CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ripper jumped over Cox and took off down the hallway after Danny. Motherfucking crazy, ass-less Kami. Always running her mouth. Using him to try and make Cox jealous over something that happened ten years ago. And it worked. Every damn time. If that was his bitch using another dude to make him jealous, always kneeing him in the junk when she was pissed off, he’d slap the fucking shit out of her.

He found Danny fumbling with the key to her room. One glance at him stalking her way and she amped up her fumbling.

“Danny!” he growled, increasing his pace. “Fuckin’ wait!”

He caught up just as she turned the key. Grabbing her arm, he yanked her down the back hallway and into a dark corner, unseen by the cameras mounted on the walls.

“I know what you’re thinkin’,” he whispered, “but it ain’t like that. Me and Kami—”

“Shut up!” she hissed. “I heard exactly what you did with Kami!”

His grip tightened on her arm, squeezing the limb. “Don’t do this,” he gritted out. “Not now, not here in the fuckin’ club. What happened with Kami was ten years ago, Danny. What the fuck were you doin’ ten years ago?”

Her cheeks turning pink, she glanced down, refusing to make eye contact.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispered. “So cut me some fuckin’ slack.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I guess I wasn’t thinking. I thought—”

He cut her off with a kiss he knew he shouldn’t be risking, not with so many people cooped up inside the club. But, shit, he didn’t want her hating on him and with Danny, it seemed need was always overpowering sense.

Her free arm slid around his waist under his T-shirt and her nails scraped lightly over his skin. He closed his eyes and kissed her harder.

“We should go to my room,” she whispered, moaning softly as his lips descended down her neck and his hands up her ribcage. “Or back in the pantry.”

They should. They should at least get the fuck out of the hallway. But he couldn’t wait that long. The dim lighting, his size compared to her, all convinced his lust-addled brain that if someone happened to come down this hall within the next five minutes, unable to see Danny’s face, whoever it was would just think he was fucking a club slut and leave him the hell alone. It wasn’t the first time he’d fucked a bitch in the hallway.

Not by a long shot.

“No,” he rasped, cupping her ass. “Now…”

“Ripper…no…”

He’d already lifted her, was pulling her underwear, still soaked from their last encounter, to the side and pushing inside of her.

“You can’t say no,” he growled, slapping his hand across her mouth. “It ain’t allowed.”

“Yes, I can,” she mumbled. “I can say…oh god…oh god…”

Male arrogance slammed into him like a battering ram and his hand tightened, further muffling her cries and whimpers. He smiled to himself; she couldn’t say no to him any more than he could say no to her.

“Baby,” he said softly during a series of small, hard, hip thrusts up into her. “Made up my mind. I’m takin’ you home with me. Sick of fuckin’ you with my hand over your mouth. I wanna be goin’ deaf hearin’ you screamin’ my name, yeah?”

She couldn’t answer but he could feel the curl of her lips underneath his hand and, fuck, if that didn’t turn him on to the point of internal combustion.

Ripper slammed his hips forward, rolling them as their bodies connected, his cock pulsing against her walls as he ground painfully into her. Eyes wide, she was panting hot, wet breaths against his hand, her heels were digging into the backs of his thighs, her nails piercing the skin on his neck.

It was so fucking hot, fucking her out in the open where anyone could find them. She was always so fucking hot, just letting him take and take and take from her, from her mouth and her body, from her sweet pussy, he took it all, he took everything, chewed it up, spit it back out, and then took her all over again.

He. Took. It. All.

He wasn’t giving it back.

Danny was his.

Now he just had to figure out how he was going to convince her father of that.

• • •

“Stop looking at me like that,” I whispered, feeling flustered and blushing as I yanked my skirt down.

Ripper, who hadn’t had to right his clothing because he hadn’t had to do much except unbutton his pants, was grinning down at me, watching me try to re-assemble myself.

“Shirt’s on inside out.” He laughed. “Musta been from the pantry.”

