by Amity Cross
“Sloane, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
“Obviously, I do because you still don’t get it! It was time for me to start earning my dues. Time to bend over and take it up the ass.” I shook my head, bile bubbling in the back of my throat. “He was going to lock me in a room with his new buddies—some ugly fuckers with awful face tattoos—and let them have their fun. The President’s daughter was a mighty fine prize. Keep her, Daddy said. Whip her, cut her, strangle her, rape her within an inch of her life. Where I come from, that’s called sexual slavery.”
“Geezus.”
“That’s how much he loves me.” I sat back in the passenger seat and kicked my feet up onto the dash. “He wants to save my life to save his pride, and when I’m back at Fortitude, I’ll just end up in the same position. I’m a commodity. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Chaser fell silent, and I didn’t have the heart to look at him. I was stuck between my desire to escape a terrible fate and my burgeoning love. I knew what I was asking him to do was just as bad. For him, it was a choice between repaying his mysterious debt to Fortitude or betraying my father for love, which he may or may not feel for me.
We’d had one night of sex, one night of him softening toward me, but ultimately, nothing had changed. Nothing at all.
Knowing it, tore my heart in two.
“They slit her throat, you know,” I murmured, watching the blur of cedar trees streak past outside.
The creak of leather signaled Chaser had tightened his grip on the wheel.
“Dad had laid her out on the pool table in the compound. Her eyes were open… It was like she was looking straight at me, but nothing was there. Her lips were already turning blue like that stupid tube of lipstick we bought as a joke at the Dollar Tree the day before.”
“Sloane, you don’t have to—”
“Did he tell you how she died?” I asked.
“It’s not my business.”
“She was taken by a rival Club, passed around, torn apart, had her throat slit, and dumped on Fortitude’s front stoop like trash.” I sniffed, my throat burning with the effort of keeping my tears at bay. “Just like our old buddy Pube Face was planning to do to me.”
The silence was painful this time. Restlessness threatened to overwhelm me, and I tensed in an attempt to stay still.
Don’t cry, don’t yell, don’t scream.
You don’t need anyone.
You can’t count on anyone.
Kill them before they kill you.
Run, Sloane. Run as far and as fast as you can.
Finally, I felt Chaser’s hand on my thigh. His touch warmed my skin as much as it pissed me off. Why did it have to be him? The universe was torturing me.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said.
“Yeah, right.”
My head fell against the window, the fire in my soul dampening. Which way was up? Should I listen to my heart or my head?
“Besieged on all sides,” I mused.
“You don’t talk like a woman who grew up in a biker compound.”
“That’s because I don’t belong there.”
Chapter 18
Sloane
That night, we stopped again.
The first thing I thought about was sex—because I still ached between the legs something shocking—but it didn’t add up. My body wanted one thing, and my head was warring over everything else.
I watched Chaser as he roamed around the room, checking the locks on the windows and looking in all the cupboards. He opened the bathroom door, turned on the light and scanned that, too.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
I made a face.
“Sloane.”
“Why don’t we keep driving?” I asked, sitting on the end of the bed. “If we’re in that much trouble, wouldn’t it be easier to, you know… Go all the way.”
Chaser grunted, doing his best tall, dark, and silent treatment impersonation.
“Tell me the truth, Chaser,” I demanded, my heart raw from our deep and un-meaningful conversation in the car.
“We’ve had enough truth talking already.”
I scowled, watching as he stood before me and glared back just as hard. Talking to this man was like flicking a light switch on and off. One second he was calm and caring, the next he was a raging asshole. What war was he fighting inside?
Either way, I’d had enough of the emotional whiplash that was our relationship.
“For once in your miserable fucking life, say what you feel,” I declared. “You’re such an asshole!”
Chaser snarled, and his hand shot out so fast I wasn’t able to dodge him. His fingers dug into my skin as he yanked me up off the bed and against his hard body.
“You want to know what I feel?” he asked as I trembled. “I’ll tell you what fucks with me every time I see your Goddamned fucking face. I see your tits, your ass, and your pussy. I see your smart mouth begging for my cock. I want to fuck you so hard… I want to bury my cock in you so deep…” His fingers twisted in my hair and held my face closer to his. “What do I feel? I feel this uncontrollable rage when I look at you, Sloane. You drive me fucking insane.”
My heart pounded in my chest as his words washed over me. I should be afraid of him, I knew it was logical to want to run right now, but all I could feel was my throbbing pussy. It was begging for him. Pleading… He wouldn’t hurt me, but his desire would.
“I’ve started something…” he murmured, his breath hot against my lips. “Something I don’t think I can stop.”
“I asked for it.”
“I shouldn’t have given it to you.” His gaze lowered, and his head tilted to the side as his body took over. Which angle would he take me from?
“Too fucking bad,” I whispered.
“You’re the worst kind of drug.”
“You’re the worst kind of kidnapper.”
He stared at me, his iridescent eyes sparkling.
