Hellbent (Four Horsemen MC Book 5) (13 page)

"Shep," Pretty Boy panted. His back arched, muscles rolling and twitching as Shep stroked them, and planted his lips in the hollow of Shep's neck.

"Wait …" he panted. What the fuck was he doing? He couldn't do this. This was wrong … wasn't it? He wasn't supposed to have this, and—

"Shep," Pretty Boy growled. "Stop thinking and take your pants off."

Chapter Thirteen

 If you need something, ask the VP. If he can't help you, you don't need it.

~Four Horsemen Prospect Handbook

* * *

Shep's fingers shook as he reached for his belt buckle. He managed to undo everything without falling over, but he was achingly aware of Pretty Boy's hungry gaze watching every second. He pushed them down and off, kicking them towards the door in automatic movement. His cock was rock hard, jutting up and there was no covering it. He looked up to find those flashing green eyes fixed on him.

"Like what you see?" He raised a brow. It was all bravado, internally he shook like a leaf in a tornado.

Pretty Boy smirked and walked into the shower. He stood on the water, his black hair dripping down his cut cheekbones. He rolled his shoulders stiffly, rotating his body until his wet, olive toned skin shone. "Come on in. The water's hot."

Shep's mouth went dry. He followed, temptation a sure-footed leader. Pretty Boy backed up against the shower wall, the water spraying directly in front of him. Shep climbed into the shower, sliding the door closed, but then hesitated.

"Shep," Pretty Boy said softly. His pupils were blown, eyes heavy-lidded and voice lowered to an obscene octave.

Shep closed his eyes and stepped into the water.

The hot spray electrified his nerves as it swept over him. Pretty Boy was inches away, his breathing echoing in the enclosed space. Shep ran his hands through his hair, letting the water wash away whatever dirt he carried with him. He opened his eyes, vision swimming with Pretty Boy's face.

"I need your help," Pretty Boy whispered. He grabbed Shep's Irish Spring soap off the tiny built in shelf and held it out. "Not feeling too flexible right now."

Shep took the soap, swallowing hard. He'd never been a wash cloth guy and he'd be damned before he bought one of those puffball monstrosities. Which only left the soap and hands option. He'd lived alone for years now; it hadn't ever been a problem. He rubbed the green bar between his hands under the water, helpless against picturing where his hands were about to be.

His breath loud in his ears, he set the soap back down and settled his hands on Pretty Boy's shoulders, gliding suds down the tense muscles. Pretty Boy let out a low groan, rolling his neck as Shep's hands slid down his biceps. His fingertips wrapped around the muscle were inches apart from meeting. He squeezed the firm muscle gently.

Pretty Boy hooded eyes were making it difficult for Shep to focus. He slid his hands over to Pretty Boy's chest, letting his palms slid against his firm pecs and flat, pebbled nipples. He took a slow breath. "Turn around."

He smirked. "Yes, sir."

Facing the shower wall, he folded his arms against the damp surface, easing slowly down to rest his forehead against his arms. His back arched, stance wide.

Shep closed his eyes for a second, biting back a growl. He slid his hands side by side, up and down Pretty Boy's back from his shoulder blades to his hips, barely applying pressure, skating softly over scrapes and bruises. Pretty Boy alternated between hisses of momentary pain and long, appreciative moans of pleasure.

     Grabbing his shampoo, he poured a little into his hands and threaded them into the thick, silken masses of Pretty Boy's hair. He scratched his nails lightly over his scalp, earning a low purr of approval. He gently pulled Pretty Boy back, letting the water down the back of his head as Shep carded his fingers through the clean, black waves.

Pretty Boy leaned back against the wall, facing Shep again. "Thank you."

Shep swallowed three times before he managed to rasp, "Don't mention it."

They stood under the water, intimately close, water falling around them as their harsh breaths echoed through the steamy enclosure.  Shep tried to find a reason good enough to make him back up a little. It was getting a little hard to pretend he was just helping a brother out because he'd been injured.

Of course that ship had pretty much sailed when they'd started fucking making out on the goddamn bathroom sink.

His thoughts were interrupted when Pretty Boy pressed his lips together, squeezed his eyes shut and gasped. Shep looked him over, trying to find the injury that had caused the pain. He locked his hands around Pretty Boy's elbows, steadying him. Shep cupped his jaw, holding his gaze. "You alright?"

