Tormented (Fallen Aces MC #3)

by Max Henry

  All in, baby.

  I twist at the waist, leaning down to pull her left nipple between my lips. By the groans she makes, and the fingers tight in my hair, she likes it. So do I. Her back arches, pressing her breast harder against my mouth, as I circle the tight bud caught between my teeth with the tip of my tongue. I’ve thought about doing this from the minute she plumped these babies up yesterday, but fuck it all if having her in my mouth isn’t ten times better.

  “Pretty boy,” she says, breathless.

  Not so shy about being touched now.

  I pull back, searching her eyes for any hints of regret, for any hesitation or doubt. Nothing. “You ready for me?”

  “I’ve been ready for a long time.”

  “Tell me how long.” I reach between her legs and run the tip of my index finger along the seam of her pussy. “I want to know how long this sweet little cunt has been dreamin’ about my cock.”

  “Too long.”

  I dip my finger inside, and pull away when she thrusts forward for more. “How long, Abbey-girl?”

  “Years.” Her brow pinches, as though it’s hard to admit.

  “Jesus.” Makes something else hard for me, that’s for sure.

  “I never knew what the feelings I got whenever you walked in the room were.” Her eyes drift closed as she drops her head back against the wall. “But now it makes sense.”

  I lean in and run my tongue along her throat exactly how I’ve been longing to. Even reward her with another two thrusts of my thick fingers in her greedy pussy. “How do I make you feel?”

  “Oh my God, so good.”

  “Not now,” I say, pulling my hand out of her and licking my digits clean. “Before this. When you wanted me, lusted after me. Was I your dirty little secret when you were alone at night?”

  She holds my gaze; her brown eyes an intense chestnut as she nods. “Yeah.”

  “Tell me what you did to make the ache go away, girl. Tell me how this went in your pretty little head.”

  “I . . . oh God . . . .”

  She sags against the wall as I reach behind her and grip one of her butt cheeks, tipping her hips toward me with my hold. Better. Her swollen hood, the pink flesh below; it’s all on such good display now. Sight for sore eyes.

  “Tell me, or I stop this and walk away.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Done it before, haven’t I?”

  She sighs, placing a hand tentatively on my shoulder and tracing the swell of the arm holding her against me. “Rough. It was rough when I thought about it.”

  “How so?”

  “You did this.” She lifts my hand and places it against her neck.

  Is she for real? This has to be some cruel game, some sick twist of fate. I swallow hard and force out the next question. “What else?”

  “You would fuck me so hard I had bruises on my thighs.”

  My dick weeps at the thought. “And?” She’s holding something back—it’s there in her eyes. She keeps looking away, as though shy.

  “We had toys.”

  I think I’m officially in love. Half expecting some fucker to bust down the door and gun her down right here before me, as well. She’s too good to be true, too good to keep.

  I swap hands, moving the left one from her butt to her throat, and using my right that had been around her neck to rub her clit. She grinds against me, bottom lip between her teeth as she begs me with her heated gaze to do it, to make her fantasy real.

  “What kind of toy was it?” I’ll ride across the whole fucking town until I find an all-night adult store if I have to.

  “A plug.”

  “Jesus, woman.” I drop my forehead to hers, fingers still plying her pussy for honey.

  “Sawyer?”

  “Yeah, Abbey-girl?”

  “Just fuck me hard before I change my mind.”

  As you wish. She cries out as I take hold of her backside and lift her onto my hips while placing us against the side wall so her head doesn’t hit that fucking shower rose. Could think of another rose I’d like to play with. Maybe next time . . . if she’ll let me have another go in her playground, that is. God, I hope so.

  Abbey’s hands lie flat against my back, her arms looped over my shoulders and her chest pressed against mine. Shuffling my hold on her, I reach down and align my dick with her hungry fucking pussy. Her legs wrap tight around my waist, her ankles locked.

  “Am I okay to go bare?”

  She nods, biting that fucking lip again.

