by C. Lymari
Duncan didn’t like that they called his bike a bitch.
“He’s going to get pissed. We lay low, he loses ground.”
“Not our problem.” I shrugged.
If people really knew who ran the Death Disciples, they wouldn’t think twice to cross us.
The moment Gunner told Humberto, the place became tense. “Mi amigo,” he all but growled. “That’s unacceptable.”
“I have to lay low, so the next shipment will take twice as long.”
Humberto pointed the uzi he was testing at Gunner. In a heartbeat, we all drew our guns. Mine was pointed at Humberto’s right-hand man, and I knew Duncan had his pointed at the man behind him ’cause we knew Nate had Humberto covered.
Gunner raised his chin higher. We didn’t fear death. When our time came, well, that was it, and you trusted your brothers would take care of retribution and your kin. That was all the peace of mind a man needed before he died.
Except when you fell in love—that fucking feeling was selfish enough to want to drag whomever you claimed as yours down to hell with you.
Humberto, the crazy fuck, wasn’t fazed by the drawn guns. “You aren’t selling to someone else, mi compa? And delaying my guns?”
“We don’t choose money over loyalty. We keep to our word. I know the wait is long, so we can arrange for double for the next few shipments because I’m pretty sure we are going to keep going like this for a while.”
“Perfecto.” The fucker opened his arms to give Gunner a one-armed hug while still holding the semi in the other hand.
When he pulled back, he looked around at the tense situation, pretending to haven’t noticed it before.
“Amigos, it’s all good.” He then turned to his men. “No va ver plomo.”
When the cartel lowered their arms, we did the same.
We waited and watched as they loaded their trucks with the products and then left. I wasn’t the only one who felt that relief as they drove away, and we were now in the clear.
“Oh, shit, princess,” Nate screeched with a grin on his face.
“What happened?” I asked as I got off my bike and ran to him. I saw Duncan doing the same.
He shoved the phone in my face.
Two things happened. My dick got rock hard, and I got angry. Finley had beat the shit out of Dawn. There was no doubt in my mind it was because of me. Then I got mad because she was in the middle of a fight, putting herself in danger.
“Give me your keys,” I barked at my brother as I handed him the video.
“Fuckkkkk.” He grinned as he nodded meaning that they were on his bike.
I stalked to his bike, straddled it, and pulled the fuck out.
Congratulations, babe, you got my attention.
Finley
I was an idiot.
God, how could I let my hand show? Yeah, I wanted to start a riot, but I went after Dawn. Once Nash heard this, there wouldn’t be a doubt in his mind that I did it because I was jealous.
Fuck.
Andre took me back to the clubhouse, leaving everyone else to deal with the mayhem at the bar.
Once at the clubhouse, I went straight to the garage, where I had left my bike earlier. I needed to work off this anger, and nothing calmed me down like doing maintenance on my bike.
Which reminded me I needed to take the cherry Mustang out for a ride and see how well that baby was doing.
I went around and messed with the sound system, then got to work. “Do I Wanna Know” by Arctic Monkeys was blasting through the garage. My head swayed with the beat.
My ass was on the floor as I wiped dirt from the chrome when the music stopped. I looked up, and there was Nashton. He looked pissed. A fucking thrill ran through me. It was like being jolted alive. Like I was in a coma and his presence suddenly brought me back to life.
“What’s your problem?” I asked as I pretended to ignore him and got back to work.
“What’s my problem?” he asked in disbelief.
“That’s what I asked, but don’t bother answering. I don’t really care,” I told him as I got up.
His eyes bored into me. His stare was like being caressed by hell’s touch. Hot. Burning. Scorching. I’m surprised I didn’t tip over like a fawn.
“You don’t really care?” he repeated with the same tone he had earlier.
“That’s what I said, didn’t I?”
One second he was still a few steps away from me; the next he was pushing me against my bike. One of his hands was behind my neck, gripping me tight, and the other was on my waist.
“Bull-fucking-shit, Fin.”
“Excuse me,” I managed to breathe.
He had heard, and now was mad I beat up his little girlfriend.
He was breathing to the beat of my heart, heavily and rapidly. He was barely in control, and he was most attainable to me when he was out of control, so I wanted him to snap. His fingers traced over the scratches on my face.
“Are you mad? Is this because of your little girlfriend?”
He didn’t answer me. Instead, he kissed me. His mouth fell down on mine and forced me to open up to him. He took what he wanted from me with no remorse. His lips devoured mine, a clash for submission.
Part of me was on cloud nine while the other was sick because after everything he did, I was still letting him have a piece of me.
“Fuck, Finley,” he groaned. “Why can’t I stay away from you?”
My fingers curled against the hair at his nape.
“You had no problem getting rid of me,” I gritted out.
His hand around my waist got tighter, and he lifted me. I held onto his muscular shoulders as he sat me atop my bike.
“You think it was easy for me?” he breathed against my lips. He undid the top of my leathers, and I let him. “To have had you.” His fingers made it to the top of my mound, teasing and testing to see if I would let him explore more. “Kissed you.” He bit my lower lip gently. “Fuck you.” I moaned as he inserted two fingers in me. “Then have to pretend like it meant dick to me?”
