His Demand: A Dark Small Town Romance (Pine Grove Book 2)

by B. B. Hamel

  Fucking hell. He squeezed me out. He went to war with me and he won.

  And now he’s here to finish the job.

  I bet he didn’t expect me to run. I bet he figured he’d take care of me once he finished mopping everything else up. He figured I’d stay to the bitter end.

  Didn’t figure on me disappearing.

  Fucking bastard. And now here he is, tracking me down.

  I turn and walk slowly back to the house.

  “You make your call?” the old woman asks.

  I nod and head right inside.

  Celine is sitting on the bed, legs up. She’s half asleep when I toss the phone on her.

  She startles awake. “Is everything okay?” she asks me.

  I loom over her, staring down at the beautiful girl. She’s fucking gorgeous and suddenly my desire for her spikes in tandem with my rage.

  “Have you ever been betrayed, Celine?” I ask her softly.

  She shakes her head. “Not really.”

  I reach down and take her chin. I lift it up toward me. “I’m angry,” I say softly. “And I need to take it out on someone.”

  She bites her lip. “You want to take it out on me?”

  “I won’t hurt you, Celine. Not unless you ask me to.”

  She stares into my eyes and when I kiss her, I know exactly what she needs.

  8

  Celine

  I know I should stay away from him. I know I should resist his touch, push him away. I know I should save myself.

  I don’t. I’m not sure I can.

  His fingers pull me against him, up and out of the bed. I stand and kiss him, he teases his tongue against mine, his lips against mine. I hum and buzz and I’m so exhausted I feel like I might fall over.

  But he keeps me standing. He’s like a flame, an ember, burning me to ashes. It feels good, getting burned. I want him to leave nothing behind when he’s finished with me.

  I want him to take me. His hands are like iron on my hips. He’s so angry and I can only understand half of his anger. The other half is a total mystery, hidden somewhere else.

  He pulls my shirt off. He throws it on the floor, practically tears my bra in half. I let it slide onto the floor.

  “You shouldn’t let me touch you,” he whispers in my ear.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’ll never want me to stop.”

  I bite my lip as he kisses my neck. I gasp when he teases my nipples and kisses my lips again.

  “Shit,” I gasp as he pushes me down onto the bed.

  “Take off your pants.”

  I do it slowly. I let him watch me. I don’t mind.

  “Turn around,” he demands.

  I pull my jeans down and his eyes stare at my ass. I feel myself buzzing, bouncing off the walls with excitement, desire, pleasure. I drop them onto the floor and look over my shoulder. His eyes are on my ass and I arch my back, just a little bit, to give him a better view.

  “Panties,” he says.

  I hesitate but slide them off. I’m entirely naked now, entirely exposed.

  “Bend forward.”

  I bend over the bed, palms on the comforter.

  He spreads my legs wider. I watch him walk around me, side to side, admiring my body. He runs his fingers up my side and I shiver.

  “Perfect skin,” he whispers. “How wet are you right now?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Hand between your legs.”

  I obey him, right hand between my legs.

  “Good. Rub yourself nice and slow now, Celine.”

  I rub my clit in slow circles. I let out a little pant, a soft moan. It feels good, made even more intense by his gaze.

  “Fingers inside,” he says.

  I press two deep inside of me. I groan a little bit.

  “Now, taste them.”

  I look at him. “What?”

  “Fingers in your mouth, Celine.” He steps up to me, grabs my hair, pulls my head back.

  I groan and slowly put my fingers in my mouth as he holds me there. He watches me lick my fingers clean, sucking off my own wet pussy.

  “Good,” he whispers and spanks my ass.

  I gasp, more from surprise than pain. I put my palms flat and grip the sheets.

  He does it again.

  “Your pretty skin is going to look good all pink and spanked,” he says softly. “Do you know what it means to hurt, Celine?”

  I think about my mother. I think about coming here, starting over. “Yes,” I say.

