by Marata Eros
His forehead dips against mine as he rubs his cheek against the one he slapped.
I'm as confused as I've ever been in my life. This is a hard man. An MC president. They don't get soft when it comes to the club.
Calling out the pink elephant standing between us, I say, “You think I'm a pedophile enabler.”
Viper's head rises, eyes never leaving mine. “It would seem that way.”
I hold his stare, not backing down, seeing where this will lead.
Finally, he breaks the silence. “But I don't believe you are.” He kisses my lips and breathes against them again with his next words, “I know you're something, I just don't know what yet.”
After a few beats of silence, I say, “So we have sex, and then you let me go. I get Calem to safety, and it's done.”
I dare to hope.
Viper stares at me so long, I'm sure he won't answer. Won't agree. Then he does, “Yes.”
I just fed the devil a part of my soul, and he gobbled it—and me—right up.
Then I give him my answer.
*
Viper
I barely touch the rib, and she whimpers.
It's that noise and so many other awful, final things that happen between me and Candice Arlington that tell me the torture plan is off.
As if it ever had a chance. I should've known it wouldn’t work the minute I laid eyes on her.
First of all, I have actual bona fide chemistry with a woman for the first time in a decade. Haven't felt this firestorm of desire since Colleen was alive. Sure, I've fucked about every sweet butt who comes through Road Kill doors, but fucking isn't the same as dying to be inside a woman—or to be with her. The raw want to hold a female so close that two people are one body.
Too bad that when I finally get hit between the eyes, it's by an accomplice to pedophiles.
When was the precise moment I knew Candice was someone other than who we thought?
When I was holding that knife.
I saw the expression in her cat-gold eyes. She thought I was going to do her. And what did she say in response to that realization?
Protect Calem.
Candice wasn't worried about her imminent death and her last chance to stave it off.
Nope. Her last thought was about the kid's welfare. And not just any thought. The last person Candice believed she would ever see was the one she told to protect the kid.
I don't know what part Candice Arlington plays in this intricate web of abusing the defenseless, but my gut says it's probably on the good side.
No matter how much she tries to pretend she's what we presumed her to be, there's goodness in there.
I see it.
Even when she was trying to beat the shit out of me, I saw her. Felt her. Who Candice Arlington really is.
Throwing her into that wall killed something in me that I can't get back. I should have bowed out then and let Storm take over.
I was gone before I started. Seeing her face in those photos did it. I just knew that anyone who looked like that couldn't be evil enough to do those things to kids.
I'm going to try to erase the damage we did to Candice with my body, then I can figure out who the fuck she is.
But no one other than me is going to lay a finger on her, and it isn't going to be to cause pain.
I lied to the brothers. Said I could hurt to get answers. That I could kill her. But at the end of the day, I couldn't do violence against Candice Arlington.
All I want is to sink into her. Injured. Scared. I want to wrap her in my protection instead of hurt her until she begs for mercy.
I'm looking for a different kind of begging from her.
I just forfeited the Road Kill MC—for a woman.
The very thing I vowed I would never do.
Chapter 10
Candice
Viper's lips quirk. “Got to release me.”
My legs fall to the soft bed, and I let a relieved sigh go.
“I won't rape you. This is a negotiation. You have sex with me, and I let you go.”
“The other option is Storm will be here tomorrow to mess me up?”
He nods, but I see a shadow of something pass across his eyes like a cloud of uncertainty and I wonder at the brief emotion I glimpsed.
I can't deny that Viper would be the sort of man I'd go for if I hadn't been beat up, kidnapped, and facing likely torture with a side of worry for Puck and Calem.
However, my libido will take some coaxing. My headspace is skewed, too worried about Calem and Puck. I can't get out of here because I'm too injured. And I have secrets to keep. It'd be so easy to admit I'm FBI.
On the other hand, maybe that would mean death for sure.
As I watch him studying me, I can't see my death written anywhere in those pale eyes.
I see only desire.
Unless I'm really off base, I have to trust my instincts. And those are pretty finely honed.
Viper stands and walks away, saying over his shoulder, “I'll give you something good.” His voice holds a touch of humor, and I frown, trying to shift my weight again. The rib sings, and I still. God it hurts.
He disappears into the bathroom, and my eyes follow him. Rummaging around, he closes and opens a few different drawers.
Viper comes back with two pills and a glass of water.
Cupping the back of my head, he helps me take a sip, and I swallow it.
Like I have a choice.
“That'll take the edge off the pain.”
I lift my hands, clanking the cuffs, indicating my need for freedom. Suddenly nervous with the idea of what's going to happen, I lightly gnaw at my bottom lip, fingertips tingling.
Viper gives a slight shake of his head. “I'm going to town on your pussy. Don't need you trying to gouge my eyeballs out.”
His eyebrows rise. The expression is part amusement, part explanation.
Oh my God. What if he hurts me? “What?” I ask, my mouth dropping open. “That is not part of the bargain.”
This is not Him, Candice, I calm myself.
His eyelids drop to half-mast. “Listen, baby, I'm old-school. I'm a worshiper. Think the vagina is where it's at. And let me tell you, I'm no spring chicken. If I can't make you howl in three minutes flat, I've lost my touch.” His smile is sudden, sure and vulnerable at the same time.
