Going Under Read online

  This couldn’t be happening. No way should his touch have melted me. But it did. God save me, it did. With blood on his hands, death in his eyes, and my demise imprinted on his strength, my body recognized the high, the draw of riding the knife’s edge between life and death, the ecstasy in that in-between place.

  But fear also hid in his eyes. A quiver of emotion passed over his steely gaze, and his mouth tightened, his skin blanched. What did he fear? Why did that fear touch me inside more than the threat of death?

  A drug. He affected me like heroin—guaranteed to kill me, but the truth was still there. His touch was like a needle piercing my arm. The hard muscles I melded against drove a high through me like that first step when I pulled the plunger back and watched my blood mix into the syringe. Lowering his head, he brought his lips closer to mine. Hot, moist breath raced over my nerve endings, like the first press of the syringe, the first sweet rush. Not yet. One more tease. He didn’t let me down and traced my lips with his. I learned the fire of his lips, the smooth silk of their touch, and the slight mint on his breath. One last pull on the needle, a last chance to escape before I fell and wouldn’t be able to beat the addiction.

  Did he sense it as he looked into my eyes?

  The fear, the wildness inside me, or … the need my gaze hid?

  “It’s me or death’s door, sweetheart. Can’t have you talking about what you saw, can I?”

  His voice rolled over me, pulsed through me. A bass line in a heavy metal beat that hypnotized me, despite the darkness of the lyrics. Run away? No, I didn’t want to. I made a choice—uninhibited, crazy, and possibly the death of me. But if I was going to die, at least I could go with one last taste. I crashed our lips together, depressing the plunger, and tingles rushed through me. His fingers tightened in my hair, the sharp pinpricks of pain dripping desire over me, like blood—warm, sticky, and life-giving. I bunched his cut into my fists, the leather creaking under the pressure.

  I was rough, broken, and tarnished. Dirty, twisted, and buried under the ground. That side of me missed the race, the high. But he’d found the addict in me, pulled her kicking and screaming to the forefront with one touch of his lips. I should have known he would. He was a Diamond Eater.

  And I was going under, wanting him to eat me, too, even if I wasn’t precious.

  2

  Jack

  A howling vortex screeched through my head. Blood pumped and the world spun. Fuck me. It twisted on its side, anchoring me to the spot. Cool strands of thick, dark hair curled around my fingers, and a delicate, fragile scalp rested against my palm. I could shatter it. Break it into a pile of rough, jagged pieces. I’m good at that. Breaking things. Destroying life. That’s what kept me in the club, gave me my position.

  Michael deserved my retribution. One of the main rules of the club: Never harm a brother. As Sergeant of Arms for the Diamond Eaters, it was my job to enforce the rules. Michael’s slip up during an arms deal had left one brother dead and another paralyzed in the hospital. Jacob and Hitch would never ride again, thanks to that piece of shit on the floor. I’d enjoyed ending Michael. But the woman in my arms was different.

  I didn’t want to break her. Maybe I should anyway.

  Scents of unwashed bodies, death, and piss faded into sweet cherry blossom. I knew that scent deep in my bones. A faded memory of warm hugs and kisses before I headed off to school. Before the lies. Before pain and retribution made me the man I am. I hated it. I think I hated the woman in my arms, but her mouth burned hotter than fire, and I’m a moth. Her perfume teased me with happy times gone by; I couldn’t pull away.

  No, I pulled her closer, crushed her against my chest, marveling as her full breasts yielded to my hardness. Wet. Her tongue was wet and warm as it glided against mine. I growled into her mouth, staking claim to it. I lifted her high; she weighed no more than a feather. All it took was a few steps and I slammed her into a wall. She gasped, a break in her breathing, and I filled her with me.

  Every breath I exhaled contained brimstone and violence, hell and pain, but she swallowed it. My cock hardened as she clawed at my leather. Blood rushed to my other head and I got lightheaded. More. I needed more. I settled in the cradle of her legs and grinded against her. I rolled against her, pressing hard against that hot cunt. She was violence and dripping-wet passion in a tiny little package. I smelled her fear, too; the terror bled off her in waves. She pushed it aside, though, to kiss me. To grip my vest and hold me against her.

