Wed to the Bad Boy (32 page)

“Please, Cullen,” I managed, my voice raw.  “Please make me cum again.”

He grinned, proud of what he had done.  Kissing my neck, he reached under my shirt, pulling it off and over my head and leaving me completely bare before him. 

“You are so damn hot.” He bent down and kissed my breast, sucking the round and then the nipple.  Running that very skilled tongue over the sensitive flesh.  He was making me absolutely insane.  I’d just cum, yet I was on fire for him again.  I wanted more.  Wanted more of him.

Fuck.  More.  I needed more.

“Please, Cul.  Baby, I can’t.  I need you.  Please.” I bucked at the air, my want driving me over the edge.  I was wanton for him.  My desire couldn’t be tamed anymore.  I needed him.  I wouldn’t survive if I didn’t have his cock inside of me.

“Tell me you need me.  Tell me exactly what you need,” he demanded as he looked down over me.  He knew what I needed.  Now he was being cruel.  Now he was making me pay for leaving him.

I deserved it.

“I need you,” I whispered.  I was shaking, afraid he would stop to punish me.  “I need your cock.  I need you inside of me.  Please, Cullen,” I breathed.  “Please don’t make me wait.” I pawed at his chest and bit my lip, trying to hold on to my emotions, but they were spilling over.  The walls were all broken now, and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

“That’s my girl.  You need me.  You want me? You get me, Layla.  You.” He spread my legs with his hands and then reached into me again, parting my nether-lips.

When he entered me, nothing else mattered.

That thick cock filled every inch of me and then some, and I immediately breathed a sigh of relief as he filled me up.  That was what I needed.  That was the only thing that was going to make me feel better.  And he was the only one who could give it to me the way I wanted.

It felt right.  We were puzzle pieces that fit together.

He stayed there just for a moment, letting my body adjust to him before he started to thrust.  He pulled out of me slowly at first and that ache returned, the one that I couldn’t control.  It wanted him in me, pushing at me, pounding me harder.  But he intended to break me down at his own pace.

The tempo of his thrusts steadily increased until he had complete control.  I cried out again and again as he pinned down my shoulders and took over, pistoning inside me as hard as possible.

I’d never felt so fulfilled in all my life.

I growled and screamed liked a wild animal as I writhed underneath him, pushing my hips to meet his, bucking into him.  Each thrust I tried to match, to bring as much force possible.  But it still wasn’t enough.  I wanted more.  I wanted all of him.  I couldn’t be satisfied by anything else..

“Cum for me, Lala.  Cum on my cock.  I want that little pussy to squeeze me until it can’t get any tighter.” He hissed the words as he delved into me, now grabbing my hips for even better support.  He slammed into me and made my hips slam into him, taking control of my body and his.  Letting me submit completely to the raw, savage pleasure.

“Beg me.  Beg me,” I said, over and over again.  He was going to beg me just like I’d begged him.

“Fuck.  Cum for me, Layla.  Please.  I need you to cum.  I need to feel it.  I want to feel you from the inside.” He was begging or demanding.  I wasn’t sure which.  I didn’t care.  With a shriek, I came, my body spasming around his cock so suddenly and so strong that he threw his head back and joined me.

Without realizing what I was doing, I arched upright, grabbing him by his hair and devouring him, sucking him in deeper.  .  He came with me, groaning and thrusting deep into me one final time, as deep as he could go.  There was pain blurring with the pleasure, and then my body relaxed, finally satisfied.

I fell against him, my lips at his throat.  Even spent, his arms were strong, holding us steady as he slid us amidst the sheets.  He kept himself inside me as we both recovered, clinging to one another, holding one another.

When it was all over, he held me.  His warm body against mine.  The two of us not talking as we accepted what happened.  What had passed between us.

I told him I just needed him once to get him out of my system, but I was lying.  Holding the palm of his hand to my face, I knew now that was never leaving.  Not if I had a choice.  If I didn’t have more of him, I wasn’t going to be able to go on.

