Wrecked by the Bad Boy: The Sick MC

by Olivia Stephens

  I went deeper and faster, my jaw aching with the movement. But I was on a mission. And I was damned close.

  Zane panted, his body flexing. I could feel it in every part of him. And then he burst in my mouth, and I swallowed the salty liquid greedily. I continued to lap at him until he started softening, and only then did I sit back on my heels and grin up at him.

  His face was pure bliss. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him with such peace. And I had done that. I was on cloud fucking nine, and we hadn’t even really started yet. Zane reached down and scooped me into his arms, lifting me up bridal style as his mouth met mine. I closed my eyes and kissed him, feeling the movement of him beginning to walk somewhere but not really caring where.

  We stopped a moment later, and the sound of a door to the outside opening caused me to open my eyes. We were on a back deck, steps leading down to a yard of green, lush grass. Beyond the yard was a forest of oak trees. At first, I was self-conscious of being naked, but I quickly realized there was nobody around for miles.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said.

  “You’re beautiful.” He put me onto my feet and pulled back the cover of the hot tub, sunk into the side of the deck. Steam glided off the water, rising into tendrils before dissipating. He gestured to the tub. “I’ll be in in a sec.”

  I slipped one foot into the scalding water, then the other, gritting my teeth at the heat. By the time I’d lowered myself in, Zane had stripped and was stepping in beside me. I sat on the bench and leaned back, my pulse still pounding in my throat from our oral adventure moments before. It seemed to be on Zane’s mind too, as his eyes surveyed my arched torso with pleasure.

  “Sit on the edge,” he instructed.

  I raised an eyebrow at him, but his tone left little room for questioning. I trusted him. On shaky thigh muscles, I rose up and scooted until I was sitting on the edge of the hot tub. “Like this?”

  His dark eyes roamed over my body, and he nodded, gliding in front of me and inserting his body between my legs. Our torsos met, and he pulled me in for a hot kiss, sweat prickling at the back of my neck from the steam.

  He began to slide down my body, keeping my legs pushed apart as he settled between my thighs. His eyes stayed on me the whole time, burning a hole deep into me. Oh God, those eyes would be the death of me.

  His first lick at my core sent a shiver of delicious pleasure through me. He teased me in the way I’d been too anxious to tease him, sliding his tongue along my most delicate areas and then pulling away. I sighed and leaned my weight onto my hands behind me, his mouth taking me on a journey of my own body.

  When he began to suckle in earnest, I was already so close that I wanted to scream—just as he’d promised he would make me do. The light pressure of his tongue swirling through my folds was bliss, plain and simple. Each stroke delivered me a step higher toward my orgasm, promising a release that would buckle me.

  It was everything I could do not to buck against him as he lavished me. I was so close, my chest heaving with exertion. I clutched at him with my legs and let out a roaring moan. No, not a moan—a scream. It shattered the quiet and was gone as quickly as it had come. And I, back to my shaking self, slid down into the water and collapsed against him.

  His breath tickled my ear. “Told you.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Never.” He nipped my neck. “Think you can handle another?”

  I looked up into the swirling depths of his eyes, admiring the long lashes and perfect slope of his nose. His lips were quirked at the edges. A challenge.

  “Always,” I replied.

  He kissed me gently, pulling me tight against his body as we lowered ourselves further into the water. I straddled his lap, surprised to find he was already erect. But, then again, my man never did need much prompting. With his hands gripping my hips, he lifted me and lowered me again, sheathing himself to the hilt in my molten core.

  Moisture dripped from our faces as we ground together. I couldn’t tell whether it was sweat or steam from the water. I didn’t care. All that mattered was the pulsing flood of sensation coming from the place our bodies met. We were one in the water, rippling and shifting just like the liquid around us. Each movement was seamless, perfect.

  My sighs against his lips, his neck, soon turned into moans, which turned into short cries of delight. He carried the pace up, beginning to drive into me with each thrust. Our dance became frenzied. Our breathing labored and heavy.

  My body was on fire. Each bundle of nerves glowed brighter than the last, yet ached to reach completion. And it was so close. I knew instinctively that this would be more powerful than the last, and that only made me hungrier for it. I ground down as he pushed up, and after a few thrusts, the motion sent me spiraling over the edge of my release. I panted into his throat, clutching desperately at his back as I rode out the pleasure of my orgasm.

  Zane groaned and held me tight, emptying himself into me. Our bodies may as well have been fused together, one mass of pleasure and bliss. The night was quiet again. We were quiet.

  We were at peace.

  Some time later, after ordering take out and drinking a bottle of wine together in the dying spring light, we lay in the midst of what felt like dozens of blankets and sheets in an enormous bed that couldn’t possibly have been meant just for two people.

  “I want one of these,” I commented sleepily, my head rested on Zane’s chest.

  He laughed. “I’ll get you one.”

  Zane, I could tell, was struggling to stay awake. His eyes had given up the fight a quarter of an hour ago, but he was doing his best to stay conscious. I began to tell him about Edward, realizing only then that I’d forgotten about my malicious advisor. His grip on me tightened.

