Ransomed MC Princess #1 (9 page)

His brow furrows. “Wish you’d told me that earlier. I wouldn’t have let you ride.”

“It’s fine, it’s probably nothing,” I tell him.

“Let me have a look, babe. I gotta see if you’re okay to ride.”

I sigh. Damn this guy is persistent. “Fine.” I rip open Damien’s stupid cut and pull up my shirt.

Damien’s a big guy by anyone’s standards, but especially when you compare him to me. The jacket might not have done much for my legs, but it kept the rest of me covered.

Like the pink wisp of a bra I wore.

And my matching thong.

And my vajazzle.

His chest starts to sparkle like it’s underneath a disco ball. For a second I think I’m going crazy. And then I remember that I’ve already gone crazy, because
I’m
the one who let Candy attach this glittery monstrosity on me!

I want to close my legs but his hands are on my knees and he’s holding them like he’s bracing himself for something. That beautiful, chiseled, face of his seems even darker than it did in the woods as his deep blue eyes drink me in.

His grip on my knees gets harder. I don’t even think he’s even aware of the movement. I feel my core tighten. “Just a bruise. Not even a flesh wound,” he whispers.

My breath catches.

His eyes still haven’t moved from my vajazzle. “Is that what you wore to get his attention?”

Fuck! How am I supposed to respond to that?

“Uh,” I cough, “yeah.”

“I think you got his attention, babe.”

I swallow. “Really?”

“Oh yeah.” His grip on my knees tightens again. Slowly, his eyes close as he turns away from me. “Let’s get your hands bandaged up.”

My knees feel cold where his hands used to be. I watch him grab some peroxide from the counter and a few cotton balls. Then, he turns his attention back to me and puts my poor, scraped-up hands so the palms are facing the ceiling.

“My hands really aren’t that messed up,” I tell him.

It’s a lie. They look like I decided to pet cement for twelve hours. His eyes are sympathetic as he pours peroxide on the cotton balls. “It’ll be over in a second.”

The peroxide hits my raw palm. I bite my lip and tear up but I don’t make a sound.

Alright, that’s also a lie. Actually, I do make a sound.

Maybe I even make a few of them.

He closes his hand around mine. “There. It’s okay now, babe.”

It doesn’t feel okay! It feels like I’m holding embers, and let’s be honest, pain turns me into super bitch. “Don’t think I’m gonna just believe everything’s alright because you say so, or that I’m your babe just because you decide to call me that.”

Oh man, did I really just say that? To the guy that faced death to get me out of that damn tree and is trying to bandage me up?

I look up at him. He’s frowning down at me. “You don’t like bein’ called babe, do you?”

No. It makes me think of loud, trashy sex!
“It’s not that I don’t like it.”

His frown deepens.

“Okay, you’re right. I fucking hate it,” I admit, “but only because that’s what Damien calls all his sweetbutts.”

“That guy’s got a lot of girls then, huh?”

“Oh god, you have no idea how many girls that guy has. It’s disgusting. It’s like he’s to fuck all the women in the state!”

He brings my hands to his lips. “Must be tough bein’ close to someone like that.”

I think of the dark circles under my eyes he’s given me from so many nights of listening to his headboard slam against the wall during his sexcapades. “You have no idea how hard. It’s a fucking nightmare.”

“It doesn’t have to be a nightmare. Not all guys treat their women that way.”

“I’m not his women. Come to think of it, I’m not even ‘babe’ to him.”

He puts my hands back in my lap. “I see. So, what’s your name?”

My throat is suddenly tight. “Annie.”

His gaze changes. Softens. “Annie, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a really pretty name.” He rubs his jaw. “Anyways, Annie, most people’s hearts are almost infinitely malleable. You may feel like he’s the only one in your life now, but that doesn’t have to be the case.”

I sigh. This guy doesn’t know Damien. I mean, I live next door to him, and according to Candy, he’s made it his mission to chase of any guy who’s ever had an interest in me. But I don’t feel like bringing that up.

“Has that been your experience?” I ask the man.

He chuckles. “No. Some people’s hearts don’t change.” His hooded gaze takes in my body. “Though sometimes, I feel almost like I could be persuaded.”

