Chapter Twenty
Brynn
A part of me feels like my entire world has been crushed into a million little pieces. There are so many things my parents never told me. If someone had told me that my father, Ray Maddox, was a biker, I would have laughed at you. There was no way that the man who kissed my cuts and scrapes was part of a motorcycle club. He didn’t own a Harley and he sure as hell never wore leather.
Burying my face into Bentley’s neck, I take a deep breath and try not to think about any of it. I just want to lay here and forget that any of this happened. I would much rather be thinking about anything else. Maybe more about what’s going to happen now that Aaron and I are no longer together.
We all but shared an apartment that I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to. He may not have officially moved in, but he was always there. I don’t remember a time in the last year where he wasn’t there with half of his stuff.
“Stop thinking so hard, you’re giving me a headache.” Looking up at him, I see the grin dancing on his mouth, and I want to punch him.
I pinch his side, and he rolls us over so that he is pinning me down on the mattress. “I love when you get all feisty. It turns me on more than anything else.” I wrap my legs around his waist and run my hands up his stomach toward his chest. I pinch one of his nipples, and he closes his eyes, letting his mouth part slightly. His breathing changes slightly, and I know that he likes this.
I don’t know much about what he likes, but it seems like as long as pain is involved, it’s good for him.
“Do you have a crop?” I ask with a huge grin. I want to play a little with him and see just how kinky he can be.
“Not that I let little girls play with,” he answers, dipping his head down to my collarbone. He runs his tongue along my skin softly before he nips at the skin there. A touch of pain hits my body and my back arches into his body. The grin on his face gets wider before he sucks away the pain.
“Oh God,” I moan as he runs his fingers down my back toward my ass. I’m only dressed in one of his tee shirts, and it doesn’t take him long to pull it up high enough for him to get access to my ass and pussy.
His fingers dip inside of me, and I grind up against him like a cat in heat. It’s almost embarrassing how much he turns me on. One of his hands slides up my stomach, and he squeezes my tit before kissing me hard on the mouth.
We are a mess of teeth, lips, and tongues by the time he’s pulling the shirt up. He pulls away so he can get his shirt off of me before he gets off of the bed completely.
I watch him walk towards his dresser before he reaches in to grab something. The crop he pulls out is black and red, and as he walks back over toward me, he sheds his jeans on the ground. I can’t help but stare at the crop in his hand. I’ve seen them before in sex shops, but have never felt one hit me.
“Up,” he orders. I get to my hands and knees on the bed. He motions for me to spin around and I do it without a second thought. I don’t know why, but I trust him. He would never hurt me on purpose, that much I know about him. He may like pain, but he wouldn’t subject me to it if I didn’t like it.
“Ass in the air and grab your ankles.” I do as I’m told, trying to find the most comfortable position for me to lay my face against the center of the mattress. “I’m going to show you just how fucking good it feels before I let you hit me.” I feel my body heat at that. I wonder how many women he’s let hit him with that.
Before I can think any more about it, the sound of the crop flinging through the air, and the feel of the sting as it hits my skin. My body lurches forward, and I gasp at the feel. It’s a mixture of pain and pleasure, and I don’t know how I feel about it exactly. Before I can get my bearings again, he hits me again on the other ass cheek this time.
My back arches and I let out a little moan. He hits me a few more times and it feels better each time, and it doesn’t take long before I can feel how wet I’m getting just by this. If this feels this damn good, how come I never tried before now?
He rubs his hand against my sore ass before he dips his fingers between my thighs and discovers just how wet it made me. “Fuck, you like that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I whisper as he sinks two fingers inside of me. I moan at the feel of him filling me, and I want more. “Please,” I beg when he doesn’t give me anything more than his two fingers. He pumps them in and out of me quickly, bringing me closer toward the edge, but when I get ready to fall over, he stops all movement and pulls his fingers from me.
His palm comes down on my ass, and I bite my shoulder to keep from moaning again.
"Sit up." His demands are hot as hell, but what he says next is what does me in. He pulls me off the bed to stand next to him before he kisses me. Once he pulls away, he sits on the edge of the bed before handing me the crop.
I stare at him in shock as he takes a deep breath before looking back at me.
