by Evie Monroe
I set her down in the center of my bed, pulled out of her and rolled the condom off, tossing it in the trash in the bathroom. I kicked off my boots, ripped off my t-shirt, and returned to my bedroom to see her lying in the center of my bed, up on her elbows, her legs pressed together, skirt riding up on her hips and exposing her bare, sweet pussy.
She looked a little dazed.
I snapped my fingers at her. “Hey. You okay?”
She hesitated for a moment, then reached down and slid her skirt over her hips, baring her tiny waist. She lifted her camisole up, tearing it loose of her long red hair, and as her tits sprang free, I could only stare. “What do you think?” she said with a sly bat of her eyelashes. “I think you promised me more?”
Fuck, she was beautiful. Laid out like this. Then she licked her fucking lips.
Fuck yeah. I had a lot more where that came from. There were so many things I wanted to do to her, but I had to take my time. I sure as hell didn’t want to freak her out.
I motioned to her knees, which she’d glued together. “Open your legs for me.”
She stuck her tongue out at me, but she was smiling, a sexy little smile that showed me she was into this. She did as I said, and I leaned forward to run my hands up the front of her legs, down her tender inner thighs. She leaned back, and I saw her quiver with goosebumps.
I swept my gaze over her, drinking her in. I couldn’t even pretend that those weren’t the most gorgeous tits I’d ever seen. Full and round and heavy, her nipples hard. I leaned over and flicked my tongue against a nipple and closed my mouth around it and sucked.
She tensed, reaching for my jeans. I nudged her away.
She groaned in protest. “What are you doing?”
I knelt down in front of her, wrapping my hands around each ankle and spreading her legs wider still. I lifted her leg, laying a kiss on her ankle, moving my tongue up her perfect calf, to her thighs. She let out an uneven breath as she watched me. Then I dipped my head down, laying a kiss gently between her legs.
She squirmed. “Drake, I . . .”
“Shh,” I murmured, inhaling her intoxicating scent. She was so wet for me. I moved my tongue over her with slow, leisurely strokes, making her wriggle impatiently. Then I slipped it between her lips, circling her swollen clit before zeroing in on it.
She jolted upright. “Oh, fuck. You are totally insane, you know that?”
A laugh rose up from my throat. Insane, and she loved it. It just made me hungry for more. I wanted her, body, soul, all of her, right on the tip of my tongue.
I reached up to her tits, tweaking the nipples. She moaned and the muscles of her arms, grabbing hold of the headboard above her, tightened. I went in deeper, teasing her pussy lips open with my tongue and gently circling her swollen clit.
I gave her more pressure, then less, went slow, then fast. She tossed her head back and side to side, then let go of the headboard and put her fist to her mouth. She bit down on her own hand in a savage way.
When I felt her legs beginning to tremble, I scooped my arms under her ass, around her legs, digging my tongue deep inside her.
She let out a scream as she started to come again, her legs buckling around me. I caught her hips and lifted her to me, continuing my assault with my mouth as her screams died to a whimper. Finally, she pushed away from me, her body trembling. “Oh, my God. You’re going to kill me with orgasms.”
I lifted her hand and looked at her fist. Sure enough, she had some pretty serious bite-marks there. “Well, then, at least you’ll die happy.”
I jumped to my feet, shoving my jeans the rest of the way down, kicking them off with my boxers still inside. “Tell me what you want now.”
“You,” she said. “Inside me.”
I spread her legs farther apart and stepped between them. She looked perfect there, her skin warm and sweaty, her legs open to me. I lifted her up to me, got ready to drive in, tracing the shadows with my fingertips and watching as her nipples tightened. I lowered my mouth and brushed hers, sliding my hands under her shoulders to pull her up to me.
I paused with my tip at her entrance, breathing hard, realizing in my excitement I’d forgotten the condom. Since when had I ever done that? What was this, high school?
I reached into my night table and pulled one out, ripping the package open and rolling it on. Her breathing, hard and raspy, told me she couldn’t wait another second.
I pushed inside her without a second thought, both of us letting out a moan at the hot friction of our bodies coming together. I drove into her, my hands branding her shoulders.
