Going Under Read online

  I didn’t move.

  “If you give me a reason,” he warned.

  I looked around us. No one loitered in the hall, and if they did, I doubted they would save me. In his world, I didn’t have any rights, except for those he gave me. I recognized it, sensed it. Just like when I lived with Tony, and yet, I hoped I’d left that part of my life behind. I knew how to survive in that world, but I didn’t want to. Heaving a sigh, I flipped my hair over my shoulder.

  “What are the rules?” I asked. Survive, Melody. All you have to do is survive.

  With Jack glaring at me, I stiffened my shoulders and wrung my hands in front of me, but I looked him straight in the eye. Bastard wouldn’t keep me here, but I could play nice.

  “Who you working for? Telling me that will go a long way to keeping your heart beating,” he said.

  I groaned. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, and I couldn’t convince him otherwise. “I already told you I was running from someone when I went into that building.”

  He squinted at me and stepped closer, pressing himself against my body. “I’m going to keep you to make sure. If I find out you’re lying to me, you’re going to wish I’d put a bullet in your head.”

  “I’m not lying. I won’t tell anyone what I saw. I know the drill, and it’s easier to keep quiet than stick your nose out and get it cut off.” I showed him my arm and fingered the track marks.

  I wasn’t beautiful; I may have been before I went to the needle. My hair was nondescript brown, like my eyes, and my lips were full, but not as full as I’d seen on other women, like Lana. My breasts were average, and I had narrow hips, but my legs went on forever. I’d seen tough shit, and I could fade under the radar; I’d spent enough time on the street to know how to use what I had on a man.

  There had to be some way I could convince him to let me go. Even if I had to use my body to do it. No man turned down free sex.

  “Do I look like a man who would leave anything unfinished?”

  I swallowed. “No, you don’t.”

  He looked like a man who got what he wanted, when he wanted. He’d snatched me without a care. Did things to my body that even now made me blush with embarrassment. How I’d ever let him touch me after killing a man didn’t make sense. How he made me come harder than I ever had in my life terrified me.

  I feared what he’d say next.

  “You are unfinished business. If the completion of that business is entirely satisfactory, or … shall we say life-altering, is entirely up to you.”

  This time when I looked at him, the façade disappeared. The real man stood before me. The man beyond the beautiful face and powerful shoulders and the fear I’d seen for a few seconds in his gaze. He was a monster wrapped in human skin, and his darkness had touched my life just because I’d met him. My mouth pinched, and I narrowed my eyes. Death was a sort of escape, wasn’t it? Perhaps angering him wasn’t the worst option.

  “You’re a bastard.”

  “Yeah? And you rode this bastard’s fingers until you came. What does that make you?”

  “A whore,” I whispered.

  Lost in his mouth, the slight mint on his breath, the strength in his hold, and the control he had on my body, I’d come undone around him in that warehouse. Violence and danger had always attracted me, the young girl from Small-town U.S.A. where nothing happened. My naiveté made me believe dancing with the Devil could be cool. But the Devil took prisoners and trapped their souls. I wanted a new kind of demon, one that would rip my soul from my chest and send it flying into the sky where it could never be touched again.

  I hated the pull of darkness but craved the sweetness of release found in it, as well as the threat of living life on a razor’s edge. That world was a trap. I’d learned that lesson under Tony. It should have cured me from yearning for the darkness. From wanting men like Jack. It didn’t. Even traveling the night looking for rough, hard fucks didn’t change the fact I still looked for it. And maybe I was fooling myself anyway.

  Maybe I’d asked for this.

  “Just let me go, alright. I can’t do anything to you.”

  “You can, you will, and I look forward to it.”

  My eyes widened as I put my hands up between us, palms toward him. “Please, don’t. We can come to some sort of agreement. I can give you what you want. Just don’t … don’t hold me hostage.”

  He laughed in my face. “We have reached an agreement, sweetheart. You’ll go in my room, do what I say, and keep your mouth shut. Wouldn’t want that pretty head of yours meeting pavement, now, would I? You asked for dangerous, sweetheart. Nothing more dangerous than me.”

