Not that I was going to tell her that.
Not when she actually seemed to like talking to him.
My phone buzzed, and I glanced down at it. My pussy twanged at the sight of Nyx in our bed…
Mouth watering, I tapped out, Don’t tempt me.
Nyx: I was born to tempt you.
Me: True dat. Fucccck.
Nyx: Yes, please.
Me: Think Mav would mind me heading out for a little while?
Nyx: If he does, tell him I’ll make him suffer later.
I snorted despite myself, then, with the prospect of being close to Nyx and experiencing some love and comfort and pleasure this afternoon instead of the misery of being locked up inside this room—even if it was by choice and even if it was an honor to help these women come back to their own—I got to my feet and headed to the doorway to Ghost’s room.
“Mav?” I called softly. “You good with me heading out for about” —Thirty minutes?— “forty minutes?” Best to be on the safe side. Nyx and that cock of his should have been illegal.
He twisted around. “Sure—” When he looked at me, he broke off, and a cocky smirk made its way onto his mouth. I narrowed my eyes at him, scowling when he stuck his tongue into his cheek. And pulsed it. Twice. Bastard. “Have fun.”
I sniffed, folding my arms across my chest. “If you consider doing laundry fun, then you have issues,” I lied.
“Well, something’s going to get wet. That’s for sure.”
Okay. Point taken. Don’t lie to Mav.
Huffing, I muttered, “You sure you’re good? They’ve had all their meds and will be okay for another few hours at least, so there’s nothing you’d need to do.”
“I’m better than good.” His eyes softened. “Go on. Get.”
Shooting him a grateful smile, I whispered, “Bye, Ghost.” The whispering and muttering and murmuring was the regular volume in this place. It was so like the mortuary I’d just classed it as, even if the people inside it were alive if not kicking, that it made me cringe. “See you, Amara, Tatána,” I told them, as I headed past Amara’s door and the sofa.
They didn’t reply, not that I’d expected them to, and when I was outside, I let the sun sink into my body before I took a deep sigh and cleansed my nostrils from the stench of the sick room.
Tipping my head back, I paused, just for a second, then I felt my phone buzz and knew that was Nyx telling me to move my ass.
Which I did.
With haste.
My body was already heating up with thoughts of what he’d do to me the second I got into our bedroom, and the joy of it was that Luke hadn’t wrecked this for me. He’d wrecked the bar for me though. I didn’t think I’d be good with being in Daytona on my own again for a long while, which I hated. Fuck, weaknesses were made to be overcome, but that was just a little beyond me.
At the moment.
Never say never.
I scurried into the clubhouse, rolling my eyes when I passed Steel boning Kendra—fuck, I hated her the most—on the staircase of all damn places. If I could have sprayed Lysol everywhere, I would have done. It’d need it.
Ew.
This place was beyond gross sometimes. I often wondered who was in need of help more—the guys or me for considering this my home.
Rolling my eyes at the thought, I carried on stomping my way up to my room and felt some relief when I made it to our door. I considered it a good day when I only saw one dick that didn’t belong to my man and one pussy that wasn’t mine.
Heading inside, my mouth started watering the instant I came across Nyx. He had his legs splayed on the bed, those long, strong, muscled limbs relaxed in rest. His body was propped up on a stack of pillows I’d bought recently—as well as new bedding, a new mattress, and linens because no way was I sharing anything with clubwhores—and as the door opened, his attention veered off his cell.
The satisfaction loaded in that one look had my lips twisting. “That sure a bet, am I?” I joked, even as I closed the door behind me, pressing my back against it as I took a second to give him a lonnnnng look.
Trust me, there was a lot to look at.
Not just the log between his legs, which had more metal on it than a cyborg, but everything about him. Just Nyx. Fuck, he was beautiful. Like something Michelangelo wished he could ogle as he painted my man.
“Don’t just stare,” he groused. “Come and touch.”
I arched a brow. “I’m showering first.”
