JACK
I wake up in a state of agitation. The sheets cling to my skin, drenched with sweat. Heart-pounding dread. The cold, clammy feeling follows me as I rip off the sheets and stand from the bed. I run fingers through my damp hair. What’s missing?
I tear through drawer after drawer, throwing their contents on the floor. My feet slip on pairs of boxers. What am I looking for? I don’t know. The irrevocable sense of loss yawns inside me. It has to be here somewhere.
It’s oddly bright. Everything has a blue sort of haze. I stride into the kitchen, feeling a swell of disappointment as I open cabinet doors. The fridge holds nothing of interest, and I slam it shut.
Blood careens through my veins. I dive to the couch and fling the cushions aside. I don’t know how to explain it. Something’s gone. Something dear to me.
“Where are you?”
My fingers tear through the fabric, and my throat starts to close.
“Where the fuck are you?”
I straighten, my limbs shaking as I look around the deserted apartment. The chill moves up my chest, seeping inside, moving its icy tendrils around my heart. I can’t find him. I can’t—
I’m in a parking lot. Dark shadows shift in front of me, their forms obliterated by the bright white behind them. Then an arm suddenly slides across my neck and chokes off my air. I tug at his arm, but I’m so goddamn weak. Then the shadowy form in front of me steps forward, and I recognize John’s face as blackness creeps around the edge of my vision.
“Too close, Jack.”
The cold voice settles in my chest like ice. My fingernails drag in his tough skin as a smile lifts the corner of John’s mouth. The man’s arm crushes my windpipe and I fall down, my lungs burning. My face kisses the concrete and then suddenly air returns to my lungs.
What the fuck?
I pull back and feel wetness on my lips. A woman’s mouth. I’m lying on soft sheets, and there’s a naked blonde underneath me. Beatrice searches me with her deep-blue eyes and runs her fingers though my hair. I sink down and kiss the dusting of freckles right under her eye. My cock twitches when she wraps her arms around me, and I nuzzle her neck, feeling her stomach jump as I kiss her.
“Jack.”
Something pierces through my back. I feel the sharp edges digging through my muscles and tearing sinew as I collapse over her body. Her arm strains, and the object rips out of my back. The fucking pain. That innocent smile plays on her lips as I roll off her. She straddles my hips and lifts the blade dripping with blood in her hands. Still wearing the same smile, she plunges down—
My eyes snap open to a blank ceiling, and a surge of energy hits me square in the chest. I gasp out loud, heart still galloping ahead. I sit bolt upright as the sheets stick to my skin.
What the fuck was that?
I wipe the sweat from my brow as my body radiates with lingering phantom pain. The sheets whip around my legs as I tear them off and stand upright, walking through the door of my bedroom—Mike’s old room—and into the kitchen. The bottle of scotch in the kitchen cabinet burns in my head. My mouth waters. I want it so fucking badly that I can feel the richness rolling on my tongue. My legs move of their own accord. I see myself opening the cabinet door, grabbing the bottle, and slamming a glass on the table. It’s then that I notice the wedding band.
Jesus Christ. I totally forgot.
I’m married to a biker bitch.
I forget the bottle of scotch and stride to the guest bedroom. My hand grasps the door handle and I turn—fuck, it’s locked. A crazed, leaping feeling makes me hammer the door. She could be doing anything in there. Then I crash my shoulder against the door and splinters of wood fly everywhere. The dream fills my head with venom. I don’t trust the bitch—I’m going to put her in her fucking place.
The door swings wide open and I see Beatrice backed up against the headboard, her hair mussed around her head and her blue eyes wide.
I approach the bed, watching how the t-shirt she’s wearing rides up her thighs. A sliver of pink panties through her locked legs makes my cock twitch.
“Rule number fucking one. No locked doors while you’re in this house.”
She clutches her chest. I can see her heart fluttering the white t-shirt she’s wearing and the soft outline of her tits, her nipples gently peaking the fabric. Then I remember the promise I made to use her body as long as she was mine as blood pounds in my head.
