by V. Theia
H: 10:07 - I'm fine. How’s the head shrinking, you fixed everyone in Texas yet?
He got the deviant joke loud and clear, the one about the biggest head case craving the taste of a psychiatrist. The little bit of a thing was smarter than most.
There was some biblical irony in that somewhere only Mary Magdalene would understand hitting above her weight grade.
Not even a minute later she replied with a laughing emoji
G: 10:08 – Ha Ha! Trying to! Are you coming to Texas any time soon? Miss seeing you.
He could practically see the subtly dripping from the letters. Gauging his reaction, using her head shrink knowledge on a demon would never work, she should know that by now. His chest tightened until he popped up to his feet, pacing the four-foot by four-foot room, glaring down at his phone.
What was the little bit of a thing doing to him? Twisting his insides until he didn’t recognize himself. Miss seeing you.
He wanted to bombard her with a million questions all starting and ending with was she seeing anyone? And then the two-part follow up question being; who the fuck was he and where did he live? so Hawk could do a small matter of homicide. Not anything clean either, nah, for the lucky sonovabitch who got to be with Gia, hold her, touch her as a normal man, he would paint the walls with his blood, his screams would rip so far down into Hawk’s soul that maybe for one night he’d have a slice of peace.
He asked her nothing.
Hope was a weak rebellion not meant for the likes of him. The last time he felt hope he was royally and painfully screwed over by people who knew better.
People of faith were the worst kind of scum. All hiding behind their righteous bible bashing and god-fearing ways. May God strike fear in your heart bullshit. He'd rather be a heathen than swallowing those lies. There was nothing more terrifying than a deluded human speaking for a non-existent entity and feeling righteous about every dirty thing they did in His name.
Hawk's belly sunk hollow, black and empty, much like his chest that corroded desire into something nasty and wrong. Hawk paced until his knees creaked, glaring down at his phone like he could reach through and touch what he was forbidden to want.
What would it be like? He wondered, with his mouth parched, his dick hurting. He wouldn’t jerk off, he didn’t deserve the release.
He wanted a fight, though. Maybe those pretty boys out there in the club would indulge, he could find their weak spots in minutes, those little foibles that made a person tick. It was his skill. You find the tick, you find the pressure point to a person blowing up. And then watch them implode.
She infested his mind, thoughts of worshipping her in dark ways, her laugh would be his reward, her screams his payment for a man worthy of being in her fucking presence and not dying of overexposure to all that goodness.
The devil couldn’t walk into a holy house and not expect a few flames.
Fuck, he needed a reality check yesterday.
How much more could he take of this? Back and forth he paced. From one end of the small room to the other.
The ping vibration in his hand startled him.
G: 10:27 - Did I scare you off? You don’t have to be. It would be nice to see you, we didn’t get time to chat in Colorado last year.
And then another right on its tail.
G: 10:28 – Please talk to me, Hawk. She included a sticky-out tongue emoji. He wanted to suck on her tongue. Wanted to shove his tongue into her pussy until he drowned.
And then.
G: 10:29 - We were friends a long time ago. Three emoji’s with it this time; a motorcycle, a man, and a woman. He remembered the night he took her home on the back of his bike, dainty fingers clutching his waist, branding him forever. He’d known then. She’d smelled of lemons and he still couldn’t see the fruit without wanting to pulverize it into mush.
His belly sunk lower, feeling the burn of memories.
They were never friends. She was a little bit of a thing he wanted to do disgusting shit to until she was painted in his come and nastiness.
He should have been fucking shot.
Worshipping Gia would have been the easiest thing Hawk had ever done in his miserable existence. He’d found the club, found Rider and by chance he’d met Rider’s baby sister a few years later, whose smile had rocked his fucking world and hadn’t righted itself since. Game fucking over.
He couldn’t have feelings for her or anyone, he was a cancer that had no cure.
Wasn’t that what they said?
His snarl was bitter and just a tiny bit unhinged as he replied.