His eyes lit up. “Y’are?”
“Yep. I need to wash that place off me.” I shivered a little, and his eyes softened. The arousal in them dimmed slightly, but it was replaced with a tenderness I knew he only ever showed me.
To many people, Nyx would be considered evil. But to me? He was everything I’d never known I needed. He was the dark that made the light in me gleam a little brighter than it had before. He made me stronger. Tougher. All because he made me feel safe and, until him, I’d never felt that way before.
Which, of course, was ironic considering Lancaster had attacked me recently, but if it wasn’t for the brotherhood of men who were linked through shed blood and broken bones, I’d have been raped or worse…been taken to that pit where Tatána, Alessa, Amara, and Sarah had existed.
You knew shit was bad when death was welcome in the face of that.
I pursed my lips at the thought, not liking it at all, not when I had this man to come home to. This man who looked at me like I’d put the stars in his night sky. His because he was the King of the Darkness.
“Either get a shower or bend over the bed,” he warned, making heat flash through me. He was a gruff bastard, but you could never say he wasn’t direct.
“Oh, yeah? You gonna make me?” I retorted, daring him when I knew that would get me fucked without the shower I really wanted.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’ll do more than bend you over—”
A giggle escaped me—the giggles were a new development, and I wasn’t particularly happy about it—and I darted off to the bathroom before he could say another word. He growled, making my heart leap as I dashed off, and I heard his feet collide with the floor and his heavy footsteps as he chased me.
Suddenly, the excitement switched into something else.
Something darker.
Something…
My throat choked and my heart, already racing, began to pound.
Chased.
Hunted.
Caught.
Tunnel vision made the darkness spread, but I’d forgotten who owned the dark.
A rumbled, “Giulia,” and I was reconnected with the moment. With this day. With my reality.
I caught a glance of myself in the mirror over the sink and saw I looked pale and pasty, my pupils blown, my chest galloping as I tried to catch my breath…and he was behind me. Concerned but calm.
“I’m okay,” I squeaked, then he caught me in his gaze, and everything around me stilled.
He wanted to hurt Lancaster. I felt it. It throbbed through the room. He wanted to make the person who’d put this fear in me understand what fear truly was, and because I was made to be this man’s, because I was his fucking mate, I understood, and I fed off that. Sick, but true.
I tossed my hair over my shoulder as I thought about what I’d just left behind. A woman who wanted to kill herself, a woman who had almost died from an infection we were barely managing to keep under control, and a woman who was practically catatonic…all that perpetrated by Lancaster. And ‘they’ thought my man was evil?
It came in all shapes and sizes, but I’d faced true evil, and I knew Nyx had faced it before and would face it again, only finding relief when he could bathe in someone’s blood.
Because I needed the relief, the release, because I understood now, I ground out, “Lancaster’s gone, but I think it’s time we rode.”
Because we were in sync, he tilted his head to the side. “We have to be careful. The club’s under scrutiny thanks to the investigation.
”
“We’ll ride further. There are sick fucks everywhere, aren’t there?”
His mouth tightened. “You don’t want to see—”
“I want to do more than see,” I rasped, tipping my chin up. “Lancaster can’t pay, but other bastards can.” I was talking about murder. About torture. But fuck…that anger in him, the rage in me, it had to go somewhere. We had to burn it off. Between the sheets, on the road, together. We’d burn in the flames we created as a couple.
A breath exploded from him. “I’ve never wanted you more than I do at this moment, and before here, now, I didn’t know I could want a woman as much as I want you.”
Butterflies exploded into being in my stomach. “I love you,” I whispered.
His eyes darkened. “Babe, I love you.” His words were a rumble, a thunder that connected with me on a base level.
I swallowed, overcome and hyperaware, and then I took in the bigger picture, saw his dick had softened and, fuck, I wasn’t about to have that.
My mood had changed so many times in the past five minutes that I wasn’t as horny as I’d been, but I wanted to connect with him, wanted to be at one with him, so I started pulling off my clothes, clothes that had been in a room with the sickness of Lancaster’s actions, and I dumped them in the laundry bin.
