by Cove, Vivian
There’s a hitch in his breath. “You really are perfect, Annie.”
Those words undo me. I don’t care anymore about anything except that deliriously aching pleasure only he can give me. I push my pelvis up but there’s nothing to make contact with. But, oh God, I want to make contact with something. I want to be filled so fucking bad it hurt.
And then he does the last thing I expect. He brings his head down and kisses me.
There.
Where only my fingers have gone before. His lips so much softer than a finger, such a strong contrast to his rough stubble. I love that about him—his wildness and restraint—how he stirs within me a pleasure so great it almost hurts.
I scream, grabbing his head, pushing him against me. His tongue rolls from my clit to my pussy, slipping inside me, claiming me. I fist his hair, still screaming as his mouth, tongue and fingers work dark magic. Something inside me is building. I can’t contain it much longer.
I cry out as he pulls away from me. His fingers slip inside me as he kisses my clit. “Cum for me, Annie,” he whispers.
I can’t hold back anymore. I can’t deny him. Anything. He pushes my legs back, pulling me tighter as his fingers continue to relentlessly slip inside me.
Cum for me.
I grip the mattress as he holds my hips in place, strumming against me as I fall apart in his mouth. Screaming, I cum for him. I give him everything. In that moment, only he and I exist, two lost souls who somehow found their darkness and their light in one another.
And then his hands bring me back to earth.
My hair sticks to my neck and face. I shiver from the sweat cooling on my skin.
“Annie.” I hear reverence in his voice, and a deep, aching desire that has yet to be fulfilled. I tremble, moaning again as he kisses my inner thigh.
Bang!
The door bursts open.
He stands and I shoot up, crossing my arms over my bare chest. And then I scream again, because the worst possible thing that could have happened just happened.
Chapter 9
My fingernails dig into my arms as I try to hide my exposed chest. The man towering over us in the doorway’s chest heaves. He’s still shirtless, just like he was the last time I saw him. He flexes his hands into fists. His eyes blaze.
It’s Damien. Before, did I say that he looked like he’d brought hell with him when he escaped? Well, that was nothing compared to this. Because, right now, I’m pretty sure I am in hell.
I push my knees together as I scan the room.
Ryder’s here too, though he’s standing in Damien’s shadow. Ryder’s generally a pretty understanding guy. He doesn’t get on my case about my silly dances or eating all the snacks. Sometimes he even brings me snacks he knows I like. He always has a special smile for me.
He’s sure as fuck not smiling now. Both of them look like they’re out for blood.
I’m about to hop off the cot and reach for Damien’s jacket—the one the unknown biker had ripped off me—but the look on Damien’s face stops me. He glances at the exact spot on the floor I wanted to move to.
He stares at his rumpled leather jacket like I’d just doused his cut in gasoline and thrown a match on top of it. His eyes are so intense it’s like I can see the reflection of the flames dancing in them.
I know it was a little disrespectful to discard his cut like that while I was being…ahem, “pleasured”…but this is just overkill. I mean, it looks like he wants to kill somebody.
“Um, hi Damien,” I say in the sweetest voice I can muster.
Damien takes out his gun.
Holy shit! Is he actually gonna kill somebody?
“This isn’t what you think,” I babble as Damien raises the gun towards the guy who, a few seconds ago, had his face between my legs.
He aims the gun, ignoring me.
“What the fuck!” I scream. Damien can’t shoot him! This is insane! “Ryder…!”
I look over and realize that Ryder’s gun is also pointed at the poor stranger.
What the….? Ryder was supposed to be the calm and collected one. What’s up with his dark, vengeful glare? What the hell is going on here?!?
“Give me one reason not to shoot you, asshole,” Damien whispers.
The stranger sighs, turning to face them.
Damien and Ryder’s eyes go wide.
“You gonna keep pointing that shit at me?” the guy asks calmly.
Ryder looks over at Damien. To my surprise, they both lower their guns.
