by Addison Jane
Sage’s hands gave way, and she dropped to her stomach with her ass still propped in the air as though she was a stretching cat. I moved with her, bracing my body over hers as I fought to catch my breath and stop seeing fucking stars.
“Hype,” she hummed softly, turning her head just enough for me to see the soft smile on her face.
Despite my body still fucking shaking, I pushed up on my hands and pressed a trail of kisses up her spine, her skin hot and flushed, almost feeling like it was burning against my lips. “You feel good now?” I murmured back, sweeping her hair to the side.
“The best,” she whispered, chewing on her lip.
My hands traced over the curve of her hips as I sat back, my dick slowly slipping from inside her. Her body shuddered at the loss, my cum gently leaking from inside her and down the inside of her leg. It was almost enough to make me want to go for round fucking two.
The satisfied smile instantly dropped from her face as she rolled onto her back, pulling the mess of blankets across her body. “You just gonna leave?”
“No,” I answered instantly, leaning over her and wrapping my arms around her waist. Lifting her off the bed with one arm while yanking back the sheets with the other, I dropped her back in between them and she stared up at me for a brief second. “What?”
She cleared her throat and pressed her lips together, thinking silently.
“You gotta talk, pretty girl,” I told her sternly, grabbing the bottom of my shirt and tugging it up over my head before tossing it into the corner of the room.
“Can you hit the on button on the television,” she murmured, barely loudly enough for me to hear. I raised my brow questioningly like maybe I hadn’t heard her correctly. “I don’t like silence.”
I wanted to ask why, question it, question everything fucking about her.
But there would be time.
Plenty of fucking time while she was sitting in a room upstate, hating me.
So I walked over and hit the on button, the television coming to life screening some fucking game show. Before I moved back to the bed, I walked over to where my club cut was still hanging and pulled my phone from the pocket inside, hitting Nycto’s number.
One ring.
“Yo,” he rasped. “It’s all ready for you.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow. Lunch timeish.”
Nycto began to chuckle, and I could see the fucking smart-ass bastard shaking his head. “You stuck your dick in her, huh? Bet it was sweet like fucking sugar, and now you got a damn sweet tooth.”
I lowered my voice, pressing my palm against the back of the fucking bedroom door as I hung my head. “Don’t be a fucker,” I snapped, hating how fucking right he was. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”
“Sure, brother.” He laughed, the sound of a soft voice crying out for help in the background, instantly sending a chill through me, letting me know he was in his place. A place I’d only ever visited once and couldn’t fucking again. It was a dark reminder that although Nycto and I were close, and we both went through hell to get to find our places in the club, the outcomes of our pasts had been clearly different.
He still had his shit to deal with.
I had made peace with mine a long time ago.
“I’ll call you when I leave,” I said finally, hanging up before he could fire anything back. If there was one thing about the friendship him, Hatch, and I had, it was that none of us were fucking afraid to call the others out when they felt like something needed saying.
That wasn’t the end of it.
When I saw him tomorrow, I was going to get hell.
I’d deal with it then.
Maybe between him calling me out for fucking her before taking her, and Sage being pissed about the same thing, they could form some fucking hate club.
I tucked my phone away and crawled into bed, her tiny body instantly shuffling toward me, hesitantly.
I hooked my arm around her.
Pulling her in, every part of me screaming about how fucking weird it felt, but how fucking good at the same time, and I had to make the most of it.
Tomorrow she wasn’t going to let me fucking near her, and all of this night was going to be was a fucking distant memory.
SAGE
Everything ached as I rolled over.
My body instantly stretching out, a high, satisfied moan leaving my lips as I worked out the tight muscles.
His laughter had me pause mid-stretch, my eyes blinking open and fighting against the brightness of my bedroom to find him standing in my bedroom doorway, dressed, with wet hair.
“You’re like a fucking kitten.”
“Because I’m cute?” I threw out there, rolling over onto my stomach and pulling my pillow against my naked breasts.
“No, because you like to nuzzle and cuddle and be annoying in your sleep,” he teased, shaking his head. “Come on, get up. I made coffee.”
He slipped out the door as fast as he came in, and I scrambled to get out of the bed, still using the sheets to cover my body as I shuffled toward the connecting bathroom. Catching sight of my hair in the mirror and the damn mess it was in, my inhibitions from last night sent a short flash of heat across my cheeks. But I didn’t know why because what the hell was I expecting when I invited him in? He was a fucking biker. The guy was sexuality personified—the muscles, the tattoos, the third leg that hung between his other two.
Me embarrassing myself was nothing new to him.
I just couldn’t fight the way he worked my body. The way he flicked some switch no one had really stepped near before. The same one I’d been waiting for someone just to grow some balls and turn on for years.
I quickly jumped in the shower, washing my body clean before pulling on my fresh work outfit and rushing out to the kitchen.
He wasn’t joking.
He’d made coffee, and it was sitting on the counter next to a pile of pancakes. Hype was leaning back against the cupboard, a coffee mug in his hands, but his eyes focused straight ahead. Almost like he was thinking pretty seriously, and I really didn’t want to disturb him.
