Cutslut

by Kim Jones

  With a hand at my back, Luke ushers me toward his truck. This time, instead of an old man riding behind the wheel, it’s Dallas. Next to her sits Red. Climbing in the back seat, I slide to the middle, expecting Luke to follow me. But the door closes behind me and he says something to Dallas before walking off toward his bike.

  What starts as a low rumble of pipes soon turns into a loud, reverberating noise that shakes the windows of the truck. We pull in behind the pack and out of the parking lot. When I see we’re heading through town on a busy weekend night, I realize this is the perfect time for me to get away.

  I could jump out and run when we’re stopped at one of the many traffic lights lining the street in front of us. I could trick Red and Dallas into stopping somewhere. Hell, I could probably just ask and they’d willingly let me go.

  But I’m too tired to plan. Too tired to run. My chest is tight. My eyes burn. I feel…low. The cause could be a number of things. Witnessing Jimmy’s murder. Cain’s rage. Pierce’s hateful words. Travelling halfway across the country against my will. The sexual tension thrumming through my body. Or maybe just my shitty day in general.

  I never thought I’d be the kind of girl who just gave up. Missed out on a perfect opportunity. Took advantage of a situation. I guess enough really is enough. Eventually, everyone breaks. I think I’m crumbling.

  10

  WINTER

  Though the ride to the clubhouse is silent and completely uneventful, it’s just not in the cards for me to have peace. Seems every time I get a taste of reprieve, it’s snatched from me before I can savor the flavor.

  Everywhere I turn, there’s someone there to shatter what’s left of me. Some job that needs to be done. Some bad news waiting to be heard. In this case, it’s the familiar SUV that pulls in next to us that reminds me of why my life is shit.

  “What’s he doing here?” I ask, my eyes focused on Jinx as he rounds the hood of his car. He glances over his shoulder at me and smirks before continuing his walk to the clubhouse.

  Red turns in her seat and shoots me a confused look. “Who Jinx?”

  My blood runs cold. “You know him?”

  “…Yes…” she says cautiously. “I assume you did too…considering.” She smiles at that. Obviously pleased with my discomfort that’s slowly simmering to a boiling rage. “Don’t worry.” She winks. “He’s not married or anything.”

  “I don’t give a shit if he’s married, Red,” I spit. “What’s he doing here…at the Devil’s Renegade’s clubhouse?”

  “Well Winter,” she drawls, as if my name tastes like sweaty balls. “He’s a Devil. Why wouldn’t he be here?” Emotions guarded, I just stare back at her until she continues. “To be so damn clever, you sure are stupid.” Rolling her eyes, she moves to get out but my hand on her shoulder stops her.

  “How about you enlighten me on what the fuck is going on.” She drops her eyes to my hand before looking back over her shoulder at me. I smile. “You know you want to. So go ahead. Because this may be the only opportunity you get to damage me.”

  I know Red’s not an evil person. She doesn’t want to break me. Not because she cares. It’s just not who she is. But she owes me one.

  “You stole from him. He’s here to collect. Can’t say I blame him.”

  Swallowing hard, I force out the question I really don’t want to know the answer to. “Vegas. My kidnapping. He plan that shit?”

  Her brow lifts. “What you think?”

  Without giving her a response, I open the door and clamber out. My heels sink in the thick grass with every step. Even though it’s freezing outside, my entire body feels like it’s on fire. I’m beyond angry. I’m livid. And when I push through the door of the clubhouse, all I see is red.

  Jinx is sitting with his back to the bar, facing the room. His cut is over his shoulders. A glass of whiskey in his left hand. My fucking panties dangling from the index finger on his right. His hat is pulled low over his eyes. And I couldn’t be more convinced that he was the man in the ski mask if he was wearing it in this moment.

  The bastard.

  He took me.

  Gagged me.

  I pulled a gun on him.

  He kissed my hand.

  My lips.

  He played me.

  Me.

  Winter Tews.

  And I don’t get played.

  He’s mid conversation when I approach so he doesn’t see me. Or my hand as it cuts through the air and lands in a loud, satisfying smack across the left side of his face. The blow nearly knocks him off his stool. My hand throbs in response, but it’s well worth it.