Before I can say anything, a dark shape moves in front of me.
I recognize that strong, powerful back. The stranger just moved between me and them, trying to protect me. I peek to the stranger’s side and see that Damien’s piece is still raised.
“Let me guess, you’re Damien?” the man in front of me says.
Damien’s eyes narrow. “Back the fuck away from her.”
“Not gonna happen,” the stranger tells him.
“You asshole—”
Ryder grabs Damien’s shoulder, just barely stopping him from racing forward.
Damien barely notices. He’s still trying to charge forward. “You fuckin’ lay your hands on her and I’ll—I’ll—”
“I’ve already put my hands on her, or did you not see?” the stranger replies.
Now my eyes are bulging. Does this guy have a death wish? Damien’s so pissed he just starts growling like a motherfuckin’ mama bear.
The stranger rolls his head from left to right, cracking his neck. “I see this is going to be more difficult than I originally thought.”
“What the fuck? Your thoughts…Everything…The fuck!” Damien bellows, face red.
Oh no. Now he’s speaking in tongues. This was going downhill fast. “Look, everyone just stop. This isn’t a big deal, alright? All I did was make out with a guy and…well…I guess finger banging is a little more than making out, but—”
Damien’s head whips to me. I shut up. I always joked about him being demon spawn, but oh my god, he is actually a demon. I’ve never been more scared in my entire life. Shit. Why had I said finger banging? Why? WHY??? If Candy were here, she’d bitch-slap me for that!
“You,” Damien hisses, glaring at the stranger as he holsters his gun. “Let’s go. Right here. Right now.”
The stranger rolls his shoulders. “You should walk away while I’m still offering the chance.”
Wait, were they gonna fight? For real?
“She’s not yours,” the stranger continues, stepping forward. “And even if she were, I wouldn’t respect your claim on her. She doesn’t want you, and more than that, you don’t know how to treat a woman.”
“You don’t know what you’re fuckin’ talkin’ ‘bout,” Damien whispers.
Ryder jumps between the two of them. “Both of you, keep your shit together.”
“I don’t think you know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” the stranger responds. “She is not yours.”
Damien frowns. “You don’t know who she is, do you?”
“Yes I do,” the stranger says. “She’s Annie, and for as long as she wants it, she’s mine.”
Mine.
The word makes me shiver. It feels more intimate than a kiss… more purposeful than a command. I look up, shocked. He thinks I’m his? When, exactly, did this happen?
Damien smiles cruelly. “She’s not yours. She’ll never be yours.”
The stranger’s posture changes like he’s ready to attack.
“Because she’s not ‘just Annie’,” Damien continues, “She’s Annie Rawlings, our MC’s Princess.”
The stranger stops. Turns. Looks at me. Stares.
My chest begins to ache.
I don’t know why. It shouldn’t make sense. All he’s doing is looking at me with those big, piercing blue eyes. So why do I feel like he’s lonely, and why do I feel his loneliness as if it were my own?
“Is this true?” he whispers.
“Um…yes.”
He shuts
his eyes. “Fuck.”
“Yeah. Fuck,” Ryder adds.
God damn insensitive Ryder. I glare at him but he glares right back. “We should get going, Princess.”
I look at the stranger. His eyes blaze with anger as they watch me inch off the cot and kneel to the ground to pick up Damien’s cut and what’s left of his shirt.
“Princess, get your ass over here now,” Damien demands.
I shudder, clutching his coat to my chest and look back at the stranger.
He stares back, saying nothing, but I notice his hands are still curled into lethal fists.
Sorry, I mouth to the stranger.
His jaw tightens.
“Now,” Damien repeats, voice hard.
I turn away from the beautiful, dark biker and rush toward the door without looking back. Damien grabs my wrist, pulling me out of the cabin. Cold night air assaults me as we rush to the bikes out front. I stumble down the steps, and stumble even more when we hit the dirt lot. My pink stripper stilettos are so not the best shoes to wear when trekking through the wilderness.
