Uncontrollable Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 3) (8 page)

“How’d you get in here?” He asked roughly.

I didn’t know if that was a trick question, there wasn’t exactly a guard at the gate or anything like that.

“A girl like you don’t strut into the Dog Pound because she made a wrong turn. So, I’m going to ask you again. How’d you get in here?”

“I made a mistake,” I stammered. “I don’t belong here.”

“Well, you’re here now so you’re going to tell me why,” Blackie demanded, his voice rising.

“Jack,” I blurted out. “I’m looking for Jack.”

Confusion settled over his features as he raised an eyebrow, assessing me in disbelief.

“You’re looking for the Bulldog?” He took a step back, grazing the stubble that shadowed his face with the back of his hand.

“Is that Jack?” I questioned.

Blackie didn’t answer at first, tearing his eyes from me to look back at the building.

I was seriously contemplating turning around and running while his attention was focused elsewhere but then his cold stare washed over me.

“You want a piece of the Bulldog,” he said. It wasn’t a question, he said it as if it was a stone cold fact. “Let’s see if you got the chops, girl.” He tipped his head toward the door. “After you.”

His voice hung in the air like a dare, taunting me until I accepted and started for the door. I nearly toppled over as the door pushed open and a scantily dressed woman emerged swaying on her six inch heels.

“Watch it,” she hissed, lifting her eyes to Blackie. “Moved on so quickly did you Black?”

Blackie ignored the woman but I couldn’t help but gawk at her. Her hair was a mess, her make-up smeared across her face, and her clothes were in disarray. She looked like a prostitute.

“Keep it moving,” Blackie whispered against my ear, as he held the door open for me.

I exhaled, wishing like hell I never came here. I stepped inside the warehouse and was immediately hit with the foul stench of stale smoke. I blinked through the haze, my eyes finally focusing and I let them travel around the large room. I wasn’t sure if I had walked into a frat house or a brothel. There were people having sex right there in the open for anyone to see. They were smoking pot in the corner and ripping lines across the bar.

I had miscalculated and
misjudged the man I came here seeking forgiveness from. I don’t know what I was thinking or what I expected but this, this wasn’t it.

In a world as dark as the one I live in, sometimes I can’t help but crave sunshine.

If this was the world Jack inhabited, then he was right, it was a dark one and sunshine, definitely didn’t fit amongst all this dark shit. I didn’t fit in. Not me, before the fire and certainly not who I was now.

“There’s the Bulldog,” Blackie said, his arm stretching over my shoulder as he pointed toward the far left corner of the room. I followed his finger, choosing to block out the people surrounding me and focus on the reason I was here.

Jack leaned back against an old black leather sofa, his arms stretched wide across the back of the couch. I watched, mesmerized as he threw his head back against the pillows and closed his eyes, his ruggedly handsome features twisting and contorting in pleasure. His lips, shadowed by the scruff of a day or two's growth, lifted in the faintest of grins. He was beautiful in a lethal sort of way. I stared in awe as the man who always seemed so intense, unraveled before my very eyes.

He dropped one hand to his lap, threading his fingers through the hair of the woman positioned between his thick thighs. I couldn’t tell what she looked like as she was on her knees with her back toward me and her face buried balls deep between Jack’s legs. He fisted her hair, arched his hips and fucked her mouth.

It was vulgar, and it was obscene but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. I think I even took a few steps further into the room, hoping to get a better look. I felt something dormant awaken inside of me. A burning for something I didn’t realize was missing from my life. Something I didn’t know I was still capable of feeling.

I clenched my legs tightly together, trying to dull the ache that stirred between my thighs, the need that ripped through me, screaming for relief. Jack was oblivious to his surroundings, fixed on getting off, working for it like his life depended on it.

I was crazy.

Crazy for thinking this was a good idea. Crazy for coming here. Bat shit crazy for standing here watching, waiting, to see this man through his orgasm. Certifiable for wishing I was the one who drove him to that sweet ending.

