Saxton walked out to his bike, Sara trailing behind him. This sure wasn’t how he’d imagined the night going, but he was happy with the turn of events. She was smoking hot. Being able to nail this sweet little bundle was worth the high price.
He’d never paid so much for a woman. Not even close. But after talking to her and knowing he was helping her pay for nursing school, it felt more like he was helping her out than buying sex. Like she was a good friend and he’d decided to step up and cover her bill for her. Hell, maybe he’d even find out where she went and cover the rest of it. He was feeling just that nice.
He walked with his chest puffed out. He’d also rescued her. Who knew what in the world that creep Darien would do to her. It couldn’t be good. But he had stepped up and bid high enough to keep her from him. He hoped she realized just how big that was.
And after she’d mentioned the knives, it got him thinking. Could he have something to do with Liam’s death? Darien’s MC was a rival of the Jagged Souls, and Darien was the type of guy to overlook any sort of code. He had no honor. Especially if the rumors about him were true.
Saxton had let his mind slip back into that place of obsession for a few minutes. He’d looked around the warehouse for Darien, to see if he could get a hint of him being involved somehow. To see if he could catch him doing something shady. Saxton thought of the knife sitting in his dresser drawer. The hilt with the eagle crest. The only real evidence left at Liam’s murder scene that he had to go on. Seemed like something tacky enough that Darien would love it. Was just his style. So was he the murderer? Saxton had overlooked him before because he didn’t think the guy had balls big enough to pull it off. And at the beginning, right after Liam’s death, Saxton had been a lot more sure that he could find the killer fast, so he eliminated suspects fast.
Now that his hottest leads had gone nowhere and all this time had passed, maybe he needed to go back and look at everyone again. Maybe he’d missed something. The killer was out there somewhere. And Saxton would find him. And then he’d put a bullet in the murderer’s head just like he had done to Liam, except Saxton would beat the piss out of the guy first for what he’d done.
He’d had to remind himself that tonight he was supposed to be letting loose, not focusing on the murder. And he’d paid a lot for this night with Sara. She’d brought him back to their conversation by asking about his work. Had she really thought he would go into detail about all the goings on in the Jagged Souls? No, he’d guessed not since she quickly moved on. For half a second, he thought she might be a spy from a rival club. He’d still be careful. Not let her see anything too important. Anything that would give away important information about the Jagged Souls or their business dealings.
She had seemed so terrified at this whole thing, that his plan had been to get her to chill out a bit first. Make it feel more like a pickup than an auction. That’s why he’d had her sit at the table with him. He wanted nothing more than to throw her right on his bike and drive off to screw, but the way she looked at him warned him that that probably wouldn’t go too well. She’d seemed to relax after a few drinks, talk more. But then he’d let his hand fall to her knee—to her knee, for Christ’s sake—and she’d nearly jumped out of her skin.
This could take a while, he thought. For a minute he considered ditching her and walking a few blocks to get a cheap screw. He’d paid the club, so he knew they wouldn’t care that he hadn’t bothered to pay the girl, and if he hadn’t even done her, what difference would it make?
But when he knew why she wanted the money, that she wasn’t just some skanky hoe and that his eight grand wouldn’t go up her nose or in her veins, then his thoughts had shifted. Then she became a challenge. Then he thought, I have to win her over just like any other pickup. Make her feel wanted and turn her on. That’s why he’d used his best lines on her. Make her feel pretty, desirable. The things women needed to get turned on. Seemed to work with her.
And he thought his biggest win was asking her if she wanted to leave with him. They both knew he’d paid a ton for her to go home with him, but there was no reason to make her feel like she didn’t have a choice. Give her the illusion of control, make it feel like a typical hookup, and maybe that would mean she would have a good time. She had to need it. She looked and acted like she hadn’t been laid in years. When he’d tried again to put his hand on her knee, her body responded more appropriately. She’d warmed and leaned in and when she crossed her legs, he knew. She was getting hot for him.
She was more relaxed, but was she relaxed enough? He wondered if she would be the type to snort coke. He had plenty at home, and he wouldn’t mind sharing if that made her more comfortable. Whatever worked for her. He just had to sink himself into her and fast. He was going to explode from the hardness of his cock.
Saxton swung his leg over his bike and waited for Sara to slide into place behind him. “Hold on tight.”
“You don’t wear a helmet?”
“Nope.”
He started the bike and drove off, the cool night air drying the sweat on his forehead. Her arms wrapped around his chest felt nice, but it was making him hot. And the Scotch hadn’t helped. He needed to peel these clothes off and then peel off all of hers. He pictured it and pushed down harder on his pedal.
He made the drive home in record time. After shutting off the bike and helping her off, he led her inside. His place was messy. He hadn’t planned for company. Oh well. Not like he was trying to start a relationship with her. Was kind of nice not to have to impress her. It didn’t matter what she thought of him or his place.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked.
“I think I’m okay.”
“Maybe another drink, a sniff or two of coke?”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t do coke.”
“A drink then?”
“Okay.”
He went to the kitchen and she wandered in behind him, looking around.
“Nice place,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“Nice and big. Roomy. My place is a shoebox.”
“You live in a dorm?” He took out two glasses and set them on the counter.
“No, I have an apartment. But with two people, it’s crammed.”
“Two? You don’t have a boyfriend do you?” He poured the Scotch and turned to hand her a glass.
“No. Roommate.”
“Never know. Some guys would be all for selling their girls.”
