Slay (Storm MC #4) (13 page)

Fuck me.

I pulled his face the short distance to mine and kissed him with everything I was feeling.  He pressed his cock to my entrance.  I was so ready for him and pushed up against him.  He growled his pleasure into my mouth, which only made me want him more.  I wrapped my legs around him, locked them in place and used my muscles to pull his body closer to mine.  At the same time, I pushed my pussy against his cock and thrust up to take him inside.

“Fuck!” he roared, and pulled out so he could thrust back in. 

Hard. 

Fast. 

Rough.

Thank fuck.

He slammed in and out of me, and I clung to him for the ride. 

Frantic.

Wild.

Carnal.

I’m never letting go.

He exploded with a load roar, and I came a moment later, screaming his name.

We stilled and let it wash over us, limbs entwined, skin-to-skin.  I drifted off into a pleasure-induced fog.  His lips on mine snapped me out of it.

“Fuck me,” he muttered in between kisses.  “Fucking amazing . . . ” His voice drifted off as he deepened our kiss.  We stayed like that for a long time, him lazily kissing me and not letting go.  I could have spent eternity like that.

Eventually, he broke away from my lips and pushed himself up off the bed and left the room.  When he returned a moment later, he’d disposed of the condom.  Standing at the side of the bed, he let his gaze drift over my body.  “Don’t ever change,” he murmured.

I frowned my confusion.  “What?”

As he bent to retrieve the bottle of scotch and glass he’d placed on the floor next to the bed, he said, “You’re perfect just the way you are.  Inside and out.  Don’t change that for anyone.”

His words went straight to my heart and I felt breathless as I soaked them in.

He sat on the edge of the bed and poured himself a drink before placing the bottle back on the floor.  Turning his upper body to look at me, he held the glass out to me.  “Do you want some?”

I took the glass and downed half its contents.  It burnt going down, but I wanted that. 

Anything to counter the intoxicating happiness floating through me.

This is too good to be true
.

I handed it back to him and watched as he drank the rest of it.  He put the glass on the floor and then moved onto the bed next to me.  Lying on his side, he propped himself up on his elbow and placed his hand on my stomach.  My belly fluttered at his touch, and I rolled into him to press a kiss to his lips.

When we pulled apart, he whispered, “You’re okay with what I did today, aren’t you?”

His body grew tense while he waited for my response.

I nodded.  “Yes.”

He took a long breath, held it for a moment and then expelled it on a, “Fuck.”

I cupped my hand to his cheek.  “Is that not okay?” 

His hand gently smoothed my hair as he stared intently at my forehead, almost like he was avoiding my eyes.  Then he gave them to me and said, “You’ve no idea how okay that is.”

I smiled, and said softly, “Good.”

He didn’t return my smile, just continued to silently watch me.

Eventually, I asked, “Are
you
okay with what you did today?”

Surprise flashed on his face for a split second.  “You don’t think I am?”

Why’s he avoiding the question?

I chose my words carefully.  “I think your feelings on it are split down the middle.”

Again, he didn’t say anything, so I continued.  “You strike me as a man who isn’t afraid to do whatever it takes to keep people safe.  I also think you like the violence, so I’m not sure why you’d have any doubts about it.”

This got a response.  He moved fast, rolling me onto my back and moving on top of me.  One of his hands restrained mine on the bed above my head; the other one traced a line down my face.  His breathing was rough and his eyes were flashing something I couldn’t quite pick.  “I don’t do what I do because I
want
to do it.  I do it because it’s in me and I can’t deny it most days,” he said bitterly.  Pushing an angry breath out, he continued, “As much as I fucking try to keep it caged, it won’t fucking leave me alone.  And yes, I do fucking like it, but,
fuck
, I don’t want to.” 

He let me go and pushed up off the bed.  In one fluid movement, he was up and getting dressed.  His face was a mask of fury, and I didn’t know what to say or do to calm him down.  I figured, if it were me, I’d want to be left alone to deal with it until I felt calmer.  So, I let him do what he had to, and a moment later, when he stalked out of the room, I let him go.

Shit.

Chapter Twelve

Blade

“Ashley!”