  “Maybe,” he answers. “Maybe you do.” He kneels down behind me, pushing me forward more. He spreads my ass wide. “But I’ve lost everything, Celine. I’ve had it all taken from me.” I feel him kiss my thighs, moving up to my pussy.

  I feel his tongue tease me from behind. I groan as he licks up around my ass, licking every inch of my skin.

  “I’ve had it all taken from me,” he whispers. “Stolen, destroyed. I was betrayed by my best friend and partner. Do you know that kind of pain, Celine?”

  “No,” I groan as his tongue does its dirty work, licking around my ass and pussy.

  “I’m so angry,” he whispers. “Do you know that kind of anger?”

  “No,” I groan.

  I feel him spank my ass again. I gasp and he slides two fingers deep inside of me.

  “No, you don’t. You’ll get a taste of it, though. Because the truth is, you’re the only person I can trust right now.”

  I groan as he fucks my pussy with my fingers. He spanks my ass again, harder this time. It stings a little, but the pleasure of his fingers balances it out. More pleasure rolls down my body as he presses his fingers in deep and grabs my hair tight.

  “Pretty little Celine,” he whispers. “Look at your virgin pussy now. Dripping wet and spread wide.”

  He pulls his fingers back and spanks me. I groan and shiver with pleasure as he steps back. I hear his belt open and I look back to see him take his jeans off, his shirt, his boxer briefs.

  He takes his huge cock in his hand and strokes himself. His eyes are fire and anger and lust. I wiggle my hips, my heart pounding with anticipation.

  He slaps my ass again and I feel the tip of him tease my open and soaking pussy.

  “Little Celine,” he purrs. “Not a virgin anymore, are you?”

  And he sinks himself inside of me.

  I gasp, back arching. It feels good, so good. Pleasure rolls through me as he sinks himself deeper inside of me. I can feel my pussy stretching wide to take him and I grip the comforter tighter.

  I moan into the blankets as he strokes into me. Long, hard, rough strokes into my wet pussy. I groan, moving back against him as he starts to fuck me faster.

  He’s not being gentle this time. I can feel it, there’s nothing gentle about his rough and long strokes. He slaps my ass nice and hard and fucks me, grabbing onto my hips.

  I gasp and groan as he slides in and out.

  “Fucking hell, love,” he groans in my ear. “Your cunt is so goddamn tight I could come right this instant. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want me to fill you up with my cum, leave you dripping.”

  I groan and roll my hips in response. He grabs my hair and fucks me faster, controlling me, dominating me.

  I know he can do whatever he wants with me now. Dawson is powerful, intense, muscular. He can take me however he wants, do whatever he wants, and I won’t fight him. I’ll roll over and beg for more because right now, the only thing keeping me alive is his cock between my legs.

  It’s funny, how pleasure can suddenly replace a bad thing. It’s why people lose themselves in drugs. This right here, this is my drug.

  His big, hard cock, pumping in and out of my tight pussy. That’s my fucking drug.

  I moan as he fucks me. I take him deep inside as he spanks my ass again, not holding back.

  He groans and pulls back. “Come here,” he growls, pulling me off the bed. I get on my knees in front of him and suck my pussy juice from his cock, licki
ng every inch of his big shaft, reaching deep down as far as I can.

  I gag and suck him faster. He teases my breasts and groans, holding my hair tight. He fucks my mouth, cock sliding in and out of my lips.

  He pulls me back and kisses me. “Pretty girl,” he coos, “with a fat cock in your mouth.”

  He grabs me back to the bed. This time, he puts me in his lap, makes me straddle him. I wrap my arms around his neck and slide back down along his shaft. I shudder, moan, and start to writhe along his length. His eyes meet mine and I can tell that he’s as hot as I am.

  I ride his dick. I might not know what I’m doing, but that doesn’t matter. I have his big hands on my hips and ass to guide me. I roll myself along him, grinding against him, kissing his lips, letting him tease my nipples with his teeth. I groan and grind back down along his shaft over and over again.

