For a while I was content to sit there in my cousin’s badly fitting dress, surrounded by men I didn’t know as conversation and music boomed around me. It felt familiar and yet different from the obnoxious beat of the clubhouse. It was just as loud, but without my father’s men treating me like a princess. It was nice. Now it’s like nails on chalkboard, like an unpleasant shrieking sound, growing louder and louder. Kind of like my heartbeat, slamming against my chest.

Shit. What did I almost get myself into?

My chest rattles from my heartbeat as I totter in my heels, trying to look dignified as I focus on getting the fuck away from this bar as fast as possible.

That Italian guy in the bar had me wrapped around his finger. He just wanted to fuck me, to use my body. My father’s dire warnings against them ring in my head: Never ever let me catch you with an Italian, Maya. They’re no good. They’ll just use you for your body and dump you when it’s over.

Damn, I almost made a decision I would’ve regretted.

Don’t kid yourself. You would have loved stripping off your dress for him. He was sex on a stick.

He was. Fuck, the way his hands glided up my legs, just brushing my upper thigh. I was ready to give myself to him there, to let him smooth his hands all the way up my thighs and make me come the way he said he would.

Daddy will never know.

I shiver in the warm June air as I think of that desperately sinful smile, those dimples curving into his face, the small wrinkles near his eyes. Just having his hands on me in the office was almost enough for me to get wet. They felt so strong and confident, as if he’d held a woman many times before. There was no lack of confidence in that hot gaze, even when he told me to let him talk to my dad.

Hah. As if.

I’ve never met such a ballsy bar owner, but then again, I didn’t tell him who my dad was.

“You’re thinking about that hot Italian guy, aren’t you?”

“What?” I say in a voice that’s way too high-pitched. “No, of course not.”

My cousin gives me a sidelong glance, the corner of her lip tugging into a smile.

“You are.”

“Fine. So what? He was hotter than any guy in the MC.”

Beatrice shrugs one bare shoulder. “I don’t know about that.”

“Are you crazy?” My voice rings down the street. “What, you like those bearded, nasty assholes who get drunk every Thursday with those strippers my father always hires?”

She throws back her blonde head and laughs, the golden highlights harsh under the streetlights. “Oh come on, they’re not all like that.”

I stare at her wide smile as we walk back to her car, unable to understand her levity. We both grew up behind the same walls—both have restrictions on our comings and goings from the compound. Fuck, we’re not even supposed to go to bars without an escort. Let alone a bar rumored to be connected. Dad would flip.

How can she be happy about this?

“So what happened when you went into his office?”

My insides seize up as she walks past me with a shrewd grin. My hand slips on the door handle of the car as blood careens inside my veins. “I—I didn’t do anything with him.”

The sound of the doors unlocking makes me jump, and her grin widens. “Right.”

As much as I like Beatrice, I could never trust her with something like this. All it would take was one word from her to my father and I’d be fucked. She needs to understand that nothing happened.

I wrench open the car door and slide in next to her. For a moment there’s nothing but the sound of her keys as she slides them into the ignition. She won’t even look at me.

“Hey. Nothing happened.”

I touch her shoulder and finally she turns her head around. “I came with you here because you seemed determined to piss off your dad, and because you needed someone to watch over you.”

Anger rustles in my chest. “I have enough of that at home, Beatrice. I don’t need it from my cousin.”

“Actually, you do. You’re the president of the MC’s daughter. Every time you step outside, you put yourself at risk—”

“We’re allied with the mob!”

“That doesn’t matter!”

Her sharp voice rings in my ears, bouncing within the walls of the car. I look down at my lap and clench my hands.

“They’re no good, Maya—and whatever you did in that office with that guy—”

“Shut the fuck up!”

I lean over my seat, raising my fists as Beatrice backs up against the car door, looking at them with widened eyes.

“You’re right, I’m the president’s daughter. I told you that nothing happened and that should be good enough for you.”

I’ll pound her fucking face in if she makes another stupid comment. Beatrice eyes my hands, a scowl twisting her face. “You don’t have to be a bitch.”

“If you say a word to anyone, I’ll beat your fucking face in. Understand?”

She says nothing as my heart pounds against my chest. Threats are a way of life in the MC. There’s no getting around the fact that we both grew up knee-deep in violence. I watched my mom beat the shit out of some poor girl she found in my dad’s bed. As the president’s daughter, I’ve had to flex my power a few times to keep the other girls in line.

I do whatever the fuck I want, and you’re not going to stop me. Bitch.

Beatrice backs down, the fire disappearing from her eyes as she starts the car.

It’s important to watch their eyes for the change. She needs to respect me, and for that, she needs to fear me.

And I can see her hair trembling around her face.

I won.

* * *

My cousin and I glance at each other as we gaze up the concrete walls of the bunker we call home. Getting back inside the compound isn’t too hard. It just takes stopping at a gas station and changing out of your slutty clothes, so that your dad won’t know you went out partying instead of shopping like you said you were.

She lays on the horn, and I wince at the sound. The guards walking the walls recognize us and wave their hands. The massive steel doors shriek as they roll to the side, and Beatrice pushes on the gas pedal to move us inside.

“Your dad would freak out if he knew about that Italian guy.”

Just the mention of him sends a rush of heat to my skin that suddenly makes me feel sick. Yes, Dad would fucking flip out. He would march over to that bar and put a bullet in his head, all for the crime of being Italian and hitting on his daughter.

“I thought I told you to shut up about it.”

“Relax. My ass is on the line, too.”

My ruffled feathers settle down somewhat as we park in the compound and step out of her car. I imagine how odd the sight of this place must look to an outsider. Reinforced steel and concrete, barbed wire, and men patrolling the borders with guns big enough to shoot you in the ass a mile away. They wear their leather cuts with “THE DEVILS” emblazoned in a white font.