“Well what are you waiting for?” Blackie taunted from behind me.

Jack’s hips buckled, and he shouted something I couldn’t make out since I was too far away. I bet whatever it was he cried out was dirty. Real dirty.

“This is the best fucking night of my life,” a young guy exclaimed, as he stood in front of me blocking my view of Jack. I lifted my eyes to his as he flipped the baseball cap he was wearing around so that the rim wasn’t blocking his eyes.

“Who are you, sexy mama?” He asked, reaching out to run his hand along my side.

“Riggs, she’s here for the Bulldog,” Blackie clipped.

I snapped out of the semi-catatonic state I was in and shoved the pie against the young guy’s chest, forcing him to take hold of it.

“I’ve got to go,” I mumbled, turning around and slamming into Blackie’s chest. He glanced down at me, a sly grin on his face.

“Can’t hack it,” he accused. For the first time since I stepped foot into Jack’s world I actually felt frightened. I stared up at Blackie, fearful that he would block my escape and force me to wait around for Jack to zip his fly.

“No I can’t,” I whispered, giving him the words he wanted to hear me say. Blackie stared at me for a minute, quietly assessing me before clearing the path for me to pass.

“Don’t look back, little lady,” he warned.

I didn’t tell him that I wouldn’t look back, that the images of Jack were embedded in my brain. The memory of his face would burn ferociously inside of me, warming me on the cold lonely nights.

I pushed passed Blackie, running from Jack and his dark life. My feet hit the pavement outside the warehouse, carrying me away from the Satan’s Knight’s clubhouse. Only when I was outside of the gates did I turn and look back at the building. I conceded that my therapist was wrong. Jack was not someone I needed in my life. He may have given me a glimpse of the girl I used to be but there was no hope in him being the man who resurrected the old Reina.

It was hopeless.

I was hopeless.

I looked down at my clothing, vowing to donate all my old clothes to charity, rid myself of the disguises and false hope that I’d ever be healed. I was merely a ghost of Reina DeCarlo.

I stared down at the brunette who sucked me off, milking every drop of come into that polluted mouth of hers. She wiped at her dry, cracked lips with the back of her hand as she stood on her platform heels, grinning at me, so fucking proud of herself. Whore.

She was a dime a dozen, been through half the men in the club, spreading her legs on command.

“How ‘bout that ride now, Bulldog?” She purred, lifting her skirt as she moved to sit on my lap. She wrapped her boney arms around my neck as she rocked herself against my semi-soft dick.

I grabbed hold of her hips and pushed her off of me.

“Served your purpose, keep it movin’ girl,” I ground out, raising my hips and pulling up my jeans. She glared at me before diverting her eyes to Riggs as he plopped his ass down beside me on the sofa.

I was already a forgotten thought as she rounded the back of the couch and massaged Riggs’ shoulders. My guess, by the end of the night she’ll have a dick in each hole.

“Best fucking pie ever,” Riggs said with a full mouth, shrugging the whore’s hands off of him. “You guys really went all out. I don’t remember baked goods at any other club party.”

Riggs dug his finger into the crust of the pie, pulling it back to lick the cherry filling off of the tip.

Cherry pie.

“Where did you get that?” I asked, a sickening feeling creeping into my gut as I rose to my full height and stared at the pie in his lap.

Riggs lifted his eyes to mine, licking his lips, savoring the flavor. I grabbed the pie off his lap and held it in my hands, staring at it like it was a foreign object before glancing around the clubhouse.

“Hey, wait a minute, give that back man,” Riggs exclaimed, reaching for the pie.

“Where. Did. You. Get. The. Fucking. Pie?” I asked, gritting my teeth.

“Some fucking hot blonde brought it by before she took off,” he responded, holding out his hands for the pie. “Now give it back.”