  I wanted to be released. To escape a shitty world of goody two-shoes and rules. I wanted to feel—for just a few moments—those highs I used to climb, without the need of a needle sticking out of my arm.

  “Please?” I begged.

  Jack gripped my hair, twisting his fingers in the strands until my scalp screamed. My knees went fucking weak, and I waited with bated breath to answer his command.

  “Get. In. The. Damn. Room.”

  I swallowed and did as he said. A massive bed covered in black and red linens dominated the room. On the wall over the bed, a Diamond Eater patch hung proudly. I didn’t get to see much more before he pulled me toward the bed and pushed me to the ground.

  “Just to be sure,” he muttered, and chains clanked as he pulled a cuff from the end of the bed and clasped it around my ankle. Terror leaked into my bloodstream with the cold, hard metal against my flesh.

  His scent—dark musk and power—enveloped me as he bent over me. How fucked up could I be if that smell made my heart pound? If part of me wanted him to push me down and take what he wanted, force me to accept the slide of his cock, and scream to the top of my lungs how much I liked it? His very closeness chased the fear away, fogged my mind, and made the cravings come back.

  Just one hit.

  I pressed hard against his chest, but he didn’t move away.

  “What are you doing?” What I hoped? A bit of what I needed? Fuck, I made myself crazy with my dizzying wave of emotions. Back and forth, the will to sink and the urge to fight.

  “Quiet.” He groped around for my purse. “Bingo.”

  My heart sank as he pulled out my wallet and keys. He searched until all my purse was inside out, then he removed my heels before he left me alone.

  “Melody Renee Hughes, 1645 Hackberry Road. Good to know. Oh shoot, you aren’t an organ donor. You know, you really should think about that. It could save someone’s life.”

  “Fuck you.” I raged because I hated how he made me feel. How he twisted me up inside. I wanted to be under him, and I wanted to escape him.

  “Do you want to? I’m happy to be of service.”

  I couldn’t answer as he locked my things away and dropped his keys on the nightstand next to it. Jack stripped his jacket and let it fall to the bed before he gripped the bottom of his shirt. Washboard abs and thick pecs came into view as he pulled his shirt up and over his head before he tossed it at me. Leather and heavy musk filled my nose before the material slid to my lap. It was warm, filled with his body heat, and burned the skin on my legs.

  “Keep watching,” he said. I couldn’t look away, fascinated by the scripted words tattooed over his torso and down his groin. Wiry blond hair covered his lower stomach, a trail tracing lower as he pulled his pants away from his body. As he kicked off his jeans, his thick cock—large even while flaccid—swung back and forth between his thighs.

  What the fuck was wrong with me that my mouth dried, and I wanted his cum to drench my parched throat? How could I want what he offered while I was hooked to the corner of his bed like a dog?

  I had to get away. Dangerous was one thing, but he would cage me. I refused to ever be trapped under some man again, a slave to my needs and no control over my life.

  “You want me?” he asked and I squeezed my eyes closed, blocking him out. “No? Too bad. I’m going to get in the shower
. Be a good little girl.”

  My gaze swung from his cock to his tattoos again, but he wrapped a towel around his hips, blocking me from reading the larger script.

  “If you don’t want the fun, you can mind your business about the artwork.” Laughter filled his voice as he left and entered a second door. I waited and listened for the shower to turn on. It didn’t take long. Alone, I looked around his room for a weapon, or anything that could be used as one. Nothing was close enough for me to grab, but a window was just a few yards away from me. If I could get the cuff off, I could escape through there.

  Keys. He had keys.

  I scanned the nightstand and found them resting there. Get up and get out. As quiet as I could, I stretched across his bed. The cuff jangled and I sucked in a breath. My heart thudded as the sound of metal shifting echoed through the room, shattered the silence, but not a single sound was that of the door opening. I extended my arm as far as it would go, the pained, stretched skin between my fingers screaming at me, but I ignored it. Just a little more. My middle finger brushed the cool metal of the largest key ring and I pulled it closer. I gripped the keys, silencing their sound with my grasp, and slid off the bed.

