Breaking Hammer (Motorcycle Club Romance) (Inferno Motorcycle Club Book 3)

by Paige, Sabrina

  And heard him make a noise under his breath, this primitive sound that made my heart race faster and my entire body cry out for his touch. I wanted him all over me, all at once. Every part of me craved him.

  I’d never known lust before Hammer.

  Now, he was teaching me what it meant to want someone this way, so badly, with every fiber of my being.

  I wanted more. I had never dared to want anything. But suddenly, I wanted everything.

  “Do you want more?” he asked, and I wondered if he could read my thoughts. But he looked at me, his eyes clouded with lust, and carried me on his cock, pushing me up against the wall of the hotel room, sending another jolt of arousal rippling through my body.

  “Yes.” I gasped the words as he rammed me with his cock. I couldn’t think. Pleasure clouded my brain, making it impossible to think about anything else except what Hammer was doing.

  His movements grew faster, and waves of pleasure washed over me, growing more and more intense as he brought me higher and higher. I clutched at his back, dug my fingernails into him, each of his thrusts bringing me closer to the edge.

  "Fuck, Meia," he said, his voice close to my ear. His lips were on the side of my neck, my jawline. "You feel so fucking good."

  I moaned, lost in his touch. Lost in my own pleasure. I had never known sex could feel the way this felt. I'd never known someone could turn me inside out, the way Hammer seemed to be able to do to me with his touch.

  "Tell me," he whispered. "Tell me how it feels."

  I could barely speak. "It feels..." I groaned as his thrusts grew shorter, deeper, more focused on pushing me over the edge. I couldn't come up with a coherent sentence, drunk on my lust for him. "It feels...amazing."

  He thrust inside me again, this time harder than the last, sending another ripple of pleasure from my core to the tips of my fingers and my toes. "How about now?"

  "Yes," I said. "Like that. Harder."

  "Shit, Meia," Hammer groaned, slamming into my harder again, faster. My back pressed up against the wall hard, and I arched into him, willing him deeper inside me.

  "Yes, yes," I moaned. "More." It was all I could think, all I wanted.

  More of him.

  All of him.

  "Fuck, Meia," he said. "I'm going to come." Hearing him say it pushed me over the edge, and I heard myself scream as I arched hard against him. He thrust into me in quick succession, once, twice, three times, and I felt myself fall over the edge. I was lost in sensation, and nothing else mattered.

  Nothing except Hammer.

  I was still, my arms entwined around his neck, my legs wrapped around his waist. I stayed that way, with my head on his shoulder, for a long time. The only thing I was aware of was the sound of our breathing, of Hammer's chest rising and falling, of my heart beating in time with his. In that moment, he was my whole world. Nothing else mattered. We were the only two people in the universe.

  Later, we lay on the bed silently. Even though my body was relaxed, my mind was already preoccupied, beginning to churn again with thoughts, barely quieted by the afterglow of orgasm. Hammer stroked my hair, his touch gentle, and something about the tenderness of his touch sent a rush of guilt through me.

  I had no business getting him involved in this.

  It was selfish, the way I'd begun to see him, the way I'd allowed this to continue when it shouldn't.

  I couldn't let this go on. Not after the way he'd been hurt when April died.

  It wasn't fair to him.

  I hadn't expected to care so much.

  "Killing the men who murdered your wife," I said. "Did it help?" I traced my finger around the muscles on his chest, feeling something stir within my core as I touched him. I willed the feeling to go away. I needed to tell him that this was the end.

  "With what?" he asked, his lids half closed.

  "The darkness."

  He stroked my hair. "Maybe," he said, exhaling heavily. "I think it might have made it worse. I think it might have awakened something in me. Or maybe it was always there."

  "I've been thinking about Aston for a long time. Since I was a child. Since my sister hung herself."

  "If you think I'm going to tell you that killing him is a bad idea, you're mistaken," he said.

  "No," I said, pulling myself up to look at him, my breasts pressed against his chest. "I want to kill him. It's the only thing that's kept me going, since I was young. I didn’t care if I died getting revenge. Then Ben was born and he became my reason for living.”