“You could have knocked.”
“I don’t trust you, sweetheart.”
The mattress squeaks as I sit down beside her. There’s really nothing stopping me from ripping that t-shirt from her body. It’s one of mine. I realize that with a sudden, hot thrill that leads straight to my cock.
“What exactly do you think I’m going to do to you?”
“Stab me in my sleep with the switchblade you stuck in your wedding dress?”
She drains of color and her mouth hangs open, apparently struck dumb. “M-my dad gave it to me. I would’ve never—”
“Go ahead and try it. I’d enjoy tying up your arms to my bedpost and leaving you there until I’ve had my fill of pussy.”
“Jack, I would never do anything—”
“Second. If you fuck me over, I’ll fuck you. Then I’ll throw you out like a used condom.”
She flinches at the heat in my voice, her skin the color of a pale rose. “Okay.”
“Third rule. Don’t touch my shit. If I catch you nosing through my belongings, I spank your bare ass until it glows bright red. Understand?”
I love how she sits up straight backed and nods at me like a good little girl. I cup her face with one hand, and she lets out a sigh.
“Good wives obey their husbands,” I say, fighting to keep the laughter out of my voice. “I need obedience from you.”
Her eyes flash and her voice carries a hint of defiance. “I thought you didn’t want a wife.”
I rake my fingers up her neck and fist her hair, yanking so that her neck arches over my wrist. Fuck, it’s hot. I can see her hard nipples poking the white t-shirt. She lets out a painful hiss.
“Ow!”
“If you’re going to give me a smart mouth, I’ll put you in your place. I have no problem doing this in public.”
She flushes violently. “No, please don’t!”
I want to laugh at how terrified she looks. Damn, maybe this won’t be too bad. I palm her stomach, slipping my hand under her t-shirt. She lets out a breath. My hand sweeps up her abdomen until I grab ahold of one of her nice tits, squeezing her nipple with my thumb and forefinger. A moan shakes from her throat that sends blood rushing to my cock.
I bend my lips to her ear, loving how she shivers when she hears my voice. “Next rule. No panties in the house. Take them off now.”
Beatrice turns her head, her mouth parted. She wants me to kiss her. I want to. I want to bite her fucking lip, especially when she looks at me with that leaden expression.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Without a second’s hesitation she hooks her fingers under her panties and slides them down her ass. She rolls them from her hips and I see the sheen of juice over her pussy. The panties scrape against her long legs until finally they pool around her feet. I lift them up and ball her panties in my hand, throwing them across the room.
Beatrice clings to the bars on the headboard, knees firmly held together as her fingers curl around the metal. The shadow of her tits moves behind the shirt, sending another jolt to my cock. I grab her waist and slip my hands underneath her shirt, lifting it over those beautiful, perky tits. She tilts back her head as I pull it over her. Then her silky hair falls over her shoulders like beaten gold. Beatrice looks as fragile as the night I met her.
I take her by the throat and set her down on the bed, her hair spilling around her like a halo. My cock strains against my pants, throbbing so hard that I grind my teeth together to ignore it. She sucks in her lip and bites it. Fucking hot.
Slowly I tug down my briefs, releasing my length from the tight fabric. I grab the base of my cock and pump it a few times. Pre-cum dribbles out of the tip to slide down. She watches me with unmistakable greed.
“You just love taking orders, don’t you?”
She’s like a red traffic light, burning on cue. My thumb strokes her neck and she opens her mouth, apparently speechless.
“You don’t care about what I love.”
She turns her head to the side and pretends as though her cunt isn’t dripping and her heart isn’t racing from being so close to me. I take her legs and force them apart, revealing her glistening pussy.
“You’re right. I don’t.”