H: 10:41 - Don’t message again, Gia. Get on with your nice normal life. I have no time to baby you.
He fucking hated himself. His gut burned. He tossed the phone to the bed and punched his fist into the wall, blood exploded out of the already torn knuckles. Did it again just to regroup himself.
“Motherfucker!” He snarled, teeth bared, eyes wild. Both fists clutching the side of his head, hating the noise.
He didn’t want to look at her reply. She was too reasonable, he could hurt her and still like a goddamn abused puppy wagging its tail it would come back for more affection.
Blood rushed through his ears.
He felt sick. Bile rising in his throat.
Don’t make me look. Delete it. Fucking delete it, now!
It sat like a tumor inside his cell phone. Mocking him. Mastering him.
He looked. Instantly regretting it. Imagining her crestfallen face was about as bad as it got. Did her eyes fill with tears? Because of him and his cruelty.
G: 10:44 - One day I’ll learn my lesson. Bye, Hawk. Take care of yourself. No emoji this time.
It was whispered he was insane. He’d heard more than one person say it when they thought he wasn’t taking notice.
He always took note.
They weren’t wrong.
What else would explain this disease he had for a little bit of a thing crawling into his pores. He couldn’t shake it, out run it. Even now his cock was raging to be stroked, to empty inside her.
She was forbidden for good reason. Couldn’t she understand it was for her own good? He didn’t need Rider to kill him to get that message loud and clear. So why wasn’t he letting it go? Knives continued to dig into his kidneys, a harsh reminder of the self-inflicted pain only brought on with his obsession of one little bit of a thing.
Maybe they were right. His nasty was growing. You have a cancer in you, child, it’s black and badness the devil put there, only acts of goodness can expunge you. What they did was nothing good. And that’s what it always came back to. When he thought he could try being normal, the cancer gripped him again, the nastiness festered and spilled out of his guts. He was disturbed in the most hidden ways. A demon walking with men. Sweet Gia didn’t deserve that touching her.
Hawk couldn’t breathe. He felt his lungs constrict tightly in his chest, air blocked half way down. He ripped open the door, pounded his boots down the corridor, lost for a second, he pushed his way into the common room, all eyes hit him, one dared to even venture forward, he snarled, warning them off. Fucking idiots trying to be friends.
He needed no one and wanted none.
When his fucked-up gaze landed on a bitch, no taller than his shoulder, red hair cut in a straight neck bob and tits bigger than melons, the opposite of his little bit of a thing, he pointed a long finger, curled his lip when her eyes rounded then smoked out to lust.
Fucking idiot.
Motioning her forward, only one thing would get rid of Gia.
When she got closer, he smelled her fear, she was unsure of him, rightly so. Be afraid. Please be fucking afraid, girl.
She’d get off. They all got off with him. He didn’t care, didn’t try to get them there.
He only wanted his noise to go away.
To make his fucked-up addiction disappear.
Because what good could come of it? The little bit of a thing was wrong in every eventuality.
They were never friends.
<
br /> Never would be friends.
But he would protect her with his life. Even from himself.
There was going to be a day that Rider nonchalantly dropped into a conversation that Gia was getting married to some dickbrain banker or lawyer, his chest hurt letting that thought in, but he needed to let it in, to sink in deep into his wounds so he could accept its inevitability, even as he pulled that redhaired bitch by the wrist to a quiet room down the corridor, tuning out her harping talk, he could give a fuck what her name was. She had a pussy and she stank of fear, she had the winning lotto ticket.
He was too busy thinking of his little bit of a thing being fucked by an ordinary man who would laugh and smile with her.
Fuck him. She wasn’t his.
He hated Louisiana and the goddamn heat. Now he hated a figment guy who one day Hawk would have to try really, really fucking hard not to stalk, and prey on and kill him ten different ways.
He goddamn hated his obsession.
It was the most vicious blade and he was bleeding out.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“There's petting, and then there's Preacher man petting. No comparison. One makes you feel good, the other makes you feel good all over." - Ruby.
"I wasn't prepared for this."