  He spreads my ass wide, spanks me, fucks me. I feel sweat on my skin and he licks it up. He whispers in my ear. “Every inch of this pretty little cunt is mine.”

  He’s right, every inch is his, all his.

  I ride Dawson faster, moaning. He palms my breasts, teasing my hard nipples. I can feel the pleasure mounting, building, and we’re fucking like animals, writhing against each other, sweat and spit and cum.

  He rolls me over onto my back, spreads my legs, and fucks me. I groan as my breasts bounce from his big, hard thrusts. My eyes roll back as I take him, pleasure rocking through my skin.

  I dig my fingers into his back and wrap my legs around his hips. I feel him grinding into me, grinding against my clit, fucking my pussy rough and deep. I’m so wet that he slides so easily into me, filling me, spreading me wide. I groan and writhe and let him fuck me so rough I can barely think.

  I rock my hips and he whispers in my ear. “Fucking hell, love,” he says. “You feel so goddamn good. I’m going to teach you to make this pussy come for me. I’m going to teach you to love it when it hurts, when I slap your ass, when I pull your hair. I’m going to teach you to get down on your knees and suck this cock like it’s the only thing on earth you were born to do. I’m your man, little Celine. And you’re all mine, love.”

  “Yes,” I whisper back, over and over. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  I come hard as he fucks me. My whole body shakes, trembles with desire. As I come, he fucks my pussy faster, hands on my shoulders, pushing me against him.

  I run my fingers down his back. I bet it hurts. I want it to hurt. I don’t care about anything else. I only want this, his body fucking me, my whole world a pinprick of pleasure and intense desire.

  I feel him come moments later. I feel him fill me up, making my orgasm more intense, more incredible.

  We finish slowly. We’re both sweating, breathing deep. He kisses me gently, bites my lip a little bit. He makes me laugh.

  This killer, this animal, he makes me laugh.

  I don’t get up to shower this time. I don’t care about that. I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight as finally we both fall asleep.

  9

  Dawson

  I sleep through to the next morning. Hours gone in the blink of an eye. Precious hours, time I should’ve spent out on the hunt.

  Doesn’t matter, though. I climb out of bed and look at Celine. It’s just after five and she’s still breathing peacefully.

  I head outside and grab the emergency bag I keep packed in the bed of my truck at all times. It has spare clothes, spare cash, and most importantly, spare guns.

  I slip a pistol and its silencer into my jeans and head back inside.

  “You finally up?” the owner asks me as I pass the kitchen. “Got coffee if you want some.”

  I nod at her and climb the steps. Celine’s starting to stir as I sit down in a chair in the corner of the room, fingering the gun.

  She slowly sits up, morning light grazing her perfect lips.

  “Hey,” she says, still groggy. “What time is it?”

  “Five thirty,” I say. “We slept for a while.”

  “Huh.” She falls back down onto the bed and stretches. “I guess you take it out of me.”

  I smile a little bit. “That and digging a grave.”

  That seems to sober her up a bit. She sits up again and glares at me.

  I smile back.

  “What are we doing today?” she asks.

  “I was thinking about that,” I say softly. “The way I see it, Marcus will never let us go. Either he’s dead or we’re dead. No use in sitting around and waiting, is there?”

  She bites her lip. “I guess not.”

  “So we might as well go on the hunt.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Hunt?”

  “That’s right, little love.” I get up and stretch before walking over to her. I kiss her gently on the top of the head. “Old lady downstairs has some coffee. Come on down and get some.”

  She watches as I slip back into the hall. I can’t read her expression, but I can only guess what it says.

  “I thought we were hiding.”

  I glance at her. We’re on the road, driving back into Pine Grove. “We are.”

  “But we’re also hunting.”

  “We’re doing that, too.”

  “Doesn’t make sense.”

  “You don’t know Marcus.” I sigh a little. “He won’t give up. Trust me. The only way to get out of this is to kill him before he kills us.”

