A MONTH passed since I saw the dark, brooding man who had been invading my dreams. His mocha-colored eyes pulled me in, forcing me to my knees. Night after night, I went to sleep trying hard not to think about him but his smirk with the tiny dimple in his cheek sent a flutter of desire through me. It had been four weeks since some shit head tried blowing up the clubhouse, and we were still no closer to finding out who it was. King’s Harlots laid low, but being a female MC, the spotlight glowed on us whether we liked it or not. It pissed me off how many times we had people showing up at our club, egging the shit out of it or spray painting words like cunt and whore on the brick walls. It hurt but it forced us to be stronger. We had our own issues, our own demons to deal with. It brought us together.
While Max fluttered around the gallery, stressing out because the art showing needed to be perfect, I stood off to the side. Watching. Waiting. I didn’t like not knowing what was going down. We had our brother club, Hell’s Harlem, in New York working their shit, trying to see if they could figure out what the hell was going on. But it wasn’t enough. I was twitchy. Standing around doing nothing sent an unnerving feeling through my gut. Thoughts traveled to a hard male—a strong body who could make me wet with just his words. One night with the guy would help me with this anxiety gripping my spine. My mouth watered, a hot shiver racing down the length of my back. Just thinking about him made me pant with need.
My phone rang, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah?”
A deep chuckle sounded from the other end. “Always so warm with your greetings.”
“Hi, Daddy,” I said, my heart swelling.
“Hi, Nugget. How’s my girl?”
I smiled at his nickname for me. Having the last name Gold, Nugget had stuck ever since I was born. Even his crew called me the childhood endearment. “Good.”
“Don’t lie to me. What’s wrong? Who do I have to kill? Are the girls okay?”
I barked a laugh, moving around the large room. People milled about, huddling together to talk about each painting. “You don’t have to kill anyone.” Not yet, at least. “Everyone is fine.” Leave it to my father to always be our savior. “We still can’t figure out what happened to the club.”
“You on a burner?”
“Yup.” I made a mental note of throwing the phone out once I left the gallery. We all had phones that we could toss and phones we kept. We weren’t into shady shit, not as a group, but I, on the other hand, would do anything to protect my sisters and let it be known that we were not women to be messed with.
“Good girl. You call Greyson?”
“Yes. He has his boys working on shit.” Greyson Mercer was the president of Hell’s Harlem. Being Brogan’s stepbrother, I knew he could be trusted.
“Good. Keep me posted,” my father demanded. Brian Gold was not one to be argued with.
We carried on a normal conversation for the next couple of minutes, no longer talking about MC business. I told him about Max’s gallery showing and set up a time to meet him soon for coffee.
We both said our goodbyes, and I hung up the phone, continuing to make my way around the vast room. The walls were lined with all things Max Stanton. That side of art was new to me. Give me a pencil and paper, and I could sketch the shit out of it. But painting? I couldn’t even paint a bowl of fruit. Everything Max painted came to life. They jumped off the canvas, gripping your soul and forcing you to see the beauty behind them. While her art covered canvas, mine covered skin.
Owning a tattoo shop across the street would allow me to see Max’s art whenever I needed to. It brought a serenity to my life I hadn’t felt in a long time. Each picture its own story, depicted in a different way each time it was gazed upon.
Leaning against the far wall, I watched her flow around the room. Greeting people, laughing, and shaking their hands like they had been friends for years. A twinge fluttered through my belly. Where she loved people, I would rather be by myself. I was socially inept, working much better one-on-one.
It was one thing I loved about her. Always sociable. Always friendly. I, on the other hand, hated everyone and refused to let anyone in. Reminded of that daily, it was hard not to believe it. My life revolved around the club, my sisters, everything that had nothing to do with giving up my heart. Yes, my girls had a piece of it, but it wasn’t enough.
My stomach twisted with unease, memories flooding my mind. Shaking it off, I stood in front of a painting entitled “Breathe”. It was black and white, two silhouettes holding each other, embracing the love they felt for the other. It screamed passion, punching you in the heart and took your breath. “Wow,” I whispered, staring in awe up at the large painting.
Everything Max touched turned into a masterpiece. She would no doubt be the next Van Gogh.
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck tingled. I was being watched.
Out of nowhere, he appeared. The hot as hell man. Sex-on-a-stick. A sinful addiction I craved. God, he was worse than anything I ever experienced. He was… Sin. The nickname for him made perfect sense.
His dark gaze pierced through mine. His short, jet-black hair shone in the dim lighting of the room. Scruff had grown in on his strong jaw. It had been a couple of weeks since I first met him. A couple of weeks since his deep voice rumbled straight to the spot between my legs. My tongue tingled, itching to have a taste. To feel the scruff of his beard rubbing against my thighs as I rode… Shit, Jay.