It was like trying a drug.  As a teen, I had thought once would be enough, that I could move on.  But once would never be enough.  I should have known that.  Now, I was hooked again.  I’d had another shot of Cullen, and that was all it took.

I was a junkie for his touch.

Chapter 8

Cullen

I wanted her again.  Wanted to touch her.  Wanted to feel her.  Wanted her up against me, begging me for more.

I gave my bike a once-over in the club parking lot, but let my gaze drifted across the alley to the shop.  She was in there.  Working.  Doing exactly what we told her to.

Our job was to keep her safe.  Keep her protected.  Keep her close.

She was too close.  I needed her again. 

She was coming with me on this ride.  Riders and their ol’ ladies would be at the lodge out west of here, partying it up.  I kept telling myself that it was the perfect opportunity to get more involved with Snake’s gang and to build closer ties.  The truth was that it was the perfect place to lose myself after yesterday.  And I was willing to do just about anything to convince Layla to lose herself with me.

It had been a week since we’d started sleeping together.  After all these years, she had amazed me.  She had always been serious, careful even.  Until she wasn’t. 

When Layla knew what she wanted, she was the equal of any man. 

Now that she was grown…

Shit, she’d always been different for me.  A girl I could understand. 

Now
she
knew who she was, and it showed.  In the way she carried herself.  In the set of her shoulders and her confident but quiet stride.

Some women strutted around like they owned the world but it was just an act for them.  Like Brandy.  She was always acting tough, but the drugs gave her away, showed that she was insecure.  Afraid to look weak.  Always screaming she didn’t need anybody when she really needed the help.

Brandy’s bitching made her weak.

Layla’s strength was real.  I had never doubted that I’d face any challenge, that I’d die fighting.  I’d never been a coward.  But with Layla, I felt even stronger.  Quicker.  More focused. 

For years, I’d been willing to die for the Fire and Steel.

I’d been living, but now I had a reason to live.  For Layla.  For the MC.  For myself.  Now I knew what it really meant to be free.  To truly rebel.  Because for the first time in my life I was afraid to lose something.  I was afraid to lose her.

But I wasn’t going to let it stop me.  Losing her once had nearly broken me, but I was going to love her anyway.  I was going to avenge her brother.  My friend. 

That was what it was to be brave.  To feel fear but not let it stop you.  To dare anyway.  To risk the pain because it was more important to truly live. 

I looked down at my VP patch.  I knew what it stood for.  Hell, I knew what it all was for.  We wouldn’t have survived in this neighborhood if it wasn’t for the Warriors.  We wouldn’t have made it out of here alive.  It was a hell that we were born into, and the Fire and Steel had been our salvation.

I was almost finished looking over my bike when I saw them.  A piece of shit car on giant wheels complete with spinners as it came up the road.  The kid—couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old—in the passenger side lobbed something at our clubhouse, and then they sped off.  Fuck.  It went off in a loud blast, exploding against the far side wall of our building, busting the mortar like a wound out into the parking lot. 

Either a nail bomb or a grenade.  I wasn’t sure which.

I flatted out on the ground, debris crackling around me against the asphalt.  When the shower of brick died away, I ran into the clubhouse to assess the damage.  But not before I spotted two more cars loaded with men headed our way.

“Shit!” “What the hell?” a prospect hollered.

I slapped him on the back to steady him and sent him to help is buddies.  They’d been sitting nearest to the crumbling wall. 

“We are under attack,” I shouted over the chaos.  “Hound’s Breath.  Here!” Instantly, I had everyone’s attention.  “Get the guns! Be smart about this.” They knew what I meant.  We had a plan in place.

The recruits hurried in with the guns: shotguns, hand pieces, a bazooka.  Bones took the AK-47.

As tires screeched in the parking lot, we snatched up what suited us, then took up positions.  A few of the men ran out to claim the best positions in the lot.  Bones was directing another group to their windows.

