10. Myla
CHAPTER TEN
He’s fear-stricken, but I hold myself down on him, giving him a look that says he’s an idiot.
“Myla, we need a condom,” he repeats.
“Have you been tested since you were with someone last?” I ask, already knowing this man is the most responsible person I’ve ever met, so there’s not a doubt in my mind he’s healthy.
“Yes, but?—”
“There is no safer pussy than one who works at a brothel. We’re tested constantly, and I’ve never had sex without protection—not once. And I haven’t been with anyone since leaving the ranch.”
“That’s not the only reason for a condom.”
“I have an IUD, and my paranoid ass has an ultrasound once a year to make sure it’s where it’s supposed to be so it’s most effective.” I wouldn’t fight him if I didn’t need this experience with Judge to be unlike any sexual encounter I’ve ever had before. I want us to go beyond physical pleasure so I’ll have hope for a future with a real partner who accepts all of me—the dark thoughts and all. Even though it won’t be with Judge, I cling to the desperate belief that there is someone out there who can see past my flaws and love me for who I am. When I’m ready.
Judge eyes me warily, unconvinced this is a good idea. I bite down on my quivering lower lip before he can see the hurt. He doesn’t trust me, which is a fair assessment for someone who didn’t know me before. He has had a front-row view of my insanity the past few months, so I wouldn’t trust me either. I take his hesitation as an answer and slowly lift up.
“No.” He grips my hips again and pushes me back down, the fat mushroom head of his cock hitting me just right inside. Oh god, I’m so overly sensitive from the orgasms and all the foreplay that it really won’t take much for me to detonate again. “You’re blaming yourself for my hesitation, but that’s not why.”
“What is it then?”
“I’ve never fucked without a condom either, and with the way you feel, I need the barrier so I can last long enough to get you off.”
I hadn’t even considered that could be his reason, but now that I know, I’m beaming. Circling my hips, I ask, “I feel good?”
“So fuckin’ good,” he says through gritted teeth. Even though his eyes are half-lidded and his pupils are blown, he keeps them locked on me.
“Then you better start thinking about puppies or your grandma because you’re not allowed to come until I tell you to.” I jokingly flip the switch on him, but when his cock pulses at my words, I wonder if he likes being told what to do.
He gives me a resolved nod as I rock my hips back and forth, providing the friction I need. Leaning back, I rest my hands on his thighs, still covered by his jeans, and arch my back, thrusting my breasts out. Judge is obviously a breasts man and takes full advantage of the easy access.
My mind is blissfully blank as I zone out and do what my body tells me to do. I’ve never been able to do this before. Staying alert during sex wasn’t only necessary for my safety; it was part of the job. My client was paying for pleasure, and I had to pay close attention to their body language to make it good for them. This time with Judge, though. . . this is for me, and I lean into it.
Needing more, I sit upright and use his shoulders for purchase as I bounce up and down on his cock. It has just the right amount of forward curve to hit my G-spot with each downward motion, and my body comes alive as I get closer to bliss.
An erotic soundtrack of skin slapping, wet suction from where we’re joined, and our moans fill the air as I work us up higher and higher. I’m so close to detonating, so very close. Tingles spread through me, and I already know any orgasms I had before were child’s play compared to what’s building inside me now.
Judge’s hot breaths come in quick pants as his hands roam my body with an urgent hunger. Every inch of me is claimed by his touch, a fiery trail of want and need left in its wake. I’ve been the object of many people’s desire before, but never with such intensity that it feels like I’m the only one in existence for him. His passion is so all-consuming that it’s hard to remember this is just a favor, a transaction.
“Oh, god. Yes. Please don’t stop,” I breathe out when he tilts his hips and settles a hand between my legs, moving with me so he can press a thumb to my clit. It feels too good, and I won’t last much longer.
“Look how good you’re working me over, sweetheart. Your pussy’s dripping, your little clit is swollen, and the way you’re taking me so deep is so good. Fuuuuck,” he draws out.
His dirty words send me over the edge, and I free fall, my limbs becoming light as air, a haze moving over my vision, and all-consuming pleasure spreading through my body. My thighs quiver, and my body jerks as I keep driving him against the spot, wanting to hold onto this for as long as possible.
Nothing lasts forever, though, and eventually, my movements slow, and I come back to myself just as Judge’s orgasm hits. Using my body for his pleasure, his fingers dig into my hips as he encourages me to keep the rhythm he needs. Needing to make this just as good for him as it was for me, I internally squeeze around him.
“Fuck, Myla. Your body feels incredible, the best I’ve ever had,” he says through a shuddering breath. “Yes, just like that. Oh, god.”