  Jesus, she’s tight. I sink to the hilt; tingles break out in my lower back as the tip of my cock bottoms out. She’s tiny compared to me, so it’s no surprise I’ve literally stuffed the girl full.

  “Feel good still?”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  I rock my hips slow, relishing every moan and whimper she makes as I slip out almost all the way and then slam deep again. Her eyes close, her smile genuine as she lets her head roll to the side. Fuck, she’s beautiful. Even more so when her jaw goes slack, each vicious thrust of my hips sending her body jolting up the wall.

  I lift a hand to her throat and come close to blowing my load in her after I take in the sight that is my fingers pressed tight around her neck. Her groans are garbled, smothered by the pressure I have on her windpipe, but damn it all if her cunt doesn’t clamp down on me with each flex of my fingers.

  “You keep this up, girl, and I won’t last long.”

  “I need more,” she chokes.

  Fuck me—what’s it going to take? “Like?”

  “Hurt me. Tell me I’m a filthy whore.”

  My filthy whore. “Yeah?” I lean in and give her earlobe a firm nip. Her cunt clamps hard around my cock. “You like a little pain, bitch?”

  “More.”

  Fuck—I can’t do it like this. She gasps as I drop her feet to the floor, unsheathing myself in the process. I reach over and direct the showerhead to the wall, and then point to the tiles beneath our feet.

  “Hands and knees.”

  She drops instantly.

  My stance wide around her hips, I bend my knees and reach down to jerk her backside higher with an arm looped around her waist, placing my other hand on the back of her head to drive the side of her face into the floor. She bears her weight on one shoulder and places both hands at the small of her back. Goddammit, she’s too fucking compliant.

  “I need you to do something for me now, baby.”

  “Anything. What do you need?”

  “Fight me.” With the hand from her waist, I line myself up and slam into her pussy.

  She cries out, startled for the briefest second before she tries to get away. Good girl. Her legs pedal, knees slipping over the wet floor as she attempts to kick my feet out from under me, but it’s no use. I pound into her hard, her cheek smashed into the tiles with my hand still firmly in her hair.

  Abbey flings both arms down and presses up, but she’s no match for me. The pressure builds in my groin, the sight of her struggling to get out from under me too perfect.

  I’m a sick and fucking twisted bastard, but each to their own, right?

  “Get the fuck off me,” she growls. Her pussy stops gripping me so tight, and I wonder for a second if she actually means it.

  That is, until I place my thumb against the rose of her ass and the fight drains right out of her. She groans deep and throatily, pushing back against me as I continue to hammer her cunt. My hips are leaving red marks against her butt where I slam into her so hard, but the bitch loves it . . . almost as much as she loves my thumb exploring her ass.

  “You like that, huh?” I grit out between my teeth. “My little whore likes her ass bein’ toyed with?”

  “Fuck yes.”

  “How bad?”

  “So bad.”

  I press a little harder, testing what her reaction would be if I were to slip inside. “You’ve stopped fightin’ me, Abbey-girl.”

  She pulls away, trying to twist her body under mine. I let her, but onl
y because I want her on her back for the next part. She rolls and her hands fly, nails connecting with my shoulders and neck. She sure as fuck wasn’t kiddin’ about the role play. I wrestle both wrists into my hold, pinning them against the wall over her head with one hand while I grip her throat with the other. She strains against my hold, a well-placed thumb to the point of her jaw keeping her still.

  “No more scratchin’, okay?” Last thing I need is King asking questions when he sees the marks.

  She nods, placing her feet flat either side of where I now kneel awkwardly between her legs in the cramped space, and shuffles her butt up my thighs in search of penetration. Impatient little puppy. I give her what she deserves and thrust inside again, resuming the brutal pace from before. The pressure from my thumb on her throat is making the flesh underneath turn white, her face slowly growing more and more red as I search out that fucking finish line.

  Her pussy clamps hard, and then eases, over and over. She’s close, looking for that release too, yet not quite there.

