by Marata Eros
Noose's shout is strangled.
I gag.
His erection grows tighter beneath my lips, and he comes hard. Hot jets of seed shoot down my throat. I swallow reflexively, taking everything he gives me.
My fingers slide down his body, which is coated in a light sweat, and I slip my lips off the end of him.
“Goddamn,” he says, collapsing backward onto the couch.
I watch him, unsure of everything.
Him.
Me.
He studies my face for a second. “Come ʼere,” he says, grabbing me and lifting me onto his lap.
He pushes my hair away from my face for the second time. “Where'd you learn to do that?”
“You like it?” I ask, hearing the uncertainty in my voice. “You're my first.” I love the power I feel admitting that and knowing I made him come.
Noose tilts my face up. His eyes dredge my soul.
“Your last,” he says with finality, tucking my head underneath his chin.
Drowsiness takes over.
I don't feel sleep come for me when it does.
*
Soft kisses wake me.
I shoot up.
Noose moves with me.
“Oh God,” I say, whipping my arm out for a cell phone that's nowhere around. “What time is it?” I grumble.
Noose chuckles, checking me out. “Aren't we pissing rainbows?”
I glare at him.
“Almost midnight.”
“Shit.”
“Why shit?” he asks.
I scowl.
He smooths the frown between my eyes. “Listen, I texted your parents.”
“Oh my God!” I shriek.
He covers my mouth with a finger. “Asked if they could keep Charlie for the night.”
I fall back on the couch, my forearm flopping over my eyes. “This is so dumb.”
“Again, very vague.” Warmth colors his voice.
I peek out between my fingers.
His eyes are dark; his mouth tight.
Anger.
I sit up, scooting my legs back and wrapping my arms around my knees. I notice I'm naked, and my eyes hunt for my stuff.
Noose stands, also naked but not caring in the least.
My eyes are glued to the view of his tight ass as he strides to my yoga pants and chucks them at me. I catch them, jamming them on without panties. My underwear's in a ripped pile by the table where he…
Yeah.
Heat floods my face, and I don't have to look in a mirror to feel my shame. Noose ate me.
I swallowed his cum. All of it. I didn't leave a drop behind.
Gee-zus.
He texted my parents as if he were me and lied. So I could sleep. So we could be together.
I stand and face him.
I have to be smarter than this. “Listen,” I begin, shoving my thick hair behind my shoulder.
“Don't give me some fucked-up Dear John thing.” His huge cock comes half alive. I can't have a conversation with him naked.
“Can you… get something on?” I swing my palm at his hard, hot body.
He crosses his arms, dick bobbing, muscles undulating as he folds them across his broad chest. “No.”
Okay. I gulp back my fear, shame, and lust in a tight ball of misery.
Don't ask, Rose. “What's a ʻDear Johnʼ?” I ask anyway.
An angry slash of lips splits his face. “It's a fucking blow off. A dismissal.” His words bite.
Oh.
I can't do Noose right now. I shut my eyes. Great choice of words, Rose. I say, “I can't have a boyfriend right now. I have some stuff going on, important stuff.”
Like not getting raped before the hearing. Like protecting Charlie from his monster of a dad.
Noose's eyebrows hike. “Who said I want a girlfriend?”
The pit of my stomach falls into the abyss of emotional fallout. “Then what was this?” I ask, voice small as I wave a hand between us.
Noose lifts a shoulder. “Getting off,” he says, voice hard. “You're fucking great at that. Blew me like a pro.”
I step back as if he hit me. “Blew you?”
Heat travels from my toes up my body in a nauseating wave.
Oh shit. I haven't had a bit of food in almost six hours. By now, I would have been back at Mom and Dad's, had some protein, and maybe a juice.
I sway.
Great timing, as always.
Noose's face changes to concern. “What-what the fuck is going on? Rose!” he bellows, but I'm staggering back.
Pass out time.
“Sorry,” I whisper and begin to topple.
Strong arms catch me, but my head is attached to the noodle of my neck. It rolls against his bulging bicep.
“Rose,” he says anxiously, all the toughness gone.
“Candy,” I whisper with the last of my consciousness before his face narrows to a circle and is gone.
9
Noose
Holy fuck, that girl's got a mouth.
Slick and wet, her lips and tongue glide over the tip of my cock like a moist, heated glove.
My heart slams against my ribcage, breaths coming in tight pants.
I hadn't meant anything when I'd leaned back. I needed some space; Rose had made it clear she wasn't fucking me.
But I had a load and nowhere to put it. I thought I'd jerk off and get the edge off.
If she watched, cool.
Rose is doing more than watching. Her hot mouth moves over my cock just right.
Then she adds the hand, instantly ratcheting up the gonna-blow factor by a thousand.
My cock gets harder with each pass of her hand and mouth. I wrap her hair in my fist and gently shove her face down, following her lead.
Her fingers come away for a moment, and I groan at the loss of her touch.
Rose gives me a titty-twister that's as hot as fuck, and my balls crawl up high, tingling with my load. I open my mouth to ask where she wants it.
I know where I want it.
Then she squeezes.
