6. Ash
6
ASH
I thrust hard into Tessa.
She whimpers arching her back, her face pressed against the wall.
My hand fists in Tessa's long dark hair as I pound into her from behind, her gasps and moans echoing off the bare walls of my room above the clubhouse. The familiar scent of her perfume mixed with sex fills my nose, both intoxicating and bitter.
"Ash," she whimpers, pushing back against me, eagerly meeting each rough thrust. "Fuck, I've missed this so much..."
I pound into her harder, harder than I should. Making her moan louder with each thrust, trying to drown out the treacherous thoughts in my head. Maybe if I bury myself deep enough in her, everything else will go away.
"Yeah?" I grunt out between clenched teeth as I drive my cock into her slick heat.
Tessa bites down on her lower lip, her nails clinging to the brick wall as she tries to keep herself from collapsing under my relentless onslaught.
I grunt in response, too lost in chasing my own release to indulge her pillow talk. She always did love to run her mouth, even in the middle of a good fuck. My other hand grips her hip hard enough to leave bruises as I pick up the pace, slamming into her with single-minded intensity.
Tessa's moans turn into whimpers, but she doesn't ask me to stop. Instead, she begs for more, her hips bucking back against mine, urging me to go harder, faster.
It's good - it's always good with Tessa. She knows how to move and how to clench around my cock in that maddening way that makes my vision go white at the edges. But as much as my body responds to her, craving her heat and tightness, my mind is miles away.
"Ash! God, I'm going to—" Tessa pants out, her voice high-pitched and desperate.
A part of me should feel some sort of pride, or at least satisfaction, at bringing her to the edge so quickly, but all I feel is an empty coldness creeping through my veins. I keep fucking her hard against the wall.
With a final thrust, she stiffens and screams out in ecstasy, her warmth enveloping me as she clenches around my cock in powerful contractions.
But I don’t come.
I pull out of her abruptly, leaving her trembling and gasping against the wall. She turns to face me, her green eyes glassy and unfocused from her orgasm, a confused frown marring her pretty face.
"Ash? What's wrong? Why did you stop?"
I don't answer, just grab a towel and wipe myself off before pulling my jeans back on. The cold emptiness inside me has turned into a dull, throbbing ache, mixing with the ever-present anger that simmers just beneath my skin these days.
"Ash, talk to me," Tessa pleads, her voice small and uncertain as she reaches for me.
I step out of her grasp, not wanting her touch or her concern. "There's nothing to talk about, Tessa. We fucked. It was good. End of story."
Hurt flashes across her face before it hardens into something colder. She grabs her clothes off the floor and starts yanking them on, her movements sharp and jerky.
"Right. Of course. How could I forget? Ash of the Dead Demons doesn't do feelings. He just uses people and then tosses them aside.”
I stare at Tessa, feeling a flicker of guilt before I quickly push it down. "I never promised you anything more than this, Tessa. You knew what you were getting into."
She laughs bitterly as she zips up her jeans. "Yeah, I guess I did. And you know what, Ash, it’s fine.”
She sighs, smoothing her hair back behind her ears, and repeats, “If that’s what you want, it’s fine.”
“Good.”
I can tell she’s trying to pick a fight with me. The desire to stir the pot is making the corner of her lips twitch anxiously, but she can’t. She needs a roof and bed, she knows she’s treading on thin ice here.
“You look tired.” Her voice is silk-wrapped around steel.
“Thanks…”
She straightens out her clothes and shoots me one last bitter smile before heading for the door. "Thanks for the fuck, Ash. I'll be sure to return the favor someday."
The door slams behind her, leaving me alone in my room, which suddenly feels too quiet. Letting her stay here was an absolute mistake. But it was too late now.
My phone buzzes on the table.
I glance down, seeing Ryder’s name flash across the screen.
“Yeah?” I answer sharply.
“We’ve got a problem,” Ryder says, his voice tight and serious.
“What kind of problem?”
“She was there, Ash. At the warehouse.”
I sit up straighter, the whiskey forgotten. “Who?”
“Laina.”
The name hits me like a sucker punch to the ribs. I grit my teeth as my grip tightens around the phone.