  “When it’s time, I’ll take care of it.” He turned his head and kissed my crown. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  That just reminded me of some of my earlier worries. Like when he’d said he had something important to talk to me about. “Zane?”

  A half grunt was my reply.

  “What did you want to talk to me about? The important thing? That you mentioned in the text?” I wanted to be absolutely clear.

  “Oh,” he murmured. “That.”

  He turned into me slightly, his massive arm hugging me tight to his sculpted chest. God, how I loved his body. I could spend a whole day mapping it and never get bored. From the muscles to the tattoos that wound up and around his arms and shoulders, over his chest, then down his brawny back. He was a work of art.

  “Yes, that.”

  His sleepy reply kept me up for an hour afterward, even though he drifted into sleep moments later. I couldn’t decide whether it was a sleepy joke, or if he was crazy, or if it was all in my head, but the words that passed his lips that evening resonated with me.

  “I wanted to ask you to marry me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Zane

  The waitress plunked the coffee down in front of me, splashing some of the black liquid onto the table. Sasha’s concern was written on her features, but she didn’t say anything as her cup was just as unceremoniously clunked down in front of her. After depositing the two cups, Sherri whirled and went to see to her other tables. Without taking our order.

  “Do you know her?” Sasha asked, dabbing up the spilled coffee with her napkin.

  I snorted. “Wish I didn’t. She’s a friend of Asa’s.”

  Sasha’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. My comment had done little to shed her unease. “One of Asa’s friends? Will she tell Asa that she saw us together?”

  I ignored the streaks of coffee left on the table when I pulled my cup to me. Sasha trailed behind with the napkin, apparently anxious about leaving a mess. I didn’t care; if Sherri wanted to be a bitch, she could be a bitch.

  “I doubt it,” I said. “They haven’t talked in years, far as I know. Sherri doesn’t run with the crowd that Asa does anymore, but she’s still pissy at me over our breakup.”

  Sasha r
olled her eyes and huffed a sigh. “That was years ago! I’m beginning to think you’re the only one that is over your break up.” She pulled over the stack of creamers and began to load a couple into her mug. She paused mid-cream on the second one and looked up at me. “You are over it, right?”

  I nodded, not able to slip the smirk off my face. I loved when she got possessive. “Yes. I’m over it, Sasha.”

  Satisfied, she returned to her coffee, stirring in a couple of sugar packets before bringing it to those perfect lips for a sip. I continued to leave mine to cool down. I liked it black, and it would be awhile before it was cool enough to drink. But I could watch Sasha drink coffee all day.

  “Are you nervous?” she asked.

  The early morning light filtered in through the diner’s crappy, plastic blinds. It lit up parts of her hair in a vibrant, almost white blonde. The parts that struck her face highlighted the creamy tone of her skin and the alert green of her eyes. She looked just as beautiful in the morning, after a good tousle in the sheets, as she did every other day. I could stare at her all day.

  “No,” I stated simply. “I know what I’m capable of. If there’s somebody there more capable than I, then there really isn’t anything I can do about it.”

  She shrugged. “That’s a good way of looking at it.” She took another sip of coffee, eyes scanning the diner. “Is she ever coming back?”

  I laughed. “Sherri? Not if she can help it. For a girl who left the life because she couldn’t take all the drama, she sure knows how to keep the drama alive.”

  Sasha wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I’m hungry.”

  “I know you are sweetheart. I’m just joking; she’ll come back.”

  I just wasn’t sure when. If it were any longer than a few minutes, I’d go find her myself. I was hungry too. Sasha had completely worn me out—she had a way of doing that. Not that I was complaining. I would happily starve to death if it meant I got to worship her body from this point to the grave.

  “I’m a little nervous,” Sasha said quietly, lowering her cup.

  Hearing her say that stirred something protective and dark inside of me. Whatever scared my girl, I wanted to have it taken care of immediately. I would take down the bogeyman himself if it meant her sleeping soundly at night.

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me,” I said. “I’m going to get the money for your mom, and then we’re going to ride off into the sunset like a couple of outlaws.”

  She snorted. “You have a way of making everything sound so appealing. You’d be a great politician.”

  My amused expression was my only answer.

  Sherri came back shortly wearing that same sour look I’d never seen her without the whole time I’d known her.

  “How are the kids, Sherri?” I asked politely.

  She scowled. “What can I get you on this fine, spring morning?”

  Sasha stifled a laugh. We placed our orders and watched Sherri swagger off like she owned the place. Maybe she did. I had no idea what she’d been up to in the past few years.

  “I kind of like her,” Sasha said. “I don’t know why she’s so sassy, but I can only assume you deserve it.”

  I chuckled. “You know, you’re probably right. She was always a bit prickly, anyway.” Taking another sip of coffee, I added, “She’s probably going to spit in my food though.”

