I like being ruined, destroyed, worshipped, fucked by these leather-clad monsters with their steel and chrome beasts, their skin of ink, their hearts of shadows.
I like it, and that scares me.
I like it, and that's why I have to run.
Sin takes my tender nipple and rolls it between his fingers, sliding his tongue against mine in time with rolls of his hips. He moves his cock in my sweaty palm, seeking my warmth, desperately searching for the hot core between my thighs.
This isn't a lovemaking session, Gidge, I tell myself, get those panties off and get it done.
And yet, I can't seem to hurry this moment anymore than I already have. Instead, I focus on kissing Sin so hard and furious that I'm a match for his punishing passion, a force as capable of knocking him back as he is for me.
I need him sweaty and sated and off-guard, that's what I need.
My life literally depends on how I fuck right now.
Reaching down with my free left hand, I start to wiggle out of my panties, and Sin makes this sound of frustration, like I'm getting in his way. With careless ease, he tears the thin silk off of me and lets the lacy remnants fall to my ankles. His fingers seek me out, teasing my core as I swipe my thumb over the head of his shaft, paying special attention to the slit, working it in time with his groans.
“Shit, I'm an idiot,” he curses against my mouth, sliding one and then two fingers inside of me. “Your dad is going to kill me if he finds out.”
“Better hurry then, and nobody has to know,” I whisper, my left hand finding the pocket on his vest and pulling out his keys. I time that move with a swirl of my thumb around the base of his head, working pre-ejac from his cock to use as lube.
Got it! The keys come into my palm like a magic trick, and I chuck them aside, right into the thick green fronds of a fern. I cover up the sound with a moan that's not entirely false. No, Sin's fingers feel good, his dick hot and heavy in my hand, and his mouth … it's a storm of wild heat that I want to drown in. I'd stand stone-still in the pouring rain and open my mouth to the showers, let the lightning come down and destroy me.
Releasing Sin's cock, I push at his jeans until he pauses the delicious curling motion of his fingers, shoving the denim down his own hips and lifting me up like I weigh nothing. A pleased and slightly surprised sound escapes me as he grinds his hips into me, moving my clit with the head of his dick.
“Need a condom,” Sin mumbles, but when he goes to reach for his pocket, I panic, realizing that he might figure out his keys are missing. Grabbing his chin with my hand, I dig my black-painted fingernails into his flesh and kiss him so hard that it takes my own breath away.
“On the pill,” is my response, and even though I know there are risks, my life's on the line here. And well … maybe I'm just a hedonistic little lush, and this is what I want?
No hesitation on Sin's part. Now that he's got the green light, he cups my ass in a tight grip and lets me deal with guiding him to my opening. Our eyes meet just before he thrusts up and in, hard and fast. pinning me against the cabin door with a cry.
My arms curl around his neck as his hips slam into my aching body over and over and over again. The door rattles in the jamb, and I just know that Grey can hear us. Doesn't matter though. Even a thought as sobering as that does nothing to cool the fire in my veins. No, it's an all-consuming rage, a forest fire destroying lives, just like the one that killed the forests the day of my sisters' funeral.
Pain, heat, ash, and flame.
That's all I am right now, just a bundle of wild, throbbing nerves.
Burying my face in Sin's neck, I let myself fall into the pleasure, tumbling into that shit like Alice down the rabbit-hole, into another world, into a broken, dirty world of leather and blood and bikes and bullshit.
“Oh shit, Gidge,” Sin moans, as I wrap my legs tighter around him, my hips working just as fast and hard as his, pleasure spinning through me from both my clit and my cunt. “I'm gonna come.”
“Do it,” I growl, digging my nails into the back of his head, throwing my own back so that it hits the wood of the door. “Now. I want it, all of it.” Sin makes a dark little masculine sound of pleasure and thrusts even harder, burying every inch of himself inside of me.
I've always been good at controlling my own pleasure, and this is no different, the signs of an orgasm prickling at the edges of my vision. It'd be so easy to give in and let myself go boneless with pleasure. No. I won't come. Unlike Sin, I need my wits about me.
