Chapter 37 Slade
Slade
Who knew you could pass out from an orgasm?
But sign me up for that again. Holy. Shit.
I wake up with a grin on my face. A grin.
I don’t remember the last time I felt this…light.
But things come crashing back quickly, and I inhale sharply, trying to calm the surge of everything.
A knuckle drags down my cheek, and I turn my head. Bane lies beside me, propped up on one elbow. His hair is a dark, tousled mess, his hazel eyes bright as he studies me.
“How are you feeling?”
God, I could live with the recording of his deep voice on repeat.
That thought, though, brings thoughts of another recording, specifically a voicemail recording. My friends.
Shit. I haven’t reached out to them again; I’ve been too wrapped up in starting to feel again and playing…whatever this is with Bane.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as his brow pinches in concern.
“What? You’re a mind reader now, too,” I snark.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Among other things when it comes to you.”
I push up to rest on my elbows to assess my current state. I’m still wearing my long-sleeved shirt, and while I’m covered from the waist down with the sheet, I can also feel that my bottom half is still clothed.
He brushes my hair off my forehead. “Your scars are nothing to be ashamed of, Slade.” I chance looking at him and see no pity or disgust. “When you’re ready to show me, I’m here.”
I rake my teeth over my lip. “Did… Did I ask you…” My cheeks heat as I remember that I begged him to eat me out when he was driving me to the edge of madness by denying my orgasm.
“To eat your perfect, dripping cunt?”
The heat in my cheeks grows, but said body part is perking up and saying, ‘Um, yes please’.
“Which I will gladly do. But for the first time, I won’t when you’re out of your mind with need.”
Because in order for him to ‘eat my perfect, dripping cunt,’ I’d have to remove my pants and let him see my scars.
“I’ll only see your scars when you’re ready to show them to me. That’s my promise to you.”
Gratitude and something else swells deep within me that he’s not pushing me.
“Now it’s your turn to uphold your end of the bargain.”
I shake my head. “I said maybe I’d tell you if you made me come.”
“Slade,” he growls in warning, and I’m not going to lie, it’s hot as hell. “Who taught you how to fight?”
I study the simple gold band I’m still wearing.
He, of course, doesn’t miss that and lifts my hand. “If you’re not married, then why are you still wearing this?”
The possessive anger in his voice is sharp.
I consider what to tell him before finally answering. “The answer to both your questions is intertwined.” I chew on my lip, worrying that I’m making a mistake.
“You can trust me, Slade. If I can, I won’t even tell Ash.”
I’m not bothered by his words because I know how this works: the MC’s safety comes first, because it’s more than just one person who needs to be protected.
“You most definitely should share this with Ash,” I admit. “Actually, the whole Council should know.”
Bane tenses even though his face remains calm.
Taking a deep breath, I dive in. “When I ran away from my mom and her drug dealer, I hid in places he and his gang wouldn’t frequent, such as the Houston Public Library and the Museum of Fine Arts.
At both locations, I ran into four students who went to a private school; they were rich and connected.
Once they found out what I was running from, they helped me. ”
I look at Bane while he waits for me to continue.
“Besides being rich and connected, my friends…ah, dabbled in criminal things,” I explain.
He hikes his brow but remains silent. “Sam is a skilled hacker, and he registered me at their private school, stole from a crooked businessman to pay my tuition and boarding, and I went to school with Sam, Axel, Camber, and Granger.”
To a regular civilian, this is the part where there’d be judgment and pearl-clutching, but Bane doesn’t bat an eye.
“Sam made me a solid background cover: I was from old money from a secluded part of England, coming to America for school. They introduced me to their families; took me home with them during the holidays. Their parents had someone train them all in self-defense and using a gun, and I was included in that.”
“Why were they trained?”
“Both families are wealthy, but the main reason is because of who their dads are.” Taking a deep breath, I admit, “Granger and Camber’s dad is Andrew Glass.”
Bane jerks in shock.
“I take it you know who that is.”
He nods.
I bite my lip, then admit the next bombshell, “Axel and Sam’s dad is Gideon Rourke, cybersecurity division chief for the NSA.”
Bane nearly chokes. “And his son is a hacker?”
“It, uh…it gets worse. Or better, depending on how you look at it.” He waits until I finally continue, “The five of us operated quite a successful car heisting operation.”
This time, Bane does choke, with his eyes wide in shock. “You’re telling me, the FBI director and the NSA’s cybersecurity division chief’s children are a bunch of little criminals?”
“Says the VP of a criminal motorcycle club.”
He laughs deeply and cups my face. “Oh, baby, you never cease to surprise me.” He shakes his head, then sobers. “So, why the fake wedding ring? And why not go to Andrew Glass? The FBI has been looking for the suspected mystery person who had been chained…”
He trails off with an apologetic look, and I turn my face into his palm and kiss it, telling him I’m okay.
