Chapter Five #2
“No, there’s something sharp inside the cuffs.
I was pulling and yanking to free myself.
I didn’t notice it cut me until the blood was dripping down my arms.” Her words should calm me, but they don’t.
She hurt herself, and that’s not any better.
I release her arm and walk to the bathroom, wetting a washcloth with warm water to clean her up before returning with her set of cuffs.
Her skin is warm in my palm as I drag the damp cloth over her arm, wiping up the blood until her pretty, fair skin is clean.
Saige’s breathing is shallow; her head dipped to the side as if watching me clean her up would be the worst thing in the world.
Once I’m done, I unlock the first cuff, her hand falling to her lap limply.
She rotates her wrist, stretching out the tendons.
The moment the second is free, I realize my mistake.
This is no docile, easily won-over woman.
Saige’s fist flies from out of nowhere, my head clocking to the side from the sheer force of it. I leave my head tilted to the side, stretching out my jaw and swiping the smear of blood from my lip that pools almost instantly. Fucking brat.
Turning back to face her, I narrow my eyes, just in time to see the second punch coming my way.
I snatch her wrist, yanking it to the side with just enough force to control her movement.
Her other hand is quick to take its place, raising fast as a fucking viper ready to strike.
I quickly drag her onto her back, her legs wrapping around my waist and squeezing.
With more effort than I should need, I get her wrists contained in one hand, holding them above her head.
I use my other to wrestle myself from the hold she has on me with her thighs.
As much as I love the feeling of them wrapped around me, her warm, bare skin I so badly want to touch and pleasure, she’s about to burst some essential organs.
Once I get her pinned underneath me, her chest heaving with breath, I look down at her. Flawless ivory skin, her cheeks dusted with natural pink, pouty lips that I want to sink my teeth into, hair a wild mess around her face. She’s a fucking knockout. A dangerous, lethal knockout.
“That was the one and only shot you’re going to get. If it’s a fight you want, baby, then just say so. But you’re not gonna take your shit out on me. Do you understand?”
“Fuck you!” she spits with venom, her voice sharp, cutting through the air like fangs against flesh.
Every word out of her mouth is laced with contempt, her tone seething and barely controlled, the sheer intensity of her loathing fueling her.
Saige doesn’t just say words, she fucking strikes with them.
I thrust my hips forward slightly, letting her feel just how hard she made me. Her reaction is priceless, seductive brown eyes blown wide, her lids becoming heavier, her breath hitching—a quick intake of air that makes my dick even harder.
“Is a fuck what you want, vixen? Just say the word and I’ll have us both moaning well into the morning.
You want your pussy filled? Eaten? Fuck, I bet you taste so damn good.
” My voice is low, a sultry, deep baritone that’s warm on her skin.
Saige pulls her bottom lip between her teeth as she takes a deep, settling breath that raises her chest to brush against my own.
Goddamn, I want this woman, without anything at all between us.
“Get the fuck off me. Now.”
“As you wish.” I climb off her a split second later, holding her wrists firmly in my grasp as I re-cuff them to my headboard, this time lower so she isn’t so stretched out. I’m gonna have to have a little chat with Malice about the special surprise that’s embedded into these cuffs.
“Get comfortable, time for sleep.”
“What? You’re staying in here with me?” She has the audacity to look shocked, even through her icy exterior. God, why is her strength such a turn-on? No one stands up to me like she does.
“You think I’m letting you out of my sight? I don’t trust you.” Even though I want to.
“I’m handcuffed to the goddamn bed like a prisoner! Where the hell am I going to go? Are you dense?”
“I’m sure you’d find a way to get out of it if I left you alone long enough, I’m not taking any chances with my brothers in the other rooms sleeping.” I pull my shirt off over my head with one hand, then push my denim jeans down my legs, tossing them over the chair next to the bed.
“What the fuck, Camden?” she demands as I pull the blanket and sheet back.
“Problem?”
“You’re not sleeping in just your boxer briefs next to me.”
I look down at my bare chest, the tattoos that cover it, all the way to the tight black boxer briefs barely containing my semi-hard dick.
“I’m sure as shit not sleeping in my clothes in my own bed.”
“Whatever. It’s your funeral if you try to touch me.”
“Vixen, when I touch you for the first time, you’ll be begging for it. And it’ll never be against your will.”
