by Snow, Nicole
Didn't that count for something? I shook my head, unwilling to accept the obvious answer in my screwed up brain.
I was still staring at the ground when he rounded the truck, banging on its metal side with one fist. “I'm done. Let's hit the road.”
“Are you sure about that?” I reached into the driver's side and grabbed the water he'd left behind, holding it out to him. “Here. Something to rinse away the taste.”
He popped the cap and chugged it. Stray water sprayed out the corners of his lips, rolling down his cut, saturating the t-shirt he had on underneath it. The droplets drew my eyes to his body, the muscles I owed a debt to that I tried so hard to forget.
Jesus, he was strong. It was one thing just to see it on him, but to know what those fists could do...
His knuckles were scratched, but his hands were still big, strong, and masculine. Untouched. Unbeaten. My thoughts went rampant, imagining what they'd feel like wrapped around my waist, or hooked around my back, sliding to my ass.
That's it, Missy. This is when you've officially lost your mind.
I couldn't argue with the voice in my head. But the day dreams on the other side wouldn't stop humming. I absentmindedly ran my tongue over my lips, wondering how he'd taste. How would those powerful slabs of meat on his bones twitch and jerk if I put my tongue to them? My lips? My teeth?
A cool breeze blew as he started to walk back to the passenger side and climbed in. It hit me right in the middle, near the waist, pushing against my jeans. I shuddered, realizing how wet these stupid, dangerous thoughts were making me.
I shouldn't have been falling for the good cop. No matter how hard he fought and tried to protect me, I had to remember that's what he was in the end. He was one of them, part of my prison. He was the smooth side of my cage, holding me in rough uncertainty.
And not just me, but Jackie too – the most unforgivable thing of all.
If it were just me...I might've done something really stupid. I might have thrown my hand on his, pulled him close, and kissed him while I thanked him for what he'd done.
But until my sister was free, I wasn't doing anything. These mad, mad fantasies couldn't run amok, couldn't make me do something that would only delay our freedom.
I forced my hands to the wheel and drove when he gave the signal. We didn't talk much on the ride towards Redding proper. When we were nearing the city limits, he turned to me and stared.
“What?” I said, flustered.
“You did good tonight, babe. Shit would've gone off without a hitch if Serial hadn't let his drunken dick get the better of him. I'll do whatever it takes to keep that asshole away from you in the future. No bullshit.”
“It was okay up until then,” I agreed. “I'm just glad it turned out okay in the end...I mean, assuming those guys aren't going to come after you.”
“They'll let it ride,” he growled. “Club's got too much on its plate to worry about a little dirty blood between brothers. Long as I can keep it under control on my end and not plant a dagger in that fucker's guts while he's taking a piss.”
My chest tightened. Was he serious?
The savage look of satisfaction on his face reminded me once again who and what I was dealing with. These men really killed, and I remembered how close to sudden death they'd brought Jackie and I on the night they came for the money. Brass saved us then too.
I stopped and wondered, new darkness creeping into my head. If he wasn't there...
You wouldn't be here to worry about it, I thought. It was truer than anything else rolling through my head all evening.
“Listen, that other shit earlier...” He bared his teeth.
I knew he was talking about the blonde. Jealousy seethed in my blood, unwelcome as it was surprising.
I waved my hand. “It's none of my business, Brass. It's your life. You're welcome to do whatever you want behind closed doors.”
Except this one was wide open. And, of course, I was lying right through my teeth. Thinking about him and the nasty girl with the golden pigtails made me want to claw things to shreds.
“No. You got more than your fill of all the shit the brothers do at these parties tonight. You didn't need to see it from me.” He swallowed. “I didn't want it. She tried to stick her pussy where it didn't belong. I've fucked her before, but that shit was in the past. We're done. Something's changed. Thinking about that pussy anymore just makes me sick.”
“You can do better. Seriously.”
I flushed as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Being rattled so many times in a couple hours killed the brain-to-mouth-filter.