"What's that, beautiful?" Preacher was climbing back into his bed as she watched his sleek movements, a lethal jaguar using every single muscle to aid in moving like he was gliding. He prowled over the space of his huge bed, the biggest bed she'd ever seen or been in, it was serious royalty worthy. He plonked down in the middle, letting his palm find her inner thigh.
Her shiver was instinct and a little ardent charge. His voice a rich baritone that did nothing to lessen the monsoon of butterflies in her belly. "You." She couldn't take her eyes off his six pack. It was just so there ---so defined, every ridge and bump pronounced on his torso leading down to that V women loved like it had been sculpted in clay first and fixed to his body. The man was put together so well it made her mouth fill with moisture. Long after he was gone from her life Ruby would diddle beneath the sheets and think of his exquisite body, maybe place him in one of her dirtier fantasies that got her off, oh yeah, she'd so put Preacher as a starring role.
“I could say the same.” Fingers stroked up and down her thigh, shivers followed his touch.
He placed his arms over his head, dipping his back in the middle. The stretch elongated his abs. She let go of a little whimper. An angel needed a gold embossed bench in their honor for making that body. His muscles all rolled in tandem with his inhale and the way his forearms flexed … Jesus Christ. Dragging her gaze away before she licked him from head to toe.
They lay in relatively comfortable silence, each fine with the quiet, his fingers reaching out now and then to touch a part of her naked body, and she did the same while she mused on her new friend-with-benefits. Good things never lasted for long, at least that was her experience so she intended to milk this--and him for all it was worth while she had it. Her head turned on the pillow and watched as his eyelids held at half-mast. There was a dangerous side to Asher Priest. Not just because of his biker connections, those were disreputable if you believed rumors around town about the Renegade Souls. People both feared and adored those club men. The rumors varied from sex to gang wars and even murder, but that was in hushed whispers and never accused to the men themselves, and it wasn't as though she could come out and ask him, yet that darkness lurked in his eyes and his smile, secrets, and shade and things he wasn't saying or couldn't say. This was sex, so did she even want to know what he got up to? No relationship here.
How could she have ever thought he was just a manwhore. The man was an ocean and she wasn’t saying it simply because he knew how to make her come. Preacher had made it a point to ruin all future men for her. Rotten bastard. He was going to be the benchmark for every other man she took to her bed.
And that piercing. Fricking hell, she could still feel it scraping against her inner walls. Ruby had complied with everything he'd demanded since it had felt so damn good to be controlled by a man who knew what he was doing.
He caught on to the tempo she liked, and the angle in which to lift her pelvis so his cock could go impossibly deeper in that hard-stretching way making her take it even when it had hurt.
And the dirty talk.
How had his tongue not eviscerated out of his mouth from sheer hotness? He was filthy and seductive and he turned her stomach to water.
Mesmerized in his eyes looking up at her, she didn't know whether to fall for him or be disgusted by her mooning behaviour getting lost in a good dick.
Luckily for Ruby, whatever Preacher saw in her face, he took the moment back by rolling her over and laying on top of her, pushing her legs open to make a space for him.
Being naked she felt all of him.
All. Of. Him.
Every large inch brushing her sex.
That thing had a mind of its own, unending stamina and it seemed to like the home it tunneled inside her. Ruby hummed in her throat not minding it at all, even as her core protested a little sore. The pressure in her sternum emptied, a giant bolt of those turned-on hormones flooding through her.
Oh, here we go again.
“Don’t be wary. I can see it in your eyes. We can enjoy this, baby. It’s so good, isn’t it? Tell me you enjoy it.”
Bossy. She grabbed onto his beard, gave it a tug to bring him closer to her smiling mouth. “You feel good lying on top of me. You feel incredible inside me.” She watched the darkening going on in his green depths, such pretty eyes for a hard man. She arched her neck to lick his bottom lip. He groaned. “You feel amazing fucking me. Fuck me, Preacher man.”
