Dylan POV
What the actual fuck?
My mind and body are completely at war. Everything hurts, but at the same time I feel strangely relaxed, almost floaty. One part of my brain is completely silent while the other half is screaming at me.
I didn’t expect any of this.
I’d hoped I would hate it. I’d hoped I could push him off, get turned off, and prove to myself once and for all that I wasn’t into it. Instead I came the second he pushed all the way inside me, and worse, I fucking liked it. A lot.
I also didn’t expect him to turn so feral. And the scariest part? Some twisted piece of me liked that too. Nothing about me is normal.
His much larger body is still covering mine completely. He’s so much bigger than me. He could really break me if he wanted to, and that thought sits heavy in my chest.
“You were such a good boy for me,” he whispers, pressing soft kisses along my neck.
Heat floods my cheeks. I don’t know why those words affect me so much, but they do. I like it. Fuck, I actually like it.
I can’t move. I can’t even think straight. I should tell him to get off me. I should say I’m not gay and demand he leaves. But I can’t. He’s still on top of me, still so much bigger, and his cock is still buried deep inside me.
His fingers stroke slowly down my side as he keeps kissing my neck. Then he finally pulls back.
I sigh in relief. It’s over. I can go back to pretending none of this happened.
But the second I think that, his hands grip my hips and lift them. I’m too fucked out to fight him.
He shifts, and I feel his cock slide out of me. The empty feeling hits me hard. I hate it. Why do I hate it? Why does it feel like I’m losing something important? Like I want him to push back in and just hold me while I fall asleep.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice low and amused. “Does it feel weird now that my cock isn’t buried in your ass anymore?”
I don’t answer him. Mostly because he’s right.
“You have no idea how fucking perfect this looks,” he murmurs.
I feel the blunt head of his cock rub against my hole again, and then he’s sliding back inside me in one slow push. I groan, my whole body shaking as he presses me flat against the bed, his weight partially on top of me.
“You like the feel of this, don’t you?” he says softly. “Me buried inside you. I don’t even have to fuck you.”
I’m supposed to shake my head. I’m supposed to deny it. Instead I nod, because right now my mind and body aren’t speaking to each other at all.
“Sleep, Little Rabbit.”
I should fight it. I should shove him off and tell him no. But I don’t.
Just this once, I tell myself. Just tonight and never again.
I let myself relax.
He shifts behind me, wrapping his strong arms and legs around my smaller frame, holding me close. I don’t think I can sleep with his cock still inside me.
But then his hand strokes gently down my chest, and somehow… I pass out.
Waking up, Blaze is still wrapped around me, his much larger body pinning me to the bed. I need to move. I need to get the hell out of here before he wakes up.
I shift slowly, carefully, feeling his cock slip out of me. He doesn’t stir.
Good. I don’t want that conversation. Not now. Not ever.
I slip out of bed and head straight for the bathroom. The second I turn on the shower, I catch my reflection in the mirror and freeze.
Bruises cover my shoulders, my neck, and my hips. Dark marks from his hands and mouth. Fucking great. Thanks, asshole.
Stepping into the shower I scrub my body hard and fast, trying to wash away the evidence. When I get out and dry off, I get dressed as quickly as I can.
Before I leave, I stop and look at him. He’s still asleep, breathing deep and even. He won’t like this, but it has to happen.
I grab a pen and a piece of paper. I stare at him for a long moment, then tell myself it’s for the best.
I’m not gay.
That’s all I write. Nothing else. He made a deal, he fucks me, then he leaves me alone. This should be enough to make him back off.
I place the note on the nightstand and slip out of my own apartment like a thief. I shouldn’t have to sneak around in my own place, but I don’t want to be here when he wakes up.
The second I step outside, a black car is already waiting. I sigh and climb in.
My father looks over at me. “You’re setting off late today.”
“Had a bad night’s sleep,” I mutter. “What’s going on?”
“Got a few things to sort. I need you to go somewhere.”
I already know where. “Every time I go there they question why. I don’t look like I belong.”
“You’ve got your story.”
Yeah, I do. My dad was a biker, whole backstory ready. The problem is, the Iron Kings MC isn’t like the club Echo runs. These guys aren’t good. They’re exactly why my father wants me there in the first place.
“Okay. What do you need this time?”
“Ting. Still got to work on that.”
I know who Ting is. He’s possibly got links to the West Side crew, one of the biggest problems for my father right now. There’s a chance the club hasn’t officially signed off on anything, but if they have, Ting is the one doing the dirty work.
“Look, the West crew have made it clear they’re making connections to destroy the south route we use for transporting goods. I know it’s a biker club, I just don’t know which one. Ting has been seen with them, so that’s my bet.”
He’s not wrong. He’s talked about this issue constantly, which is why I keep showing up at the Iron Kings. But I don’t think it’s just Ting. I think it’s a full club agreement.
“Ting might have formed the alliance,” I say, “but I know it was signed off on. There’s no way the other patched members don’t know or didn’t agree.”
