It isn’t Brian and Alanah who are playing a sick game on me.
It’s him. The boy currently pinning me to the bed. Patrick Bloody O’Brien.
Sergio warned me about him. Carly warned me. Even Alanah warned me in her own way.
“Just join us, Alanah,” Paddy urges her. Trapped in a room with two upset females, he should sound worried. He doesn’t. To me, he sounds like he’s in his element. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”
He looks down at me. I recoil from the maliciousness that radiates from his contorted features.
“Tell her, Anita,” he suggests in a way that makes it clear it’s not a simple request. He will hurt me if I don’t cooperate. “Tell her how much fun she’ll have with us.”
Moving between my legs, he grinds his jean-clad bulge against my panties. I cry out and try to wriggle away until he takes hold of my throat and leans down next to my ear.
“If you fuck this up for me, I’ll kill you.”
I believe him.
Facing Alanah, I swallow down the bile that’s rising up my throat and offer her a tiny smile. She shakes her head, her mouth opening in a silent plea for me to stop.
“He’s ri-ght,” I stammer. Paddy let’s go of my throat when my words come out as a garbled mess so the next thing I say comes out clearly. “It’ll be fun.”
My friend claps her hand over her mouth and crawls off the bed. Paddy lunges for her. He grabs her ankle, but loses his grip when I bite his side, just below his ribs.
Alanah yanks her door open. It slams against the wall and she runs out of her bedroom. Paddy gets to his feet, holding his side. He looks down at me, his desire to punish me pinching his features, before he spins away from me and runs after Alanah.
My head hurts. The effects of the pills I popped is long gone. My body shakes, but I push to my feet anyway.
I need to get out of this room.
I need to find help for Alanah.
The party is still in full swing when I emerge from the hallway. People turn to stare at me, their mouths dropping open like Alanah’s did. I can’t work out why until a boy pushes past me and I feel his arm brush my bare breast. Quickly re-fastening my top, I try to decide whether Alanah would have run out the front door or the back. She’s definitely not in the house. Her blonde hair would stick out in the crowd due to her height. There’s no way she would be able to blend in with the other partiers.
Her backyard seems like the best bet. That’s where I would have run to if I was being chased. I push my way through the throngs of people until I find the back door. A group of party-goers in various states of alcohol intoxication surround a fire pit in the middle of the yard. None of them bother to check out the newcomer, leaving me free to quickly search for Alanah.
She’s not here. Neither is Paddy.
Turning to head back inside, I realise that the male form lying on the ground by himself hasn’t moved. The patches on the leather vest he wears are indistinguishable, but his dark-blond hair is familiar.
Too familiar.
Before I can stop myself, I’ve walked over to him and dropped to my knees next to him. He doesn’t make a sound when I jostle him with two hands. I place two fingers on the pulse point at the side of his neck and gasp when I can’t immediately find his heartbeat.
Thankfully, I feel the rapid beating against my fingers before I decide to scream for help. His heart is racing so fast that his pulse feels like a never-ending thrumming instead of the distinct beats it should be. The sound of muffled breathing is the next thing I notice, followed by a low choking sound.
It takes all my strength to roll him onto his side. Brian’s eyes are closed. He has wet dirt—almost mud—surrounding his mouth. I push two fingers between his lips and make sure his airway is clear. My fingers are dirty when I pull them free, but I’m satisfied that he can breathe properly.
“Brian,” I say, shaking him. “Wake up.”
A dry groan is the first positive response I receive.
It’s enough.
I push him onto his back and climb over him. Hiking up my skirt and lowering my weight onto his hips, uncaring that my panties are on display in this position, I take hold of his shoulders and shake him as hard as I can.
It takes twenty or so seconds, but his eyes open and he looks at me. There’s so much pain in his gaze that I can’t take it. Pushing aside the crappy happenings of tonight, I press my lips against his and close my eyes.
