by Jenika Snow
And then he kissed her and everything else faded away until it was just the two of them.
****
They panted against each other’s mouths, and when he broke the kiss it was only to get them both undressed. Angelina didn’t stop him, and in fact moaned out for more, whispering for him to go faster. Once they were both naked, nothing shielding them, and his body pressed against hers again, he kissed her like a fiend.
His cock was so fucking hard, but then again since first seeing her Fury felt like he’d had a constant erection for her. All could think about was that she was here, with him, and smelling and tasting so fucking good.
Mouths still latched in a demanding kiss, Fury curled his fingers around her hips, pulled her impossibly closer, and turned them until they were walking toward the bed. This was about her getting off, about Angelina feeling pleasure and not worrying about anything. He could see, feel how tense and nervous she was about all of this, and it was his fault. He’d screwed up her life enough, and although he couldn’t let her go, couldn’t walk away, he could make her forget about it all, even if only for a short time.
He groaned deeply when his cock pressed right against her soft, warm flesh. She was so fucking gorgeous, shaped like a woman, and he loved it. When she placed her hand on his cock, a groan ripped from him.
She reached between them to take hold of his dick, but he moved away and cupped her cheek. “Right now is about you, baby.” God, she was so fucking beautiful.
“I just want to be with you,” she whispered.
Yeah, he wanted to be with her, too, but he wanted to make sure she was lost in it all.
She was his, and it took this fucked up situation to show Fury there wasn’t anyone else in the world for either of them.
****
Angelina wanted to be with him, wanted to feel his dick inside of her, thrusting, making her get off. She didn’t care that Stone might be able to hear them. She also didn’t care that come tomorrow a lot of shit was going to go down with her father and the club. This was just about them right now. He stared at her while cupping her cheek, and raw, unadulterated lust slammed into her, so fast and fierce it took her breath away.
Fury had his hands on her ass, curled his fingers around the flesh, and helped her back on the bed until she was sprawled on it. For long seconds he just looked down at her, and then he was on his knees before her, pushing her thighs further apart.
“This is about you, baby,” he said right before he leaned forward and started running his tongue along her inner thigh, getting closer to her pussy. She shamelessly lifted her hips, needing more.
She felt free with him, safe and protected, despite the irony of it all.
The chill in the air seeped over her flesh, and she knew her nipples were hard, elongated for him. The tissue felt sensitive and hard. Her erogenous zones tingled as he watched her. It was like Fury wanted to memorize every inch of her.
“I’d kill anyone that hurt you, that thought about hurting you,” he said under his breath, as if he spoke to himself. “And I know how fucking crazy that sounds given the fact I’m the one that drugged and kidnapped you, chained you up like an animal.”
Her heart was thundering in her chest.
“My mind wasn’t in a good place, and all I wanted was revenge. But ever since I saw you something in me shifted. I just didn’t want to acknowledge it, any of it.” A second of silence passed between them. “But no more, Angelina. It’s you and me, and I don’t want to fuck this up any more than I have.”
She nodded, knowing what he meant.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful. You shouldn’t want me because of the type of man I am.” She saw his throat work as he swallowed, felt his fingers rubbing over her leg, back and forth. He stared at her eyes, moved an inch closer so he was right in front of her now and his cock was right between her thighs.
“Spread your legs wider. Let me see your soaking cunt.”
His coarse language sent her arousal higher, and she didn’t even hesitate to do what he said. She felt weak with need, and Angelina wanted to please him, wanted to do anything he said, because that pleased her, as well. This really was what she wanted. Fury was what she wanted. Angelina knew being with him, even in this manner where he didn’t sugarcoat anything, where he didn’t apologize for who he was, was exactly what she wanted and needed in her life.
Chapter Seventeen
Fury hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d had his head between his woman’s thighs until she’d come three times, and only after Angelina begged for his cock did he surrender and give it to her. But he hadn’t fucked her. No, he’d made love to her, thrust in and out of her slowly while staring in her eyes, telling her that they could be fucked up together in this screwed up world.
What in the hell is happening to me?
He scrubbed a hand over his face and breathed out, looking out the window as the sun just started to peek over the tree line. The club had contacted them last night, letting them know they were coming up, and a lot of shit needed to be put on the table. Fury knew he’d fucked up, that going behind the MC’s back was wrong on every level, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly. He’d wanted his club protected, and he was willing to go to any lengths to ensure that.
Looking over his shoulder at Angelina, his chest ached something fierce as he stared at her. Today there was going to be a lot of explaining on his part to the rest of the club, but also they were going to have to come up with a plan to get to Sal. They had a starting point, which was the cabin Angelina mentioned, but from this point on he didn’t want her part of this. He’d already tainted her with his issues and the fact he’d brought her in on this, but no more.
Fury didn’t care that they’d just met, or that the circumstance as to why she was here was less than honorable. He wanted her, wanted to protect her and be with her, and he’d make sure that happened without the repercussions of her getting even deeper into this than he’d already gotten her. But he also didn’t want her father’s blood on her hands, and if she were there, witnessing what he wanted to do to Sal, then he knew that would forever scar her, no matter what she said.