We walk together over the paved concrete toward the clubhouse where we both live. It’s always loud in there, filled with smoke and drunk assholes. Whores occasionally fill the entire place when my dad thinks that his men need another fucking party where everyone gets wasted. Then it’s inevitably the women’s job to clean up the mess. The puke. The beer bottles. The cigarette butts. Jesus Christ, I’m sick of it.

Sounds like there’s another party going on. The walls rattle with rock music and I’m greeted with the sight of scantily clad women. They wear pasties and G-strings as they strut around the club, grinding on the members as the prospects keep watch or pour drinks.

I’ve seen so much shit that it hardly fazes me, but the irony doesn’t escape me. I’m surrounded by sex, and yet I can’t have any. Daddy won’t let me date any outsiders, and because he’s president I have to do what he says.

Everyone does what he fucking says.

Beatrice spots Paul, one of the prospects she has a crush on, and joins him at the bar with a wide smile on her face. Unlike me, Beatrice doesn’t have a burning desire to leave this fucking place. In a few years she’ll get married to one of these assholes and spend the rest of her life trapped in this concrete hellhole.

I make my way through the maze of the clubhouse, finding my room in the back, which is across from my dad’s. Of course. I open the door and shut it, wishing that I had a lock. Then I grab the too-small dress from my purse. I borrowed it from Beatrice, and a hot blush fills my cheeks when I realized how bad the fit was on me. Even Johnny said so.

“Your tits are popping out of your dress.”

Instant heat spreads across my chest. He looked at me as though I was a piece of meat. I was desirable. I can’t remember the last time a man expressed interest in me. The only men I hang around with are part of the club, and they don’t dare hit on the president’s daughter. Not that I’m interested in any of them.

The door bursts open, swinging inside as I fling the dress away from me in surprise, looking up into the eyes of my livid father.

He stands up straight, but I can tell that he’s already fucked up. Red-rimmed eyes bore at me as he clutches the frame of the door.

“Maya, where the fuck have you been? Julien tells me that you just got in.”

“I told you, Beatrice and I went out for shopping and a movie.”

He stares at me for a little longer and nods, almost accepting the lie, and then his eagle-like eyes fall on the discarded dress.

“What the hell is that?”

I try to stuff it out of sight with my foot, but he reaches down and snatches it.

It would almost be funny to see the horror transforming his face as he lifts up the skimpy dress, imagining it on me.

Almost.

“You fucking lying bitch. You wore this and went out to party, didn’t you?”

“I—I didn’t—”

My father’s grizzled face comes within inches of mine as he inhales.

Is he sniffing me?

His nostrils flare as he catches a whiff of my perfume and smoke and God knows what else.

“You went to a bar, didn’t you? Wearing this thing?”

I hate how he makes me feel ashamed just for putting on a stupid dress and feeling alive for once in my goddamn life.

Yes, I did, and I met an Italian I almost had sex with.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The acidic tone cuts right through me. He acts as though I committed treason.

“What, I can’t go out like a regular person and have a good time?”

“You’re not a regular person!” he bellows. “You’re my daughter, and I won’t have you acting like some fucking slut!”

How dare he?

“So you’re allowed to fuck strippers behind Mom’s back, but I’m not allowed to go on a date with someone I like?”

His biceps ripple over his leather cut as his knuckles turn white, clenching the dress so hard that I’m sure he’ll leave holes.

Fuck him.

Fuck the MC.

His hand blurs in front of me, too fast to follow, and suddenly my cheek burns with a vicious slap. My body falls over my bed with the weight of the blow. I’m too stunned to sit back up.

He hit me. Dad never hits me.

Heavy boots creak the floorboards as he walks to the edge of the bed, venom spitting from his mouth. “Don’t talk to me like I’m your fucking friend.”

Believe me, I don’t think you’re my friend.

“Your job is to stay here and look after the kids. That’s it.”

A boiling feeling makes me sit up abruptly. “I don’t want to look after someone else’s brat. I want to go on dates.”

Even Dad can’t ignore that I’m a twenty-two-year-old woman. That I’m going to attract male attention, and that every cell in my body is screaming for a man’s touch.

I want sex.

Is that such a crime?

The hard lines in his face don’t fade. I can see it in his eyes: the bastard thinks I’m asking for too much.

“There are plenty of good men here for you to date.”

Good men? You mean the ones that peddle crack to kids?

“And I’ve told you that I’m not interested in them.”

“I won’t have a daughter of mine dating an outsider.”

The unfairness of it all seethes in my chest. I’m not a submissive person. I buck against authority and do whatever the hell I want. Always have.

Fuck, do you know what it’s like being horny as fuck, but having no way of satisfying yourself? I can’t even masturbate because my door doesn’t have a lock.

“You can’t keep me here forever, Dad. I’m going to go to beauty school—”

He wipes his hand over his face. “Waste of fucking money.”

“I’m going to do what I want, because it’s my life and only I get to choose what I get to do. Not you. Not Mom. Me.”

He stands in the middle of my shabby room as at least a decade’s worth of hostility hangs between us like an electric cloud.

“You’re a stubborn little bitch, Maya. You know you can’t leave the club. The Popeyes, hell, the mob would love to get their hands on you.”

Maybe I want their hands all over me, Dad.

I think of Johnny and how much I enjoyed his hands all over me. Desire simmers in my stomach. He was slim and handsome—almost too perfect looking in his fitted suit, his hair gently slicked back. He caught my attention the moment I saw him walking toward me, that small smirk tugging at his lips, which were just begging to be kissed. Then he got rid of the guy hitting on me. I don’t know how he did that, but damn. The balls on that guy.

