Bouncer (Kings of Carnage Series Book 5)

by Kim Jones

  There’s a flurry of movement, then I’m grabbed under my arms and lifted. My feet find the floor a moment before he swings my legs up in his arms. I see his cut lying next to the tub. He must’ve removed it to keep from getting it wet.

  “Gonna dry you off, but you have to help me. Can you stand?”

  “I think so.”

  He lowers my legs but keeps his arm around my waist. “Hold onto the bed post, baby. I’ll be quick.”

  After wrapping a towel around my hair, he pats my skin dry. This time when I’m told to spread my legs, I don’t hesitate. There’s nothing more uncomfortable than not being completely dry in…certain places.

  He leaves me sitting up in bed with a mound of pillows propping me up. The shirt he slips over my head is my own. I can’t help but frown.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. I need to do laundry.” He thrusts a bottle of Gatorade in my hand. “Drink that. I’m going to reheat your soup.”

  I watch as he lifts the bowl from the bedside table. “You made that?”

  “If made is pouring it out of a can and microwaving it, then yeah. I made it.”

  “When?”

  He winks. “When I told you I had other shit to do.”

  He closes the door behind him and I melt against the mattress.

  Well I’ll be damned…

  Maybe I’m worthy of something after all.

  Fourteen

  APPLE

  I’m miserable.

  It’s been seven days since Bouncer broke into my tent and forced me back to the clubhouse. The first three days I don’t really remember. The following two days were kind of…nice. I’d told Bouncer I was bored. So he’d went out and bought a T.V.. In between a lot of sleeping and chicken noodle soup, we spent our days binge watching forensic shows.

  But on day number six, he had to leave. He’d woken me up early in the morning to tell me he was leaving. After reminding me to take my medicine and drink plenty of fluids, he’d kissed my forehead and left. He didn’t return until later that night. When he crawled in bed beside me, this unfamiliar feeling coursed through me. I can’t remember ever being in love, but I feel like it starts with that feeling.

  And that scares the shit out of me.

  Because here it is, day number seven and, once again, Bouncer is gone. I’m confined to this room. And I can’t find anything on T.V. to distract me from this his absence. I feel desperate for his return. I’m become too dependent on him. I have no idea how I’m going to get through the nights when he leaves for good.

  Someone knocks at the door. Too lazy to get up, I yell out for them to come in. Talia peeks her head in, a smile stretched across her pretty face.

  “Hey friend,” I greet, so damn thankful to see someone—anyone—who isn’t behind a T.V. screen.

  “How you feeling?” She shuts the door before coming to sit on the edge of the bed. “Ooo, Sons of Anarchy. I love this show. Jinx doesn’t let me watch it. Says it’ll put shit in my head.”

  I shrug. “Bouncer says that too. I think it’s because they’re not as badass as the SONS.”

  She laughs. We watch a few minutes of the show in silence. When she starts fidgeting, I know she has something to say. I want to tell her to just say it, but I keep my curiosity in check. Talia has always been nice to me. I don’t want to pressure her to talk about something that might make her uncomfortable.

  I make it another two minutes.

  “Spit it out, Talia.” I pause the T.V. and turn to her.

  “I’m not sure if you know this, but you and I have a lot in common.”

  I lift a brow. “Do we?”

  So help me God if Bouncer told her about him spanking me….

  “I came from the streets. I remember what it was like to not have anything.” She blushes. “Shit. That came out wrong. Let me start over.”

  I wait. Happy that she isn’t bringing up the fact that she’s a submissive.

  “Like you, I was homeless for a long time.”

  “Who told you I was homeless?” I ask, my voice a little harder than I mean for it to be.

  “Bouncer. Well, technically, he didn’t tell me. But he mentioned it to Jinx who told me.” She shifts so she’s facing me. “Look, I just want you to know that if you need anything, I’m here. I’ll be happy to help you out with…whatever.”

  That motherfucker.