I’ve never felt her bare pussy on my cock, and I decide that I want to make her suffer for talking back. So I slide between her legs and touch the tip of my head against her wet cunt. I grunt as I feel the warmth sliding around my head, suppressing the urge to dive in and surround my cock with tight pussy. She lifts her head and shudders with a small moan. Then I slide my cock up, massaging her swollen nub. I grab her thighs and slowly inch my way between her legs. My fingers glide up and make an arc inside her. She makes a high sound that turns me on—it’s like a stroke to my dick.
“I’m not going to allow you to come anymore. Not without my permission. That’s the last rule.”
She arches her back, her muscles clenching hard around my fingers as I slide them out. I grab myself and move between her lips, stroking that sensitive clit as gently as possible.
“But I can’t control it!”
“You will, or you’ll be punished.”
Her thighs tremble as I insert two fingers back into her warmth as I tease her with my cock. With my other hand I stroke myself. I fist my cock, feeding the pressure building behind my balls. Her breaths become labored, hitching into a high groan. She bucks against my hand and I feel like I’m going a little crazy, too. Her wetness is all over me and all I’d have to do is move my cock a few centimeters down.
“Can I come?”
“No.”
I fight a smile as her face twists with agony and bury my three fingers deep in her cunt, rubbing her nub hard. All I have to do is watch her tits spilling over her chest and that beautiful pussy open for me, just waiting for a nice, thick cock. Flaming heat licks my balls, my hand making friction with my dick. The ache intensifies with every desperate look thrown my way. When her soft moans hit my ears, a surge of energy runs down my length. My hand moves up and down my throbbing cock, faster and faster. Then my balls tighten and move up, the pressure finally releasing like the blast of a gun. Thick ropes of cum shoot out, draping over her tits. I pump furiously as ecstasy washes over me, still fucking her with my other hand. More jets of cum fly out, sticking to her pearly-white skin. Good fucking God, it’s incredibly hot. I keep fisting my cock until every drop of lands on her.
She turns toward me, flushed, waiting for my approval. A sick part of me loves how easily she submits to me. She was probably born and bred for this. I can only imagine the bullshit they must have taught her at the MC—obey your father and stay pure. Girls with pure vaginas go to heaven. I wonder how much pussy I sent to hell with my dick.
“You can come now.”
My cock is still hard, so I aim my head right behind her swollen pussy and I shove through, pinching her clit. Beatrice cries out and comes hard on my dick. I grab the back of her head and claim her sweet mouth. She kisses me back, pausing to moan in my mouth. I ride the wave of both our orgasms until my eyes feel heavy.
She sprawls out underneath me as redness pricks across her skin. I take the balled-up t-shirt and wipe the cum from her body and then I move to get up from the bed, but she tugs at my arm. The haunted look from her pure blue eyes stops me. Her fingers are surprisingly strong around my arm. She wants me to stay—to fucking cuddle.
For a moment I consider shutting her ass down, but her eyes tug at me. I roll back into bed with a sigh and I wrap an arm around her shoulders, curling her body into my chest. It feels good to have her weight against me, so much that I close my eyes and feel myself drifting off.
“Jack?”
“Hm?”
“What do I get out of this?”
I open my eyes, smiling as I catch her gaze. “You get me.”
A shadow falls over her eyes and I feel a small knife in my chest.
“But it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Do you think Johnny would insist on a traditional wedding if it didn’t mean something? You’re wearing my ring. You’re living in my house.”
“Only until this investigation is over.”
“Which will take years.”
It’s like a hammer dropping on an anvil, loud and harsh. I try thinking of years of this: bitter resentment, fights, and frequent, hot sex.
Her body moves in my arms and suddenly I’m face-to-face with her. Her eyes are so blue.
“What am I, Jack? Am I some girl you get to fuck whenever you want? Am I a biker bitch?”
You’re my wife, I think automatically, but the words fail to sink in. She’s still one of them. No matter how many goddamn times I fuck her, she still belongs to that fucking rat-bastard MC. But I can’t summon up the rage when I look at her.
I slide my arm from her and tear my gaze away as I walk out of the bedroom.
“I don’t know what the hell you are.”