  “You son of a bitch,” I growl, ignoring the tiny prick of fear in my spine as he slowly turns his head to face me. The look he wears might be the most terrifying thing some people have seen, but I’ve lived with a monster for years. I’m not easily rattled.

  “That shit’s gettin’ old, sweetheart,” he says, a hint of a warning in his low tone. Just as I’d predicted, he’s the masked man. Looking at him now, I wonder how in the hell I didn’t see it before.

  “If you’re that hard up for cash, I’ll get you the money. You didn’t have to fucking kidnap me and send me halfway across the country over a measly three hundred grand,” I seethe. He just shakes his head.

  “It’s not about the money. You know that.” He’s right. I know this isn’t about money. It’s about principal. Someone stole from him. A woman who was put out bad. If I were a man, I’d already be dead.

  Steeling my spine, I glare at him. “Let me make something perfectly clear now that I have everyone’s attention.” I wave my hand around the room, motioning to the crowd that’s gathered around us for the show. “I’m leaving.”

  Leaning back, he studies me with a curious expression. “You sure about that? Cause the way I see it, you have nowhere to go. That is unless you run back to Cain. And I guarantee you, you’re better off with me than you are with him.”

  “Don’t,” I warn, pointing my finger at him. “Don’t you dare tell me what’s best for me. You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know you’re not leaving.”

  I shoot him a sardonic smile and throw his words back in his face. “You sure about that?” He gives me a confident look that says he accepts my challenge. I wonder if he’ll be as cocky about accepting defeat.

  “You know,” I laugh, turning to face the room. “They say it takes a village to raise a child. Seems you learned something from that ancient proverb. Considering it takes every fucking one of you to solve a problem. I steal from one and I find myself face to face with an entire chapter.”

  I cut my eyes to Jinx then drop them to his cut. “Cut one and we all bleed. I am my brother’s keeper.” Smirking, I lift my gaze and shake my head. “It’s obvious you all live by those patches. But doesn’t it get old? Constantly having someone else handle your problems? I know after years of living with Pierce, I got tired of it.”

  “Seems to me you didn’t get enough of it,” Dallas calls out from across the room. “Have you already forgotten whose team you’ve been on for six years? Or was that just a rumor?”

  If this were my family, I might be proud to call such a ballsy woman my sister. But these people aren’t family. She’s not my sister. And she sure as shit wouldn’t be that ballsy if it she didn’t have that army standing behind her.

  I shoot her my best smile. “Funny you should bring up rumors. I’ve heard a few myself. And now I have to question who is worse. Me? A simple cutslut who took a little cash. Or you? A woman who has murdered not one but five men.”

  “Shut up,” Jinx warns. He’s not yelling, but he’s not exactly whispering either.

  I ignore him and keep my eyes on Dallas. At just over five feet tall, you wouldn’t think the multi-millionaire beauty was capable of any heinous crime. Word on the street says otherwise.

  “How about you?” I move my finger to Red—ex-stripper. Ex-junkie. Ex-cokewhore. She bristles but remains silent. “Know where I ca
n get any good heroin?”

  “I won’t tell you again.” This time, Jinx’s voice is lower. Deadly. I should heed the warning. I don’t.

  “Let’s not forget you, Delilah.” I turn my attention to the damaged girl who was once a whore, but now proudly wears a Property patch. Traitor. “You went from being a clubwhore who was a pain-slut, to a patch holder’s submissive. How’s that working out?” Delilah’s smile suggests that nothing I’ve said bothers her. Good thing I’m not finished. “Oh…by the way, how’s your brother?”

  The last thing I see is her fearful, wide eyes staring back at me before Jinx dips and crashes into my abdomen. I’m lifted and thrown over his shoulder so fast, it takes my breath. When I finally catch it, I rain my fists down on his back and kick my legs against his stomach—hoping to land a blow to his balls. I fight hard, but he doesn’t slow his stride as he carries me down a hallway.