  She should fear me. I held her fate in my hands.

  I could decide after I felt her come on me.

  I forced my hand between our bodies and rubbed my fingertips against her cloth-covered sex. She sweltered, burning my skin.

  “Yes.”

  Her sighed word danced over my lips. I wanted to watch her come. Using her hair as rope, I pulled her head back so I could see her flushed face. Her breath puffed across my face, fanning the flames. Her cheeks were red, her eyes glazed.

  “A dangerous game you’re playing, sweetheart,” I told her.

  She shouldn’t have been wild for me, not after what I’d done, but she was. And I shouldn’t have been thankful she would want to touch a monster like me, but I was.

  “More,” she begged.

  “Even with that man’s blood on my hands?”

  She smiled, her eyes full of need. Even a dead body didn’t even rip the fog of desire away. Her body went liquid against me as I slipped my hand under her dress and into her panties. I worked her clit, circled the little nub. I held her, craving her to return. The wild hellion that destroyed my sense of peace. Destroyed the cold, emotionless pit I liked, and pulled me out of it, at least for a few minutes.

  “Please.”

  I licked the side of her neck, tracing her thumping pulse. Her hips rocked, a small but telling movement. She loved this shit, right here, in a crack-infested building, fucking the fingers of a man she barely knew.

  “Tell me no,” I said. It wouldn’t have mattered what her answer was, I’d have her anyway.

  She searched my gaze, and I’m not sure what I showed her. Did I mean for her to tell me to stop, or had I dared her to go on? Did I want her to push me away like everyone else, or cling in a way they never could? To need me more than want me.

  Pathetic. I was fucking pathetic.

  But I didn’t stop playing with her pussy. Didn’t stop myself from hiking her leg up higher around my waist so I could reach her better. And I stole her mouth, even as she whispered.

  “Don’t stop,” she said.

  Perfect.

  I released my grip on her hair and used my freed hand to lift her dress. Her breasts were plump and round, cupped in black lace. Pink nipples peaked out from flimsy material. When I rolled one stiff nub between my thumb and forefinger, she clenched her legs around my hips. I pinched the flesh harder, circled my fingers faster against her clit, listening for her moans. My cock thickened as pre-cum leaked from the tip. I wished I could be inside of her, so deep inside she’d feel me for a fucking week.

  “Come on my fingers like a good girl. Come all over them.”

  Her moans and ragged breaths ricocheted as I played with her, pushed her, claimed her. Her hips bucked hard against me as her fingernails bit into the material over my chest. Little claws, I liked that.

  “Right there. Oh, right there.”

  “Scream for me,” I demanded, pinching her clit and nipple at the same time.

  The world froze for a moment, and we were suspended in eternity. Pleasure just on the edge, my balls tightened against my body, and her gaze locked with mine. I watched her through her climax, the emotions flying through her features—surprise, pleasure, fear, and then, surrender. The world flashed back into existence as she cried out. Nothing, nothing I have ever seen was as beautiful as she was in that unguarded moment of pure pleasure. When her muscles clenched, her breasts shook with the intensity of her climax. Her mouth—open, slack, and shiny from my kisses—and her out-of-focus eyes …
they turned me on. Right there, lost in that other place, she was priceless.

  I should run as far as I fucking can from her, but I won’t. I can’t, and I know it.

  I could fuck her, then and there. She’d give in. Time wasn’t on our side, though. I had to clear the scene, but there would be plenty of time when I got my little captive home to enjoy her more. So I pulled away. Her lips were swollen and her eyes heavy-lidded as her feet touched the ground. She placed a shaky hand against her mouth, a smile playing on the edge of her lips. She was fucking dangerous. Killing her would be the best option. My phone buzzing stopped me from reaching for my gun.

  UNKNOWN: She’s a pretty girl, Jack. I’ll take her off your hands.

  The message burned my cellphone’s screen, bringing my thoughts to a screeching halt. Who the fuck had it come from? How did they know my name and I’d taken a captive? I pulled away from her body as I scanned the darkness around us. When I went on club business it was clear, to the point, and out without anyone seeing me. I’d traveled the long way to the meeting spot, ensured I hadn’t been followed—so I thought—and took care of the transgressor.