  "And now?"

  "I'm not sure I'll get out of this alive," I said. "I used to hold out hope. But now...I'm not sure Ben or I is making it out of this."

  He started to speak, but I pulled myself up higher on his chest, touched my finger to his lips, silencing him. "Don't," I said. "I don't want to hurt you. It's not good for you...this, whatever this thing is between us. It should stop, before it goes further. Before either of us becomes too attached."

  I rolled her over, flipping her onto her back on the bed, her hair splayed out behind her on the crisp white bedspread. My hands were on her wrists, pinning her arms above her head. Her eyes widened, and I saw her breath catch in her throat as my hardness pressed between her legs. I didn't move, not trusting myself to keep from just plunging into her.

  Everything was mixed up, lust and anger running through me. "If you think I'm going to fucking cut and run at this point, you are sorely mistaken."

  "I don't think I'm good for you -"

  I cut her off, kissing her hard on the mouth, my hands still pinning hers. And felt her body respond to me, squirming underneath me. One nudge and I would be inside her. "Feel that?" I asked. "You don't think you're good for me?"

  "Hammer, that's not what I..." Her voice drifted off as I paused, unmoving, the tip of my head against her entrance.

  "What?" I asked. "You don't want this? All it takes is one word, and I'm gone. Say it."

  She was silent, then her mouth opened, forming a little "O". I waited for her to say the word. If she did, I'd be released, back to my prior life. The life that didn't involve obsessively watching a woman who was enslaved to another man. The life that didn't involve searching for a child who might be murdered at any moment. The life that didn't involve this broken girl, the one who pulled at my heart, who gave me hope that I could do something to help her, that my desolate life had some larger purpose.

  "Say it," I ordered, anger pulsing through me. "If you want me gone, fucking say it. Tell me to leave, and I'm gone."

  I watched her internal struggle, and thought she was going to tell me to leave, to forbid me from seeing her again. It could be for the best, I thought. I wouldn't be dragged into something that had the potential for destruction like this had.

  "Hammer," she said. She licked her lips, pressed them together. And I knew she wanted me. One hand still on her wrists, I reached for a condom.

  "You want me gone?" I asked, finally letting go of her arms, kneeling as I unwrapped a condom. She didn't move, kept her arms where they'd been, as if still held there by some invisible force. Her eyes followed the movement of my hands as I rolled the condom along my length.

  "No," she whispered.

  "I can't hear you," I said, returning to where I'd been before, pressing the tip of my cock against her entrance, one hand on her wrists. "No, what?"

  "No," she said. "I don't want you to leave." She arched her back, and her nipples brushed against my skin.

  "What do you want?" I asked. I entered her, just barely, the head of my dick just inside her. I felt her squeeze her muscles, tightening herself around me and sending a jolt of arousal through my body.

  "I want you inside me," she said.

  That was all it took. I entered her swiftly, feeling her arch underneath me, bringing her body to meet mine. It should have been slow languid lovemaking. I should have been careful with her, gentle, tender, aware of the fact that she'd been through more shit than any woman should ever have to endure. But it wasn't. I
pinned her hands above her, entwined my fingers with hers and fucked her, my movements hard.

  "Oh, God," she moaned, bringing her head up to mine, seeking my lips. I kissed her, feeling her body respond even more strongly, the warmth inside her increasing as I moved. "Yes, yes."

  It wasn't tender, and it wasn't romantic. But it was all I had. I looked into her eyes, as she rose higher, carried away by the rhythm of my movements. I watched her mouth part, her lips opening slightly as her breath came faster and faster.

  "Oh, Hammer," she cried, the tips of her fingers kneading into the back of my hands. I could feel myself beginning to lose control, caught up in the overwhelming power of my own desire. This girl was getting to me.

  Looking into her eyes, hearing her call my name, it was enough to push me over the edge. I felt the white – hot heat of my climax surge through me, taking me by surprise. "Fuck, Meia," I said. "Come with me."

