I wanted to argue with him, to tell him he was wrong, that she wasn’t in this horrible downward spiral of devastation, and that I hadn’t been ignoring it for months now. Hoping it was just a phase, while biting my tongue and trying not to tell her how to live her life.
I was letting her fall because my own fears were clouding my judgment.
Because I was afraid of losing someone else if I tried to step in.
And also, because I owed her for giving me another breath of life when I was ready to break.
Holly was the reason I was with the club. She’d introduced us. I’d fucked Shotgun the same night and became obsessed. Not just with him, but with the club, the environment and the idea that these people could give a damn about me when my own family didn’t.
A lot of them had known Holly for longer than I had.
But it seemed like I was the only one still hanging on.
Why?
That goddamn loyalty Shotgun was talking about.
“The way she acts is dangerous. It could have got you seriously fucking hurt tonight,” Shotgun continued, his tone softening just slightly. “Assholes like those frat fuckers are sparkly clean on paper, but the things they’ll do to keep it that way…” With his palms still pressed to the large desk, his shoulders slumped. I knew it was because he was holding the weight of my decisions on them.
And he was right.
They were fucking heavy.
Suffocating.
Maybe too much.
“I’m sorry,” I conceded when a slight air of panic began to set in. I’d broken the rules. I’d put the club in a position that they didn’t need to be in tonight. I was too risky to have around.
“Come here.”
I chewed my lip for a second, twisting my sleeves in my hands. “I have to get to work. I told Meyah I’d be late.”
“Dakota’s here for the weekend with Ripley. She said she’d cover you,” he started, stepping back around his desk and making a beeline for me. “The rules say… no parties, not outside the club,” he continued, his eyes never leaving mine. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my chin up and my shoulders back despite the way this man always made me just want to get on my knees. I was a strong woman, I stood up for myself, wasn’t afraid to throw a punch or two, but the second Shotgun set his sights on me, I knew I’d give in.
It was this game we played.
He told me what I could and couldn’t do.
I pushed those lines a little too far.
Then he reminded me that he was in control, and I remembered why it felt so fucking good to let him be.
I sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers curled around my throat and he pressed me back against the door. He didn’t squeeze but instead used the position to move me however he wanted, firstly tilting my head to the side and running his nose down my jawline. His other hand was braced against the door behind me, pinning me in.
“I can’t figure out what’s going to get you killed first,” he murmured, his lips tracing the line of my jaw to my ear. “Your recklessness or your fucking loyalty.” My body already felt electric, buzzing, just waiting for that one spark which was going to set me alight. He had it in his hands, but before he let me have it, he was going to torture me mercilessly. A punishment that wasn’t exactly a punishment but more like a…
… reminder.
My mouth fell open, and I reached for him, my fingers finding his belt. “Probably both.”
He released a low growl I felt right in my gut, making my toes curl. “I can’t have that.” His hand curled around my neck, gripping it tightly as he drew my mouth to his, our lips brushing softly against one another, drawing out the anticipation for just a second longer before he finally captured my mouth. My hands moved up under his shirt, my fingers tracing the abs he had hidden beneath, flashes of his body playing over and over in my mind. The power, the strength had me clenching my thighs and leaning into his kiss.
Demanding more.
He began to walk backward, forcing me to follow, refusing to lose contact as our tongues fought for dominance. However, it was over quickly when I caught his lip between my teeth. He grinned, squeezing my neck, forcing me to release him and keeping his hand on my neck as he forced me to turn and pushed my hips against his desk.
Sliding up behind me, he pushed his hips forward, his length pressing hard against my ass and forcing a gasp to escape my lips. His hands suddenly left me, returning a second later to grab a handful of my sweatshirt and the shirt underneath to rip it up, over the top of my head.
Where the hell it ended up? I had no fucking clue because it was only seconds later that my bra joined it.
“Bend over. Hands flat.”
I was already wet.
My hips unconsciously pressing back against him, my pussy throbbing, desperately seeking his touch. I sucked in a deep breath as I placed my palms on the shiny wood desk, slowly lowering my body, the cold surface like some strange fucking torture. That was until I forced my breasts forward, my hard nipples meeting the chill. “Jesus,” I cursed under my breath, rolling the rest of the way, my whole upper body, including my forehead, pressed to the desk.
“Feel good?”
“Cold,” I murmured, adjusting my body a little, figuring out what felt good and what didn’t.
“Good,” he responded, his hips still pressed hard to my ass and the tips of his fingers now trailing the length of my spine, sending a shudder rolling through me like an earthquake. “The cold is going to feel just right after I make your ass red and hot.”
His fingertips reached the waistband of my tights, one hooking inside and then painfully slow, dragging them and my panties down over my ass to mid-thigh. I dare not move, not even as he stepped back to appreciate the view in front of him.
“So wet, so fucking pretty.”
“Shotgun…” I hissed like his name was a curse word. That was how I felt about it right now, how badly I wanted him to touch me, how badly I needed to feel him wrapped around me like he was the only one who could catch me when I fell to pieces.
Smack.
My whole body jumped, the sharp sting on my ass cheek drawing a desperate moan from me while my fingernails scratched at the wood beneath me. My clit was so alive, throbbing and aching to be touched.
Shotgun moved in behind me, bracing his hands on the table and leaving just enough space between our bodies so I could feel him there but so he wasn’t quite fucking touching me. He pressed his lips to my shoulder blades, working his way down my spine. “One enough?”
I wanted to say yes.
I wanted to beg him to just touch me.
Or fuck me.
Or something.
But instead, the word that came out as a whisper was, “No.”
His soft laughter told me he already knew the answer before I’d given it. I wasn’t surprised. The way he knew my body was something else. He knew what I wanted before I wanted it, and he wasn’t afraid to push it to limits that even I wasn’t sure it could go.
Smack.
I lifted on my tiptoes, chewing on my lip hard through the sting on my other cheek. “Fuck,” I cursed under my breath, rolling my hips. My body was alive. My heart racing, pounding. That was what I craved, and it was always what Shotgun gave me.
The heatwave moved through me, turning into more of a deep burn. A fire that had just started to come alive, and with a bit of extra help, would blaze with fury.