Brass looked me up and down. Then he laughed, filling the truck with his deep baritone. I couldn't help but smile.
“I'm laughing because it's fucking true. Not just with chicks, I mean. Trying to do better's the story of my fucking life since I left Montana. Better's all I got.” He paused, as if considering his words. “Thing I hate most about change is how it warps your vision. Some of the shit I see with a clear head, I'd strike down in a heartbeat if I really had a choice.”
“The stuff going on with your club?” I asked.
He nodded. “Just when I think we've reached our limit, some new asshole has to make a ruckus, painting everything darker. More bitter. I don't know what's gonna come outta fucking around with the cartel, but I don't want any part of it. Not if it means my own brothers are gonna keep acting like fucking jackals.”
My hands tightened on the wheel. He wouldn't take his eyes off me, tracing my curves. That heat was back, shades of nervous excitement I couldn't quite define, let alone handle.
He was so hard, so intense. No, handling him didn't come natural, but damn if I didn't want to try. This man might be the death of me, a fatal attraction I was destined to follow into the fire. Whether I'd meet heaven or hell there was anyone's guess, and for the first time since all this went down, I was ready to start taking bets.
“You...you never should've been swept up in this shit. I don't care what your father did,” he said. “We should've taken the money and let you go. If it wasn't so fucking hard convincing guys to do the right thing anymore, we wouldn't be stuck playing pretend. Fuck, babe, if there was a way I could've saved you and your sis without ever using the words 'old lady...'”
He closed his eyes and didn't finish. I had to keep my eyes fixed on the road, refusing to look over. Hearing him regret claiming me as his hurt.
It defied common sense, but it did, and it shook me to the core too. I leaned in my seat and pushed on, following the narrow streets through Redding toward our apartment. There was nothing left to say. Breathing another word would've only upset somebody, and we'd had enough heartache for one night.
I pulled into a parking space and got out, waiting for him to follow. The whole way upstairs and down the hall, I hoped like hell Jackie would be asleep. When I got inside, one more prayer was answered, and I was left alone to pad off to my room, alone with my fears and forbidden desires.
I woke up sometime before dawn and ran to the bathroom. It was still dark. The water I'd downed before I went to sleep helped kill the hunger pangs nipping at my stomach. I was too upset to eat earlier, worried I'd wake up with my stomach twisted in knots as I slid through my nightmares.
Brass was snoring lightly on the couch, a thin blanket thrown across him, his cut and jeans hanging on the chair next to him. I looked at the coffee table and saw his wallet. There was something else too, thick and shiny, even in the pre-dawn darkness...
I crept up, quiet as a cat, reaching out when I was close. It was the skinny switchblade he'd wrestled away from Serial. My thumb brushed the handle, running over the small bear claw pressed into the handle, one more cruel mark left by the Grizzlies MC.
My finger gently moved along the edge and pushed a small button. The sharp blade jumped out, dangerous as ever in the darkness.
I looked up, studying him in the shadows. He was huge, and right now...completely at my mercy.
The old, fright
ened, vengeful Missy Thomas inside me stomped her feet, begging me to end this right now. If I killed him here, nobody would ever know. Jackie and I could take off with his vehicle, find our way to Mexico or something.
But the way he'd gotten underneath my skin – God!
Killing him was the last thing I wanted. How could I spill his blood when he'd already given his for me? For Jackie?
He'd sliced into my soul, sure, but he'd ripped his own open and bled ten times more. I wanted to take the easy way. I wanted to be free. But I also wanted him, alive and well, and so much more. Primal greed grabbed me by the throat and forced me to look at him, a rugged manly mirror for all my feverish desires.
I wanted him on top of me, hot and throbbing, slamming me into the floor while he worked between my legs. I wanted to smell our sweat mingle when he was deep inside me, claiming me for real, shattering the game of pretend we'd been playing with insatiable lust and twitching flesh.
Honestly, I'd already lost my mind. Now the only question was whether I'd walk into the madness losing him, or else losing myself on his flesh, losing my entire world on him as he filled me, stretched me, clawed at my flesh, and split my mind in two on his dick.