It was fucking hot.

Everything about him felt intoxicating, and I had to work really hard to appear in control. Johnny seems like just the type to take advantage of any weakness. His hands on my waist made me so wet that I was afraid it would soak through my panties. Then his hot lips touched mine and he actually shoved his tongue into my mouth, right in front of anyone.

It’s all I’ll ever think about again.

It’s stupid, I know. Beatrice and I heard rumors the bar was connected with the Mafia. It might be true, but I convinced her to go anyway. I didn’t expect anything to come out of it. Maybe I was desperate for a bit of harmless flirting, but every dirty word that flew out of Johnny’s mouth turned me on.

The side of my face still burns as I sit on my bed, forced to a sitting position as my dad takes a step closer, flinging the dress at my face.

God, I hate him.

I’ll take classes at the beauty school I picked out and upgrade from my job at the café. I’ll become a hair stylist and finally get enough money for my own place.

Then I can get the hell out of here.

“Are you done? Can you get out of my room?”

Don’t fucking push it.

Dad’s bushy eyebrows narrow even farther. I can’t suppress a shiver when he turns his face, that horribly pitted scar like a crater in his skin. I’ve never been afraid of my father. All my life it’s been push and pull. Seeing how much I can get away with. He smacked around my mom enough to make me hate him. Sometimes I hate myself for being too much of a coward to try to stop him from laying one more hand on my mom’s face. He stopped doing it years ago, when he became president and wanted to clean up his image. It was enough to stop him from hitting his wife, but not enough to stop his bikers from peddling crack to kids at school.

“Tony wants a haircut tomorrow.”

“Tony can cut his own goddamn hair.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

“I’m not cutting anyone’s hair for free anymore. My time is not a fucking charity—”

“You’ll do what I say, or you’ll get another hand across your face.”

I stand up from the bed, knowing that he won’t do it. He’s already regretting his words. Doubt flickers in his eyes.

“I want in-and-out privileges. I don’t want to ask you permission to go to the store or to my work.”

Someone crashes through the hallway, stomping noisily. I catch a flash of a half-naked stripper clinging to a patched member, and my blood boils.

His smiling face turns back toward me. “No.”

* * *

No.

It’s a word I’ve heard my whole goddamn life: no.

No, I’m not going to buy that for you. No, I’m not taking you to practice. No, I’m not paying for fucking school. No, no, no.

I fucking hate that word.

Even worse is that smug look on my father’s face when he denies something that I really want. Something I’ve been saving up for a long time, like the beauty school classes.

I used to cry my fucking eyes out. Scream with rage and pound my fists on the walls so that everyone in the club could hear how much of a spoiled brat I was, but I didn’t care. Mom would argue with him, would try to take pity on me—to allow me this one, small thing. No.

Then I swallowed it down over the years. Did whatever Dad said, because it was easier. Pretending not to care and building up walls around myself was easier than letting myself feel how powerless I am.

But I just can’t take it this time.

I pace inside the small room Dad cleared up for me in the garage. It’s a quartered-off space with a couple sinks for washing hair, a chair, and a giant, old mirror. I yank open the drawers, looking at the scissors arranged neatly side by side. They rattle as I slam it shut.

All of it is fucking useless if I can’t go to beauty school and get the hell out of here. Otherwise, what’s the fucking point?

What’s the point of practicing on these douchebags?

Blood pounds through my limbs as I seize a heavy hair dryer. I look at myself in the mirror. A girl with widened eyes and shaking lips stares back at me.

She looks weak.

I hurl the dryer at the mirror. It shatters and swings from the nails on the wall, crashing to the concrete. That’s not enough. I stomp on the shards, grinding them to dust under my boots. Fuck him and this place.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Mom’s shrill voice stabs my ears before I feel her hand seizing my shoulder roughly.

“He’s trying to keep me here like some fucking pet!”

Mom crosses her arms over her low-cut black t-shirt, tossing her head to shake the dark hair from her eyes. “Everybody has a place in this club.”

I grit my teeth. “I never wanted this. Since I was a kid, I wanted to be normal.”

She reaches up and cuffs the side of my head like a bear swatting one of her cubs. “That’s enough.”

It’s not nearly enough.

“He’s a piece of shit—he thinks he can just lock me inside—”

“Go, then. If you want to live out there so badly, just leave. Leave and see what happens.”

The hollow feeling in my chest gapes open. Everything falls inside. Every hope I have for myself drowns in that emptiness.

“You know you can’t leave, baby. I know it’s hard, but everything he does is for your protection. He loves you.”

Mom touches my face and pushes back my thick hair, looking at me under dark lashes. That’s how she always is: a rising tide or a gentle lull. Crashing down on you one moment and then kissing you on the cheek the other.

“He doesn’t love me. He just wants to control me.”

I brush past my mom, the broken pieces snapping under my boots. The satisfying sound doesn’t quite take the edge off my anger, but it helps.

I’m going back to that bar, and I’m going to fuck the shit out of that guy.

I decide it the moment I step into the sunshine. If Dad’s determined to keep me imprisoned, I’m going to make his life hell, starting with giving myself to the hottest Italian guy I’ve ever seen.

* * *

Sneaking out twice in the same week isn’t hard, but it requires a little bit of finesse. And guile.

I shove my hands deep inside my pockets as I approach Julien at the gate, the sunshine glaring through the thick steel bars and casting long shadows on the ground. They crawl up my body in long, dark strips like the bars of a prison cell. How appropriate.

He’s a newly patched member, and he’s eager to please. The older members are used to me pulling shit, always trying to run a scam by them, but not Julien.

I lay my arm across my face to shield my eyes from the sun and he turns around with a little jump.

