by Nicole Fox
She kept working, and I kept paying her for sex, but the time in between was more than that. And as I started working my way through the ranks and building my business, I promised her I’d get her out of that life. I wanted to fill her with babies and give her a house with a white picket fence, because that’s what dumbass boys in love promise to people they love.
When she did get pregnant, I took half my savings and paid off her pimp, telling him she was mine and he was to stay away or end up with a bullet in his head. I meant it, too, and he left with a few choice words and a bag of money, but he kept his word and he never bothered her again.
It was Giselle who was dead within the year, dead from complications having Shannon. I had raced her to the hospital, the whole time arguing about baby names. She liked Shannon, and I wanted something else—a name I can’t even remember nowadays, but felt worth fighting for in the moment.
She told me she hated me about fourteen times during labor. I loved her even more as I watched what she went through, and when Shannon was born, her father was, too. They say it’s like that for men, that the father is born with the baby. And as I cut the cord and asked questions about her weight and length, Giselle flatlined.
Her heart just couldn’t take it. She never got a chance to hold her baby.
I killed the pimp a few days after her death, just because I could. I’d have killed seven more people if my sister hadn’t forced me to stay with Shannon, to be a father. I wasn’t good at it. I drank a lot and I needed a lot of guidance. I hated being a father because I was doing it without the woman I loved.
But Shannon means everything to me now. I would literally pull someone’s balls off with my bare hands if they hurt her. I know Draven must feel the same, and that’s why I can’t fully claim his daughter like some common whore. I need her to be able to go home, if she wants to, and claiming her means something in our world. If I claim her and then send her home, it will mark her as damaged. If I claim her and keep her, then she’s mine to manage.
I know I’m just using her, making a point, staking a claim so I can make the most of this shit situation Spike created. But I need to send her home. After I get Draven’s club out of my borders. After I get him to cede land that should be mine anyway. I’ve got to find a way to allow her to go home with her honor intact.
This whole situation really pisses me off. I’m angry. Angry because I’ve let myself brood over Giselle. She’s been dead five years and I rarely allow myself to think about her. Angry about Spike and this garbage behavior out of him lately. Angry for not being a better father. Angry for wanting this young woman when I have too many other things to worry about right now.
When I walk in on a group of club members in a brawl, I toss my kutte and T-shirt to the side and join the melee.
A roundhouse kick to the kidney lands squarely, pitching me forward. I recover right off the bat and turn to find Spike there, grinning ear to ear.
“Welcome back, boss.”
“What, you haven’t had enough?” I ask.
We dance around each other, oblivious to the rest of the fighting around us. This is pretty normal at the club—guys need to let off some steam after tense deals go down. I usually don’t participate, but fuck if this asshole hasn’t pissed me off enough for me to come out swinging. Add in the girl and I am a nuclear bomb ready to drop.
“Enjoy getting your fuck stick licked out there, boss?” Spike asks as he punches at my jaw. I duck and land one to his gut instead. He wheezes, but manages to say, “She’s a pretty little cunt, isn’t she? You should be thanking me.”
It bothers me more than I would ever admit to hear him call Tanner a cunt. I punch him in the jaw for it, and he lands a knee to my lower abdomen.
“If you don’t claim that little bitch for real, I certainly will,” Spike says. “My old lady don’t mind when I get a little side ass.”
I’ve got him by the throat in an instant, lifting him into the air and throwing him like a bag of grain. He hits a nearby table and scrambles to his feet.
“That little girl’s got you all in a twist,” Spike sneers. “This club don’t need no pussy for a leader, David. Just get it hard and jam it in. Take her like you need to and claim what’s yours.”
The way he says my real name, like it’s a sickness in his mouth—it makes me see red. I fly toward him, knocking him to the ground, my knee on his chest as I pummel his face for the second time in less than 48 hours.
“Watch yourself,” I growl. “Unless you want to end up buried out back.”
This time I don’t need my guys to pull me off. I manage to pull back, leaving him lying motionless on the floor. I stalk off, telling one of my club members to make sure he’s breathing. Part of me hopes he’s not.
As I walk down the hall, I’m tempted to head out, to go to Cary’s place. I’d give anything to curl up with my daughter, to hear her breathing. But I can’t. Spike is too volatile, and the situation with Tanner and the Grave Robbers is likely to hit a crescendo soon.
I pull out my phone as I near the bedroom, calling Cary’s number. When she answers, I have to tell her I can’t come home tonight. Or any time soon, for that matter. It’s not safe. Draven will now know Tanner is here. He’ll look for any way to get me and that includes taking my daughter, the way he thinks I’ve taken his.
# # #
Tanner
He bangs through the door, throws his kutte and T-shirt to the floor and stomps into the bathroom, starting the shower and pulling the door so that it’s only slightly ajar. No acknowledgement of me whatsoever as I lie in one of his T-shirts on the bed, reading another nasty romance novel.
