Boldly placed right on his shoulder was a skull shrouded in shredded fabric with a large cross in the background. I knew from Wes’s research that this was the Phantom Saints’ mark, and I’d seen it on the back of all their cuts. Flowing down from that was smoke that broke into a sketch of a gargoyle, followed by other gothic artwork. To me it looked like the tattoo artist used someone’s rough-drawn pencil sketch as reference. It was beautiful and haunting, making my fingers twitch with the need to trace over them with my own hands.
“See something you like?” Teo asked, snapping me out of my fixation. The smirk on his face gave me all sorts of dirty ideas of what I would like to do to those lips.
What was going on with me? It’s like my brain decided to turn into a horny teenager lusting after anything that was available.
“Your tattoos are amazing,” I said, pausing to clear my throat. “Who did them?”
Teo looked down at his arm as if he had forgotten that he even had tattoos. “Mark Mahoney.”
“Holy shit, you’re kidding me!” I gasped. Mark Mahoney was a legend. “How the hell did you manage that? That man is booked out a year in advance!”
“He used to do a lot of tattooing for bikers back in the day, and when I sent him the artwork I drew for it, he found a spot for me.” Teo grinned as he set a plate of food in front of me.
I snatched his arm to get a closer look before he could pull it back. The combination of Mark’s tattooing skill and Teo’s drawings was a perfect storm of beauty. Giving into my desires, I let my fingers whisper over his skin, causing Teo to take a sharp inhale. I flicked my gaze up at the sound, finding Teo’s eyes filled with a hunger that wouldn’t be fixed with food.
“You are very talented. Is that how you got the name Picasso?” I asked, relishing in his attention.
He shrugged and broke eye contact with me. “Not the most creative, but it fits.”
Letting go of his arm, I looked down at the food he made me. “Um, Teo—sorry, Picasso—what is this, exactly?”
“My specialty—egg in a hole,” he said, puffing out his chest.
I picked up the toast with the fried egg in the middle and took a large bite. Surprisingly, it was the perfect combination of flavors, and I hummed to myself as I gobbled down the rest. Not wanting the meal to end, I licked my fingers, not leaving any trace of it behind. Food was a surefire way to win me over, and Picasso was well on his way to accomplishing that.
Being a talented-as-fuck artist might have also helped some.
“Hated it, didn’t you,” Picasso chuckled.
“It was absolute shit,” I teased, grinning at him. “I think you need to try that again and learn how to improve this disaster.”
Without warning, a hard chest pressed to my back and hands settled on my hips, causing me to stiffen.
Fuck!
“What do we have here?” a silky voice said in my ear. “It’s not every day we get graced with such a lovely sight in our kitchen.”
How could I have let my guard down so easily? Normally I was extremely hard to sneak up on, but somehow Picasso had managed to lull me into relaxing my guard.
Pull your shit together, woman. You’re not here to flirt and have a good time. You’re a prisoner that they are trying to get information out of. LOCK IT UP!
I slid one hand over his, leaning into him and getting him to relax as he started to nuzzle into my neck. “Sounds to me like you need to raise the standard of women you let sleep over.”
His grip tightened, snaking around my waist and causing me to react out of instinct. Swiftly, I grabbed his thumb and yanked it back, using it to twist his whole arm and bring him to his knees for the second time since we met.
“You really need to stop ending up like this with me,” I pouted, looking down at him.
“Dax,” Picasso said, walking slowly around the counter. “Let Cognac go. He’s an idiot, but a harmless one.”
I looked up at him, this time with my reality fresh in my mind, keeping my guard up. “He needs to learn that not every woman welcomes being touched so casually. I’m no hang-about for your club members to use.”
“You didn’t seem to mind so much on the dance floor,” Cognac said, trying to play off the pain my hold had him in.
I frowned, letting him know he wasn’t helping himself. “That was before I knew you were part of a biker gang and kidnapped me. Makes me a little more prickly than usual.”
“Just think of it as foreplay and it won’t sound so bad,” Cognac suggested. “Some women love the excitement.”
In answer, I twisted his thumb farther, causing him to land on his ass to keep me from breaking it.
“What if he promises he won’t touch you again unless you initiate contact?” Picasso asked.
“Do you promise?” I asked, arching a brow at Cognac.
I found it interesting that the vice president of a renowned badass biker gang was trying to reason with me rather than force me to bend to his will. Every MC I’d had experience with acted like women were to be seen and not heard, following their command without question. Men know best, after all… Not!
“I promise. Only because it won’t be long until I’ll have you begging me to touch you, loba.”
Growling at him, I tossed his hand away from me, not wanting to deal with him any longer. I snatched up my coffee and wandered away from them to look at the rest of the house. Farther back past the living room was another bedroom, a large master suite. I would put money on this being Eagle’s room because it was as meticulous as he was. Did the rest of the guys live here too, or somewhere else? Hearing someone walking down the hall and opening the bedroom door, I braced for it to be the man himself, but it wasn’t.
“You really shouldn’t be here,” a soft voice said.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said, continuing to look over the books on Eagle’s bookshelf.
“He hates for anyone to be in his private quarters. Even Picasso doesn’t come in here without being invited.”