My pussy clamps around him, pulsing in pleasure, and I feel this evil grin spread across my mouth as he groans, losing himself inside of me, his cum hot and liquid as it fills me and drips down my inner thighs.
There's a long moment there where we stay together, bodies locked, hearts pounding against one another.
But then he's sliding out of me and stepping back, steadying me on my feet before he lets go and backs up several steps, almost like he's scared of me. Well, maybe he would be if he weren't so pissed. That anger's lit up his eyes again, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't know what to do with himself.
“Sin,” I start, but he's already shaking his head and turning away from me, running his fingers through his hair and then getting out a pack of cigarettes. I need to get him out of here, I think as he just stands there and smokes. But how? “Are you okay?”
“Can I have a minute, Gidge?” he snaps at me, and I frown.
“You're going to fuck me and then yell at me?” I ask, bending down to dig in my purse for some wipes. “Real classy, Colton.” He spins back to look at me, and sees me with the wipes in my hands, getting ready to clean up. I cock a brow. “Can I at least have a minute to clean up before you start yelling at me?”
He opens his mouth and then snaps it shut again.
“Fine, but I'm not going very far,” he snarls, moving over to the edge of the woods and leaning his shoulder against a tree. I wait for the span of a few breaths as he pulls out his phone, answering it with a noncommittal grunt.
Fucking finally, I think, grabbing the keys and unlocking the door to the cabin. I slip inside, taking a moment to slip in a tampon—best quickie cleanup tool ever—and pulling on a fresh pair of panties. The smell of blood stings my nose, and my nostrils flare as I take in Grey, slumped over in his chair, hands and ankles still bound, dirty brown blood all over his face and hands. He doesn't even look like he wants to live anymore, like the life's been sucked out of him. Knowing my dad did this, my brother, Crown, Beast, Grainger, Sin … I feel sick.
The smell is awful, like copper and urine, and it takes everything I have to cross between bars of shadow and moonlight to kneel by his side.
Why am I risking everything to save the son of the man who ordered my sisters raped and killed? Why? Why, why, why?
Because in Grey Wolfe, I see myself. He's the son of an empire he doesn't want. By saving him, I save myself. That's why I'm here. Because I don't want his blood on my hands. This isn’t for him; it’s for me. Even in my heroism, I’m intrinsically selfish.
“Hey,” I whisper, trying to ignore the delicious whisper of sex singing a siren song in my blood. Fucking Sin was mind-blowing. And I want more. I hate him, and I still want more. How screwed up is that? I must really hate myself. But I'm not going to be that girl anymore. “Grey.”
I snap his name off the end of my tongue like a whip, and he comes to, blinking bleary eyes up at me. He seems surprised to see me there, and then fear quickly overtakes his expression. He thinks I'm there to kill him.
Digging my fingers into the pocket of my jacket, I pull out the army knife that Queenie gave me when I was eleven, and start to undo his bindings. He's been strapped into the chair with plastic handcuffs, and holy fuck are they hard to cut. I think I nick us both a little as I dig into the plastic, but that's okay. If I have to wound us both to save our souls, that's alright.
It's what I have to do.
“What are you doing?” he asks me as his hands come free and his body slu
mps toward me, too weak to hold itself up. “You're going to get us both killed. Get the hell out of here.”
“Do you want to die?” I snap back at him, freeing his ankles and helping him to his feet. It's not easy. The kid—and wow, my perception is fucked because really, he's about a year older than me—can barely stand. He's been tied up for too long, beaten and tortured for too long.
“I know how these things work, remember?” he growls, gray eyes flashing. “You do this and the club will never stop hunting you.”
“I don't care,” I whisper back, even though my blood is filled with icy shards of fear. This is it. This is really it. This isn't sneaking out to a party, wearing pants my dad doesn't like, putting on too much lipstick … this isn't even getting a girl killed at church camp.
It's betrayal, pure and simple.
I can never come back from this. Never.
Hooking Grey’s arm over my shoulder, I help him toward the door, but our progress is excruciatingly slow, and I can feel my anxiety rising in waves. I'm honestly surprised Sin isn't in here already, sounding the alarm on my ass.