  Now I had more shit on my hands.

  I gripped her face, digging my fingers into her jaw in warning. “Did anyone follow you here?”

  She blinked up at me. “No one.”

  “What were you doing here, then?”

  I watched as her tongue slid over her teeth and ignored the way my cock jumped at the sight.

  “I came out here for a good time, and a bad situation found me. I ran,” she answered.

  Simple enough, if she were telling the truth. “You got a pimp waiting in the wings?”

  She tried to shake her head. “No one. Just let me go.”

  Not going to happen. Not until I found out who the unknown texter was and what connection they had to the girl.

  I pulled her face closer to mine and covered her mouth. “You try to run, you’ll end up on the floor like him.”

  Her throat worked as she swallowed.

  “We’ll go for a ride, and you will be a good little girl. Right, sweetheart? I think you know more than you’re letting on, and if you do, I’m going to make sure I kill everyone involved. Got me?”

  Tremors racked her body but anger swelled in her gaze. Her lips tightened beneath my palm, her eyes narrowed. She was not as docile as I believed, but I was stronger. I pinched my fingers into the space where her jaw and cheek met, eliciting a flinch from her.

  “Last time I’m going to say this … I don’t like repeating myself.”

  She nodded. Whether answering my previous question or acknowledging my threat, it didn’t matter either way. Both gave me the agreement I needed so we could move on. I’d lost the woman from the previous moments, but it was necessary. We couldn’t stay, and I’d already wasted enough time. If the cops showed up, there’d be trouble neither of us could explain. I spun her around and pinned her wrist between her shoulder blades. Pulling her away from the wall, I made sure she couldn’t break away from the grip. I was ready to get out of the crackhead infested area and back to the club house. We stepped over the body of Michael on our way out. My mission was complete, my brother avenged.

  I shook my head, pulling the woman out of the building and toward my bike. It didn’t take long to reach it, and although I didn’t see anyone around us as we approached it, I could feel someone. Climbing on the bike with her in front of me, I started it up. My Harley roared to life, thundering between my legs. Once I got her back to the club, I’d find out more. If some gang were trying to poach on Diamond Eater territory, I’d make sure they regretted it.

  The ugliness of the inner city disappeared as we headed out of Felthill and traveled toward the Diamond Eater club, my captive clinging to me as we rode. No matter what city I traveled through, I preferred the open roads and long strips of highway to living in boxes on top of other boxes. Good riddance to the filth there.

  “Who’s that you got there, Jack?”

  I turned, letting my worry rest for the moment, and smiled at Fix as he strolled toward me, his wild, black, curly hair sticking out in all directions.

  “A brand-new Honey, but this one is just for me,” I told Fix. If she were a mole, she wouldn’t get a shot at getting her claws into another brother, and I was high enough up the officer totem pole to have my way. She’d fucked with the wrong man.

  “You don’t say?” Fix asked, glancing over the woman in my arms before he called Lana over. The main Honey for the officers of the club, came around the bar, her fake tits nearly bouncing out of her low-cut shirt. Emotions I fucking hated filled her gaze.

  “Hey, need something, sugar?” she asked me. Fix shook his head in disgust at the saccharine nature of her greeting. A Honey—a woman in the club who wasn’t claimed by a patched member to be their Old Lady—was always vying for a place. Our life as bikers could be wild, dangerous, intoxicating, and one hell of a ride. The higher the patched member a Honey grabbed, the more power she had in the infrastructure within the women. Lana, though, wanted me. Always had. It didn’t matter which biker she serviced, she’d always circle back to me.

  “Fix called you over,” I told her.

  “I’ve already taken care of him, baby. What do I need to do for you?” She licked her lips and looked me up and down, a plea in her eyes. A snort drew my attention to my captive.

  “Who is she?” Lana asked. If looks could kill, I wouldn’t have to worry about my captive problem anymore.

  “My name is Melody, and I’m right here.”