"I'm … I'm
fine.
I just …" Pretty Boy panted. His fists clenched. "When it hurts, it reminds me how fucking pissed off I am. Then I tense up, it hurts and the cycle repeats."

"I can relate." Shep slicked his wet hair back against his head, lacing his fingers behind his neck. He was having a hard time wrapping his head around having the conversation here. Now. In the shower.
Naked.

Pretty Boy hung his head. "They got the drop on me. I heard them pull up. I was expecting them and they—they got the drop on me. And I just can't shake that feeling."

"Shit happens." Shep's brows drew together. "Not your fault."

"Once they had me on the ground, I knew it was over. I tried to fight, and I just couldn't get loose—" he hiccoughed. "I'm used to taking a beating. I just can't handle …"

"Not being able to fight back," Shep whispered. His chest ached.

Pretty Boy swallowed. "Yeah."

Shep reached up and adjusted the shower head until it sprayed down Pretty Boy's back, bringing their faces dangerously close to each other as he did so. He let his hands slide onto Pretty Boy's knotted shoulders. "I should've got there sooner."

"How did you get there at all? How did you know?"

Shep shrugged. "Hell if I know. Intuition? I was out riding, trying to clear my head, when I saw Eddie's warehouse explode. And I just knew—Beauregard, you, the 'shine …"

Pretty Boy swallowed hard, leaning into Shep's massaging hands. "I can think of better nights I've spent with 'shine."

"Me, too," Shep whispered lowly.

"You know, right up there until the very end of the night, my eighteenth birthday was the best night of my life." Pretty Boy took a deep breath, looking all sorts of steadier. In fact, now he looked a little predatory, his arms braced around Shep's body, leaning down to look at him.

"Really? It was kind of excruciating for me," Shep admitted.

Pretty Boy moved closer, water sluicing over his sides. His voice lowered as he said, "Why is that?"

Shep bit into his lower lip, forcing himself to hold still. He'd seen Pretty Boy react like this before. Maybe not exactly in this context, but the basics were familiar. The back and forth between fear and aggression. The struggle to feel safe again. The
need
to be in control. If that's what Pretty Boy needed from him, he'd fuckin' give it to him. "Because I spent the whole night talkin' myself out of what I wanted."

"So did I." He leaned closer. "Just so you know—right there at the end, that's where I broke. Two more minutes and I would've had my tongue down your throat."

Shep groaned, his eyes sliding shut. The memories flooded him with heat. Pretty Boy had been his first—the first man he'd ever been attracted to. It had wrecked his life. Every fucking part. But the agonized longing for what he couldn't have, held a sacred sort of enjoyable pain.  And the only thing from those days that Shep didn't hate was Pretty Boy. Maybe he was about to fuckin' repeat history—throw away everything he'd built with the club because he wanted in Pretty Boy's pants so badly he couldn't walk straight.

He couldn't give a fuck about that right now.

Shrugging off Shep's hands, Pretty Boy moved in like he'd box in an opponent, getting all up in his space, close to his face. "I should have jumped you in the bed of your truck while I had the chance."

Heat rocked through Shep's core. He growled, "Think you could have?"

"Yeah," Pretty Boy whispered. "So do you."

His hands fisted at his sides. Shep wanted so badly to grab Pretty Boy, yank them together and fell his body head to toe. To fuse their mouths together and lose himself completely. But he needed to let Pretty Boy move this forward. Let him be in control.

Pretty Boy hesitated for another second, lips hovering over Shep's mouth. He made a hitched sound of anticipation and Pretty Boy broke, kissing him slow and filthy. Velvety warm lips, questing tongue and sharp nips of teeth had Shep shuddering as he returned the kiss. Pretty Boy pressed up against him, hands sliding through Shep's hair as he brought their hips flush together.

Shep let out a low, throaty moan. He grabbed Pretty Boy's hips, fingers digging into his flesh. He gasped, "You're driving me up a fucking wall."

"Not a bad idea." Pretty Boy snaked around him. He had him flipped with his back pressed to the wall in a blink of the eye. Shep just caught the slight wince as Pretty Boy readjusted his weight to ease something he'd strained.

The tiny space filled with steam, droplets clinging to Pretty Boy's thick lashes as he stared down at Shep, throat working. His head dipped and he grazed his teeth along Shep's neck. Goosebumps rose in his wake. Shep clamped his hands on Pretty Boy's shoulders, body arching.