His face contorts in ecstasy as he slams me down on his engorged cock, which feels impossibly larger inside of me now. With each thrust of his hips, he reaches a place deep within me that has never been touched before, sending small aftershocks rippling through my body. Suddenly, a gush of warmth floods me as his cock pulsates inside me, and I find the intensity of the sensation both erotic and intimate.
Judge takes my hand and places it over his heart. It doesn’t feel as strange as it did the first time, so I take his hand and place it over my own heart. For a long time, we stay joined, our heartbeats and breaths synced as they slow. I’m not in a hurry for this to be finished because once he pulls out, the moment will be over, and whatever we shared will be gone.
As my lust-fueled haze dissipates, the darkness creeps back in with a vengeance. I never truly believed he could rid me of it, but I had hoped for more of a reprieve. Instead, it devours me once again, clawing at my mind and heart. My throat constricts as tears prick at my eyes, threatening to spill over. The crushing weight of disappointment suffocates me, destroying any remnants of joy from the past hour. This is the reality of my existence—always trapped in this endless cycle of desire and despair.
“You okay?” Judge asks, skimming his hands up and down my thighs.
“Fine.” He sucks in a sharp breath as I pull off him in haste, and his half-hard cock slaps against the bottom of his shirt, a reminder of the barrier he put in place to protect himself from me. It was smart because I’ll only hurt him.
“Myla.” He reaches out to stop me, but I’m too fast as I dart off the bed. “Stay here with me. You can keep the demons out, I know you can. I saw it for myself.”
I stride over to my closet and pull out my fluffy robe, the one that’s two sizes too big, giving me a layer of protection. After tying the belt into a knot, I fold my arms and debate the best way to get him out of here. So much happened tonight that I need time to process it all.
“Making me lose my mind while I orgasm doesn’t make you special. Just ask the line of men who were there before you.” I almost choke on the words, knowing it’ll hit him where it counts, and I’m right.
Judge’s mouth opens to speak, but nothing comes out. Moving to the side of the bed, he faces away from me as he stands and tucks himself back in. “Oh good. We’re back to slinging insults.”
“I need you to leave, please.”
“Sure. Right after you tell me what happened tonight.”
“Losing your memory in your old age?” I’m being childish, but I can’t go there with him. Something in me changed when I drove the knife into that asshole; for better or worse, I’m not sure yet. I just know I can’t talk about it, and especially not with Judge. He called me angel multiple times tonight, but he’s the angelic one. He’s damn near perfect and doesn’t deserve to take on my secrets.
He purses his lips and nods, as if he expected this reaction from me. “I can’t make you tell me what happened tonight, but if you don’t, I’ll be forced to tell Rigger and your sister.”
I fist my hands, digging my nails into my palms. “Never grew out of your tattle-tale phase?”
“Don’t do that. This isn’t like all the other times when I was being overbearing.” He points to the bathroom. “There’s a bloody knife in your tub, but you don’t have a mark on you. That means there’s someone out there who’s either dead or will be soon, and since you have ties to the club, your fuck-up puts my brothers at risk.”
“I don’t have any ties to the club. I don’t have any ties to anyone.”
“The fuck you don’t. Your sister is the Sergeant-at-Arms’ ol’ lady, and the prospects and I have been in and out of this apartment for weeks. If you get busted, do you think your neighbors will even hesitate to tell the cops about the big scary bikers hanging around?” He keeps his tone in check, probably to keep said neighbors from overhearing, but there’s a biting edge to each word that doesn’t need volume to get his point across.
“I won’t get busted.”
“Oh, so you’re a professional now?”
My hands tremble as the adrenaline dump hits me like a brick, and bone-deep exhaustion, along with a flood of emotions I don’t have the capacity to decipher, overwhelm me. Judge threatening to tell the Sons only adds another layer I can’t process right now. A wave of nausea has my stomach in knots, and little worms swim over my vision. I’d noticed them earlier, but I’d been lightheaded after killing a man for the first time and thought it was a byproduct of that.
“Maybe I am, Judge. That’s the thing, you don’t know me.” A headache takes root on the right side of my forehead. Damn it, not now. These migraines are driving me crazy. It’s been weeks since my concussion, and the headaches still haven’t gone away. I apply pressure to my temples. “Just go away. Tell whoever you want. I don’t give a fuck.”
His voice softens. “Headache?”
“None of your goddamn business. Can you please just leave?”
“I’ll leave, but you have to know I’m going right to Cy and Rigger,” he threatens again.