  Melody. I tested it in my head, rolled it on my tongue. It fit her.

  “And I didn’t ask you, bitch. You shouldn’t be hanging on Jack like that. You earn your keep around here. You want to be a Honey, you find a Prospect and blow him real good. Take care of him, and then you might be worthy of a patched member.”

  “I’m not blowing a thing,” Melody said.

  “You need to teach your whore manners before we have to,” Lana hissed.

  “Cut it out,” I demanded. Lana switched her demeanor instantly, all smiles and come-fuck-me eyes. Melody, though, didn’t stop glaring.

  “She belongs to me. Make sure the other girls know it,” I told her.

  “She your Old Lady?”

  “You’re asking too many questions, Lana, instead of listening. Want to go back to riding Prospects?”

  “No, sugar. Whatever you want, you know I’ll take care of you.”

  I shook my head. I’d deal with Lana later. “Melody will be a Honey starting tomorrow, but she’s my Honey. Nobody else’s. Fix, make sure the members know it, and Lana, take care of the girls.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  I didn’t miss the way she glared at Melody before she flounced off in a huff, but it wasn’t my problem anymore. She’d do as I commanded, and Melody would be under the watchful eyes of the other women when I worked.

  “That will be an issue,” Fix said.

  “I don’t do issues. I remove them.”

  Fix laughed. “You can’t just make some issues go away, and a scorned woman is one of them.”

  “She’ll mind or be gone. Simple. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Melody and I have unfinished business.”

  “Of course. Please do everything I would do.”

  I laughed and clapped his back before heading back to my room. I intended to.

  3

  Melody

  Trapped in the bar with Jack—if that really was his name—the outside world disappeared. I had to rely on someone he called “Fix” for that information. Sounds of balls as they struck one another on the felt-top tables reverberated through me as Lana sent glares my way from behind the bar. With the scent of alcohol thick in the air, violence teemed through burly outlaws; I hated it. Sweetness and pretty roses didn’t make me give up smack and escape Tony. I loved the rush, the high I got during my time on the streets. Hell, I wanted Jack to throw me over the nearest fucking pool table and fuck me senseless. I wanted it all,
the grit and grime filling my veins until I lost control.

  But I refused to be contained.

  I recalled waking up one morning covered in vomit and nut, Tony’s heavy frame pressing me into the mattress, and I couldn’t breathe. My lungs expanded, my heart beat, but my mind caught me in a fog, and I couldn’t see my way out. The very drug I craved locked me into a land I couldn’t escape from, and I needed—desperately—to be free. I refused to let Jack keep me prisoner like that. I wouldn’t be held by anyone, or anything, ever again.

  I dug my heels into the ground to stop Jack from pulling, afraid to go further into the unknown where he’d control everything. Part of me wanted to be free. To escape to the safety of my home where I didn’t know Jack’s touch, or see scantily-clad women dancing on leather-clad men. The other half of me wondered just when we’d get the party started. I wasn’t sure which side would win.

  The symbol of the Diamond Eaters hung behind the bar, a large patch with a snake biting down on a diamond. People around me laughed and cursed, drank, and had a good time while I clung to my fear. Jack led me away from Fix toward the back of the bar. Toward darkness. I didn’t want to go there, but what I wanted didn’t matter to him. He jerked hard, and I tumbled, tripping over my heels and slamming into a wall before I could right myself.

  “You can get hurt not doing what you’re told,” he said.

  The laughter in his voice caused a tendril of fear to slither up my spine. I’d fall down the rabbit’s hole with him if I followed silently. I kicked out, clipping his shin with my heel. I shouldn’t have. His backhand came too quickly; I couldn’t dodge it. Heat spread through my cheek and my eye began to throb. Cool air made goose bumps rise on my arms in the darkened hallway. Empty tears gathered in my eyes, but I tried my best to blink them away. Jack ignored several closed doors as he pulled me behind him. Finally, he pushed me against the wall next to a closed door near the end.

  “Are you going to kill me?” I asked. My voice trembled, and my hands were clammy. He slid a key into the door, and the pins clicked as he turned the lock. The door swung open and he motioned for me to go in first.