Destroying Beauty (Hell Hounds Motorcycle Club): Vegas Titans Series

by Loren, Celia

  "Have you ever touched yourself and thought of me?" I whisper in her ear. I see a grin slide across her face.

  "Yes," she admits, blushing.

  "I want to see it," I murmur, taking my hand away and moving around the end of the couch so that I'm looking down its length with Jo's head next to my shoulder. I bend my head down so that our cheeks our resting against each other's, and slide my hands down and onto her breasts, massaging them in my palms as I watch her fingers move against her clit. "That's it," I murmur, as she finds her rhythm and bites her lip, raising her hips up against her palm. I like to imagine her like this in her own bed at night, thinking of me when I'm not there. "You're so fucking sexy."

  "Holt, Holt," she groans, her fingers moving faster and faster. I move my hand down, wrapping it around my dick as I look down her quivering body. I can't wait any longer. I reach down, grabbing a condom out of my pants and rip it open with my teeth. She tilts her head back to look at me upside down. "If we're exclusive, and we're both clean…maybe we don't have to."

  I pause as I realize what she means, and then grin, dropping the condom onto the ground. Now I'm even more excited to be inside her.

  I stand up, sliding my hands under her shoulder and pulling the top of her body forward along the couch so that she bends over onto her hands and knees. The sight of her ass up in the air waiting for me is almost too much. I kneel on the couch behind her and slip a finger inside her ass and hear her gasp. Not tonight, but soon, I think as I circle my finger there to get her used to the sensation. I grab my dick at the base and line it up against her opening. I feel her moving her knees apart to accommodate me and I groan as I feel her warm walls stretch around me as I slide inside. I moan as I feel her directly against my cock, flesh to flesh, her wetness enveloping me.

  She takes me up to the hilt and I move my hands to her hips. She relaxes against my palms, giving her body over to me. I tighten my core to stay still as I push her down my shaft. I don't have to fight to stay in the moment like I did with other women; every cell in my body is here right now, with her. I pull her back toward me and then out to my tip again, marveling at the sensation and at the sight of her body taking all of me in. I start thrusting faster, now pushing my hips in to meet her. She groans, falling onto her elbows, and I move one hand around to circle her clit. I grab her other hip hard to keep her steady as I plunge inside her. I grit my teeth to keep myself from coming too quickly—something I've never had to worry about with anyone else—but I hear her begin to cry out, her head dropping to the couch.

  I let myself go, grabbing her hips with both hands as I slam into her again and again. She screams with pleasure as I groan, releasing myself inside her. After a few more strokes, I collapse next to her as she straightens her knees, still inside her as she lies curled next to me. I bury my nose in her blonde hair as she takes my hand in hers and kisses my knuckles.

  "You still have your shirt on," she murmurs drowsily. She doesn't seem suspicious, it's just an idle observation, but I don't want to lie to her. So I don't say anything, I just kiss the back of her bare shoulder, hoping she'll let it go. Thankfully, she's silent, though I realize by her deep breathing it's because she's fallen asleep. I pull her a little closer against me to keep her warm as I stare at the back of her head.

  I can't fall asleep yet. I have to figure out what I'm going to tell Bark.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jo

  I shift a little without opening my eyes, and feel Holt's warm breath against my neck. I smile. I feel a scratchy blanket on my hip that he must have pulled over us. The bright light in the living room makes me squint as I slowly open my eyes. I'm quickly starting to feel at home here, and with Holt.

  Something changed with him last night—I felt it. He opened up somehow. Not just that he told me more about his past, there was some internal shift, too.

  I glance around the room, not wanting to wake up Holt yet. I like feeling him curled around me, his arm draped over my waist. A coat of paint would really brighten this room up. And the space would be more open if the armchair was on the other side, by the window. And maybe a couple prints on the wall…

  Whoa, whoa. What am I doing? Already planning on moving in? We just decided we were exclusive last night. We've only known each other a couple weeks. Has our relationship really been as intense as I think it's been, or is it just that he's only the second guy I've ever been with? Holt said he doesn't really date, so maybe it's been special for him, too.