I doubted everything about him. I was looking for flaws in his perfect exterior that would come out and break my heart when I wasn’t looking. I wanted to believe this was going to end well, but it wasn’t. That was the problem.
At the end of this road was nothing. Nothing at all. Unless… No, there was no unless. There was only our fucked up sexual power play.
Call it stubborn pride, call it a death wish, call it whatever you wanted, but I wanted to win.
“You want to know what I feel when I look at you?” I asked, my lips brushing against his.
“I don’t need to know.”
His mouth crashed into mine, his tongue diving right in and twisting with mine. His grasp tightened, his fingers twisting my hair and dragging against my scalp as he swallowed my moans.
My T-shirt was practically ripped off me, and then my bra was gone, exposing my breasts to his touch. Fingers pinched my nipples as we stumbled back against the bed. Hissing, I pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it, returning the favor.
Chaser snarled and tossed me down onto the bed, tearing off my boots, then ridding me of my jeans in one swift motion. He stripped me bare with such expert precision I wondered if the big secret of his past was he was a porn star with a whole reel of depraved videos of him fucking other women. An intense pang of jealousy surged through me, and I reached for his fly. After this was over, he would never want another pussy again.
He pushed my hands away, denying me my bid for dominance, and freed his own cock. It sprang forth, primed and ready, the crown tipped with pre-cum. Hard in T-Minus two seconds. If that was an indicator as to how much he wanted me, then I would take it…anywhere he would put it.
Sitting up, I reached for him again, but he grasped me under my arms and threw me further up the bed. Forcing my legs apart, he stared at my trembling pussy with unmasked hunger. Tensing, he stood at the end of the bed with his hands wrapped around my knees.
As he breathed deeply, my gaze went to his cock, and then…he struck.
Chase
r pulled me down the bed and onto his cock, impaling me as far as he could go. I cried out, throwing my head back into the blankets, my fingers digging into the material and holding on for dear life. He thrust so hard and so fast I almost came on the spot.
I squirmed, desperate to touch him, but he leaned over and caught my wrists, his eyes pinning me with their hollow longing, and I did the only thing I was able. I reared up to meet him and caused a chain reaction to explode between us.
Chaser let go of whatever shred of control he’d been clutching and pounded his cock into me. He would slide back to the tip, then drive forward with taut muscles. He thrust into me so hard it was borderline painful. Slap, slap, slap, slap…
I came, unable to hold on. Blood whooshed through my ears as I screamed and exploded into a billion tiny pieces.
He never slowed, not for one second. He let me go, and I writhed as his thumbs circled my clit, pressing hard over the sensitive nub.
As the shuddering subsided, he climbed onto the bed, knelt on the mattress, and he pounded erratically, then… He grasped my hips and held me in place as his cock throbbed inside me. He moaned, the sound echoing through my ravaged body as he let go of everything he had.
Pushing up off the bed, I climbed up his body. Straddling his lap, my arms snaked around his neck, and I held him tightly as I ground against him. Our bodies shuddered as the movement sparked another wave of euphoria, the remains of what he’d already emptied into me, spreading between us.
Chaser’s lips met mine, and he kissed me hard and slow, his tongue commanding mine in a dance that saw his cock harden up and my pussy clench around it in anticipation.
When he couldn’t bear it anymore, he lowered me back onto the bed, this time covering my body with his. Pulling back, he thrust, sliding into me almost tenderly.
This time, we came together, our fucking climaxing in an animalistic symphony of clawing fingers, desperate moans, and rippling orgasms that seemed to last forever.
We lay side by side after that.
We didn’t touch. We didn’t speak.
I’d lost the battle, but at least I’d gotten some great sex out of it. My body throbbed with the rhythm of his merciless fucking, and I would be tender for days. A stark reminder of all the things that would be taken away from me once I was shoved over the threshold at the Fortitude compound.
Staring up at the popcorn ceiling, I studied the shadows with a sense of exhausted melancholy.
“I really think this is Stockholm syndrome.”
Chaser grunted, though I wasn’t expecting an answer at all.
“It’s more like fucking the pain away,” he replied.
I rolled away from him, curling up on my side. He wanted to control me, but I was uncontrollable. I was a whirlwind of fury. I’d show them all.
Moaning softly, I slipped my hand between my legs and fingered myself, feeling the remnants of Chaser’s cum. When his body instinctively curled up behind me, I allowed him to raise my leg back over his. As I felt his cock rub through my wetness, I was powerless to stop him entering me from behind.
Who was Chaser? I didn’t really know shit about him, especially when he said things like that. How could I feel anything for a shadow?
Definitely Stockholm syndrome, I thought. For sure.
Chapter 19
Chaser
I sat on the edge of the bath, wincing as I peeled off the sticky gauze on my arm.
Pain wasn’t something that usually bothered me. I’d learned how to manage it a long time ago while out on a job. Shit happened like getting shot, knifed, concussed, and bruised and beaten. People did stupid things when they were desperate and on the edge of losing everything. They attacked, sometimes in the worst possible way.