So he did have someone—or he had someone. I can feel his loneliness despite the heat in his gaze and his attempt to laugh it off. My chest constricts. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t bother trying to deny it, nor does he act ignorant. “You shouldn’t be. She didn’t die and I didn’t really lose her, if that’s what you’re wondering. She was never meant to be mine in the first place.”

“What do you mean?”

“I met her a long time ago. We were too young.” He shakes his head. “Way too fuckin’ young. I didn’t even know what it meant back then. It’s only been afterwards that I’ve realized how much that short period of time has meant to me—how a brief moment of light can make a world filled with darkness tolerable…almost.”

He’s so big. It’s hard to imagine anything could move him, that anything could hurt him. I put my hand on his arm, but my throat’s too full to speak.

He looks away. “Sorry if I upset you again.”

“No. I’m glad you told me. It’s worse to keep those things inside you.”

“Maybe.”

I swallow. “You might find her again.”

“No. I wouldn’t want that for her.”

“Why?”

“She was a sweet girl. If we met again…I don’t know. It would only mean one thing: that life hadn’t been so sweet to her. And if it had been sweet…then I’d feel even worse.”

“Why is that?”

Darkness takes over his eyes as he looks at me. “Because I don’t think I could walk away from her a second time. I’d like to think I’m that noble but in my heart, I know I’m not.”

My mouth goes dry. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s probably for the best. Sorry for scaring you.”

It didn’t frighten me
, I almost admit. I don’t know what kind of affect his words had on me, but it wasn’t fear. It was more anticipation or bliss, spreading from my stomach into my limbs like alcohol. However, the thought of telling him this
did
scare me, though I don’t know why.

I decide not to dwell on it. “If she meant so much to you…don’t you think you might have meant something to her too?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you did, she might like to see you again.”

“No, she wouldn’t. Not if she knew what I was, who I was.”

“That’s an awful thing to say about yourself.”

He looks at his hands. “There are men in this world who will never be forgiven. I’m one of them.”

“That’s not true. You saved me.”

He looks up with a sad smile. “Maybe you’re my redemption, Annie.” He brushes hair from the side of my face. “It would certainly be fitting.”

I gulp. “Um, what?”

He leans in, his hand trailing up my thigh, dangerously close to my glittery sequence invitation. “I don’t wanna scare you again, Annie, but I’m feelin’ you. A lot.”

My stomach starts doing flips. “Feeling me how?”

He smiles, a darker smile than I’ve seen from him yet, that lights me up from head to toe. “You know.”

Every muscle in my body tightens. I do know. But he clarifies, anyway.

“I wanna fuck you.

Fuck
.

Did he just say that filthy word to me? And why did its filthiness not bother me when he said it?

A vision penetrates my mind suddenly, completely. His large hands holding me down. His large, naked, tattooed body over mine, filling me, taking me.

Fucking
me.

“You don’t like anythin’ you tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

I nod as he lifts himself onto the cot. His knees make the mattress dip.

Oh my god, this is really happening. I’m really doing this. I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this.

My legs are already spread, so it’s easy for him to get between them. His length his my thigh as he moves above me. His shadow moves over my torso, his face inches from mine as he pins my hands above my head with one hand. His other comes down my cheek to my neck, touch feather soft. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, Annie.”

I shiver. I am Princess to everyone, not Annie. No one calls me by my real name. No one bothers to see me for me. But he sees me—he sees the real me—and I’m a prize to him. I’m not untouchable. I’m not the annoying little girl everyone thought of as a sister. I’m not the scary MC President’s daughter. I’m just a woman, 100% woman.

And he’s 100% man.

Suddenly, his eyes darken. “Take off his cut.”

“W-what?”

He pushes himself up and grabs the collar of Damien’s jacket. “You’re not wearin’ his shit anymore.”

Okay. I’m not
. His rough hands can’t yank it off me fast enough. When I’m free, he throws it to the floor. Then, he grabs Damien’s shirt and actually
rips it in half,
exposing my body.

The sudden rush of cool air makes goosebumps flare over my skin.

I’m naked. Practically.

His fingers pull up the strings keeping that pink excuse of a bra in place.

