The fabric presses against my pussy, and a second later it’s gone. He clips the knife back in its holder and skims his hand down my side and to my hip. “You are one stupid bitch,” he says. Gripping my hip with enough force to leave a bruise, he closes his eyes and rests his forehead atop my head. His warm breath washes down over my face. Every minute or so, he gives both my hip and my wrists a squeeze. When he loosens his grip he finally lifts his head and opens his eyes. His free hand travels from my hip down the line of my jeans, tracing the star tattoos on my lower belly. With his index, middle, and ring finger, he slides into my jeans, curves up, and slams himself into me. Shock from the movement causes me to tighten around him and freeze up.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says with a gravelly voice. “But remember who I am. I am Forsaken. I’ve killed men for less—tortured them because I can.” My lungs stop for a moment and, when they resume, all I can force out are breathy pants. I don’t want to enjoy this—any of this—but I do.
“Pushing me is not wise, Nicole. If I have to scare you to shut you up, I will. But I won’t ever hurt you,” he says, his voice falling to a whisper. “Don’t complicate shit, chill out, and understand this—I want you as my woman. That means you represent me and I’m responsible for you. I let you pull that shit again, and my brothers will start questioning whether or not I can handle the shit I gotta do for this club if I can’t even handle my woman. Do you understand that?”
“Two months,” I say very slowly so he can understand, because obviously he’s really fucking slow.
“Do you understand what I’m telling you?” he says, pulling his fingers out and shoving them back in again. He hits a sweet spot, and my mouth hangs open, my eyes drift to the back of my head, and I clamp down on him tight.
“Two months,” I repeat trying to sound like a hard ass, but it comes out as a whimper. “Do you understand that?”
“You my woman?” he asks as his thumb finds my clit. I let out a loud moan and let my head fall back against the brick. I don’t respond. He doesn’t deserve a response. He’s a childish prick who always has to have the last word. Now that he’s put the knife away, I can breathe a little easier, knowing that he isn’t going to hurt me. My dad can’t ride, so he can’t vote, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t family. Carving up a member’s kid is bad news, and I don’t think Duke would bring that on himself. But then, I also didn’t think he’d push me into a wall and pull a knife on me, either.
“You pulled a knife on me,” I hiss, but it’s cut off by the pressure that’s building in my muscles, screaming its way through my bones and heating my bloodstream.
“I won’t hurt you, I told you that,” he grits out as he continues his ministrations. “I won’t ever hurt you.” Leaning down, my smashes his lips to mine. I don’t even attempt to fight it. Greedily, I suck his bottom lip in between mine and give it a quick bite. His eyes blaze when he pulls back, and then he’s on me again. Our tongues slide against one another in a fight of dominance. When we pull apart, neither of us can breathe.
“Let me go,” I say. He shakes his head and curls his fingers inside my pussy. Everything blurs and disappears for half a second before I can stop myself from splintering in a million little pieces.
“You’ll run,” he says hoarsely. I shake my head and buck my hips into his hand.
“No, I just want your cock,” I say. I clamp down on his hand and let my body slip toward the floor. After a beat, he lets go of my wrists and wraps his arm around my waist as we sink to the floor together. He doesn’t remove his fingers as he slowly guides me to my back. My wrists ache where he’d held me in place, but I can barely feel it. Lying down beside me, he continues to pump in and out of my pussy. I’m so slick and needy that I worry I’ll lose control before I get him inside me.
His eyes travel up to the table above my head, and his fingers still. It’s but a few seconds before I start to lose the high he’s been building in my gut. Impatiently, I yank my jeans down and kick them off then get to work on his belt. His eyes are still focused elsewhere, but I’m not having it. He can be in control everywhere else, but right now, he’s mine and this is my show.
Grabbing his face, I pull him down to my lips and drag my tongue against them. Instantly, his legs are shimmying out of his jeans, with a little help from me as I reach up with my feet and drag them to his ankles. A mass of frenzied flesh, and I’m clamping my legs together to keep the sweet pounding from dissipating. He pulls back to say something, but I pull him in again and wrap my legs around his waist. With one hand, he shoves his boxers down and guides himself hard and fast into my core. My back arches, and goose flesh breaks out all over my body. He hooks his hands over my shoulders from behind and drives into me again and again until I drift off into a sea of nothingness where my body pounds and aches and then fractures—not once, and not even twice, but three times—until he’s curled into me and his lips are at my neck. With a satisfied grunt, he kisses my neck and sucks at the flesh, marking me for everybody to see who I belong to.