by Jenika Snow
She started to struggle against him. In all of her life she’d never been spoken to like that. No man had ever left her feeling so small. Against her own wishes, tears filled her eyes. She tried to force them down. He didn’t deserve to see her cry.
Get yourself together, Deanna.
“Get the fuck away from me.”
“So, the little wildcat has claws.”
She growled at him, wishing he’d just leave her alone.
“I look forward to you using those claws on me.” He released her, backing out of the room. “Until next time.”
“There will never be a next time.”
“We’ll see.”
He closed the door behind him and she heard the lock click. Glancing around the room, she ran her fingers through her hair several times. Did that really happen? Her tears spilled down her cheeks as she became aware of the ache throughout her body. It had happened and so had Demon’s rejection. She hated him, despised him. Grabbing the blanket, she couldn’t even bring herself to get back on the bed. Sinking to the floor, she wrapped her arms around her body, trying to hold onto her sanity.
Everything will be okay.
She didn’t know how it was going to be okay. Deanna was alone in an MC with no one to know she was still alive.
I’m alone.
Curling around herself, she started to sob. Her mother was dead and gone, as was her father.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” she said, hoping that her mother could hear her. “I tried. I tried to get him to clean up his act. You must hate me so much.” She wiped a hand down her face, trying to clean away her tears. What had she done to deserve this?
Demon blew hot and cold. Could she last in this club, watching him with other women?
She was just one of many different pussies he had on offer. The very thought of seeing him with someone else left her sick. She shouldn’t want him, especially after what he had just done, how he had just acted toward her.
Pulling the blanket over her head, she tried to hide from the world and everything she’d been through. Her mother wouldn’t answer, nor would her father.
Alone, so alone. She didn’t even have Demon anymore and that thought alone was enough to send her life into a spin.
Joker stared up at the house he’d not been back to in over five years. The last time he’d been here was at a party his folks had. Pulling the shades from his eyes, he looked up at the large house set back from the road. He climbed off his bike, pocketing his sunglasses.
Pulling out his cell, he dialed Demon’s number.
“Yeah?”
“I’m here.”
“Keep in touch, brother.”
Hanging up, Joker didn’t know if he wanted to step closer to that house or run. There were so many memories coming to the fore. Memories he'd locked up years ago. Amy… this house reminded him so much of her. She was the one woman who’d torn at his defenses, making him vulnerable for the first time in his life.
The door opened and there stood his father. David Michaels was over six feet, a giant of a man covered in a shit load of muscle. Standing still, Joker looked at his father, who had just lost his wife.
Joker closed the distance, wrapping his arms around him. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, son.”
“I came as soon as I could.”
“I called you last night. I should have called you sooner but it has been a little crazy in here.” David led the way inside the house.
The moment the door closed, Joker felt the loss of Brenda’s presence. He couldn’t even count the number of times he'd walked inside to the scent of baking. The moment the door closed, he heard her.
Amy. She was sobbing her heart out.
“I’ve not been able to get her to eat or shower. It’s like she’s lost. All she does is cry and sleep. Son, I’m out of my depth. When she had the nightmares in the past, you were there to handle them. I don’t know what to do.”
For his father to admit that, it took a lot of guts. David was not a man to admit defeat. Staring into his father’s blue eyes, Joker nodded. “I’ve not spoken to her in years.”
“She always listened to you. Please, you’ve got to try.”
David didn’t know the truth of what happened five years ago to send him running. No, that was between him and Amy. No one knew the truth, not even Demon.
“Where is she?”
“In her room.”
Removing his leather cut, he walked toward the steps.
“Reese?”
He turned back to look at his father.
“It’s good to have you back.”
Nodding, Joker made his way upstairs. Amy’s room was across from his old one. He stopped when he saw the door was open. Leaning against the doorframe, he stared at the woman who’d done nothing but plague his thoughts. She was a tormented soul at the best of times. Some bad shit had happened to her when she was younger that had changed her life completely.
That same tortured soul was collapsed on the bed, stricken by grief.
Clearing his throat, he entered the room, and quietly closed the door.
The sobbing stopped and when she turned around, green eyes were focused on him.
“Reese,” she said. Her voice was croaky from the hours she spent crying.
“Hello, Amy.”
Her head lay on the pillow. She held onto a teddy bear as she looked at him.
“Mom’s dead.”
“I know, baby.” He took a step closer to her. She didn’t fight him like last time. He moved behind her, lying down next to her.
She didn’t fight him but she did tense by his side. “I’m not going to hurt you, Amy. I’d never hurt you.”
Wrapping his arms around her, Joker closed his eyes as she turned toward him, burying her head against his chest.
“She’s gone, Joker. She’s gone and she’s never coming back.”
He held her tighter, afraid of letting her go. He didn’t want to let her go but remain on the bed, holding her. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Running his hand down her back, he soothed her, promising her that he’d stay. He didn’t know how long he’d be with her. Joker would stay for the funeral—afterward, he didn’t know. Slowly, the tears began to dry up and Amy fell asleep. Joker didn’t know how much time had passed until his father poked his head in.