“Hey, um—listen, I need to go outside for a while. Just for a bit.”

His thick arms cross over his chest as he watches me. “Why?”

I bite my lip. “Um—I’d rather not say. It’s really embarrassing.”

“I’m sorry, but I need to know why if you want to leave.”

Then I lean in, my hair hanging around my face. “Well—I just got my period and we’re out of tampons.”

It’s the magic word.

Julien’s face immediately burns a bright shade of red as he wraps his arms around himself, taking small steps backward. “Uh—well—”

Poor, poor Julien.

I adopt an uncertain tone. “You could get them for me, I guess. I was just going to pop off to the store and get some.”

“No! I mean—yeah, I’ll open the gate. Give me a second.”

A grateful smile spreads across my face as I thank him and head to my car.

Sucker.

I don’t plan on coming back. Not for a very long time. Daddy will just have to deal with the fact that his daughter likes to have sex. With men. I know, it’s a shocker.

Parking at the nearest subway station, I take the train into Montreal. I don’t want to deal with the parking in the city, and taking the metro is just another snub at Dad. Even using the subway was forbidden to me.

My stomach churns as I think about what I’ll say to Johnny when I finally meet him. He told me not to come back to his bar.

I feel lighter than I have in ages when I get out at a stop with a bunch of shopping. There’s not much in my bank account, but I splurge so rarely that I don’t really feel guilty for trying on new dresses.

Maybe he’ll change his mind if I look like this.

In the department store, I look at myself in a sexy little summer dress. It’s a bright-red knit with an art deco design, and it clings to my every curve. Dark eyeliner makes my eyes pop, and my hair shines with the new ginger conditioner that I bought. I look sexy, damn it. No, I’m not model-thin, but who gives a shit?

Fuck yes. I’m buying this.

I walk out of the dressing room still wearing the dress, my black gladiator heels clicking on the floor.

My confidence is blazing when the girl at the register compliments how it looks as I buy it, even as I walk out into the dim early evening as men whistle at me from across the street. It feels different to be free, and I’m too angry to care about the shit I’ll have to deal with when I return home. The summer night is nice and balmy, and everywhere there are couples.

I pass by that bar, already bustling with people, and my heart slams into my chest so hard that I feel dizzy. All of a sudden my confidence bursts like a needle to a balloon.

A group of handsomely dressed people stream out of the bar and dig through their pockets to find cigarettes.

This is stupid. I can’t go back in there. He’ll laugh in my face. Besides, I don’t even know what to say—

You’re going to give up now? Coward.

I imagine myself turning tail and heading home, of making up some excuse to Julien why I was gone so long, and my stomach sinks. Failure isn’t an option. I want to go home with that man. Christ, I want to feel him inside me. The last time I had sex was years ago. Years of pent-up, unsatisfied urges, unable to touch myself in my own bed. The thought of another few years of this is too depressing to contemplate.

It’ll just be one time.

Yes, one wild night to remember.

I march through the open doors of the bar, straight into the thick of conversation and music. I wipe my hands on my dress and wade through the crowd of testosterone. Male heads whip around at me. There are so many here to choose from, but I only want one man.

The man who promised me that he’d make me come hard over his cock.

Is he even here?

I belly up to the bar, avoiding the gaze of the pretty bartender. A chorus of deep male laughter captures my attention. Four dark-haired men in suits hang near the bar, and the breath catches in my throat as I recognize one of them.

Johnny raises a shot glass to his wet lips, throws back his head, and swallows the clear liquid. My heart skips a beat when he licks the salt off his hand. His tongue drags on his skin, and a line of pleasure runs straight to the space between my legs. Goddamn, he makes drinking a shot of tequila look sexy. I want that tongue on my skin.

So what now? Do I just go up to him or do I puss out and order a drink?

If you don’t approach him, someone else will.

The thought sends a jolt of electricity through my legs, and I head straight for him. Even though the bar is crowded, it’s easy to navigate this place. I watch as his head turns, staring at the cocktail waitress’ ass. She sets down drinks for them and walks away.

Don’t look at me.

Don’t look at me.

Scorching black eyes pass over the heads in the bar, and then they crawl up my figure. They flicker back.

Fuck, he looked at me.

I can’t begin to describe the intensity of his eyes. They’re like some kind of personification of a lion’s stalking gaze. Everything about him doesn’t seem entirely human, from the perfectly slicked-back hair to his spotless appearance. He’s too perfect to believe. Then it suddenly hits me: no way this guy is just a bar owner. And my palms sweat as that realization drops into my head.

I want to bolt in the other direction, despite the fact that I just don’t get nervous around men anymore. Why’s he so different? I can’t figure him out.

I’m still shaking as I weave in between his men, inserting myself into that circle of testosterone as Johnny’s eyes lock onto my face.

He looks gorgeous as he lounges on that bar stool. Clean shaven, not a stray strand of hair, and that tantalizing V of skin right below his neck, revealing his tanned skin and a sprinkling of dark hair. He looks at me, recognition dawning on his face as a slight frown knits his eyebrows.

“I thought I told you not to come back to this bar.”

Oh fuck.

My pulse races ahead and I almost want to take a step back from him, that’s how forbidding he looks.

“Relax, hon. I’m just joking. I knew you’d come back.”

Heat rises in my cheeks as deep dimples carve into his face.

Cocky son of a bitch.

He turns his head, addressing the guys around him. “She told me she didn’t fuck Italians.”

Laughter explodes around me. I knew it would happen—I expected it. Hell, I deserve it for turning him down.

He sits with his hands on his knees, grinning at me like the Cheshire cat as his friends laugh and laugh their asses off. “Some balls!” one of them yells.

