Snow White & The Biker

by Glenna Maynard

  —Sybil

  Diego confuses the hell out of me. I still feel weird and groggy from the drugs he shot me up with, but he looks at me like he cares about me. He keeps telling me to trust him. Only how do I trust a man who held me prisoner. Drugged me. Amputated part of my finger. My hand is mutilated. He chained me to his bed like some sort of psycho. He confessed to being hired to kill me, yet he didn’t do it. I need to get out of here, but the question is how. The front door of the cabin closes. I know we are in the middle of nowhere and it’s pouring the rain out there. I need clothes and a plan. My idea of tempting him into bed didn’t go so hot.

  I hurry and run to the window to see where Diego is. He’s standing near the edge of the porch fiddling with his cell phone. I don’t know how long he will be out there, so I need to be quick. I hurry to the kitchen and start opening drawers searching for keys or a weapon. I’m not even finding the knife he used to slice the fruit up with.

  “Breaking News.” I trudge toward the radio sitting on the counter and turn the volume up. “Just in from Channel Seven our paid partner. Sources have confirmed that the FBI has detained a possible suspect in the disappearance of Heiress Sybil White who stands to inherit her father’s fashion empire. We are told that DNA tests have confirmed that the finger left on her stepmother’s doorstep is that of Sybil White. Detectives are hopeful that this is the work of a kidnapper but the man being questioned is a close friend of the victim. Sources from our affiliate station has identified the man as Jesus Perez. More on this case as it develops.” The report cuts off and my stomach rolls. I’m super pissed at Jesus but why would they think he kidnapped me? I have to get to the police and set the record straight.

  I shuffle to the bedroom searching for the clothes I had on when Diego brought me here. I spin around the room feeling dizzy and anxious. Sofia must be worried sick. Consuela is probably celebrating my disappearance and praying that I’m dead. She’s such an evil bitch.

  I can’t find my belongings and give up the search.

  I don’t even have shoes but screw it. I march toward the door on a mission. Diego will have to drag me back by my hair if he thinks I’m staying her a minute longer while Jesus is being questioned in my kidnapping and Consuela is counting the minutes down to collect my inheritance.

  I swing the door open and Diego turns to look at me. There’s a left-handed cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. His eyes widen going big and round. “Whatchu’ doin’ out here, Princessa?” Stupid jerk. Why does he have to be so damn irresistible standing out here right now. Barefoot, dark jeans, and a tee that hugs his muscular frame and shows of those tattoos on his arms. I mentally slap myself. I shouldn’t be thinking about how attractive this asshole is.

  I ignore his question and start marching down the steps of the porch into the cold rain. The sheets are coming down so hard and fast I can hardly see. I obviously didn’t think this through.

  “Sybil, march your ass back into the cabin now,” he barks at me, but I pick up the pace stumbling on the gravel as it digs into the soles of my feet. The wind howls and my hair whips around my face, stinging me like little barbs. I keep going even though I am more than likely doing more damage than good. I have to at least try. Not because I think Jesus is some great guy. It’s the right thing to do. He may be a dickhead, but he didn’t kill me. I can’t just let him go to jail for a crime that hasn’t been committed.

  “Sybil!” His voice rips through the rain sounding all too close.

  Quick and efficient, Diego scoops me up and throws me headfirst over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as though I am weightless. “Put me down, you tyrant!”

  His response is a low chuckle that vibrates from his belly, then his hand comes down hard. Thwack. A palm meets my ass cheek three times. He’s spanking me as though I am a naughty child who ate her dessert before dinner. My cheek stings and I know without a doubt his fingerprints will be there tomorrow.

  I see red. I start banging on his back, pummeling him with my fists as he enters through the front door and kicks it shut with his foot. “Cocksucker. Jerk. Asshole. Bastard. Filthy fucker.”

  “Filthy fucker. Damn, baby, you mean. Gonna wash that mouth out with soap.” I hear amusement in his voice, and it sets me off further.

