Never Kiss an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (42 page)

“I'll eat. Just not...that. It's the last meal I had before I was kidnapped. Ricky put something in my food at this diner. Doubt I'll ever enjoy a hamburger again. His trick worked to get me in his truck, and...“

She stopped, catching a lump of pure sadness in her throat.

Fucking shit.
My heart sank. I held up a hand, silencing her, then walked over to the table and ripped it up. I crushed the whole bag into a tight ball and opened the door, hurling it into the garbage outside.

“If I take you out for something different, will you promise not to fuck me and try to run away?”

She shrugged. “Whatever. You know I won't. Even if your club isn't like the Deads, I know I'll have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life if I squeal or turn you guys in. That's not what I call freedom.”

My jaw clenched. She gave me the answer I needed to grab her by the hand and lead her to my bike. Didn't make me stop wishing the entire time that she saw me as something other than a cruel, calculating motherfucker.

Someday, I'd make her. One more promise piled onto my long list of impossible obligations.

* * * *

W
e hit the local taco shack for a couple hours. I sucked on Mexican beers while I watched her pick at her food like a bird, but by the time we left, she'd finally eaten enough to make me happy.

I paid the tab and watched her slump across from me in her seat, her eyes half-closed, digesting more than just her food. Shit, the girl probably needed a solid year to process all the crap she'd been dragged through the last forty-eight hours.

I stared into my half-empty beer, watching the pale gold swirl, all I could do to keep my eyes off her curves.

My dick turned me into a monster. I couldn't stop imagining fucking her, even after all she'd been through.

And if we actually fucked, I'd be sure to fuck her over too. She needed something soft after the hell she'd suffered.

Too bad tender, gentle, soft wasn't in my damned vocabulary. The only thing swirling through my skull was rough, hard, and rougher. I wanted to take her so hard I left marks, stamped her skin from head to toe, let the entire world know she was mine.

I'd start by shredding her clothes and wrapping her hair around my fist. Meg's hot, virgin skin would burn beneath my lips. My entire cock throbbed each time I thought about dragging my mouth down her body, pushing my face between her legs, jerking her into my lips, tongue, and teeth by the ass.

Had she ever ridden a man's face before with her sweet cunt? Whether she had or not, there wasn't a fucking chance she'd ever had her pussy tamed with a mouth like mine.

I made women scream. I stole every molecule of air from their lungs. I caused them to pant 'til I let them attack my cock, and they fucked me ferociously, begged for my come, lost their minds before I finally gave it up.

This chick made me imagine the nastiest shit I had in years.

Her freak virginity made me want to claim her even more. If I got a chance, I'd shake every inch of her, fuck her over and over and over again, 'til every last trace of the dirty bastards she'd been forced to suck were gone forever.

“Skin? Did you hear me, or were you too busy playing with your drink?”

I looked up. The glass swirling lightly in my hand stopped.

Was she serious? Hell no, I wasn't listening.

Not when the pouty angel across from me turned my blood molten every time I looked at her.

“Sorry. I've been busy thinking about how we're gonna work this to get you back to your ma and pa sooner.”

Yeah, right.
All I was really thinking about was hearing her call me daddy while she took every seething inch of me.

She smiled softly and shook her head. I'd put on a good front. “I said he never cared if I finished my food. Ricky, I mean. Look, I'm never going to kiss your feet for doing what you need to do. But maybe you're a little nicer than the last man who chained me up. Maybe.”

“Yeah, whatever, babe.” I'd rather have her kissing something else, but I kept that part to myself.

Reminding me of what the club had done – what I was doing to her right now – fucking gutted me. I hid that shit too. I couldn't go soft and let her assume anything. I also couldn't handle her getting under my skin, tempting me to do something stupid to get her home sooner, something that'd screw my brothers over.

Whatever morals I had died years ago, the first time I shot a rival man in the guts and watched him flop to death on the floor. Sure, the asshole deserved it, but you never come back whole from putting down a human being.

