by S. Nelson
“Yes,” Jagger croaked, his president’s hand still wrapped tightly around his throat. When Marek finally released him, Jagger quickly walked toward the door, grabbing his keys from the side table. He disappeared from the house and true to his word, his eyes never once fell on me before he left.
My heartbeat picked up pace inside my chest. Fear shrouded me. I had no idea what Marek was capable of, especially in a state of rage, never mind that I was the only one left to deal with his rantings.
On top of being genuinely afraid, I was also sad because one of the few people I would have liked to call a friend was no longer allowed near me. Would he prohibit Adelaide from speaking to me as well?
It seemed as if he was going to make me revert back to the introvert I’d been my entire life. The small taste of freedom and budding friendships were glorious, but I guessed it was too good to be true.
Marek’s back was to me, but I could tell by his posture he was struggling with not freaking out on me right then. He kept running his hands through his disheveled dark hair, his broad shoulders rising and falling in quick succession. Appearing as if he were trying to calm down, I relaxed a fraction.
Until he turned around.
And strode forward, every step toward me completely frightening.
Before I could step back, he reached forward and pulled me to him, his warm breath hitting my lips he was so damn close. When I dared to look up at him, his eyes held mine for a brief moment, something passing between us that neither of us understood.
Then he broke the connection.
“Did you fuck him, Sully?” he grated, his hold on my arms intensifying while he waited for my answer.
“No, we didn’t do anything wrong. I swear it.” I all but mumbled the last few words, the closeness we shared very confusing. I was scared of him, yet I hadn’t realized I missed his hands on me until I’d felt them again. Even in his anger.
His silence threw me into another inner struggle. Does he believe me? Is he going to punish me even if he realizes I’m telling him the truth?
Without another word, he reached for my wrist and dragged me toward his bedroom. The only resistance I gave him was a slight tug of my arm, a gesture he completely ignored. Once inside his room, I glanced around the area where I’d laid my head since he’d left, suddenly missing the solace I’d been able to create for myself.
Releasing my arm, he looked around his room, incredulous eyes giving away what he was seeing. “Did you clean my room?” he barked, walking away to look in his closet, then in his bathroom. When he came back inside the bedroom, he shrugged off his cut and threw it over the back of the chair in the corner.
Why I would clean the area I spent the majority of my time in was surprising, I had no idea. But then again, he was a man, and in my short twenty years of life, I’d never known a man to clean up after himself.
“Yes,” I answered, unsure if touching his things was going to push him over the edge or not. I stood near the door while he continued to look around, watching his every move and preparing myself for anything. While my body remained still, my eyes followed him everywhere, focusing on the stretch of his black T-shirt when he bent over to inspect underneath the bed. Although I wasn’t quite sure why he was looking under there, I didn’t ask; I remained silent, waiting to take my direction from him. His muscles strained against the fitted material, his multiple tattoos twirling around the thickness of his arms, beckoning me to . . . what? Feel them? Long for them to wrap around me and hold me close? The notion was ridiculous and I knew it, shaking my head to try and rid myself of the crazy thoughts.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he calmly said, advancing on me now that his curiosity was sated. I braced myself. When he saw the rigidness in my posture, he slowed, but never stopped. Standing incredibly close to me, he hooked his finger under my chin and raised my head to him.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, Sully, but you have to understand you belong to me now. And if any other man puts his hands on you or looks at you like they want to fuck you, I will deal with them in the only way I know how.”
“Violence?” I squeaked. I knew I was pushing my luck, but I had to make sure there was no misunderstanding him.
“Yes, violence. You know as well as I do that it’s how things are done in our way of life. You can never show weakness or else you die.” The intensity in his blue eyes frightened yet drew me in at the same time. Differing emotions pinged through me, and I had no idea which one to latch on to and ride out.
Maybe he’ll make the decision for me.
“But Jagger and I were just watching a movie. Then we fell asleep. He didn’t touch me,” I promised.
“He may not have touched you, but he certainly wants you. There’s no denying that.” I opened my mouth to argue with him, but he wasn’t having any of it. “I know what I saw when he looked at you, never mind that the little bastard tried to shield you from me, protecting you as if you were his.”
“He’s my friend,” I whispered, our continued closeness making me shift from one foot to the other while he silently demanded my eyes remain on him.
He backed away before shouting, “He’s not your fucking friend, Sully! The sooner you get that through your head, the better. I mistakenly sent him to babysit you, to keep you safe and out of harm’s way until I got back. That’s it. No more, no less. But he went and caught feelings for you. That much I’m sure.” Redness stole over his face, and I knew he was becoming more enraged the longer he stood there ranting about Jagger. I chose to agree and let the topic die before he lost control and did something I feared.
“Okay,” I mumbled, retreating a step to ensure there was a big enough space between us. Tears welled in my eyes and before I could stop them, they drifted down my cheeks and revealed my sadness.
“Goddammit!” he cursed, turning his back on me and walking into the bathroom. Slamming his fist against the countertop, he cursed some more before regaining some sort of calm.
