Ruin & Rule

He grasped my hair, holding me firm. “Because I said so. That’s why.”

Walking me backward, he pressed a strong hand on my sternum, toppling me onto the bed. Towering over me with his erection sticking proud and strong between his legs, he looked like the god of sex and delirium.

I loved him naked. I loved his effortless power and danger.

“Prop yourself up on your elbows. I want to see you.”

My mind stuttered like a faulty television set, flickering with memories of a younger boy with narrower hips and total innocence. I couldn’t distinguish between the green-eyed boy I loved and this beast of a man standing naked before me. Were they the same? Please, let them be the same.

“Spread your legs,” he murmured.

I obeyed, my heart squeezing.

If he was my soul mate from my past—how could I have forgotten him? How could I have ever walked away from a love so all-encompassing? I hated to think I’d hurt him by either breaking up with him or disappearing.

But… I couldn’t have left him.

He thought his girl was dead. He had proof. His belief was absolute.

My hope tore into smithereens. I wasn’t her. No matter how I tried to force it. I was homesick, lovesick, but most of all mindsick for everything I didn’t know.

“Wherever your mind is, stop,” he growled, fisting his cock. His colorful tattoo jerked as his quads locked in place.

My entire attention became riveted on his harsh grip.

“I’m here.”

“You better be.”

I latched eyes with him. “There’s nowhere else I would rather be, than here—with you.”

He snorted. “So damn strange.” His hand moved up and down, leisurely but punishing himself with pressure. He looked as if he would leave at any moment or attack and ruin me for life. He was… elusive. As if he was the one not truly here. His body was, but his mind—that was with his true love. The ghost I would never be able to compete with.

The thought made me endlessly sad. There would be no connection building—this was just sex. I had to keep that wrapped around my heart, so he didn’t shatter me when it was time for this fantasy to end.

His eyes went to my nipples—one colorful, one natural. His pace increased and his cock went ever harder. “God, I want to crawl inside you.” His gaze danced over my skin, taking in my tattoo.

His stomach rippled, tensing as my pants moved the fine hairs on his upper thighs. Bowing over me, he pulled my hips so my feet pressed against the floor then knocked away my elbows so I sprawled flat on my back.

I cried out as his hot, wet mouth captured my nipple, sucking it deep and hard.

My hands instantly flew to his hair, crushing his face against my chest.

He stormed upright, breaking my fragile hold on his long dark hair. “What did I just make you promise?”

I gulped.

Not waiting for my reply, he shook his head and stalked toward his walk-in closet. Coming back a few seconds later, he held out a gold tie. “Give me your hands.”

I blinked. A riot of thoughts went through my head, but I snatched onto the strangest one. “You’re a president of a biker gang, yet you have a tie?”

His lips twisted into a cold smile. “There’s so much you don’t know about me. Now give me your hands.”

“I want to know everything there is to know.”

He scowled. “We never get what we want. Learn to live with disappointment.”

Then he pounced. Effortlessly, he pinched my wrists together and tied the silky material around me. The second I was imprisoned, he plucked me from the end of the bed, marched me to the side of the mattress, and patted my ass. “Climb into the middle. Get on all fours.”

I looked over my shoulder. His face was unreadable, blocking all lust or clues. He wanted me—there was no doubt about that—and I wanted him—the wetness between my legs was a testament to how much I did—but he’d shut down a part of himself that I missed.

The part I’d seen very briefly last night and in the changing room today.

“Next time I tell you to do something—you do it. Immediately, remember?” Spanking me, he grabbed my waist, and practically threw me on the bed. Crawling with bound wrists wasn’t easy, but I did as he’d asked and moved to the center of the bed.

There was nothing vulnerable about this man. He was there to take and not give anything in return.

“Spread your legs,” Kill ordered.

The bed creaked as he climbed behind me, the heat of his naked thighs warming my backside. I jolted as his fingers dug into my hips, tugging at the yellow G-string.

Slowly, he dragged them down my thighs, letting them imprison my knees on the bedspread. I waited to see if he would tell me to remove them, but he only spanked me again—not hard, but enough to keep me very obedient. The heat on my skin ensured I would jump to his next instruction.

“Wider.”

I opened wider, fighting against the tightness of the panties wrapped around my knees. The degradation of not seeing what he was doing and being kept in the dark as to what he planned made my heart gallop like a feral pony.

He leaned to the side of the bed and with long arms and pulled out a blue wrapper from his bedside table.

I tensed. He was going to take me so soon?

What happened to the passionate man in the changing room? What happened to his fiery touch and insanely possessive kisses?

My tummy clenched at the thought of being used like this.

Kill placed the condom on the mattress beside my knee. His breathing hitched and my head lolled forward as his touch landed between my legs. He stroked my pussy, going from clit to entrance. There was nothing tentative about his fingers. This wasn’t even foreplay—it was a means to an end.