I couldn't kill him. No fucking way. This whole thing was crazy and I didn't know if there even was a way out alive anymore, but more bloodshed wasn't the answer.
I turned the knife over in my hand, holding it up. With a heavy sigh, I lowered it, trying to find some way to retract the blade.
I never heard him wake up, much less climb off the sofa. He crashed into me from behind, flattening my hand holding the blade. I jerked once and flipped over, surprised I hadn't screamed.
We were face to face. He was shirtless and magnificent, pure hellfire in his expression, dark tattoos running up and down his muscular chest. He'd landed between my legs – the last place in the world he should be, especially when I had nothing on underneath my long sleeping shirt except my panties and filthy desires blazing in my belly.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled, eyeing the blade in my hand.
It was still tilted up, sturdy, his hand pinning down my wrist. “I don't...I just saw it laying there and wanted to see what it was. I didn't mean to do anything, Brass. Honest.”
He stared deep into my eyes and shook his head. Finally, he threw his hand away, but not before pulling my wrist up, aiming the dagger at the tight packed muscles on his abdomen.
“Bullshit. I know a person mulling a kill when I see one.” His breaths came heavy, and he spoke slow, soft. “Fucking do it if this is what you want. Put me outta my goddamned misery and leave. Do it!”
My hand shook against his. I tried to release my fingers, drop the knife, get away from him, but he wouldn't let me. He pulled it closer, dragging the very tip of the killer blade to his chest, right above his heart.
“One more fucking push, and you're free. This is what you want, right, babe?”
“No!” I wasn't sure how I managed to keep my voice down without screaming in his face.
It came out sharp, hit him in the face. Brass' hand squeezed, bending my knuckles in, and then let go. The knife fell onto the carpet next to me. When I looked down to see it, I realized my whole body was shaking underneath him.
“Can't say I never gave you a chance, Missy,” he said, peeling back and hovering over me, his hands planted on the floor. “Wake me up when you know what you want.”
The smug tension in his voice struck deep, setting off a bomb inside me. Next thing I knew, I jerked up, threw my arms around his neck, and smashed my mouth on his.
Our lips touched like lightning criss-crossing the sky.
Brass' mouth was hard, unmoving for a single second, and then he parted his lips and grunted. His arms slid around me, pulling me up, smashing my breasts against his chest as he pushed my lips apart with his tongue.
God, he was hungry. I'd never been kissed like this. But then, no other man had kissed me after holding a knife to his heart before, baring everything, life and death and lust.
Brass growled, lowering me to the floor, reaching up to my long brown hair. He tangled several strands in one fist and ripped my head back, all the better to access my lips, shoving his tongue deeper into my mouth.
He licked the way I imagined he fucked. Rough, fast, and totally dominant. There was no playful tease in these kisses, no gentle build. His teeth nipped at my bottom lip, holding me open for his tongue. He found mine and led in a fiery dance, licking against my soft, wet tongue until I had to follow him, kissing him the way he wanted.
No mistake: I wanted it hard. I wanted to kiss and feel and fuck. I was done thinking.
It was the best alternative in the world to screaming and beating at his chest, crying like a broken fool on the floor. He saved me from all that – he saved me. Again.
All my blazing emotions shot to my heart, where they were ejected as pure lust, a powerful need to feel him all over me.
For once, Brass and I were on the same wavelength too. Our flesh sang in unison, tense and ready.
After a couple minutes on my lips, his free hand moved, starting at my knee and sliding straight up. His calloused hand kissed my thigh, on its way to the soaked black lace between my legs. He growled through his kiss as he shoved my gusset aside and rubbed two fingers up and down my slit, a short, rhythmic test before he pushed them inside me.
Fuck! Oh. My. God!
I grunted in his mouth as he worked through my folds. My pussy wrapped around his fingers and shifted each time he went a little deeper. His strokes were soft at first, but quickly grew faster and harder, dipping in and out in long jerks until his thumb pressed on my clit.