Brian’s arms slide around my waist and he forces our bodies together. His embrace is like a steel band holding me. It’s the best feeling—eliminating the residual remnants of Paddy’s assault. My hollowed heart refills and I wish I could stay like this with him forever.
“Nita,” his voice is raspy when he says my name. “Promise me you’re real.”
Kissing his lips over and over, I vow in a fervent whisper, “I’m real. I’m real. I’m real.”
“Thank fuck. Thought I’d lost you.”
Raising my head so I can look him over properly, I search his face. Something’s not right with him. It doesn’t take long to work out what.
Brian is high. Going by the dilation of his pupils and the racing of his pulse, I’d say he’s on cocaine. It’s not a drug I’ve ever messed with—I much prefer the ecstasy of MDMA over anything else—however I’ve seen enough of it at the Ugly Bastards clubhouse to recognise the signs.
“Can you stand?”
He nods, then grabs his head with a grimace. I wait, keenly observing his movements to determine if he’s okay to walk. He’s free of bruising and swelling so I decide that he should be fine.
Retaking my feet, I hold my hands out to him. Brian waves them away and gets up under his own steam. I expect him to walk away from me now that he’s back upright.
He doesn’t.
Instead, Brian grips my waist with strong fingers and lifts me into the air. He lowers me over his pelvis and starts walking for the house. I circle my arms around his neck and squeeze my legs around his hips. The tight hold he maintains on me and the steady stride he walks with calms my worries that he’s too high to understand who I am.
Deep down, in a dark recess of my brain that I rarely venture near, the hope I’d always stored for us is resuscitated back to life. It grows wings and takes flight during our journey, becoming a fully-fledged, living and breathing, wish by the time he closes the door to his bedroom behind us.
“Stay there,” he commands after he deposits me on his bed.
I look around his room, taking in the Harley posters and the neat, almost military-level organisation. My surveillance is aborted when he strips his dirty boots and clothes off and returns to me wearing only tight boxer briefs.
The six-pack I’d felt beneath his clothes too many months ago is eye level when he stops in front of me. Leaning back, I run my eyes all over his enormous, well-built body, from his ripped abdomen to his handsome face and all the way back down to his feet.
“Like what you see?”
Nodding, I bite down on my bottom lip when he grins at me. My face—a tell-tale barometer of my emotions—heats up. I drop my gaze from his face, regretting that decision immediately when I end up eyeballing his hardening package. Unable to control the warmth that spreads through my lower belly, I rub my thighs together, then try to push past him when it doesn’t help the foreign sensation dissipate.
I need to get out of here. I can’t handle another rejection from him.
“You don’t get to run this time,” Brian states with heat. He pins me to the bed by my shoulders, then nudges my chin with a soft touch until I lift my head and meet his eyes again. “You’ll hear me out, then you’ll have your say, and we’ll work out where we’re going from there. Understand?”
“Yes.” What other answer could I give him? There is nowhere else I’d rather be.
His green eyes gleam with glee. “Good.”
Crouching in front of me, Brian urges my knees apart with his hands. I concede quickly. He m
aneuvres his big body between my thighs and hugs me to him. For a long moment, I hold myself aloof, uncertain if he wants my touch in return, until my palms burn with need and I slide them over his ribs and around his back.
I feel a shudder ripple through his body. I hold him tighter when it doesn’t stop.
“I’m a fuck up,” Brian confesses. His warm breath billows over my left shoulder when he buries his face in the curve of my neck. “I have this way of taking everything good in my life and poisoning it until it dies or leaves me.”
“Me, too,” I admit when he pauses. “I ruin everything.”
“You’re young, too young, but that hasn’t stopped me from wanting you since the first time I saw you.”
His words hang in the air. I want to believe them, except his reaction to kissing me at the hospital that day is still burned into my memory. It still hurts.
“I wished you’d stopped and listened that day,” Brian seems to answer my unspoken question. “If you had, I could’ve explained that the problem wasn’t that I hadn’t felt anything when I kissed you, the problem was that I’d felt too much, and it had scared the living shit out of me.”
