Chapter 11
BOLT
I’m downing my second shot when Smoke walks into the main bar with Nicoletta. He nods to Blood; the two of them exchange a look, then head to our table in the back.
“Looks like you’re going to be stuck with me for a little while longer.” She tries to sell it with a smile, but I don’t react. Instead, I push off the bar and angle her toward the back.
We silently climb up the flight of stairs. I nudge her down the hallway, and by the time we enter my apartment, the air crackles like a live electric current wiggling and jolting between us. The kind you can’t capture, and you sure the fuck can’t touch for fear of getting singed.
I slam the door behind us, and when she tries to move around me, I crowd her, wrap my arm around her waist and haul her to me.
She peeks up at me through those long lashes of hers, but I don’t melt—not yet.
“You know, if you were a guy, right now, you’d be tied to a chair sweating and bleeding in our padded room in the basement.”
Her eyes widen, and her back stiffens, which only makes my dick harder.
Yeah, I’m a sick bastard. ‘Cause as much as I hate her, I still wanna fuck her.
“You saved me twice tonight.”
I grab her chin between my thumb and forefinger and jerk her head up until we’re eye to eye. I want her to see my rage.
“You planted a fuckin’ murder weapon on me. It could’ve gotten me locked up again, only this time for life.”
“I never would’ve let that happen.”
“You know, I should hate you.”
“But you don’t.”
My hand slides down to the delicate, fragile skin of her neck. I tighten my grasp, and her pulse quickens under my fingertips. She swallows hard, and I feel that too.
I push her backwards, still fisting her neck. When her legs hit the couch, I glare down at her, taking her in from head to toe.
NICOLETTA
The absolute hate in his eyes fuels my lust, makes my legs weak, and that scares the shit out of me. Is it sick to enjoy the fury etched onto his face, or the harshness of his breath? To love the feel of his hand circling my neck? Tight enough to leave a mark, but not enough to cut off my air.
Knowing with one swipe of his hand, he could knock me out, one flick of his wrist, he could end my life—or give me the best orgasm ever.
He jams his rough, callused hand into my halter top and tweaks one nipple, then the other.
He unties the material around my neck, and the loose fabric falls free, along with my breasts.
He kneads them, then lifts one to his mouth.
Sucking my nipples to hard peaks, he makes the delicate flesh tingle under his touch.
He eyes me again, then growls, “Sexy as fuck.”
I reach up to him, but he pins my arms at my side.
“You know, I’m gonna have to punish you.”
“Yes,” I murmur, my knees weakening in anticipation.
He spins me around, twists his hand in my hair, yanks my head to the side and bites the back of my neck. I undulate, pressing my ass against his jeans, feeling his cock pressing into my ass still covered in the leather skirt.
He tightens his fist in my hair. “Bend over.” His voice is harsh and rough.
I brace my hands against the back of the couch, and a second later, he rips the skirt off my hips and down my legs. The cool air from the air conditioner kisses my skin, then makes me shiver.
He grabs two big fistfuls of my ass and squeezes until I yelp.
“Fuckin’ perfect.” He leans into my ear. “But you’ve been a bad girl, so . . .”
I look over my shoulder at his smirking face.
“You’re gonna have to be punished.”
“But you saved me before.” I play along. “So why do you want to make me suffer now?”
“‘Cause you gotta learn not to mess with the Royal Bastards’ enforcer.” He slaps my ass cheek, then rubs his palm over the stinging skin.
“Ohhhh,” I moan.
He palms the other cheek, then slaps that one just as hard.
I yelp again, and he laughs. “Yeah, you’ve been a real bad girl.”
He leans in and sucks the sensitive flesh, then bites down. I squirm, but he grips my hips tighter, holding me in place, holding me just where he wants me.
“I left my mark on you, just to let you know I ain’t fuckin’ around.”
I wiggle my hips back and forth, rubbing my ass over the roughness of his jeans, feeling his length.
“You’re so hard and big,” I moan.
“Maybe if you tell me how good you’re gonna be, I’ll let you have my cock.” He leans into my ear again. “But you gotta really want it.”
“I really want it, baby, so bad,” I murmur.
“Tell me how bad?” he challenges.
“I want your big, thick cock to spread me wide and split me open. I want to feel your balls slapping against my ass as you fuck me.”
“Ahhh, fuck!”
I hear the rasp of his zipper, then his fingers spread my pussy lips.
I look over my shoulder just in time to see him coating his cock with my cream.
Then he notches himself between my cheeks and teases my clit with the tip.
Just close enough to make me ache for him. Just close enough to make me beg.
“Do it now,” I plead.
He fists a clump of my hair and angles my head to face him. “You fuckin’ telling me what to do?”