“Do you want anything to eat?” David asked.
“Not yet. I don’t want to disturb her.”
She snuggled a little closer to him.
Joker didn’t like how frail she felt in his arms. He remembered her being full, rounded in all the right places. What had happened to his little hummingbird?
Chapter 14
Amy wasn’t asleep, but instead lay there, letting Reese hold her close to his body, protected from the world around them. It had been years since she had seen him, so long that right now felt like a dream almost. Her mother was gone, killed by a drunk driver, and she was alone in this world. She might have David, a second father to her after hers had ditched her and her mom when Amy was little, but she knew that David had to deal with his grief himself.
She wasn’t a child, and was old enough to have to deal with this sooner or later on her own. But staying in her old room, holding the bear her mother had given her when she was younger, seemed like a pretty good idea to try and deal with all of this.
“I’m so sorry, Amy,” Reese said softly, right beside her ear, and continued to smooth his hand up and down her back. “I’m so sorry about everything.”
She knew he wasn’t just speaking about her losing her mom, but of the shit that had happened five years ago. At twenty-one she had her own home, a life, a job, and shouldn’t be trying to find comfort in a man that she had run from. All those years ago she had made a fool out of herself after what they had done, and since then she had stayed away. But all of that seemed so silly and ridiculous now. Reese pulled her closer, and she heard him inhale.
“I know you’re up, baby.” He smoothed
his hand over her hair again, speaking softly.
She pulled back slightly, looking into his face. Reese, or Joker as the motorcycle club he was affiliated with called him, was such a strong man. Even after she had probably made him feel like shit for freaking out all those years ago, he was here comforting her. “How can you even want to see me after…” She couldn’t even finish her sentence, too humiliated by everything.
“Amy, I won’t lie and say that I still don’t think about that night five years ago, because I do. It consumes me sometimes.”
She swallowed and closed her eyes. When she opened them again it was to see Reese staring at her with his deep blue gaze. His dark blond hair was a little on the longer side, and he had a days' worth of scruff on his face. He was so big, taking after David in his height and muscle mass, but it was the way he looked at her that had her speechless. It was a vulnerable, sorrow-filled look. Here was this hardcore biker comforting her, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world. He probably did things that would make her cringe, run screaming because it frightened her, but right then she didn’t care.
She couldn’t help it. She started crying harder.
“It’s okay, Amy,” he said softly again.
She shook her head. “No.” She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the tears falling harder. “I lost my mom. Nothing will ever be okay again.”
Demon stared at the mirror behind the bar in the clubhouse, feeling drunk as fuck, pissed at himself for the way he felt for Deanna, and at the way he had handled that encounter with her. He had locked her in the room, knowing that it wasn’t the right move after the way he'd treated her, but feeling like he was on a razor's edge right now. He had grown agitated at the emotions he had for her, at the fact she made him even crazier, and had him feeling this obsession for her that boarded on insanity. He hadn’t gone back in there all night, just laid in the meeting room on the couch. Yeah, he needed to go back there and get her out. But he was still upset with himself that he wanted her like a fiend tweaking for their next hit, like a serial killer needing that rush of blood being spilled.
The sun was starting to rise, and although he had been in the meeting room, he hadn’t really fallen asleep. He was too wound up, too on edge for this woman that had come into his life, twisted it around, and made him realize that he wanted only her.
She was his, and he knew that no amount of backlash toward her, trying to push her away because he was angry with himself, would change that fact. Demon lived a hard life, fucked with purpose, and immersed himself in his biker life. Deanna had become ingrained in their world, in his world, and it was clear that he wouldn’t be able to shake her from the moment he saw that first picture of her.
He pushed away from the bar, turned and faced the stairs that would lead to his room, and grunted out a curse. He was going to just lay it out for Deanna, tell her exactly how he felt, and knew that it would come out harsh and crude. He wasn’t a romantic man, wasn’t used to telling anyone how the fuck he felt. He did whatever the hell he wanted, when he wanted, and fuck anyone who stood in his way. He didn’t become president of this club, run this dammed town, by being some pansy ass motherfucker. He’d die with his cut on, with his men behind his back, and with his patch inked on his skin. That was the way his world worked, how it would always work, and he was content living that way.
Stalking toward his room, he pushed away the club pussy that advanced on him, drunk still from the previous night, and smelling like his brothers. He wasn’t a sloppy second kind of male, and sure as fuck wasn’t interested in their dirty cunts now that he had his woman. Yes, Deanna was his woman, and damn anyone who got in his way of claiming her.
Deanna paced. She was infuriated that she was still locked in this damn room. It was barely morning, but she hadn’t been able to go back to sleep after Demon had locked her in here and had shown her the dick side of him. She had showered, gotten dressed in a pair of his sweats and an oversized t-shirt. Fuck him, his pompous, alpha and domineering ass. She was not going to put up with his shit, not going to be talked down by some biker that thought he could fuck her and just walk away. She wanted Demon, yes, and damn her for being so fucking stupid on that account. But she couldn’t help it, couldn’t help her heart and what it wanted, even if the man she was growing to care for was Demon.