  She writhed under me, pressing her body hard against mine, and I heard her cry out my name as she whimpered, before she screamed. "Oh God!"

  "Oh, fuck," I said, thrusting inside her one final time, before everything was eclipsed by my orgasm. I felt her muscles clench down around me, and she screamed as I thrust myself deeply inside her.

  Afterword, I watch her breath return to normal, her eyes closed as she lay there beneath me. I swept a stray tendril of hair across her forehead, and felt her stir underneath me. Her eyelids fluttered open lazily, and her gaze met mine.

  "Hammer," she said. "Whatever we're doing here, whatever this is, I meant what I said. I don't want to hurt you."

  "I meant what I said too," I said. "It's going to take a lot more than that to scare me off."

  "You might regret all of this," she said.

  "Then it's my choice to regret," I said.

  I brought my hand to my lips, still tasting him on me, feeling him inside me, even though it was already a day later. I knew I was becoming consumed with him, my desire for him beginning to cloud my judgment. It was dangerous, seeing him this much. I knew it, even as I asked him yesterday to meet me again, in the same hotel room.

  It was a careless decision.

  I looked at the men, standing in front of me, their faces blank. "I'll go voluntarily," I said, looking at the rag one of the men held in his hand. "Aston knows I'll go quietly. He has my son."

  Then Aston walked into the room, stood behind the men. He didn't look at me, instead focused on his phone. "Oh," he said. "But what would be the fun in that? You have a long flight ahead of you, and I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

  "No," I said, willing courage into my voice that I didn't feel. "Where are you taking me?"

  Aston finally looked up. "To see your son," he said. "Is what you've wanted, isn't it?"

  I shook my head, paralyzed by terror. "No," I croaked. "Not like this, whatever you're doing."

  "Oh, you have no idea what 'this' means, Meia," Aston said. "I gave you everything, and this is how you repay my kindness? Meeting some fighter in a hotel room? Some white-trash biker?"

  "Your kindness?" I spat on the hotel floor, not caring about the consequences for my outburst. I was already dead. I knew it. "You've kept me your slave for years. You stole my child away from me. Lily killed herself because of the things you did to her. You have been my own version of hell."

  Aston walked toward me, took the cloth from the man's hand. It smelled sticky-sweet, and the smell, even from where he stood, made me nauseous. He smiled, the expression sinister. "How cute. You still think your sister killed herself."

  I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry as a desert. "What - what do you mean?" I could hardly speak.

  "She didn't kill herself," Aston said. "She was an...unfortunate casualty, a by-product of my youthful exuberance."

  My stomach churned, and I thought I would vomit as I imagined what Aston had done to her. "You killed her."

  "The last time I had her, she fought," he said, smiling. "She was strong, for how young she was."

  My head was spinning, and I seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. When Aston spoke, his voice sounded like it was coming from far away, even as I felt his arms on me, and saw his hand, covered in the white rag, moving toward my face.

  "And you think you know what hell is?" he asked, his voice in my ear. "You have no idea. Your hell is just beginning."

  IMPERMANENCE

  Everything is transient and nothing endures. There is birth and death, growth and decay; there is combination and separation.

  ~ The Gospel of Buddha, Carus' translation

  I knew immediately that everything was wrong.

  In my gut, I knew it. I tried to convince myself otherwise, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her, the tap-tap-tap of my foot on the tile floor the only noise in the room.

  The room was immaculate, as it always was, which was to be expected from the type of hotel this was. This was not the type of hotel where bad things happened, even if it was Vegas. At least, this wasn’t the floor where bad things happened, the suites where high-rollers stayed. Not that I was a high-roller. I wasn’t here to gamble. Gambling wasn’t my vice.

  I had so many other fucking vices, I didn’t need to gamble.

  The room was eerily still. Nothing was out of place...no furniture overturned, no ripped open sofa cushions or gutted mattress. Nothing to indicate anyone had been here in the room.

  Except the locket.

  Her locket.

