Don’t You Pucking Dare (The Blackridge Reapers #2)

Chapter 30

I’m dreaming.

I’m dreaming that Brody’s dick is down my throat, restricting my airway, and Jack’s devilish tongue is licking me like I’m a fucking goddess.

When I wake up, only one of those things is true. I glance at the head between my legs and grab his head of hair, inhaling at the ecstasy. Brody glances up at me with a smile.

"Good morning, Duchess."

Oh, fuck. My head falls back on my pillow as I ride his face. His tongue is faster, feels better than you-know-who. He starts to finger me, and it makes me ache so deeply for his dick that I start begging for it.

"Just… just fuck me already," I moan. I need his big dick to fill me right now.

He works his tongue faster, spreading my legs wider. He spits on my pussy and then slips his dick right in. I’m thrown off for a second and then it turns me on to feel his spit lubricating my entrance. When he’s hovering over me, his lips find mine. Our lips dance to a melody that makes my fingers ache for my cello as I kiss him back, clenching my pussy to grip him as much as possible.

He grabs the back of my knee and holds my leg up. I start moaning at how amazing this new position feels, and then he forms another ball of spit and it lands right between my lips.

My eyes widen at the contact. It’s cold and why the fuck would he spit in my mouth? I swallow it, staring up at him.

He slides in and out with rhythm. "You’re mine, Duchess."

He pulls out and dives his tongue straight into my clit. Oh, fuck. He works me up and then slides back in. He keeps doing this and it’s working up a fine-dining rich orgasm that makes me want to suck the cum out of his cock. I’m on the edge of bursting when he stops.

"What’re you doing?" I ask, the swelling of my overused pussy is pulsating. Being fucked this much throughout the night is going to catch up to me. And my head is still pounding. The haze of the drugs and alcohol have subsided a little more. I’m not so numb anymore.

"Making you wait until after breakfast. Get your ass up." He smacks my clit with his fingers and then moves around the bed.

Get up? I sit up on my elbows, and my vision goes blurry. Shit, my head. I lay back down. I think about leaving this room. I don’t think I walk. I don’t think I could face Jack. I sit straight up, letting my head rush. Did I fuck Jack?

I shake my head, keeping my eyes closed because my brain isn’t catching up to my movements. "I don’t want to leave this room."

Brody starts putting on his clothes, and I wish he wouldn’t. His tattoos crawl across his chest and dance down his arms. A man as fine as him should be studied. There’s no amount of torture that could keep me away. Well… because… look him.

"Okay. Breakfast in bed then." He pinches my pussy lips and winks at me. Then he’s out the door, shutting it behind him.

I lay back on the bed, wondering what the hell I was thinking early this morning. My memories hazy, but I recall seeing him in the bathroom, sneaking into his room, and him fucking me. I rub my eyes. Guilt claws at me because of Brody. Maybe the fucking me and eating my pussy while I’m asleep is a red flag, but I’ll ignore it if it means I have access to him.

I grab my phone and dial the facility where my mom is. On the second ring, they answer. I asked to speak to my mom.

"She’s unavailable."

My heart pounds. "No. You’re not doing this to me again. Let me talk to her. Is she even there? I thought she was released."

"I’m afraid that I cannot release patient information to you."

I scoff. "Excuse me, I’m her daughter. I’m her primary contact! I used to come in every week. I’m on the list!"

"I’m sorry, but you’re not on the list, and we value our patient’s privacy. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Yes, actually! Can I still visit her?"

"I’m sorry, Miss Kemper, but you will be denied visitation as you are no longer on the list."

I stand up. "Are you serious? Can you please just tell me if she’s there," I beg.

"Unfortunately, it is client confidentiality, and I’m unable to give you private information."

"This is bullshit! Let me talk to whoever’s in charge."

"Sure," she says way too fast.

She transfers me, but it doesn’t ring. Instead, a chipper woman’s voicemail blasts into my eardrum, telling me to leave a message.

God fucking damn it!

Beep.

"My name is Lola Kemper, and the front desk is refusing to let me know the whereabouts of my mother, and I’m only calling to ensure her safety. I will have to make a police report if you do not call me back within the next… let’s see… five minutes. No, you know what, I’ll be calling them as soon as this voicemail ends. The police will be arriving at your facility to check on the well-being of my mother." Click.

I wait five minutes like an idiot, but my phone doesn’t ring. Instead, Brody walks in with a big plate of breakfast food. I take the plate from him and put it on the nightstand. I need him to fuck me right now.

I have a throbbing head, body, and pussy. One of those needs relief.

I pull Brody’s neck down for a kiss, and he’s already gripping my ass and trying to remove my shirt. I do it for him, and then I stick my hand into his pants and start stroking his dick. I bite his lip and ask, "Do you want to fuck my throat."

He doesn’t answer, instead, he takes off his pants. I kneel below him, keeping my eyes on his. My pussy is throbbing at the idea of him fucking my mouth. Or my pretty face, as he says.

"I want you to drown me," I say, rubbing my hands across his stomach and then his ass. It’s pure muscle as I pull him towards me. "I’ve been really, really bad, Brody."

He gleams as he forces his dick into my mouth. I try to pull back to ask him a question, but he doesn’t approve. He yanks my hair to hold my head in place.

"You’ve been bad, Lola?" he asks as he thrusts down my throat, stealing every ounce of my breath. I start gagging and trying to cough out his dick, but he holds it there, fucking me until I start seeing stars.