She couldn’t hear me, so I screamed louder.  “Ashley!”

Still couldn’t hear me.

Fuck.

Why couldn’t she hear me? 

Her attacker moved his hand between her legs and roughly pulled them apart.

No! 

“Ashley!”

I tried to run to her, but my legs were like lead, and I couldn’t lift them.

Fuck.

He slipped his hands in her panties, and she screamed until he slapped her.

I tried yelling for her again, but she didn’t turn to me.

And then my legs moved, and I ran to her.

As her attacker thrust inside her, I finally got to them, but she still couldn’t hear me.  And when I stood right in front of her, she looked straight through me as she screamed her horror into the air.

“Ashley!”  I begged her to hear me, but she couldn’t.

I didn’t exist to her
.

I sat bolt upright in bed, my skin clammy with the sweat the dream had induced.  So much sweat tonight.

Fuck.

I turned to the bedside clock.

Four fucking am.

Jesus fucking Christ
.

I threw the bed covers off and stalked into the bathroom.

Deja-fucking-vu.

I’m getting sleeping pills today.

I angrily splashed water on my face and leant my hands on the vanity, staring at myself in the mirror.  The exhaustion was getting worse and manifesting in more anger than I usually felt.

Except when you’re with Layla.

Yeah, you fucked that up, asshole.

I snatched the towel up and dried my face before throwing it across the room.  I slammed my hand down on the vanity and roared, “Fuck!”

Three days without seeing her, and I was losing my shit.

Motherfucking fuck.

***

Scott greeted me at his front door four hours later and raised his brows at me.  “How many days since you’ve slept?” he asked as he held the door open for me.

“Too fucking long,” I muttered as I entered.

“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious.”

He led me down the hallway and into the kitchen.  “Coffee?” he asked.

I nodded and grabbed a stool at his kitchen bar.  “Who else is coming?”

“Nash and J,” he said while making the coffee.

“I’ll be honest, Scott.  I can’t fucking find Blue, and I’ve
never
had that problem.”

“Same.  I’m beginning to wonder if he even fucking exists.”

“The thought had crossed my mind.  Wondered if Marcus intentionally led us astray to give him space to do whatever he’s got planned while we’re busy, off chasing someone who we’ll never fucking find.”

Scott stared at me.  “Our brains run the same way, brother.”

I stared back at him.  He’d never called me that before, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it.  I was too tired to process it this morning, though, so I left it alone and moved on with the conversation.  “So you guys don’t have any more leads on him?”  I’d hoped he would have something today.  Anything.

He shook his head.  “Nothing.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” 

He passed me my coffee and I took a long gulp.  It was so hot, and it burned my throat, but I couldn’t give a fuck. I needed the caffeine.

I eyed him.  “How are you and Harlow doing?” 

His silence told me a lot, but he did give me an answer.  “Not good.  She hasn’t slept here the last few nights.”  He scrubbed his hand over his face.

“Fuck, you’re as exhausted as I am, aren’t you?” I asked, feeling his pain.

“Feels like it.  There’s too much shit going on lately.  I’ve never had to deal with relationship shit before, and I’ve gotta say, I’m fucking struggling with it.”

“She’s coming back, though, yeah?”

His hard stare held the anguish he fought.  “I’ll make fucking sure of it.”

Shit.

We were interrupted by Nash who swore all the way down the hall.  By the time he entered the kitchen, we both had eyes trained on him.  “That motherfucking cat!  I swear, if it fucks with me again, I’m gonna stuff it.”

Scott scowled at him.  “You go near that cat, and I’ll fucking stuff you.”

Nash ignored him and announced, “J’s not coming.”

“Why not?” Scott asked.

“Some shit about Madison and her car not working and a haircut she needed that wasn’t worth his balls if he didn’t take her.”  He shrugged.  “You fuckin’ know women . . . there’s always some bullshit to deal with if you want to keep getting your dick sucked.”

“Didn’t fucking need that visual of my sister, dickhead,” Scott muttered.

My head throbbed with a headache I hadn’t been able to shake for three day.

It’s been three days since I’ve seen Layla.