  “How about bastard butcher.” Thwack. His palm smacks my ass once more. I cry out. “You’re a real piece of shit.”

  “That’s cute.” I hear the water turn on in the shower.

  “What are you doing?”

  He shuffles around then plants me in the shower as he kicks his jeans off and pulls his shirt over his head. When he reaches for mine, I slap at him.

  “Don’t you dare fucking touch me. I hate you. You make me sick. You think you can just do whatever you please with me. I’m not your property. I. Hate. You,” I seethe.

  Diego rubs his jaw giving me dark look that has my stomach doing flip flops only I’m not afraid of him. My pulse hammers in my ears and my heart leaps to my throat. I’m aroused. The realization shocks me, but I do my best to hide the way I’m feeling. I’ve always been a different sort of girl. Attracted to bad boys and now bad men. I’m ashamed of myself but seeing him standing there naked and seeming so pissed off yet sexy is doing crazy things to my head and especially my body. My nipples are hard enough to cut glass. I feel an ache between my thighs. An ache that says my body remembers how it hurt so good when we fucked. My body remembers how my pussy stretched to accommodate his length and size. I can’t tear my gaze away from him. My fingers that wanted to claw his damn eyes out moments ago, itch to touch him. To trace the ink that marks his chest. To run through his hair.

  Diego continues to stare at me.

  Face hard. Mouth tight. Eyes dark.

  Stepping into the steaming shower with me my captor towers over me. Naked. Brooding. Sexy as sin. His hand comes up and grips my jaw. “Take it back.”

  “No.”

  “Take it back,” he growls.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Oh, baby, keep talking like that and I’ll do more than that,” he warns, and my heart skips a beat at the threat.

  “Like what?” I whisper, wanting to kick myself. My gaze meets his, and I know I’m in trouble here because when he gazes at me like that all broody and sexy it’s easy to forget that he can be a monster.

  “You’ll have to stick around to find out.”

  “What’s that even mean?” I push against his chest needing some space between us, but he doesn’t budge.

  Taking my wounded hand, he draws it to his lips. The touch of his kiss sears me in ways I don’t want to like. “About killed me to hurt you, Princessa. Hated what I had to do. Wished there was another way.”

  My heart pounds against my ribcage. “You set up Jesus, didn’t you?”

  “Can’t answer that and you know why.”

  “So I can’t use it against you once this all unravels.”

  “Now you’re paying attention, baby. Just need you to hang on a little longer and believe me when I say I did what I had to. I did it for you. Didn’t I say I was gonna fuck you and figure out how to pull this shit off. My plan is already in motion and it’s working.”

  “You know you can’t get away with this. I know there’s something in this for you.”

  “Yeah. In the end…you and me, we walk away from here free and clear. We both get what we want.”

  “What about Jesus?”

  “What about him? Bastard won’t see any time. Besides why do you care. That fucker is lucky I needed him to take some heat. If I didn’t woulda fuckin’ killed him for doing what he did to you.”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “You told me. Most of it but it don’t take a genius to figure out he tried to force himself on you. I’d never fuck you if you didn’t want me to.”

  I let that go for now. “What about your stepfather?”

  “Plan changed.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I have something to fight f
or. Something I’d kill for.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You. Sybil. I’m fighting for you. I’d kill for you, baby. Bleed for you. Die for you.”

  I suck in a breath. “You can’t mean that.”

  “Why can’t I?”

  “Because it doesn’t make sense for you to care so deeply. To go to so much trouble for me. Why take that risk? You could go away for a long time for this. You can’t make me believe that this is all part of some plan to take care of me.”

  “Didn’t start that way, but I’ll show you.” His mouth comes down on mine, and I know I should tell him to stop, but the man can kiss. Diego’s tongue tangos with mine, slow and sweet.

  “No.” I shake my head. “You don’t get to be all sweet now.” I push hard against his chest. As expected, the man is a wall of muscle. I might as well be trying to move a mountain.

  “I’ll be whatever in the fuck I feel like being, Sybil. But now you pissin’ me off. Got your ass to calm down though, didn’t I? Let’s get your dry and warm then I’m going to make you come on my face.”

