Needing Me, Wanting You

by C. M. Stunich

  “You take another step closer and we'll shoot your ass,” the man with the silver beard says, examining Beck from his position on the street. Is this what happened when Darren confronted Triple M yesterday, this same sort of scenario? The tension is so thick in the air, I can only imagine what would happen if Beck were to explode in a spray of blood. A single shot from either side would ignite this fire, turn it into a raging inferno.

  “You want to punish somebody? Make it be me.”

  “You? What the fuck would we want with you? Send your bitches out here and we'll let this go. All we want is to see order and tradition preserved, respected. That isn't so much to ask, is it?”

  I reach out and grab the gun, holding it close to my chest as I watch Beck continue to walk forward. I'm nervous for him, my stomach twisting into knots and sweat dripping down my face. If he gets shot today, I'll never get to figure out what that look meant. It was so … sudden and unexpected. I don't like mysteries.

  “Rough me up. Hell, take my life if it means so damn much to you.”

  “Back your ass up right now, or you're done, motherfucker,” the bearded guy growls. I wonder who he is to this club. I lean forward, trying to catch the rockers on their cuts. I've never seen these guys before, and I've met a lot of groups. It must mean they're not from around here at all. They must have traveled a long, long way.

  “Okay, alright,” Beck says, dropping his arms and turning as if he's about to come back this way. Only he doesn't. He explodes forward in a flurry of leather and muscles, smashing into the bearded man and sending him to the pavement. I stand up suddenly and move outside the gate, raising my gun and pointing it at the men before me. I don't know who they are or why they're here, but I … don't want them to hurt Beck. He's been good to me. Really good. I swallow hard, but nobody's looking at me.

  Beck is on his back on the ground, a knife up against the bearded man's throat.

  “You move, and I slice the life right out o' him. So help me God, you better not bet your ass can hit me. I will warn you, I have been known to break a lot of faces.” Broken Dallas. Those are the words written on the backs of their cuts. It's the club my brother was upset about, about Triple M disrespecting them. This goes to show there are two sides to every story. “Back up,” he growls, pushing the blade into the man's skin. Red swells around the press of the knife. “Come on, on your bikes.” The men of Broken Dallas exchange glances. Beck is taking a big risk here. What if these guys decide they don't care about their leader? It's happened before. He could be killed. I hold my breath and cock the hammer back. Gazes swing over to me and widen in surprise.

  I feel so powerful standing there, like my fate is in my own hands. A lady with a gun. I lick my lips.

  “You heard the man,” I say, wondering where the hell this is coming from. This isn't Tease. She doesn't leave the clubhouse, doesn't do anything but show off her body, tempt the men to the edges of their sanity. That's what she does. I wonder then, if this is Emilie. My lips curl into a smile as a calmness settles around me. I could die right now. Worse could happen. But I'm okay with that. I start to see where Beck is coming from. I wonder briefly if he'll be angry with me after this is over. I'm supposed to be a hostage here, and instead, I'm standing on the front lawn of an abandoned house with a gun clutched in my fingers, defending the group that's my MC's sworn enemy. Traitor.

  “On the bikes or he dies right here and now.” Beck sits up, maneuvering the man with almost no effort, the muscles beneath his shirt sliding around, pressing against the red cotton fabric and threatening to split it wide open. I take another step forward. “I bathe in blood, baby, so I ain't scared to shed it. Get on the Goddamn bikes or I'll slice his throat for fun.” The riders mount their motorcycles, but they don't look happy about it. Brotherhood. At least they really believe some of what they preach. “I'm going to wait here for awhile. You're going to ride away, and then I'll release him, just like that.”

  “How the fuck can we trust you?” one of the men snaps, his vest blowing in the light breeze. Beck's grin gets even wider, stretching the skin on his face.

  “You can't, brother. But you're stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea, so what are you gonna do? You outnumber us two to one, so maybe you'll win. Maybe. But I'm a bit pissed off today. Sure you wanna test me, cupcake? Is some stolen pussy worth the life of your friend? You tell me that.”