  She goes quiet for a few minutes. I let her stew on that for a bit.

  I know what she’s thinking. I don’t blame her. Yesterday I was saying how we need to hide out, but after talking with Omar, I know that’s not really an option.

  If Marcus really did betray me, that means he wants me dead for real. There was some part of me that hoped Marcus could be reasoned with. Maybe there was some miscommunication somewhere. Maybe he thought I was the one that got him killed.

  Now I know that was wishful thinking. Marcus planned this all and killing me is the last piece of that plan. He’s not the type to back down from a plan.

  Which is why we’re going to have to take some risks. Otherwise, we’re just sitting ducks, waiting for Marcus to come find us.

  I only wish I didn’t have Celine to worry about. I can’t leave her back in that room, in case Marcus happens to find us somehow. She has to tag along with me, which means she’s going to slow me down.

  Nothing I can do about it.

  “How did I get dragged into this?” she asks quietly, almost to herself.

  “You went home with the wrong man.”

  She laughs a little. “Yeah. Probably.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “Probably?”

  She gives me a grin. “Well, if I weren’t doing this, what else would I be doing?”

  I stare at her as she laughs a little bit. Maybe she’s a little more intense than I gave her credit for. Or maybe she’s just a little crazy.

  Either way, I like it.

  We pull up to Hammy’s and park across the street. I kill the engine, but I don’t get out.

  “What are we doing here?” she asks me.

  “Waiting.”

  “For what? It doesn’t open for a few hours.”

  “I know.”

  She sighs. “What are we waiting for?”

  I look at her and lean across the truck. I get close to her. “This stuff, it’s not all exciting. It’s not all shooting and killing. You know that, right?”

  She makes a face. “What do you mean?”

  “Hunting takes patience. We have to wait for Marcus to show up.”

  “He might not come here.”

  “No, he might not. But if he’s looking for you, I bet he does.”

  She bites her lip. “How are you so sure he knows who I am? I mean, it all happened so fast.”

  “You don’t know him.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “And it’s true.” I sit back and cross my arms. “Might as well get comfortable, love.”

  She sighs and looks out the window, resigned to her fate
.

  Staking someplace out isn’t exciting. We mostly sit in the truck, keeping a low profile, staring out the windows. We’re close enough that I won’t miss if someone goes in through the front, but far enough away that we won’t be noticed.

  It’s a delicate balance, but I always was good at this.

  Hours slowly melt past. Celine isn’t having any fun, I can tell. I’m tempted to send her off on some errand, but I know we can’t split up. I can’t let her out of my sight, not even for a second.

  Otherwise, she might get grabbed, and then the game will be over for sure.

  I almost like sitting around, doing nothing with her. It brings me back to my old days when I was just getting started. Marcus and I would stake out competitors like this for hours, sometimes days or weeks, getting to know their operation.

  Then we’d kill all the fuckers and steal their stash.

  Those were the good old days. Drugs and fucking and blood and money, that was all I ever cared about.

  Now, things are different. I had friends, people I took care of. I have Celine.

  God damn. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I were more of a fucking monster than I already am.

  More like Marcus.

  Most of the day drifts past and I don’t spot anything out of the ordinary. Hammy’s opens relatively early and the regulars drift in like flies to honey.

  “Always this crowded on a weekday afternoon?” I ask her.

  She shrugs. “A lot of people out of work around here. A lot of retired guys living on their pension.”

  “So lots of people with lots of time.”

  “Yeah. And some odd ones, too.”

  “Like who?”

  She hesitates. “This one guy. Nobody talks to him, and he doesn’t talk to anyone. Just comes in every day with this bright white hair and this really sour look on his face, like he hates where he is.”

  “Sounds odd,” I say.

  “A lot of people are odd in this town.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “Wonder why that is?”

  I shrug slowly. “Who knows? I picked Pine Grove off a map randomly, thought it would be a good peace to disappear.”

  “I guess you were wrong.”