  Or maybe it's because of the shooting, making everything in my life appear more vivid and in-focus. And then that guy with the knife last night. Holt didn't seem that ruffled by the experience. Was it just because he's been in a lot of fights, like he said? I shake my head at my suspicions. It's not like I've been completely honest, either. I haven't been completely open with him about the shooting. A horrible thought occurs to me: if I'm in danger because of what I saw, could he be in danger because he's with me?

  I feel him shift behind me, and his hand moves onto my hipbone and pulls me back toward him. He smiles at me, blinking the sleep out of my eyes, then frowns.

  "What's wrong?" he asks with a yawn. I sigh. He was so open with me last night, and my lying to him might actually be putting him in danger.

  "There's something I have to tell you."

  "Uh-oh. This sounds serious. Should I have coffee first?"

  "Maybe."

  "Tell me," he says, his eyes darkening as he understands it's something big.

  I bite my lip, trying to keep the tears that immediately threaten at bay. "OK. Remember how I told you I saw a shooting?" He nods. "It was that one at the gas station by my apartment, maybe you saw it on the news. The 'Gas Station Murders.' I was just going in to get frozen pizza for dinner…"

  My voice breaks. I haven't told anyone the whole story yet and it feels like I'm reliving it.

  "It's OK," he says, sliding his arms around me and rubbing my back. "Take a deep breath."

  I try to steady my voice as I continue. "So I was just back in the frozen foods section, and this guy came in and shot the clerk behind the counter and this other man that was in there. And then I heard the guy talking on the phone to a cop, and so I was too scared to tell the cops anything."

  "To tell them about what you saw, you mean?"

  "Well, that's the thing. I didn't really see anything anyway." I shake my head. "No, I'm just making excuses. It was really because I was scared."

  "But you didn't see the shooter's face?" he asks intently.

  "No."

  "Well, then you don't really have anything to tell the cops anyway."

  "No. There was this one weird thing. He was making this noise, like a clicking sound."

  "What do you mean? Like snapping his fingers?" he asks, the light from the window catching the green flecks in his eyes as his pupils dilate.

  "No, not snapping. It's hard to describe. I think I'd know it if I heard it again, but I'm not sure what it was. But it was definitely coming from him. It got louder when he got closer."

  "Are you sure? Memory is funny. Maybe it was something mechanical, the AC unit or something, and your mind just fused it all together."

  "No. I'm positive. Though it's not like that's something the police could even use…some kind of mysterious clicking noise? It's just, they think it was a robbery, but I know it's not. He must've just taken the money to make it look like that. Or maybe the cop he was talking to took it later, I don't know." I pause, waiting for him to jump in, but he's silent. "I'm sorry—should I not have told you? It's just, I want to be honest like you, and what if that guy knows now that there was a witness? They said there wasn't a surveillance tape. What if he took it? I could be putting you in danger just by being with you."

  I watch him swallow and blink a few times. "No, no, you can't think like that," he rasps, his voice catching in his throat. "If anything…" he trails off, looking down, then his eyes snap back up to mine. "I won't let anything happen to you. I'm going to
protect you."

  "You don't have to get involved in this."

  "Yes, I do. Besides, you saved my life last night. I owe you."

  "Do you think I should go to the cops?"

  He pauses again. "No. I think you made the right decision. It's too risky. If there's one bad cop, there could be more."

  "And the tape? I was wearing the shirt from my restaurant when I was in the gas station. What if he saw it?"

  "If nothing's happened by now, you're probably fine. Or maybe there wasn't a tape in there at all, right? Who knows about the security in that place?"

  "Yeah, yeah," I murmur, trying to let his words reassure me. I look over his face worriedly. He's staring into space now at some imaginary point in between us. "Are…are you OK?"