* * *
“So you decided to get married—just like that?”
Detective Asshat is not buying our bullshit. He leans over the table with his suspenders and his wire-rimmed glasses, looking too fucking serious for his own job.
Beatrice sits in my lap, positively glowing as I wrap my arms around her waist and give her a kiss on the side of her head.
“Yeah. True love knows no bounds, and all that shit.”
Her nails dig into my neck.
“Excuse me?”
The other one, Detective Fatass, slams his meaty fist on the table, making Beatrice gasp.
“Stop fucking around, you piece of shit. We know you were at the Trudeau airport, along with Johnny Cravotta and his crew.”
“I’d appreciate it if you stopped scaring my wife.”
Beatrice turns her head to look straight at Detective Fatass. “He was with me that night.”
“What were you doing for five hours?”
“Fucking.”
Beatrice sends me an appropriately scandalized look, which I wave off.
“For five hours?”
“You sound surprised. Is your stamina not up to snuff?”
Fattass’s face deepens to an ugly puce color. “You’re telling me that you were having sexual intercourse with this woman for five hours straight?”
“I took a few fifteen minute breaks because her pussy was getting sore.”
The look of pure rage might not be entirely feigned on her part.
I smile right in the face of those jerk-offs.
“We’ve given our statements. Can we go now?”
Her nails dig hard into my skin and I smooth my hand over her belly, giving her a small pinch.
Yeah, see how you like it.
“Yes.”
The two detectives look like they’ve been denied a great treat, and Beatrice slides off my lap. She walks away from me and gives me a look filled with poison behind the two cops’ backs.
“I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but it hasn’t.”
I sweep past the two cops and palm open the door. Well, that was easy, wasn’t it? A bubble of unease swells inside my stomach. Sure, I got off lucky, but that doesn’t mean I’m off their radar. One screwup and they’ll find a reason to make an arrest. It only takes one filthy rat to bury me, and the MC is full of them.
I wrap my arm around Beatrice’s small waist, hating how my blood pounds when she stops in the middle of the hallway and turns in my arms with a scorching gaze. She grabs the scruff of my neck and brings me closer, wearing a cute smile. Her lips crush mine as she pushes my back into the wall. Heat floods my veins as her tongue flicks inside my mouth, teasing me.
What the fuck is she doing?
We’re in the middle of the police station, and she’s shoving her tongue down my throat. Not that I mind, but it’s a little weird even for me.
But I stop worrying about that when I feel her curves pressing into my body. God, I want her. I kiss her back, my arms wrapped around her because I want to touch every inch of what belongs to me. Beatrice pulls away, smiling, her eyes heavily lidded.
“I love you, baby.”
She makes a trail with her fingers up my chest as I recover from what feels like a heavy book thrown in my face. Has she lost her mind?
“Uh—what?”
A triumphant snort from a man brushing past us in the hall averts my attention. Detective Fatass sneers at me with a side glance, and I turn back to Beatrice, her smile strained.
“I love you, too. Let’s go.”
Nothing ever sounded so forced. Beatrice cringes at my tone, her eyebrows narrowing before she gives a bizarre laugh and kisses my cheek.
I grab her upper arm and lead her down the hall, and it’s only once until we’re outside and well out of sight that she rounds on me, shoving my chest.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
I don’t like the way she looks at me. I take a step back and brush my jacket, pretending to be cool when I feel hot.
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“You’re treating this like a fucking joke. ‘Love knows no bounds, and all that shit’? Are you crazy?”
“Give me a break. They already know we’re full of it.”
She rolls her eyes. “After that performance, yeah.”
“What, am I supposed to fawn over you like some lovesick moron?”
Her stony gaze meets mine, and I feel a ripple of anger from the contempt burning in her eyes.
“Do you want to go to jail?”
I don’t have time for this. “Get in the fucking car.”
The car door swings open in my hand and I watch her duck her head as she slides into the passenger seat. I slam the door shut and the car trembles with the force. My hands clench over the edge of the hood and the window as rage boils my insides.