He lets go of me when we reach the bikes. “Put my cut on.”
I glare at him as I slide the smooth leather over my shoulders. I swear to God, if he tries to “help” me I am going to knee him in the groin again. “What the hell was that back there?” I hiss.
Damien works his jaw, then throws the helmet at my chest. “We’re not having this conversation right now.”
“Like hell we aren’t!” It’s hard for me to keep my voice down, I’m so mad! “It wasn’t his fault, alright? I didn’t tell him who I was. You had no right pulling your gun out on him!”
His eyes shimmer with violent intent. “Oh, I had no right? Where did that asshole get the right to stick his face between your legs?”
“I gave him the right. It’s my body. Did you somehow forget that?”
“Oh, so it was your idea to climb on your back and spread your legs? Did you grab his head and stick his face in your cunt?”
Alright, maybe it hadn’t exactly been my idea originally, but once he got to work hell yeah I grabbed his head and shoved it between my legs. But I just had a feeling that bringing that up right now would make things worse.
Shit!
Damien takes a deep breath. “We are not doing this here. Put on my helmet and get on the back of my bike. I’m taking you to the compound.”
Was this guy insane? Did he really think I was just gonna hop onto his batshit crazy train? “Like hell you are! I’m riding with Ryder!”
He slides onto the motorcycle. “Back of my bike. Now.”
“No!”
Damien’s eyes go dark. His muscles flex as he grips the handlebars harder. The tattoos stretched over his skin look like twisted shadows and dangerous secrets. “Princess, don’t make me come after you again.”
I take a trembling step towards him.
“This shit between you and me, it ends tonight,” he vows.
What shit between us? Fuck! I spin and scream, “Ryder!”
Ryder’s coming down the steps. It takes mere seconds for him to reach us. “It’s alright, Princess.”
“It is not alright! Damien wants to take me home!”
Damien turns on the bike. He grits his jaw as it roars to life.
Ryder looks at me sympathetically. “You shouldn’t have been out here.”
No shit!
“Now get on Damien’s bike.”
“No, he’s gonna kill me!”
“Damien would never hurt you.”
What the fuck? Were he and I talking about the same person? Demon spawn looked like he was about to run us over!
Instead of helping me, Ryder pushes me towards this nightmare. “Be nice to him, Princess. This was not easy for him.”
Me be nice to him? This wasn’t easy for him? Had everyone gone insane?!?
Ryder doesn’t give me a chance to respond. He lifts me and sticks me on the back of my “savior’s” bike. The moment I wrap my arms around Damien’s strong chest, we’re off.
***
We make it down the mountain and across town in record time. Damien’s driving too fast. I shudder against his back as the scenery of my homeland rips past me, suddenly foreign in the darkness and at such a speed.
This isn’t a Damien I know. Every part of him seems different, like he’s born from the wild, forest darkness that surrounds us. He’s nothing like the young boy who used to tease me, or the charming sex idol who drove me crazy. He’s possessive. His raw, masculine power seems uncontainable.
I don’t think it’s a Damien I want to know.
We turn up a familiar dirt road on the other side of town, surrounded by barb wire and chain link fence. It’s the back way to the compound. In a few moments we’ll be behind the shop where the rooms the guy sin the MC live in are located.
For once, the place is completely empty. Everyone is either at the party or the meeting. Again, the stupidity of what I’d just attempted hits me. What if the meeting had been cut short and my dad walked in and saw me shaking it for that room full of 200+ rowdy men?!? I don’t even want to think about what would happen! But I’m pretty sure the peace treaty they’d been negotiating would be shot to hell about 200+ times.
Damien opens the door and starts pulling me down the dark hallway.
I stumble over a few beer cans. “You’re going too fast.”
He stops. Without letting go of my arm, he turns. Slowly. “What?”
His eyes glimmer in the darkness. Oh shit! “It’s my stripper heels.”
