by Danika Fox
I saw movement and released the brake, the back tire screeching like a demon as we lurched forward, barreling toward the sons of bitches. From the looks on their faces, they weren’t ready for their target to be heading toward them at full speed.
“Crush!” Chrissy screamed as two of the hitmen dove out of the way, the other trying to take aim before getting caught right in the ribs by one of my boots. It took everything I had to keep the bike from swerving as I struck him, leaving him spinning like a ragdoll as we sped past and up a couple of floors of cars before bolting out onto the Las Vegas streets.
There was no way I was looking back now. I turned as fast as I could around the next corner and through an alleyway, my engine roaring as we emerged into a service road for another one of the casinos. I had to make sure we weren’t being followed, and a few more sharp turns were enough to assuage at least some of my paranoia as I started to head for a less populated portion of the city.
It only took me little while to find a seedy motel—the kind that offer hourly rates for with no questions asked. It was the perfect place to lay low while Chrissy and I got our bearings.
“Wait here,” I said after I parked the bike just outside of the motel’s front office. All I got in response was silence, and I didn’t have it in me to wonder whether Chrissy was angry or in shock from what had just happened. We were attacked by armed men within a day of the massacre at the club. I couldn’t blame her for needing a minute.
I was in and out of the office in only a matter of moments—dropping a wad of cash on the counter that was more than enough to buy us an evening. The man behind the counter handed me a room key without asking my name.
“Room 23,” I said, flashing the keys at Chrissy as I walked out of the office. “Let’s get upstairs before anyone can see us.”
She glared at me as she swung her leg over the bike and followed me up the stairs to our temporary haven. Was she seriously mad at me for all of this? I could feel a pressure building in my chest at the thought, my indignation rising as I unlocked the door and let the two of us in.
The second I shut the door, I felt the sharp sting of a slap across my cheek. I could already feel my skin turning red as I met her gaze.
“What the hell was that for?” I asked, my volume rising. “Is that what I get for saving your ass?”
“You nearly got us both killed!” she yelled back, her face equally flushed as mine must’ve been. “You ran right at them—we both could have been shot! Or even worse, with the way you were riding!”
“I did what I had to to get us both out of there in one piece!” I yelled, matching her for every decibel, stepping forward into her space, looming above her.
“You’re such an asshole,” she growled, drawing her hand back to slap me again. I grabbed her wrist before she could even swing and held her there, the same way I’d grabbed her daddy’s wrist when he’d tried to hit her. Both of us breathing hard, refusing to blink first.
And then she kissed me.
She pressed her lips hard against mine, stepping on my boots to afford herself the height she needed. I felt the shock of it rush over me like a wave, my eyes going wide for a moment before I began to return it in kind, pulling her close against me. This was wrong, but the longer I felt those lips against mine, the harder it got to pull away.
Her kiss was like fire, burning and needy, passionate. My heart was hammering, an ache building inside of me as I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her tight enough to feel what had begun to stir within me. She let out of soft gasp against my mouth as I felt her nails raking over my back through my shirt.
A million thoughts ran through my heads as I felt her hands begin to pull at my clothes, a war between desire and obligation as I felt her press her chest against me. My body shuddered, and I knew that no matter how this ended, it would be worth it.
13
Chrissy
Crush’s mouth was like a drug. I could feel the euphoria of him coursing through my veins as we kissed, a desperate need igniting inside of me—one I had never felt before with a man.
Sure, I’d had other men in my life—especially after I’d gotten out from under my father’s thumb—but something about the way that I wanted Crush felt so much more real than any of the others.
Feeling my body pressed against his spread a warmth through me like I’d just swallowed something scalding, the heat disseminating through my chest as it went down. I grabbed at his shirt, tugging and pulling at the fabric like I’d forgotten exactly how clothes worked. All I could think about was how much I desperately wanted his skin against mine. The adrenaline and fear was still coursing through me, but there was no stopping the raw desire.
At first he was tense, his lips tight against mine, refusing to yield as I tongued along his seam. It wasn’t until I slid my hands beneath his shirt that I felt him start to respond, his hands moving to grasp my waist, pulling me in closer. Even through his jeans I could feel him stretching, hardening, lengthening. The way it flexed against the denim made me realize it must be a monster.
“Chrissy,” he moaned between kisses as my hands explored the rippling topography of his stomach and sides, a shiver seizing my vertebrae. He felt so warm, so welcoming that I had a hard time not getting lost in the feeling of him beneath my fingers.
Hungrily I began pulling his shirt up and over his head with only a minor fuss, though whatever complaints he had were silenced as I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck, pulling him into another slow and tender kiss. He felt so right against me, and before long I’d pulled my top off, letting it fall into a heap on the ground somewhere out of sight. My world had shrunk down to only the few feet of space that the two of us inhabited, everything else simply melting away into a blur of sound and color that my mind couldn’t be bothered with. All that mattered in that incredible moment was the two of us.
“We need to slow down,” he whispered against my neck as his lips brushed across the nerves there. I let out a soft gasp, melting against him, my muscles becoming jelly as his hands slip up my back.