  “Nah,” Sasha replied. “I don’t think so. She just talks a big game, but underneath I think she secretly likes you.”

  “No shit?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

  Sasha shrugged. “She keeps her feet and body angled toward you anytime she comes up. That’s not something she’d likely do if you disgusted her.”

  I reached over the table and gave Sasha’s hand a squeeze. “You are just such an interesting woman. You know that?” I patted her hand and relaxed back against the squeaky polyester seats. “I have a good feeling about today. About the future.”

  She smiled coyly and dropped my gaze, favoring her cup instead. Her cheeks began to turn pink, a sight I would commit to memory for the rest of my life.

  “About our future?” she asked.

  I nodded. “About our future.”

  We arrived at the billiards hall just before the first matches were about to begin. It was a hive of activity, and I could have sworn every hustler on the eastern seaboard was in attendance. There was barely enough room to walk around in the crowded space, and I had to pull Sasha by the hand to make sure I didn’t lose her.

  Some people clapped me on the back as we passed; others glared. It was a mixed crowd. Sasha stuck close behind me, clearly uncomfortable in the den of sharks. I didn’t blame her. If she could read someone just by looking at them, I had just opened up a horror story to her. But she had known the kind of people who would be here, and she had committed to it. I respected her for that.

  We weaved through to the registration table, where I checked in and grabbed my schedule for the day.

  “Looks like I’m at table four, first,” I read off the pamphlet, craning my neck above the crowd to see where I was supposed to go. The table was in a far corner. Good. Less crowded, less distraction. I tugged Sasha along behind me to the table and greeted the judges and my opponent, a skinny kid with spectacles, wearing a polo shirt two sizes too big.

  “Chris,” he introduced himself. “Chris White.”

  I nodded and offered my hand. His handshake was weak as shit. “Zane Pendleton.”

  He didn’t shirk away or avoid my gaze, though. His outfit, his poor posture, it was obviously a ploy. Underneath I doubted he was secretly buff and intimidating, but I also doubted I’d be able to recognize him.

  Good kid. I liked him already. Too bad I was gonna have to wipe the floor with him.

  We took our spots and Sasha took hers at the edge of the room. I felt her eyes on me with each move I made. The kid was good, but he was nowhere near my level. Unless there was a steep curve in the competition, my odds of winning were good. Very good.

  The match was close, but I was far from performing at my highest. I didn’t want to burn out quickly, nor did I want anyone watching to know just how much firepower I had at my disposal. Better to keep that to myself, for now.

  Afterward, Chris looked positively crushed. He took off his glasses, itching at the bridge of his nose like he didn’t wear them often and they were uncomfortable.

  “You did good, kid,” I said.

  He looked up at me with a half-smile. “Not as good as you.”

  Sasha came up beside me, standing close enough for me to feel her heat. I resisted the urge to pull her into my arms and claim her mouth, right in front of this kid.

  “You’ll get there,” I reassured him. “You’ve got plenty of time. Years ahead of you.”

  He nodded. “You’re right. Maybe I’d be better sitting this one out and placing a bet on you instead.”

  I guffawed with laughter. “Hey, if you think it’s worth it—have at it. But stick out the rest of your matches first, eh?”

  I gave him a good-hearted knock on the shoulder with my fist, which he didn’t even stumble from.

  Sasha tugged on my elbow. “I think I need a drink,” she said. “It’s so packed in here. And I’m thirsty.”

  Sliding my arm around her waist, I tugged her in next to my chest. “You’re right. While you get a drink, I’m just gonna go get some air. I might call Niles and see if he and the other guys are planning to stop by. Then at least you’ll have someone to talk to.”

  Her eyes practically lit up. “Cool.” She grinned. “I’ll see you in a few minutes then.”

  We parted ways—her heading for the bar at the other side of the room, me heading for the hallway to the left that looked most promising in terms of door prospects. I resisted the urge to whistle merrily on my way. Things were going so well.

  Though I had never really wanted to be a part of my dad’s club, that wasn’t to say I didn’t enjoy it once I was ingratiated with the community. There were plenty
of perks to being in The Sick, especially for the president’s son. First of all, unlimited free tattoos. Okay, maybe that shouldn’t have been my first priority, but for a guy just out of high school, it was a pretty sweet deal. That and all the booze, drugs, and women I had within arm’s reach at all times.

  I hadn’t done anything harder than a fine, aged whiskey in years, but seeing all these people around me wiping their noses and practically bouncing on their feet reminded me of those early few years. When Niles and I would ride down to one of the bars in my dad’s territory and bust in like celebrities, turning the heads of every single person in that place. All the women wanted to fuck us; all the guys wanted to be us or beat us.

  When had it all turned sour for me? My younger self would have eaten up this shit like candy. I would’ve been hopped up on something, chugging a beer, and grinding Sasha against a wall like an animal in between games. Then, because I’d been a cocky little shit, I would have sauntered around the table, taking shots, slamming the balls into the holes one by one with a precision that shocked even the most seasoned billiards player. Because I liked to win.