I close my eyes against it. “You threw me into a wall.”
When I open my eyes again, I see that guilt lines his face. The palest blue of his gaze darkens to the color of a rioting sea. “I've never hurt a woman who I wasn't ordered to.”
Military. There's one question answered, though it's no surprise. “You're the president of the Road Kill MC. You are in charge.”
He nods. “And I got a gut feeling you ain't the one at the bottom of this. I don't know who is, but I don't want anything out of you but this—and that kid's safety.” His hand cups the mound of my sex over my panties, and I go liquid. Which tells me how seriously fucked up I am.
Why am I doing this?
Oh yeah, for Calem. And to make sure Puck can capture the fucker responsible for hurting children.
But a little part of me knows that I want this virile, handsome, and fucked-up man to do everything he has planned. Just like he knows it about me, I’m sure he's not everything he seems to be, either.
Two halves of a fucked-up whole.
My idea of sex isn't really normal or vanilla anyway. And Viper keeps my wrists cuffed for more than he admits too. Somehow, on a primal level, he gets me. That should scare the shit out of me. Instead, I convince myself this furthers the end goal.
The lie sits all right with me. But sometimes lies that are fine in the moment come back to haunt a person later, like feral ghosts.
The can lights in the ceiling are dimmed to barely there illumination, and his eyes hunt mine in the darkened room.
“Tell me yes.”
His hand is hot on the top of my most intimate spot. So close to my clit, a hard thought would put
it there.
My heart feels like it's swelling inside my chest as I give a nod as the only sign of permission.
He rolls my yoga pants down from mid-thigh to my knees, folding my panties along with the movement, and I turn my head away until I feel them being tugged off and over my ankles.
My handcuffs clank softly against the metal of the headboard.
I suddenly realize I'm all warm and boneless. The drugs.
The rib has settled down, though, to a dull roar of mild throbbing instead of the shrieking agony it was.
I’m sure he’ll attack the obvious, but Viper doesn't go for my pussy the way he'd implied he would. Instead, he lies down beside me, cupping my bare waist with his hand, and softly kisses my neck. Burying his face at the crook, he takes a deep inhale, breathing in the scent of my flesh.
I let out a surprised groan.
It's been years since I've been with a man. My job has been my boyfriend, and as Vince sears a path down the column of my throat then halts between my breasts, I realize it was a poor substitute. The road to my vulnerability has been paved by ignoring my basic female needs—my human ones. And that omission makes me all the weaker to what he's doing and what I feel, though I don't want to.
“Losing the bra,” he says from between my breasts, and the day-old beard rasps against the tender skin.
“Okay,” I breathe and almost forget my broken rib as I arch slightly so he can remove it.
The white lace cups loosen, and my breasts fall out. Vince swarms me, hands cupping breasts that are large despite how thin I am. He molds one in his right hand and squeezing, forces the tip up and high, laving it with his mouth and softly nipping the sensitive peak.
I start to pant, because breathing hard makes the sharp pain in my rib surface, and he smiles around my breast. “That's why I couldn't hurt you, knew it the minute I saw your face. Love your noises, knew you'd be fucking hot to be with, be inside of. Gotta have—” He sucks the top third of my breast into his mouth—hard—and I gasp, yanking my hands against the metal headboard, “All of you. Taste every bit.”
His hands skim over my ribcage, expertly gentle over the tender area, and dive underneath my back. One large hand glides down to my rear and lifts my hips. The other lies flat under my back.
Vince moves over me, mouth hovering over mine, our noses almost touching. “Gonna bite my face off?” he asks softly.
Hadn't thought to.
I should have done a Hannibal on him, but I'm too dazed to think straight, and I shake my head, lips parting.
His eyes flick down to look at my mouth. “Fucked a lot of guys, Candice?”
He says my name for the first time, and I love the way it sounds on his tongue. But the question is so absurd, so out of the blue that I laugh. It hurts my rib, and I suck in an inhale. “No,” I whisper.
His mouth lands on mine at the same time his hand leaves my butt and sweeps to the front of my bare pussy, and a finger enters me.
I gasp, hips bucking at the unexpected and delicious penetration.
Vince nibbles at my bottom lip as if he wants to eat every bit of me. Like a last meal. “Wet. Your cunt is so wet.”
I kiss him back, and that taste of mint and vague scent of engine is more acute.
His finger pumps slowly inside of me, and it's amazing. I move my hips down against his hand and feel his smile against my mouth. “Perfect.”
Then his mouth is off mine, and soft lips glide down from between my breasts to the divot where my navel is… then lower.
I gaze down at Viper, and somewhere along the way, he’s lost his shirt, leaving only his bare chest. Strong broad planes of muscles and the outline of a six-pack are there, but he's not a super-cut man. He's all muscle.
The rhythm of his finger moving in and out of me never lets up.
My fingers uncurl around the metal bars of the headboard, hands dropping. The handcuffs give a sharp sound to the movement.
Vince's pale gaze is intense, never leaving me. It's as though we're the only people in the entire world.