He was across the room, but I could feel him. His stare stripped me, revealing every dark and dirty secret. My skin burned. My heart raced. My cheeks heated, a flush spreading up my body.
His eyes roamed down the length of me, his tongue peeking out to lick along his full bottom lip.
My core quivered, clenching, ready and willing for the man I didn’t know. A man who could make me beg and leave me wanting and demanding more. What was wrong with me? No man had ever affected me that way.
Clearing my throat, I turned back around, unable to concentrate. Sin would be the death of me and my rules. On the other hand, he was everything I was hoping for. I knew it before he touched me. One word, one silent command, and I would be his ever-willing slave. To do with as he wanted, and I would enjoy every hour of it.
“Jay, that sexy as hell man is here, and I would bet my bike he wants to eat you alive,” Max said, coming up beside me and hooking her arm in mine.
He wanted to eat something all right. The warmth of desire spread over my skin. I coughed. “Yeah, well, until he tells me his name, he’s not eating anything.” I am a dirty girl.
“Try telling him that.” Max laughed. “The tension is crazy between you two. You have to rub that one out or else you’ll both explode.”
“I’m fine,” I mumbled, shivering.
“As if.” She pushed me playfully. “You’re fidgety, and you’ve been extra cranky. You need to get laid.”
I glared at her. “I do not.”
“Yes,” she insisted, “you do.”
“Please.” I rolled my eyes. “He couldn’t handle me.”
“Is that so, princess?”
I jumped, spinning on my heel at the deep rumble of the voice caressing my ear.
Sin grinned that hot-as-hell smile and took a step toward me. “I think I can handle every inch of you.”
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Max said, winking at me. “There’s a private room in the back. Just please make sure you clean up after.” She walked away, laughing and whistling to herself.
Bitch.
“Are you going to tell me your name?” I asked Sin as he stepped up beside me. The fabric of his black leather jacket brushed against my bare arm, sending a shiver down my spine. God, I loved a man in leather.
“When you’re ready.” He placed his hand at the small of my back, leading me around the room.
“I’m… I’m ready now.” My skin burned from his touch through the thin fabric of my dress. “Tell me.”
“Nope.
“What? Did you want me to beg for it?” As much as I would love to, the words would not leave my mouth until I had him in my hands. Images of me on my knees, begging, flowed into my mind. All I could picture was staring up at him, ready to take him in my mouth and—I cleared my throat. “I’m not begging.” Those words didn’t come out as sure as I would have liked.
He moved behind me, leaning down to my ear. His hot breath brushed along the back of my neck, the scent of mint wafting into my nostrils. “When you beg, it won’t be for my name, princess.”
“I’m not begging you for anything if you don’t tell me your name,” I raised my voice, elbowing him in the stomach.
He grunted.
I geared up to do it again when he grabbed my arm, digging his fingers into my bicep.
“You should know that I love it rough, Jay,” he growled in my ear. “The more you push me, the more you hit me, the harder I get.”
My body vibrated, the ache in my groin intensifying since meeting the man a month before. “What the hell do you want from me?”
“I want you to beg for it. I want you so wet that one thrust from my cock makes you explode. I know you want me, princess, just as much as I want you.”
Oh. Dear. God. As much as I wanted him, I already knew that he wouldn’t be just a one-night fuck. Being with him would go against my rules, and I refused to break them for him. My body battled it out with my brain. One part of me wanted him; the other part wanted to ignore him. It was a war of self-control that if he kept looking at me with those bedroom eyes and talking to me with that sex-filled voice, I was sure to lose. “Not going to happen,” I squeaked. Clearing my throat, I tried again in a firmer tone. “Not happening.”
I didn’t like the taste of those words as they left my mouth but I had to fight it. I. Have. To. Fight. It. I chanted those words to myself but the pleasure growing inside of me assured I wouldn’t be able to say no for long.
“Keep telling yourself that,” he purred, his hand moving to my hip.
“I will.” I stepped away from him and continued walking around the room. And of course, Sin followed me.
“Your friend is talented.”
I stopped in my tracks, narrowing my eyes. “She is.”
Sin crossed his arms under his broad chest, facing a painting on the wall. “Has she ever told you what they mean?”
“Um…no. But when I watch her paint, she’s always in her head like the picture is telling her a story.” Having a normal conversation with the guy was—my heart fluttered—nice. “She’s private.”
“I understand that. Artists are known to keep their talent to themselves.”
Unless you were a tattoo artist like me; then everyone knew. “Makes sense. She didn’t tell me for the longest time that she loves to paint or draw. She can sculpt, too.”
He whistled. “That’s some serious talent.”
“She grew up in a big family so everyone knew everything about everyone. She was lucky she was able to keep her art to herself for so long.”
“Why, Jay, are we having a civil conversation?” he teased.
“Jackass,” I mumbled, the corners of my lips twitching.