  The one with the picture of a girl. When I’d asked her who it was inside, she had averted her eyes, looked away, sat there silently.

  I could have easily missed the locket, on the floor behind the toilet. If I had overlooked it, if I had just walked away instead of listening to my gut, I wouldn’t have known. I would have assumed that she walked away from me, that she had come to her senses.

  That she had decided that whatever this was, it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

  It’s the same thing I kept telling myself, trying to rationalize away what I felt. Reminding myself of April. It had only been three years. A man should mourn his dead wife for longer than three years, I told myself. A man should grieve.

  How much more could I grieve?

  Everyone I loved died. It was like a goddamned curse.

  Not this time. This time would be different. It couldn’t happen that way again. If it did, it would destroy me. I wouldn’t let it happen.

  I would find her.

  I would find Ben.

  I would bring them home.

  Inferno Motorcycle Clubhouse

  Los Angeles Chapter

  It was dark when I pulled into the parking lot of the Inferno MC. There were only a few bikes in the lot, the clubhouse mostly empty, a signal that it wasn't a party night. Blaze was expecting me, but I'd told him nothing. This wasn't something I was about to talk about over the phone.

  It was also something I hadn't taken to the Vegas chapter club president. I'd considered it, thought about telling them what was going on when I'd first found out that Aston was holding Ben. But I had no history with that chapter, other than my friendship with Skunk. Aston's power was far-reaching, and I couldn't trust anyone.

  Blaze, on the other hand...he and I had history. We used to be friends, once upon a time. And I trusted him.

  And that's why I was here on a Tuesday night, walking through the doorway of the Inferno MC clubhouse in Los Angeles.

  Blaze stood outside, smoking a cigar. He nodded at me as I approached him. "Good to see you back on a bike, brother," he said. "And back in the colors. It's about fucking time."

  I smiled, but it felt strained. "The bike feels good. Good to be back in the club, too."

  "Want to talk?" Blaze asked, but I didn't get a chance to answer before Dani came walking out the doorway, a messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

  "Blaze," she started. "I'm going to head home - " She stopped short when she saw me. "Crunch, how are you?"

  I smiled as she wrapped her arms around me, then pushed me
back at arm’s length, looking me over. "Are you back?" She looked at from Blaze to me and then back again. "Why didn't you tell me Crunch was back?"

  "I'm riding with the Vegas chapter now," I said.

  "Oh, you're still in Vegas?" she asked. "How is it going?" She stopped, apparently reading the look on my face. "Oh shit, I said something wrong. Is something wrong?"

  "No, nothing," I said quickly. Too quickly, by the look on her face. She didn't believe me. "How's law school?"

  "It's going great. Lots of work to do," she said, patting her bag. "I've got a summer internship, so I'm getting to do real work instead of the school stuff."

  "Good for the club," Blaze said, grinning, as he slipped a hand around Dani's waist.

  "Hmm," she said. "I don't seem to recall the club making me a job offer yet, do you?"

  "Let's just say, you've got an in with someone who has a lot of influence over those kinds of decisions," Blaze said. He patted her ass. "Now, get on home already, would you?"

  Dani laughed and kissed him on the cheek, then punched him playfully on the arm as she stepped away from him. "All the power of being club president is going to his head now. He's getting so bossy."

  "It's good to see you, Dani," I said.

  "You too, Crunch," she said, kissing me on the cheek. "Don't stay away so long next time."

  Blaze took another drag on his cigar, then turned to me. "Now. You didn't come out here to fucking socialize. What's going on?"

  Blaze didn't say anything for a few minutes, but I could see the wheels in his mind turning even after I stopped talking.

  "You had this discussion with Geezer?" Blaze asked, wanting to know if I’d told this story to the president of the Vegas chapter.

  I shook my head. "Aston's well-connected. After what happened with Mad Dog..." My voice trailed off, the implication clear. I didn't trust the Vegas chapter. They had given me no reason not to trust them, but I'd been burned once before and I wouldn’t let it happen again.