When I was naked, his cock was delightfully hard once more, and I smirked at the sight even as I reached up and jiggled my tits, laughing as he scowled at me.
“Get that fine ass in the shower before I make use of that jiggle.”
“That supposed to be a threat?” I jeered, but because I really didn’t want to smell like a sickroom as we hooked up, I hopped into the shower and turned on the water. All the while, as it heated up, our eyes were joined, and the fire sparked into being between us in a way that told me there was no chance of this connection ever dying.
This was it for us.
I was his.
He was mine.
I sucked down a sharp breath and broke the connection because the need to get clean was more imperative than before.
Smart man that he was, he didn’t join me at first, but I saw his shadow through the curtain once I closed it enough so that the floor wouldn’t be drenched. I washed up, sponged my entire body in his soap, and only after two minutes had passed did he step into the shower with me.
A growl rumbled in his throat once more as he took in my soapy glory, and I reveled in it. Tossing my head back, I stared at him with defiance. A defiance that told him for all he was the King of the Darkness, I was his fucking Queen.
And if he fucking forgot that, I’d make him pay.
His eyes flashed, his jaw tensed, and in less than a second he was there, he was on me. He pushed me into the shower wall even as he dragged me up, widening my legs so he could step between them while I hooked my thighs around his hips. His cock was there, a burning brand against tender flesh that still choked on him on a routine basis, and his mouth was on mine.
I felt his hunger. Was seared in his rage. And was reborn in his love.
My eyes grew wet with tears as he thrust his tongue against mine, his hands reaching for my own and pushing them overhead, pinning me to the wall. The water and soap had taken away my own natural lube, but the pressure of him there, what he made me feel, what he made me need, was all that took for me to feel like I was going to die if he didn’t get inside me. Right. This. Fucking. Second.
I squirmed against him, my body slippery as it slid against his hardness, and his cock twitched as I used the lack of friction to get myself off, using all those metal studs and piercings to my benefit.
When he fucked my mouth, I groaned into him and he swallowed it, even as he reached between us, grabbed a firm hold of his dick, and pressed it to my gate.
Slowly, he pushed in.
Slowly, he reclaimed me.
He was too big to take me roughly, even if both our emotions were raging at a fever pitch. But that he took care, right at this moment, when we were both more animal than our regular selves, was just a reminder of what we were to one another.
As his cock tunneled into me, finally there, thrusting hard and fast as my body took everything he had to give, I felt the peace that had eluded me in the recent weeks. It was only here, with him, that I could forget everything, that I could focus on him and only him. On us, and what we made together.
A muffled moan escaped me as he thrust faster, harder, all those piercings going to work inside me like he was a magician and he was plying my body with magic. Gravity pulled me down, making him work more, and making me feel fuller, even as he emptied me by retreating only so he could stake another claim and another.
Then, a scream was ripped from me and I tore my mouth from his to release it, to let the bathroom walls around me absorb the sound of true ecstasy as his hard, brutal loving took me exactly where I needed to be.
It was fast, faster than usual for him, but I felt his cum explode into me. His heat branded me, and that was just the icing on the goddamn cake.
Of course, those were famous last words, because when he nipped my bottom lip, hard enough to sting, that was the icing on the goddamn cake. And the sprinkles?
Well, they were liberally poured over every-fucking-thing when he ground out, “Mine.”
And because I was no shrinking violet, I rasped right back, “Mine,” and when I nipped his lip?
I didn’t do it to sting.
I did it hard enough to mark.
That single bead of blood was mine.
As was the fire in his eyes and the happiness in his bloodied smile.
“Fucking love you,” he rumbled, pushing his forehead into mine as the swirls of steam from the shower clouded around us.
“Fucking love you too,” I retorted, sliding my arms tighter around him. “Need you, baby. So damn much.”