Johnny’s speech is a bit heavier than usual from the alcohol, but his eyes look just as sharp. “Couldn’t resist a bit of Italian sausage, am I right, sweetheart?”

I roll my eyes at the crude banter. If he thinks he’s going to offend me with that shit, he’s wrong. I’ve heard worse. I’ve heard a thousand times worse. Hell, I grew up around a bunch of foul-mouthed bikers. This is child’s play.

Still, that deserves a brushing off.

“You know what?”

The corners of his lips pull, and I hate how my heart does a little flip when I see it directed toward me. “What?”

“I think you’re right. My pussy is too good for your cock.” I flash a grin at his stunned face. “Bye.”

Then I turn around and walk about two feet before my body stumbles backward into something solid and warm. A hand grasps my arm and yanks me back.

The air from my chest disappears as his strong hands turn my body around so that I’m facing him, crushed against his chest. Still smiling, he leans in until his lips are brushing my ear. If I thought I was uncomfortably warm before, it’s nothing compared to now. My whole body heats up like a furnace, responding to his touch.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The growl in his voice takes me aback for a moment. I wonder if it’s another joke, but it doesn’t feel like it when his fingers are pinching me. Jesus, I’ve never met such an intense person in my life.

Despite the fact that I’m just waiting for him to turn his face and brush his lips against mine, I push his chest. “I’m going to find someone else who won’t humiliate me in front of his friends.”

“You started it.”

Whatever.

His eyes light up with mischief. “That’s the only reason why you’re here, isn’t it? You’re pissed off at Daddy, and the greatest revenge you can think of is to suck my cock.”

Yeah, that’s about the size of it.

“You want me thrusting inside you, filling you up with my cum. You want to be defiled by me. Don’t you?”

Sweet Jesus, yes.

I want to have one wild night with him. Not because he’s Italian. Not because I want revenge. Because I haven’t gotten laid in years, and he’s the most seductive, sinful man I’ve ever met. He’s just a bar owner, but he acts as though he’s larger than life. The confidence. The sexiness. Trash flies from his mouth, and my pussy gets wet. I don’t understand it.

I want to strip off my clothes right now.

“I want—I want a good time. You look like you’re good.”

He takes my chin between his forefingers, and I feel like some kind of pathetic puppet. Dark eyes dance at me. “You bet your sweet ass, I am.”

Warm breath mists over my face, and I’m waiting for him to kiss me. All train of thought halts to a standstill as he touches my waist. The warmth from his hand burns through my dress as though it were made of silk. His hand. On my waist. Oh, he just squeezed me.

Fuck, he’s talking.

“Maya?” he says with laughter in his voice. “Did you hear a word I just said, or were you thinking about how badly you want my cock inside you?”

No, you’re letting him get overconfident.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Yes,” he says, eyes flashing. “I can do many things with my mouth. I think you’ll find that I’m very talented.”

His arms wind around me slowly, like a snake coiling around its prey. I’m slipping into some kind of coma, trapped in this guy’s arms. His jacket smells like cedar, but there’s not a hint of cigarette smoke, despite this bar being full of it.

“Talented at what?”

But I already know the answer. I already know it from the smile on his face, as he drops closer and closer, his hands locking me into place now. His lips hover over mine, and I stand still as if paralyzed.

“Eating out your pussy.”

I can feel it clenching tight at his words. Eating me out? I’ve never experienced a man’s tongue and mouth down there, but now I’m imagining his dark head bobbing between my legs.

Then his hands unwind from my hips and he steps back with a pleasant smile, the warmth gone.

What the fuck?

“Want a drink?”

The suggestion makes me angry. He stands in front of me, humor in his eyes as I cross my arms over my chest. His guy friends are still eyeing me, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ve been waiting way too long for this, and if he won’t give me a one-night stand, I’ll find someone else who will.

My voice erupts in the middle of the bar. “No, I don’t want a drink. I want you to take me home and fuck me.”

My raised voice catches the attention of his friends, sitting nearby. One of them looks at me with a slack-jawed expression as the bar goes suddenly silent, the patrons wheeling around to look at the crazy girl.

“Jesus Christ, Johnny,” one of them says as he eyes me. “If you’re not banging her, I will.”

A smattering of laughter rings out, and the noise returns to normal levels.

My very ears are burning.

Johnny’s voice darkens as he shoots the man a warning look. “Don’t be an asshole.”

It’s weird. The man gives Johnny a cowed look and mumbles an apology to me. Johnny turns his attention back to me, hitching up a smile on his face. He tries to act cool, but I can see the hunger blazing in his eyes.

“Why the fuck should I? You insulted me last night.”

My laughter chokes my throat. “What are you, the Godfather or something? I insulted you because I didn’t want to fuck you?”

“You’re a real smart-ass. You know what you did.” His grin widens. “I could have any piece of ass in this room. Why should I waste my time with you?”

I take a bold step forward, showing him that I’m not afraid of him despite whatever the fuck he thinks he has to prove. I take his tie in my hands, watching how his eyes flicker over my lips.

“Because I’m the hottest piece of ass in the room.”

A smile tiptoes over his face, and there’s real laughter in it, unlike the condescending grin he keeps wearing.

I pull his tie slowly, his head inching toward mine, and he lets me draw his face in. His lips crash against mine, tongue darting inside my mouth to taste me. A shock zaps through his lips into mine, running all the way down my back in a delicious line. He still tastes like tequila. Fingernails slightly dig into my scalp as he fists my hair and forces my mouth against his. I lean into him as every part of me starts to heat up. It’s as though my body’s waking up after a long sleep, and he feels amazing and it’s just kissing. I’m not going to regret this.