I tiptoe to the door, hoping to figure out where he went and what he did after leaving me in the dining room alone. It surprised me so much to be left without a guard. I almost walked straight out the front door.
It’s just that … Kit wants me to marry him. He’s twice my age and not at all my type. It weirds me out. If I go back, he’ll discipline me for having allowed myself to become Griz’ whore. I’ve seen it, when girls have left the club to go to another, only to come back begging for forgiveness or protection.
And the thought of him on top of me, his cock in me … it turns my stomach.
I listen as Griz apologizes to someone on the other end of the phone. From the soft tone of his voice, I gather it’s his daughter and it breaks my heart to know she expects him home, but he won’t come.
After he hangs up, I give it a minute and then poke my head in, only to find him sitting on the edge of the tub, head in his hands. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability he’s showing me. The fact that he told me about his daughter at all is huge, and now he’s allowing me to see him like this?
I fall to my knees in front of him, not caring that I’m naked under the soft, white T-shirt I stole from his drawer. I put my hands on his cheeks and he looks at me with suspicious, narrowed eyes. Fuck, this guy is beautiful.
“You think you come off as this bad ass, this horrible person,” I say. “You’re not a bad person.”
He pulls away from my touch, stands, takes control once more. “You don’t know fuck all about me, little girl.”
“I’m not a little girl,” I say.
He examines his knuckles, swollen and bloody again, and shakes out his hands. I take the opportunity to touch his chiseled chest, running my hands all over him. He puts his hands over mine and stops me.
“Knock it off,” he warns, his voice gruff.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because you don’t want this,” he says. “This place is a fucking shit show and someone is going to die before things settle down again. Might be your dad. Might be me.”
“He’s a reasonable man,” I say. “Let me tell him you’ve been kind to me.”
“Kind?” he scoffs.
“You could have raped me. You didn’t. You could have hurt me. You didn’t. That’s more than many others would do,” I say, feeling naïve for saying it.
He use
s it against me. “You think because I didn’t beat you or stick my cock in you … that counts as kindness? What the fuck’s wrong with your meter?”
“It’s just that ...”
He makes a disgruntled noise and says, “Get some sleep.”
He pulls off his boots and socks and follows with his pants. I nearly salivate over the sight of his naked body. Into the shower he goes, slamming the glass door and closing his eyes as he dips under the water.
“Fuck this,” I say under my breath, pulling open the door and stepping inside with him. He watches as the water soaks the shirt, becoming transparent, exposing the outline of my breasts all the way down to below my navel. I run my fingertips over my nipples and they pebble for me.
“This is my choice,” I say.
“Well, it’s not mine,” he says roughly. “Get out.”
I pull the shirt over my head and stand with my hands on my hips. “No.”
He spins me around so he’s got my back against his abdomen again. He seems to like to do this when he’s trying to project power. It’s like looking at my face humanizes me more and forces him to think of me as a woman and not an object.
I push away from him, out of his grasp, spinning back around. I grab his cock, huge and erect, and start massaging it. He growls, low and menacing.
He tries to ignore me as I play, but I can see the lust in his eyes. I step closer, still rubbing his dick, and allow my breasts to rub against his chest. He looks down at me and I take the opportunity to stand on tiptoes, my lips meeting his.
“Don’t,” he snaps. “Don’t kiss me.”
“Fuck you,” I say, putting my arms around his neck, forcing my lips to his again, biting at his bottom lip.
He’s over it then, picking me up, our slick bodies meeting, his huge cock between my legs as he shuts off the water and kicks the door open. Soaking wet, he carries me to the bed and tosses me down, his mouth meeting mine so roughly that our teeth knock together.
I wiggle and squirm against him, heat rising in my belly. Our chests press together— there’s no space between us as we kiss.
When he pulls away, it’s only to move down, his teeth finding my taut nipples. “These are perfect,” he says, alternating between biting and sucking, sending shockwaves down to my core. I arch toward him, trying desperately to connect my aching pussy with his thick cock. It’s like metal there between my legs and I want it.
I realize I’m begging, whimpering. “Please, please,” I cry out. “Please fuck me. Please.”
He places his thumb on my clit and I cry out, the sensation so good but not enough. He dips a finger between my swollen folds, finding my wet hole, pushing inside.
It’s so tight, just one finger. I could come like this. He pushes slowly at first, then faster, and I feel myself building, building, building.
When he tries to fit another finger, though, he hits a barrier and reality dawns on him. His eyes go wide and he withdraws, taking a step back, leaving me flushed and wanting and frustrated.
I meet his surprised eyes and we stare at each other for a few heartbeats.
“You’ve never?” he asks.
I shake my head, blushing with embarrassment. “No.”