I had my fair share of scars and then some.
Sloane was moving around in the other room, and I glanced up, peering through the crack in the door. She’d put her clothes back on—most of them, anyway. Her black panties hugged her ass, and her tight nipples peaked against the cotton of her American eagle T-shirt. Damn.
When she sensed me staring, she turned and padded across the room and nudged open the bathroom door.
She was mad at me, but it was nothing new. She was always enraged about something. That something almost always being my refusal to steal her away like some motherfucking hero in a romance novel.
“Has it fallen off yet?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“My cock is just fine. It could do with a lick though.”
“Hilarious.”
I smirked, wishing I hadn’t put on my boxers and jeans. She hadn’t sucked my dick…yet.
“All men are the same,” she said with a smile. “They’re always on the hunt for something warm to stick their wick in.”
I snorted and tossed the used sticky gauze into the trash. Twisting my head, I checked the stitches in my arm. They were intact for now. After what we’d just done to one another, it was a fucking miracle they hadn’t torn open.
“When will you take them out?” she asked, sitting beside me.
“In a couple of days.”
Sloane sighed and picked up the washcloth I’d dampened in the sink. Dabbing my skin, she cleaned the tear the bullet had opened across my arm like she was some Goddamned sexy nurse.
“Have you been shot before?” she asked. “I noticed a scar on your side.”
“Yeah, I’ve been shot before.”
When I offered no more commentary, she scowled and tossed the washcloth.
“I’m not like them,” I said, tensing as she put another wad of sticky gauze on my arm.
Her eyebrows rose. “I’m not so sure about that.”
I glanced at her, but her eyes were downcast, her hair shielding most of her expression from me. She’d let out a lot of heavy shit today so I couldn’t blame her. Still, some long-dead part of me was beginning to wake up and give a crap.
“Sloane…”
“There,” she said, forcing a smile. “All better.”
I didn’t know what I was going to say. Was I going to comfort her? Tell her everything was going to be fine? I couldn’t do that. Even if I said it aloud, she would see right through me. Sloane was more switched on than she realized.
I couldn’t promise her a happy ending.
I couldn’t promise her anything at all.
Chapter 20
Sloane
It was the second day after the confrontation at the gas station.
The cedar trees had faded away hours ago, and now we were passing brown-ish grasslands devoid of life, as we knew it. The Oklahoma prairie.
Mountains and trees gave way to an open swath of grass, which dried out into dust bowls littered with scrappy bushes and boulders the size of elephants. It could only mean one thing. The desert was looming, which meant we were halfway there.
We were on a highway to hell, literally, and it wasn’t at all like the song.
I hadn’t spoken to Chaser since we left the motel. There was nothing to say that had any hope attached to it, so why bother? My spirit was shriveling up and dying the closer we got to Fortitude…and so was my hope he would change his mind and ditch the tricycle tyrants for me and my magical pussy.
I dozed, the heat inside the car sending me off into a restless sleep.
It was midmorning when I realized we’d left the main road and were speeding down a dirt track. We went over a bump, and I knocked my head against the window. Rubbing my temple, I scowled.
Chaser turned off the engine and nodded toward the lake.
“What are you doing?” I asked, images of being murdered and thrown into the water flashing through my mind.
“Get out of the car, Sloane.”
“Why?”
“You’ve been sulking all morning.”
“Have not.” I totally had, but I wasn’t going to admit it to him.
“Get out of the car.”
I rolled my eyes and unclipped my seat belt. Always with the biting commands.
Standing, I slammed the car door closed behind me and walked over to the side of the dirt road. The sky stretched on and on, blue like the color of my mood. Stepping up onto a boulder, I looked down at what I’d thought was a valley and sighed.
A lake stretched out before me, bordered by rocks, orange-tinged dirt, and scrappy bushes that looked half-dead. The water was pretty enough with its turquoise hue and promise of washing off the sweat already running down my spine.
“It’s not very appealing,” I said, shielding my eyes from the sun.
“We’re at the border,” Chaser said, standing beside me. “Green that way. Desert and shit that way.”
“What are we doing here?”
“We need a break.”
I raised my eyebrows and snorted. “Aren’t you afraid of our murderous friends catching us out in the open?”
“I’m not afraid,” he said, not even twitching. “They’ll anticipate our route but can’t know we’ve stopped here.”
“Not unless they stuck a GPS tracker on the car,” I drawled.
Chaser gave me a look, and my mouth fell open.
“They can’t do that, can they?”
“We’d know if they had,” he replied.
“This story just keeps getting better and better.”
Turning my gaze back onto the water, I wiped my forearm across my brow.
“C’mon,” Chaser said before climbing over the rocks.
Following him, we made our way down to the lake, clambering over the scrappy shoreline until our boots hit the sandy bank. Sitting on a rock, I listened to the water lapping on the shore, allowing my mind to wander in the calmness. Nothing stirred apart from us and the current coursing through the lake.