  I fumbled, trying each key in the cuff keyhole until one of the smaller ones fit and turned. Relief flooded me, softening my muscles and clearing my head as the cuff fell to the floor.

  Window.

  Between one breath and the next, I was on my feet. A simple knob latched the window. Sliding it open, I didn’t stop to listen for him or risk waiting to see if anyone saw me. I forced my slim body out the window too fast and fell. An unforgiving, hard-packed ground cradled my fall and I swallowed a cry. No time for tears. I had to run. Get away. Get home. I got to my feet.

  “Not so fast, Firecracker.”

  I screamed as Jack gripped my dress and hauled me back in his room through the window. That close. That close to freedom.

  I struck out at him, rage and fear fueling my fists when I pummeled his chest. He didn’t move, eating my punches as if they were nothing. The windowsill rubbed against the back of my calves as he yanked me inside. Holding me away from his body with one hand, he slammed the window closed and locked it behind me, shutting out my freedom.

  “You’re going to have to try harder than that, sweet cheeks.”

  He slammed me to the bed and came down on top of me. With a quick glance, I noticed his towel was gone as he pressed me into the mattress. He was strong. So much stronger than me as he pinned my wrists above my head.

  He tsked. “I didn’t hurt you, and look how you repay me. Trying to get back to your pimp?”

  “Please,” I begged.

  Jack rocked his hips against me. “Please, what? Last time you begged, I gave you what you wanted. It could be so sweet being mine, you know? I could show you things you’ve never had.”

  “I want to be free.”

  “Not an option. So why not choose to have pleasure instead of pain?” he whispered, palming my breast. “Well, pain you can’t stand, anyway. Didn’t you ask for this?”

  He twisted his wrist, squeezing my tit with bruising force. God, it hurt. But my pussy wept. Warmth flushed through me, raging against the anger and morphing into violent desire. No, no I couldn’t want this.

  “Ask me nicely, Melody. Ask me to swallow down all your cum and I’ll lick that pussy of yours clean. Ask me to show you how sweet it could be to belong to me. Don’t be afraid.”

  “I …” Could I? Could I give into the wilderness brewing between us? Let him win? Enjoy the pleasure I knew he could give me?

  Yes. Just one hit and I’ll be good.

  “Show me,” I said. I was losing my mind. He told me he was going to kill me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to prove why I was in that abandoned building. Hell, he took my freedom and shoved it down my throat and I still wanted him.

  “Say it. Pretty, pretty, pretty—” he started.

  “Please,” I finished.

  He didn’t say another word. Instead, he lifted off me and ripped at my dress, shredding the thin material. One minute I was on my back, fighting to get away, and the next I was on my stomach, ass in the air. His hot breath touched my pussy first, cascading over my sensitive pussy lips, heating the juices flowing from me.

  It was hard and fast with him, not softness, as he latched his mouth around my exposed flesh. I curled my fingers into the bedspread as he sucked my labia into his mouth. His tongue filled my entrance, sliding in and out with maddening speed.

  “Fuck, yes!” I cried.

  One of his thick arms rested over the small of my back as he gripped my hip and pressed my sex to his face. The other slid between my legs. Strong fingers traced over my navel before dancing at the bottom of my bra. He was rough when he pushed the cups out of the way so my tits hung down.

  “I want to see you lose control,” he said against my skin.

  His magical fingers twisted and pulled at my nipples. We were raw and messy. Me, half-dressed on his bed, bra up near my neck, and strips of my dress bunched under my arms, and him naked with his face pressed into my pussy. His nose rubbed against the sensitive skin between my pussy and asshole. I tensed as my muscles spasmed with pleasure. Too much. Too hard. Too fast. But I followed his instructions, liquid pouring through me. He pulled his tongue from inside of me and circled my clit. It stood so far from its hood it ached. His touch both hurt and soothed it.

  “More, please more,” I begged.