  I’m not going to last.

  I pinch her nipple and she gasps—a breathless sound with my hand still at her throat. The familiar tingles build, my balls drawing up as I prepare to fill her, mark her, and claim her as mine. Tears leak from the corners of her eyes, and yet, she still smiles: a delirious, wide, and toothy grin.

  My hold on her nipple slips as I let go of the first load, jerking my hips into her as I bring my palm across her cheek just hard enough to sting. She whimpers, reaching the edge herself, and I help her over with a fistful of breast, gripping and twisting hard as she screams, the sound echoing off the walls of the shower.

  Her cries turn to laughter, my legs shaking beneath me as I fire my last round into the best fucking pussy I’ve had in a long time.

  Yet as I rest back on my feet and run a palm over her slick body, finishing with a thumb across her lips, I can’t help but think there’s only one thing that makes it so fucking perfect.

  The girl.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Abbey

  Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. That was not supposed to happen like that.

  I screwed up. Correction, screwed him. Shit. Now I’m just another used toy to throw on the heap. No connection, no promise, and certainly no public displays before we crossed the boundary. What reason does he have to open up and give himself over to me now? He’s scored the end goal. He’s skipped Go and collected two hundred for his troubles.

  Fuck.

  “Here.” He holds his hand out, helping me to stand.

  I shiver, the water that still drips off my body freezing now that the post-sex cooldown has begun. Sawyer reaches around me to twist the showerhead, lifting his huge hand to test the water before he returns the spray over us.

  “You always like it like that?” He envelops me in his hold, crushing my shaking body to his chest and rubbing my back in long, slow strokes as the warm water flows over us.

  “Mostly.” Slow and sensual means something special. It means love. It means care and adoration.

  I’ve never had any of those.

  “Turn around.”

  I do as he instructs, and jolt as his hands start a slow, careful job of cleaning me with the soap. In the heat of the moment I could take his touch, but now, when my doubts are screaming at me like an angry crowd . . . it’s hard to let go and relax.

  His palms glide down my legs, circling my feet, and then sliding back up to the junction of my thighs. I suck in a sharp breath as he rubs between my legs, cleaning me thoroughly.

  If he didn’t want me for anything more than a quick fuck, he wouldn’t be doing this, right? You’re making a mountain out of a molehill, Abbey. Still, the man’s track record doesn’t exactly lean to this working out in my favor.

  Who’s to say this wasn’t just another way he’s trying to bribe me to talk? I stiffen, waiting for it: the questions, the demands.

  A lesson learnt. That’s all he’ll be: another painful lesson of the heart that I can catalogue and use as a reason to shut off again. Perhaps that scared girl I tried to smother with 90 percent proof wasn’t so stupid after all?

  “You with me?” Sawyer asks as he sets the soap back in the holder.

  “Yeah.” I force a smile, turning my head to see him. “Thanks.”

  He grunts, a low throaty sound, and jerks his chin to the door. “Go get dried off while I clean up.”

  It’s only logical, what he’s told me to do, yet it still stings like rejection. What did I expect though? We’d cuddle? Fuck, look at him. Sawyer doesn’t cuddle.

  He rubs himself down with the soap as I towel off, twisting at the waist to get behind his thighs, and struggling to reach even a third of the way across his back with the size of his arms. I drape the towel over my head, pretending to dry my hair while I watch him through the thin gap in the cotton. He’s sculpted perfection, a marvel of the human body’s engineering. Every muscle is clearly defined, with striations in his shoulders. If I hadn’t witnessed him plow through that meal at the diner, I would have thought he ate a strict diet to maintain such a form.

  Who am I kidding? I’m not around him day in, day out to know. Maybe he normally does?

  I hang up the towel, gather my clothes into a bundle, and duck out before he’s switched the water off. The bag I brought in from the truck has a change of shorts and tank, as well as fresh underwear. I choose a simple pair of panties and throw the tank on, sans bra. Shoving everything else onto the single chair in the room, I realize I’ve left my phone in the truck.