I looked down and, damn it, my tank top was on inside out. Embarrassed, I closed my eyes, thinking about everyone who’d seen me after I’d left the kitchen. Did they know? Had it been obvious what I’d been doing? Had I waited long enough after Ripper had left the kitchen? I didn’t know. Who knew how long Eva and Dorothy had been standing out there.

“Ripper.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin but Ripper, upon hearing his name, had gone still, his smile slipping off his face. It took him all of a second to steel his expression and then he was turning around and facing Hawk.

“Yeah?”

Hawk’s narrowed eyes landed on me and I swallowed hard. How was one supposed to look nonchalant when they felt like anything but?

“What’s up?” Hawk asked warily, glancing between the two of us.

Pulling his cigarettes from his cut, Ripper lit one up and shrugged. “Not a whole fuck of a lot. You?”

Hawk flexed his jaw, his hard stare now on Ripper.

He knew.

He so knew.

“Just hopin’ you know what you’re doin’, brother.”

Ripper’s fist clenched around his lit cigarette. Ash and tobacco fell through his fingers, drifting down to his feet. I stared at his hand, in shock that he didn’t seem to care that he was purposely burning himself.

“How’s D doin’?” Ripper gritted out. “Good? Or is she still throwin’ dishes at your head?”

My head shot up. D? And throwing dishes? What did Dorothy or dishes have to do with anything?

Hawk’s response was nearly imperceptible, just a small flinch, a twitch really and an extra blink, something I wouldn’t have even noticed if I hadn’t been staring directly at his face. Something was going on, something involving Dorothy and Hawk.

The two men said nothing as they continued to stare at each other.

Then Hawk gave a slight nod. “Fair enough,” he said gruffly. “Ain’t none of my business anyways.”

As Hawk walked off, Ripper turned to me. “Go to your room, baby. I got this shit.”

I did as he said, nervous yet confident that Ripper knew what he was talking about, and called Anabeth.

She answered after three rings. “Are you still on lockdown?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what’s up?”

“I need a favor.”

“A sexual favor?”

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”

“Well, what then?” she asked, sounding bored.

“After lockdown, I want to spend a few days at Ripper’s. Will you cover for me?”

“Actually,” she said, snapping her gum. “If it’s next week, it works out perfectly. It’s the annual fam’ trip to the Poconos.”

I grinned. That was perfect. Anabeth would be gone for an entire week, which meant for that entire week I could be alone with Ripper. Alone.

Envisioning all the things we could do while alone, without worry of being caught, my stomach flip-flopped.

“Thank you,” I said, unable to keep excitement from bleeding into my voice.

Her gum snapped. “I want something in return.”

I made a face. “What?”

“I want to know how big Ripper is.”

“Anabeth,” I said, exasperated. “Why do you even care?”

“Because,” she said pointedly. “If you ever get sick of big, scarred, and sexy, I want to know if he’s worth my time.”

Just thinking about Ripper with another woman, let alone one of my closest friends, made me sick to my stomach. But as much as I wanted to tell her to go to hell, I knew she wouldn’t let up.

“He’s big,” I admitted. “But I don’t have much to compare him to.”

“I want inches and circumference,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact.

“Oh my god, Anabeth, seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Fine.” I sighed. “He’s, um, like as long as…” I trailed off, looking around my room, trying to find something to compare Ripper’s penis to. “The DVR remote. Or, almost as long,” I finished, picking the remote up off my bed and studying it.

“Mmmm,” Anabeth murmured. “Nice. What about girth? When you hold it, do your fingers overlap?”

“Oh. My. God.” I groaned. “I hate you. No, they don’t overlap, they don’t even touch.”

“Perfect,” she purred. “Does he eat you out?”

“I’m hanging up now!”

“What? It’s a legitimate question and a deal breaker for me. If a guy isn’t going to go down on—”

I hung up.

Two seconds later my phone vibrated, signaling a new text message.

What about stamina? Is he a one, two pump?