When he pulls back, it’s not because either of us wants to. It’s just to breathe. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “All right. Let’s get out of here.”

He pulls away from me for a moment to whisper something in that guy’s ear, and then he returns to my side, wrapping his arm around my waist. He digs his phone out of his slacks and makes a call.

“Chris. I need you to pick me up. All right.”

Then he ends the call and shoves it back into his pocket.

There’s just so much that doesn’t add up about this guy.

He pulls me toward the exit, never letting me go for a second. A black Audi pulls up to the curb and Johnny lets me go to open the door for me like a perfect gentleman. Man, he’s so different from the guys back home. I feel heat emanating from him as I walk past him and slide into the backseat. He joins me, his thighs pressing against mine.

“Take me home, Chrissy.”

The driver, a young guy wearing a leather jacket, nods and pulls the car away from the curb. How strange. The driver isn’t wearing any kind of professional clothing. For some reason it makes me a little nervous.

Fuck it. Who cares?

I want to think about his hand casually resting on my leg, his fingers wrapping around my knee, and the thrill that it gives me. He looks at my legs, my thighs, my tits, as if he’s deciding what he’s going to do with me. It’s a bit awkward with the other man in the car, but Johnny doesn’t seem to care.

We drive back to his place in silence. It’s a bit unnerving, and the closer we get to his home, the harder it is to ignore my frantic heartbeat. He kneads my thigh, inching up higher, dragging my dress over my skin as I turn sideways. He tips my head back with a single finger under my jaw and his lips fall over mine. They start out soft, at first, oddly restrained, and then they’re hard and biting. He slides one of his hands up my waist and grabs me roughly, as if he can’t decide which part he should focus on. I gasp into his mouth as his palm slides between my breasts. He grabs one of my tits—just groping it roughly, sliding his thumb over my peaking nipple.

“Tabarnak, your tits.”

My face burns scarlet, or I imagine that it does. Suddenly I’m reminded of the driver’s presence and I pull away from Johnny, returning my hands to my lap. His arm stretches behind my head, his fingers tickling the back of my neck. I burn at the sight of amusement on his face.

We finally arrive at what looks like his high-rise apartment.

“Thanks, Chris.”

“No problem.”

He doesn’t pay the guy. Huh.

I take Johnny’s hand and climb out of the car as he waves goodbye. The car rolls away, and a jolt of fear suddenly hits me as he guides me toward the lobby.

I can count on my hand how many times I’ve had sex, and never before have I had a one-night stand. I want him, but I still feel racked with nerves. He’s too gorgeous, too slick. My confidence can barely keep up with him.

It’s too late.

The elevator doors slide open, and I’m lulled into a false sense of security.

“I’m starting to think that you’re not just a bar owner.”

Johnny leans his back against the mirrored wall, grinning wickedly. “Yeah? What gave you that idea?”

“Everyone treats you like you’re a king.”

This time he really does laugh. It rebounds sharply in the elevator, and he pushes himself off the wall, advancing upon me like a predator. Until my breaths get short and I have a hard time focusing.

“Maybe I am.”

Oh God.

“Ever think about that?”

He’s connected. No fucking way.

An icy feeling spreads inside my chest as he pulls me against his body roughly without giving me any time to respond.

This is what you wanted, remember? You went to that bar because you knew Dad hated Italians, and what’s worse than an Italian?

A Mafioso.

It all fits—the bad-boy attitude, acting as though nothing in the world can take him down, his fucking ego, and the guys sucking up to him.

Oh shit. Oh God.

I’ve no idea how high up he is, but he’s a soldier, at least. He’s a made member. I’m sure of it.

Dad would fucking kill him. And me.

The elevator pings open and I’m half-tempted to think of some kind of excuse to bail, because this is nuts. I’m the daughter of the president of the Devils MC, and he’s in the mob. I almost want to laugh at how panicky I am right now. The other, louder part of me wants to do it anyway. It’s wrong. It’s exciting. I’ve already gone too far.

He leads me down the hall, and still I haven’t made a move to suggest that maybe we should call this whole thing off. Save my fucking skin and his.

Instead I let him pull me into the darkness of his apartment. Into that horribly terrifying silence that simmers with desire. It’s always the most awkward part of first dates. The whens and the hows are torturous. When should I kiss him? I could handle him if he was an ordinary man, but he’s the opposite.

He’s a predator.

Like a black hole, he’s the brightest thing in the universe. I could pick him out in a crowd instantly. Get too close and you’re dead. You’re gone.

He shuts the door and locks it. The moment I hear the locks slide home, I know I’m fucked.

Johnny’s face seems different in the darkness. There’s no levity, just a humorless look and a predatory stare. It makes my heart jump in my chest. Then he flicks on the light, illuminating a vast, gorgeous apartment.

Ok, he’s definitely not just a bar owner.

“Wow.”

I turn around, impressed by how richly decorated the place is. He’s not some kind of rich frat boy. He’s got style. A blood-red abstract painting hangs near the entrance. I walk deeper inside, checking out the modern furniture. And what’s more, the whole place is pristine. I can’t see a speck of dust anywhere. It’s fucking creepy.

No guy on earth is this clean.

I wander around his living room and sit down on one of his couches, to see him still standing near the door, half-hidden in shadows.

My chest deflates.

I expected my clothes to fly off the moment we walked through the door, but he takes deliberate steps into the living room, turns toward the stocked bar he has, and pours us both drinks.

Ice clinks in the glasses as he walks to where I’m sitting, balancing the drinks in one hand, giving me a strange look. He offers me mine and I take it just to do something with my hands. The drink slips down his throat as he eye-fucks me, standing close enough to touch me.

It’s unsettling.

“What’s that look?”

“I can’t figure you out.”