  “Fuck you, you back country piece of shit,” the man says, starting up his ride and waving his arm at his fellow club members. “Buy yourself some time now, but don't forget the clock is counting down.” And then they take off, moving like a flock of birds down the narrow streets. True to his word, Beck waits in silence, still smiling, until the sound of the bikes fades away. Not a moment later, he releases the man and shoves him forward, rising to his feet and putting his boot on his back.

  “Triple M might not be a big group, but it don't fuckin' matter. You know why?” The bearded men jerks away from Beck and stands up, rubbing at his throat with a scowl. “Because they got Beck fucking Evans. Get the hell out of here.”

  The man climbs onto his bike and leaves, dropping us into a moment of silence. And then, cheers. Whoops and calls spill out from the windows of the building as Austin climbs the remaining steps and moves over to Beck. He just happens to be sliding the bloody blade along the denim of his jeans.

  “Better get the fuck out of here, Pres,” he tells his friend as I lower the gun and glance around the neighborhood. Looks like most of the houses are abandoned, leaving a literal suburban ghost town populated solely with nomadic bikers. “That display of bravado is only goin' to work once.”

  “You crazy son of a bitch,” Austin says, shaking his head and gesturing at the group with a wave of his arm. “Gonna get your ass shot one day. I swear to Christ … ”

  “Don't swear too hard or your grandma will spin in her grave. Let's go.”

  Beck gets out a cigarette and waits while the garage doors are lifted and the members of Triple M start up their rides. His eyes swing over to me, panning in almost slow motion until his gaze rests on my face.

  “The gun, Evans,” Austin whispers, but he doesn't need to worry about me. Beck already knows that. He walks slowly back into the yard, cig hanging from the side of his mouth, leaning over so that his voice is pouring into my ear, that slow drawl crawling into my brain and making my lashes flutter.

  “Look at you, Miss Hathorne. Ain't you a peach?” And then he reaches down and takes the gun, tossing it down the hill towards Austin. “Hold that for me for a moment?” Beck asks as my thighs clench tight and my nostrils flare. Oh God.

  “No, Beck. Goddamn it. You just said yourself, we ain't got the time.”

  “Won't take long,” he growls around his cigarette, still grinning. I start to back up towards the yard as he stalks after me, penning me in inside the gated area. I look up at Beck's face and reach for the cigarette. His hand snatches my wrist hard and slams it against the fence boards behind us.

  “What won't take long?” I ask him as he moves forward, forcing my legs apart with his knee. Boom, boom, boom. I can barely hear anything over the sound of my heart. That facial expression is back again, hidden under a layer of unbridled lust. I see what it is now: interest. Beck is interested in me. How, why, I don't know. But I like the attention.

  “This,” Beck says, reaching down to undo the zipper on my borrowed leather pants. They fit like a glove, making this sort of thing a hell of a lot more difficult. I should've known I was working with an expert. He slides the pants down, kicking the gate closed with his boot as he bends low, locking my ankles together in leather. When he stands up, he leans in close, cigarette smoke whirling in the air between our faces. “I can't wait to fuck you again.”

  “I can barely walk as it is,” I whisper, but that's not entirely true. The pleasure pumping through my blood has already numbed me to any soreness down there. And I'm already wet and ready for him. My fingers come up and crawl beneath his shirt, scrapi
ng against the solid muscles there, wishing they belonged to me instead of being borrowed. I feel like I'd never get tired of touching them. My mind goes back to yesterday, to the memory of fucking him against the diner. I told myself I was doing it for survival purposes, but in reality, I think I just wanted to. Just like I do right now.

  “Bullshit,” he says, touching my hips and then flipping me around. I brace myself against the fence as Beck pulls my ass towards him. I try to spread my legs, but I can't, my ankles trapped in the leather like the handcuffs I wore on my wrists last night. “You're fine. It's after this that you won't be able to walk.”

  Beck unzips himself and pushes his dick up against me, sliding it between my cheeks, tasting the wetness with his shaft. I think of all the people outside the gate, waiting, possibly listening, but I can't keep myself quiet. Moans escape anyway.