I reactively press her face to the base of me and helplessly unload into her mouth, throbbing my cum deep in her throat.
I moan, dying.
Living.
Rose comes up for air, and I release her head. She flicks her pink little tongue over the tip of me, and I shudder.
I lose it for a second and fall back against the couch.
I slit my eyes, looking at this girl I didn't know three days ago.
Her eyes are full of uncertainty.
I gather her against me, and she asks if I liked what she did.
Like it?
Love is more like it.
That worries the fuck out of me.
*
Rose zonks out after our fun, and I let her sleep on me, watching every breath, eyes roaming the body I just tasted.
Mainly, my eyes go back to her mouth. I think about it riding my cock and taking my load.
Hot. As. Fuck.
I gently roll her off me, settling the blanket over her lower half with real regret.
Exhaling roughly, I turn away from the view. I don't want her folks freaking out about her not coming home to pick up the kid. They're the type to overreact and call the cops.
My mind shuffles through the blue on the Road Kill payroll. We don’t have enough to prevent a little problem sprouting like a weed.
I jam a cig between my lips, light up, and walk to the front door of the cabin. I crack it, exhaling smoke rings out the door and reading text messages.
Ah. Calls the kid Charlie. I read through a few texts to the parents and see a huge Lego tower with a proud-looking kid.
He has blond hair and eyes like Rose’s.
I chuckle, flipping an ash. Cute kid. Drake's kid. My laughter vanishes.
Motherfucker.
I quickly tap out a text to her parents.
They answer back, no problem.
I don't tell them I had my tongue in their daughter or that
my cock is next. That might get their full attention.
I stab the cig out on the porch, making triple sure it's out. I turn back to Rose as she sleeps.
The rise and fall of her chest is peaceful.
My eyes chase the breaths, latching onto that fine rack. God, how could there be a woman this gorgeous in existence? How am I lucky enough to have stumbled into her?
Complicated pussy, my mind reminds me.
Yeah. Fuck. But what a pussy it is.
I toss my hair back into the tight ponytail, walking naked back to where she lies, and settle down. I can wake her before we ride outta here. I let her sleep a little bit—before I get fucking answers to who touched her.
*
I swim awake, groaning.
Rose has jerked up, frantic and disoriented, her arms flailing around—looking for her cell, I guess.
I smirk.
I fold an elbow behind my head, feeling pretty goddamned pleased with getting shit done.
No worries.
Then Rose melts down.
I tell her I got the parents dealt with. The kid's safe. We got off in peace, and it was fucking righteous.
Then she says it's dumb.
I get pissed.
For me. For the club.
I did something for Rose—lots of fucking somethings. And she's not one damn bit appreciative. She's a bitch on wheels when she wakes up.
Standing, I feel myself scowl.
She scoots back, hiding her hot pussy from me, gazing back with wary eyes.
Fuck this.
Her eyes are darting around for her shit.
Fine.
I stalk over there, scoop her pants up, and toss them at her like a baseball.
Rose catches them, hurt flashing in her eyes, then slams them on in a hurry, covering up every succulent inch.
My prick nods at the sight.
Sometimes, I hate my fucking dick. Hard to act like you don't give a shit when your dick is wagging its tail.
She's building up to something, and I head it off at the pass. “Don't give me some fucked-up Dear John thing.”
Her mouth opens and closes, her eyes dipping to my cock then shifting to my face. “Can you—can you get something on?”
“No,” I say. No. Can. Do.
She looks at me as if she's ashamed she went down on me. Hell, I took her apart with my mouth, and she fucking cried afterward.
Her reaction could have been the whole assault thing I showed up at the tail end of. I don't know. But I know I played her body the way I've always done it. I knew her. She knew me. Instinctively.
I shove that thought away. It's her and me right now. Period.
She asks what Dear John means. I tell her, each word a punch.
Then I tell her she's a real pro about sucking me off, like a whore.
Rose is no whore. She's just a fucking natural. Never blown a guy before, and she makes me cum in two minutes flat.
Jesus.
Her face crumples, and I feel like a major tool. “Blew you?” she repeats vacantly.
The color drains from her face, and she sways as if a wind just tossed her.
I step forward. “What-what the fuck is going on? Rose!” I shout, but she's already folding like a chair.
I leap, catching her before she falls. Emotions tumble around inside me.
“I'm sorry,” she mutters.
No, I am. I’m so fucking sorry.
Then she says a word that's so soft, I barely hear it.
“Candy.” Her head rolls into my arm, that ghostly color infusing her normally warm-pink skin.
What the fuck is this?
*
I hear the truck and throw myself at the door to the cabin.
Rose isn't coming around. I need to get her to a hospital.
Did I do this to her? Make her pass out because I was the ultimate cockbite?
Snare takes the steps two at a time. His face lurches inside the door like a bird after a worm. “Where is she?”
“Fuck that, let's grab her and get her to the hospital.”
He grabs my arm, and I yank it away. “Fuck this, I don't want to talk. I want to move.”
“Hang on. What happened?”
“We had some fun; she passed out. That's it.”
I jog to the couch and scoop up a lifeless Rose off the couch.