He pushed me to the edge of the bike as he finger fucked me with so much anger and self-loathing. I ate it all up, taking it all because it was exactly what I wanted.
His thumb pressed against my clit, and my eyes fluttered.
“Look at me,” he growled.
He let go of my waist, and I brought my hands to the side of the seat to steady myself.
With his fingers in my pussy, he used the other hand to unzip his jeans. I watched as his pants fell down, and he pulled down his black briefs. His dick sprang free. It was long, thick, and looked angry.
“Take off your pants,” he groaned as he stroked himself.
I pulled one side down, then the other. Nash pulled his fingers out from me, and I moaned at the loss of them. He took off my boots and finished ridding me of my leathers.
He brought the tip of his dick to my entrance. It had been so long, and I needed him more than I needed my next breath.
“So pretty and pink,” he murmured, looking at my exposed pussy. “Hold on tight, princess,” he muttered against my neck before he slammed into me. Stars exploded inside my eyes. I saw colors I didn’t even know existed.
“More,” I begged as I held on tight to him. I needed to feel him. I needed for him to hurt me more because nothing beat the pain he caused my heart. The hole he’d left when he removed me from his side.
His hand came to my throat and he forced me to look into his eyes.
He pulled out, and the tip of his cock was at my entrance. “I had this.” He slammed back into me and then pulled out. “I had you.” He slammed back in, only to pull out again. “Why would I ever want someone else?”
He fucked me hard and rough, and all I did was wrap my legs around his waist and hold on for the ride.
“Nash,” I whimpered.
“Fuck, baby.” He kissed my cheek.
He tipped my chin again. I hated looking into his eyes. They were mismatched perfection. Both color
s looked warm and unguarded.
“You’ve always been mine,” he said as he took my mouth in a slow kiss. The kind of kiss that was too soft for the likes of us. A kiss so sweet it didn’t belong to a guy like him. Except he was doing it and giving it all to me.
He pulled back and inserted his thumb into my mouth. I sucked it, and his eyes flared.
He pulled it out and brought it down to my clit and rubbed circles as his pace came faster.
“Come for me, baby. Show me you’re still mine,” he groaned as my moans got louder.
It felt like a tidal wave, the intensity of my orgasm. It shook all of me, the pain and the hurt I was carrying around. It took the betrayal, chaos, and pain and left me feeling peaceful.
Nash started to fuck me harder. My back rested against the seat as he held onto my hips.
“Missed your pussy,” he said as I felt him getting closer. I knew he would pull out because he wasn’t wearing a rubber, but I needed him in me like I needed my next breath.
My legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer.
“Fin,” he groaned.
“I need you in me,” I begged, and he cursed, pumping harder into me until his release coated my walls.
I closed my eyes as I felt his weight land on top of me.
He had fucked me on top of my bike.
Fuck.
I was never going to look at it the same way again.
“Thanks for that,” I said as I pushed him away.
“What the fuck?” he seethed as he pulled away from me. He watched as I pulled my leathers back on. Gross, I was all sticky.
He found me amusing because the fucker was smiling.
“Going somewhere, babe?” he asked as he fixed his pants.
“I’m not your anything. I was just horny.”
He grabbed my wrists, and pulled them up in front of him.
“What the fuck was that, then?” He nodded toward my bike.
“That was just sex. Kinda like what you have with your little whores.” I turned around, straddled my bike, pushed the button for the garage, and rode out.
Chapter Fifteen
Past
It was the anniversary of my dad’s death, and I couldn’t bear to be in the house. They would have a party to honor him, and the club would be there. Axton would throw a grand party to celebrate his dead best friend.
I never really got the need to celebrate a dead person. They didn’t feel anything anymore.
What I did need was Nash, but he wasn’t around. Axton had him running errands. So I left the house and came to the clearing where all the secrets were buried.
It left me with too much to think about how things would be different if my father were here. I knew without a doubt had he been alive, the affair Nash and I were having wouldn’t have happened.
He made me feel too much, and that clouded your judgment.
“Empires aren’t built on feelings, Finley,” my dad said in a stern voice as he looked down at me. “So don’t do something because you have a good feeling about it.”
I nodded, agreeing with him because I didn’t know better.
“There you are,” Huxley interrupted my thoughts.
Since I was sitting on the ground, I had to look up at him. He had grown up, but somehow I missed it because, for me, the boys ceased to exist when Nash was around. He eclipsed them all.
Could I marry him?
I shook my head to rid myself of that thought.
My smile matched his as I greeted him back. Sometimes I forgot about the arrangement, and in moments like these, he was still my best friend. He stood between Nash and me, and he didn’t even know it. He wasn’t aware of the power he held to destroy me, which made me resent him as the years went by. But the blame wasn’t all on him.
“Hey, just needed to get away for a bit,” I told him.
“You came here?” He raised a brow as he sat next to me. “You do know what this place is, right?”