The glass table makes a sharp sound when he sets his drink down, and then he plants his hands on either side of my head. I sink into the fabric as his face comes within inches of mine. Heart pounding in my ears, I can barely make out what he says to me.

“You really have no idea who I am?”

His breath mists over my face and I’m so tempted to lean the few inches forward and catch his lips in mine. I lick my lips.

“Are you going to fuck me, or what?”

A smile flickers. “I asked you a question.”

“No, and I don’t want to know.”

Puzzlement makes his eyebrows knit together and I take a gulp of whatever drink he brought me, the amber liquid burning down my throat.

He slides into the couch next to me, the sound of the leather fabric oddly loud in my ears. He doesn’t touch me. It drives me crazy. The alcohol spreads a flush over my chest, and I’m just about out of patience.

“I don’t trust easily. I don’t trust at all—and I feel like you’re hiding something from me.”

“What makes you say that?”

A snort leaves his nostrils. “It’s my job to sniff out people trying to pull a fast one on me. The world’s filled with people trying to fuck you over.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“I don’t want to fuck you over. I want to fuck you.”

He looks forbidding, but I ignore his body language, which tells me to stay the fuck away. I get up from the couch and stand between his legs. He watches me with the air of a wolf scenting a prey animal, and my blood pounds in my neck. My fingers take the hem of my dress and I pull it right off my body. It slowly drags over my thighs, exposing my black silk panties. His face goes slack as he watches the edge of the dress rise over the swell of my breasts.

Yes, look at me.

Desire pounds between my legs as I reach behind myself and unclasp the bra, a thrill shooting through me from rendering Johnny speechless. His eyes are glued to my tits and then my hands, gently tugging at my panties. They snag over my hips.

Something snaps in his eyes. Suddenly he leans forward and grabs my waist, yanking me forward. The panties are halfway down my thighs, but he makes me straddle his legs. There’s a ripping sound and I realize the panties have a tear in them. I gasp as he takes them in his hands and rips them off my body with one quick jerk.

Fucking hot.

Warmth floods my pussy as he wraps his arms around my naked skin. I arch my back, and his face bumps against my tits. His tongue darts out, sending a shock through me as he swirls around my nipple. Then he bites down on the hardened nub.

I’ve never done anything like this before with a man I barely know. I’ve never wanted to strip away all my vulnerabilities. He thinks I’m hiding something from him, and he’s right, but I’m not giving that up. I don’t want to ruin this night. If he finds out who my father is, he’ll ends things now. That, I’m sure of.

My thighs rub against the coarse fabric of his suit as I wrap my arms around his neck, burying my fingers in his thick, dark hair. His hot mouth takes my breast and he bites down on the flesh, letting out wicked laughter when it pops out of his lips. “You think you can distract me with tits?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes are fractured. There’s a battle in them. Pride versus lust.

The hand cradling my ass suddenly disappears, and reappears in a loud slap. My skin burns as the sound cracks across the room as Johnny looks greedily at my body.

“Fuck, you are gorgeous. And right.”

I’m temporarily paralyzed with the sensation of being naked in his arms. Hard fingers grope my tits, making me arch against him. He grabs a hunk of my hair and pulls me toward his lips, and they devour me.

It’s carnal, as if he hasn’t fucked a woman in years. I love it.

“I’m going to make you mine tonight. Just for one night, sweetheart.”

Then his hand dips from my breast down my stomach, all the way to my aching core. He cups my pussy and rides his middle finger over my clit.

“Already wet, huh? When’s the last time you’ve been with a man?”

My face burns and I consider lying for a moment, but what’s the point? “Years,” I mumble.

His middle finger doesn’t pause. It slides inside me. “Jesus. No wonder.”

I tighten my arms around him, uttering a small moan when I feel my walls tighten around the two digits, aching for something thick and hard. His cock is right there. The outline of him grows in his pants. Jesus, he’s huge. I reach down and wrap my fingers around him, and it twitches inside my grip.

I lean forward and grasp his head, brushing back his hair and running my fingers along his stubble as I kiss him. Every ounce of passion and need explodes out of me. He just keeps fingering me calmly, the wet sound driving me insane. I want him naked—I want all of him.

“Please, Johnny!”

He smiles against my lips. “I’m going to give you a night you’ll never forget. First, I’m going to fuck you really hard. I’ll make your cunt numb, just like you wanted.” His fingers twist inside me and another jolt of pleasure rips through me, making me yell out loud. “Then I’m going to make you come with my tongue. I’ll fuck you again, and again, and when you go home tomorrow to your daddy, you can tell him that Johnny Cravotta fucked his little daughter.”

Oh Jesus. The things he’s saying. It’s so—wait a second. I know that name.

Who fucking cares?

“How does that sound?”

His smooth voice invades my ears, the only noise I hear besides my own wetness sliding around his fingers.

“Tha-that sounds—ah!”

His fingers slam into my pussy, a third one inside me. Johnny’s soft laughter rebounds around his living room.

Finally he pulls out of me and wipes his fingers on my thigh. Then his hand splays on my neck and pushes me down so quickly that the air is knocked out of my chest. My back sinks into the couch cushions as he stands up, gazing down at my naked body with unmistakable greed.

“Touch yourself. I want to watch you.”

A blush creeps up my face as my hand tentatively curls around my thigh.

He puts a hand on my knee and pulls it apart from the other. “Spread those gorgeous legs apart so I can see your pussy.”

It’s rare that a guy gives me orders. Even rarer that I follow them, but the authority ringing from his voice is impossible to ignore. He’s the first man who has ever made me want to obey him.