She made a face and he guessed she would never end up with someone like that. What kind of man would she date? Someone who approved of what she was doing right now? Someone who understood, would take her hand as she cried, telling him the horrible thing she’d done, then hold her tight and comfort her? Probably. Some dude who was nothing like him.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked. She looked around again. Was she trying to decide if a woman’s touch had been involved in his sparse decorations?
“Nope. Single. And I like to keep it that way.”
She nodded and took a long sip of her drink. “Lived here long?”
“A few years.”
God, how long would this small talk go on? He wanted her to feel comfortable. He wasn’t such a prick that he’d ever force a woman, and something in her innocence made him want to protect her. Even if it was from himself. But at the same time, his balls were aching. He needed a release soon. And maybe more than one. Hell, he’d paid her enough for that, right? A full night of screwing? Maybe he should have asked how these things usually worked. What should he expect from her? All he knew was, he needed to give her eight grand before she left.
He stepped forward and took her empty glass from her hand, setting it on the counter behind her. He stood in front of her, put his hands on either side of her so he was leaning against the counter, surrounding her. She swallowed hard and looked up at him.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said. This was almost like role playing. He was playing the part of the protector, taking an innocent little virgin for the first time. She was probably just as tight as one, too.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head toward him. He bent down and pressed his lips to hers, then pulled them back. He went in again, taking longer with each kiss. She tasted good. Like candy, ironically enough. Maybe it had been a good name for her.
He tugged on her lip with his teeth. He wanted to chew her to little pieces right there. He could lift her skirt and take her on the counter. That would be hot. But maybe this sweet little thing needed the bed. Or maybe he’d do both. He’d do her nice and easy in his bed first, like she was used to. Then he’d show her just how hot things could be. They could fuck all over the house. The kitchen counter, against the wall in the entry, on the couch, in the hot tub. How many times would she let him come in her? Oh crap. Did he have enough condoms? He thought he had at least a half box.
Their kissing grew more intense. His hand found its way into her hair and he let it fall through her long blonde locks, then return to the top of her head and start again. He kissed down her neck slowly, then back up to her lips. She seemed to be liking it. He never worried about this sort of thing before. Usually if a woman came home with him, it was because she already wanted him, not because he paid her to. On the rare occasions that he paid for a screw, it was always some back alley job, or in his car parked somewhere, fast and dirty. He never brought them home.
She was too still, and he thought maybe something was wrong. She didn’t lift her hand to touch his face or run her fingers through his hair. Her arms hung at her sides, like she was frozen in fright.
He backed away to look in her eyes. “You okay?”
She nodded and swallowed hard.
“What can I get you? Another drink? Something to eat?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“Want to take this upstairs?”
She swallowed again and took in a breath. “Okay,” she whispered.
He took her hand and walked her to the stairs, squeezing it as they climbed the steps to the second floor. His bedroom was even more of a mess and when they entered, he kicked some dirty clothes out of the way.
He turned and picked her up. She gasped in surprise. He laid her gently on the bed, then climbed into position over her. Hopefully this would let her relax and work into it. Geez, he’d never taken his time like this.
He took a moment to gaze into her eyes, brush her hair out of the way. Then he started kissing her again. He wanted her to touch him so badly. To run her nails along his back or grab his dick. Would it freak her out if he asked her to suck him off? Probably. Some women got all uptight about that even if they had chosen to be with you.
He let his hand trail along her neck and down. Her dress was low cut, revealing some cleavage. He kissed down and between her breasts, then returned to her lips, but let his fingers trace the edge of her dress, dipping down in to rub against them. He ran his thumb over her nipple and she stiffened.
Was this how it was going to be the whole time, then? She’d tense up and he’d have to slow down to get her to relax?
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I want you. Can you feel how bad?” He pressed his hips down so that his hard on pressed into her.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He thought he saw tears in her eyes. Jesus, really? She was crying? It almost killed his erection, but if she was going to be like that, maybe he didn’t care so much if she was comfortable. He could just bang her hard and give her what she needed, then move on.
“Do you want me?” he asked.
She nodded, but squeezed her eyes shut. She was lying.
He resumed kissing her and his hand move down her body until it found the edge of her dress. He slipped his hand under and ran it up her thigh.
She turned away from him suddenly, rolling over in the bed and ducking out from under his arm.
“I can’t do this,” she said, tears now running down her face.
She scrambled off the bed and dashed out of the room. Saxton let out a frustrated breath and collapsed on the bed, his dick throbbing. He expected to hear his front door close, but instead, he heard the door of his extra bedroom close. There was mostly just paperwork and an old bed in there. Nothing interesting or important.
He pushed himself up and got out of bed. He went to the door and knocked. “Sara?”
She didn’t answer. He tried the doorknob. Locked.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. She was crying. He could hear it in her voice.
Now what? He ran his hand through his hair. Maybe she just needed some time. He reached down to adjust himself. He couldn’t wait much longer.
He pressed his back against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. He let his head fall back until it rested against the wall. What the hell should he do now? What could he say to make this better? What a complete disaster of a night.
He’d gotten no new info on Liam’s murderer, which was his goal of every day. Maybe there was something with Darien, but that felt weak, like he was grasping at straws. He’d still have fun roughing him up for information, though. He’d gone out tonight to take a break, get away from the stress. He’d hoped to hook up, of course. He was always hoping for that. There was no better way to relieve stress than to shoot off into some hot chick. But now even that was falling apart. He didn’t think they could recover from this. As much as he hated to admit it, Sara was not the type to do this auction thing. And she wasn’t his type at all. This was a disaster before it even began.
He let out a long sigh and tried to think of something to say to her.