  “This is gonna be tight, babe. Brace yourself.” I take a deep breath, but it doesn't prepare me for the pressure of Beck's cock as he forces it between my swollen folds, working hard to fill me up.

  “It hurts Beck,” I whisper as he moves inside of me, using my hips as handles, pumping slow and deep, grinding his dick against my ridges. “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.” I gasp as he slams his pelvis into my ass. It feels so much deeper like this, so much bigger. I naturally try to spread my legs again, but they're trapped. They're trapped, and I love it.

  “And?” he drawls, voice wicked dark and full of masculine satisfaction. “You are so damn tight, Emilie. So tight.” He continues to thrust in a slow pounding motion that makes my head spin and my knees go weak. Beck's hands on my hips are the only things keeping me upright at this point. Despite the slight bite of pain, I find myself arching my back and pressing into him. My fingers curl against the rough wood of the fence as moans drip unwanted from my lips.

  “Hurry up, asshole!” one of Beck's friends shouts from the other side of the fence.

  “You heard the man,” Beck snarls, picking up his speed. “Hurry up before I come inside of you and decide it's time to go.”

  “You're so mean,” I whimper because I can't think of anything else to say. Tears prick my eyes, but not out of emotion, just the sheer overwhelming sensation of pleasure, the tightness down below, the feeling of being full. I don't think I've ever felt this … complete before. I don't think I've ever felt like this much of a woman. I wielded a gun and now I'm wielding a massive, throbbing cock, penetrating me so deep, it's like I can feel him in my belly. “But it feels so damn good. So good. So so so good.” I cry out, my muscles quivering as I listen to Beck's snarls. My body gets even wetter, coating his dick in my natural lube, mixing my juices with his pre-ejaculate. Everything down there starts to work better, moving faster, like a well oiled machine. “Do it,” I whine, hating the sound of my own voice. Wow. I just got steamrollered by Beck Evans. “Do it. Come inside.”

  Beck's hands tighten on my flesh, marking the same spots he bruised last night, branding me harder than any fucking jacket could ever do. Wow, Lizzie sure would be proud of you right now. Traitor. I ignore my inner thoughts. It's not that difficult to do with a massive cock pummeling your pussy.

  Beck whoops, cheering like he's at a fucking football game or something, spilling his seed inside of me with a last violent thrust and pulling away without so much as a pat on the back. When I spin around and slam my back into the fence, he's grinning. And he already has a cigarette tucked between his lips.

  Beck leans over and whispers in my ear.

  “Like I said, before you go, you're getting oral sex from me. Remember this for later, and loosen up.” He winks at me and bends down, grabbing my pants and sliding them up my legs, buttoning them as he presses a scalding kiss to my mouth.

  I'm so horny right now, shaking with adrenaline and undeniable desperation, that I know later, if he offers, I'm going to do it. Bastard. Bastard. Bastard. I follow Beck out the gate, ignoring the catcalls and the whispers, and climb onto the back of his bike. Even angry, even quivering with pent up need, I can tell I'm going to miss this guy.

  Beck

  Chapter 18

  We ride to a hotel on the outskirts of Nashville, settling in well after dark. I have all these grand plans for Tease when we get there, but she ends up falling asleep on the bike. Austin doesn't even bother to ask questions when I tell him we're rooming together. Nobody really needs to ask any questions at this point. What we were doing behind the fence is common fuckin' knowledge at this point.

  “Come on, sweet thing,” I whisper, lifting the girl off my bike and holding her in my arms. Nobody bothers me as I carry her to our room, laying her out flat on the bed and pulling down the covers. She stirs, but not much, making me wonder if I've somehow managed to earn her trust. I fucking kidnapped the poor girl, so I feel a little guilty about it, but it seems right somehow. Like the hand of frigging fate reached into our lives and pushed us together. Boy, when I saw her with that gun clutched in her hand, I almost exploded right in my fucking pants. Hottest damn shit I ever saw. “Sleep tight, Emilie,” I say as I flick off the light and retreat to the patio to smoke a quick cigarette. Austin wants to meet in the bar in an hour anyway and discuss our next game plan. The whole thing makes me think of that night we went to the bar, when Gaine and Mireya picked up that girl, Crystal. How she ended up with me and Melissa instead. How Gaine found her naked on the side of the road. “Shit.” I flick my smoke over the balcony and lock the doors behind me. It's a little early to go downstairs, but if Tease is asleep then I might as well go. Sitting here and having to look at her beautiful body is damn near akin to torture.