I thought the first time was the thrill of it being different, the thing Jet always went for. But the second time? Just as fucking sweet. Sweeter and tighter than any pussy I’d ever been in. I could’ve stayed in there, rocking into her like this all night.
Or at least, I hoped I could make this last all night. I soon realized that it would be impossible. Thighs pressed against the mattress, I worked her legs around my hips and pounded into her. The sight of her tits bouncing, her mouth curled in pleasure, making those high-pitch girly cries as I felt every inch of her perfect pussy . . . I wasn’t going to last.
I needed to calm my ass down.
I slowed, changed angle, went in even deeper. “Like that?”
She let out a breath and nodded. Her eyes closed. “Yes. Yes.”
That was good. But it only allowed me a momentary reprieve. I got right back to the edge in a split second. I shifted, grabbing her leg at the ankle and lifting it, hoping that’d give me control. But that only got me in deeper, felt better. “How about that?”
She nodded vigorously. “Oh, fuck yes. I love your cock. Fuck me harder.”
Oh fuck, talking like that, she was going to get me there even quicker. The bed groaned under our movements, the lamp on the night table shook with every thrust. The room around me began to spin. It was coming.
I needed to switch things up. I pulled out to let my approaching orgasm retreat, slipped a hand under her ass and easily flipped her over, onto her stomach. Like a rag doll, she let me have my way with her.
When I spread her legs and lifted her ass to me, ready to plunge into her, I saw it.
If anything could make my orgasm retreat . . . it turned out, it was that.
A tattoo on her lower back. Flames. I knew those flames. The flames that I’d come to despise.
I thrust in again, fucking her hard and relentless. With the fury that the symbol inspired in me.
She was Hell’s Fury. A Hell’s Fury fucking whore.
What the fuck was this? What was she doing at The Wall? I had a fucking thousand questions to ask her, but they all fell by the wayside, overshadowed by the feeling of her tight cunt around me.
Gritting my teeth, I grabbed for her hair and pulled it violently, not caring if I hurt her.
I didn’t. Her face was half-pressed into the mattress, but she was smiling. Smiling and moaning my name, rocking up against me with her ass to meet each thrust. “Yes, oh yes, just like that,” she said. She’d have been a wet dream, a total fucking fantasy if not for that goddamn tramp stamp on her lower back.
I blocked it out. Concentration momentarily shaken, the edge of oblivion caught me by surprise, and when it did, it steamrolled over me.
I dug in and came so hard that I felt the world spinning around me. Holy fucking shit, I came, just as hard as the first time, as she trembled underneath me. Her insides contracted hard around my dick and as she squealed, I knew she was coming, too.
I almost didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.
“Fuck,” I murmured as I pulled out, breathless. This time, I wanted to get as far the fuck away from her as possible. How could something so sweet . . . so perfect . . . be associated with those fuckers?
She collapsed onto the bed, her body quivering as she flattened herself out across the mattress. She rolled over and looked at me with a grin. “You could say that again.”
God, she was fucking
gorgeous. Gorgeous . . . and somehow . . . Fury.
“You must be a doctor. You definitely know a girl’s anatomy,” she said, giving me a wink.
Sexy as hell. And yet . . . Fury.
Fucking hell.
I pulled off the condom and tossed it in the trash, all the while wondering what the fuck I was going to do. When I got back to the bedroom, she was under the covers, her back turned to me. “You mind if I just rest for a little while?” she asked, her voice already giving way to sleep.
I didn’t answer. I got in behind her and stared at the ceiling, thinking.
She felt damn good next to me. My body was all in, my cock twitching again for round three, but my head was out of it.
The Fury. The fucking Fury. Everything I hated in this world. They’d fucked with my friends, nearly killed some of them, destroyed our clubhouse. What the fuck was she doing here? Was she sent here to spy on me? If she was, she was sure as hell doing a shitty job of it. Because right now, it looked like she was sleeping. And she hadn’t even bothered to cover up her tattoo.
