought you were a decent human being. I was wrong. I’ll never forgive you for this.”
There. Mission accomplished. She hates me.
It shouldn’t sting so much, now, should it? It’s good that she will go, get to safety, get herself out of this nest of vipers I was born into.
Damn, I knew I shouldn’t have fucked her the first time we met. She’s a nice girl, innocent. She’s a goddamn college student, her attention divided between her classes and having fun with her friends.
But when I saw her that night, crying after that asshole of a boyfriend had broken up with her while on the arm of another woman, well…
She had fire in her, even then. And she was so damn pretty. I couldn’t look, couldn’t walk away.
So here we are because of that decision, a decision I made over and over, every time we met. Because she’s hot. And warm. Because the thought of her makes me smile, makes my body hard and eager.
Because I like her.
And that’s something I need to forget about, like every time.
Chapter Six
Layla
Douchebag. I thought I knew enough about him to care if he lives or dies, but there you go. He’s right. I’m stupid.
Stupid to think a man like Hawk—oh, excuse me, Jamie Fleming, heir to the Fleming Empire, millionaire, and notorious bad boy, could be a good guy.
A guy who flirts with the mafia. A guy who’d turn in his own folks to become the top dog.
That’s not the guy who took care of me when my asshole boyfriend cheated on me and dumped me.
He never was that guy. Dodo was right when she said I should cut loose and run. That guys like him are sharks and only care about some fun and then leave you. Not that she said it in those precise words, but she did say millionaires can’t be trusted.