I knew, perhaps better than him.
“My father used to bring me here for meetings,” I confessed.
Huxley’s jaw got hard.
“Your father used to bring you here,” he asked. “Does my father know?”
I turned to look at him. His square jaw was set in a hard line, and his brown eyes had this intensity behind them.
“Axton didn’t like it; he was very vocal about it. When my father died, he rescinded my invitation to join them.”
A part of me hated Axton for that. I was glad my father didn’t treat me any differently because I was a woman. In my opinion, a woman could be more lethal than any man. There was a softness to us that could be sharp enough to kill, and you wouldn’t even know it until after the damage was done.
“I know it sounds crazy, but when I’m here lying on top of the bones of our enemies in the middle of a battlefield, I always feel centered. Because I know that nothing is worse than the madness that lies at our feet.”
Huxley stayed pensive for a while. He didn’t know what to think or what to say. From what I had gathered, he still hadn’t made it to a meeting. Not that he was a pussy. It’s just that he would rather destroy someone from the inside out. Fuck their mind over, and their self-destruction would follow.
He had the face of an angel and the mind of a killer. A lethal combination and something he fought against each day.
“Some people survive chaos, and that’s how they grow,” he said, reciting a poem from one of my favorite modern poets.
“And some people thrive in chaos, because chaos is all they know,” I said, finishing part of my favorite quote.
Huxley reached for my hand, trying to give me comfort. “What would it have been like growing up normal?”
“Normality is not set in stone. It’s all about perception.” My father didn’t let me wonder on what-ifs. There was what could be, and that was a goal to try to reach for, and what already was, was something to accept and make peace with.
“Next time you go to the clearing, I will be there by your side offering my support,” he said.
I squeezed his hand and smiled at him. “That’s really sweet to say. But I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. I am more than strong enough to carry my crown.”
Daddy didn’t raise a pawn; he raised a king.
Huxley just smiled at me. He brought his hand to my cheek and stroked with his thumb.
He stayed looking at me, and the more he did, the more uncomfortable I got.
“I know you don’t,” he said.
I was about to pull my hand away when his face got closer, and I was frozen, scared to move. Not because I wanted him to kiss me but because I already belonged to someone else, even if on paper I was his.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, mortified.
Huxley chuckled, and then his lips fell on mine.
Perhaps I let it happen to see if I felt something, if my fascination with Nashton was something that could be mimicked or duplicated, but sadly, that wasn’t the case.
Although his lips were warm, they didn’t light my soul on fire. They didn’t make me feel like I was coming out of my skin. Like all my demons had free rein over me.
This didn’t mean a thing to me.
Putting my hand on his hard chest, I pushed him away.
Huxley looked like he was on cloud nine. His brown eyes were glittering, and a slow, sensual smile spread across his handsome face. Unfortunately for him, I felt nothing.
“Don’t be shy,” he teased me, trying to go in for another kiss.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked as I got up to not be in his vicinity.
He looked perplexed that I had asked such a question.
“Come on, Fin,” he said as he got up too. He brought a hand behind his neck and scratched. “You have to know how I feel about you.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
Fuck.
I did see it, but I pretended like I didn’t. As if pretending like he didn’t feel anything for me
would help me get out of the mess I had landed in.
“Hux,” I whispered.
He could hear the regret in my voice and see the sorrow on my face. The hard truth was etched on me.
“We’re getting married, Finley,” he whispered harshly.
I sucked in a breath because he now knew. Fuck, I thought I had more time to deal with this. I never took his feelings into consideration because he didn’t know about the arrangement and because I couldn’t keep on pretending like he didn’t have feelings for me.
“You know,” I managed to choke out.
“And you didn’t tell me? Why?”
I tried to say something, but he cut me off.
“You picked me!” he growled. “You want me too.”
He pulled me against him this time for a deeper kiss. There was a snapping of twigs, and I pushed him away. Once I was far enough, I slapped him. He held onto his cheek with regret setting into his eyes.
“How dare you!” I yelled. “I don’t care if I picked you, if I’m with you, or if I love you. You never touch me without my permission again.”
He held onto his cheek and took a step toward me.
“It’s going to be good between us, Fin. I love you.”
It felt like I couldn’t breathe despite being in the open air. I gasped, but I still felt like I was suffocating. I couldn’t answer him, so I ran away. I ran into the woods until I hit a wall.
Only it wasn’t a wall.
It was Nash, and he held me at arm’s length, steadying me but not wanting to get close enough to me.
“Nash,” I said, relieved that he was here, knowing he would make it all better.
But he didn’t do any of that. He was angry. He looked down at me, his eyes icy and cold. He wasn’t the boy I loved, the one who held onto the precarious pieces of my heart.
“He touched you.” He spat the words out like they were venom. “He fucking kissed you.”
“It didn’t mean anything,” I said, trying to touch his face.
“You let him,” he growled.
He let go of me, and it felt like a physical blow.
“It doesn’t even matter,” he said, and I staggered back.
It didn’t matter? He was going to pretend like every touch and kiss didn’t mean a thing?