“Like I believe you.”
“You don’t have to. Doesn’t make it any less true. I’ve never taken a woman against her will—unless she’s pretending—and I never will. Now go to bed.”
Saige huffs as she shimmies down the bed, her jacket riding up and revealing a strip of bare skin above her shorts. My eyes trace over it, all soft, perfect skin, her navel pierced with a single barbell.
My mouth salivates.
My dick hardens further.
“Like what you see?”
“You know I do, vixen. Just like I know you feel the same. You think I haven’t felt the heat of your eyes tracing over me? I bet if I slipped my hands between your thighs, your pussy would be wet for me.”
“Uncuff me and you can find out.”
I chuckle under my breath. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Would you want my fingers or my tongue first?”
“If I had my way, Camden, you’d be the one handcuffed to the bed while I rode your face, fucking myself on your tongue. After I came all over you, then I’d take your big dick inside me. I bet you’d fill me so good.”
I’m not shocked easily, if ever, and this woman has done it more in the last few hours than most have in my entire life.
A fucking queen is right.
I grip my aching cock over my briefs, sliding my palm over the hard length, biting my bottom lip.
“If only I trusted you.”
“Who needs trust to share orgasms?”
“I do. Now go to bed.”
Releasing my cock, I slip into bed next to her, lying on my back and tucking my hands behind my head.
I stare up at the ceiling, listening to Saige’s breathing as she tries to get comfortable with her wrists cuffed to the headboard.
I know it has to be hurting her, but she doesn’t complain, and something about her suffering in silence doesn’t sit well with me.
But I have to stay resolute in my decisions.
I’m this club’s leader. I can’t take any chances.
Not when their lives are at stake. This club is all I have, and it means everything to me.
Lucas and I were orphans, left to fend for ourselves by our druggie parents who disappeared and left us in an abandoned apartment for weeks before the landlord started coming around asking for rent.
I did everything I could to keep us afloat.
But I was only thirteen. When child protective services came, I knew they’d separate us.
Lucas was eleven, I was already a teenager, and I knew foster care was going to be a gamble I couldn’t afford to take.
We were all each other had. I’d die before we were separated.
While Lucas and I were packing, I grabbed everything I could and snuck us out the back of the house.
We spent a year on the streets together, going from shelter to shelter, while I worked dead-end jobs under the table, until I stumbled into an old man in a leather cut, who took us under his wing and gave us a family. And then I lost everything.
Our bikes skid to a stop outside a crumbling neighborhood on the edge of Amberwood, flames lighting up the night sky from the house in front of us. Lucas and Lena are in there.
Fear doesn’t come.
Only anger.
I’m off my bike at the same time as Rogue, fear radiating from him, heartbreak, turmoil. I can’t protect him from the outcome of what’s waiting inside, but I can protect him from what he sees.
“Hold him back!” I yell as Sin, Rolo, and other members race toward the burning house. Out of my peripheral, I see Malice and Wrath grab Rogue by the arms, using all their strength to hold him back while he screams like a wild animal.
My boots are the first to hit the crumbling floor of the house, the stench of decay and burning flesh permeating the air, burning my nose and throat. I cough into my arm as I push forward.
“Ace! Lucas!” I yell for my brother. “Lena!”
Rolo stays by my side, our guns drawn, even though the outside has been deserted of the Iron Wolves. We quickly clear the front half of the bottom floor, moving toward the back of the house. Smoke fills our lungs, the smell getting worse the closer we get to the back.
We come face-to-face with a scene that will forever be embedded in my mind.
It will haunt me until the day I die. Rolo lurches to the side, bending at the waist and retching.
I drop to my knees, my stomach bile turning as I stare at the charred remains of my brother.
My blood. My other half in this world. They fucking took him from me.
He’s chained from the ceiling, his arms stretched out above him, his lifeless, naked body dangling, with his head lolling forward.
He’s missing both of his feet; blood dried to the floor below him in a pool of burnt crimson.
The scene is horrific, and I can barely comprehend what I’m staring at.
Shock takes over as my head trembles, shaking slightly from side to side.
My eyes dart over him, looking for anything that may tell me I’m wrong.
That this man isn’t Lucas. My mouth falls open in a silent scream, the taste of smoke and ash burning my tongue.