Calm the fuck down.
I get into my car and we drive out of there in complete silence. I’m afraid of the mood I’m in. Lately I’ve been in towering rages only tempered by drugs and booze. Johnny made me quit the drugs, but I couldn’t stop drinking. It’s the only thing that helps.
I roll up to the curb in front of my house, but I don’t cut the engine.
“I’m going out. I’ll be back later.”
Blue eyes cut at me as she turns her head and presses her lips together. Beatrice knows that I have a week off work. There’s a splinter of pain in her eyes that almost immediately glosses over into what she tries to pass off as indifference.
“Whatever.”
Yeah, whatever.
* * *
The drinks keep coming, and I slam them down like I’m dying of thirst. It’ll take a few hours before I’m okay to drive home, but I’m fine with that. Anything to avoid being in the same room with my wife. The wife I keep fantasizing about: her naked curves in my hands, the way her pussy wraps around my dick, her lips, her tits—everything. I’m not supposed to want her; I’m supposed to hate her.
A hand slaps down on my shoulder. “How’s the marriage?”
Johnny slides on the stool next to me, and I choke down my bitterness.
He’s the boss. He’s the boss.
“Pretty shitty so far.”
His hand casually grips the back of my neck, and he gives me that fake smile that always precludes pain.
“Come with me. I want to talk to you.”
I slide off the stool and follow John’s strong grip into the back rooms of Tommy’s bar. He drops the smile the moment we’re alone.
“What the fuck are you doing in this bar?”
“I can’t have a drink without your permission?”
He grits his teeth. “You’re supposed to be spending this time with your new wife. That’s why I gave you a week off.”
Why don’t you fucking lay off me, you prick?
“Ignoring her like this the day after your wedding is an insult to the MC—and an insult to me.”
Violent images stream through my brain, interrupting the voices screaming at me. Do not piss off John. He’ll get rid of you, just like he got rid of your brother.
“I need this marriage to work. You will not screw this up and cost me this alliance.”
“You spit on the memory of my brother, and I’m supposed to be grateful?”
Fuck you.
Johnny’s irate face swims closer. “You better be really fucking careful how you talk to me, or you’re going to wind up just like him.”
“Jack!”
A familiar voice barks at me. Recognizing Sal is the only thing that stops me from lunging at Johnny’s throat. Thankfully the asshole turns around and walks out of the back room.
“Come here, damn it.”
Sal is a beefy guy with a round, honest face. His dark-blue blazer hangs over his belly, and he pats the table where he’s sitting, gesturing at me to sit down. He’s a friendly guy, but he’s still the underboss. Just one rank removed from boss.
“Sit down, Jack.”
I’m still pissed off, but he gives me a look that’s enough to shut down my smart mouth. Heaving a sigh, I pull back the chair and sit my ass down.
He reaches across the table, concern knitting his face as he grabs my hand. Usually I don’t like being touched. When my brother died, every pat on the back felt fake. I look at these people—these men who are supposed to be my brothers—and I wonder which one of them did it, if the family was responsible. Which one killed him?
“I’m worried about you.”
A smile tugs at my mouth. “Is that right?”
“The way you talk to the boss is going to get you clipped.”
I know that. I’m probably one more fucking sentence from getting a bullet to the back of my head.
“I can’t fucking do it anymore. I can’t pretend like my brother isn’t dead.”
“No one’s forgotten.”
“He has. That son of a bitch. You know damn well he had something to do with it.”
Sal gives me a warning look. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“You know I’m right.”
“I don’t. He was worried your brother would flip, but he would never do anything like that without proof.”
Lead settles into my guts and I ball my fist under Sal’s hand.
Oh Jesus Christ.
He did it, didn’t he? It’s confirmation for me. He did it. He was afraid my brother would talk. What about what the nurse said? A man in a suit. Thin face. Someone from the mob commissioned this hit, but I can’t find a shred of fucking proof. The man at the top makes all the decisions. It’s him.
