Raw: Street Demons MC

by Ada Stone

  We continued to kiss like that until I felt so worked up I might have screamed in his mouth, but finally he broke his mouth away and began to trail it down my neck. I moaned as his tongue laved at my neck and down lower to trace my collarbone. I felt his hands gather me up at my waist, but was still surprised when he lifted me up. I let out a squeak of surprise—which he laughed a little at, though it was breathy and gone almost as soon as it came—and automatically my legs wrapped around his middle. He held me up, his arms bracing me beneath my rear to keep me up. His mouth continued to lavish me with attention, his lips and tongue working their way lower to the valley of my breasts, licking at my sweaty skin as though he simply liked the way I tasted.

  Maybe he did.

  We were moving—or he was and I was going with him by default—but I was only half paying attention. My head was thrown back, my eyes closed, my hands gripping his thick, damp hair as he continued to lick and kiss my skin, having found the sides of my breasts. His teeth grazed the side of one tit and I let out a low, guttural moan of pleasure.

  I wanted more.

  His hands found their way up beneath the line of my shorts to cup my ass. I felt his thumb at the edge of my panties, fingering slowly beneath them. Not quite where I found I wanted him, but close, so damn close.

  I had time to make a frustrated sound before I realized that he’d taken us to his bed. He dropped me down, letting me bounce a little, then knelt over me. His hands had removed from my ass to come around the front. They went to work quickly on the button of my short shorts and then yanked down the zipper. Before he took my shorts completely off, he leaned forward until I felt his hot breath on my navel. I shivered and then I felt his tongue slip along my skin. My muscles contracted, my hands fisted the sheets, and I swore, that single touch almost more than I could handle.

  He kissed me there, and then trailed lower, butterfly kisses slipping over my sweaty flesh. He reached the top of my panties and used his fingers to pull the fabric down lower so he could kiss more.

  I felt as though I was struggling just to breathe, desperate for something I only even half understood, and when he pulled my underwear down low enough that he found my lips—moist and swollen already with need—I nearly lost my mind. His tongue licked across my opening and I cried out something that sounded like his name but could have just as easily been a prayer or a curse.

  He pulled my shorts and panties down the rest of the way so that my lower half was exposed to him. Using his hands, he pulled me apart, holding my lips open so that he could kiss my opening, slide his tongue along it and into it, too.

  I gripped the sheets tightly, my hips lifting seemingly of their own accord to press his face closer to me. His hands moved so that he could brace my pelvis on the bed, holding me down as his mouth continued to kiss my slick opening.

  I cried out again as he moved his hand again, this time allowing a thumb to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves just above my opening.

  “Oh god!” I half yelled, half moaned.

  He continued to pleasure me with his mouth as his thumb rubbed me. Soon pleasure built inside of me, mounting until it was uncontrollable. I burst with need and want and satisfaction all at once, leaving my sweetness pouring into his mouth and onto the bed.

  When I had finished, I looked up to find that Nick had straightened and removed his shirt. He was working on his pants now, and I shuddered as I realized there was most definitely more to come.

  I couldn’t even sit up—I felt like boneless jelly—and whined as much, only because it meant I couldn’t take off my shirt.

  Nick grinned at me, face flushed, pants sliding down, erection tall and proud. He came to me then and grabbed me at the waist, lifting me up so that he could help me work my shirt over my head. The bra was easier, thankfully, because I’d chosen a front clasp.

  “Eager?” was all he commented, and I only nodded in response. He didn’t mind and I was grateful when my breasts were released, free only to be caged a moment later by his hands.

  He settled between my legs and I felt him rub along my entrance, getting himself lubricated before diving inside me. He kissed my face and my lips, my neck and shoulders, everywhere he could reach with his mouth. And he caressed me, his touch gentle, controlled, deliberate. He was still working to make sure that this was good for me, that I wouldn’t run when we got too far.

  But I wasn’t running anywhere.

  “Please,” I murmured, not caring that I was begging him. “Please, just take me.”

  And he did. He was careful and slow and patient, giving as much as taking, and I knew it was hard for him. His length filled me up completely, stretching me until I felt like I might lose my mind, then pumping into me in a pace that was too slow for both of us.

  But we built it up. Slowly, surely, and when the pace was finally fast and hard he was so close to the end and I was so worked up that I felt like I might explode, it was no wonder that he spilled himself across my belly and breasts.

  We’d lain there in the heat, in our own sweat and other things, caressing and kissing each other like it was the first time. It wasn’t, neither of us were virgins, but it was the most important time, because it was that first moment between us where I acknowledged just how much I trusted Nick. And he showed me without words just how much he would be patient and loving with me.

  It was always my choice.

  The memory made me want to cry and it was only the knowledge that Sal would eventually be back that kept me from doing so. I had already begged and bargained and cried in front of that man. I wouldn’t let him see me do it again, not if I could help it.