“A variety of reasons, the first of which is my healthy dose of mistrust of law enforcement. But Granger and Camber were also skeptical about how the FBI would handle it and what would happen to me. Plus, I couldn’t exactly speak about anything that had happened.
” Not until you helped me. It’s difficult even right now, and I’m only able to do so because Bane grounds me and gives me the strength.
“And the wedding ring?” he prods.
“You’re awfully fixated on that,” I tease, liking being able to exist in this version of myself.
“I’m fixated on that small piece of metal because I thought you belonged to another, Slade.” He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls my mouth to his, kissing me deeply before pulling away—and I fight the urge to climb into his lap. God, what this man has awakened in me.
His hand takes mine, and he plays with the simple gold wedding band.
“When I came back here to see my brothers, I figured if they thought I was married, they’d be less likely to object when I didn’t stay.
Also, if the Vanderalls did happen to find out it was me who had killed Antwane, Granger was convinced that if he was married to me, as a last resort, that would force his dad’s hand to protect me.
Sam has all the documents forged and ready to go if it came to that. ”
“Your friends had your back.”
“Have my back,” I correct.
His eyes, dark now like the color of whiskey, lift to mine, and he slides the ring off my finger. “I have your back now. Me, Ash, your brothers, and the rest of the Havoc Guardians all have your back, baby.” He closes his hand, swallowing the ring in his fist. “And I’m your defender. Me.”
A fierce possessiveness threads through his words, and it shouldn’t send of zing of thrill through me, but it does.
Then reality comes crashing back, and I shake my head. “I can’t stay, Bane.”
“The authorities haven’t been able to match the DNA evidence to you because you’re not in any system. If the Vanderalls are looking—”
“They are looking for me. Axel and Sam went with their parents to a party the Vanderalls were hosting. Sam, being the ballsy little shit he is, planted some bugs in their house—that’s how we know the Vanderalls are looking for me and they aren’t as forgiving in public as they make themselves appear. ”
“Who the hell are these kids?” he mutters, but I ignore that and press on.
“The Vanderalls want me to pay for the disgrace I brought to their name. They vowed to stop at nothing to find the one responsible and destroy them…including anyone I am associated with.”
He pulls away from me and swings his legs over the bed. His broad back is rigid with tension, and he rises and paces my small room.
“You don’t want the Vanderalls’ eyes on the Havoc Guardians, Bane.”
I get out of bed and brace a hand on his chest, stopping him, and he stares down at me.
That dark determination still swirls in his eyes and his jaw ticks.
“You don’t want the NSA and FBI turning their sights on you, either.
Not to mention the DOD because of the Vanderalls’ connection there.
You have to see that it’s insane to keep me here. ”
“What’s insane is letting you waltz out the fucking door without anyone having your back. And that you’d think I’d ever allow that.”
Anger stirs deep within me and pushes forth. “You’re not in control of me. And you’re not responsible for me, either.”
“The fuck I’m not,” he snarls.
Confusion mixes with my anger, but I go with anger. “Just because you give me a few orgasms doesn’t mean you own me, Bane.”
“Oh, baby.” He crowds me with his large body and walks me back toward the wall, placing his hand at my throat. My heart hammers with anger—and also now with lust, which I try to shake off. “You’re mine. So yes, I am in control of you. Yes, I am responsible for you. And yes, I will own you.”
“Fuck you.” It comes out sounding less angry than it should.
He lowers his head, bringing his mouth to my neck, and bites. Hard.
“I intend to.” He looks at me with a depth of darkness I have yet to see in him. “But for now, I need to go.”
I almost ask in panic, ‘Where?’ but stop myself. “Go,” I say flatly and jerk my chin at the door.
His hand tightens around my throat. With his size and strength, he could snap my neck easily, but I feel no fear when it comes to Bane.
“Don’t,” he warns, and I know what he means.
Don’t numb myself; stay feeling as long as I can without spiraling into chaos. It gets easier each time.
Then he leans down and kisses me, keeping me pinned to the wall with his hand at my throat. I feel the bulge in his jeans, and I want to grind against him.
So far, it’s been all about my pleasure, but right now, I want to fall to my knees, open my mouth, and say, ‘Please, daddy, let me suck your cock.’ The thought brings a rush of heat and wetness to my pussy, and I bite back a needy moan.
His tongue pushes into my mouth like an invader conquering new lands, and I fold. I crumble. And I fist his shirt to pull him closer.
Just as I’m about to whimper and beg him to do something other than just kiss me with that wicked mouth, he pulls away. “Be my good girl and shower. Then we’ll have breakfast.”
My core damn near combusts when he says good girl.
What the hell is happening to me?
I nod, not able to form any words.
He backs away from me, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to reach for him and beg him to stay.
He shoves his feet into his boots, then grabs his weapons and his cut from the chair. When he gets to the door, he pins me in place with a look and orders, “No making yourself come. That pussy and every orgasm it has belongs to me.”
Sweet baby Jesus.
Then, with a smirk, he leaves.
Only then do I realize he took my fake wedding band with him.