That sick, helpless feeling consumes me again. How the fuck am I supposed to kill a boss? I’ll be honest. Things like this happen to people’s families. Guys fuck up. They get killed. It happens all the time and we’re just supposed to swallow down our pride and accept it.
I can’t accept it.
“Jack, I know that look on your face.”
I pull my hand away from his, my brother’s loss hitting me hard like a knife to my gut.
“When both of our parents died, he was the one who raised me. I was eight and he was a teenager.”
“Yeah, you’ve told me.”
“He dropped out of school to take care of me.”
It’s odd how little I remember of my parents. It was just Mike for a long time.
Memories of my older brother cycle through my head. He was always so goddamn tall. I see him in slacks and suspenders, rolling up a paper bag lunch. He hands the bag to me with a wink. “Here, kid. Learn something.”
My chest feels like it’s caving in. I miss him. He was always the faster one, the smarter one, even when we were both adults. Mike was better than me with a gun, got more girls than I did, and everyone loved him. He was more than just a brother or father. He was a god. I worshipped him.
Seeing him like that on the hospital bed, his spirit completely broken, was like watching him die. There was no twinkle in his eyes—no wisecrack—just listlessness. Waiting for death.
Fuck.
“I know you loved your brother, but you’re no good to him dead.”
Sal’s fucking right.
“I know, but what am I supposed to do?” I hate how my voice cracks. “What would Mike do?”
Then his voice drops to a low growl. “Mike would have bided his time until the opportunity came to hit back at those assholes.”
“You don’t think this is going to last, do you? This alliance?”
“Somebody’s going to talk. Johnny can’t get to all the witnesses.”
Fuck.
“Sooner rather than later.”
“And then?”
“Then you go to jail when your wife rats you out, and we’re back to where we fucking started, at war with the Devils MC while this investigation kills this family.”
A cold feeling spreads down my limbs. How long would it take Johnny to decide to get rid of me while I’m in prison? I have no more leads to follow now that I’ve whacked the nurse. I can’t very well start interrogating people in our crew.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Sal talks in a voice low enough so that I have to strain my ears to listen.
“Get on his good side. There’s a job Johnny wants done by the end of the week. If you want to do it, let me know.”
“All right. Send me the details.”
The chair scrapes back as I stand up from the table. Fuck, my nerves are all jangled from this. I hate feeling jumpy, but if Sal’s right then I have to be proactive. I walk to his side and bend over, embracing him.
“Thanks, Sal. I don’t know what I’d do without you looking out for me.”
He pats me on the back. “I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself, Jack.”
“No, trust me. I’m on it.”
I should have never let myself go like this. There’s too much at stake, and I don’t want to die. My brother’s dead, but that doesn’t mean I have to join him. Not when there’s a chance to get back at the people who destroyed him.
The car’s engine vibrates beneath my feet as I drive back to my place, everything that Sal said running through my brain like fire. I’m still untangling all the strings.
Bide your time.
Until what?
Until you can make a move on John, or the bikers, or both.
I listen to that steely voice inside me. Sal all but confirmed that John was the one behind his murder. And what if he’s right? Someone will talk and the alliance will crumble, and I’ll have this wife as a fucking liability that no one will trust.
Fuck the girl. Make her yours. Take her from them.
Yes.
Make her part of your family.
The list of my family is pretty fucking small. It’s just me, aside from a handful of aunts and uncles on my mother’s side who I’ve never met.
The voice inside me laughs.
I can’t figure it out, and blood churns through my head as I drive home. Like it or not, that biker wife of mine is my ticket back into Johnny’s good graces.
I’m after revenge. It’s time to be smart about it, and that means making nice with the girl, bringing her along to all of the family events, and showing everyone else that I can make my biker wife toe the line.
As I roll up to my place I see something that’s like a gunshot to my chest. Something that burns inside me like acid.
A man wearing a leather cut jacket. He’s standing at my door, peering inside the window.
