Tied Down
Page 72
It’s temporary.
The president holds out his hand for me to shake, but I just can’t stomach looking into that fucking asshole’s eyes and taking his hand as though he’s my equal. An image of Mike’s lifeless body in the hospital bed flashes, and my face slowly burns. I feel like I can imagine it going black and curling backward, like that biker Tommy torched to avenge my brother.
That makes me smile.
I take his hand, and it’s like a battle of who can crush the other guy first.
“These are the girls who are willing to provide an alibi for you.”
Johnny crosses his arms. “If everyone keeps their mouth shut, we can put this behind us.”
Cold rage brews in my chest as Johnny gives me a quelling look. Put this behind us? I look around for a friendly face, and see Sal, the underboss. He darkens as he meets my gaze and he very slightly shakes his head.
Don’t do anything stupid.
Pissed, I turn back toward the women they have lined up for me. They stand close together, looking vaguely unhappy as they avoid my gaze.
Which one am I supposed to pick? The one who seems the happiest or the one I see myself fucking?
“So, what am I supposed to do once I pick one? Throw her over my shoulder and walk out?”
My humor echoes hollowly in the clubhouse and Johnny gives me a withering look before he turns his head.
“This is just a meeting,” the president says, unsmiling.
Whatever.
My attention turns back to the row of women patiently waiting for me to make a decision. My eyes skip from pretty face to face, recognizing nothing but fear. I almost skip over the last one, too. Then my heart turns to stone. The long, highlighted blonde hair and deep-blue eyes strike me suddenly. That rosebud mouth was wrapped around my cock hours earlier. Holy shit, it’s her. The girl I banged in the club. What was her name?
Beatrice.
Her eyes fasten on me and she does a double take, her sullen features gradually hardening into grim resoluteness.
So I already fucked the biker bitch.
Well, well, well.
This is interesting. Either she scoped me out or this is one hell of a coincidence. Considering the lack of surprise on her face, I’d guess it’s the former.
Holy shit. Was does that mean?
Beatrice takes a small step back as I make a beeline toward her, ignoring the others. I stand a foot away from her, smelling the shampoo on her damp hair. Her pink lips, still flushed with the heat of the shower, look perfect. I want to wind my hand in her hair and crush those lips against mine. Without her makeup she looks even more vulnerable, though not as much as she did when she was naked under my hands.
Do not get hard right now.
Instead I just speak to her, almost trembling in anticipation. “I’d like a word with you in private.”
She lifts her gaze, looking over my shoulder to the president as though for permission, which makes heat flare in my chest.
His gravelly voice cracks the silence. “Go, Beatrice. Take my office.”
The girl who I fucked hours ago gives me a polite half-smile and walks toward a room across the hall. I open it for her and she walks inside, her limbs shaking. There’s a small walnut desk and a couple chairs. She wraps her arms around herself as I shut the door and then the silence in the small room suffocates us.
I can’t stop seeing her naked body. Mere hours ago she was completely and utterly mine. She clutches the edge of the desk, staring at me, and a sickening twist of self-disgust wrenches me. This girl represents everything I fucking hate, and I want to fuck her again.
“I didn’t expect to see you again.”
“It’s Jack, right?”
She uses the French pronunciation for my name, the staccato sound clipping from her tongue. A deep, buried memory of my mother surfaces to my brain. She bends down from her chair, arms outstretched: Jack, viens ici.
She’s gone, too.
“Yeah.” My voice sounds unnecessarily loud in the small room. I approach her and she clings to that desk like it’s life or death. I stop inches away from her. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? You don’t like being so close to me?”
Beatrice blinks her blonde lashes. “No,” she says defensively. Then she looks up in horror. “I didn’t mean that!”
Damn straight.
Fuck, she’s hot. It’s rare that a girl holds my interest like this, but I like the way she avoids my gaze and blushes prettily, just like a shy schoolgirl. I want to touch her, and I reach out to grab her shoulder, knowing she won’t stop me. She trembles a little as I slide my hand to the base of her neck. I held her just like this when she sucked my cock. It tightens in my pants as her heady scent ensnares me like a strong shot of tequila.
“Why did you scope me out in that club? Don’t deny it.”
She glances at me. “They told me what they wanted me to do. I just wanted to see if I’d like you.”
I guess that makes sense.
“From the way you were screaming, you seemed to like me a lot.”
The ache pounds as a pink blush spreads over her cheeks.
“I made a mistake.”
“You probably did.” I rub her throat with my thumb. “Did you want to sample my cock again before sealing the deal?”
A shard of anger cuts at me as she meets my gaze.
“We can fuck in this room if you’re still undecided—”
“Don’t talk to me like that!”