It won’t matter if I tell him or if I don’t. Either way, he’ll go right to the club. The most I can hope for is that the club will wash their hands of me, leaving me in peace to finish what I set out to do. Killing one of those men didn’t make a difference, but killing all of them will go a long way in fighting my demons. Unfortunately, that’s not what will happen because Judge is right. My twin being directly linked to a ranking member makes me the club’s business, and they would lock me up before they allowed me to be reckless.
Fuck. This headache is making it hard to think, and I need to come up with something that’ll stop Judge from going to the Sons with what he saw tonight. I just need a little more time. An idea forms, and I cross my fingers that Judge doesn’t hate me after minimizing what we shared tonight.
“I’ll tell them myself,” I say and watch his brow lift. “I just need some time. Six months at the most, and then I’ll admit to everything.”
“Admit to what? And why do you need more time?”
“Can’t you just trust me?”
The look he gives me makes me feel small. “No. You haven’t done anything to earn my trust.”
“Ouch.” Considering his cum has started dripping down my thighs, I thought I’d earned at least a modicum of trust.
He sits on the edge of the bed and drags a hand over his mustache and beard. “Okay, here’s the deal. You tell me what you’re up to, and I’ll keep your secret for six months, but not a day longer. And if I feel like you’re in over your head, I reserve the right to pull out of this deal.”
I scoff. “What’s your gauge of me being over my head?”
“If I see a direct threat to you or the club.”
I chew on a nail as I think. I’ve been careful. There are no “how to commit a murder” Google searches on my computer, I wear gloves and keep my hair covered, I don’t leave anything behind, and there’s nothing to tie the club or me to my victims because none of them would’ve admitted to anyone that they got rejected from a brothel. It’s the perfect crime.
“Fine. I’ll tell you,” I say, not seeing another option.
“I’m listening.” He rests his elbows on his knees as he stares at me with a look that is both familiar and foreign. This is not the composed, put-together man I have come to know. He’s a disheveled mess, with sex-mussed hair and a beard coated in my cum. His wrinkled shirt only adds to the image of a man completely undone. I get the sudden urge to find out more about this man, even if it shatters my perception of him.
“Not tonight,” I say, slipping inside the bathroom. This migraine is intensifying by the minute, and I’m too exhausted to deal with the knife, which means no shower. Instead, I wet a washcloth and clean between my legs.
“Then when?” he asks the second I step back into the room.
“Tomorrow.” I rub the back of my neck where the sharp pain stems from.
He expels a frustrated breath. “Get in bed.”
“I was going to.” I drop the robe and climb between the sheets.
“I’ll go get you some water. Have you eaten anything tonight?”
“Yes, Dad,” I sass.
He leaves the room with a scowl, and when he returns minutes later with a bottle of water and a box of crackers, the irritated expression is still there. Sitting on the edge of the bed, so close he’s touching me, he hands me the bottle of water with the lid already unscrewed, sets the crackers down, and then shakes a pain pill into his palm. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Even the dim light from the lamp on my nightstand has me squinting as I sit up to swallow the medicine, not bothering to keep the sheets over my breasts.
Because Judge is Judge, he keeps his eyes above my neck as he takes the water bottle back and circles the room to flip off all the lights. I lie back down, expecting him to leave, but instead, he gets into bed beside me, though he remains on top of the bedding. I’m about to argue when he turns me away and drags my body against his. A heavy arm rests across my middle as he spoons me, and I’m too stunned and too wiped out to argue.
I’ve never slept with a man, not in the literal sense, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ever think about it. During the day, I can keep myself busy and distract myself, but the second I get in bed and am alone with my thoughts, I might sometimes wonder what it would be like to have someone.
My world was shattered when that pack of sadistic men stripped me of my dignity and destroyed all my hopes and dreams. Now, instead of envisioning ever finding love, I’m consumed by the burning desire to paint the town red with the blood of men who underestimate the strength and resilience of women. They’re in for such an awful surprise.
“I can practically hear your wheels turning.” The arm that’s caging me in bends at the elbow and Judge weaves his fingers into my hair, rubbing my scalp. I only allow it because I don’t have the will to fight with him tonight. And because it feels fucking incredible. “Get some sleep, Myla. Things’ll look different in the morning.”
Knowing I can’t sleep without it, I reach under my pillow and pull out a shredded up piece of fabric that used to be my baby blanket. I know it’s disgusting and weird or whatever, but I don’t think I can make Judge’s opinion of me any worse, so I bury my nose into it and inhale my personal scent of comfort before tucking it under my chin and closing my eyes.
“Is that a woobie?” Judge’s head lifts off the pillow we’re sharing, amusement in his tone. I ignore him. “You sleep with a security blanket?”
I say nothing and fall asleep to Judge’s deep chuckle, wondering why I don’t hate having him here.