The Hounds were a long and lanky bunch, most of them just kids.  But the guns in their hands were very real.  Their arms weren’t automatics, but they gotten ahold of some pretty damn powerful shit. 

I had a Browning down the back of my belt and loaded a shotgun.  My job in Bones plan suited me. 

Get to the damn garage.  Make sure Layla was safe. 

I had to make sure she was okay.  I had to get to her.

I weaved through the series of obstacles, using our bikes as a barricade.  It was an easy maneuver.  These assholes were too busy focusing on the men shooting at them to notice me.  A few shot after me, recognizing that I might be setting up to cut them off.  But they couldn’t get the rest to help them.  These were a bunch of kids, all hot blood and no organization.   They were shooting without really aiming, hitting around their targets instead of at them.  That was what happened when you put guns into the hands of children.  You got piss-poor marksmanship.

Whatever idiot had set this mess up, I was grateful to them..  It helped me reach get across the lot in one piece. 

I dove into the garage through a bay and walked around, my gun ready in my hand as I checked each corner.  Kept my breathing steady.  Kept focused.

Layla was smart.  She’d known we were sparring with the Hounds.  Her family was MC.  She knew what was coming.  I had to believe that she had hidden after the explosion.

But they don’t call it shell shock for nothing.  Layla was no idiot, but she had never lived the life.

When I kicked in that door I saw a lone Hound, knife out, rushing toward her, a hungry look in his eyes.  He didn’t just mean to steal her then.

I acted quickly, did it smart.  I grabbed the little shit from behind and disarmed him, forcing him into a headlock until he was out cold.  Not dead.

Good.

I caught Layla’s eye as I lowered the kid to the floor.  She couldn’t hide her relief.  Reminded me of what I could do when I lost it.  I knew she didn’t like that side of me. 

It was a problem we were going to have to figure out later. 

Right now, though, letting the kid live made talking her out of her shock easier. 

Sean and I had prepared a few of the recruits for fights, so I knew what to look for.  Layla was trembling and pale, but her eyes were steady.  That was important.  Clear vision meant that she was adapting to the situation. 

“Layla.  Layla.” My touch seemed to calm her.  I repeated myself to make sure she understood me.  “Layla.  Get down.   I’m going to cover the bay.” She gripped my arm, as if to make me stay, but I shook her off.  “I gotta watch the bay or they can get in, Layla.”

That seemed to get through. 

“I need you to stay quiet until the cops come.  Then you get the fuck out of here, you got me? Go home and wait for me.  Text me when you get there.” I wanted to pull her into my arms, to check her over.  That motherfucker.  I spit on him, then look at her. 

She had heard me but she still was frozen there, staring at me.  As if her brain was trying to catch up.

“Hide!” I yelled, shaking her into motion.

“Okay!” she yelped.

As she fumbled around through the scattered paperwork and overturned furniture, a loud wailing started up, not far in the distance. 

Sirens.  Finally.  Took those motherfuckers long enough. 

The cops were part of the plan.  We paid some of them for this kind of protection, but they never fucking came when we needed them to scare off little shits like this.

It seemed like Bones had really pulled out all the stops this time, though.

By the time I emerged from the garage most of the Hounds had run.  My men were standing around, holstering their guns.

No one had been shot that I could see.  No one hurt.

“You get any of those bastards?” I asked Thrash.

“Winged quite a few of them.  Enough to send them running.”

“But you didn’t kill any?”

He shrugged.  “Didn’t have to.” So he’d noticed their shitty aim, too.

“Good.  That’ll make the questions easier to answer.  Anyone hurt?”

“Here!” Mick called out and my blood went cold.  What the fuck was the old geezer doing out there? Layla was going to kill me if I let her Uncle take a bullet.

I expected to find him bleeding.  Instead, he was holding one of the prospects.  The kid was dead. 

Troy.

“Fuck,” I said, looking him over.  Clean shot, right in the goddamn head.