The fear in my heart peaks as the cabin door creaks open and a figure walks in, tall and imposing and wearing a healthy frown. But it's not Sin, it's Crown.
“What the fuck are you doing, Gidge?” he asks, his voice like ice. I stare at him, and for the first time in forever, I'm really and truly scared. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I grab Posey's tangerine colored Taser. She bought it when one of her exes started stalking her, but .. the club took care of him real quick. His body was found floating in Bay Creek, behind a cluster of apartment buildings. No leads, the cops don't care about some deadbeat, low-grade drug dealer. Heh. Pretty sure he used to work for the club, too. I mean, he wasn't part of the club, just a paid lackey, but still.
I realize my mind's wandering, and I'm hesitating.
Hesitation will kill me here. It's the absolute last thing I need.
“Gidge, it's not too late to fix this,” Crown starts, holding his hands out toward me. I look him dead in the eyes, and then pull the trigger. Electricity makes my hair stand on end as the prongs make contact with his chest, dumping voltage into Crown's big body and dropping him to the floor of the cabin. But this isn't fucking Hollywood: Tasers don't knock people out. No, it's going to buy me a few minutes at most.
Crown is groaning, his body still shaking with tremors as I lean Grey against the wall, and bend down, digging through the vice president's pockets. When I find the keys to his bike, I stand up and take hold of Grey again, leading him outside and into the darkening shadows of early evening.
“We don't have a lot of time,” I grunt as I do my best to support Grey's weight, eyes flicking across the horizon, looking for Sin. He can't have gone far, right? Shit, this is never going to work! I think as I drag Grey behind me like a broken doll. If I were to drop him and run, then maybe, but not at this pace. “I need you to walk.”
“Walk?” he chokes out, the caustic bitter notes in his voice burning my ears. “They tore my toenails off; they embedded nails in my heels. They burned me until I passed out. How do you want me to walk?”
I swallow hard past the smell of him, and the dark, dark thoughts, tugging me down as surely as his extra weight. I keep us moving, dragging Grey down the slope and then finally, sitting down and sliding us along the wet, steep curve of grass. It's a hell of a lot easier than walking, although I'm pretty sure I've got blades of green up my ass crack.
Crown's bike is parked next to my grandmother's house, shining in the sun, a pair of helmets waiting like this whole thing was planned. I slump Grey against the seat and help him into his own before putting mine on. Glancing back, I see Crown stumbling out of the cabin door like he's drunk. His eyes meet mine as I swing my leg over the bike and Grey uses the last of his strength to climb on behind me, his grip around my waist surprisingly strong despite all the shit he's been through.
I'm worried about his ability to stay on the bike with me, but what else can I do? This is our only chance.
“Hold on like your life depends on it,” I murmur, taking advantage of the keyless ignition, and peeling out of the space before Crown even makes it down the slope. It won't be long before he alerts Cat, and I'll have the entire club—Gaz, in particular—on my ass.
My heart pounds, sweat pouring down the sides of my face as I head for the north exit, knowing that it'll be closed and guarded, but also aware that it opens automatically from the inside only. When I zoom up on Crown's bike, wearing his helmet, the barbed wire fence begins to creep open. As soon as there's a space large enough for me to get through, I zoom past it, wondering if the on-duty guard is going to shoot me in the back as I speed away.
But nothing happens.
Won't last for long though.
Once they figure out I've spirited Grey away, we'll have the entire club looking for us.
“Where are we going?” Grey shouts over the raging wind; it whips the loose strands of my hair against my face, making my swollen lips sting.
“You're getting dropped at the nearest bus stop,” I scream back as we continue on through the darkness of the woods. It's about three miles to the nearest public road, and then I'll officially be off club property and close to the freeway exit. Heh. I can't believe I stole a Daybreaker's bike for my big getaway. That action alone puts a high price on my head. “After that, I don't care what you do.”