“You’ll never not have me,” was his instant reply, and if that wasn’t a vow, I didn’t know what was.
* * *
Link
A few days later
I sucked her clit between my lips, smirking as she thrashed around on the sofa. Her hands were gripping my hair, and I knew she didn’t give a fuck about making me go bald which I’d admit to appreciating.
She was focused on her pleasure, more so than any other woman I’d ever fucked, and I’d fucked a lot. Sure, everyone concentrated on climaxing, but Lily? She did it with a force that stunned me each and every time I pulled shit like this on her because she was uncomfortable with her body, uneasy with being naked, and uncertain when it came time for me to touch her.
I knew why even if I didn’t understand what had made her this way.
Someone had taught her that sex was dirty. That it was something to be ashamed of. Maybe even that she was dirty. So, when she flung herself into what I was making her experience, it turned me on all the more because she was pushing herself through the shit someone had made her learn and embracing everything I had to give.
I’d grown out of soft, vanilla shit when I was around seventeen, but the truth was, she was already fucked up, my kind of fucked up, so the least she deserved was someone leading her into this stuff with kindness.
One of my sex, a bastard, had taught her all the wrong crap. It was my duty to rectify that.
At least, that was what I was telling myself.
My focus fractured as she dug her heels into the soft cushions, arching up and shoving her pussy into my face. Mouth curving in a Joker grin, I slurped her down, loving her aggression, even more, loving her taste. Because fuck me, she tasted good. Salty, sweet. The best topping for popcorn ever.
I almost snickered at the thought, then I ignored the directions she was showing me with her hands and slipped down, tongue fucking her gash, licking up her juices, then doing something for me. I rimmed her asshole, smirking as her butt muscles clenched down, her little rosette tightening, and she released a squeal that was all shock and no pleasure.
Her hands tore at my hair again, but I didn’t stop. Ev
en as her legs were clenching down around me, I carried her through the initial wave of disgust, continuing until she was writhing around once more.
When she climaxed, it took her aback, but not me. Every part of her tautened, her muscles surging up off the bed as she froze and allowed the power of her pleasure to guide her.
When she returned to Earth, I’d admit to two things.
One, my tongue ached like a fucker because that had taken a while to get her off—my fault. I liked her taste and her responses too much to go easy on her.
Two, my fucking hair ached where she’d almost wrenched it out at the roots.
What I wouldn’t admit to was the Cheshire grin I was wearing, or the fact that when I looked at her, legs splayed, pussy juicy and bright pink and right in my line of sight, I knew she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life.
Her eyes were closed, her chest rose and fell in deep, jarring movements as she tried to get her breath back, and the back of one hand rested against her forehead.
A few days of touching her, kissing her, petting her like I was back in fucking high school, had opened her to me in more ways than I’d expected. Learning she was a virgin had kind of messed with my head. I didn’t know anyone who left their teen years nowadays with that label, but she did.
Had.
And I wanted it.
I wanted to own that part of her.
Her hymen had my name on it.
Which was beyond fucked up.
I didn’t want any part of any woman long term. I liked to fuck ‘em and do my own shit. I had a preference among the sweetbutts, but even then, it was fun. They knew what I was like, knew what I was into, and knew that if they let me do whatever I wanted, I’d make them come so hard they’d be seeing stars for a week.
So, as I stayed where I was, knelt in front of the sofa, and as I looked over the curves of her body from that angle, I wondered what it was about Lily that was different.
If Rex had been another Prez, he’d have ordered me to get in with her to spy, to see if she was genuine in her admission to help Giulia. But that hadn’t been my intent behind getting her. Sure, I was monitoring shit—no way was Giulia going to get hurt on my watch—but when I looked at Lily, I saw that same fracture deep in her eyes as I’d seen in Giulia. It was their spirit. Their souls. Someone had hurt them. Ruptured something that belonged only to them. Tainted what should have been pure and damaged it forever.
Link: SATAN’S SINNERS’ MC: TWO Page 16