“Wow,” I exclaimed, laughing softly as I climbed up onto one of my bar stools. “I didn’t see you as the cook-breakfast-for-a-girl-in-the-morning type of guy. That a usual thing wherever you’re from?”
Hype shook his head, his eyes finally drawn from his daydream to meet mine. His eyes stayed dipped low and menacingly beneath his heavy brow. His shoulders pulled in a little around him, while he clutched his coffee tightly between his hands.
“Guys only cook breakfast when they fuck shit up,” he answered, the sharpness to his tone cutting all the relaxed emotions, all those playful comments instantly dead in the air.
Something had changed.
Either overnight, or in the last fifteen minutes, I wasn’t sure.
I placed my fork down. “I have to go to work.”
“You call in sick.”
My gut was stirring. My heart thumping unevenly.
“And why would I do that?”
He sipped at his coffee, this dark, ominous chill settling around my shoulders.
“Because we’re going out of town.”
How the hell did I get this so wrong?
I had to hide.
To get the hell out.
The world stalled for a second as I slowly placed my coffee on the counter, then ran.
“Sage,” Hype growled, his heavy boots slamming against the tiled floors as I ducked around the sofa and into the entryway. My hand curled around the door handle, but it was just as swiftly torn away as Hype swept me up into his arms and carried me back toward the living room.
I kicked, cursed, and tried to fight against his tight hold.
Then, he dropped me.
Right onto the sofa with a hard thump that sent a sharp pain shooting up my spine. I fought back the tears, rolling to the side and sitting my body up, but he reached out, grabbing my jaw and holding it fucking tightly until I was forced to look him in the eye. �
�You gonna listen? Or am I going to tie you down?”
I reacted, slapping his hand away and shoving against his chest, disconnecting that closeness that even just a few moments ago, I was craving. “Fuck you,” I hissed, not sure what was going on, but knowing for a fact that I had been royally screwed over. I’d been a fucking sucker. Fallen for his bad jokes and wicked mouth.
He leaned over me, bracing his hands on either side of the sofa at the sides of my head.
My breathing was heavy and a little erratic. I was fighting the embarrassing tears that were threatening to blink right down onto my lashes. “What the hell is going on?”
“We’re going for a drive up to Tampa,” he answered coldly, shoving his body back and stepping away. The expressive way his face changed was gone, and now it was left blank and hard. “Just until your daddy decides to play along.”
My dad?
He’d just gotten a new job.
Chief of Police, in Miami, where the club was located.
It was like my life stuck on fucking repeat.
“Of course,” I laughed, tears streaming down my cheeks now, fear settling in my stomach, but it was nowhere in hell as strong as the hatred that had already set up camp there. “It’s always about him. Why am I always so goddamn surprised?”
“You know what kind of man your father is?” Hype questioned, looking over his shoulder at me as he walked over and unlocked the front door, the sound of Harley’s in the distance telling me something new again.
This was bigger, much fucking more than me.
“He fights crime.”
Hype snorted loudly, shaking his head. “Fucking hell,” he cursed. “He fights crime. He’s not a fucking superhero, Sage.”
The mocking tone had me snapping back. “Maybe to me he is. You have no fucking idea who he is.”
“I have plenty of idea who he is,” he roared, the force of his disdain for my father forcing me back for a second and sending my heart racing. That’s what this was. He’d done something to the club, and now they were getting their payback. Through me.
I’d been used.
Fucking used.
I felt sick.
“How much?”
Hype held my gaze. That soft, earthy, and warm feeling I’d felt from his eyes suddenly changed. They were dark, hard, and bitter. “What?” he asked, like he had no idea what I was asking.
I got to my feet, pushing my shoulders back, pretending like my legs weren’t shaking. “How much am I worth to you. What’s my ransom?” I wanted to know. I wanted to know what the hell it was that was so important.
“About a quarter of a million,” a rough voice announced.
Hype stepped out of the way as another body strode in through my front door. I’d seen him at the hospital checking on their club brother. He was taller, not as built or muscular as Hype, but still strong and menacing. His long hair was twirled around itself and tied in a knot on the top of his head.
His club cut he wore proudly displaying the president’s patch across his heart.
Hatchet written just underneath.
“Quarter of a million what?” I whispered, not sure my brain was on the same wavelength as they were talking.
“Fucking dollars,” Hype growled. “That is how much you’re worth. How much I’m going to make if your daddy just steps out of the fucking way for one goddamn night and doesn’t be a fuckhead.”
“He won’t bargain with people like you,” I told him harshly, trying to keep my confidence from wavering in front of these men, but I could tell by the way they both began to smile that they knew better.
I loved my father.
He was my blood.
A piece of me.
But I knew he’d made mistakes, and what’s more, I knew he didn’t exactly do the right thing.
“You know he’s not perfect,” Hype declared, walking forward and forcing me back toward the kitchen.
“And you are?”
“I don’t fucking pretend to be.” Hype laughed, stepping past me, his chest grazing my arm.
I’d seen emails, heard him talking with people over the phone about how he hadn’t done the right thing, about how he was paying for it, but how he just wanted to protect me.