  I would have to try to be strong, because at the very least maybe I could go with some kind of dignity.

  It was on this thought that I heard the lock click. My gaze jerked to the door to find it opening. Past the door was Sal and beyond him were guards posted outside my door. It occurred to me then that this was like a compound, not a house, but I decided it was kind of irrelevant at this point. I knew exactly what kind of monster Sal was now.

  He walked into the room, his presence immediately making things about ten times worse. I was more aware of being trapped, of the bruises on my face, and my own impending death. It was hard not to be when the man who was keeping you hostage entered your room with that malicious, deplorable look in his eyes.

  “Are you comfortable?” he asked.

  I had been sitting in one of the chairs—I didn’t want to be in the bed, I wanted to be ready in case there was any chance for escape—but stood as soon as I heard the door click. I folded my arms across my chest at his question now.

  “Just stop this, Sal,” I heard myself say, steadier and stronger than I felt. Inside, I was trembling with fear and the knowledge that there was no reasoning with the man in front of me. He was a death sentence, an executioner, and we both knew it. But I tried anyway, because trying kept me busy. It meant I didn’t fall into a blubbering puddle of a mess, terrified and panicked and pathetic.

  Keep your dignity, I reminded myself, because it was my last goal. I didn’t know what else to do.

  “Stop what?” he inquired, putting on an innocent, overly confused expression that was so clearly fake it could only be meant to look fake. He gestured with his arms to the room surrounding us. “I put you up in one of my nicest rooms. I made sure you were safe from outside intruders.” I snorted at that and he narrowed, not appreciating even that small interruption. But he continued as though he hadn’t heard it. “I even gave you a large, luxurious bed. One that would make any whore pleased.”

  I froze at that word. Whore. A sudden, devastating thought occurred to me. I was so desperate for it not to be true that I shoved it aside, but even as I did so I took a step back, putting more distance between Sal and me.

  He smiled at me, slow and easy, like he had figured out what I had just realized and liked it very much. He was enjoying my sudden spike of terror.

  I began to shake my head as he continued speaking, t
aking a step into the room. “I figured you would be happy to spread your legs on that kind of luxury.” His tone wasn’t malicious, but his words were and so were his icy eyes.

  I swallowed, my eyes darting around him in hopes of finding a way out.

  The door remained open behind him, but I saw the guards and Sal was blocking that means of exit anyway, so I knew there was no chance of getting out, but hope springs eternal and I just couldn’t help wishing it.

  When he began to unbutton his shirt, panic really began to set in. I had figured out by now just what his plans were and they had my stomach roiling in protest, bile trying to climb its way up my throat. I needed to get around Sal and out that door, but if I did, the guards would stop me and then drag me back. Maybe they’d even hold me down for him.

  I shuddered. Sal saw and it made his grin widen.

  He shrugged his shirt off, exposing a chest that was muscular and covered in tattoos, but somehow not as pretty as Nick’s. Maybe it was because I knew Nick, knew that inside he was a good man no matter how disgusted with me he was or how angry. In the end, Nick did the right thing because it was the right thing, not because I deserved it.

  That idea seemed at odds with his lifestyle, but people just didn’t understand Nick. He had boundaries and rules that he both followed and insisted his men follow, too. Rules like no prostitution.

  I shuddered again as I watched Sal.

  His hands went to his belt and I let out a whimper as I saw him undo it.

  “Don’t worry, my little slut,” he said to me, licking his lips. “I’m coming. Are you ready for me, whore? Are you ready to give me what’s rightfully mine?”

  I trembled with fear and disgust and was shaking my head in earnest now. I felt the tears burn and sting my eyes, doing my best to fight them back and failing miserably. “Please, don’t do this. Please, Sal—”

  “Don’t act like you don’t want it,” he snapped at me angrily, coming closer. “Don’t act like you don’t want to spread your legs and let a long, hard dick slide into you, because I know that you do. All that time you were feeding me bullshit excuses—I want to wait, Sal; I want this to be right, Sal; not until we’re married, Sal. Did you let all of Heaven’s Wrath fuck you like a good little whore? Were you their little mascot, your pussy dripping and quivering? Or was it just Nick who got to fill your hole up? Or maybe you had them all at once, eh? Did you like having all your holes filled at the same time, you filthy, nasty bitch?”

  The tears fell and I knew that it was now or never. If I didn’t make a break for it now, I’d never get another chance. Right now, Sal was berating me, doing his absolute best to get under my skin. His words hurt, but they weren’t true. I had only been with two men in my life and Nick was the only one I’d been with since I met him. Sal could call me what he wanted and say that I did whatever he wanted, but it didn’t make any of it true. And I wouldn’t let it be true if I could help it. But that meant I had to go now, because I knew that soon he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  I braced myself, then I ran. I tried to dive around Sal, and got halfway to the door, but no one was going to let it be that easy. One of the guards came in through the open door, effectively blocking it, though he needn’t have done so. Sal had grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me back already.