  “Let me go!” I scream, calling him every nasty name I can think of. Just when my creativity starts to run out, I’m flipping through the air. Then I’m on my back on a bed. Jinx’s big body straddles my waist. My wrists are seized in one big hand while he pins me to the mattress.

  Gripping the sheet in his free hand, he pulls it to his mouth and rips it with his teeth. I still beneath him. Maybe the son of a bitch is a vampire. But when he starts to tie my hands with the scrap of material, I resume my struggle. It’s pointless, but I refuse to give in.

  I manage to kick him hard enough to make him grunt. He only presses his weight further down on me while he continues to tie my hands. Just as I feel the fabric tighten around my wrists, I pull hard against it. But not only is this bastard a master with his teeth, he’s also good with knots. And the harder I pull, the tighter my binds become.

  Quicker than I hope, I become exhausted from my fight. Instantly I’m aware that his knee is between my knees. The rough fabric of his jeans pressing against the heat of my pussy. I hate how good it feels. How my body responds. How much he’s aware. How intensely he looks at me. How I can’t hold his stare because my eyes keep moving from his to those fully, parted lips.

  I remember how he kissed me.

  How good it felt.

  How bad I wanted it then…

  …How much more I want it now.

  11

  JINX

  This bitch is fucking with my head.

  It started tonight when she got in the backseat of my car. The expression she wore threw me for a loop. Twisted me the fuck up and had me rethinking my entire plan. In that moment, I was ready to call Pierce and tell him I was out. All because she was happy.

  Fucking happy.

  When she smiled, it wasn’t guarded or forced. It was genuine. Beautiful. And because I was so affected by it, it infuriated the fuck out of me.

  When she showed up at the bar, she looked like the cutslut I knew. The traitor. The thief. The lover of my enemy. The girl I’ve been watching for years. When I asked if she was a whore and she didn’t deny it, that hate that’d been simmering during our entire conversation surfaced.

  It was almost too easy to get her to leave with me. I had it all planned out. I was going to fuck her. Use her. Take another piece of what she owed me. Then she smiled that happy fucking smile and I was floored.

  Then it got worse. I made her feel cheap. Like the whore she didn’t deny being. She looked conflicted. Shameful. Sad. Most of all, she didn’t look happy. That bothered the piss out of me. I wanted to take it back. It was too late. The damage was done. Her happiness was gone.

  But she wasn’t the only one conflicted. I was one confused motherfucker watching her walk away. For years I’d been anticipating how good it would feel to break her. Tonight, I finally got the opportunity to take something worthwhile from Winter Tews—her happiness. But instead of feeling good, I felt like shit.

  My whirlwind of emotions sent me crashing to the earth and snapped me back to reality when the brazen little bitch walked through the door of the clubhouse. Put her hands on me. Opened her mouth and said shit she had no business saying. Once again, I was reminded of why I hate her. And it was time to remind her of it too.

  But now here we are. Me on top of her. Her tied up beneath me. Glaring at each other. Seething with rage. Filling the air with our loathing. And all I can think is, damn I shouldn’t want to kiss her crazy or fuck her hard. But damn I want to kiss her crazy and fuck her hard.

  Someone like her isn’t supposed to feel this goddamn good under me. Someone who intentionally hurt my family. Disrespected them. Said shit to their face that should’ve never been said out loud. No. This girl isn’t supposed to make me feel anything. But she does.

  I want her. Worse than I ever wanted any woman. Not to claim. Not to cuddle. Not to hold and pet and buy flowers and shit for. I just want to fuck her. Bury myself in the same pussy so many others have. Because I know when I fuck her, it’ll be different.

  That uncertainty in her eyes tells me she’s never had a real man between her legs. Whatever clients, club brothers, gang bangers and pencil dicks she’s used to riding don’t quite measure up. She can control them. But not me. She knows it. It scares the fuck out of her. And turns me on even more.

  My cock swells and her eyes narrow when she feels it press against her pussy. I bite back my growl when the heat there nearly scorches me. Son of a bitch she’s hot. The only barrier between us is my jeans. Her panties are tucked into the pocket of my cut.

  “I fucking hate you,” she hisses, her chest heaving.

