Chapter 23 Sin
SIN
Knox is a dumb piece of shit hiding behind an arrogant front. His people made it easy for me to follow them, even after they caught sight of me. It’s like they don’t know a bike can keep up with them in the dark.
Even as I back off so they can’t see me, tracking them is easy. As easy as spying on Knox has been this last week. Stupid fuck.
That he’s taken her at all is a bad move. Being sheriff doesn’t make him untouchable in my world. If there’s so much as a bruise on Wren, I will torture him slowly. No succumbing to rage. A methodical dismembering that will take weeks.
Knox’s orders are predictable. He likes to rotate between the same secret locations. And this one fits the bill—an abandoned weigh station. Like it’s not obvious. It’s the only thing around for miles, off the beaten path enough to not garner attention.
And within our territory, so I know exactly how to get in there and get out without anyone seeing me.
I cut my engine, turn off the light, and stash my bike for an easy exit with Wren in hand.
Two men stand smoking under a lone working light. Amateurs. Did they really think they lost me?
I move through shadows—quiet, patient, predatory.
This won’t be a quick kill because I’m angry.
The first man doesn’t see me before I get a hold of him—a hand to his throat and a knife thrust between his ribs. Quiet, piercing a lung. He can’t scream with the gurgle of blood filling his airways.
He can survive. If he gets immediate help. Which he won’t.
The second one turns, and he shouts. I drop the first guy and meet the second with bare fists, slamming one into his nose with a crunch. He staggers, pulls his gun and gets off a wild shot.
Stupid.
I slam him into the wall beside his buddy, knock the gun out of his hand too easily, and slide my knife into his gut without remorse.
Inside, chaos erupts—doors banging, men shouting, signaling me that more are inside. Wreckless.
My fury transforms into controlled destruction. Instincts hone my movements. My decisions. And I’m fighting smart. Ending every man who comes through that door until I’m sure I’ve got the last guy.
I leave him alive, kicking the phone out of his hand as he tries to make a call.
He’s scrambling, but he’s cornered.
“You the one who made contact with Rook?”
“Look. It’s just business—”
I slam my heel into his knee, and he howls in pain. Once he catches his breath, desperation shines into his eyes.
The man’s bleeding badly now. From the gut, from the scalp where his head met concrete. He’s shaking, breath hitching, eyes darting past me like someone’s about to burst through the door and save him.
No one is coming. I killed them all already.
“Didn’t—didn’t think it mattered.” He pants and strains, trying to push further away from me and only gaining inches. “Man, it was just a payday. That’s all. Knox said—”
I crouch in front of him slowly, level with his eyes.
He swallows and keeps talking. People like him always do.
“It’s just a girl.” He shrugs, like it’s a rounding error. “He said she wasn’t yours. Said she belonged to some rich dude running for office.”
Something in my chest goes quiet. Not rage. Clarity.
My fist connects with his mouth hard enough to split skin and knock out teeth. His head snaps back, skull cracking against the wall, and this time when he cries out it’s wet and broken.
I grab his jaw, fingers digging in until he whimpers, forcing him to look at me.
“You don’t get to talk about her,” I say, low. Calm. “Not like that.”
He’s sobbing now. Blood bubbles at his lips. He nods too fast, terror flooding every line of his face.
“I didn’t know. I swear—”
I break his fingers one by one. Slow. Precise. Each snap earns a scream until his voice is gone, and he’s just choking on sound.
I lean closer, my mouth near his ear so that he hears this part clearly. So it sticks. “She’s mine now.”
I let him go. He collapses in a heap, ruined, alive just long enough to understand what he’s done.
Then I stand, wipe the blood from my hands on his jacket, and turn toward the back of the building.
Toward Wren.
That’s when I hear her: Wren calling my name through the walls, muffled.
Everything else stops.
I find her bound and dirty but alive. She looks up, and her face says it all—relief, fear, disbelief.
I cut her loose, hating that my knife is coated in blood, that any of it gets on her. She’s trembling. The moment she’s free, she reaches for me. I attempt to pull back—to keep her from being stained with blood—but she clings to me, arms around my neck, face pressing into the side of my neck.
Good. She doesn’t need to see what I’ve done.