But why had she been at The Wall? They knew better than to send their women to us. I didn’t put it past them to do a whole lot of shitty things, but to send their girls into the lion’s den? That sounded low, even for Hell’s Fury.
An hour later, I was still staring at the ceiling. Cock hard as a rock from the feel of her warm, sweet body next to mine. This is where I would’ve nudged Avery and coaxed her into another round.
But I was completely, mind-fuckingly unable to act upon it.
Next to me, Cait’s breathing had slowed, and she hadn’t stirred from sleep. Some fucking spy. I slipped out of the sheets, grabbed my cell phone, and padded naked into the living room.
When I got there, I saw Cait’s purse, carelessly left on the table between the kitchen and the living room. Checking the door, I slipped open the zipper and peeked inside. I saw a phone, a wallet, and keys. I stuck my hand inside and removed it right away. It didn’t feel right.
I picked up my own phone and looked at the display. Jet had sent me a selfie of him . . . in bed with the four co-eds from earlier that night. Fucking unbelievable.
Annnd once again, Jet topped me. Sure, Cait was hotter than all those girls combined, but she had one big, glaring check in the minus column.
One I wished I’d known before I took her home. Cullen was going to go batshit crazy when he found out. All the guys were going to give me shit for the rest of my life. I’d probably never live this down.
But I had to tell someone. This was too big to keep to myself. My mind was swimming. I needed someone to tell me what the fuck to do.
I punched into a call to Jet. He answered after four rings, sounding half-asleep. “Yo. Get my picture?”
“Yeah,” I said. Did he really think I’d call him at three in the morning to talk about it? “Listen . . .”
“Pretty sweet, right? You will not believe what these girls were willing to do for me, man. It was insane. Guess whoever said college girls were horny as hell was right. I . . .”
“Hey. Listen to me. I have a big fucking problem.”
He groaned. “I’m too fucking tired for problems right now. What could be the problem at this hour, man? You took that hot chick home, right? How could that be anything like a problem?”
“She’s Fury,” I mumbled.
A pause. Now he sounded wide awake. “What? What did you say?”
“You heard me. She has a goddamn tramp stamp on her back. Flames. She’s Fury.”
“Fuck, man. Was she spying on us? Did you kick her out of your place on her fucking ass? Did you run over her with your bike?”
“No. I only found it out afterward. She’s in my bed right now.”
“Then get her the fuck out! What are you waiting for? You’re letting a black widow just sleep in your bed?”
If I’d wanted a sane reaction to this problem, Jet was definitely the wrong guy to call. He was the King of Overreaction when it came to all things Fury. I should’ve known he’d hit me with the Take No Prisoners advice.
“Jet. Cool it. I don’t know why she’d even be at The Wall to begin with. Maybe it’s an old tattoo. Maybe . . . there could be any number of explanations. So before you go ballistic about me kicking her to the curb, let’s talk this out and be a little rational. Okay?”
“Fuck. You sound like Cullen. What? Was she that good a fuck?”
I let out a heavy breath. Yeah, she’d been that good. But a woman was a woman, no matter what kind of tattoo she had. I sure as hell wasn’t going to kick her anywhere. “If you’re not going to help . . .”
“Fine,” he muttered. He didn’t speak for a beat, which was about as long as Jet could go without talking. “You know. I have an idea. What if we could use her?”
It was just like Jet to come up with an idea that involved using women, since he did it regularly. “What do you mean?”
“Well . . . Cullen keeps saying we can’t go in there and fuck with the Fury until we know exactly what we’re up against. But what if she can give us the information we need? How they operate, the location of their clubhouse. She might know. Maybe we can pull it out of her.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. “What do you mean by pulling?”
“I’m not saying we beat it out of her, man. Hell, no. What do you think I am? I mean, maybe a little sweet talking, a little gentle persuasion, and she’ll volunteer it to us?”
I clenched my teeth. I didn’t know exactly what Jet would do to get that info from her, but hell, it was better than his first kick her to the curb idea. Actually, Jet was right. If we could get on her good side and get the info, it’d solve most of our problems.
Amazing. When Jet actually took the time to think, he came up with some good ideas.