He did it for me.
“You ready to ride out?” Hatchet asked, the steady rumble of motorcycles coming from outside, letting me know they weren’t waiting around. They wanted to move, and now.
“Yeah.” Hype nodded, walking straight toward me. “Just give us a few minutes. She needs to pack.”
He grabbed my arm, forcing me down the hall to my bedroom with his finger digging in painfully and Hatchet muttering to his fucking self behind us. We stepped inside my room, Hype shoving the door closed and me slamming my hands against his chest.
“Keep your hands off me,” I spat, rubbing at what I knew was going to instantly bruise. “Just stay the hell away from me.”
When he came at me again, this time I didn’t cower back.
I wasn’t afraid of him.
I didn’t think I was anyway.
Because in my gut, despite the humiliation I felt from last night, from thinking maybe he actually fucking felt the things I felt, I knew he wasn’t trying to hurt me. He stood over me, looking down, his hand reaching out to pluck a stray strand of hair that refused to flow with the others, pushing it back behind my shoulder.
“You be good,” he warned, his tone lower now, softer. The anger gone.
I held my breath, looking up to meet his eyes, instantly regretting the way they swallowed me whole. That softness there, those same eyes I drowned in last night making my chest ache. “This will be over fast if you play nice. You be a good girl, I’ll keep your body happy, and fucking keep you safe,” he murmured, my brow pulling in, my lips pursed.
Keep me safe?
“Am I not safe?”
His hand drifted up over my stomach, his fingers tickling my neck as he wrapped his entire palm around my throat. He just held it there, didn’t squeeze, didn’t move, but leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.
It was soft.
Gentle.
My heart, my head, and my body were all, in that moment, so fucking confused.
The back and forth of this damn man giving me a kind of whiplash that I was scared at some point could break my neck.
“Just. Be. Good.”
I heard the words.
But I just couldn’t promise I would.
SAGE
“Why no handcuffs?”
Hype didn’t even look out of the corner of his eye to acknowledge me as we sped along the highway.
Harley’s rumbled right beside us, practically surrounding the vehicle like some kind of police escort. My foot tapped nervously on the floor, my stomach still churning as it came to terms with the fact that I’d slept with the enemy.
I guess that was what I could call him.
Hype was more than some sexy, smooth-talking biker. He was more than the guy who I’d given my body to last night. He was my captor.
“I’ve got some in the glove box if you’re feeling a little frisky,” he responded, still staring straight ahead at the road.
“That’s not what I meant,” I snapped, my lip curling in disgust. “I mean… you’re not exactly tying me up and throwing me in a cell.”
“I’m not a fucking monster.”
“No, you just seduced me, fucked me, slept beside me, cooked me breakfast, and then announced that I was suddenly some kind of prisoner.” I wrapped my arms a little tighter around my waist. I was scared, but also, for some strange reason, I wasn’t. These emotions I was feeling had me kind of screwed up in the head. One moment I wanted to seek comfort in his arms, then I had to remind myself that it was those arms I couldn’t trust.
“I could have broken into your house last night, dragged you out of bed, and scared the fuck out of you.” A long, deep shudder went through me, the thought of being attacked at night, my biggest fear, something I may never have come
down from.
“Shhh,” my mom whispered as she held me against her body and shuffled out of my room and down the hall.
I blinked, trying to clear my vision, but it was still nighttime and everything was dark—the only light shining was the tiny hallway nightlight that I used to see my way to the bathroom.
Crash.
The loud, destructive sound came from outside, and the sound of voices soon following.
Mom froze, her entire body tensing and going completely still, except for the pounding of her heart that I could feel as she pulled me in a little tighter against her chest.
I cleared my throat, shaking my head and pulling my knees to my chest.
“You good?” his rough voice asked, this time his eyes on me, not the road.
“I’m fine.”
“Fucking lie.”
I scoffed. “All right, so tell me, why am I worth so much? My dad doesn’t have millions of dollars. He doesn’t have a fucking lot,” I rambled, placing my cheek on my knees. I should know what he has, given that I’ve had to lend him money not just recently, but frequently.
“He has something else he can offer me,” Hype explained, his hands gripping harder on the steering wheel.
“Like what?”
“A window of time.”
I wasn’t sure why it hadn’t clicked before, but I was suddenly very aware of just what this was all about. The money amount they were talking had me confused. But they weren’t referring to cash. They were referring to what something was worth.
My ransom.
“Drugs. This is about fucking drugs,” I muttered to myself as small, hysterical laughter built as I finally started to piece this all together.
Motorcycle club.
Criminals.
Kidnapping.
Bribery.
Of course, there were drugs involved.
“My name didn’t tip you off, huh?” Hype asked with a smirk, relaxing one arm back and resting his tattooed hand on his thigh. I kept trying to divert my eyes, not take in the different things about him. Things I wanted to question, like what his tattoos meant? Why did he get them? Things that would tell me a little about who he was. I couldn’t, though. I was already feeling too deep like I was standing in quicksand and everything about Hype was just going to suck me in and destroy me if I wasn’t careful.