“Then you need to find out for me. What’s that woman’s name? His daughter, the prez’s?”
“Allana. That’s the Prez’s daughter. Why?”
“Get close to her. Spend time with her. See if she speaks.”
Is he serious? I’m pretty sure half the club already suspects I’m not into women. I’m not even sure if they’re the kind of place that would accept it… or kill someone for it.
“You’re thinking and not speaking,” my father says.
I am thinking and not speaking, because I’m fairly certain Grim is gay. He’s got an old lady, but I’m almost positive he’s into men, and I can’t exactly tell my father I plan to talk to the gay guy instead.
“Just thinking of what conversations to bring up with her,” I lie.
The car stops and my father gestures toward the club. “It’s early. The bar will be quiet and most of the guys will be working. Use that. Anything said will be easier to hear.”
I nod and get out.
“Dylan,” he calls before I can walk away. I stop. “Where’s the gun?”
I don’t feel comfortable carrying one, but he slides it over along with a holster.
“You’re possibly in enemy territory. Even if no one knows you’re my son, it doesn’t mean it’s safe. Next time don’t leave without it.”
“Sure. Fine,” I mutter. I put the holster on and make sure the gun is hidden well enough. Then I head down the street toward the club.
The moment I reach the gate, the guy on duty looks me over. Diesel, I think his name is.
“Back again?” He tilts his head and opens the gate.
“Told you, I grew up in Hells Chrome. I miss it.”
He chuckles. “That place went to shit.”
“Yeah, I know. Everyone’s either dead or locked up.”
He doesn’t say anything else, so I walk in. Inside, it’s busy but nowhere near as packed as it gets in the evenings. I head straight to the bar and sit down.
“Back so soon?”
I turn and see Grim leaning against the bar, watching me.
“Guess I just enjoy the atmosphere,” I say.
He laughs. “You like bikes, right?”
I nod. I know enough about bikes, I read up on them the moment my father said he was sending me here. “Sure do. Just can’t ride one myself.”
“Let me show you one,” he says, already walking toward the lot.
Is this a setup? It feels like a fucking setup. I slide off the stool and follow him, my hand discreetly checking for the gun at my side.
He leads me to a small building and slides the door up. I pause when I see the bike. Damn. I recognize it immediately from all the articles I read.
“Yours?” I ask, stepping inside and pretending to admire it. To me it’s just a bike. I don’t get the hype.
“Sure is.”
I don’t know much about MCs, but I’m pretty sure this club can’t afford a bike like this without some serious outside connections. “Have you been on it?”
“Once. Need to keep it under wraps for now.” He shrugs. “Figured with who your dad was and everything, you’d appreciate it.”
I nod and move closer. “I do. It’s supposed to be a really smooth ride.” That part I actually read in a review.
“You have no idea. It’s like riding heaven.”
“It’s not cheap,” I mutter.
“No, but it’s worth it. Got some deals lined up. This was a gift from one of them.”
A gift? Maybe it’s not the West Side crew then. They usually deal in drugs and cash, not bikes. Still, I can’t rule it out completely.
I have a choice here. I could go after the Prez’s daughter, Allana, but that’s dangerous territory. If she thinks we’re hitting it off, her father won’t let me walk away without a proposal.
Or I take a risk with Grim. I know he’s gay, but then what? What the fuck do I do if I flirt with him and he freaks out?
“How’s your old lady?” I ask, trying to sound uninterested.
Grim sighs. “Visiting her sister for the week.”
“You don’t seem too hard done by,” I mutter.
“She knows me. I might have made her my old lady, but she knows if there’s an opportunity, I’m fucking a woman.” He says it casually, like she doesn’t matter. Maybe she doesn’t.
I hum, not sure what the hell to say to that.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Grim continues, “I like my women… but I’m not picky when something better comes along.”
My whole body tenses. What the fuck?
“I get that,” I reply. It was supposed to sound casual, but it comes out quiet and breathy instead.
Grim smirks. “Want to sit on it?”
I spin around and stare at him. “What?”
He laughs and points at the bike. “The bike, Dylan. Go ahead, take a seat.”
Right. Of course he meant the bike.
I’ve never actually sat on a real motorcycle before. I move carefully and swing my leg over, settling onto the seat. I can do this. I don’t have to flirt back I can just let him flirt and see where it goes.
Grim steps in closer, leaning over me from the side. “So this part here…” He starts explaining the controls and different parts of the bike.
I completely zone out. Mechanical talk has never interested me, and right now it’s impossible to focus with him this close.
He laughs suddenly, and I force myself to laugh along even though I have no idea what he just said.
“Some things just feel right,” he says, voice dropping lower, “even when you’re not supposed to want them.”
I nod quickly, heart hammering.
“Like this beast,” he continues, eyes on me now instead of the bike. “Shouldn’t want it… but fuck, I do.”
My body is wired tight. He’s way too close. I can still feel the weight of the gun against my side, and right now I’m not sure if that’s comforting or terrifying.