  My cheeks go red. “You think it’s that simple? You can swing that big dick at me and think it makes everything okay? That I can forgive everything you did to me.”

  He smolders at me. “No, but one day you will. Until then I can care enough for both of us. I know shit is fucked up. I know this is hard to accept. I feel like a bastard for the choices I was forced to make. But we’re gonna get through this.”

  “With sex? You can’t be serious.”

  “You love my big cock. You’re gonna love it even more when I show you all the things I can use it for.”

  I step out of the shower, shedding my soaked tee and reaching for a towel. I wrap the thick black towel around my torso and use a second to wrap around my head. I leave Diego to tend to his own needs. He’s completely bonkers if he thinks I’m going to fuck him again. Even as I think it though my body trembles with the desire to feel his body connected to mine again.

  In the bedroom I find a pair of his boxer briefs and another tee in one of the drawers. I feel the heat of his gaze burning into my back and before I can turn around or attempt to get dressed, he’s on me.

  Hands on my hips and lips at my neck. Diego presses his naked body against mine and jerks away my towel. “Come to bed with me.” The way he voices the words they come out like a plea instead of a command and he sounds vulnerable. I turn into him wondering what kind of game he’s really playing though my thoughts die when I see the haunted expression in his eyes.

  “Something’s eating at you.”

  “Don’t want to talk, baby.” He dips his head, his mouth moving toward mine.

  I turn my head, giving him my jaw.

  “You gonna deny me, Princessa.”

  “I told you to stop calling me that.” Diego grips my upper arms, walking me backwards toward the bed. My legs hit the mattress and I shove him. “No way.”

  His lips twitch upward. “You think you have a choice.”

  “What?” I know he can hear the disdain in my voice. “You don’t own me.”

  “You’re mine, Sybil. If I want to fuck you, baby. I’m going to fuck you.” His tone is low and feral. Threatening but so damn sexy. He reaches for me, and I shake my head. I have to be strong enough to resist him. My head is at war with my heart. I’m confused. I want him and yet hate him at the same time. More than physical attraction. We share a connection.

  “You don’t want me,” he whispers, the cords of muscles moving in his throat. Cupping me between the legs, he strokes a finger over my pussy lips and repeats himself. “You don’t want me. Baby, you not only mean. You a damn liar.” He rubs that same finger light as a feather in a circle over my clit and I whimper. My body betrays me yet again. Warmth pools between my thighs and my lips part. My hesitation to stop him seems to be all the invitation Diego needs, because he moves in all demanding and dominating and I don’t even try to say no.

  I don’t want to.

  I want him.

  I want this.

  Whatever it is.

  I need it.

  His words replay in my head. “You. Sybil. I’m fighting for you. I’d kill for you, baby. Bleed for you. Die for you.”

  Sinking down on the bed, I give in completely. I give in to desire and temptation. I give in to Diego. He scares me but in a good way. In a way that makes me afraid I will become completely lost to him and I want that. I crave it. The darkness and deepness that is him.

  He rolls to his back, stroking that big dick and he wasn’t wrong, I do love it. I love the magnificence that is him even if I don’t understand why I am drawn to him. There is something that pulls me to him. As much as I try to fight it I can’t. Something inside me screams that his words are true. I am his.

  Diego’s tortured soul calls out to me. I don’t know what haunts him, but I know if I walk away from him before fucking him one last time, I’ll live with regret and I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime.

  I need this. One good memory to replace all the bad.

  Chapter 15

  —Consuela

  Earlier that morning

  I’m exhausted. I forgot how draining a press tour can be. I interviewed with three local stations and two international ones. I’m so sick of talking about Sybil. No one cares how this is affecting me. It’s all tells us about your stepdaughter. What kind of student was she? What were her hobbies? What were her future plans? Did she have a boyfriend? Blah. Blah. Blah. Who cares? Not me that’s for damn sure.