“Fuck you,” I cooed back at him, turning his face to mine so that I could taste his mouth once again, a fire sparking deep inside of me, filling my belly with excitement.
Part of me had felt something for Crush since I first met him. He’d stood over me, my savior, and pulled me out of hell with his hand around mine. Those eyes had calmed every fear I had in Earthly Delights, washing away all the blood to leave me utterly entranced. I’d felt safe with him. Indebted to him. And the way he took charge, I knew he could handle me the way I deserved to be.
He was protective, kind, strong, formidable. I didn’t know if this was love, but I knew that whatever it was, it felt like I had been missing out until now.
“Chrissy,” he whispered again, but this time something felt off about the way he said it. There was less enjoyment in his tone, instead replaced with something much more serious. “We need to stop.”
“Why?” I asked with a frown. “What’s so wrong about any of this?”
“It’s just—” he began, sighing as he took a step away from me. “You’re…”
He trailed off, but the silence sparked something in me that was by no means excitement.
“I’m what?” I asked, upper lip curling. “What am I, Crush? A good girl? Too pretty to fuck? Or are you just scared of my daddy? I don’t give a fuck about what my daddy thinks.”
His hard body shuddered visibly. He pulled me in tighter, pressing my soft breasts against his hard chest. He slowly reached a hand down along my flat tummy—not because he was nervous, but because a man like Crush moved deliberately and with purpose. He was in no rush. On his own time, his rough hand slipped down into my yoga pants, and I felt electricity as his finger pressed to my bare wet pussy. I was ready. Every mile spent on the back of his big rumbling and vibrating motorcycle had driven me wild.
He groaned softly.
“You like that?” I asked as he ran his finger slowly up
my damp slit. “Would a good girl’s pussy be so hot and wet?”
I pushed him away, hard, slamming his strong shoulders up against one of the walls. His whole body shivered as I lowered herself down onto my knees and worked at his belt, releasing the beast within.
“Chrissy, please…” he pleaded, but his words were cut short as I gripped his massive shaft and worked my lips over the head, suckling slowly and swirling my tongue along his soft ridge.
He tasted good, musky but sweet, exactly how a man should taste. I took more of his fock into my mouth, devouring every inch I could, hungry for more.
Crush moaned and pulled my hair back from my face to watch me, widening his stance. His eyes were fixated on mine as I batted my lashes, still playing the part of the sweet, innocent girl who just happened to love sucking his incredible cock.
“Shit,” he muttered. “You fucking brat. Jesus Christ…”
Once he’d said it, I was obsessed with it. I was a fucking brat, and I was going to get exactly hat I wanted out of this man.
I began to take him in deeper, sucking enthusiastically and moaning along its massive length. I was desperate to prove that I could handle a real man. I didn’t want him to treat me like some kind of good little girl. I wanted him to fuck me like the brat I was. I gagged as I tried to take him all the way. Maybe I lacked a little experience, but I was going to make up for it with enthusiasm. When his fingers laced through my hair and pulled himself deeper, I felt a wave of pleasure roll over my body.
“Goddammit,” he moaned, his eyes rolling back into his skull as she lapped at his tip. “Oh shit, sweetheart…”
I let his dick free from my lips with a wet pop! and grinned up at him, stroking his base. “You could stop me anytime you wanted,” I whispered.
I engulfed him again, laving my tongue up and down his shaft and undulating it just below his ridge as I sucked so hard that my cheeks went hollow.
“Fuck!” he groaned, and I felt a throb running along his thickness. “Fuck, sweetheart! I can’t… I can’t stop… I…”
“Mmhm!” I answered, opening my eyes wide as I redoubled my efforts, rolling my tongue faster and faster as I took him to the back of her throat.
He gave a strangled cry, then came so hard his whole body shook. He stamped his foot, uttering noises she’d never heard a man make before, lost in a frenzy of bliss as pulse after pulse of his essence poured from his cock. It was overwhelming. I pulled back, but he gripped my head even harder, forcing me back down. I was devouring him, swallowing him, taking everything he had to offer.
He finally pulled away, the last pulse splashing against my lips as his cock popped free. I wanted this. I wanted him more than anything in the whole fucking world. I wanted him to throw me onto the bed and fuck me into next year… but when I caught his eyes, I saw it.
Doubt…
I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life. I’d have given him everything, but he was scared.
“Chrissy,” he growled, but before he could grab me to pull me back, I had already turned away, marching straight toward the bathroom door. “Come on!”
“Leave me alone, Crush,” I snapped, turning back around just long enough to look him in the eye before I slammed the door right in his face.
If I were in one of those cartoons from back when I was younger, there would be steam billowing from my ears. I had never been so angry in my life, even when I’d been arguing with my father… but maybe that was why I was so mad. I’d just given this man the blowjob of his fucking life and it wasn’t enough. It was bad enough that my dad was intent on managing every aspect of my life, but now the one guy who I thought might buck against being daddy’s lap dog had turned out to be exactly like all the others.
I stared at my ruined makeup in the mirror, wondering how the hell I attracted men who were only ever the kind that my father could intimidate and control. The whole reason I’d left was so that I didn’t wind up married to some wise guy like I was living in a damned feudal kingdom. I refused to be the damsel he sold off for a chance at a bigger and better empire. I wasn’t something to be bought or sold.