  I force a smile. “Thank you, Talia. I really appreciate that. But I’m good.”

  “Oh.” Her face is a mixture of shock and hurt. “Um. Well okay.” She moves to leave and I grab her hand.

  “Can I tell you something? In confidence?” I don’t want to, but she already knows. I might as well set the record straight before she calls those people from that “Move that bus!” show and has me a new house built.

  She covers my hand with hers. “Of course.”

  “I live where I live because I choose to live there. I like it. I don’t want anyone trying to interfere because they think they know what’s best for me. And these guys, they’re infamous for that shit. So if you could maybe encourage Jinx to leave this on the downlow, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “I’ll do my best. You have my word.”

  “Thanks. Also, if you know of a good place to dispose a body, I’m going to have one I need to get rid of real soon.”

  Fifteen

  BOUNCER

  Most runs are the same. You go from point A to point B with a job to do when you get there. I’ve done it so many times that I don’t even think about it.

  But something about this run felt different. Like there was a string pulling me back in the other direction.

  And stranger still, as I pull down the driveway of the clubhouse in Uprising, the tension on that string releases.

  It reminds me of my days in the military. Months spent overseas, trekking the deserts and mountain ranges of foreign lands, looking for intended targets. All the while, feeling like a fucking storm was brewing inside me. Yet, when I’d step foot on American soil, that storm would dissipate.

  I haven’t felt that since. Until today.

  I pull into the garage. Boots is there, manning his post. I left on the first leg back to ensure the rest of the guys had a clear ride on their return, so I’m the first to arrive.

  “Bouncer,” Boots says, giving me a nod.

  I guess he’s learned with me, the less talking the better.

  “Boots,” I answer in reply. I hand him my keys, and he tries to hand me a towel, but I wave him off. “Anything to report?”

  “It’s been quiet. I did a perimeter check about thirty minutes ago.”

  Good man. He’s learning.

  “Okay. Anybody around?”

  He shakes his head. “No one other than Apple.”

  I cock my head.

  “You saw Apple?”

  My question makes him shift on his feet, picking up on my tone. “She was in the main hall when I went in about an hour ago.”

  I push past him and head for the main room. I thought I made it clear she needed to stay in bed. But when I walk in, I know she’s done anything but.

  The place is so fucking clean it gleams. In fact, any surface that catches light is polished to a shine.

  I look around for her. I catch sight of a gloved hand gripping the edge of the bar.

  Those fucking gloves.

  When I peer behind the bar, Apple is squatted, wiping down the wood shelves like a mad woman.

  Through the fog of my seething anger, I notice her matted hair and dirt-smeared face.

  I clear my throat.

  She looks up, yelping in surprise. “You scared the shit out of me!”

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  She struggles to pull herself up to stand and looks around the room. “Uh, my job. What time is it?”

  She’s pale as fuck, eyes sunken and telling of her exhaustion. There’s also a fire in them. And I don’t miss the way her jaw clenches when she looks at me.

  “Your job can wait. I�
��m pretty sure I made that clear before I left.”

  “Yeah? And I trusted you to keep your fucking mouth shut about me, but you didn’t.”

  What the hell is she talking about?

  I’ll find out. But when I do, it won’t be in front of an audience. And the guys are due back soon. I take her hand—glove and all because at this point, I couldn’t give a fuck about germs—and pull her around the corner of the bar.

  “Wait, where are we going?” She struggles against my grip and I hold tighter.

  I don’t answer. She’ll figure it out soon enough.

  We make long strides down the hallway and I kick the cracked door of my room the rest of the way open with the toe of my boot.

  “You remember how I told you I’m in control behind this door.” I make sure and slam it behind us.

  Her eyes widen. She jerks from my hold. “Hey, wait a second. First off, I was doing my job.”

  “How I told you I was going to set boundaries and hold you accountable when you crossed them?”