  I wish that biker would produce a body so I can get things set into motion. The faster she is declared dead the faster I get my money and can pay him his other half of his fee. I admit he’s good. Sending me her pinky finger was a nice touch. The FBI agent I spoke with earlier told me to have faith, but I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his despondent tone. He thinks she’s dead and that they will never find her body. I heard him talking to his partner. They think it’s a kidnapping gone wrong. They had to let Jesus Perez go. There wasn’t enough for them to hold him and he wouldn’t confess. All they have is circumstantial evidence. Not anything that could make charges stick. Not yet anyway. I am confused why they suspect he played a role.

  Not that it matters. All that matters is that the job is completed efficiently. I run my brush through my hair and smile at my reflection in the mirror and nearly scream and fall off my stool when I see Wrath standing behind me.

  I whip around. “How did you get in here? The FBI have agents posted outside.”

  He grunts and strokes his disgusting beard. “I have my ways. I’m a professional. You didn’t make the second half of your payment. I’m here to collect.”

  The man looks like a Neanderthal who was recently thawed from the ice block he’s been frozen in. He towers over me with his dark and haunting eyes narrowed on me attempting to intimidate me and it’s working.

  “You didn’t produce a body. I need her body. Until the death certificate is signed, you’ll have to wait.”

  “That wasn’t the deal. You have twenty- four hours. The girl is dead. You want your proof. Here.” The scary man pulls a photo out of his leather vest. He places it face down on my vanity and repeats. “Twenty-four hours. Get me my money, bitch, or the same will happen to you.” Wrath leaves and my hand trembles, hovering over the photograph.

  I suck in a breath and flip it over. My hand flies to my mouth. He held true to his word. I thought I was prepared for this to be real but seeing her in the ground a pang of guilt blooms in my chest. I loved that girl once upon a time. Pale, bloodied, and nude…she appears the victim of a brutal crime. I feel sick.

  Running to the bathroom I let go of the picture and collapse at the porcelain bowl. I retch violently. My stomach heaving and expelling my breakfast.

  Chapter 16

  —Diego

  Sybil slinks toward me on the bed like a tigress ready to pounce. She can say she doesn’t want me all she likes to. The way her body res
ponds to my touch and her actions prove otherwise. Sexy yet sweet. Her lashes flutter and her lips part as she takes in the sight of me stroking my dick. Licking her lips, she moves closer.

  “You know what sixty-nine is?”

  “I was a virgin not dumb,” she sasses.

  “You ever had a dick in that mouth?”

  “No.”

  “You about to. C’mere and sit on my face backwards.”

  I see the hesitation written on her face as her brow quirks up.

  “Not gonna tell you twice, baby.”

  “Can we slow down?”

  “You getting shy on me now?”

  “No.”

  “Want that pussy, Sybil.”

  “Yeah and I want the rest of my pinky finger back and for you to tell me what you’re trying to escape.”

  A hint of pain flashes on my face briefly. My mouth opens and the words that follow shock her. “My mother is sick. She’s mentally ill. It’s not good. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “If I were sensible, I’d tell myself it is only some bullshit lie to manipulate me but there is too much raw honesty and pain laced in your words. You’re seriously complicated, and I’m messed up in the head because I want to comfort you. The monster who butchered my hand. My emotions keep teetering between the thin veil of lust and hate. That’s all this is. That’s all it can be because when this all comes crashing down all we will be are memories.”

  My jaw ticks and Sybil moves to straddle my face, giving me what I want and what I need. To get lost in her. She lowers that sweet pussy over my mouth, and I grip her thighs holding her in place. Fuck me, she’s soaked. Her inner thighs are slick. Thrusting my tongue up inside her, I get busy. I work her juicy cunt, loving the moans leaving her throat. Her hand slides to my neck, wrapping around me with those slender fingers, choking me. Her thighs squeezing the sides of my face. Rolling her hips, she rides my tongue, fucking it so hard I’ll be paying for it later. Right now though, I don’t care about that. It isn’t long before her legs start to shake, and her essence coats my mouth.