I take a step back as she shoves my chest, looking furious. So the biker bitch has some personality after all. It’s amusing to see the horror falling over her face, and I laugh at how frightened she looks. My laughter dies and she stares at me with indignation.
“Why did you volunteer yourself for this?”
A defiant, hard look comes over her eyes. “None of your business.”
“So much fucking attitude. You weren’t like this at the club. You were so eager to be mine.”
The little freckles on her nose burn, along with the rest of her face.
It’s hell being so close to her. I grasp her neck lightly and feel her pulse jackhammering into my hand. She parts her lips and I can smell the mint on her breath. She even brushed her teeth to get the taste of my cock out of her mouth.
I can still taste her.
“Look, I made a mistake.”
I don’t give a fuck.
She makes a sudden movement with her hand. “I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t a psycho. I didn’t think it would go that far.”
“Well, it did. I’m not crying over it.”
My pulse races when I see how flustered she’s getting. She seems tortured by that fact—and by my hands on her neck.
“Don’t insult me by telling me you didn’t like it.”
“I did like it,” she says, skin so bright that I can feel the heat. “That’s not the point.”
I lean over her so that she’s pinned against me. Her panicked breaths blow on my lips and I dig my fingers into her hair. “I’m not crazy.” A smile hitches up my face. “At least, not in the way you think I am. I’m not going to hurt you, but I’m sure as hell going to use you.”
“What do you mean?”
“The MC wants to please me, so that’ll be your job. Pleasing me.”
“I—don’t understand. This is about me giving you an alibi.”
Hatred rushes into my throat. “This is about becoming my wife. Maintaining the alibi is just one of your duties.”
“Maybe you should ask one of the others for this arrangement.”
“I won’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m choosing you.”
Her nostrils flare. “You didn’t even talk to the others!”
“Do I look like I give a fuck about talking to some biker sluts?”
“They’re not sluts—”
“I don’t care. I hate them—I hate your whole fucking MC.”
The injustice of it all boils
up again, burning my throat. I fucking hate them—hate Johnny. The Devils MC got the drop on Mike and beat him. He was barely speaking and then someone finished him off. The MC wasn’t involved. That nurse confirmed my suspicions.
“If you hate me then why go through with this?”
I feel the anger steaming off her skin. I lean in closer, even though she looks forbidding. Blood rushes to my head as I inhale the perfume of her skin, and I remember how it clung to me all the way home. Damn it, I’m getting hard just thinking about it. Fuck her. I tighten my fingers in her hair and crush my lips against hers, backing her against the desk. She opens her mouth in a gasp of surprise and I stick my tongue down the bitch’s throat. She clings to my jacket but suddenly releases her hands as though she’s been burned. I taste the mint in her mouth, but I want her to taste like me. I want to fucking defile this innocent biker girl.
You already did.
I pull back slightly. “I’ll hate you, but I’ll love fucking you.”
Beatrice makes a face and steps away from me. Her chest burns a bright red and her hair is frayed. How far can I push her?
“Does the president know I’ve already tasted the goods?”
I practically hear the slap coming, and I deserve it, so I let her hand rip across my face. Damn, she’s got an arm. She brings back her hand, and I’m distracted by how hot she looks when she’s pissed off. Her hair whirls around her head as she comes in for another one, but I catch her skinny wrist in my hand and yank her forward. The gasp she makes when her body bumps into my chest goes straight to my dick. I remember her gasping just like that, with her arms like a vise around my neck, her tits in my face.
Fuck.
She flinches when my mouth hovers over her skin.
“I expect to see some of that fire in the bedroom.”
“Go to hell!”
Then I let her go, laughing as she stumbles away from me to run back to her beloved clubhouse.
I am going to hell.
* * *
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Also by Vanessa Waltz
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The Mechanic (Fair Oaks #1)
The Detective (Fair Oaks #2)
Royal Romance
Dirty Prince
Billionaire Romance
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Double Blind (Vittorio Crime Family #2)
End Game (Vittorio Crime Family #3)
His Witness (Vittorio Crime Family #4)
Cravotta Crime Family
Married to the Bad Boy (Cravotta Crime Family #1)
Knocked Up by the Bad Boy (Cravotta Crime Family #2)
Property of the Bad Boy (Cravotta Crime Family #3)
Owned by the Bad Boy (Cravotta Crime Family #4)
Bad Boy Empire
Hitman’s Bride
His Secret Baby
About the Author
Vanessa Waltz loves to write steamy bad boy romances. She lives in Seattle with two crazy cats. To be the first to know about her new releases, please join her newsletter (no spam, ever).
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