  He pulls his face back quickly, his blank stare disappearing. "Yes, yeah, sorry. I mean, I'm not the one who saw it." He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into the nook under his chin. "I'm glad you told me. I'm so sorry you have to go through this."

  I let tears slide freely down my cheeks as he holds me, feeling like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders by telling him, and hearing that he thinks I made a smart decision. It feels good having him in my corner.

  "You want me to take you home before work?" he finally asks. "Or you could chill here."

  "Mmm, no. Being inside by myself is when I feel the most anxious, actually."

  "Wish you could come to the site with me today. We're short a guy."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah, he's following some girl across the country."

  "No, I meant, could you really use me? I mean, I know you were kind of joking, but…I don't know…it looks like a beautiful day out. It would feel good to use my hands. If I wouldn't just be in the way. I'm strong, too!"

  "Oh, you're strong, huh?" he asks, grinning. He slides his giant hand around my bicep. "Flex."

  I ball my fist up and do as he says. A small ball of muscle forms in my upper arm and I raise my eyebrows proudly. And then he tenses his fingers and squashes it right back down.

  "Well, the plants aren't going to do that," I point out. He bursts out laughing. "C'mon, I'll be helpful!"

  "Well, maybe it would be a good idea to keep an eye on you," he says, his grin disappearing. "Alright. But I'm not going to take it easy on you. You take the same breaks as the rest of my crew."

  "Oh, of course, don't worry. I'm a hard worker."

  A trickle of sweat beads down the side of my face and I wipe it away with a careless swipe of my gloved hands. We stopped at my apartment for clothes I wouldn't mind getting dirty, and now I'm shoveling a hole in the dirt for a row of trees to go in outside a McMansion in a ritzier town just down the highway. It's not exactly the great outdoors, but it's a whole lot better than standing behind the bar at Billy's.

  I glance over at the hole Dale is digging next to me. OK, it's a lot deeper than mine, but I'm certainly not slowing them down any. I get a better grip on my shovel and drive it down into the dry dirt as hard as I can. I can't imagine how much water the landscaping at this place takes, though Holt said on the ride over that he always urges his clients to use native plants that won't suck up as much water.

  "Helloooo!"

  I glance up to see the source of the voice as I pile the dirt next to me. My eyes widen as I see a woman in a silky robe flitting down the flagstone steps to our work area at the back of her yard. Dale chuckles next to me.

  "We get a lot of the bored housewife business, thanks to him," he says, nodding in Holt's direction. Holt drops the small tree he's carrying on his shoulder like it weighs nothing to greet the woman.

  "It's the middle of the day. Why doesn't she have clothes on?" I grunt next to him.

  "Oh, I've seen worse. Once this woman took a shower in the bathroom facing the yard and dried off with the shades wide open, as though she forgot we were there. Trust me, she didn't forget."

  "But, it's just business, right?" I ask, keeping my eyes on the widening hole beneath me.

  Dale laughs. "Don't worry, JoJo, Holt doesn't stick his pen in the company ink."

  I glance back up at Holt and the homeowner to see her narrow her eyes at me. "Ma'am," I say very seriously, with a respectful nod, before returning to my work. I hear Dale try to turn his snort into a laugh next to me.

  A minute later, I see the woman's pink robe disappearing back up the walkway out of the corner of my eye. A moment later. Holt's boots appear next to me.

  "You're very professional," he says with a grin.

  "Hey, I see what you've got going on here. I'm not going to get in the way. It's like female bartenders who wear a push-up bra to get bigger tips. I get it."

  Dale now openly laughs next to me.

  "So you're not jealous?" Holt asks, raising one eyebrow suspiciously.

  "They can look, but they can't touch, right? So I'm not jealous."

  "Mmhm. You're doing pretty well here," he says, eyeing my progress.

  "I thought you were crazy, bringing this little girl to work, but she's not bad, I have to say," Dale comments.

  "See? 'Not bad!'"

  "Are you campaigning to get a job with me right now?" Holt asks, a touch of incredulousness in his voice.

