“Already taken care of.” Skin folded his arms. “I went through the place and handed them their pink slips personally before I went to the pimp's house. His ratty little book keeper will find 'em, or else the girls will sober up in the morning. I gave all of 'em a shelter in Knoxville, not too far away, where they can go to get clean.”
No fucking way. Smiling, I shook my head, scared I'd break down and start crying all over again.
“What? Don't tell me you're having regrets.”
“No, Skin, you just really thought of everything. I'm impressed.” I leaned forward and grabbed his hand.
He didn't pull it away as I moved it to my face. I took my time just holding it there, savoring his warmth, his energy, the raw power in the fingers that had held the gun when he blew Ricky's evil brains out.
“Something like that,” he whispered, his face darkening. “He wasn't bullshitting me when he talked about the Deads before I ended him. But those fuckers were gonna come after us anyway. Killing the pimp won't change that, it'll just give them something else to dig into, maybe buy us a little more time.”
I looked at him for a second before I jerked my head away. It was too hard to hide the worry. I didn't want to get caught in the middle of a raging war between outlaw motorcycle clubs. But I couldn't ask him to put me ahead of himself, or ahead of this group he'd sworn an oath to.
My eyes ran across his patches, and the dark inks on his arms. Tiger stripes and swords mingled, skulls and tiny cards stamped in black. The canvass hiding the complicated man underneath was just as complex, a mesh of death and courage, blended together to the point where the two were nearly indistinguishable.
“Get some sleep and don't worry about any of this shit, Meg. I'll keep you safe, and so will the rest of the club. You're going home soon, babe.”
“I need to thank you,” I purred, my eyes inevitably dropping to the ridge where his legs met.
He tensed up when I put my hand on his fly. Skin's dark, handsome eyes followed me as I got in front of him and sunk down to my knees, ready to take another man's cock deep into my mouth.
Except this time it was a man I wanted. And I wanted to please him like nothing else, to make him lose control and show me everything underneath the surface. I had to strip him down the same way he'd done to me, if only to share souls with a stranger for one beautiful night.
“Babe, what the hell do you think you're doing?” he rumbled, fisting my hair as I unzipped his fly, reaching in for his cock.
“What do you think?” I actually smiled after I said it, something I hadn't done with a man since I'd fooled around with the rich boy and popular jocks in college. It felt like a lifetime ago.
“Megan...wait. You shouldn't.” He pulled my hair so tight my hand stopped on his boxers, one pull away from grasping the huge, hot, rock hard length underneath. “I don't need any goddamned favors for saving your life.”
“It's not a quid pro quo, Skin. Don't worry about that. I'm not the screwed up little girl you think. I have desires...needs.”
Crap. That last word hissed out of my mouth so sharp it caused me to tremble. My fingers instinctively tightened on his cock, wondering what it would feel like to draw him deep inside my mouth, inside my body.
My * tingled, wet and alive in a way it hadn't been for at least a year. Not even Crawford or the other boy toys I'd had made me burn like this.
They hadn't killed for me. They hadn't warped life and death. They hadn't mastered hell and carried me through it. And they absolutely didn't have a single thing on this giant warrior in front of me, this man who'd carved his glorious body by fucking and fighting instead of lifting weights.
He was stronger than anyone I'd ever felt, and it wasn't just because he'd saved me. Some of the truckers Ricky brought in to use me were huge, but they weren't as dynamic, as strong, as masculine as this perfect beast I wanted for the night.
One night wasn't a sin. One night with him wouldn't ruin me – on the contrary, it might bring me back to life.
“It's too early for this shit. You shouldn't even think about it 'til you go home and talk to somebody. Get some help. Get your head screwed on straight.”
I looked him right in the eye and ran my tongue across my lips. His words told a different story than the hunger in his eyes. He wanted me, and for the first time in months, I remembered how amazing it was to be wanted.
“Come on. Don't be shy. You're not going to stop me if I pull this out and give it a little kiss, are you? I swear I'm really good at it. I'm clean. I'll make you feel so fucking good, Skin, if you'll just make me feel human again tonight.” I swallowed, fighting the lump of angst and regret in my throat. “It's been so long...I haven't wanted a man until you. This isn't about repaying you for anything. This is about what I want, and I know it's the same thing you do too. Can't we just enjoy each other for one short night?”
He grunted, as if considering my words. Hell with it.