  I give her a cold smile. “I fucking hate you too, sweetheart.”

  Then I’m kissing her. Angry. Hungry. Greedy…Crazy. Capturing what little breath she has. Keeping her powerless. Pressing my weight further into her so she’s defenseless against my strength. Not that it’s necessary. She yielded to me at sweetheart.

  I check her wrists—making sure they’re secure before I slide my hands down her arms to her chest. Then I’m fisting her dress. Ripping the fancy fucking material and exposing those big, fake tits I probably paid for. If I did, she can keep the money. I can’t think of anything it would’ve better been spent on.

  I drink in those pretty, perfectly round globes with light brown nipples and can’t resist dropping my mouth to them. Sucking. Biting. Licking. Ravaging. Pissed because I want them. Pissed because she likes that I do. Pissed because I know if her tits have the power to turn me on this much, her pussy will be my undoing.

  She moans. Throws her head back. Offers her chest to me. I press my knee further between her legs. Her cunt is wet—soaking through the thick denim of my jeans. She groans and tries to lift her hips. I shift so her legs are free and she immediately wraps them around my waist and pulls me further into her.

  “If you want it, sweetheart,” I say, kissing my way to her neck. “You gotta beg for it.”

  “Never,” she breathes, defiant as ever. Turning her head and giving me better access to her throat. I smile against it.

  I lick my way to her ear and whisper, “Beg.”

  She jerks her head away from me and I capture her mouth—absorbing her grunts of frustration. She finds my bottom lip and clamps it between her teeth. I meet her eyes and they’re on fire. So are mine. So is my fucking lip. She bites harder and I growl—thrusting my hips in warning. Her entire body tightens when the movement strokes against her swollen, sensitive clit. But thankfully, her mouth falls slack and releases my lip.

  I kiss her again—undeterred by her biting. Proving it’s going to take more than a little nibble to scare me.

  My fingers work the button of my jeans. Her heels are at my waist—impatiently shoving away the fabric that separates us. I break our kiss just long enough to tear a condom wrapper open, then she’s soothing my swollen lip with her tongue. I’m punishing her with mine.

  Shoving her dress up her succulent thighs to her waist, I get another glimpse of that pretty, pink pussy when she opens her legs wide in invitation. When I fingered her tonight, I was surprised at how tight she was. So I steel
my resolve and prepare for how snug her little cunt is going to feel around my cock.

  I line up the head of my dick with her slick pussy. When just the tip slips inside her, I have to fight against the pull as she squeezes around me. Trying to force me deeper. Patience, sweetheart.

  Patience, Jinx—you over eager fucker.

  “I hope you like it hard,” I growl out, waiting for the moment her hips lift again in reply. When they do, I impale her.

  Her mouth falls open wide in a silent cry. Her breath stuck in her throat. Eyes wide in shock. It’s a struggle to keep from mirroring her expressions. I knew she was tight, but damn. And my cock is big, but it’s not that damn big. Especially for a woman who fucks for a living.

  I pull back, then plunge deep inside her again. My balls immediately draw up tight—heavy and throbbing as they slap against her. I keep my grip on her waist firm to hold her still as I thrust again. And again. It’s rough. Merciless. And motherfucker it feels good. I can’t get enough. So I drive harder—pulling her to me as I do. Surging impossibly deeper.

  When her face pinches in pain, I still. Her eyes are squeezed shut. Her body wound tight. Stiff with tension but slowly relaxing as the pain subsides and is replaced with pleasure. But, I think I’ve hurt her. And for some fucking reason, that does not sit well with me.

  This was supposed to be like it always is with a whore. No need for restraint. No reason to hold back. It’s the best and worst thing about being with a loose woman.

  But Winter isn’t like other whores. Actually, I feel like a tool even referring to her as one. Judging by the vice-like grip she has on my cock, she may very well not be or have ever been a whore. It’s either that or every man in Vegas has a tiny dick.

  “Look at me,” I tell her, my tone softer than I expected. Probably because, even though it’s no longer there, that pinch of pain that was etched on her face still flashes in my head.