“What the hell was she doing there?”
“She fed us some cock and bull story about rumors and comments online, but she’s lying through her teeth.”
“Of course she’s lying,” I snap, standing up from the table and grabbing my leather jacket from the back of the chair. “Where is she now?”
“We followed her back to her place. She’s home. The lights are on. No movement.”
Dagger’s voice comes through faintly in the background. “She’s scared, Ash. You can see it all over her. Whatever she found—or thinks she found—it’s got her rattled.”
"Come back to the club. Now.”
The main room of the clubhouse buzzes with low conversation and the faint hum of rock music crackling through aging speakers. Smoke curls through the air, mingling with the scent of leather, whiskey, and the faint metallic tang of gun oil.
Liam leans against the bar, a beer bottle dangling between two fingers as he surveys the room with sharp green eyes. He’s all charm and casual ease on the surface but laser-focused underneath.
Across the room, Ryder and Dagger occupy a corner table, their faces shadowed in the dim light. They’re waiting for me, their body language tense and tight, coiled like springs.
I cut across the room, my boots heavy on the wooden floor. Liam straightens as I pass him, his brow raising in a silent question.
“Meeting now,” I mutter as I walk by.
Liam tosses back the rest of his beer and sets the bottle down with a sharp clink . “This ought to be good.”
When I reach the corner table, Ryder is spinning his knife between his fingers, the blade flashing in the low light, while Dagger is sitting still with his arms crossed over his chest, his drink untouched in front of him.
“You made it back fast,” I say, pulling out a chair and lowering myself into it. Liam joins us, pulling up another chair and kicking back to balance on the hind legs.
“We didn’t waste time,” Ryder says, slipping the knife into his pocket. “Like I told you on the phone, she was at the warehouse. Alone. Armed.”
“Who the hell is she, anyway?” Liam interjects.
“Laina,” Dagger says simply.
“The name doesn’t mean much to me. I’ve never met her. Never seen her.”
“She’s connected to Reynolds,” I remind him.
“She fed us some half-assed story about online rumors, but it doesn’t add up,” Ryder continues. “She was nervous, Ash. Jumpy. Like she was expecting someone—or something—to come out of the shadows and grab her.”
“She was lying,” Dagger adds, his voice steady but edged with certainty.
“Of course, she was lying,” I say, dragging a hand down my face. “People don’t go creeping around abandoned warehouses in the middle of the night unless they’re looking for something—or running from something.”
Liam lets out a low whistle under his breath. “Sounds like she’s either brave, stupid, or both.”
“That’s exactly what I said,” Dagger chuckles.
I lean back in my chair, the weight of their words sitting heavy in my chest. Laina. A name with no face and no history; not to me anyway. But she’s tangled up in this mess—tangled up with Reynolds.
“Where is she now?” I ask.
Ryder nods toward the door. “Back at her place. Lights are on, curtains drawn. She’s holed up, but she’s definitely not calm. She knows something. She has a corner unit and it’s outfitted with high-tech security.”
Dagger shifts in his chair. “You want us to go back? Try to get more out of her?”
“No,” I say, my voice firm. “I’ll handle it.”
That gets a reaction. Ryder’s brows shoot up, and Liam lets out a low chuckle.
“You?” Liam smirks, tipping his chair back on two legs. “Since when do you play babysitter, Ash?”
“Since whispers of Reynolds have reached my ears. Whatever she knows, it’s enough to get her—or us killed. I need to know what we’re dealing with.”
Dagger nods, but Ryder’s smirk hasn’t faded entirely. “You know she doesn’t know who you are, right? She’s never met you. You’re just some shadow in the stories she’s been told.”
“That’s fine. Sometimes shadows are scarier than the light.”
“I’ll head over there in the morning. Keep things locked down here,” I order, my voice sharp. “I want everyone on alert until we know what the hell Reynolds is up to. If he’s still alive— if he’s still pulling strings—I don’t want him getting within a mile of this place.”
Liam raises his beer bottle in a mock toast. “Go get her, Ash. Try not to make her cry, yeah?”
I don’t bother responding.