Trix
Stupid fucking lemon drops. How many did I have? Five. No six? I retrace my steps and count in my mind while I rock my body against Hatch. He’s basically ignoring me, talking to the guy next to him, but he keeps a firm grip on my hip to keep me from toppling over.
If only I could feel my legs, then maybe I’d be able to hold myself up from Hatch’s lap rather than falling into it every time I try to dance. I didn’t intend to drink so much, but the only way to tolerate what I have to do is to be inebriated. Not so much that I can’t think, just enough to go numb.
I’ve been eavesdropping on every conversation I could get close enough to, and all I’ve learned is that this is some kind of celebratory party thrown by some bigwig dude who has his hands in more illegal shit than I could keep up with.
Apparently, his guys are going into business with Hatch’s guys, and they’ve all gathered in Vegas to shake hands, toss out threats, and kiss each other’s asses.
Nothing new. Total waste of my time. And damn, I’m so sick of being drunk.
As if on cue, my ankle twists, and I drop into Hatch’s lap. A giggle bursts from my lips, and Hatch grabs my hair and pulls my face to his.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were looking for something.” He flexes his hips, grinding his hard-on into my ass.
“No, Hatch.” I pull my head for him to free my hair, and he does. “I’m not.”
Whipping my hair around, I give him my back and sway my hips along with the music. If I weren’t so drunk, I’d be asleep out of sheer boredom.
A firm grip pinches my thigh. “Ow!” I move to slap the hand away, but meet Hatch’s glare that brooks no argument.
He pulls me to him, turns me around, and pulls me down to straddle his crotch. His hot breath pants in my ear. “You’re pissin’ me the fuck off.” Strong fingers bite into my side.
I close my eyes, locking down my jaw to avoid whimpering. His hand tangles in my hair, burning my scalp. “You’re . . . hurting me.”
Where the hell did this come from?
He growls against my neck. “Lying little bitch.” He emphasizes his words with a firm tug that wrenches my neck.
My heart races with panic.
“Get your fucking hands off her.” The menacing voice stills my blood, and I shudder in Hatch’s hold.
Anger melts from his expression and is replaced by something that almost looks like excitement. I follow the line of his gaze, and my heart slams so hard behind my ribs I fall back onto Hatch’s chest.
Mason. And Drake? What . . .?
Oh my God, Mason. I scramble off Hatch’s chest only to be slammed back down onto his lap, this time facing away from him. His arm comes around my waist, holding me to him. “If it ain’t my two favorite brothers.”
Mason doesn’t take his eyes off me, pinning me with a glare that screams complete devastation.
Drake hooks Mason by the arm and tries to pull him away, but Mason shakes him off easily, stepping closer in the process. “I’m only gonna say it one more time. Let her go.”
My spine goes straight, panic and fear making me want to run. I don’t want Mason to see me like this, half naked and straddled over another man.
“Who the fuck invited you dipshits?” Hatch laughs then slides me off his lap to his side so that I’m pressed between him and the biker guy named Cage he was talking to.
How does Hatch know Mason? Why is he here?
Paralyzed with shock, my booze-fogged head tries to sort out what my eyes see, but I come up short, refusing to believe Mason would ever associate with guys like Hatch.
Drake moves forward, glaring. “Where’s Elijah?”
“Lookin’ for Daddy? How sweet.” Hatch motions to the mysterious door at the opposite side of the room where people have been coming and going all night.
Mason shakes his head as if he has no idea he’s acting out the one word his mind is probably screaming. A single tear builds and spills over my lower lid. Unable to hold his accusing glare for another second, I drop my head into my hands.
“Shit, you gonna toss?” Hatch’s hand grips the back of my neck. “If so, get your ass to a bathroom.”
I nod, feeling the acid from my stomach rush to my throat. He shoves me to standing and I take two quick steps, before my shoe snags on the carpet. I fall forward. My hands move to brace my fall, but two arms wrap around me, and I’m slammed into a wall of muscle.