He hisses and walks toward the closet, punching a hole in the wall. “Fuck,” he spits as he pulls clothing from his closet and dresses. He throws a flannel shirt at me. “Cover yourself.”
I sit up. “No.”
He’s back in front of my before I can blink, his hand on my throat as he forces me down to the bed again. “You don’t get to say no to me.”
“You can’t scare me,” I say, not even trying to fight back.
He sticks his finger back inside me without preamble, his other hand still ready to choke me to death. His thumb finds my clit again and he starts a punishing rhythm against my pussy. As he fucks me with his finger, he stares into my eyes, anger and frustration pushing his eyebrows together. His nostrils flare and he wears a deep scowl.
“You think I’m some nice guy?” he says. “I’m not. I’m the only thing between you and something worse, though.”
My hips thrust to meet his violence, an orgasm nearly ready to rip me in two. Sensing it, he picks up the pace, lowering his face to just inches from mine. But just as I hit the peak, he withdraws. Lets go of my throat. Backs away.
Griz points a finger at me. “I say what happens here.”
And then he’s gone again.
Chapter Six
Griz
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Tanner Williams is a fucking virgin. I want to take a sword to Spike’s neck and sever his head. I want to chain him to a post and let the vultures pick his skin from his bones.
I will fucking kill that fucking piece of shit. He was going to have me claim a virgin, rape a virgin.
Except, it wouldn’t be rape now, would it? No, because she wants me. She’s tried every trick in the book to get me to fuck her. And I want to. I want that sweet, bare little cunt on my dick more than I’ve ever wanted much of anything in my life.
If I take her, though …
I don’t need this. I don’t need a woman to complicate my life. I need Spike gone. I need territory expanded. I need deals to go the fucking way they’re supposed to. I do not need a goddamned waif in my bed or worse, in my head.
I pound my fists into the punching bag in the club’s gym. My hands hurt from the two beatings I gave Spike’s face but I don’t care. The only thing that’s going to help right now is violence.
Dex wanders in, eyebrows raised as he takes in the amount of energy I’m channeling into the punching bag.
“Everything okay, boss?” he asks.
“You tell me,” I say, not looking at him.
“The guys are sort of feeling antsy,” he says. “Spike’s been taking cuts of the merchandise. Saying a lot of stuff about how we need to get dirtier, play the game better. Some of the guys are starting to rally behind him.”
Just what I need. Great. Time to be the Big Boss.
“Last I checked, this was my club,” I growl, turning toward him. I must look like a real bastard because he puts his hands up to placate me. “Spread the word that no one makes a decision without my permission. I don’t care if you’re choosing between pancakes and breakfast cereal, you ask me first. You want to screw a girl? Ask me first. Need to piss? Better get permission. Got it?”
“Yeah, okay, boss,” he says.
“Meeting in two nights; all members need to be present. Spread the word.”
Dex confirms and takes his cue to leave. I keep punching the bag until I literally can’t anymore. I think about sleeping in one of the guest rooms, but fuck, this is my club. My property. Fuck if that girl is going to keep me from my own bed. It’s bad enough I can’t go be with my daughter; I won’t be forced out of my space here, too.
Of course, the obvious question is, why I don’t find her a bedroom of her own while she’s here? Why do I want her in my bed, her blonde hair splayed across my pillow, her scent permeating my sheets?
I bust in and find her sound asleep, curled up on the chaise with one of Giselle’s dumb romance books in her lap. She’s in my flannel shirt and her long legs are smooth and perfect. Almost … I almost reach out and run a hand up one shapely calf, up to her outer thigh. Almost, but I stop myself, instead covering her with a blanket and heading to get a shower.
Of course, the thought of that girl is all up in my head. My dick is hard and the more I try not to think about the feel of her pussy around my fingers, the tightening that indicated just how ready she was to burst, the more I want her.
It’s a rare day when I’m forced to rub one out, but I do. I stand there sweating, working my cock like nobody’s business, looking at this sleeping beauty like a fucking peeping Tom. She stretches in her sleep and it’s so sexy that I come, spraying my gunk into my hand.
Could I have gone and found any number of club girls to fuck tonight? Yes. They’d have been ready and willing. I could have had t
wo or three if I’d been in the mood. But here I am, behaving like some frustrated teen, whacking off in the shadows, wishing only for the beautiful virgin sleeping in my bed.
It’s pathetic and it pisses me off, and I stew over it for hours, barely finding any sleep at all.
# # #
Tanner
I wake up covered in a soft blanket. I must have fallen asleep reading, but I know I didn’t have a blanket when I sat down.
Griz is asleep in the bed, sprawled across the mattress, big body taking up the whole thing. He’s got one arm splayed wide and one up, forearm over his eyes. I take in the muscles of his chest, the hair there. I ache to run my fingers through his thick, close-trimmed beard and his wavy, dark hair. His cheekbones could cut someone, and his lips are … oh god, so good.