Choking on my sobs, I tried to gather my wits and soothe myself before he reentered the bedroom, but he was too quick. I needed more time alone, but he stole those precious moments from me. Rushing toward me, he snatched me up and dragged me toward the bed, pushing me down on top of the mattress until I was completely vulnerable to him.
The long nightshirt I wore rode up my thighs the further I retreated. His gaze drifted to my exposed legs, and a sudden heat washed over me. Lust danced behind his beautiful blue eyes, but not in a way which scared me. I loved the way he watched me, even though I knew I should be on guard to any move he may decide to make.
Thankfully, I’d been wearing a bra, hoping and praying he couldn’t see my body’s reaction. My nipples pebbled and brushed against the soft material, their ache blossoming and making me fidget even more. My hopes were dashed that he hadn’t noticed when his eyes landed on my breasts, his tongue snaking out and wetting his full bottom lip.
I wonder what his kiss tastes like.
What the hell was wrong with me? The man before me, my husband, could possibly decide to force himself on me, and I was enthralled with how his lips would taste against mine?
“You’re so beautiful. You know that, right?” He reached for my legs and pulled me to the edge of the bed, prying my thighs apart with his large hands. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, but what I told you was the truth. I don’t want to talk about it again, though. Understand?” he asked, while continuing to open my legs to him.
What the hell is he doing?
I tried to move away again, but his hold was strong. “What are you doing?” I whimpered, not sure how I felt about being this defenseless.
“I never apologize,” he affirmed, “but I want to make you feel better.” Those were the only words he chose to speak before he ran his hands up the full length of my thighs, hooked his fingers in the band of my panties and removed the material from my body. His expression softened while he watched me, trying to calm me without words.
Was I ready to
have sex with him?
Would he ultimately force me, taking the decision away from me?
Before another wayward thought barreled through me, I felt his warm breath between my legs.
Marek
The sight of Sully spread bare before me was too much. I needed to taste her, make up for scaring her a few moments ago. I wasn’t apologizing for anything I did, but I meant what I’d said. I wanted to make her feel better, to chase away all her fearful thoughts with the simple swipe of my tongue.
The entire ride home, I pictured exactly the position we found ourselves in, but I never really thought it would happen. I knew she was scared of me, even though it was obvious she also desired me. Then, when I’d walked in and saw her and Jagger on the couch, my rage bloomed to heights I’d never experienced before. I’d never been jealous over a woman, but I was quickly realizing things were much different with my new wife.
She was mine, and no other man was ever gonna have the opportunity to touch her.
But there was much I still had to learn about her. Like why she looked at me with lust in her eyes, her body reacting to the mere sight of me with hardened nipples and quick pants of breath, yet she denied herself my touch.
All other women would have readily thrown themselves at me, promising me the world if they could just get a taste. But the woman lying before me broke all those molds. She was different, and it intrigued the hell out of me. While there was no way I would ever force myself on her, I didn’t think she realized that.
I guessed it was time for me to assure her.
Gently nipping at the insides of her creamy, toned thighs, her breath hitched as she waited for my next move. Her arousal was prevalent, her need for me wafting through the air and calling for me to act soon.
She rested on her elbows and waited, her eyes pleading with me to do something. Only problem was, I had no idea if she was too frightened to say anything or if she was waiting for me to dive right in.
Licking her inner thigh, dangerously close to her pussy, I uttered four words I’d never spoken before in my entire life.
“Can I taste you?” I asked, prepared for her to say no, but praying to God she’d say yes. I continued to lavish her with my tongue until she gave me the words I quickly became desperate to hear.
“I . . . I don’t know. I’ve n-never had someone do th-that before,” she stuttered. It wasn’t a no, so I was halfway to tasting her on my tongue. The notion that no other man had eaten her pussy before was incredible, the best thing I thought I’d ever heard. Knowing my cock wouldn’t be the first to enter her body was disappointing, but at least I could own this act.
I tried not to react to her statement, fueling the paranoia which was undoubtedly engulfing her right then. Instead, I chose to simply wait until she finally gave in. She watched me with careful eyes, silently pleading with me to do something, or stop altogether.
I chose to do something.
Lowering my head until the scent of her filled my nose, I opened my mouth and licked her slowly. One swipe of my tongue was all it took for her to moan out a throaty breath, collapsing back onto the bed in satisfaction. And reserve. She tried to close her legs again, unsure of what she was experiencing, but a simple growl from me told her to stop.
“Is that okay?” I asked, stunned I was even asking for permission. But I didn’t wish to push her too hard, especially after frightening her with my outburst earlier. “Do you want me to stop?” I waited at least ten seconds and still she remained quiet. “Sully, do you want me to stop?”
“No,” was her quick response, spreading her legs wider for me. I smiled big and tasted her again, this time with more urgency. I kissed and licked her as if I were eating my last meal, the scent and taste of her pushing me over the edge. Eating her out was different from fucking her, an act I wasn’t sure she was quite ready for. But my cock didn’t care, painfully pushing against the seam of my jeans, bouncing between pleasure and pain.
When my lips closed over the bud of her clit, she moaned loudly, fisting her hands in my hair and driving herself further into my mouth. “Marek. . . .” She writhed against me, trying to find a rhythm which would ensure her release.
