Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Christ, the little brat just swallowed every drop like it was holy water, then looked me in the eyes while licking her lips.
Dangerous.
Fucking dangerous.
I haul her up, taste myself on her tongue when I kiss her, and it’s filth and fire all at once. She grins at me like she knows exactly what she just did, like she flipped the leash and now I’m the one panting.
Not a chance.
I spin her fast, bend her over the boxes stacked against the wall, skirt hiked, panties already sliding down her thighs. She gasps, but it’s not fear. It’s heat. Need. My name tangled in her breathless little curse.
“Keep you around?” I rasp against her ear, grinding my cock against her soaked slit. “Baby, I’m about to fuck you so full you won’t remember anyone else’s name.”
She shivers, pushes back against me like she’s begging, but her mouth still runs.
“Big words, boyfriend. Hope you can back ‘em up.”
That sass. Fuck me, it’s gasoline on open flame.
I push in, just the head, her slick heat gripping me like velvet claws. She moans, trying to rock back, but I grip her hip hard enough to leave marks.
“Nuh-uh, Storm. You don’t get it easy.” I thrust an inch deeper, pull out, press back in, drawing out her whimpers. “You wanna come? You’re gonna beg me like the spoiled little brat you are.”
She hisses through her teeth, snapping her head back to glare at me over her shoulder. Dark eyes flashing.
“Fuck you.”
I grin, all teeth. “Exactly the plan, baby.”
I slam in, burying myself to the hilt in one brutal stroke. Her cry bounces off the walls, sharp and broken, and my vision damn near whites out at how tight she is.
“Jesus—” My grip on her waist tightens as I start pounding into her, boxes rattling with every thrust. The sound of her wet pussy swallowing me is obscene, her nails clawing at the cardboard for balance.
She moans, curses, pants my name, and every sound makes me hungrier.
“Rook, fuck. I—”
I slap her ass, the crack echoing, and she jerks, clenching around me. “Yeah, say it louder, Storm. Let ‘em all hear how good I make you scream.”
Her sass melts into begging when I angle my hips, hitting that sweet spot inside her again and again. Her back arches, her cries go high and needy.
“Please—please, I need—”
I grab a fistful of her hair, yank her back against me so her spine curves against my chest. My other hand slides down, finding her clit, circling it hard and slow while I fuck into her deep.
“You need what?” I growl into her ear. “Say it.”
“I need to come!” She sobs, grinding down against my cock like she’s losing her mind. “Rook, please, let me—”
Fuck. That begging. It’s like lightning in my veins.
I edge her, pull back from her clit right when she’s about to snap. She screams in frustration, writhing, trying to chase it.
“Not yet, Storm. You don’t run this show.” I thrust harder, faster, her slick clenching me so tight I see stars. “You’ll come when I say. Not a second before.”
Her voice cracks, raw. “You bastard. Please, I’ll do anything—”
“Yeah?” I bite her shoulder, rutting into her with everything I’ve got, my cock’s twitching at how close I am myself. “Anything?”
“Yes!” She sobs the word like a confession, like surrender. “Anything, just let me come!”
That’s it. That’s the crack I wanted. The brat going soft, breaking into a begging mess.
“Good girl,” I rasp, slamming my fingers against her clit in rhythm with my thrusts. “Come for me, Storm. Fucking come.”
She shatters in my arms, screaming, body seizing around me as her orgasm rips through her. The way she clamps down on my cock drags me right over the edge, and I bury myself deep, groaning her name as I spill inside her, filling her up.
Her whole body trembles, sweat-slick and ruined, head falling back on my shoulder. I hold her there, still inside her, panting against her neck.
“Goddamn,” I mutter, pressing my lips to her ear. “No wonder you’re trouble. You give back just as hard as you take.”
She laughs breathlessly, even while wrecked. “Told you… deluxe package.”
I chuckle, nipping her jaw before pulling out slowly, watching my cum drip down her thighs. Possession burns through me hot and mean.
I tuck myself back in, smack her ass again just because I can, and whisper against her ear. “For the record, Storm? Two hours ain’t nearly enough.”
Her legs are jelly as I haul her off the boxes, and fuck if I don’t grin like a bastard about it.