Grey doesn't say anything for a while, but I’m not surprised: I know I've literally pushed him to his limit. I ignore him, focusing on controlling the massive piece of chrome between my thighs. I may have grown up in a biker gang, but I can count the times I’ve driven a bike on my own on one hand. Actually, I’ve never ridden one of the club’s motorcycles. It’s against the rules for a woman to drive her own bike. Bunch of prehistoric caveman bullshit. Instead, I took lessons with Reba’s cousin, Ryan, when he came to visit last summer.
That’s it.
I’m literally riding on a wing and a prayer right now. There’s not much between me and wrapping this bike around a tree except for pure, unfiltered fear … and a strangely desperate need to live. I didn’t even know I had it in me, that I cared this much. It’s a big fucking shock.
“Take me with you,” Grey shouts after a while, his voice like gravel. I can barely hear him over the breeze, but as I pause at the stop sign, checking for semi-trucks before pulling out, I answer in the brief break from the wind.
“No fucking way,” I snap, taking a right and heading for the freeway. Once I get out of here, I'm going straight to the Portland International Airport. I've stolen enough cash from Cat to get a one-way ticket the fuck out of here. Leaving the country is my best option. Maybe. I hope. But there's no other choice: there's no life here with Cat. There's no life for me if I murder some goddamn kid.
“I snitched on my fucking family,” Grey chokes out, sounding much sharper, much more alert than he did in the cabin. He digs his bloodied, nail-less fingers into the front of my leather jacket. His face is still pretty, even with his nose crooked and broken, his eyes swollen and purple, his lower lip split. I wonder if we were normal kids, in a normal school, with normal families … maybe we'd have dated? Maybe he'd take me to the prom?
Hilarious.
“No chance,” I shout back, and he looks away sharply. He's right though. He did snitch. And his family, they'll kill him as fast as the club will if they catch up to us. “I'll take you to the airport,” I amend finally, “and give you money for a cab. I'm guessing you don't have an ID, so a flight is out of the question.”
“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible above the roar of the engine as we approach the main road, and I flick the headlights on.
I’m on edge, waiting for the sound of rumbling bikes, for my doom riding for me on beasts made of steel and darkness.
I purse my lips, and I refuse to think about Crown or Sin, Beast or Grainger.
Who cares about them anyway? They don't mean shit to me.
I may not ever have known how big of a lie that was if I hadn't turned the corner … and run right into a roadblock.
A roadblock made up of mafia men.
I squeeze the brake as hard as I can, but the road's too wet and I'm going too fast. We turn completely sideways and skid, but the bike ends up rolling anyway. Crown’s beautiful, beautiful Chieftain Classic. I’m so sorry, I think as my head flies forward and hits the handlebars; all I can see are stars. I’m just not that good of a driver.
Thank fuck I know how to handle a fall though.
Grabbing onto Grey’s hands, I throw myself off the side of the bike and roll, my shoulder hitting the ground with a crack and a scream of pain that makes my entire body go numb. We scrape across the ground as the motorcycle flips up on its head and tumbles end over end with the scream of metal, smashing into the black Cadillac that’s idling in the center of the road. There’s a small explosion, a rush of heat and bright, orange light that chases away the shadows.
Grey’s grip loosens on my midsection and we roll apart, skidding across the pavement at such high speeds that I can feel my skin being flayed from the flesh on my legs and hands. If I weren’t wearing a helmet or a leather jacket, I might’ve died. I still might die. There’s blood everywhere; I can taste it. It runs hot and coppery down the back of my throat as I come to a stop on my back. It takes my head a while to realize that I’ve stopped moving, my eyes blinking up at a dark gray sky, watching as the clouds crack and rain comes pouring down in sheets.
Footsteps pad across the wet pavement, shiny black dress shoes that I can barely see through the blood running into my eyes. I think I split my lip. Or worse. No, no, definitely worse. I think I’m in shock.
The footsteps pause beside me, and their owner leans down, giving me my first look at Ivan Wolfe, the Underboss of the Grey Wolfe Mafia, the most powerful man in the organization save Grey’s dad, the Dom. I know this is Ivan from pictures Cat showed me. He's always wanted me to know who my enemies are. Too bad he never showed me a picture of himself.
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