She heard the lock being disengaged and stopped pacing to face the door, ready to give Demon an earful. Maybe the skanks that hung out at the club were okay with being talked to like this but she wasn’t some club pussy. She was a strong, independent woman, and she could handle herself.
Keep telling yourself that, Deanna, especially when it comes to a man like Demon.
He pushed the door open and stood there, intimidating, strong, powerful, and with this expression on his face that had her actually taking a step back. But she held onto her strength, her reserve, and straightened her shoulders.
“Demon, you can’t keep me here like a prisoner every time you have a fucking hissy fit—”
Demon stormed forward and she snapped her mouth shut, felt her eyes widen, and took a step back, but the wall stopped her retreat. He slammed his hands on the wall beside her head, lowered his face to hers, and curled his lip. “You infuriate me, make me insane with lust, and have my fucking dick harder than it has ever been.” He growled, cursed, and stared at her right in the eyes. He was so tall, so muscular, and his dark hair was slightly brushing his forehead. He was a menace, a reckoning of death, pain, and lust, and she felt all of that directed right at her. “I want you, Deanna, and I won’t walk around pretending like what I want with you isn’t something new.” He sounded pissed at himself, and the angry slash of his dark eyebrows told her he was pissed at himself right now.
She swallowed, not knowing if she should push him back or pull him closer. “You can’t talk to me like that, treat me like that, Demon,” she said, softer this time. Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, and she wanted to believe that he realized how he had acted was wrong on every level, psycho even, but then his hard composure came back.
“The way I want you, want to fuck you, claim you, and make sure that no other man touches you ever again is driving me out of my fucking mind, Deanna.” He said her name on a growl. “I’ve never had this possessive need inside of me to own every part of a woman. I fuck pussy when I want, never twice even, but with you—” He lowered his gaze to her mouth, and lower still until he was staring at her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her nipples hardened. “With you I want to beat a motherfucker into the ground that looks at you, tear them apart if they even think about you, and fucking kill them if they touch you.”
A soft gasp of shock and also arousal slammed into her. What in the hell was wrong with her that she was getting wet hearing him proclaim his psychotic obsession with her? Was she so needy for affection, for a man to notice her, that she was blind to the fact that Demon was an animal, a criminal, and a murderer?
He killed for you, Deanna.
Yes, he had, and he had done it without a flicker of emotion on his face, without showing any kind of emotion or remorse over the fact. He had killed her father because of what his junkie ass had done to her; how he had betrayed his own flesh and blood.
Demon placed his hand in the center of her chest, smoothed it down her belly and slipped it between her thighs. He added pressure, just enough that she rose on her toes, opened her mouth, and felt her clit swell.
“This is mine.” He leaned in closer. “Your pussy, your tits, all of it is mine.” He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, and she knew she should catch him off guard, kick him in the nuts for the way he had treated her, but she knew that right now, what he had admitted to her was something he had never done. Demon was a man of few words and harsh actions. But he had told her he wanted her like no other, and a part of her, every part in fact, knew that hearing him say that was a big deal.
“Demon—”
He shook his head. “No, Deanna. You will admit
that you’re mine, that everything about you is mine. I own you, and not because your piece of shit old man handed you over to the club.” He sucked on her bottom lip, dragged his tongue along the swell, and growled like some kind of animal. “I own you because you want to be owned, but only by me. And I want you to admit that, Deanna.”
The he kissed her, claimed her in a way that no other man had ever done before, and she felt her anger mixed with her pleasure. She bit his bottom lip, heard him hiss out, and felt this surge of power go through him. Now she just needed to decide if she really did want to be owned, and by a man like Demon.
Chapter 15
Deanna sizzled in his arms. He couldn’t believe she was so responsive, especially after he'd treated her like shit. She didn’t deserve his bad attitude. He’d make sure he’d never, ever, treat her like he did. The last thing Demon wanted was for her to leave his ass.
Banding his arm around her waist, he kept her close, inhaling her feminine scent as she ravaged his mouth. She bit his bottom lip and he plunged his tongue into her mouth. Their moans echoed together.
Reaching down, he gripped her ass tightly. The fleshy mound filled his palm, making him want more. He wanted her cunt squeezing his cock, washing him with her cream.
“Fuck, baby,” he said, muttering the words against her lips.
“Please, Demon.”
“What do you need, baby?” He pulled away from her to stare into her beautiful green eyes.
“I want you to fuck me.”
He groaned as she ran her hand down the front of his chest to land on his cock. Instantly hard, he knew exactly what to do with it. Drawing his hand around the front of her body, he rubbed her pussy through her sweat pants. The clothes she wore were too big and swamped her smaller body. Sliding his fingers over her clit, he felt the wetness of her pussy through the fabric.