I turned on the sink, splashing water on my face and washing away the last remnants of my indiscretion. I knew that I’d have to face Crush eventually, and despite how angry I was, I knew that I wasn’t going to get him out of my system easily. That would be a problem if this whole “protective custody” thing went on any longer. I would have to do something and maybe once I did he’d be out of my head for good.
I wasn’t going to just sit around and wait for something to happen. If I wanted him out of my head, then I needed to make my move, and I needed him to see me as a girl who knew what she wanted—not some mob boss’ daughter.
14
Crush
Chrissy slammed the door to the bathroom, and for a moment, I thought that it might fall off the hinges from the sheer force. It was around that moment that I’d begun to realize that I’d made a fucking huge mistake.
But how could I fucking stop her?
The way she kissed me was intoxicating, pulling me farther and farther from what I knew was the right thing with every hit I took. The way her tongue felt against my cock… the way her breasts pressed against my thighs… Just thinking about it was enough to make my heart start to pound again.
I heard the hiss of the sink turning on as I sat down on the bed—the one the two of us would’ve been fucking on, had I not stopped her. That fact alone kept me from clearing my thoughts completely… until I remembered what had happened only an hour before.
How had they found us? No one had known that Chrissy was even there—the media were still looking into her friend Roxy as their prime witness to the crime. I figured that we had at least a day before they cleared that up, and by then maybe Don Falcone would have a solution. Until then, Chrissy and I were stuck with one another, and if what had happened a few minutes ago was any indication, then that could only spell trouble the longer it went on.
I couldn’t begin to deny that I wanted more—hell, as bratty and stubborn as she could be, that only made me want to fuck her even harder, and that pretty little mouth of hers sealed the deal—but this was supposed to be all business, and throwing a girl like Chrissy into the mix would only make things messy once it came time for me to head back home. Daddy wouldn’t be happy when he found out what I’d been doing with his precious little princess.
She’s a goddamn adult, I thought, running my hands through my hair as I let my mind flash back to the way her mouth felt against mine, the way she pushed herself against me. The way she didn’t hesitate as I shoved my cock right down her fucking throat. She wanted me, and I couldn’t decide whether or not I should be kicking myself for not going all the way or even letting it get that far. But no matter what the reason I was upset with myself.
I had to get my head screwed back on straight. I turned my thoughts back to the Russians and how they’d gotten into the penthouse in the first place. I wracked my brain, and ended up getting stuck on what Lonnie Caputo had told us when we’d arrived—that only he and the Don had access.
But did that mean that one of them had orchestrated all of this? For what?
Don Falcone didn’t seem like the kind of man to kill his own daughter, and I couldn’t see what that schmuck Caputo would have gotten out of the deal. It was too big of a blind spot to ignore, and I knew that I was going to need to check in with Falcone sooner or later.
Checking in would be a problem, either with Falcone or my club, at least for the moment. I needed a phone—and according to the piece of paper taped over the button of the one in this shitty hotel room, it was looking like I’d have to go find one that was working.
I got up and walked to the window, looking out toward the street to see if there was a corner store anywhere in sight. Lucky enough, I spotted a sign peeking up over the top of a building just down the road, and from the looks of it, they sold liquor too.
Chrissy would be well within my sight the wh
ole time. Nobody was pulling into the lot without me knowing about it. A quick jog over, and I’d have in hand the only two things I needed right now.
Or at least, the things I was trying to convince myself were all I needed.
“Goin’ out,” I called to Chrissy over the rush and spatter of the faucet. “Be back in five.”
“You’re doing what?!” she cried, but before she could open the bathroom door, I’d already slammed the motel room door shut behind me.
The weather was nice, for Nevada. Dry, like it always was. First time I ever came here was on a layover from the Carolinas to Cali, I wasn’t used to parched air. I missed home for a minute. Missed the petrichor—the smell of the rain. Particularly thick around fall, it immediately invoked nostalgia for days when I’d ride through the falling leaves.
Everything comes with a cost, and sometimes, you don’t realize what you’ve left behind until it’s too late.
It got me thinking about the Hounds of Hell. Sure, I was loyal to them, but with its leadership in flux I was questioning my place among their ranks. Everyone seemed to want me to step up, but taking responsibility wasn’t my thing. Granted, that’s what I’d done here—took responsibility for a girl, a victim, when nobody else would. I told myself it was because of what Falcone was offering, but was that really it? Or was I trying to prove to myself I could handle it?
Or was it something else entirely?
Shit. The one goddamn thing I’d been told not to do…
I glanced back at the motel as I reached the door of the tiny convenience store. So far, so good, but I still waited a few minutes before heading inside. I was pretty sure we hadn’t been followed, but given that I was pretty sure we’d be safe up in the penthouse, maybe my instincts were off on this one.
I could probably chalk that up to Chrissy, too. I needed to get my head in the game, or I’d have bigger problems that just my dick wanting to get buried deep inside her. She was a mouthy thing, and I knew exactly how to shut her up…