I looked over my shoulder to find the last member of the five leaders. I knew better than to take his gentle demeanor at face value. You didn’t end up as road captain, in charge of leading dozens of surly bikers safely to their destinations on long trips, without merit.
“Sprocket, right?” I asked, and he nodded his head. “I’ll worry about not pissing off the president when he isn’t holding me here against my will. Until then, I will go wherever I goddamn please.”
His sharp green eyes watched me as if he could figure me out if he studied me longer. I noticed the duffle bag that he was holding and remembered that he was the one charged with getting me clothes.
“Whatcha got in the bag?” I inquired, trying not to seem too interested.
The corners of his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile as he held the bag out to me. “Found some things for you while you’re staying with us.”
More than ready to get out of this dress and take a shower, I took the offered duffle and headed right for Enzo’s bathroom, not trusting the one upstairs to be as clean as this one would be. Sprocket made some sound of protest, but I ignored it and locked the door behind me.
The bathroom was a typical master bathroom with two sinks, shower tub, and toilet. I grinned to myself as I looked at the tub. Back home I had a huge tub with jets that I used at least one or twice a week. I loved me my bubble baths—very therapeutic—and I needed that after the past twenty-four hours. I turned on the water as hot as I could stand and let it fill as I stripped out of my dress.
Looking in the mirror, I gasped at the horrible raccoon eyes I had going on from sleeping in my makeup. Searching for a washcloth to clean up with, I started to open all the drawers and cabinets. Secretly I was hoping I would find some juicy secret or something hidden away, but nope. Just the normal bathroom shit anyone would need. Finally finding extra towels, I grabbed a set since I was going to need them anyway, then washed my face in the sink before slipping into the scalding water with a sigh.
>
Resting my head against the wall, I let my eyes close as I processed everything. Wes would know from the text that I was okay, held against my will, and compromised from leaving in some way. Knowing that he was out there working on a way to get me out of this fucked-up situation made this all seem less troublesome. After six years of working in the Hidden Empire, you would think I would be used to shit like this.
After my brother died, I needed to find a way to make them all pay for what they did to him. That’s when Tricks came into the picture. With the Hidden Empire backing me, I was able to destroy the drug ring and the Blackjax, making sure they knew exactly why they were losing everything they ever loved or cared about. Two Tricks absorbed their business into the Hidden Empire, and it was the start of Trick’s rise in the underworld. Now no one fucked with Tricks or the Empire’s people unless they had a death wish. Yet here I was with a shock collar on my ankle, waiting for a rescue like some damn Disney princess.
I could just kill them all—that would solve my problem. Take out the leadership, have Wes get this shit off me, and set the whole place on fire. I’d taken out a whole organizations for lesser offenses, so why was I even playing along with this whole situation?
The sound of the bathroom door being kicked in jarred me out of my musings. Opening my eyes, I glared at whoever decided to crash my relaxation time. Eagle stomped up to me in the tub, eyes flashing with anger.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing in my goddamn tub?!”
I let myself appreciate him for a moment before answering. Trying to hold back his anger caused him to flex his whole upper body, and it was a sight to see. His shirt was molded to his skin like it was just a little too small.
“What anyone does in a tub—I’m taking a bath,” I chirped.
Enzo lunged at me, grabbing me by my hair and pulling me up so he could adjust his grip to my throat. Water splashed over the side of the tub and onto the floor, pooling around his black leather boots. I didn’t fight him, wanting to see what he would do and how strong his control on his anger really was. The feel of his rough hand on my neck was more of a turn-on for me than something I feared. I could easily get out of this, but did I really want to? If he was smart, he would know that if I was killed, he’d be signing a death sentence for his whole club.
“Don’t test me,” Enzo snarled, looming over me. “I am not a merciful man, and you have stepped into my domain. What happens now is your doing.”
Just when I thought I might have misread the whole situation, Enzo’s lips crashed into mine. His hold on my throat held me against the wall as he took from me what he wanted, showing my lips little mercy—and I loved it.
I moaned under his harsh attention, my body flooding with need. Wanting him to know that I was all in for where this was headed, I wrapped one leg around him, tugging him closer. Dropping his hand from my neck, he grabbed my ass and lifted me, pinning me against the wall with his hips. Clutching at his shirt, I gave as good as I got, nipping at his lips hard enough to make him hiss. One hand reached up and tweaked my nipple harshly, making me cry out, his mouth smothering my sounds.
Turning, he plopped me down on the counter and ripped off his shirt. The Phantom Saints symbol was boldly tattooed on the middle of his chest. I let my fingers wander over his skin, feeling the smooth muscle shifting under my touch. Seconds later he was naked, and his dick stood proudly on display. I’d seen a fair share of cocks in my day, but this man made me wonder if it would even fit into my small body.
Enzo stepped back into me, letting his dick rest against my stomach. “I don’t rape women, no matter how pissed off I am, so I’ll give you two seconds to push me away and leave. Otherwise I am going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, let alone run away from me.”