“W-what are you…?”

I don’t finish because he just took my breast in my mouth. Yes,
my breast
is in
his mouth
. And he is doing things with his tongue that feel so good they shouldn’t be legal. I moan as he flicks his tongue against my nipple, sending jolts of pleasure all the way down to my toes.

His hands press into my body like he’s playing it, his strong, knowledgeable fingers make me feel things that shouldn’t be possible and make me want things I have no words for. I arch my hips, hitting the gigantic bulge in his pants.

Oh god. He’s not just big—he’s a monster.

My eyes roll into the back of my head.

“You still with me, Annie?”

My eyes are fluttering, probably making it look like I’m overdosing on some freaky shit. “Oh no, I’m making that creepy demon possessed face again, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, and I can tell he’s grinning. “But I like it…now that I know what it is.”

I shudder. An awful image of my rotting face spinning around like an owl fills my mind. “Please don’t say that. I don’t want to look like that.”

“Annie, I promise you, in about ten seconds you’re not gonna care what you look like.”

My eyes narrow, confused. “Ten seconds?”

He smiles. “Yeah. Ten. Because first, I gotta tell you again how fuckin’ beautiful you are.”

My pulse skyrockets.

“If you were mine, Annie, I’d use your name every time I could, and then I’d kiss every perfect part of you and wouldn’t stop until you were screamin’ mine.”

Before I can respond, his mouth claims mine. His lips coax mine open so his tongue can do dangerously beautiful things. I never thought of myself as a sexual creature until him—as a woman who both knows what she wants and demands it. But I am that kind of girl—wanton and wild and completely unashamed of it. I won’t be satisfied until I am his, and he is mine.

I moan, arching up into him, opening my mouth, deepening the kiss. I’ve never been kissed like this before. This isn’t some sweet stolen kiss, or five minutes of wet, sloppy nasty while some guy sticks his tongue down my throat and hand under my shirt, groping my breasts. This is spiritual. I feel incomplete, and like the only way to complete myself is to give myself to him completely.

His hands come down, hard, pinning me in place as he drags his knees further onto the cot until he’s straddling me. His mouth moves moving over my mouth, my neck, his hot tongue branding me. I grab his shirt, pulling his chest down to me so I can bite the skull tattoo on his neck. He growls.
Annie
, I think he says, his voice as rough and dangerous as his hands. Having all this power at my fingertips makes me heady.

Abruptly he breaks it, leaving me breathless.

“P-please,” I whisper.

He grins as he moves down my torso. I giggle as his breath hits my tummy.

“Ticklish?” he asks.

“A little.”

“I’ll remember that.” He smiles again, pushing back my legs. His grip is no longer feather light. It’s strong. Forceful.

His hands move up the backs of my legs, thumbs on the underside of my thigh. Then he lets go, loops a finger around my thong, pulling it aside so he can see the entire shimmering, colorful, vibrant vajazzle.

And then it hits me: he can also see
all
of me.

His breath warms my inner thigh, making my cunt tighten. Oh my god. Was this really happening? Did I want it to happen? Alright, stupid question. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. But I don’t even know this guy’s name or what chapter he’s from and yet here I am, spreading myself for him and begging for things that would have disgusted me a few hours ago.

There’s a hitch in his breath. “You really are perfect, Annie.”

Those words undo me. I don’t care anymore about anything except that deliriously aching pleasure only he can give me. I push my pelvis up but there’s nothing to make contact with. But, oh God, I want to make contact with something. I want to be filled so fucking bad it hurt.

And then he does the last thing I expect. He brings his head down and kisses me.

There
.

Where only my fingers have gone before. His lips so much softer than a finger, such a strong contrast to his rough stubble. I love that about him—his wildness and restraint—how he stirs within me a pleasure so great it almost hurts.

I scream, grabbing his head, pushing him against me. His tongue rolls from my clit to my pussy, slipping inside me, claiming me. I fist his hair, still screaming as his mouth, tongue and fingers work dark magic. Something inside me is building. I can’t contain it much longer.

I cry out as he pulls away from me. His fingers slip inside me as he kisses my clit. “Cum for me, Annie,” he whispers.