  The water’s shut off in the bathroom, which means Sawyer won’t be too long. I opt to leave the door to our room open slightly so he knows where I’ve gone, and check both ways before dashing across the parking lot to retrieve my phone. It’s still blacker than my soul out here, which this time around gives me some comfort. At least if some perv happens to look out his window at me, he’d need damn good sight to see what I’ve got on display.

  I grab my cell and lock the truck before running on tiptoes back to our room.

  Sawyer greets me at the door, arms folded over his impressive chest.

  “What the fuck were you doin’?”

  I’m manhandled indoors before I get a chance to answer.

  “I went out to grab my phone,” I protest. “Sheesh.”

  “Wearing next to fuck all.”

  “It’s dark. Nobody could see.”

  “I could see.” He locks the door and turns around to face me with murderous intent hazing his eyes.

  “Look, I get—”

  “Nothing. Obviously.” He stalks toward me.

  The backs of my knees hit the bed and I fold, landing on my elbows. “What’s your deal?”

  “My deal?” he says incredulously, eyebrows raised. “Our deal is that what’s on display here”—his finger circles over my body—“is mine now. I choose who talks about it, who touches it, and who gets to so much as fuckin’ look at it for more than five seconds.”

  Is he for real? We fucked—hard—and it was good. But he’s known to do that a lot to blow off steam, to quiet the voices, to do whatever the fuck it is psychotic assholes need to so they can calm their shit. I’ve heard the whores brag about him, about how many times they’ve had him, and in what positions.

  I’ve reenacted most of it with Hooch just so I could daydream those whores were me.

  Yeah, I’m a little unstable. But so what? It made me feel good.

  “I don’t know what you think happened in there,” I say, thumbing toward the bathroom, “but I never agreed to anything other than what we did.”

  “You said you wanted it.”

  “The sex? Yeah.”

  “You said you wanted me,” he hollers, jabbing his hand at the offending room. “You told me you fantasized about this, about me, about us.”

  Shit. “Yeah, I did fantasize about you. But I never thought about what would happen after.”

  “Jesus, Abbey-girl.” He slams the side of his hand to his forehead and
paces the room beside the bed. “You don’t get to cross that line with me and back off.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be interested in more. I . . . I thought—”

  “Wrong.” He spins, taking two steps toward me and leaning over so his hands hit the mattress either side of my shoulders. His nose brushes mine before he pulls back enough to look my face over, every inch, every detail. “I mark you, then you belong to me. I don’t know if it’s exclusive yet, but when I take a girl bareback, you best be believin’ it means she belongs to me.”

  He doesn’t know if we’d be exclusive? Like fuck I’d share. “I’m not your property.”

  He smirks, cold and fucking evil. “Are you sure about that?” I see his father in him in that moment, and it’s confusing as hell.

  Because as much as I should be repulsed by gazing into the eyes of unchecked and soulless evil, it only makes me want him more.

  Maybe I am more unstable than I thought?

  And maybe being his to do with as he pleases wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all?

  I’m so fucking torn.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Sawyer

  She’s a fucking angel in one confusing little surprise package. Gave that speech one other time to a girl, and she tried to knock me out with my own boot before bolting out the door to her so-called freedom.

  Pretty blonde thing only made it fifty yards before I knocked her ass out and dragged her back to my room.

  But Abbey? She stared at me wide-eyed and then did the worst thing of all. She fucking nodded, rolled over, and got into bed.

  She’s going to be so much fun . . . .

  She ain’t yours to play with, asshole.

  But listening to me isn’t that bad, is it . . .?

  I narrow my eyes, giving the bastard pause to continue.

  Remember what happened when you went home? When Daddy gave you a sweet little surprise. When you silenced me . . .?

  Yeah, I remember; Dana died. First time I truly thought I was in love. Only time a woman’s had the ability to shut the asshole in my head up. And what came of it? I made my own decisions for a change, and they led her straight to her death.