When he pulls out, I cough, clutching at my neck. I stand, trying to catch my breath. I hold my hand to his chest, but he doesn’t give a fuck. He pushes me down onto the bed, face first, and smacks my ass. I hear him spit and then I feel the coolness touch my pussy. He forces his dick into me, pulling my hair back.

"What the fuck did you do, Lola? Why have you been a bad girl?"

A thrill courses through my body. This is why I want to be bad. I want to know what my punishment will be.

"If you’re not going to tell me, then I’ll just have to fuck it out of you."

But my lips are sealed. He fucks me hard, moving the bed until the corner hits a wall. He’s fucking me hard and fast. I feel him coming inside of me, but that doesn’t stop him.

"Oh, fuck," I mutter. "Are you using my pussy? You like my fucking my pussy, Brody?"

He spanks my ass really hard, and I wince in pain. But he doesn’t end there, he yanks my hair and says, "Tell me what you did, Duchess."

I don’t answer, so he grabs my throat, about to cut off my air supply. My vision goes blurry. Fuck, I need medicine for these aches and pains.

I offer, "Eye for an eye. Tell me where my mom is."

He fucks me hard and fast until I’m orgasming all over him, my wetness spilling down our legs.

He pulls out, panting. "I’m not telling you a goddamn thing."

I turn around. "Then I’m going to the cops."

He grabs my throat in pure rage, a threat gleaming deep in his eyes. "No, you’re not."

I peer up at him. “Rick Kemper had her tied up in a trunk last night, and the facility won’t tell me if she was admitted back in or if she’s still gone. I have to go to the police and show them the pictures."

He seethes, getting right into my face, "You’re not going to the fucking cops, Duchess. Do not become a bigger issue than you already are."

"Issue?" I echo, wondering what happened when he went to fetch breakfast. Did he and Jack have a nice chit chat without me?

"Liability… do you know what happens to the liabilities?" He pauses. "They get killed."

I grab his wrist, pushing him closer to my neck. My body is begging for rest. The drugs and alcohol from last night are too much, and I’m weak. I mutter, "Then choke me with that fucking dick again, and this time, don’t pull out."

He smiles, releasing my throat. I cough, trying to steady myself. He walks over to the plate of food and grabs it.

"Eat," he demands.

I take the plate from him and sit on the bed to be a good girl and eat my food.

The bedroom feels smaller after hours alone in it. Expensive sheets tangle around my legs as I try to find a position that doesn't make my head throb worse. The chloroform hangover mixes with actual hangover, turning every movement into pure agony. Through the heavy curtains, afternoon light creates weird shadows on the walls—or maybe that's just the drugs still messing with my head.

Brody comes back into the bedroom, smelling like soap and coffee. He's changed into fresh clothes, looking annoyingly put together while I feel like total shit.

"When can I leave?" I push myself up against the headboard, fighting another wave of stars in my vision. Fuck, when is it going to end?

He sits on the edge of the bed. "Not yet. Still waiting on the all-clear."

"I know what you said earlier about my mom." My throat feels raw. "I’m sorry. I didn’t call the cops, but did the guys say anything?"

"They're searching Kemper's properties." He turns his head so I can hear him clearly. "Including car trunks."

The casual way he says it makes my stomach turn. "You really think he'd—"

"I think Rick Kemper was capable of anything." He shakes his head. "It’s not like I knew the guy, but you saw him for yourself."

The idea burns my eyes. If my mom’s still tied up in a trunk, I’m a fucking coward for not searching for her. And if she’s free, then I know I won’t be hearing from her. She’ll find drugs as soon as possible.

"She really gets to you, doesn't she?" Brody faces me now. I don’t know if that’s the sound of concern or curiosity. Maybe he’s calling me out because it’s written all over my face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

"Your mom." He leans back on the headboard. "The addict whore who can't get her shit together."

The tears evaporate, replaced by razor-sharp clarity. "What the fuck, Brody? You think you know me now? You’re the one with mommy issues. Where's your mom these days, Brody?"

His laugh holds no humor. "Last I heard she was fucking her way across Europe. Guess we both won the mother lottery."

"Is that what this is?" I gesture between us. "You picked the girl with mommy issues to match your own, and now we get to battle with whoever has it worse?"

"You're the one who won’t be quiet about your mom." But he doesn't deny it.

I lean forward. "She was in a fucking trunk, Brody!" I grab my phone, pull up the images, and shove it in his face. The images make me dizzy.

Brody looks at them and shrugs. His eyes to cut to mine again. "Did you let Rick Kemper in?"

I shake my head. "He’s full of shit."

He grabs my neck again, staring into my eyes. This is a dangerous game.

"This time," he whispers, "you’re not going to lie to me. Did. You. Let. Him. In?"

"No. I did not."

He releases me, and I sink back into the pillows, head pounding. "I just want to go back to my life. I want to get out of here."

His anger has simmered down, so I think he finally trusts that I’m telling the truth. "It's fall break. No one's gonna know a thing."

I roll my eyes. "Don't you have hockey practice or something? A game coming up?"

"Break applies to everyone."

"My head's killing me," I mumble into the pillow.

"Chloroform's a bitch." He doesn't apologize. We both know he'd do it again if he had to. "Try to sleep it off."

I turn away from him, curling into myself. His hand finds my hair anyway, fingers working through the tangles like he has the right. Like he isn't the reason I'm here.

But he's also the reason I'm alive. That's the problem with Brody Black—he's both the poison and the cure.