  “You told them where I live!” she screams, her face red with anger. She takes her gloves off and throws them, the latex making a slapping sound as it hits my face.

  My nostrils flare and I fix her with a look. “You better calm down, girl.”

  “Don’t you tell me to calm down!” Her hand wraps around a half empty bottle of water.

  I point at her in warning. “You throw that, and it’s your ass.”

  “Fuck you!” She hurls the bottle at my head. I block it with my forearm.

  Her eyes follow my hands as I undo my belt, ripping it through the loops of my jeans. She takes a step back. I shake my head. “Run and it’ll be worse for you.”

  “You expect me to just stand here and let you beat me?”

  “I expect you to bend your ass over that bed and take what’s coming to you.”

  Her eyes dart from my face to the belt. I grip the buckle and wrap the leather once around my hand.

  “W-why do you think I would willingly do that? Do I look like an idiot to you? I’m sick, remember?”

  “You’re not too sick to work. Not too sick to scream at me or throw shit at me. So you’re not too sick to get your ass whipped. Now, I won’t ask again, sweetheart. Get your ass over that bed now and I’ll let you keep your pants on.”

  Her mouth opens and closes but no words come out. She fists her hands at her sides and plants her feet.

  I’m out of patience.

  I close the distance between us. The back of her knees hit the bed and she falls back, scooting to the center.

  “Take your pants off.”

  “I’m not taking off shit!”

  “Either you do it or I’ll do it for you.”

  I know her next move before she makes it. So when she digs her heels in to scramble off the opposite side of the bed, I grab her ankle and pull her back to the edge. She flips to her stomach and claws at the covers to get away. I pin her with my weight.

  “So fucking stubborn,” I say low in her ear. I keep her pinned with my forearm and fist her pants and panties before ripping them down to the middle of her thighs. She flails but it’s pointless. The belt lands quick and sharp against her flesh.

  Her breath leaves her in a whimper-moan.

  My cock thickens.

  “You…you—”

  “I what?” I move my arm from her back and fist her hair, forcing her around to look at me.

  She looks at me, and I see emotions that range from anger to pain to desire reflected back at me. “You can’t do this.”

  “I told you I would. And if there is one thing you can count on, it’s me keeping my word. This is happening. Lie still and take it, and I’ll forget that you threw shit at me.”

  “I asked you not to tell them. Why did you.”

  Why indeed?

  “Because, like me, they care about you. It didn’t feel right that I knew and they didn’t.”

  She chews at her lip in thought. When she turns those big, brown eyes on me, I want to forget punishing her so I can bury myself inside her.

  “I’m sorry I threw things at you.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say, baby.” Unable to stop myself, I press my lips to the corner of her mouth, needing just a taste of her. When I pull back, I steel my gaze. “Now I’m going to make sure you never do it again.”

  I loosen my grip on her hair and she buries her face in the covers. When I move my arm from the small of her back, she doesn’t move out of position.

  I waste no time. I want this to be over so I can hold her. Kiss her. Smell her. Do all the things I’ve wanted to do since I left her this morning.

  The belt lands and she stiffens. The next two come in quick succession. By the fourth, she finds her voice and her instinct to flee kicks in. I hold her in place as my belt lands again and again, making sure every inch of her ass is marked.

  “You’re not fully recovered,” I lecture, not pausing my swing as I do. “Being pissed at me is not a good enough excuse to jeopardize your health. And you do not throw things at me.” I put a little more force into the next few licks and she screams into the mattress. “Do you understand me?”

  “Yes!”

  “Are we going to have to do this again?”

  She struggles to catch her breath to answer me. “N-n-no, sir.” I finish up with three more licks to the meatiest part of her ass then drop the belt.

  “Good girl.” My voice is soft. My fingers trace the heated flesh and she whimpers. “Hush. It’s over.” She deserved this. And fuck, I wanted to give it to her. But I also know this is likely the first time she’s ever felt the sting of a belt. So as much as I wanted to punish her, I want to take care of her even more.