He chuckled, brushing his fingers through his hair.
“You’re not going to tell me your name, are you?” I watched his large hand mess up his hair in that sexy rocker way. His shaggy hair fell into his eyes. My fingers itched, begging to brush the strands off his forehead.
“Nope.” He winked. “Don’t even think about asking my boys.”
“Whatever.” My lips pressed into a firm line. “I’ll just call you what I call you in my head then,” I mumbled.
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”
A moment of hesitation fluttered through me, not realizing I had spoken out loud. Playing into it, I licked my lips and made a point of letting my gaze roam down the length of his body. “Sin.” And with that, I walked away, heading in the direction of the bathrooms.
Once I rounded the corner, I hightailed it down the hall. I could do this. I could control myself and not beg. I won’t beg. I refused to. I broke for no one. But my body wanted him. God, does it ever!
Pushing my way into the bathroom, I slammed the door closed and leaned against it. My heart raced against the walls of my rib cage. I took deep breaths, trying to ease the nerves pounding through my body.
I scrubbed a hand down my face when I was suddenly pushed forward. The door was shoved open, hitting hard against the wall with a bang. My head was tugged back, igniting a cry to leave my lips. The slight pain burned through my scalp.
When a lock clicked into place, I was thrown up against the cool concrete wall. A flutter of fear twisted at my gut.
Strong fingers wrapped around my throat, tilting my head back while my lower body was restrained against the wall. “Beg for it.”
Sin. “No.”
His other hand slid down the side of my body to cup my rear. His hips pushed into me, the erection in his pants indicating he wanted more from me. “No? Woman, do you know what I could do to this sweet body of yours?”
A sense of pride washed over me. I was wet. He was hard. It was perfect. “Show me.”
“Not until you beg,” he husked, brushing his nose up the length of my neck.
He was damn determined, I would give him that. I leaned my hands against the wall, moving my rear into him. “We could be here awhile,” I panted. “Because I am not begging.”
He gripped my hips, rocking, matching the movements of my body. “Your ass is fucking perfect.” His fingers gripped my flesh, kneading and bruising.
My breathing picked up.
Spinning me, he leaned his hands against the wall, caging me in. His hand wrapped around my throat, a wicked grin spreading on his face.
I glanced down at the large bulge in his pants. Licking my lips, I reached out for him.
He caught my wrist, holding my hands above my head in a firm grip. “Don’t think so, princess.” His mouth brushed down the line of my jaw. “I’m in control here, baby.”
“You think so, do you? I can see how much you want me; I think it’s you who will be begging first.”
With his free hand, he grazed it under my dress, reaching my thong-clad ass. “I won’t break.” He lifted my leg to his hip, grinding against me.
I moaned, the heavy weight between his legs coming into contact with my heat.
“Fuck, Jay, I can feel your fire…” He circled his hips against mine.
“Oh, God,” I whimpered, closing my eyes.
“Look at me,” he demanded, speeding up his hips.
Pleasure coiled in my belly, a tingle brewing up my body. “Please,” I blurted, craving the release he promised.
“I told you, you would beg.” He released me and stepped away.
Arousal burned, simmering to a dull roar, but the lack of being pushed over the edge made me see red. “You bastard.”
He chuckled. “I am in control. Not you.”
I was seething, waiting for him to leave. Just like everyone else in my fucking life.
“Frustrated, baby?” he teased. He closed the distance between us, standing an inch away.
I could feel him. Everything about him. His heat. His touch. His soul.
“I never thought I’d see you in a dress.”
“You’ve seen me once, and I’m wearing this shit for my best friend.” I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, easing some of the nerves racing through my body.
“Do you always listen to what she says?” His hand inched up beneath my dress, grazing my inner thigh before reaching the tiny triangle covering my mound.
“No. I don’t listen to anyone.” I bit back another moan. My best friend wanted me to act like a lady and not like a biker for her gallery showing. Right then, I wished I was wearing my leather pants.
“You may not listen to anyone, but your body sure as hell is.” His grip on my waist tightened while his other hand pushed the fabric of my dress to my hips.
Before I could protest—before I could shove him away—his finger pushed under my panties. His knuckle brushed over my soaked opening. His eyes locked with mine, searching, watching me. Waiting for me to break.
Heat spread over my skin, the ache between my legs growing with each stroke of his finger. “You won’t break me.”
Something flashed in his eyes when he released my wrists. In a quick move, he cupped my breasts, pulling the fabric lower. He licked his lips, his thumb grazing over the swell of my tits. “Fucking perfect.”
I smiled at the deep rumble of his words, enjoying the fact he was losing as much control as he was trying to take from me. It was a cat and mouse game. Predator and prey. I would wait a couple more minutes before I showed him just how in control I was.
That man—that beautiful, dark man who forced his way into my life would see that I wouldn’t submit to anyone. Especially not him.