“Cole,” I corrected, continuing to push her toward the edge.
She stopped moving and pulled at my hair. “What?” she asked, breathless and needy for my next touch.
“My first name is Cole. That’s the name I want you to scream when you come,” I demanded.
She never responded, instead pushing my face back down so I could continue. I smiled wide. She was close to diving off the cliff, so it wouldn’t take much to push her over. Thrusting two fingers inside her tight heat, I sucked on her clit until she almost shot off the bed.
“That’s it,” I encouraged. “Give me your pleasure. I want all of it,” I commanded while driving her crazy. Crooking my fingers and hitting against the sensitive spot nestled deep inside her, she cried out my name and pumped faster against my face.
“Cole!” she screamed, her body locking up tight as her pussy clamped down on my fingers. Her panting drove me to milk every last bit of pleasure from her delectable body, my cock pushing even harder against its restraint, begging to take her and finally consummate our forced marriage.
No more words were needed from either of us as she rode out her high. As soon as she’d come back down, though, embarrassment stole over her, her entire body covered in a light pink tinge. I found it rather satisfying that she could let go completely during the act, yet be shy enough afterward for her body to betray her, revealing her true feelings to me without her consent.
When I crawled over her, I took notice of the scars I’d tried to ignore when my head was buried between her legs just seconds before. The mere sight of them fueled my simmering rage, this time for a different reason. The fact that someone had done such things to her was incomprehensible, but then again she’d belonged to one of the worst clubs I knew, which obviously meant nothing to those bastards.
Lightly tracing my fingertip over the harsh, jagged scar on her lower belly, she stiffened, trying to push away from me while not being too obvious about it. But I knew. I knew she was embarrassed or ashamed or whatever crazy emotion she was trying not to show me right then.
“You have yet to tell me who did this to you.”
“Why does it matter?” she retorted, rising up on her elbows again so she could see my face. It was a brave move on her part, one I didn’t expect at all. The fierceness in her chocolate eyes bore into mine, her black hair fanning around her like a cloak.
“It matters because I’ll end whoever dared to mark your body.”
“I know I’m disgusting to look at, but it’s hardly a reason to go start a war on my club.” Her eyes widened with the realization that she’d given something away. She struggled to pull her body free from underneath me, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Not until I’d finally gotten some answers.
Pinning her to the bed beneath me, every part of me covered every part of her. Her mouth was close, so close I longed to see if her kiss was as sweet as her pussy. But I didn’t move, instead choosing to focus on the effect I had on her. Resting on my forearms to try and keep some of my weight off, I stared down at her, keeping my eyes on her face even when she looked away. A single tear escaped and trickled down her cheek, hitting the bed below.
“Look at me,” I commanded. When she finally did, I tried to ease her worry. Somewhat. “You’re far from disgusting to look at, Sully. In fact, even with all your marks, you’re rather stunning.” I spoke the truth, and I hoped she believed me. Why it was so important she trusted what I was telling her was confusing, but I didn’t have time to delve into it if I wanted her to tell me what I’d been asking since I’d taken her. “Who put those marks on you? Tell me now.” My voice was calm but my body was tense, the slow tick of my jaw probably giving away everything.
She tried to turn away from me again, but I directed her face back to mine with a simple touch. Since she had no other ch
oice, she finally gave me what I wanted, although hearing the words fall from her lips didn’t prepare me for the onslaught of rage I was soon to feel.
“Vex and my father marked me.” Just when I thought she was going to clam up again, she continued speaking, her tongue wetting her lips before her next words. I berated myself for wanting to kiss her again, all while she was exposing her soul to me, but I couldn’t help myself. She was too enticing. Luckily, I was able to focus again before she caught the distracted look on my face.
“They are both responsible for the bruises—new and old. The burn marks on my lower back are from when my father thought I was providing information to the cops during a raid two years ago. They approached me and asked if I was okay. When I told them I was, pleading with them not to talk to me too long . . . Well, that piqued their curiosity. They took me into a back room and questioned me for a half hour, twenty-nine and a half minutes too long for my father not to automatically jump to conclusions. Immediately after they left, he dragged me into his office, ordered me to take off my shirt and bend over his desk. He then proceeded to burn me twice, my screams doing nothing but making him laugh.” She spewed out word after word, as if she’d been dying inside by keeping the cause of her abuse secret. I saw a calmness drift behind her eyes when she finished the first part of her story, a weight lifted from her soul that she didn’t even realize had bound her to agony.
There were so many things I wanted to say and ask her, but I knew if I did she would shut down again. So, with controlled breaths, I allowed her to continue without my barrage of thoughts on the subject.
“Vex claimed me from my father when I was fourteen. He was eighteen. My father had been raping me before Vex took me as his own, but stopped as soon as I belonged to another club member. He told Vex I was a lousy lay, but if he wanted to find out for himself, that was his choice. He’s the one who stabbed me. Twice. Once when he thought I was flirting with one of the other members, and once just because he wanted to hear me scream. He was coked out of his mind and told me he needed some amusement.” Another tear danced down her cheek. Mortification and shame stole her next breath, and I decided right then that I couldn’t restrain my temper any longer.