  When I touch her hip she flinches away from me and my heart sinks.

  Fuck.

  I remove her shoes and socks. Her pants and panties have settled around her ankles and I push them off too. I’m nervous when I lean down to pull her to me. Scared to death that I took it too far. That she’s scared of me now. That she won’t forgive me.

  I swallow back the doubt and turn her to her side. Her hair covers her face, matted in her tears. “Come here, baby. Let me hold you.”

  She immediately reaches for me and I place her arms around my neck. I stand and her legs wrap around my waist. I bury my nose in her hair and inhale. “I missed you so goddamn much.”

  “I missed you too.”

  “I know you’re feeling better, but you overexerted yourself today.”

  “I just wanted to do my job. I need this paycheck.”

  “You’ll have a paycheck, if I have to pay the motherfucker myself, Apple.”

  When she looks at me this time, I see something she hasn’t shown me before—gratitude…trust.

  I walk us to the bathroom and set her on her feet. But even when I turn on the shower, I keep my hand on her hip, not ready to break contact with her just yet.

  “Raise your arms.”

  She doesn’t hesitate like before, raising her arms above her head. Our eyes don’t leave one another as I undress her.

  I help her step over the side and under the spray.

  When I pull my shirt over my head and slip my boots off, she watches me.

  When I step into the shower with her, she doesn’t protest.

  I pour some shampoo into my hand and lather her hair.

  She closes her eyes and a little moan escapes her. “Feels so good.”

  Her words satisfy me for several different reasons. Part possession, part innate male pride. “I want to make you feel good.”

  I turn her around and tilt her head back, the water cascading over her hair. She winces when the hot spray lands on her spanked ass.

  I take the soap in my hand and lather up my body. Then her. Starting at her neck, my hands graze over her shoulders and down her arms. When they cup her breast, her head tilts forward, eyes on my hands.

  They follow as I caress over the smooth plain of her stomach. I bend down on my hau
nches, face to face with the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen. My hands smooth over her hips and around to her ass, squeezing gently, spreading, forcing her to come closer. She whimpers—a mixture of pain and pleasure.

  I look up at her. I don’t want to stop, but I need to know she wants what I want.

  Her hands fall to my hair, fingers finding their way to my scalp. I grip her hip with one hand, my other coming around to cup her sex.

  I hear her inhale. “More.”

  My middle finger finds its way between the lips of her pussy, gently teasing there.

  “More what?” I want to hear her. I add pressure, my finger circling her clit.

  “More. Please.” Her fingers press into my scalp harder, almost pulling my mouth to her.

  I push a finger into her and she moans. It sounds too good coming from her and I want to hear it again. I slide another finger into her and her hips flex forward.

  I put her leg over my shoulder. When I put my mouth to her with a long lick, she presses into me.

  I grip her ass and eat her like a starved man. She rocks against my face. Holding me to her. Taking what she wants. I want to be the one in control. The one who tells her when she can come. But the sight of her, fucking my face—her mouth open, her eyes squeezed shut, it’s fucking gorgeous.

  I suck her clit hard and she screams her pleasure. I move my thumb to her clit, gently massaging there while my tongue fucks her—finding every sweet drop of her release.

  “You taste so motherfucking good.” My dick throbs. I can’t wait to be inside her. “But I need to fuck you.”

  I stand, pulling her up to wrap her legs around me.

  Sliding into her is good. Too. Fucking. Good.

  She’s so tight it almost hurts.

  My back falls against the shower wall, her hands pressed against either side of my head as she finds my mouth.

  “You like that, baby?”

  She nods, breathless. “So…good.”

  I thrust into her hard. I want it harder. I drop her legs to the floor, switching spots with her and pinning her to the wall.

  I palm the back of her thigh and lift her leg so her foot is settled on the edge of the tub. I enter her from behind and she moans. I chase that sound. Chase this feeling.