God. Please let this be the truth.
“I’m not lying to you,” he vows, responding to yet another question I didn’t say out loud. “And I’m happy to spend every minute of my life proving that it’s the truth if you’ll let me.”
“Please,” I whisper against his hair. “Please prove it.”
“Your wish is my command.”
Brian lifts me high enough to move me up the bed. He crawls over me, using his body to urge me onto my back. I lay down and open my arms to him.
He doesn’t need another invitation. We hold each other, breathing in unison, stroking every inch of skin we can reach on the other’s body, kissing whenever the desire overcomes us. At first, I believe I could let him worship me like this forever, until the warmth that swirls in my belly grows into an inferno and my body begins to vibrate with need.
Becoming a whirlwind, Brian strips my clothes from my body before he rolls onto his back. He pulls me over him, pushing me upright and moving me until I’m straddling his hips like I did in the back yard. Sometime during our making out, he removed his briefs, and I’m now sitting over his hard, bare cock.
“Tell me you didn’t sleep with Paddy?”
This is the first time either of us has mentioned what happened tonight. I was hoping he would let it go, that we could table it for a long time—forever if possible. I should have known I wouldn’t be that lucky.
A smidgen of guilt flickers through my mind when I think back over the events that took place in the bedroom next to this one. I haven’t spared Alanah a second thought since I found Brian face down in the back yard.
I hope she’s okay. I pray Paddy didn’t catch up with her.
Then I push all thoughts of her out of my head.
It’s selfish. It truly is. But I need this.
I need Brian.
And I won’t let anything come between us while we’re still finding our feet together.
Shaking my head, I give him the barest of details. “No, of course not. He was helping me get your attention, that’s all.”
Thankfully, Brian accepts my explanation. Stark, sincere liberation paints his face, then he takes hold of my hips and urges me to lift myself with my knees.
I end up hovering over his length when he palms his cock and holds it straight beneath me.
“This is gonna hurt,” he tells me, barely disguising the pain that thought causes him. “So I’m going to put you in charge. I’ll help you when it’s time, but this is happening at a speed you choose.”
“Okay.”
Once I’ve taken the head of his cock inside my body, Brian let’s go of his length to grip my hips and helps me lower myself further with his strong hands. His intrusion doesn’t hurt like he warned. Right now it’s more of a fullness that I’m not used to.
That doesn’t last.
Eventually, the pain begins. The stretch and the slight burn has me halting my downward motion while I let my body adjust. As I wait, I watch a myriad of emotions flit over his face and flood his eyes. What I see on his face matches everything I’m feeling.
Brushing his fingers over my lips, Brian breaks the silence that’s filled the room, “Take your time. We have all night.”
When I nod my head, Brian hisses and thrusts his hips upward, seating his cock further inside me. He rubs my clit with his thumb, hissing again when I throw my head back so far that my hair touches his thighs. A long moan escapes my mouth. Pressing the same bundle of nerves, he groans when I push down over his cock, before he takes hold of my hips and forces my body to take all of him.
I scream—part pain, part pleasure. It echoes off the walls and hurts my ears. Brian jack-knifes upright to silence me with his mouth.
“It’s over,” he promises before he kisses me harder. “No more pain. Only love.”
His tongue pushes inside my mouth. I part my lips to give him the entry he seeks. While we kiss, he slowly moves within me. In and almost all the way out. Lifting me up and down over his cock. Setting a mid-tempo pace that steals my breath and replaces the memory of the pain he inflicted with nothing but a rippling pleasure that invades my lower body, his movements heat me all the way through. They increase in intensity the faster he moves inside me.
Almost unbearably so.
“You feel so good,” he mutters against my shoulder after he’s pressed his face into the side of my neck. “Tight like a fist. Slick with want. Your body was made for mine.”
Brian’s words are the perfect backdrop to our love making. When my thighs begin to shake, he lays back down flat on the bed and takes over completely. His arms strain as his moves me above him, and he loses his punishing rhythm when my body tightens around his length, clenching and loosening, over and over, until I fall forward on his chest.