All of a sudden the sound turns off. I see myself cut the engine and the car door flies open. I pounce on him before the bastard can turn around. My hand grabs the back of his neck and I yank. He falls, tripping over the stairs. His body sails over them until he reaches the landing and then his head cracks over the pavement.
Cool rage controls my movements. I lift up my foot and slam it into his chest. I feel the crunch of his bones underneath my feet. Again and again. His beardless face twists with moans that I can only barely hear. He flails like an ugly insect on the ground.
Then a soft touch curls around my arm, and the sound finally returns. It’s a feminine voice, screaming in my ear. “STOP!”
I ignore her and bend over the piece of shit moaning at my feet. “Come to my house? You show up at my fucking doorstep?”
My boot lashes out, connecting with the side of his ribs. He flips over and I see the white embroidery: DEVILS MC.
“Jack, stop!”
He moans. “I just wanted—”
“You just wanted to what?”
I bend down and grab a handful of his brown hair, and I wrench him to a sitting position.
“I wanted to visit Beatrice.”
I lower my face to his until he flinches from my closeness. “Stay the fuck away from my wife, or I’ll kill you.”
“I wasn’t trying—”
“Get the fuck out of here!”
Then I release his greasy head and turn around, burning with rage as I grab Beatrice’s arm and drag her up the steps.
“What the hell did you do?”
I throw her inside the apartment. She jumps when I slam the door.
“Who the fuck was that?”
Big blue eyes widen at me as she tugs the hem of her skirt down. The sight of long, creamy thighs distracts me for a moment.
“Paul—he was just—he wanted to see if I was okay.” Her eyes fill with tears. “You didn’t have to hurt him.”
I take another step forward, noticing that she has her hair piled up on her head. Delicate blonde wisps frame her face. It only makes her look even more fragile.
“I told you that I didn’t want to see them at my house. Ever.”
“They’re my family.”
“Your family destroyed mine. He was all I had, don’t you fucking understand that?”
My hand throbs from the beating I gave that piece of shit. Fear shines from her wide eyes. She looks as though I fucking hit her. I take a step closer and I grab the back of her delicate neck, inhaling the spicy scent of ginger.
“It’s not fair,” she breathes, her eyes squeezed shut.
I feel her breaking under my hands, shaking like a delicate bird. My fingers sweep under her chin.
“Look at me.”
She obeys. I stare into her liquid blue eyes, tiny droplets clinging on her blonde eyelashes.
“I hate to break it to you, but life’s not fair.”
“You shouldn’t punish me for this—I had nothing to do with the people who killed him.”
“You’re complicit. You’re one of them.”
“They don’t care about me!”
Something inside me breaks as her eyes well up with tears and they suddenly spill over her cheeks.
“My dad never wanted me to do this. I should have listened.”
There’s a freckle on her upper lip. Blood pounds through my cock. She shakes her head.
“Maybe you should have.”
Her mouth twists into a savage snarl and she shoves my chest. “I hate you!”
I grab her flailing arm and drag her into the bedroom, where there’s a full-length mirror. I reach up into her head of hair and dig my fingers in as confusion shivers over Beatrice’s face. I watch myself, smirking, as I snake my arm around her waist to pin her to me.
“You can hate me all you want, sweetheart. God knows I love a good hate fuck.”
Then I pull her hair a little bit so that she bends over my arm, and then I kiss her soft neck, all the way down to her clavicle.
“You hate me… You want me.”
“I’m pretty sure I just hate you.”
I watch my mouth spread into a smile as she squirms in my arms. “Yeah? Let’s find out how wet you are just from being held by me.”
I slide from her waist to hike up her skirt, enjoying the view of her upper thigh being exposed. Then I move my hand up her smooth skin, giving her ass a squeeze before I hook my fingers over her panties and pull them down her silky legs. They drop to her ankles and she presses her legs together.
“You broke the rules.”
Her perky ass almost demands a slap, and I quickly spank her left cheek.
“Spread your legs, or you’ll get another one.”