That's what I'd thought, kill after kill, growing a little colder every year, just like Dad. I hadn't known what the hell wrong was 'til I plucked her outta that whorehouse. I forced myself to look at her, even though my heart was filling up with black, toxic muck.

The woman across from me didn't deserve any of this shit, however I justified it. Two wrongs never made a right, but between me and the club demanding money from her folks, we'd kept her alive.

“I won't try to run,” she said, reaching for my hand. “There's nowhere to go without you. I don't know the rest of your biker friends from the pimp or the Deadhands. I shouldn't trust anything you say, but I want to believe, Skin, that you're not like them – I know you don't want to do this. I can see it in your eyes. That means something. Just a little bit.”

Fuck.
I didn't like anybody seeing past the barbed wire I put up in my cold face, least of all this wounded dove.

“Don't try to get all emotional on me, lady,” I growled. “If you think I'm soft, you'd better get your head checked. I've done plenty of shit I'll pay big for one fine day in hell. I don't worry a lot about morals, beyond what's best for keeping my own ass safe and what benefits the MC. I'm gonna help you get out of the quicksand, Meg, but that's where this ends. You don't wanna get attached. I'm not your friend. Just your ticket outta here.”

Her pale face softened. She nodded like she actually understood, fixing those glacial blue eyes on mine. I stared her down 'til she broke and blushed, then I slid out of my seat and grabbed her hand, leading her out to my bike.

We didn't say much as I drove her back to the clubhouse. She was probably getting tired now that her belly was full. I hoped it'd save me from having to deal with her anxiety tonight.

It was gonna be hell sleeping in the same room with this chick, feeling her pressed up against me. Damn if I'd let her make me feel anything else.

I had to stop thinking sex.

This pussy shortage wouldn't last forever. I'd find others – lots of other sluts – and by the time I did, this stolen princess would be outta my life. I'd let the Prez put her reward cash to good use while I fucked myself completely free of her.

Women were fuck toys, and a special few turned into old ladies. Not for me. The only pillow talk that ever interested me was the filthy kind.

The chick with her little hands pressed around my waist while we roared through the mountains needed more than that. She was too screwed up for drama-free pounding after what Ricky the shithead did to her.

I'd save her from my dick, and I'd save myself from the love and tears that I knew would come raining down.

This was just another job, another mission for the club. One more chance to get things right after we'd been staggering around drunk on too much danger and not enough cold, hard cash.

Nothing more. So help me God.

* * * *

I
showered like I always did with the door wide open to my little bathroom. Having a woman in the room never changed my habits, not even this broken hearted beauty.

Still caught her looking.

For some fucked up reason, that made me grin through the suds and hot water hissing over my face. Her soft blue eyes took little snatches of my body whenever she thought I wasn't looking, too blinded by the water to notice.

Whenever I looked back through the cheap shower door, she jerked her eyes away, hiding her beet red face behind this mystery story magazine I'd picked up for her at a gas station.

Little minx,
I thought with a growl, feeling my cock blazing to life.
Take a good, long look. It's only natural.

Don't care if you're too screwed up to fuck. It doesn't change the fact that I want it anyway. Want it, need it, feel it so bad I've got hot coals burning in my balls.

Before I finished, I reached down and grabbed my swollen cock, giving it at least a dozen hard, quick strokes with my slick hand. Didn't feel a tenth as good as her pussy would wrapped around me, and I knew she was looking.

Hell, her eyes stayed fixed in dumb amazement on my dick up 'til I ripped open the door and stepped out, wrapping the towel around every raging inch of me and tucking it around my waist.

“Glad you enjoyed the show,” I said with a smirk, stepping back into the room and grabbing my clothes.

She shrugged and shook her head furiously, too embarrassed for words. I walked back into the bathroom to change, wondering what kinda fireworks were going off in her head.

I wasn't stupid – I knew I shouldn't be teasing her like this after she'd just walked outta hell. But fuck, the girl needed a distraction.