I’m spent. Worn out yet glowing with happiness.
He jerks beneath me, rocking under me before he shouts my name and ceases moving inside me half a minute later.
“Fuck, Anita.” Brian brushes my hair from my face and peppers me with kisses. “That was beyond…”
When he trails off and holds me tight against his chest, I allow my full weight to rest on his.
“Please, please, please,” I move my lips in a silent entreaty. “Don’t let him leave me.”
SEVENTEEN
Brian
Waking with a start, it takes me a good three seconds for everything that happened last night to come back to me. My sore head. My aching body. My lethargic limbs. It all adds up to one thing.
I got high. Too fucking high.
The girl in my bed snuggles into my side when I move my arm from around her to cover my eyes.
Okay, so not everything I did last night has come back to me.
Shit.
Slowly extricating my other arm, I ignore the pang in my gut that develops when I see that the girl has the same colour hair as Anita. Once I’m standing, I scoop my boxer briefs from the floor and cover my junk.
I haven’t had sex for nearly two years. After Shari fucked around behind my back and Anita ran from me, I’d lost the urge. The chick in my bed must be something special to entice me to break my drought.
A little neon top that must belong to the girl in my bed hangs off the end like one of us threw it there without looking. I grab it, and for reasons I don’t comprehend right now, I bring it to my nose and sniff.
Anita’s familiar scent invades my mind and the missing pieces from last night come rushing back.
Staggering over to the arm chair in the corner, I fall into the worn leather and tuck my head between my knees. I can’t breathe. My head is a mess of emotion. The headache I woke up with is nothing but a distant memory.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I curse at a level that shouldn’t wake Anita up. “This is either the best thing that’s ever happened to me or I’m dead and stuck in Hell, al
ready.”
“I hope it’s the first one,” a sweet voice—Anita’s voice—interjects.
When I sit back upright, my eyesight swims and it takes me a moment before I’m capable of looking her in the eyes. By the time I’ve got my shit into some semblance of order, Anita is out of the bed and crouched in front of me.
“Do you need me to get you something,” she asks. Worry dulls her chocolate-brown eyes and I want to kick my own arse for fucking this up. “Panadol? A glass of water?”
She’s naked, and apparently unaware of that fact. I’m not. My dick hardens immediately, right next to the hand she has resting on my thigh. Grinding my teeth I think about toe fungus and road kill in the hope that it will go down before she notices.
No such luck.
The drought has broken, and he’s determined to make up for lost time.
“Oh,” Anita exclaims. She giggles and runs her finger over the edge of the circumcised head. “I’m going to take this as evidence that you’ve decided on option one.”
The sound of her happiness dulls the residual aftereffects of the coke I snorted last night. I stand, bringing Anita to her feet with me. Her eyes widen. Her plump lips part. She squeals, surprised when I toss her on her back on my bed and crawl over her.
“How sore are you?”
She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, and I’d be bullshitting if I said the sight didn’t make my cock even harder, before she shakes her head.
“It’s not too bad.”
“Good,” I growl. Making my way down her body, I push her legs apart and run my tongue over her clit. Her thin fingers tug at my hair and she squirms when I lick her again.
“Bri-an,” she stutters her way through my name.
I work a finger inside her warmth. She moans. Pumping in and out, I wait until she’s arched her back and I’m at the risk of being scalped from the way she yanks my hair before I return my tongue to her clit and work her over the edge and into her first orally-inspired orgasm.
“Brian. Brian. Brian,” she screams. “God.”
While Anita battles through the aftereffects of her climax, I head back up her body to kiss her. Our tongues tangle and she lets me lift her hips so I can line the head of my cock with the wet and warm entrance to her pussy. Thrusting inside of her, I grit my teeth and concentrate on not blowing my bolt in the first three pumps.
Butch (Black Shamrocks MC: First Generation Book 3) Page 11