Her lipstick’s smeared, hair a wreck, skin glowing like I lit her from the inside out.
She buttons her coat with shaky fingers, muttering curses under her breath, but when she looks up at me she’s smirking—cocky little brat.
I lace my fingers with hers anyway, tugging her toward the back door. The storeroom smells like sex and sweat, boxes tilted like they just witnessed a war. She stumbles once in her heels, and I steady her by the elbow, laughing low.
“What?” she snaps, sass back online even if her thighs are still trembling.
“Nothing.” I squeeze her hip. “Just thinkin’ how sweet you sound when you beg.”
Her eyes flash, cheeks hot. “Don’t get cocky.”
“Baby, cocky’s the only way I come.”
She swats at me, but her laugh betrays her. By the time we hit the cold night air outside Blacktrope, her cheeks are still flushed, breath still uneven. I walk her across the lot, boots crunching on gravel, until we reach the tiny red Fiat parked near the edge.
I stop, cross my arms, and give the thing a once-over.
“Don’t start,” she says, rolling her eyes. “It’s practical.”
“Practical?” I bark out a laugh. “Storm, a gust of wind could roll this tin can into the river.”
She smirks, biting her lip like she’s daring me to push more. “You mocking me or my car, biker boy?”
“Both.” I lean down, close enough to see her pupils widen. “But mostly your car. Kinda cute, though. Like you.”
Her sass flickers into something softer, quick as a blink. Then she tilts her chin, back to brat mode. “Julie,” she says suddenly.
I pause. “What?”
“My name. Julie.” She stares at me, defiant like she’s handing me a loaded gun.
Julie. Doesn’t fit in my mouth like Storm does. Storm’s sharper, wild, the kind of name you yell when you’re fucking someone against a wall. But Julie? That’s hers too, the piece she just let me keep.
I roll it on my tongue, voice low. “Julie.”
She nods once, smug but a little breathless. Then she slides into her Fiat, tosses me one last smirk, and drives off with her taillights winking like red devil eyes.
I stand there a minute, hands on my hips, shaking my head. Christ.
By the time I head back into BB, the music’s shifted again, louder, rowdier, the kind of beat that rides under fists. My brothers are waiting; hell, they’re grinning like wolves who smelled blood.
Colt’s the first to whistle low. “Thought you’d be limping back, Rook.”
“Man’s still standin’,” Tornado adds, snickering. “Barely.”
Shard elbows me as I pass. “So, was she worth the sass, or you just in it for the perfume sniff?”
I flip him off, drop onto my stool, and grab the beer Frost already set out for me. He doesn’t even pretend not to smirk.
“You missed your fanboy,” Frost says, polishing another glass.
I lift a brow. “White shirt?”
“Yeah.” Frost nods. “Soon as she started moaning, he bolted like his ass was on fire.”
Colt chuckles dark. “Guess he didn’t like the soundtrack.”
I freeze mid-sip, narrow my eyes. “Hold up. How the fuck did you hear her?”
Colt grins, toothpick bouncing. “Man, the whole bar heard her.”
My jaw ticks, and I glance at Frost, who’s suddenly real interested in drying that fucking glass. “Don’t look at me like that,” he says. “I turned the music down. Just in case.”
“You— What the fuck, Frost?” I slam my beer down.
He shrugs, unbothered. “Better than bullets flying if she’d screamed for the wrong reason. Safety first.”
The table bursts out laughing. Tornado nearly chokes on his drink, Shard’s grinning ear to ear, and Colt damn near falls off his stool.
I drag a hand down my face, fighting the smirk threatening to give me away. “You assholes.”
I down the rest of the beer in one pull, the bitter foam cutting through the leftover taste of her. She sucked me dry, left me strung out and twitching, and I still want more.
The stool next to me creaks, and North slides into it. Doesn’t look at me, just nurses his own glass. Silence wraps around him like armor, like it always does.
Then—fuck me—he chuckles. Actually chuckles. Low, quiet, but there.
He pats my shoulder once, heavy and solid, then goes back to drinking like it never happened.
I blink, then laugh under my breath. If the Prez is amused, I must’ve put on a hell of a show.