Giving into the other side of myself, I gather her against me, her legs circling around my waist, and I carry her out of the building. She’s shivering and cold, her tight grip and nails digging into my shoulders.
Outside by my bike doesn’t change how tightly she holds onto me. “I need you to let go of me, pretty girl.”
She shakes her head.
And fuck it, I mount my bike with her still wrapped around me. If I revel in holding her against me for a moment more than it would normally take me to start my bike, who’s to say?
Her knees tighten around my waist. “I’ve never ridden on a bike before.”
My hand smooths down her back, feeling her tremble around me, even with the way the engine makes us vibrate. I like the idea of being the first for her in a few ways. Her first ride means something.
To me anyway.
Wren keeps her face pressed into my neck, her breath hot on my skin. Her lips soft. Her nails find my sides under my vest, and I’m tempted to do a lot more than take her home.
“Hold on. Don’t fight my shifts.”
Her nod scrapes her mouth against my throat, and I want too much.
Popping my kickstand, I start us off slowly, learning the balance with the extra weight. She makes a new center of balance. Once we hit the smooth paved road, riding like this feels natural.
Wren wriggles in the smallest of movements, but it’s enough to have my cock raging hard. I feel her moan more than I hear it. If I could slip off her panties and work myself into her without worrying about the increased likelihood of us crashing, I’d do just that.
And she just keeps wiggling.
I’m clenching my jaw, but I know there’s a little turn off just ahead, and I plan to give this spoiled little princess exactly what she’s asking for.
There’s small bump as we turn off, disappearing into the trees. Her high squeak has me laughing. I kick the stand and my hands are on her, grabbing her hips and helping her grind against me. My jeans must be rough against her bare thighs.
Wren’s face tips back, pupils blown wide, and I can’t resist her. Her dark red locks wrap around my fist as I drag her mouth up to mine. Kissing her mystifies me. How can she pull so much feeling—so much need—out of me?
The thought of losing her completely…it split me open in the worst way.
And that’s what I need to do to her. Split her open.
Taking off my vest, I lay it over the warm engine and lean her back. Her hands reach for me as I unzip my jeans. Cock in hand, I give myself a firm stroke before I run my thumb over her soaking wet panties.
Fuck.
“I’m going to fuck you like this. On the back of my bike. Give you a proper ride.”
Her thighs spread a little wider in invitation, and I’m not the kind of man that needs to be told twice.
I tug her panties to the side and rub myself across her soaked folds.
“Is knowing that I did whatever I needed to to get you back a turn on?” I press in, taking only a few inches before I have to retreat and press back in again. Grabbing a hold of her thighs, I hold her open and give her another few punctuated thrusts until I’m balls deep.
Holding her to me, I grind us together as her eyelids flutter.
She’s so damn tight.
I rub my palms up under her shirt, caressing her waist and squeezing the undersides of her breasts and drawing up to pinch her nipples.
The strangled sound in the back of her throat has my cock twitching.
Fucking beautiful.
“Hands around my neck.” It’s easy to coax her to hold on, drape her knees in my elbows, and grasp my handlebars. This angle provides the kind of balance I need to fuck her properly. My hips swing, picking up speed.
The way Wren’s eyes light up from the move, it’s perfection.
She locks on, gaze, hands, pussy. All of her gripping tight. Strangling me with the kind of pleasure I haven’t experienced in a long, long time.
God, she’s practically dripping.
“Enjoying yourself, princess?” I don’t usually talk except to give orders, but something about Wren needs to be teased. Poked and prodded. Provoked.
She bites my lip in response, pulling a laugh out of me before I kiss her.
I’m pumping into her, eating her moans and falling into her a little further. She’s becoming the center of my thoughts too often to be safe.
I can’t help it.
When I tip us to the side, I keep her balanced with one arm and reach between us to strum her clit. Her desperate moan eats at the little restraint left in me.
For the first time in my life, I’m struggling to keep myself in check.
“Come on my cock, princess.”
Her eyelids flutter, mimicking the way her muscles clamp around me. I can barely think, driven by instinct.
Mine. Show me. Make me believe it.
Wren cries out, eyes shutting, body jerking as she comes on me.
Mine.
I get seconds to enjoy it before I’m twitching inside her and filling her up with my seed.
You’re mine.