I press back against him. “I need you in me,” I moan.
“Too fuckin’ bad, ‘cause I’m in the mood to make you wait. Make you suffer, till you’re aching so bad you’ll do anything for my cock.”
A low groan erupts from the back of my throat, and he laughs.
“That’s right, moan for me.” He rolls his hips, intentionally coming close then pulling back. I spread my legs, trying to get him in me, but he controls every move we make.
“I’m in charge now, and I like driving you crazy.” He leans into my ear again. “‘Cause you love it too.”
“Yes, yes, I love it, but I need more.”
He slaps my ass again, I moan, and he thrusts his hips forward, suddenly sinking into me deep, so deep.
I sigh in relief, and he pulls my hair harder. “You like getting fucked by a dirty biker, huh?”
“You know I do.”
“Just like that first night. Spreading your legs for me like a bitch in heat.” He growls in my ear. “Your pussy swallowed my cock whole, and you loved every thick inch of it, huh?”
“Yes, I need it. More, more.” His dirty, raspy words are taking me to a place I’ve never been before.
“You couldn’t get enough of me that night. I think you would’ve let me fuck you in front of every outlaw in that bar, ‘cause you were hungry for my cock, right?”
“I needed it so bad.”
“And I gave it to you, every filthy inch. Just the way you like it. Then I filled you with my cream.”
His hips piston into me faster, harder. My hip bones hit the couch at a dizzying speed.
My center coils, and he doesn’t stop. He’s hitting a spot I didn’t even know existed. Over and over again. I bear down, squeeze him hard, and then it happens. I squirt all over him. Drenching him.
“Goddamn,” Bolt shouts. “Fuckin’ squirt me, babe.” Then he howls like a wolf in the wild.
He kicks my legs farther apart, then braces his palms on the back of the couch, drilling me relentlessly. He keeps going until my body explodes again. I just experienced what I always thought was a myth. Something made-up to drive women crazy—until now.
I collapse over the couch. Mindless, exposed, with complete abandon. Still leaking, spent, with not one brain cell functioning.
His hips slow to a rhythmic motion, then still. I lean up, but he pushes me down against the couch. When he pulls out, an emptiness engulfs me.
I hear him zip up, then his heavy boots thud against the wood floor. I lean up on my elbows, slowly straighten my spine, and when I turn from the couch, he’s gone.
BOLT
I let my long legs carry me out of the living room, then I slam into my bedroom before I have a chance to second-guess myself, look at her face, or spit out words that will make her think I’ve forgiven her.
What just happened was me taking my fill, getting what I wanted from a bitch who double-crossed me, and showing her she was nothing more than a hot hole for me to dump my load. She lied, set me up, used me—doing all the shit plenty of other women pulled on me over the years—but no more.
I took what I wanted, what I needed, and now it’s over. We’d get the job done at the country club, call her father out, and then she could do whatever the fuck she wanted. Stay in Tijuana, go back to the States—I don’t give a fuck.
I lay my cut over the chair, then look down at my wet jeans. I got her to fuckin’ squirt. I always thought that was some made-up bullshit, but I got proof it ain’t—all over me. She not only got off, she soaked me with her juices.
I rip off the rest of my clothes, letting them fall where they land. My eyes travel across the room to the bottom drawer of my dresser. Fuckin’ unbelievable, but I should’ve searched the apartment like Smoke said. Again, I was sucked in by pussy. Sucked in by another woman who used me.
I should shower, but I can’t chance seeing her again tonight. I’m too fuckin’ weak, and if I look into those soulful eyes of hers, I’m a goner.
I drag on a pair of sweatpants and flop down on the bed. Falling asleep easily and I never mix well. Even though it’s almost four in the morning, I’m wired like I just sucked up five lines of coke.
My brain does a slow-motion replay of the night from the time Diesel showed me the knife, stopping at the scared-as-shit look in Nicoletta’s eyes when she had a gun pressed to her head. I can still hear my heart pounding at just the thought of that asshole pulling the trigger.
Now to top off an already fucked-up night, I have her scent all over me while I lay straining to hear every move she makes in the next room. Hell yeah, it’s gonna be a long damn night.
NICOLETTA
I retrieve my clothes from the floor and drag myself to the couch, but I don’t sit. Even though I’m exhausted, I can’t do anything until I shower, since I drenched myself and Bolt with whatever the hell just happened.
I root around in my bag, come up with my toiletries and head for the bathroom. Thankfully, the light under Bolt’s room is off, and I can only guess he’s already asleep. The man managed once again to bring me to a place I’ve never experienced and holy shit, but I couldn’t wait to return.
I didn’t even care if he never talked to me again as long as he did whatever that was over and over.