“Ummm, welcome home? Bear sent me.” Maybe, talking would give my heart time to get a grip inside my body. But the realization of what I was about to do struck me stupid and left me standing paralyzed in front of the shadow.
Ignoring my pitiful attempt at conversation, he shuffled to the edge of the bed. Although I couldn’t make out his features, his shadowy frame was massive.
He sat up and reached out, I braced myself for his touch, but there was no contact. Instead, he grabbed a bottle off of the nightstand behind me. He tilted it up to his mouth, taking a long, slow pull. His swallows were loud in the silence of the little room.
Again, I wiped my palms on my skirt, hoping the darkness cloaked my nerves better than the perspiration on my hands.
“Do I make you nervous?” he asked, as if reading my mind. I could smell the fresh whiskey on his breath.
“No,” I answered breathlessly, the lie getting caught in my throat. A large hand grabbed my waist roughly, tugging me into the space between his legs. His fingers dug into my hips and I squealed in surprise.
“Don’t you lie to me, girl,” he growled, without a hint of playfulness. My blood ran cold. My heart raced. He took another swig from the bottle, reaching behind me again to set it down. This time when he trailed back, he did it slowly, rubbing his cheek against mine, his facial hair not long enough to be considered a beard but longer than stubble. Unexpected tingles danced down my spine, and I fought the urge to touch his face. “Do you always ignore people when they ask you a question?”
Yes, yes he made me nervous. He made me so fucking nervous I couldn’t find my tongue. I didn’t expect this. I expected to spread my legs for some drunk horny asshole so he could have his way with me in a room that was too bright.
Instead, I stood in the dark, pressed between the thighs of a man I could barely see, but the feel of him alone sent shivers up my spine.
“I’ll take your silence to mean you want to skip the small talk.” He grabbed hold of my shoulders and shoved me down hard. I reached out to brace myself, my hands landing on rock hard thighs as my knees hit the carpet. “That’s better.”
You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.
“Suck me,” he ordered, leaning back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows.
I ran my trembling hands up his thighs until I found his belt. I slowly unbuckled it, my fingertips brushed the heated skin of his stomach. His ab muscles clenched under my touch and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. I shook out my trembling hands, trying to regain some control. When I reached for his zipper, I hesitated.
Desperate people.
Desperate things.
I steadied my hands as much as possible and slowly I dragged his zipper down. I closed my eyes in an effort to calm my erratic breathing, fearful that I was going to pass out and fall into his lap. I was hoping that closing my eyes was going to bring me some sort of comfort knowing I could remove myself from what I was about to do.
I’d just gotten his zipper down and was reaching into his jeans when his voice boomed over me like a cannon shot at close range. I jumped back in surprise, falling ass first onto the carpet.
“What the FUCK?” he roared. With my eyes closed, I hadn’t seen him turn on the side lamp, but when I looked up from the floor, I found myself staring into a beautiful pair of hate-filled green eyes, boring into me like I was the reason for everything wrong with the world.
Familiar eyes.
He pushed my hands away from his fly and grabbed me by the wrists. He stood and yanked me up to my feet, his hard chest pressed up against mine. “I walked in on you earlier, you were having sex with some girl.” I blurted, instantly regretting it. Fuck me and my speak-before-I-think disease.
His tight black wife-beater showcased the ripples of his impressive muscular frame. A myriad of colorful tattoos decorated one side of his neck, chest and shoulders, continuing all the way down both arms to the backs of his hands and knuckles. He wore bracelets that weren’t actually bracelets at all, but leather belts with metal studs wrapped around his wrists and forearms. Dark hair cropped close to his head, a black stud in each ear. A white scar through his right eyebrow. Stubble on his square jaw that was more than a few days past needing a shave.
I thought he was large when he was relentlessly pounding into the girl on the table. Even when he was only a shadow I knew he was big, but in all reality I’d had no concept of the wall of man who stood before me.
This guy didn’t look like he hung with the wrong crowd.
This guy was the wrong crowd.