With a torn expletive their kiss was savage, he forced her lips open, it caused a fresh wave of dampness between her legs. How he treated her, roughly, gently, like he couldn’t get enough and wanted it five minutes ago, she’d never felt such unquenched power.
The firm hardness of his ass felt like a rock as she squeezed and rubbed herself on him, she almost slipped his cock tip through her lips and directed him to her entrance when his massive body moved downwards.
Oh god. The man was obsessed with giving head.
Completely obsessed. He’d licked her so much even now her vagina convulsed in anticipation of the brush of his beard against her inner thighs and the flat tongue that would----yessss. Her back left the bed, his head already descended between her spread legs she shamelessly opened wider displaying everything to him, inviting him in.
"This right here is my fucking place." He drew his nose along her slit. Ruby's legs quivered, feet braced on either side of his hips, the heat coming off them both was hot enough to power the town for a month. "When I suck this little clit I can feel just how hard I make it, Rubes. And then when I tongue-fuck you and you soak my mouth, it's goddamn heaven. This is my place. Your pussy was made for my mouth to eat it. You like that?" He flicked his tongue after each word, Ruby barely heard a thing over her own panting. She sounded like a wounded Chihuahua.
Words escaped her because he was doing some tongue wiggling right below her clit. A place she didn't think was so sensitive until she jerked hard. Oh, good god, what was that? what was he doing? how? Oh, god. He moved his tongue around in that same spot. She arched her back to watch.
There was no run-up to an orgasm. One minute she wasn't orgasming. the next she was in the hardest way, every bone of her spine contorted up pressing her pussy to his mouth even when she wanted to escape the torture. Too sensitive, not enough, more, more, yes ... she cried out.
She had to grip his massive shoulders for fear of dying in his bed, her legs were useless, her mind was in a worse state buzzing pleasure, aftershocks stacking up twenty high, shaking her. "What-- oh god." Half-sobbed. Dazed and dreamy she fell back.
"I know, beautiful. Feels good, doesn't it? I told you this is my place, look how the little darling listens to me when I whisper sweet words to her." Preacher was nuzzling her with his lips,
flicking his tongue taking all her pleasure into his mouth, far too sensitive to be played with, she clenched and cursed the air with choppy breaths.
It was as though he'd mined for gold and found a second clitoris. She was a mess, soaked, could feel her climax running out of her and she was useless to do anything about it, her body flopped back, her eyes closing heavy.
Jesus, talk about your knock out gas.
"Preach…" Unable to even form his whole name.
He chuckled dropping a kiss on her mound before he prowled over her body collapsing at her side, his hand went to her belly and he stroked her gently, bringing her down from the high she never knew existed. She was in the fucking clouds high as a kite on Preacher man sex.
"I have you, let me bring you down. Poor baby took it, didn't you?"
"God."
He laughed again a rich satisfying sound. No more than one word would form on her tongue. Death by orgasm. It was a thing. It was real and alive and here in Preacher's bedroom.
Their eyes met and held like always.
She couldn't move a muscle but offered her mouth when he leaned down taking it softly coaxing her lips into opening for his tongue and it was just as sweet as the last kiss and the one before that.
A hand stole between her thighs and she jerked. "Too soon."
"Just a little pet, Rubes. It'll make you feel better again."
"I don’t think I can walk, ever again. You’ll have to go on the trip alone, leave me here to die, maybe leave me some Doritos within reach and ranch dip." She informed against his soft lips and softer beard. If she could use her fingers she'd tug that hair right off his chin.
"You're welcome, beautiful, I enjoy making you messy. Now you'll let me know when you're reading for more." The hardness against her hip said to hurry. Instead, she luxuriated in his kisses.
Tasting the wicked man and his wicked tongue.
When the feeling returned in her limbs she reached between them and grasped his cock. Tight and hard.
“Fuck yeah. Work me up, get me crazy.” The room began to spin with their arousal, the air sucked out, it was just this; her hand, his cock and their shared pants and Preacher’s occasional expletives blistering the air when she rubbed his pre-come against the underside of his swollen tip.