Breathing hard, she moves her legs an inch apart, and my finger glides around her hip and up her gorgeous thighs to slip in her wetness. Her pussy is soaked for me. My cock grows inside my slacks as I watch her face collapse.
“Yeah, I think you’re a little liar.”
She looks so fucking hot with my hand up her skirt, her breasts heaving as she grabs the arm as if to throw it off, but she can’t go through with it.
“Why—why are you doing this?”
Revenge. Fuck the MC. I’ll take one of your daughters and turn her into my dick-sucking slave. I’ll make her worship me. She’ll be mine.
“’Cause I want you.”
I fuck her pussy, digging my fingers deep into her wet cunt as I tear off her shirt, and the sight of her topless makes my dick jump. I press her against the glass as she moans.
“I want you to look at yourself. Look how turned-on you are.”
My fingers thrust hard between her legs, and she lets out a cry. “Jack!”
“Look at yourself.”
She turns her head and looks, seeing her panting expression and me behind her. My hand squeezes each of her round tits and then I play with her hard nipples, twisting them with my fingers. She moans hard.
Jesus Christ, I want to sink my cock into her.
I’ve almost had enough of her bucking against my hand, but then she turns her head and kisses me like she’s never kissed me before. It’s fucking rough and full of teeth.
My other hand slips out between her legs and I bring it to her face. She pulls away from me, her lips swollen as I move the finger covered in her juices over her mouth. Her tongue teases my fingers as she sucks every last drop.
Then my fingers fall from her mouth and she gives me a plaintive look.
I feel her ass riding against my stiff cock, and more than anything I want to watch myself bang her in front of this mirror.
With a few swift jerks my slacks fall to the floor, and Beatrice shudders as she feels my length against her back.
“I want you to watch yourself as I bury my cock in you.”
And then I tug down my briefs, hissing as the cool air hits my shaft. I pull a condom from the nightstand and rip it open, rolling it over me. Then I pull her lips apart, guiding my cock into her wet heat.
She gives such a high gasp that I’m sure I hurt her, until she collapses against the mirror.
Oh God, the fucking relief. It washes over me the moment I sink into her and ram my cock home. All the bullshit in my life fades away, and I only care about giving her my cum.
“Hands against the mirror.”
Beatrice spreads her legs wide and places her hands on the mirror, bending over to give me a nice view of her ass. I flip the skirt over her back and watch her face contort with pleasure and pain.
Fuck, she feels good. Her cunt is like smooth silk over my cock, warm and welcoming. It opens up, letting me in deeper, until my balls crush against her pussy and she lets out a sharp moan. The rhythmic slapping gets my blood boiling, the feeling of her hips in my hands, and even seeing myself pounding this bitch.
I spank her ass once, twice, watching blood rise to the surface of her skin. I watch it move in tandem with my fucking. She balls her fists on the mirror and cries out.
“More, Jack!”
I reach forward and grab a ponytail of hair. I yank back, forcing her to arch.
“Shut up and take my cum.”
The friction gets intense, and I feel my balls heating up. Close. So close. Loud smacks fill the room as I fuck her harder. She’s screaming so loud that we’re going to get the cops called on us.
I wrap my arm around her waist and I swing her upright, crushing her against the glass as I drive into her. My other hand still yanks her hair, and I dig my fingers deep. I find her pussy and I press down over her clit, and her moans deepen.
“Holy shit, Jack!”
Then I feel it ripping through me. Her muscles tighten around my cock and I thrust hard, releasing my cum into her. I have to keep fucking her. Everything inside me wants that cum shoved as deep as possible, but of course the condom catches it all. Her pussy contracts beneath my fingers as I pulse in and out, the wave of pleasure receding.
I slip out of her and she turns around, wrapping her arms around my neck and digging her fingers into my hair. It feels amazing.
She lifts herself on her toes to kiss me, and incredible warmth fills my chest. Then I wonder if she’s becoming mine or if I’m becoming hers.