I downed the rest of my coffee before interrupting their bullshit conversation.  “Ricky Grecian contacted me a few days ago.”

That got their attention.

“And?” Scott demanded.

“He doesn’t want to share his territory.  Threatened me with something if I don’t get Marcus to back off.”

“What?” Nash asked.

“An old crime that he covered for me.”

“He wouldn’t hesitate to use that shit, too.  You got anything on him?” Scott inquired.

“Yeah, it’s all good there. Not that he knows that, of course, but I wanted to give you a heads up.  He’s coming for Storm.”

“Thanks,” Scott said, and I heard the honesty of that in his voice.

I nodded.  “Yeah,” I said, and then added, “Thanks for your help the other day.”

“All good, brother,” Nash said.  “Layla okay now?”

“Yeah.”

I have no idea.

I’ve got eyes on her; just not mine.

***

I walked into my office an hour later, dropped into my chair, leaned my head back and shut my eyes.  My head ached to the point of desperation.  I massaged my temples, praying that would ease it, but it hadn’t helped all morning so I wasn’t holding my breath.

“Have you still got that headache?”

I opened my eyes to find Merrick standing in my doorway, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Yeah.”

He uncrossed his arms and walked towards me.  “You need to go to the fucking doctor and get that shit sorted.”

“You’re worse than a wife, you know that?”

“And you’re a stubborn motherfucker who needs a fucking wife to kick his ass into gear.”

I yanked my desk drawer open looking for aspirin, but there were none to be found.  I slammed the drawer shut.  “Fuck.”

I pushed my chair back and stood before stalking to the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the river.  Clenching my fists, I took some deep breaths to try and get my shit together.

Merrick interrupted me.  “Have you called her?”

I spun around and glared at him.  “Fuck, Merrick.  I told you I’m not gonna fucking call her.  Don’t say that shit to me.”

His temper almost matched mine.  “You need to fucking call her, Blade.  It’s clear to me there’s something there, and it’s about fucking time you pulled your head out of your ass.”

My chest squeezed tight with the turmoil I was experiencing.  “No, I won’t taint her with my darkness.”

“Did you ever stop to think she might not care?  That she might share some of her lightness with you?  She might be the best fucking thing to happen to you in a long time, and you’re willing to just throw it away before you even find out?”  His voice gradually grew louder and he rubbed the back of his neck as he fought his frustration with me.

“And did you stop to think I might be the worst thing to happen to her?”  The brutal heaviness in my chest made it hard to breathe. 

Fuck. 

I clenched my fists again, craving violence.  It helped ease the demons.

I need to find another outlet.

You had one, asshole.

“Fuck!” I roared, and turned and smashed my fist into the wall behind me.  The pain radiated up my arm, and I welcomed it.  I’d learnt to embrace pain rather than fight it.  I’d also learnt to inflict it upon myself: the distraction of physical pain calmed the hurt of emotional pain. 

Turning back to Merrick, I demanded, “Is she okay?”

He ignored the hole I’d put in the wall.  It wasn’t the first one I’d ever put there and it probably wouldn’t be the last.  “Yes.  Ben’s got some of the guys watching her and has reported no problems.  No backlash from Mario’s people.”

“Good,” I murmured.

“You calmed down enough to discuss Phil Deacon?”

“Yeah, what the fuck’s he up to now?”

“Ben’s been investigating, and has confirmed Phil’s definitely putting a bid in for the Hurley job.  Ben’s also been able to confirm Phil’s got you in his sights.”

I frowned.  “How so?”

“Not sure yet, but he’s told his men anything goes.”

“Yeah, I bet he has.  Keep Ben on him.”  I stared at him for a moment.  “This is gonna be a fucking cock fight, isn’t it?”

He grimaced.  “Yeah.”

Just what we fucking need.

Chapter Thirteen

Layla

“Have you heard from him?” Jess asked while she straightened the bottles of alcohol on the shelf behind the bar.

I watched her from the bar stool I’d sat my ass on fifteen minutes ago.  Weariness had claimed me and it was only four in the afternoon. 
How the hell was I going to make it through the night?
  “No,” I answered her and did my best to ignore the ache in my heart.