I watched her little hand cover her mouth. Prisoner, huh?
Now, we were getting to some meat and bones. My arm went around her waist and I pulled her tight, slamming her into me, making me gasp 'til she met my eyes.
“Start talking. I knew he was sweeping something under the rug.”
“I can't,” she whispered, wiping the long, hot tear sliding down her cheek. “Please, just let me do my job. I shouldn't be telling you any of this. This is what you're here for, right?”
She jerked toward the nightstand, bending in my arms. A drawer popped open, revealing the biggest stash of condoms I'd ever seen.
Blood rushed to my dick. For a second, I seriously considered letting her gag on my cock if she didn't want to talk. Too bad I was born with a conscience, and all the violence and dirty deals in the MC hadn't beaten it outta me yet.
She turned gently, wearing a shaky smile, tearing at the foil with her teeth. My fingers darted out and I flicked the condom out of her grip. It hit the floor with a loud bounce.
Surprise shone in those perfect blue eyes. But it wasn't half of what I saw a second later, when I picked her up and moved her across the room, flattening her against the nearest wall. She gasped, so sharp and sudden I wanted to hear it a hundred more times, preferably naked and moaning.
“What do you want? I thought you'd rather have me on my knees,” she sputtered, shock crinkling her face.
“I want you to sing. I'm not here to fuck. My brothers and I hit this dump to see what Ricky's been up to, and you're the first interesting thing I've found. Who are you? Really?”
She cracked. I loosened my grip as more hot tears fell down her face. I ran my fingers through her chestnut hair, noticeably cleaner and softer than the other girls I'd seen. They couldn't compare.
“Megan Willow Wilder,” she hissed, soft and harsh in my ear.
“The fuck?” That was a fancy name for a place where the girls were supposed to have stupid names like Honey, Cherry Anne, or Fresh.
She shook her head, tightening her face like she couldn't believe I'd never heard the name.
“Spill it, babe,” I growled. “You're not supposed to be here, and I need to know why.”
“I was kidnapped. He drugged me, brought me here, chained me up. Ricky pimps me out to cover my upkeep, but he really wants to find me a buyer for bigger bucks. I'm a virgin.”
I had to catch another laugh tearing at my throat. No fucking way.
Did she really expect me to believe this? A virgin in a trucker spa, sucking off guys and wearing a kink chain? For all I knew, she was Ricky's favorite, the pimp's personal slut that he used to unwind after a long day of work. Some of the bastards had them, after all.
“I'm Eric and Judy Wilder's daughter. Look them up, please.” She sounded desperate. Probably noticed the skepticism lining my smirk. “You have to believe me. We're rich, my dad owns three businesses all over the state, just do a search and you'll see. You have to get me out of here, Skin. Please. Get me out, before Ricky gets what he wants. I don't want to die a fucking slave!”
That did it. My fingers smoothed their way through her hair, and then I pulled it tight. I forced her to look at me through the tears.
I had an incredible ear for bullshit. Always had.
This chick's story sounded like a drugged out fairy tale, but damn if she didn't put up a good act. “It's not too late, Skin. Take me with you. I'll do anything to get out of here.”
Her tongue flicked across her lips. Her small, soft hands pushed against my chest. Those palms traveled downward, and I saw lightning in her eyes when she moved them over my abs.
My cock screamed, begging me to take her, to do the one crazy thing I couldn't. Not today, anyway.
Not after the shit she'd just told me. I wasn't gonna fuck an honest-to-God slave, no matter how hot she looked in that cheap getup. Not unless she surrendered willingly with nothing more than unbridled lust.
No bullshit. No quid pro quo. No bargaining.
Fuck. I grabbed both her wrists and pushed her away, putting some sorely needed space between us.
A man can't think rationally when he's been without a woman this long. Especially a man who's used to getting what he wants, fucking women with ease, feeling them fall all over him just because he's got the right patch and a hard, inked body underneath it.
“I can't do it,” I growled, eyeing the disappointment in her face. “There's no way to know you're not putting up a smokescreen 'til I check you out. I get it, I asked, but what the fuck do you think I'm supposed to do with a question like that? Throw you on the back of my bike and ride off into the sunset after I shoot the pimp in the gut and leave him here to bleed like a stuck fuckin' pig?”