I don’t move because part of me is afraid to. The other part of me wants to hit him with the damn crop. I know we shouldn’t be having sex right now with everything that has happened, but I’m craving it. I’m craving him and all that it entails being by his side.
He motions for me to come closer. I stand between his thighs as he runs his fingers up the back of my legs. “What do you want me to do?” I finally ask when he doesn’t say a word. It’s almost like he’s preparing himself for what he wants me to do.
“I want you to hit me with this.” His fingertip runs along the tip of the crop, and I just watch him. He takes my hand and flicks his wrist, showing me just how hard he wants me to hit him.
The crack of the crop hitting him causes me to flinch. It sounds like I’m hitting him hard, but he doesn’t look like he’s in pain at all. He moves our hands, forcing us to hit him again, this time in his thigh. Every time he moves us, I can’t help but watch in fascination. After a few more hits, he releases me and pulls me to him.
His eyes are dilated, and his breathing is ragged. I bend down and press my mouth to his, kissing him like my life depends on it. He pulls me into his lap, and I can feel how hard he is now. Wrapping my legs around him, I let him take control. I know he needs it.
He lines us up and slams into me, stealing my breath from inside my chest. Every thrust of his hips feels like he’s going to break me in half. His mouth ghosts over my chest and my neck and when I get close, I whimper out the words, “I’m going to come.” My breathing hitches and I clamp around him tightly. My nails dig into his back, and I sink my teeth into his shoulder as I come.
“Fuck, Brynn,” he bites out as he squeezes me tighter. We fall back onto the bed, and I can feel the sweat that has gathered along my spine. His hands run through it, but it doesn’t even faze him.
“That was…” I don’t even know how to describe what just happened. He let me hit him with a crop. The same way that he hit me with it.
“It was fucking good,” he laughs. “So fucking good.”
I pull back slightly, and he looks almost peaceful. The demons that I generally see in his expression are gone, and he looks happy.
“That’s what you like?” I ask, tracing the tattoo on his chest. The Wayward Saint patch is something that I figured out was tattooed on all the members somewhere on their body. Everyone seems to have theirs in different places, but I like where Bentley put his. It’s above his heart. The tattoo on his forearm flexes when he moves his arm behind his head. For I am my brother’s keeper.
“What is this tattoo for?” I reach up and trace my finger along the words on one of his forearms.
"Just like it says, for I am my brother's keeper." I narrow my eyes at him because he doesn't give me a real answer. I want him to tell me why he put that on his body.
“Whatever.” I try to roll off of him, but he stops me.
“Don’t.” He leans forward and presses his mouth to mine, kissing me until I all but forget my own name. When he pulls away, he starts to tell me what it means to him. “I got it because I stand behind my brothers, blood and club. I will protect them at all costs and do everything in my power to make sure they are okay. I will kill for them and anyone else in the club.”
A shiver climbs my spine, and I swallow around the lump in my throat. "Have you killed someone?" I know he doesn't like talking about what he does for the club, but I need to know the truth. I need to know how dangerous this life is.
If my father left it, it must have been bad back then. I doubt it would change much over the years.
“Yes.” My body goes cold at his words, but I don’t pull away from him. I stay right where I am as I try to process what he just admitted to.
"Who?" I don't even know why I ask the question. I don't want to know that he is capable of killing someone.
"No one you need to worry about. I'm just going to tell you this; I've killed men that threatened my family or put them in harm's way. I don’t regret a damn thing I’ve done for this club. I warned you that it wasn’t a pretty life with me, that I would ruin you. I wasn’t fucking lying about that. I’m not a good man. I like sex to be painful. I kill people who cross my family. I make no excuses for being the man I am and I never will.” He moves out from under me and stands up.
I watch him grab his jeans and pull them on. I am still in shock that I can't even move. I can't even think about anything he just admitted to. He isn't the man I've always thought that he was. I had played them all up to be good guys. Guys that were safe and protective to an extent.
He doesn't say another word as he makes his way over to his dresser to pull on a pair of socks and his boots. He grabs a tee and pulls it over his head before he walks out the door, slamming it shut behind him. The echo of the door slamming fills my ears, and I just stare at it in surprise.