  I cried out as he threw me to the bed. I landed heavily on it, grateful for its softness one second and feeling terrified of it the next. Now that I was here, there was no way Sal was going to let me up from it, not until he’d had his fun with me. My stomach twisted into terrified knots as I grew sick with the thought.

  I tried to scramble off of the bed, desperate to get away, but Sal was already on top of me, pushing me back into it. He straddled me, a knee on either side of my hips, and his hands were holding my wrists in a vicelike grip. I struggled, but it was no use. I wasn’t strong enough to get Sal off of me and gravity was on his side to begin with.

  The guard who still lingered in the door asked, “You want me to hold her for you, boss?”

  I felt sick at the calm, only half interested tone of his voice. Like this was fine. Like he didn’t care that his boss was about to rape some poor, helpless woman. It didn’t matter if he knew me or not, surely he could find it in his cold heart to at least feel a little bad about that.

  But he didn’t. Not even a little bit.

  “Not yet,” Sal answered him, anger finally showing through in his face, in the glinting of his eyes. “But maybe after I’ve had my fun with her, I’ll let you have a turn, too. Whores like getting pumped, don’t they? I’m sure she’ll enjoy having you—and every other member of Vengeful Gods—fuck her until she’s begging me to kill her. Maybe when Nick gets here, I’ll let him watch, too. He’ll probably fucking like it.”

  By this point the tears were actually falling, blurring my vision—a soft, horrid mercy. I tried to buck Sal off of me, desperate and terrified, but it was no use. I glanced past his shoulder, my tears making it difficult to see much, but I could make out the outline of the guard. And worse still, I could see well enough to just make out the curve of his mouth in a sick, disgusting smile.

  He was enjoying this—they all would. There was no help for me, and even if Nick did come to help me, he would be disgusted by the used, destroyed ragdoll he found in my place.

  I prayed for the first time that Sal would simply kill me. It would be better than this.

  Sal backhanded me suddenly and I let out a cry. “Bitch! Look at me!” Using only one hand, he pinned my hands above my head. With his now free hand, he began grabbing at my clothes, tearing at them. The buttons of my shirt popped off, sending them flying across the room. I didn’t have a bra beneath, having lost it somewhere during my tryst with Nick, and now my breasts were bare before Sal’s malicious, hungry gaze.

  I wanted to cover them up, was desperate to, but couldn’t do a damn thing as his hand grabbed at my breast roughly, tugging and pinching and squeezing without any care for what I felt.

  I continued to cry and beg, struggling even though there was little I could do.

  When his hand left my chest to undo his pants and pull out his hard length, I cried harder. “Please, Sal,” I said, not caring how pathetic I sounded anymore.

  “Shut up, slut, or I’ll fill up your mouth with something long and thick to keep you quiet,” he threated, beginning to rub himself so that he was longer still. I looked away, horror seeping into my being as I continued to struggle. “Did you suck him, too? I’ll bet you did, you filthy whore. I’ll bet you sucked him off, maybe let him spray across that pretty little face of yours. I’ll bet you let him put it wherever he wanted. Well, don’t worry; I’ll show you the same courtesy.”

  When he moved, his cock hard now, bringing it closer to me, I did the only thing I had left to do. I screamed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Nick

  I knew where Sal lived because I had kept tabs on him back when we were trying to be something like friends and were quickly turning into enemies. When he moved—around the same time he started to bring in a lot of money from his illegal activities, not unlike myself—I made a point of finding out where.

  There was no question in my mind that he did the exact same thing with me.

  I was in the lead on my motorcycle, followed closely behind by Wildcard, Schumacher, and Bones. The Bobby Boys were coming, too, but they were taking the back way just to make sure no one tried anything stupid—like try to run.

  The rest of my guys were in the area at my behest, but I wanted them to still look like they were harassing Sal’s people. Keep most of the distracted, I hoped, but I still wanted my guys close enough to call if things got messy at Sal’s.

  Which they probably would.

  The neighborhood where Sal lived wasn’t great. It was one of those middle class places that was just a little too poor to actually be middle class and so far away from actual suburbia that it was kind of funny. All the same, the houses were at least interesting because
they were older—and rundown for the most part—as opposed to the cookie cutter monstrosities of true suburbia hell. I knew that Sal picked this area—this neighborhood—specifically because of those qualities. It meant he could have a nice house without paying out the ass, a means of showing his wealth and making him feel like the top dog without having to pull a Scarface and get all the gaudy shit that would be necessary to outdo any truly rich neighbors.

  Sal had money, but he didn’t have that kind of money.

  My bike whirred and roared as I sped down the road, not caring that I was likely waking up and disturbing everyone in the area. If Sal lived here, they were probably used to it anyway and I wasn’t in the mood to be generous as far as other people’s peace just then.