“You?” he asked. His nostrils flaring as he glared down at me. I don’t know what I did to make him so angry, but getting a look at him in the light made me more fearful than I ever was of him in the dark, and I wished I’d just listened to my instincts earlier and ran when I had the chance.
“Obviously you don’t know shit because if you did you would know that what you saw wasn’t sex.”
“I know what I saw.” I argued.
“No, you don’t because you would know that I wasn’t having sex with her. I was fucking her.” The way he said the word fucking sent a flush of wetness into my panties.
You stupid girl. Your brain must really be damaged, because this is not someone who warrants that type of reaction. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“I’m no one,” I answered, truthfully. My heart ached at hearing the words spoken out loud from my own mouth.
“You’re no fucking biker whore,” he stated flatly. He cocked his head to the side as he stared down at me. Running over my features as if he were trying to figure me out. His gaze lingering on my lips, his tongue darted out to wet his own.
“You don’t know who I am.” I spat. I tried to take a step back but he held me firmly in place.
“No, but biker whores typically don’t tremble and practically hyperventilate when they’re about to suck cock.” He squeezed my wrists tightly and pain shot up my arms.
“Let me go!” I jerked my wrists unsuccessfully from his grip. I needed to get out of there, but he held me even tighter, forcing me backwards until the back of my head hit a wall.
“So you’re saying you do this all the time then? That you know what a guy like me wants? That you know how to suck and fuck like a pro?” He ran his index finger down the side of my cheek and I tried to ignore the heat that lingered in their wake. “You think you can take care of me, little pup? Fine. We can start back up right where we left off.” He guided one of my hands to the front of his pants and held my open palm to the bulging erection threatening to spring from his open jeans. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “Aren’t you going to show me how you can make me come?” he taunted, his words a warm whisper against my ear, although the words themselves were cold. Terrifying. I could hear my blood coursing through my veins as my heart beat faster and faster. “You already made me come once tonight.” I looked at him and furrowed my brows.
“That’s a lie. I barely touched you.”
“No, not now. When you saw me earlier, with that girl. You stood in the doorway and you watched us. Did you like what you saw? Did you like watching me come for you?”
“You give yourself way too much credit. I didn’t stay to watch you. I was just surprised. You were practically strangling her, why would I stay to watch that?”
He moved his hands to my throat and squeezed hard, leaving me with just enough airway so I could still breath. “You mean like this?” He asked, looking into my eyes as I tried to hide the terror alarms going off in my body. He was feeding off my fear.
“Fuck you,” I spat, mustering all the courage I could manage. He was toying with me, and I may have been afraid, but I was no fucking pushover.
“I know that you wanted to be that girl. You wanted it to be you who my cock was slamming into. I saw the way you looked at me and it made me explode. I see the way you look at me now and behind the fear you want me, maybe even because of it.”
“You’re wrong. That’s not how I’m looking at you.”
“No? Then tell me what you are really thinking when you look at me. Right now. What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”
“I was thinking about what a shame it was that good looks are wasted on someone like you.” He smiled out of the corner of his mouth and squeezed my throat tighter, leaning in so that his cheek was flush with mine and I could hear his words vibrate off my skin.
“How old are you, pup?”
“What the hell is it to you?” I seethed through gritted teeth.
“I just want to know if you’re illegal.” He pulled back and his gaze roamed over my body with one long slow sweep. He released my throat and pinned both my wrists above my head with one hand. He dipped a calloused finger into the low neckline of my tank top, slowly tracing the rounded flesh of my breasts. Goosebumps rose on the flesh of my arms.
I inhaled sharply.
“I’ve seen all the shit going on out there.” I said, tilting my head toward the door. “Like you really give a shit about illegal,” my breath shallow and quick.
“I don’t give a shit,” he said with a deep chuckle, “As a matter of fact, I’m hoping you are illegal.” He pressed his forearms against the wall on both sides of my head, caging me in with his massive frame, pressing his erection up against my stomach. “Cause I do illegal real fucking well.”