If watching my dick took her mind off all the nasty things she'd suffered under Ricky, then I'd give her a peep show every fucking hour she was holed up in my room. Some strange, merciful part of me wanted to wine her, dine her, and fuck her 'til she couldn't remember her own name, much less what the last six months had been like.

My face turned psycho killer whenever I thought about it. I remembered Ricky, that sniveling, greedy piece of shit.

I would've killed him the night I went tearing down to save her if I wasn't in too deep a time crunch. I rolled on my jeans and looked at my gun, hanging on its holster. I pulled it out and felt the raw power in my hands, brought it over in my safe to lock up for the night, the same way I always did when I had a chick in the room.

Meg watched me walk out and put the gun away, slamming the safe shut with a loud clap.

I hadn't forgotten all the business I had with this girl, or the promise I'd made to her. She'd pay up and go home. We'd find a way to deal with the Deads and keep our club safe. But damn if I'd let that sick motherfucker slink away into the night, only to set up shop and do this to some other girl who never asked to be pulled into violence and slavery.

I'd end him one day. I'd do it with pleasure. I'd let Meg know when I did too, if only to give her closure so she could live the rest of her days without worrying about seeing his evil ass ever again.

“Take the bed tonight,” I told her. “I'll crash on the floor.”

She sat up and watched me flop down with a pillow and a thin sheet. Shit was hard as concrete, really, but I didn't give a shit.

There wasn't much to my bed. Still better than the crappy cot she'd slept on forever in that whorehouse.

I closed my eyes for about a full minute before I heard her voice. I looked up, and she was staring over the bed at me, straight down with her gem blue eyes.

“There's enough room for both of us, Skin, if you'll behave yourself. I'm okay with us sharing. It's a cold night.”

I grunted, mulling it over for a second. The raw need roaring through my cock threatened to strangle the gentleman inside me. Fine, whatever. I popped up and rolled into bed next to her, promising myself I'd keep my hands to myself.

She switched out the lamp a second later and pulled the sheets tight. I laid awake for a long time, thinking about how this whole twisted situation would blow over. We'd get the reward for the club, the day all this shit would finally be wrapped up by dropping her off at her parents' door.

I thought about the hundred ways I'd like to slaughter Ricky the pimp again. I thought about how I'd fight to keep this club intact and protect every last brother wearing my patch, how we'd butcher the Deads or anybody else who fucked with us.

I thought about anything and everything that didn't involve me throwing the covers off Meg, tearing her panties off, and sinking my cock deep inside the hot, warm hole I wanted to fill with every fiber of my being.

All the dirty, bloody thoughts in the dark ended when she rolled toward me. I felt her heat, her sweet young body, pressed into me as naturally as a kitten curling up to its mother. The soft whimper leaving her lips told me she was asleep, doing it unconsciously.

Fuck it.
I couldn't lay there a second longer without feeling her.

I threw an arm around her waist and pulled her tight, silencing the lust in my blood. She craved comfort, and I'd give it to her, if only for tonight.

There was something strangely peaceful about having this chick huddled in my arms. Didn't change the fact it was confusing as shit. I hadn't even fucked her, and we were spooning like lovers – something I never did with the whores I bedded.

What the fuck?

I was still thinking about how ironic life could be when the sandman finally caught up to me and dropped the five ton hammer on my head.

* * * *

T
he next day, everyone was frustrated. Both the prospects ran into trouble with their bikes in the morning, and half our crew spent the entire day fixing them up.

When I came in to clean up, streaked in grease and oil, I found her in my room, a notepad and pen in her hand. She'd barely opened her eyes and muttered a few words this morning. I'd left her the paper and told her to start working on a plan that would get her parents' attention, without getting our club  busted by any boys with badges.

“Didn't know you were into mud running,” she said with a smirk, as soon as our eyes locked.

I gave her a stare. “You've still got your sense of humor. That's good. What else have you got?”

I walked over and ripped the notepad outta her hands. She yelped protest, but I ignored her as I flipped the pages, staring at a few lines of neat cursive scrawled several pages in.

It looked like the start of an outline, a bunch of question marks – never a good sign.