The scent of fresh grass and honey surround me. “Mase—”
“Shh,” he says into my hair while guiding me through a crowd.
“Stop, don’t.” I try to wiggle out of his hold, but his grip only tightens. “Let me go.”
“Can’t. Not until we talk.” He guides me to a door and pushes me into a room, plunging me into darkness when the door closes.
I whirl around, searching for him, grateful when the light finally clicks on. I squint against brightness and turn to catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My top is made of fishnet, and my shorts cut up high on my ass, lacing up the back and leaving very little to the imagination. God, he must think the worst of me.
“What are you doing here?” I’d hoped the question would come out more accusatory than desperate. “Did you follow me?”
His jaw is clamped down in barely concealed rage. “That’s your fucking source? That guy?” He practically spits the words through clenched teeth.
“Yes, but . . .” I blink up at him, thoughts whirling and trying to put the pieces together. “You know each other?”
He runs a hand through his shaggy hair, gripping it tight at his scalp. He’s not denying it.
“Mason . . . how?”
He spears me with a glare that has me stumbling back into the wall. “This is over. Tonight.”
“What? Why? You said—”
“That guy, your boyfriend—”
“He’s not my boyfriend! You know why—”
“Almost killed my brother.”
A gasp rushes from my lips. I press against my chest to push back the feeling that my heart is about to leap from my body. “How does Drake know Hatch? Wait, why are you guys even here?”
I shake my head as if somehow mixing up all the information will help it to finally align to make sense.
“It’s over, Trix.”
I jerk my eyes to his at the non-negotiable tone in his voice. “No, it’s not.”
He takes a step toward me, his icy-blue stare sending chills across my skin. “It is.”
“How can you say that? He just came back.”
He moves in more until the heat of his breath is on my lips. “It’s over.”
I grip his T-shirt, shoving him back and at the same time dragging him to me, needing my space as much as I need to crawl inside him. “It’s not over yet. No!”
Lightning fast, he whirls me in front of him, pinning my hips to the counter top from behind me. He grips my chin, forcing my eyes to the mirror, and growls in my ear. “Look at yourself.” His eyes are wild, glistening with rage, and his jaw throbs with tension.
Possessive, violent, and breathtaking.
He flexes his hips, pressing mine deeper into the granite vanity until the pinch of pain brings my eyes to the mirror.
My untamed hair is tossed around my shoulders, purple streaks like roadways across the net shirt that displays my naked breasts. I blink as my eyes travel lower. Mason’s possessive hand is splayed across my bare stomach.
“Is this what you want, Trix?” He jerks my chin. “Look at yourself now. Is this what you want?”
I shiver in his hold, knowing the right answer is no, but holding onto the last thread of hope that I could help bring my family peace and Lana’s killer to justice.
He tilts my face up, catching my eyes, and I fight the urge to recoil at the darkness I see in their depths. “I’m done with this. Not doing this anymore.”
“What . . . why?”
His hand roams up, stopping at the tender underside of my breast. “Can only take so much. Thoughts of you with anyone else are fucking torture.” He grazes my neck with his fingertips, brushing my hair back. “I know you’re doing your best to respect what we have, but I don’t give a fuck anymore. It’s not enough.” Hot, wet kisses paint my shoulder and neck until he nips at my ear. “You wanna know why this is over? Why I’m putting an end to this bullshit?” His breath beats heavy in my ear and he grips me hard. “Because you’re mine.” His declaration rumbles against my skin seconds before he turns me and drops to his knees.
My hands brace against the counter behind me as he throws one leg over his shoulder. Rough hands grip the thin material of my boy-shorts, pulling them aside.
“Mase . . .” My words dissolve on a moan as he buries his mouth between my legs.
He nips at me with his teeth, punishing me before slashing me with his tongue in a brutal and delicious assault. I lean back, leveraging as I dig my heel into his back, encouraging him to have his way. Opening myself to his fury. He growls against my over-sensitized flesh, whether in frustration or approval, I’m not sure. I’d take either.