  "Maybe," I say, shrugging my shoulders as I press the shovel deeper into the dirt with my foot.

  "Hey, boss!" another of Holt's crew calls from across the yard. He turns over his shoulder to look at him.

  "See you at lunch!" I call after him as he starts to walk away. I take a deep breath of the fresh air and pause my shovel to listen to the quiet, so different from the hectic sounds of my workplace.

  I could get used to this.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Holt

  "…And there's been no sign of Jose Medina since then," I finish, laying it all out for Bark. Well, almost all.

  He shifts a little, scratching his beard as he leans back in his chair at the head of the Cave's table. "You certainly seem passionate."

  "She saved my life!" His eyes flick over to mine. Fuck. I heard it. I'm putting too much behind my words. It's out of character.

  "So tell me about her," he says, crossing his feet on the table.

  "What?"

  "You've spent a lot of time with her. I just want to get an idea of what we're dealing with here. She from around here?"

  "No, Florida, originally. She moved out here to live with her grandmother when her mom went to prison."

  "For?"

  "Fraud. She's been in and out since then."

  "So Jo's not inexperienced in dealing with the law."

  "No. She's not…naïve. Innocent, maybe. She got divorced over a year ago, from her high school sweetheart. She's bartending at Billy's to pay the bills, but she's smart."

  "I heard that she's worked with your landscaping crew a couple times."

  "You heard that? From who? You've been watching me?" I feel heat rising to my face.

  "You don't see her clearly. You think she's really interested in you?"

  "What's that got to do with it?"

  "I'm saying that the whole thing you've built with her is fake, and you need to remember that. You think she'd still be interested if she knew who you really are? That you're in a motorcycle gang? That you've killed?"

  "I—"

  "Just remember that before you go putting her before your club."

  I take a deep breath. "I'm not putting her before the club. I'm just saying, she saved my life. You know as well as I do that means I owe her something. And like I said, she didn't see anything. She can't ID Fish. She's not going to the cops. I've found out everything you asked me to, everything we needed to know. So the situation's over." I make direct eye contact, daring him to call me out.

  "The situation…so you'll stop seeing her then?"

  "I wanted to talk to you about that…"

  "Jesus fucking Christ," Bark swears, bringing his legs off the table and setting his chair square on the floor with a bang. "Holt, you are the last person I thought I'd e
ver have to worry about this with. Your…emotional distance is your gift. You're able to see things rationally. That's why you and Fish are such a good counterbalance."

  I grunt. I don't like being put in the same sentence as that psycho. Bark shakes his head at me.

  "You don't understand the value that someone like him brings to the club. It's no secret that you're being groomed for a real leadership position here, Holt. Maybe even for my job, one day. To do that, you need to understand what he offers. He's feared in other clubs, he's loyal, willing to jump in to do shit that not every brother is willing to do."

  "He's a liability," I hiss.

  "He's a weapon. And like all weapons, he needs to be watched, handled carefully. But he is valuable. And the bullshit between you two needs to stop, especially if you think you're going to be sitting in this seat one day." He leans forward, his eyes boring into mine. "If she does know something, and you're protecting her, it's not just Fish that will pay the consequences. If the cops start investigating us, turning over whatever they find, they could bring down the whole club."

  The door to the Cave behind me creaks, and I snap my head back at it, glancing up the stairwell. There's no one there.

  "She's not going to the cops. I swear it," I say. And it's true. She was leaning toward not going anyway, and all I had to do was confirm her suspicion of them was valid. Bark leans back in his chair with a nod, looking somewhat satisfied.

  "And with Fish...I'll handle it. You won't hear anything from me about him," I continue.

  "The girl…tread carefully. She doesn't know our way of life."

  Was that Bark's implicit approval to move forward with Jo?

  "Thanks."

  We both stand up from the table and Bark claps me on the back as I turn to go. I take the stairs two at a time as we return to the comparatively bright lounge. I frown, fingering my cell phone in my pocket.