My stomach clenches. The food I ate hours ago threatens to rise.
Please be okay, baby. I smooth her hair away from her face.
Snare looks down. “She doesn't look good, man.”
“Ya think?” I bellow in his face.
Snare pivots then moves out the door and opens the back of the pickup truck the club has, and we load her in the back.
“I'll drive. You're halfway to fucked up, shouldn't be behind the wheel.”
I sneer at him, and Snare ignores me, sliding into the driver's side.
We rush to Kent Valley Medical.
Fifteen minutes at seventy miles per hour seems to take hours.
We rush to the ER, and they meet us there, taking Rose from my arms.
“What's happened?” the nurse asks me.
I stare back at her, feeling as if someone gagged me with a sock. “I don't know. We hooked up, had some fun…” I shrug.
The nurse purses her lips, running her eyes over me in ten-second judgement.
She immediately looks Rose over.
Her eyes slam back to me.
The fingerprints on Rose's throat are starting to bruise.
Fuck. She thinks I did that.
She backs away from me.
“Fuck,” Snare says.
Yes. Fuck.
She jogs with Rose on a cart around a corner, and I follow.
I don't struggle when the cops come and tear me away from a still-unconscious Rose.
It's worth it to be with her until I can't be.
10
Rose
Eyelids.
Heavy. Can't open. My vision comes back in fuzzy pieces.
The TV squawks softly.
Low light pulses around me, and the beep of machinery pierces my hearing.
Finally, I lift my eyelids then close them. I blink them open again.
Loud snoring fills my ears.
That jerks my eyes open all the way. A huge muscular man is slouched in the chair adjacent to my bed.
I'm in a hospital. My mind whirs. What am I doing here?
Memories rain down on me.
Drake. The assault. Noose.
The memory engulfs my body, zipping straight to my head. Noose’s body crawls over my mind, lighting a fire of need I never knew I had. His mouth on my sex.
My mouth on him.
Words exchanged. Distrust. Accusation.
Then I black out.
My head whips to this man in the chair. He’s not Noose. He's wearing a vest.
Memories of Anna come fast. Cut.
The vest is his cut. It says Road Kill MC.
It's one of Noose’s biker friends. I shut my eyes, controlling my breathing.
Where is Noose? What? I have a glucose dive, and he dumps me here with his buddy?
I'm so miserable about my bad decision-making, I can't think.
The buddy chooses to wake up at that moment. He sits up straight, fingers attacking his eyes, and as he rubs them to wakefulness. Bright-blue eyes stare back at me in a face with stern lines, high cheekbones, and a nasty scar.
“Hey, Rose.”
Does everyone know me?
I cross my arms, look to my left, see the waiting fruit juice, and take a sip.
“Who are you?”
“Snare.”
“Your real name?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Road name's good enough for most.”
“Uh-huh.” Road name my ass. I take a cleansing breath. “Where's Noose?”
“Jail.”
“What?” I yell, my sheet falling to reveal the beautiful hospital gown.
He sits up straight, eyes t
o the door. “Chill, okay? Noose wanted me to look after you until he made bail. I can't do that with you flipping out and shit.”
Flipping out and shit? My mouth drops open, catching-flies style. “Why is Noose in jail?” Do I want to know?
“They saw your neck. Assumed shit, as usual.” His eyes rise to the ceiling, and my hand touches my sore neck. I let my fingers drop.
“Noose thinks he hurt you,” Snare says in a low voice.
“He didn't do this,” I say, indicating my healing throat.
Snare pegs me with his brilliant-azure gaze. “Who did?”
Not going there. “Somebody else.”
His inky brows come together. “Uh-huh. Why don't you tell your friend Snare, and he'll take care of the little woman-beater problem you have.”
No way. I'm not going in debt to some biker gang when I have another one literally gunning for me already.
I shake my head, which makes me dizzy. “No.”
He lifts his shoulders. “Got all day, girl. Waiting on Noose.”
Whatever. “Will he-he be set free?”
“Now that you're awake, you can say he didn't do that damage.”
I nod. I might not want to take it farther with Noose.
God, do I want to take it farther?
But he's not going to hang for Drake. Nobody is. Ever again. Including Charlie.
Shit.
“Charlie,” I say in a stricken whisper.
Snare leans forward. “Who?”
My eyes slide to him. “Uh, my nephew.” My gaze shifts to the clock: straight-up noon.
“Is it Saturday?” I ask.
Snare nods. “Yup.” His eyes travel to my cell. “Phone's been blowing up with texts all morning.”
A breath wheezes out of me, and I fall back against the pillow, groaning.
I slide the cell across the little rolling tray and briefly scroll through my texts. My fingers stumble over the dummy text Noose sent, and my teeth click together.
Great.
I keep moving.
Honey haven't heard from you.
From Mom.
Phone us back.
Missed call from Dad.
I can't get out of calling them back. I hit the little receiver symbol, and Dad picks up on the first ring.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Princess.” I feel guilt over the relief that fills his voice.
Snare is paying careful attention. I put my forearm over my stomach and turn in the opposite direction.