I shuddered at his words, the thrill of them making me even more wet than I already was. My brain screamed that we shouldn’t do this, that it would cloud my judgment to let him take me, but I pushed away my worries. I’d already known what choice I was going to make the moment he entered the bathroom. These men used women; they didn’t keep them. So I was just going to follow their example and take what I needed.
Placing my hand on his chest, I pushed him back enough that I could slip off the counter. I looked up at him, but he closed his eyes and looked away, expecting me to leave. Instead, I grasped his dick and gave it a firm squeeze, pumping it a few times and making him growl. I could feel the sound of it coming from his chest, and it pushed me to make him do it again. Dropping to my knees, I held his dick in one hand and braced my other on his hip. I peered up at him and gave him a wolfish grin before I took him into my mouth, quick and deep.
He was so large that I couldn’t manage it all, but I didn’t let that stop me from trying. Working him with my hand and mouth, I relished the groans that were coming from his throat. He grabbed a handful of hair and tried to force my head down on his dick, but I reminded him who was in charge by letting my teeth scrape along the thin skin, making him flinch. Pulling back, I let his dick pop out of my mouth and looked up again.
“Sorry, Mr. President, but you’re not gonna get off that easy,” I said as he growled at me for stopping.
Apparently not liking my answer, he grabbed me by the throat again and bent me over the counter. He shifted so he was holding me down with a hand between my shoulders as he lined up behind me. I watched in the mirror as he thrust into me, not even checking to see if I was ready for him. I cried out my pleasure, feeling his fullness between my legs. If he hadn’t pinned me down, I’m not sure my legs could have supported me. One hand on my hip, he thrust into me, the sounds of flesh colliding and panting filling the air. I tried to find something to hold onto as he slammed into me, setting my body on fire.
Never having been shy when it came to sex, I had experimented a fair share, and the blurred line between pain and pleasure was always a favorite. Being a badass all the time made it difficult to find a guy to fuck you into oblivion that wasn’t just a little scared of you. Enzo didn’t give a fuck who I was in this moment, and I was living for it. Feeling the build start, I pushed back on his thrusts, forcing him even deeper.
“Fuck yes!” I yelled when he slapped my ass.
Enzo bent over so his chest covered mine as he kissed and bit at my neck. “You will learn your place here, little hellcat, even if I have to show you every day where it is.” Surprising me, he bit down harder on my shoulder as he sped up his thrusts.
I screamed as my orgasm took me under, causing me to shatter under him. Not caring, he powered through it, keeping up a pounding pace and sending me into another release. This time he followed me, clutching my hips and holding me tight against him as he moaned above me. I lay limp on the counter, a sheen of sweat covering my body as I tried to remember how to breathe. Enzo pulled out of me and scooped me up to set me on the toilet. Silently, I watched him as he drained the tub and started the shower.
Coming back to me, he picked me up like I was a doll and stepped under the water. He set me on my feet but held me against his chest, steadying me. The water helped to clear my mind of the orgasmic bliss and bring me back into my body. I moved to stand on my own and put space between us, but Enzo’s fingers dug into my hips, holding me where I was. I looked up at him, confused, and was shocked to see a look of possessiveness in his eyes. A new tingle of fear curled into the pit of my stomach. Never did I think that this volatile president of an MC would see what we did as anything other than purely physical.
“Enzo, you need to let go of me,” I said, putting a warning edge to my voice.
Enzo caught my chin, forcing me to look at him, his painful hold almost causing me to whimper. “Don’t let me hear you say that name again if you want to avoid me testing out your new accessory.”
Like a switch had been flipped, his sexy dominance turned into alarming reality. I was always on the edge of a knife with this man, and I couldn’t afford to keep forgetting that. Sex would only bridge the gap so far when he didn’t s
ee women as equals. That fact was always going to cause us to clash.
I sighed, causing him to frown at not getting the reaction he’d expected. Slapping his hand off my face, I yanked the arm back behind me, causing him to pitch forward. This allowed me to wrap my other arm around his neck and twist, rolling him out of the shower and taking the shower curtain down with him.
“Test that shit on me and see how that goes for you, Enzo.” I stepped over him, grabbing my towel and duffel before marching out of the bathroom.
I paused when I saw Cognac and Picasso in the living room, watching something on the TV. Both of them looked over at me when I entered the room. Picasso’s eyebrows rose in shock at seeing me wet and in a towel. Cognac, on the other hand, took his time looking me over as if he was trying to burn it into his brain for later. Huffing out a breath, I held my head high and walked right past them and up the stairs. I still really needed a shower, so I headed for the bathroom first.
After taking the quickest shower of my life, I looked through the bag of clothes. Surprisingly, Sprocket had gotten things that would fit, even if the shorts barely covered my ass cheeks. The black short-sleeve shirt was soft and hung off one shoulder. Thankfully, I didn’t really need to wear a bra, and since I didn’t see one in the bag, I went without. Slipping on the pair of flip flops, I made my way back to the bedroom I woke up in and found Picasso laying on the bed.
“You’ve had a very busy morning, haven’t you?” Picasso said, not opening his eyes.
“Another reason I don’t like to be up before eleven. Too much time to get into trouble,” I grumbled, putting the other clothes from the bag in the dresser.
Two Tricks (Hidden Empire Book 1) Page 5