I shook my head, convinced my mind was playing tricks on me again. Reina couldn’t have really been here. I glanced back down at the pie in my hands for a moment before shoving it back to Riggs.

“Where is she now?”

“How the hell should I know?” He responded, shrugging his shoulders. Digging into the pie again he closed his eyes as pleasure consumed his taste buds, opening them as he swallowed. “Blackie was on her like white on rice, bet he knows where the pie goddess is,” he pointed out. “Do a brother a solid? When you find her ask her if she’ll be my personal baker, will you?” He questioned hopefully.

Blackie.

I’ll fucking kill him. Gut him like a fucking fish if he touched her.

I don’t know where the possessiveness came from, didn’t really care either. Reina came here looking for
me
.

She brought
me
a pie.

I’d be fucking damned if I would let any of the brothers make a play for her. She wasn’t like
the rest of the women here. Most of them club whores who had their cunts stretched by every dick in this place.

I stalked through the clubhouse, eyes searching for my vice president. I didn’t even realize my hand had subconsciously pulled my knife from my pocket or that my other hand had clenched into a tight fist at my side.

“Looking for someone?” I heard Blackie ask from behind me causing me to freeze in my tracks. I slowly turned around, my grip tightening around the knife. He lifted the joint he was smoking, which was small enough to be a roach, to his mouth and took a hit. He inhaled, holding his breath for a moment to get the most out of his hit. He exhaled a stream of smoke, flicking the joint onto the ground before crushing it with his boot.

“What’d you do with her?” I growled, grabbing hold of his throat and yanking him forward, desperate to see fear in his eyes, knowing it would never come. He gave me nothing, remained calm, allowing me to dig my fingers into his throat without so much as blinking an eye.

“I find you laid so much as a finger on her I will cut you,” I threatened, leaning close to his ear so my words were only his to hear.

“Go ahead,
brother
.” His last word, a reminder that this man I was choking, threatening to slice, was more of a brother than my biological brother.

“Be doing me a favor,” he struggled to bite out.

I dug my fingers deeper, my control slipping as I pulled back a fraction and stared into his blank eyes. Blackie was going through his own shit in his life, had been ever since his junkie of a wife overdosed. He never bounced back from that, much like I had never been right since my son’s death. I kept myself medicated to carry on while Blackie kept himself drunk. He was a functioning alcoholic, making it hard to keep track of when he was deep into a bottle or stone cold sober. The stench of whiskey ripped through my senses affirming the latter was usually never the case.

“Christ, you fucking reek,” I hissed, loosening my grip on his throat and watching as he stumbled backward slightly. I shook my head in disgust, disappointed in both him and myself. Him, for letting that no good bitch fuck up the rest of his life because she was a greedy old lady who loved the needle more than she loved him. Me, because I was losing control over some pussy I had no business having. Reina wasn’t even my type. Not that I was picky, I’d fuck anything with two legs and a hole but I normally steered clear from the damsel in distress bit. It wasn’t my thing. I was no prince. I wasn’t the rescuing type.

Too consumed with my own thoughts I didn’t see it coming but I sure as hell fucking felt it when Blackie’s fist collided with my jaw, making it my turn to stumble backward.

“Fuck you Bulldog,” he barked. “You ever put your fucking hands on me again and I will cut
you
with your
own fucking knife. President or no goddamn president, brother or not, friend or motherfucking foe. You read me?” He questioned, eyes cold as they pierced me. “Now, I don’t know where your fucking girl is but if I had to guess she ran as far as she could from here.”

I worked my jaw, the blinding pain a reminder of a line I crossed with my vice president. Blackie blew out a breath, staring at me for a moment before shaking his head.

“She stormed the fuck out of here after she watched you get your dick sucked,” he sneered, closing the little space between us. “Don’t know much, but it’s plain to see you’re twisting for a taste of her,” he said, piercing me with a steady glare. “And with all you got on your plate, don’t think you can handle a piece like that on top of everything else.”