“I’m coming over,” he said suddenly. I heard him talking in the background, likely to the girls, telling them he had to leave, how he’d really appreciate if they would be gone by the time he got back, and don’t let the door hit you in the ass. Jet, the charmer. “Be there in fifteen.”
“Yeah. I’ll be here.”
Awake. Staring at the wall. Wondering what kind of fresh hell I’d gotten the Cobras into this time.
Chapter Eight
Caitlyn
I rolled over in bed after the most satisfying and deepest sleep ever. My eyes slipped open for a second, and then flew open.
This wasn’t even close to my own bedroom.
Where the hell am I?
I strained to see in the darkness, making out a modern lamp, a white dresser, white sheets. Neat, but it was a distinctively male bedroom, that was for sure.
Shit. Then, it came back to me. Me and Martie, at The Wall. The hot biker dude. The sex. Oh, fuck, the sex. My muscles clenched at the memory. Damn he was big. Sure enough, I was pleasantly sore all over from the sex.
I sat up on my elbows and looked beside me, but the bed was empty. Drake wasn’t there.
What the fuck time was it? I usually didn’t ever have to worry about falling asleep in a strange guy’s bed because I was an extremely light sleeper. I always ended up awake, staring at the ceiling after sex, while my satisfied partner snored noisily. But I guessed Drake the Magnificent had worn me down with the . . . how many orgasms had he given me? I’d lost count.
Shit, he was good. His cock was, quite simply, the best cock I’d ever had. And his moves. His tongue. Even now, I drooled for it.
But I needed to get home. If my daddy got home before I did . . . I’d be fucked.
I cringed, flashing back to the one time I’d been late in high school. I’d had my daddy wrapped around my finger, but it was because I’d been a good girl who didn’t go against the rules. I’d gone to a homecoming party and ended up coming home a half-hour late. I got a slap in the face that drew blood from my nose for that one. It was after he’d found out about the Hell’s Fury guy I’d been fucking. “You’re a little whore like your momma, aren’t you?” he’d hiss at me.
I cringed at the memory of the pain slicing across my face. I’d sat up all night, my mom holding a cold ice pack to the cheek to stop the swelling. She had enough scars of her own to know just how to tend to these wounds. She leaned into me and said, “It’s not that you can’t be a kid. You just have to be smart about it, Caitie.”
I didn’t know what she meant back then. But I gradually learned. I always wondered how my mother managed to live thirty years under my father’s thumb. I soon realized that when the cat was away, the mice played. Luckily, Slade went away a lot. And when he did, we were able to have our fun. We learned to rebel against him in ways he never knew about, always hoping and praying we wouldn’t get caught. Not as much as we’d have liked to, but enough to keep us sane.
So far, we’d done pretty damn well.
Moonlight was still filtering through the blinds, and I didn’t hear any cars passing by outside, so that was a good sign. I slipped out of bed and noticed that my purse was on the dresser. I pulled out my phone and checked the time. It was after three.
Okay, good. If Daddy stayed at the clubhouse overnight, he usually had breakfast there with his men, and I’d be fine. I’d just have to make sure my mom was okay, but I hadn’t gotten any frantic texts, so that was good. Everything was good.
Except . . . where was Drake?
I realized I had one text from Martie. I sat on the edge of the bed and read it, realizing it’d just been sent a few minutes ago: Ugh that was a mistake. Why didn’t you warn me?
I sighed. I tried to. Where are you?
A few seconds later: I have no idea. His apartment, I guess. Can you pick me up?
I typed in: Yes. Give me the address. Then I realized I’d left my car in the parking lot of that dive bar.
Okay. Not a big deal. I could get Drake to take me back to the bar and probably pick her up, drop her home, and get all snug in my bed in North Aveline Bay before the sun came up.
The bathroom was dark, but I saw a small sliver of light under the door to the living room. I fished around in the darkness for my skirt and camisole, slipping them on, sans underwear, thanks to Drake’s little move. I stepped into my boots, noting I’d lost the little band-aid Drake had so expertly applied to my heel. Finger-combing my hair, I tied it up in a messy bun and wiped the sleep out of my eyes as I opened the door.