I spread my knees farther apart as I lower my hand over my pussy, sliding my fingers down the slick skin. Johnny sits down on the glass table, feet from me. He touches himself, and another bump of excitement adds to the fire. I’ve never seen a guy do that before. He curves his hand around his thickening cock and strokes it through his slacks, which are uncomfortably tight.

“I want you to imagine me inside you.”

But I don’t care about me. I want him. And I’ve never been good at listening.

I slide off the couch, ignoring his angry commands as I kneel at his feet and wrap my hands around his belt.

Redness flushes his skin as I grab him through his slacks, tugging the belt out of its loops as Johnny loses the fight to get me to do what he wants.

“Please. I want to suck your cock.”

I want him to lose control. I want him to forget who he is and what he’s doing. Wild, unbridled desire.

His hand cups my cheek, his thumb caressing my bottom lip. “Some fucking day, you’re not going to get what you want.”

But I always do.

He lifts his hips and I drag the slacks from his waist. They pool at his feet. Damn, Johnny is hiding an amazing body. He’s lean and all muscle, but not bulky, which I like. His dick sticks out of his black briefs like a flesh-colored flag. I pull his briefs off his hips, and then that delectable cock springs free. I grip it in my hand, marveling at the warmth.

He clucks with sympathy, running a hand through my hair. “You must be starving for cock.”

Yes, I am.

“I’ll let you have a little taste.”

Then he shoves my head down, his fingers digging into my hair as my lips bump against his head and open wide. He passes through them, so thick and firm. It’s been fucking years, but I grip the base of his cock, taking him all the way inside me. My lips suck hard near the tip and I look at Johnny’s face as I do it. His eyes close in rapture and he wets his lips, keeping his hand fisted in my hair.

“Ah, fuck yes.”

He lifts his hips in a thrust as my lips glide down his length. Holy shit, I can’t believe how turned-on I am. His teeth clench as I take him all the way inside me, his balls flush against my lips.

“Criss.”

I feel his cock twitch inside me, and I wrap my other arm around his thighs, his hair tickling my palm. I anchor solidly over his ass, feeling my core clench as his moans hit the ceiling. His breathing deepens as my lips tighten around him, gliding up and down, swirling my tongue over his swollen head. It turns me on to see his red face trained on mine, lust burning through his skin. I let him pop out of me and slide his cock over my lips.

In a few swift movements, Johnny picks me up and hurls me over the couch. He tears off his jacket with an animalistic growl. My heart leaps as his body falls over mine, my legs wrapping around his solid waist.

Fear careens through my veins, battling with the aching need to be fucked. It’s been too long. I can’t wait anymore.

He reaches back and I feel the head of his cock sliding against my folds and an overwhelming blaze of lust almost makes me scream.

He sinks inside me with a grunt. The head pushes through my slick walls, and ecstasy washes all over me. I forgot how amazing it felt to have a man inside me. How did I wait this long?

It throbs inside me, so big that it hurts to feel him thrust. His tie dangles around his muscled neck and I spread my hands underneath his shirt collar. I want to touch every inch of his skin.

“Your pussy feels so good.”

The ragged voice sends a rush of excitement to my chest. He slides out and ruts me deep, all restraint forgotten. My clit hums with the pleasant burn of his cock riding up against it. I’ve never felt something so amazing in my life, but I don’t want to come—not yet. I grab the tie dangling in my face and pull his grinning face down. He knows exactly what’s going on.

He thrusts hard as my lips crush against his. He kisses me back in a frenzy as I groan into his mouth.

“That’s it, baby. Moan for me.”

My fingernails dig into his back as he takes one of my tits and roughly squeezes it, pinching the nipple as his cock hammers my cunt.

“Johnny, you should stop.”

“Why?”

“I’m about to come. Please.”

But of course the bastard does the opposite. The grin on his face widens as he wraps his arms around my shoulders and fucks me for all I’m worth. I try to fight against the building pressure inside my core.

His mouth seals over mine, his tongue forces down my throat, and I arch my back.

“No,” I moan into his mouth.

“Yes. Come for me. I want you to.”

I can’t ignore the thick cock pulsing through me, hitting all the right nerves as his body, which is covered in wicked tattoos, fucks me like a battering ram. The breath knocks out of my lungs and my hands reach around to his ass, urging him on. I scream as the last thrust shoves me over the edge and I clench hard around him. My nails dig into his flesh as I come hard, the wave of relief knocking me down flat. Johnny silences my moans with his mouth, his breathing frantic. I melt into the couch, but his hips crush against mine, ramping up the pleasure again, until finally he breaks off the kiss and groans loud enough so that for a moment, I wonder if something is wrong.

His hips thrust hard, jamming his length into me as his warm cum explodes from his cock. He thrusts a few more times, each one jarring me back into lust.

Jesus.

The dampness of his skin makes him stick to me. I’m covered in his smell, my pussy full of his cum. Hot lips find my neck as his breath mists over my skin. He kisses me over and over, down my neck, teeth nipping at me before he takes my breast in his mouth and bites hard. Shit. Something so painful shouldn’t feel so damn good. He raises his head, his wicked grin adding another sharp bump to the need pulsing inside me.

A growl issues from his throat. “I can’t keep my hands off you.”

My heartbeat is still sprinting, but then it does a little flip when he gives me a small smile. The glow of my orgasm slowly fades away, and for one horrible moment I feel doubt clinging to my shoulders. The post-sex awkwardness makes my cheeks burn.

“What’s the matter?”

He fixes me with an intense stare that makes my insides tighten.

“I’m just—shy,” I say finally.

“Shy?” he says with a small laugh. “I’m balls deep inside you, and you’re shy.”

I look away from the laughter in his eyes.

“I’ll give you something to be shy about.”

The steely look in his eyes makes my breath catch in my throat.

“What?”