“What time is it?” she asked in a sleepy voice.
“Early, baby.”
She rolled over so she was facing him, her eyes open but sleep-filled. Fury got up and dressed, and then leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.
“You can sleep longer.”
“The club will be here soon.”
He nodded. Yeah, and as much as he wanted to keep her away from this, which was pretty fucking twisted given the fact he was the one to bring her into it in the first place, the MC would want her there, as well. What Fury had done to her was despicable, and the Bleeding Mayhem sure as fuck didn’t do this kind of shit to women.
“I don’t think I can go back to sleep anyway,” she said and sat up, the sheet falling away from her naked body. Fury couldn’t help but stare at how beautiful she was. Her long dark hair was tussled from sleep and the fact he’d made love to her. Yeah, Fury had made love to her, and he wanted to do it every night and then hold her close as she slept.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous.”
Angelina smiled and pushed a stray piece of hair away from her face.
“Fury, get the fuck out here.” Birdie’s voice was hard, and Fury went right to attention.
“Get dressed and come out, baby.”
She nodded and was off the bed in seconds. Fury shut the bedroom door behind him and stared at Birdie and Stone.
“What?” he asked, his blood pumping hard, adrenaline already coursing through his veins.
Birdie tipped his chin toward the kitchen, and Fury glanced over, his heart stalling for a second before it started beating harder and stronger than before. There, standing in the center of the kitchen was Sal Cardona flanked by four men. Guns were trained on the three of them, and another man, who held a woman in front of him with a knife to her neck, stood off to the side.
Sal
took a weak step closer, and Fury looked down at the cast on his leg. He had one of those boots on to allow him to walk on it, but didn’t have any crutches. Good, they’d hurt the fucker. He deserved so much more, though. Sal’s men didn’t move with him, but kept their guns at the ready.
“So, you’re the one that took my daughter,” Sal said, not phrasing it like a question.
Fury didn’t respond, but he could see Birdie and Stone shifting slightly on their feet. They had guns stashed all around the cabin, for obvious reasons, but at the moment trying to get to any of them would mean a lot of gunfire aimed their way.
“I could have killed you just an hour ago while my daughter slept beside you, but I thought this would be a more appropriate introduction.” Sal moved around the counter in the kitchen and ran his finger over the granite. “And besides, I wanted to make sure your death was nice and slow, because what you and your club did to my son can’t be forgotten.”
Fury clenched his hands into fists at his side and breathed out. His heart was thundering as he thought about Angelina in the other room. And then he heard her in the bedroom. Fury looked at her, could see she’d already been aware they were out here, and he surmised she’d probably heard her father speaking.
“There she is, my traitorous daughter,” Sal all but spit out, venom in his voice.
Fury moved to the side to get in front of her, a human shield to block whatever vileness her father would throw at her, but the sound of Sal tsking, and of the guns from his men being cocked, had Fury stilling.
“Honorable,” Sal said, speaking to Fury. “But what little compassion I might have held for my daughter back in the day, faded when I realized she ran of her own free will, and slept with the enemy.”
“You never held any compassion for me,” Angelina said from behind him, her voice strong, clear, despite the fact he assumed she was scared shitless.
Sal smirked and looked over Fury’s shoulder at her. “Come here, Angelina.” A moment of silence stretched before Fury heard her stepping closer. He saw her move around him, and both of their gazes clashed for a suspended moment.
The club had to be arriving any minute, but were there more men in the surrounding area, waiting, watching? It would have been smart of Sal to bring more than five guys.
Angelina now stood in front of Fury, feet from her father, and her head held high. She wore his clothing again, the material sagging off her body. Sal looked her up and down, and the disgust on his face was clear.
“Sleeping with the Cardona enemy, Angelina?”
She didn’t respond.
“You are nothing more than a traitor to your family. If your brother was here—”
“But he’s not, because his life was shitty in every way. He took lives, murdered, raped, stole, and didn’t care for anyone but himself and what he could gain.”
Fucking hell, Angelina.
Sal’s nostrils flared, his anger clear on his face.
“And you’re no better.”
Goddammit. She was going to get herself killed, and Fury wouldn’t be able to stop it until it was too late.
Before Fury could anticipate what was going to happen Sal backhanded Angelina hard enough her head cocked to the side. Fury was in front of her a second later, pushing her behind the safety of his body, and wanting to open Sal’s neck and watch him bleed out. He could have knocked the fucker back, but Sal’s men were right next to him a second later, four guns trained at Fury’s chest.
“Protective, which is admirable, but it isn’t going to help you when this is all said and done.” Sal grinned.
“Who the fuck is the girl?” Birdie asked. Leave it to the other man to point out something that wasn’t their issue at this moment.
All eyes went to the fucker that held the woman. She looked groggy, probably because she’d been drugged. At least it didn’t appear she was afraid.
“Go on, sweetheart,” the man holding her said. He had his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her up, and grinning like a sadistic bastard. “Tell them,” he said with a harder voice.