Pretty Boy's lips slid up his neck, nibbling along his jawline to his ear. "I get what you're doing. Letting me drive here."

Shep's breathing grew ragged. "I …"

"You know what I need,"
Pretty Boy purred, voice vibrating Shep's eardrums. "I appreciate that."

"Fuck," Shep said, the word drawn out as he dragged his lower lip between his teeth. It was one thing to let someone else have control and a whole other animal to let them know it.

"That's what I want," Pretty Boy confessed. "Right now, I want to fuck you. Still think I deserved you coming to my rescue?"

Shep's body pulsed at his words, empathy and arousal swirling in an intoxicating mix through his stomach. The words came from something deep and aching inside when he said, "Someday I'm going to prove to you what you're worth."

Pretty Boy laughed shallowly. He ground against Shep, his dick hard and thick against his hipbone. "I know my worth."

"Shut your fucking mouth," Shep growled. He cupped Pretty Boy's sharp cheekbones in his hands and pressed their lips together.

Pretty Boy strained against him, shoving Shep's shoulders back against the wall, leveraging his weight with practiced ease. He reached down and when his hand wrapped around Shep's cock, he made a needy, rasping noise, swaying on his knees.  Pretty Boy smiled at the noise. "God, I love the fucking sounds you make."

"Fuck you," Shep said, the heartfelt groan that followed belying his tongue.

Pretty Boy shifted and his cock slid along Shep's length, the water from the shower streaming between them. The movement wrenched a strangled, choking sound from Shep and he smacked his fist against the wall.  Pretty Boy pressed his lips against the shell of Shep's ear. "You know, there's something else you could give me a hand with."

"Yeah?" Shep gasped, his body moving however the fuck it wanted now to get closer to Pretty Boy, and paying zero fucking attention to whatever straggling thoughts Shep could force from his brain.

"I've been stuck in the hospital for days, and I just really want to get off, climb in bed and sleep until the bruises wake me." He rotated his hips, rubbing them together is a hitching slide. "Problem is my shoulder's not quite up to getting the job done."

Shep groaned. "You want me to jerk you off?"

"I'd do you, too but again—shoulder's out of commission. Holding myself up's about all I got in me right now," Pretty Boy whispered softly.

"Let me help you," Shep murmured. Gently he rearranged them, so that Shep leaned against the wall of the shower and Pretty Boy leaned against his good shoulder beside him, Shep's arm looped loosely around his waist.

"Lucky for me if I hold still, this is a good position for my ribs." Pretty Boy took a shaking breath. "So, this is a yes, then?"

Shep lifted his hand hesitantly, the loud sound of his breathing distracting. This wasn't actually a reasonable request, right? He shouldn't be doing this. But … oh, he was going to. His hand closed firmly around Pretty Boy's hard dick, circling the head and stroking down in a firm, slick slide.

Pretty Boy gasped, visibly straining to remain motionless.

"Is this good?" Shep asked, lips grazing Pretty Boy's jawline and hand working his erection.

"Y-y-es," Pretty Boy stuttered. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands fisting.

Shep's whole body was shaking, his cock swollen and thick, pulsing against his hipbone. He dragged his mouth up to Pretty Boy's ear. "Tell me how you want it."

"Slow … hard … " Pretty Boy panted, neck arching and head tilting back as Shep's palm rolled around the head of his cock. "Relentless."

"Like this?" Shep asked silkily as he complied.

"Fuck yes," he groaned, biting his lip. "You, too. Get us both off."

Shep had never heard a better fucking idea in his life. He usually didn't have much luck with lefty, since he wasn't a southpaw like Pretty Boy. But as revved as his fucking engines were right now, the stream of the shower had done half the work already. He hissed as he grasped his own cock. He couldn't help but mimic the movements of his other hand. Competing rhythms were too damn difficult right now.

The effect achieved one of the most erotic moments of Shep's entire life.  The flesh beneath his hands pulse and throbbed, Pretty Boy's hitching breath adding a sensual beat between Shep's strokes.

Pretty Boy's hips swiveled trying to fuck into Shep's hands and he winced, but wheezed out, "Don't you dare fucking stop.
Holy fuck."

Shep's hands tightened, adding a twisting slide to his movements that had them both cursing and arching in time. His eyes locked with Pretty Boy's, the green irses barely visible around the black pools of his pupils. Shep leaned forward, sinking his teeth firmly into Pretty Boy's full, lower lip.