  Sharp, hard teeth clenched around my nub as stars danced behind my eyelids. One second I rode his face, and the next I flew. He carried me through it, his tongue flicking over my sensitive flesh so fast. By the time I sprawled on the mattress, spent, I couldn’t remember my name.

  “So sweet. I could eat you alive.”

  He rolled me over as I panted. My throat was dry, and I couldn’t focus on his face. The world blurred around me. Lights danced outside the window. He was a dark spot with a golden halo of hair in the center.

  “I’m not done tasting you yet, sweetheart.”

  Pleasure or pain. Freedom or captivity. Right then, I didn’t know which one was better.

  4

  Jack

  “Fuck.”

  Sweat slid down my chest. Even in the cool room my temperature skyrocketed. I checked to see if steam rose from my arm as I forced my heart to slow. My palms stung, and I flipped them over to inspect them. Four crescent gouges seeped blood in the center of each of my hands. A dream. Just a dream. Visions of blood and death, the many I’d destroyed, and the father who’d left me behind.

  The bed shifted, and I looked over at Melody. She was still wearing the remains of her tattered dress, though the bra was long gone, and her soft and lush breasts pressed into my side as she curled around me. I still smelled her musky scent on my lips, tasted her on my tongue. The cuff on her ankle was bright in the moonlight. I didn’t trust her ass not to try to run again.

  There were only two other motorcycle clubs in the area that would try to come at the Diamond Eaters. Melody wasn’t one of the Old Ladies I’d seen before, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a biker groupie. Women like that would do anything to get the “Property Of” patch and belong to a biker. I exhaled roughly; staring at her wouldn’t answer my question. I’d have to put feelers out instead.

  I hadn’t dreamt of my father in a few years. It was the same dream where I realized I’d taken my anger and frustration out on him, but the hell of what he did loomed over me, crushed me. No matter how hard I fought or easily I killed, I was never more than a rat’s son. Useful, feared, and even admired by some, but club memory reached back to forever. My very bloodline was tainted. It didn’t matter what I fucking did, I wasn’t enough. At least as long as Samuel ruled as President.

  As the son of the former leader who’d lost everything because of my father’s betrayal, Samuel made sure to keep the turmoil of my upbringing alive. It didn’t matter if it had happened fifteen years ago, when we were both nothing more than punk kids s
niffing at puberty. His father eventually went to prison for life, and Samuel to the throne after his uncle relinquished his temporary holding on the vacancy.

  “Shit, this is pointless,” I muttered. My chest was tight as my heart raced. All these years later, it still brought me to me fucking knees.

  It never paid to rehash the past, and most days I didn’t give a shit about it. Samuel poked at me, and I protected the club. The skills I had for the job kept me in my position and above outright suspicion. A tricky ceasefire drew the line between us, but I knew which side held the most power.

  I could kill a hundred men and still not be President.

  I laid the blame of my late-night fuck-my-life session squarely at Melody’s feet. I’d chosen to bring her back instead of kill her because I couldn’t bring myself to hurt her. Sure, I thought as I pulled myself out of bed to head for the bathroom, for a patch member to stake claim to Honey material wasn’t something that was frowned on, but the fact I’d found her on a mission would be. Melody was a risk to the club, and it was my job to find the extent of that risk. Someone had witnessed me committing murder, and that was something the club wouldn’t take sitting down. And every time I made a mistake, my beaten father rose from the ashes like a fucking phoenix to remind me what I had to lose.

  I bled Diamond Eater and spent too much time trying to clear my family name and take the club in the direction it should have been going all along. I wouldn’t lose it behind some pussy playing games. I shook my head as I relieved myself. I could’ve offed her—gotten rid of her body and walked away—but I didn’t. She’d touched a place inside—a spot where my father’s past and my uncertain future didn’t matter.

  “Once I know who has an inside track on my shit, I’ll get rid of her,” I promised myself.

  The mirror thought that sounded like a bunch of bullshit, too.

  “Jack, check those radiator shutters for me, will ya?”