His eyes narrow into lethal slits.
Wait, had I just said stripper heels out loud? Fuck!
“I mean, these are so high, it’s hard to, you know, walk and stuff, because they’re so high, because they’re st—” Oh shit! Almost said it again! “…Really high shoes,” I finish lamely.
He lets go of my hand and steps forward. I rub my wrist as his chest meets my nose. “Looked to me like you were doin’ a pretty good job of gettin’ around back there.”
Okay, he’s pissed. So pissed he’s barely even making sense. I definitely shouldn’t have said stripper heels! “I wasn’t doing as good a job of moving around as I would have if I weren’t wearing these. I mean, not that I would want to do a good job, or…HEY WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!?”
His arms grip my flailing body as he hoists me into the air, carrying me like a princess. He takes off down the hall.
I slap his chest. “Put me down!”
“I’m not indulging one of your tantrums right now, Princess.”
Indulge? When did the asshole ever indulge me? He should totally indulge me more! Not that I cared what he did or didn’t do, because it meant nothing to me. “Put me down right now!”
“Not happenin’.”
“Then at least slow down.”
“No. That’s why I’m carryin’ you, Princess. You said you couldn’t keep up.”
Now my head’s bobbin’ up and down like that weird-ass Chevy Chase golfing bobble head my dad has in his car. When he gets to his door he kicks it open and throws me down on his bed.
Alright. I only have a few options in a situation like this. I can’t run away—he’s blocking the door. I need to just address what I did wrong and get it over with. “Damien, I’m sorry about your motorcycle.”
He says nothing.
Why isn’t he saying anything? Is he too mad to speak? Or…oh God…no! What if he doesn’t know about it yet?
I swallow and shut my eyes. I need to be brave. “I wrecked it. I mean…it’s gone.”
He still says nothing.
I crack my eyes open. He’s still standing there, fuming.
Shit.
“I’ll buy you a new one, alright? I’ll help you build a new one! I’ll buy it and help you build it! Okay? I’ll build it myself!”
Damien just stares at me.
Oh God. This is the calm before the super storm. I just know it! “I’m sorry! Alright? I am so, so, so sorry!”
/>
He grits his jaw. “You think this is about some fuckin’ motorcycle?”
Did he just refer to his pride and joy as a man as ‘just some fuckin’ motorcycle’? “What the hell else would it be about?”
“You,” he whispers.
I scream. I have no choice. He’s looking at me so scary and I just know that bad things are coming.
He laughs. “There’s no one here but us, babe.”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
His eyes take on a devilish light. “It has to do with everything ‘cause right now, no one can hear you scream.”
His creeptastic observation makes me scream again.
He cracks his knuckles. “Damnit Princess, what am I gonna do with you?”
I glance at his scary hands. “What the fuck?”
He stalks back and forth in front of me, eyes blazing, nostrils flaring, muscles tightening. “Yeah, that’s about right,” he mutters. “What the fuck. What the fuck were you doin’ out there tonight, huh? Dancin’ in front of everyone with nothin’ on—”
“I was wearing something!”
“Oh, those paisleys over your tits and…and…and…” he points at my vajazzle, eyes bulging, “…whatever the fuck that is.”
I close up my legs. “It’s a vajazzle.”
He shuts his eyes and looks at the ceiling. Then, he puts his hands on top of his head and takes a few deep breaths. Whatever those deep breaths were supposed to do, they didn’t do it. He lowers his hands, growls, and then goes over to the wall and knocks his forehead against it a few times. “Oh my God! What the fuck are you doing? Why THE FUCK are you doing this to me?”
Adrenaline spikes through me. Now was my chance to really show him. “Well, all I was trying to do was get your attention.”
He lowers his hands. Steps away from the wall. Looks at me. Really looks at me. 10 seconds pass. Then his lips open like he’s gonna say something, but nothing comes out. 20 seconds pass.
Finally, he whispers, “You tryin’ to kill me?”