He slides one big hand up the back of my shorts, grabbing my ass so hard it’s sure to leave a mark. “It’s over.” His teeth graze, lips pull, and tongue lashes against me.
I roll my head on my shoulders, trying to stay upright and at the same time wanting to fall into the strength of his hands. No, no, no . . . it’s not over. My voice can’t find the words as his mouth has robbed me of breath.
So close, the sensations coil deep in my belly. I rock myself against him, joining in the rhythm as his hand at my ass guides me, rewarding me. Loving me even through his anger. Reminding me what I’ve given him and what he claimed. Proving that I’m his—that he owns not only my heart, but my body too.
I fist his hair, holding him exactly where I need him. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as my orgasm shreds through me, full-body and overpowering. My thighs quake, and a low whimper of ecstasy pours from my lips. Panting, I breathe through the aftershocks of my release. His tongue moves still, in lazy but purposeful stokes, coaxing me back to earth.
My heart beats to the chant of my soul: I’m his. I’m his. I’m his.
My ankle wobbles on my high heels, threatening to give out. He pulls back, hoisting me up to the countertop and settling between my legs. His arms wrap around me, and his lips kiss a pattern against my neck.
My eyes burn with tears. The combination of seeing him here, having a front row seat to his disappointment then his punishment, and having more questions than I have answers, only intensifies the pain.
A mournful cry falls from my lips as all the years of my searching seem to dissolve in this moment. I don’t want to live with this hurt anymore. Don’t want to push away my one chance at a happy life. Sick of selling my soul for hope that Lana’s killer will be found, I’m tired of pushing Mason away.
“Beatriks, baby . . .” He smooths my hair off my face. “You gave yourself to me, and now it’s my responsibility to keep you safe. Those guys, Hatch, they’re dangerous, and I’ll give you the choice, but if it’s not the right one, I’ll make it for you.” He runs the pads of his thumbs along my jaw, his blue eyes piercing mine. “Walk away from this with me.”
He’s right. I’ve prolonged this long enough, and before, when my heart was empty and I had nothing else, it was easy to convince myself that this is what I needed to do. But my heart is full now and my search seems pointless.
I nod. “I want to. I really want to.” I hold him close, burying my nose into his chest and breathing in his earthy sweet scent. “I love you, Mason.”
“Love you too.” He rubs soothing circles against my back. “Hate seeing you here; hate all this.”
“Wait . . .” I pull back enough to see him, blinking through the fog of my tears. “How do you know Hatch?”
His eyes dart to the side of me, and I lean over to catch his gaze. “Tell me.”
“Caught him and some of his guys fucking with Drake. Thought they’d kill ’em. Jumped in. They put Drake’s debt on me.”
“Drake’s debt. What did he owe?”
“Drugs.”
My eyes narrow as I put two and two together. “So . . . you had to give them drugs?”
“Basically, yeah.”
A gasp slips from my lips before I can catch it. “You’re a . . . drug dealer?”
“No, I delivered drugs to some assholes who tried to kill my brother so that they’d fucking leave him alone.”
“And did they?”
He shrugs. “We’re here, aren’t we? No clue what Drake’s dad has in store for him tonight—”
My eyes widen as realization of their earlier conversation finally dawns. “This guy, the one behind the door, is Drake’s dad.”
He nods. “Shit with this Hatch guy runs deeper than just an MC. He’s in bed with Elijah, who is the worst combination of criminal: greedy, psychotic, and no fucking soul.”
Nausea rolls through my stomach, and the lemon drops threaten a second appearance. I shiver in his arms. “Drake’s in deep?”
“Trying to shovel his ass out, but yeah, he is.”
I shake my head, worrying my bottom lip with my teeth.
“Whatever you need from this Hatch guy isn’t worth you putting yourself in this kind of danger.”
He’s right. “You’re—”
Bam-bam-bam! “Open up!”
My eyes pop wide, and my pulse pounds between my ears. “Oh shit. It’s Hatch.”