Lucky-ass shot.

“Shit.  Shit!” I kicked over an empty barrel and ran my hands through my hair, then pulled the kid off of Mick so that he could get up. 

“I tried to catch him,” Mick was saying. 

I just shook my head. 

The old geezer wasn’t strong enough anymore to carry a child, much less young man.

“Anyone else?” I asked.  No answers.

“What the hell happened?” Ah, the motherfucking police chief was here.

“What happened was you assholes took your fucking time getting over here and one of our men got killed.  Fucking gangs are running this place, George, and you can’t even keep it under control.” I was livid.  Spewing my venom at him.

“Fuck.” George radioed the crew.

“Call it in as a drive-by, George.  Don’t tell them shit.  We were just out here getting ready for a run.  Nothing more just a drive-by.” Bones stepped in, doing exactly what he was supposed to.

George was Mick’s cousin.  The man was securely in our pockets, and Bones knew just how to handle him.

“All right.  You fire back?”

“We did, but just out of self-defense,” he said.

“Kill anyone?” George knew exactly what to ask to make it all go away.

“No.”

“Then it sounds like anyone else who got shot may have gotten a dose of friendly fire, right? Because you all didn’t fire back.” Contrary to the smell of sulfur still the air.

“Yeah, sounds about right.”

“You going to take care of this?” I asked him, looking him in the eyes.  It was difficult because the dust was still wafting up from the aftereffects of whatever kind of crude bomb the gang used.

“Yeah, we’ll take care of this.  Keep Caputo out of it.  Motherfucker would have a field day.”

“Fucking cops.” I snorted, but George narrowed his eyes at me.  It was then that I realized Troy’s blood was still on my hands, the sticky liquid drying hard, pulling at my skin.

“Still, have to get someone to come examine your boy.”

Fuck.  The last thing I wanted was another funeral.

“You got any reason for me to search the place?” That asshole was still passed out in the office.  Fuck.

“No.  And no, we don’t know who it was.  Just some gang,” I was quick to say, but I shot a look to Bones.

“All right, well, I’ll send for backup.”

We were able to get that motherfucker in the basement of the garage before anyone else arrived, and they scooped up Troy before we could protest, carting him off to examine him.  If it was anything like Sean, he’d be released just in time for the funeral.  Another one dead at the hands of these motherfuckers.

“What the hell happened?” I asked, looking at Bones.

“They must’ve gotten wind of the dry up of supply.  Figured it was us, thought they’d pay us a little visit.”

“Oh, I’ll pay them a visit, all right.” Mick sucked in a breath, but I cut him off.

“We have to be smart about this shit.  We have to do it right.  Right now, we have this motherfucker.  Let’s send a little message to his friends, right?”

We waited for him.  He was responsive, so just a few more minutes and he should have been awake.  Almost felt bad for what he was about to endure.  Almost.

This motherfucker could’ve been the one who killed Sean.  He’d almost gotten to Layla.  He was going to pay for his sins, and the sins of his brothers.  We wouldn’t kill him, just send him home as the messenger.  One with our initials carved into his skin.

***

“What do you know, you stupid motherfucker?”

“N-Nothing, I swear.” He was tied to a chair in the basement while we questioned him.  The lights bounced off the workbench filled with knives, daggers, switchblades and clubs.  We kept them there to intimidate, but also because it was practical.  It was shared storage, and it seemed to work.  Old blood was the only color in the place, the streams of it heading towards the floor drain where it ultimately dried.

“Oh yeah, that’s why you were about to kill a woman, you piece of shit?” I was on edge, the rage ready to take over.  Layla.  She could’ve been killed.  It was too much to think about.

“I wasn’t going to kill her, honest.  Just wanted to scare her.”

“Yeah, and I’m going to let you walk out of here completely unscathed.” I punched him right in the face, hard.  Not enough to knock him out, but enough that he’d feel it.  That was for Layla.  My Layla.