Whatever he sees in my face takes us to the next level.
Withdrawing his finger, he cups my hips with both hands and draws them up as he bends down, curling his much larger body around mine.
I know what he'll do before his lips wrap my clit.
When they do, I think I'm prepared, anticipating anything. Carefully, he jerks just the lower half of my body into his face.
A loud moan sounds, and I realize it's me. I'm the one who's moaning. And I'm helpless. His hand squeezes my ass cheek, and his mouth is everywhere at once. Clit, labia, entrance. Repeat.
His tongue works my clit relentlessly, lashing it just so, and I'm sure I'll blow apart. Then the hand holding my ass sweeps to my back entrance and plugs me with a thumb.
I explode with a shriek, coming off the bed and gasping as my rib screams in agony, neatly piercing the drug haze and somehow inexplicably adding to the sharp pleasure of my orgasm.
Ribbons of pulsing sing through my core, milking his tongue and the thumb he pushed into me at the last second.
A low thrumming vibrates against my clit as he uses his voice against my most sensitive area, and I writhe underneath the pressure, coming again, my hips trying to dance on the mattress even as my rib feels like it's breaking again.
Instead of stopping the pleasure, my brain gets the pain and pleasure all confused, and the third orgasm leaves me breathless, the sensations all hopelessly crossed. Fused.
“That was so fucking hot.” Vince licks my juices from his lips as he watches my scattered brain cells float back down to earth like lazy dust motes.
I only nod because I'm incapable of speech.
He removes his thumb from my ass, wipes his face with a sheet, then rises to his knees.
“Condom,” I manage, but can't move a muscle. Viper stole my strength in ways he doesn't even understand.
“Bareback,” he challenges. “Want to fill that hot pussy of yours to the brim with my cum.”
Oh God. His hot words blaze through my skull like a brushfire.
He doesn't wait for my answer. Cupping my ass again, he tilts my hips up and lines up a sizable erection.
“Am I hurting you?” he asks suddenly.
I laugh—because of the ludicrous situation of my captor eating me out then fucking me. Because I want everything he's done and everything he's going to do. Because I know how sick that desire is.
Instead of trying to explain all that, I simply say, “No.”
Vince takes me at my word and plunges his cock inside me.
What happens when a woman's had only a couple of lovers and the last one was over three years ago?
She's tight.
I groan because he feels good, but my body won't accept him, even though he tore three orgasms from me.
“Fuck, you're tight,” he says, throwing himself forward. He catches his weight on his elbows, framing my face with his hands. “And gorgeous.” He kisses my nose, stilling while halfway in.
I close my eyes, and he kisses my lids. It makes me want to cry.
And it makes a little of the scarring heal. The most unlikely event of my life makes ones I couldn't control a little less sharp.
Rocking into me deeper, he gets the last bit of himself in the last of me as I relax a little.
His tongue sweeps tears I didn't realize I’d shed off my face. “Don't cry, Candice.”
“It feels so good, and I feel bad because it does.”
“Stop talking.”
He moves out of me then moves inside again slowly.
Again.
And again.
My pussy finally becomes relaxed enough to move with his thrusts, and the motion of our bodies is perfect, synchronized and natural.
“Can't last,” he says, pumping faster as I lift my hips to meet his.
“Then don't,” I breathe out as I meet him stroke for stroke, feeling that crushing pressure build inside me toward release.
; My rib shrieks again as he rams his cock deep a final time and hits that spot deep inside me.
I arch, crying out at the pain the motion gives me, then shatter into a million jagged pieces of intense, raw pleasure.
The cords of his neck stand out as he buries his length, and I feel the throbbing of his hot cum filling me. I widen my legs to accept everything he pumps inside, and the rabid pulsing of my pussy sucks what he gives me deeper.
We are locked together in the endless loop of pleasure. His strong arms hold me tight against his body, and I feel wonderful.
Guilty. I'm horrified I fucked my captor and loved every second. Elated that I might have actually saved Calem. Ashamed at my methods.
Thrilled to be alive.
For now.
Chapter 11
Viper
Candice is exhausted. She falls asleep in the shadow of my body, arms still attached to the headboard.
The bed was my grandma's. Original to the house. It's not big because they didn't make them that way in those days. Marriage bed, she'd called it. Candice is the first woman I've had in it.
She’s also the first woman I've had at the homesteader's cabin besides Colleen. The irony isn't lost on me.
Silently, I crawl backward out of the bed and admire the view of Candice Arlington.
She's a stunning woman, especially naked, which is my preferred state for females. I chuckle softly. Not an original thought, that.
I dumped my Levi's on the floor. Same style I've worn since junior high school, when I was a thirteen-year-old kid, jacking off to my old man's porn mags. Girls were a dream back then. A lot’s changed since then, but the Levi’s never go out of style. And they don't fall off my ass. Simple is how I like it. Mostly.
Lifting the faithful old denims off the floor, I hunt down the small key and extract it from one of the pockets before dropping the pants back on the floor. I unlock the cuffs holding Candice’s sleeping form, and with agonizing slowness, I move her arms down by her sides.