I broke the kiss, begging for air, feeling my lungs and everything below the waist turning to stone. Brass yanked on my hair and held me up to him as I sucked precious air, face-to-face. Lust incarnate looked back at me, pure desire formed from all the hate and want between us, finally set free.
“Do I need to stuff my hand in your mouth when you come?” He pushed his face closer, dragging rough stubble across my cheek. My thighs rippled together, locked around his hand, bucking for relief.
I realized he was talking about Jackie, asleep down the hall. Damn!
“No...I can't let her hear...I think I can keep it –“
Together? No fucking way. A voice deep in my head laughed.
“Oh!” My lips formed a perfect circle and my vision blurred.
I gasped, sweated, pinched my thighs tight around his palm. Jesus, I needed him, needed him to finish kindling the fire he'd ignited in my core.
Brass' hand went mad, moving like clockwork through my folds, or maybe like a clockmaker who knew exactly how to wind my pussy up until I shattered. It felt so fucking good, but I couldn't scream. I'd never forgive myself if Jackie woke up and came in here to find us like this.
I had to keep it down. I had to stop myself from –
Brass made sure I'd be screaming in his hand, and nowhere else. He moved it out of my hair and covered my mouth as his face moved down. He caught the edge of my shirt and tugged it up with his teeth, stopping the hypnotic circles between my legs just long enough to rip my panties down.
When I realized the only place he was going was down, I started to pant. Rough stubble and hard, sucking kisses danced along my cleavage, then rode my stomach, drawing me against his mouth.
His face pushed between my legs and took over where his hand left off. My body jerked against his, grinding into his hot hand. I thought his fingers were good, but his tongue – Christ! – I was finished.
Hot, long, godly licks steamed through my folds. He tongued my wetness eagerly, like my cream was the booze the men sucked constantly at the clubhouse, trailing his licks up to my clit. When he found it, my whole pussy sizzled on his face, ready to come apart.
Muscles tensed up and convulsed, small bundles across my body I didn't even know I had. He must've known I was about to burst because he shoved the edge of his hand into my mouth, forc
ing me to bite him.
I did. But it wasn't enough. I barely had time to beat my hands on his shoulders before the insistent, tight fireball in my womb exploded. My thighs locked around his head and I came, groaning against his palm, losing total control.
My eyes rolled back, lost in black and white and red. I never came so hard, flailing against him as he held me down, never stopping the wild, rhythmic tongue laps on my clit. He completely smothered it as I rode his face, my pussy convulsing around him, like he was breathing lightning through my nerves with every insatiable lick.
I came. I climaxed the pain and hurt of the last few weeks, the insanity of doing it with him, giving myself over to desires that were sick and taboo on a good day. Having him between my legs was so damned wrong, but my body told me it was right.
There was no doubting it. The saner, rational bitch I became to keep myself safe would've jumped through the roof in horror, but pleasure didn't lie. And pleasure won out in the end, overpowering my regrets, my fears, my doubts.
His tongue fucked me until I couldn't even breathe, buried beneath a couple hundred pounds of huge, hard, tattooed muscle. I barely had time to worry about whether or not his hand stifled the carnal pleas ripping up my throat.
When I looked up, he was hovering over me, the two fingers he'd had inside me near his lips. The fire in his emerald eyes doubled when he stuck them in his mouth, giving them a good, long suck before wiping his chin.
“You taste even fucking better than I imagined. I'd give up whiskey for that sweet little cunt.”
I laughed, slapping his shoulders again. Okay, now I knew he'd lost his mind. But Brass acted perfectly sane and determined as he brought his hands to his boxers. My eyes followed, and I noticed the monstrous hard-on straining there, looking like it would punch through the thin fabric any second.
Horny curiosity tingled through me. I swept one hand down below his belly, reaching for his dick. I found it, and squeezed, hissing through my teeth.
God, he was big. Hard. Ready to fuck me through the floor, just like I wanted.