“Allie,” she said, her voice thick because of whatever she was on. “My mother is Trixie.”
Shit.
Fury knew who Trixie was, not because he’d fucked her, but because she’d been around the club for a long time. She was a good person, and although he hadn’t known she had a daughter, this fucker was using her as leverage.
“And before you ask what I’m doing with her,” the fucker said. “I just want you to know she’s the icing on top of the shit storm. I’m going to make her hurt before I have my way with her. If I have to haul her around as payback, I might as well get some pleasure out of it.”
“You sick bastard, Nando,” Angelina said, her voice thick now from her emotions.
Nando chuckled.
Fury saw a glint out the window in the tree line in his peripheral vision, and glanced to the side. His body tensed when he saw a flash of leather and denim, and the gun Shorty held.
The club was here.
Chapter Eighteen
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Sal and his men pulled her away from Fury, and he roared out like an enraged animal.
“Get your fucking hands off of her,” Fury said and went to grab her away from Sal, but one of her father’s men jammed the butt of his gun in Fury’s temple. He stumbled back, but still looked so angry, and even unfazed as blood ran down his temple.
“Come after her again and I’ll make sure Angelina is the one that gets the hit to the head,” Sal said, the threat real.
The Cardona men kept the barrels of their guns trained at the three bikers. Her father had his hand wrapped tightly around her forearm and all but dragged her out of the cabin. Fury and the other two bikers were ushered behind them with the guns trained to the back of their skulls.
Once outside she saw her father’s dark SUV, along with another one beside it. This couldn’t be how this ended for her, because she knew her father seeing her as a traitor meant she’d be treated as such. She was no longer his blood, but an expendable “example to be shown to others”.
The air was crisp for how early it was, but the sun was starting to rise, and the brightness of it crept over the trees, blinding her for a second. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes, but was yanked forward by Sal. The stairs of the porch caught her off guard, and she tumbled forward. Sal curled his lip in disgust and yanked her up so she was righted.
“You’re pathetic,” he said, disgust lacing his voice. “I’m glad your brother isn’t here to see this, to see what a failure and traitor you became.”
There were a lot of things she wanted to say, but didn’t know where to start. She knew if she didn’t get out of this she was as good as dead, and the very thought of Fury not being in her life hurt like hell.
“Your mother couldn’t even be bothered with you, not when you’re a little bitch and ran from us,” Sal said and faced her once they were just feet from the SUV. “She’s too grief-stricken by the loss of her son, her one child that actually made her proud. Pills, alcohol, and her depression made her a recluse.” Sal sneered at Angelina. “You should have been there to tend to her.”
Angelina didn’t bother commenting that she’d just found out Marco died, and also didn’t mention that her mother had been more focused on herself than to worry about the daughter she had growing up isolated and alone. No, saying any of that wouldn’t have mattered or made a difference.
“And when I get you back to the cabin I’m going to cleanse you. By the time you take your last breath you’ll be a Cardona again … a dead one, but one that will know what she left, and is regretful.”
No, they could torture and kill her, but she’d never regret leaving or finding Fury. She looked behind her at him, and saw his focus was on her even though a gun was pressed right to his head. There was determination in his eyes, intent, and for some reason this feeling like everything would be okay washed through her. It was only that second of realization and c
omfort that moved through her body before she heard the first gun being fired off. Angelina didn’t know which direction it came from, but she ducked on instinct.
The shouts, guns being fired, and violence that instantly coated that air had adrenaline washing through her. The fight or flight instinct kicked in, but Sal still had his hand wrapped tightly around her forearm.
“You’re not getting away that easily. Nando,” Sal shouted. “Get rid of the fucking deadweight and help me toss Angelina in the SUV,” Sal said, speaking about the drugged-up girl Nando had taken hostage.
Before anyone else could move the gunfire became the only sound she heard. Her ears rang, her blood rushed through her veins, and fear slammed into her. She tried to see where Fury was, but the dirt from the ground made this dusty haze around them, making trying to see anything nearly impossible. Wrenching her hand away from her father’s grasp wasn’t as easy as it should have been. He was older, yes, but he was also strong as hell. But the chaos all around them had things up in the air, had focuses shifting, and she kicked out, trying to get him in his injured leg.
“You fucking ungrateful bitch,” Sal grunted out when she just barely missed him.
“I’m not going down like this.” And she wasn’t, wouldn’t ever be a pawn again.
She coughed as she inhaled the dust surrounding them, and the shouts that came through were muffled. But she spotted Nando, that asshole who was clearly not going to let go of the girl for whatever reason, start to make his way away from the carnage. Someone knocked into her and she fell backward, her father’s grasp coming undone from her. A gun skittered a few feet from her, and she crawled for it, staying down so a stray bullet didn’t get her. With her fingers now wrapped around the butt of the weapon, she turned and aimed at Nando. He was slowly making his way further from the fight. She might not be a good shot, but she’d practiced a few times throughout her life.
Aiming the gun at him she fired before he got too far away. Pleasure filled her when she saw the bullet hit Nando, but he kept moving, so she didn’t know how bad she’d gotten him.