  I like this girl. Just met her yesterday and I'm already interested. Like Austin was in Amy.

  “I ain't ready to fall in love,” I groan as I push into the hallway and pause, my gaze following the blue sign on the wall to the pool. Normally, I'd venture down there, check and see if there might be any ladies lookin' for some company. Tonight, I got Tease, and I feel good about that. Even if she is asleep. Huh. I shake my head and turn in the opposite direction, pausing as one of the doors on my left opens and Kimmi emerges. She's dressed in a pair of black leggings and a purple tank that displays her black bra with ease. “I like the yellow heels,” I tell her as she hooks her arm around mine. “Those new?”

  “I got them off a chick I banged last week.” I laugh. Unapologetic, crude, just as pervy as me. That's my Kimmi. “She left them¸ so I decided to keep them. As a souvenir, of course.”

  “You going to be able to give all that up when you fall head over heels for Christy?” Kimmi snorts and shakes her head, orange hair flying every which way.

  “Like that's ever going to happen. I so much as speak to the girl and she spooks. This could be a very long process.”

  “But you're committed?” I ask as we move down the hallway. “I mean, you really do think you and this chick have a magic spark?” Kimmi pats my hand and grins wide, twirling her free hand around in the pearls she's got draped around her neck.

  “Funny you'd be asking me that. What about the Seventy-seven Brothers bitch? You seem pretty into what she's selling.” We hit the lobby, and I find myself surrounded by some sort of fancy party. A weddin' maybe? It's somehow migrated from the ballroom, into the lobby, and now over to the bar. There are bridesmaids fucking everywhere, and I'm hardly tempted. You know that whole phrase, why go out for burgers when you got steak at home? Fuck, these bitches are like McDonald's and Tease is a Goddamn filet.

  “I like her, Kimmi. She's hot shit in the bedroom, and her soul is old, like she's lived a hundred lives before this one.”

  “Do you feel her though? Do you get that sense of other when you're around her? Don't think too hard about this. It shouldn't be a difficult question.”

  “I met her yesterday, Reynolds,” I say, taking my place at the bar and ordering a whiskey sour. Kimmi orders a stout beer and we sit in silence for a minute.

  “Yes, but you already feel something, don't you? There are only two ways fires can burn,
Beck. One's a slow burn, a coal, an ember, that you have to feed until it grows into a raging flame. The other's an explosion. Did you have an explosion, Beck? Because since I met you, I've never seen you get that face.”

  “What face?” I ask, slapping a wad of cash on the bar and grabbing my drink. I toss out the cherry and the fuckin' lemon wedge and drink it down like a shot. Kimmi leans back and gives me her best no bullshit look.

  “Like you want to own her,” she says with a smirk. “Like you see something in her you've never seen in anyone else.” I laugh my ass off at that one, slapping my hand on the bar and drawing curious eyes in our direction.

  “Kim, would you listen to the crap that's spewing out of your throat? I don't even know how you get laid with that romance novel bull. I like the girl, and I'm interested, and sure, I'm curious. I wonder what might happen if we had more time together.”

  “Ah. The Monday thing makes sense now,” she says with a slight smile. “But I don't know that Tease's brother is going to go for it.”

  “What is he going to do, tell us no? If he wants his sister back, he'll wait. I have to follow this thing through or I don't know, I'll always have that question in the back of my mind.” I gesture loosely at the air around us, like that could explain how fucking weird I'm being right now. “When I imagine her walkin' away from me, I … don't know. Never fucking mind.”

  “Hey,” Gaine says, swinging onto the stool next to me. Mireya takes up the one on his right and leans her elbows on the counter. “Did I just hear what I thought I heard? And you're always making fun of me for talkin' fairytales?” I lean over the bar and give him a look.