Chapter 8 - Dice
"You were right, Dice. Coming to the clubhouse was the right call. I... I wouldn't have known what to do on my own."
I can't help the smirk that spreads across my face. "I'm sorry, what was that? Could you repeat it? I think I'm hallucinating."
She punches my shoulder, not gently. "Shut up. It actually cost me something to admit that."
"I know." I rub my shoulder, still grinning. "That's why I'm savoring it."
She rolls her eyes, but there's the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.
"Why is it so hard for you?" I ask, suddenly serious. "Being honest about needing help?"
Maddie sighs, moving away from the couch to lean against the wall, her hair falling around her face in a way that catches the dim light. Even bruised and exhausted, she's beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache.
"You wouldn't understand," she says quietly.
I stand, moving closer to her. "Try me."
She stares at me for a brief moment, like she's weighing how much to reveal, how much to keep hidden. Finally, she takes a deep breath.
"My mother died when I was young. Nine. Cancer." Her voice is flat, emotionless. "After that, my father started drinking. At first, he just yelled. Called me worthless, stupid, blamed me for everything wrong in his life."
I feel my jaw tighten but say nothing, giving her space to continue.
"I was this tiny, shy kid. Never stood up for myself, never asked for help. Just... took it." She looks away. "Then the hitting started. Nothing major at first—a slap here, grabbing my arm too hard there. But it escalated."
"Jesus, Maddie—"
She holds up a hand. "I don't want your pity.
I'm telling you this so you understand. When I got out, when I was finally old enough and strong enough to leave, I promised myself I'd never be that helpless again.
Never. I would control every situation, anticipate every outcome, never rely on anyone else. "
Now her need for control makes perfect sense. It's not arrogance or stubbornness. It's survival.
"That explains a lot," I say finally. "But Maddie, learning to trust someone isn't the same as being weak. Sometimes it takes more strength to let someone in than to keep them out."
She snorts. "That's some fortune cookie wisdom right there."
"Doesn't make it less true." I step closer. "You can trust me, you know."
She pushes off the wall, pointing a finger at my chest. "Should I? Trust someone I just met two days ago because he happens to be the brother of my best friend?"
"No," I say firmly. "You should trust me because I came when you called for help. Because I fought for you. Because I risked my neck and my standing with the club to keep you safe." I catch her hand, lowering it gently. "Trusting me is the least you could do, considering."
Her expression shifts, frustration evident as she pulls her hand away. She starts pacing the small living room, running her fingers through her hair. "You don't get it. Trust isn't something I give away. Ever. To anyone."
I try to focus on her words, but I'm distracted by the way her hips sway as she moves, the curve of her ass in those tight jeans. She's fucking sin incarnate, a test of my willpower that I'm rapidly failing.
She turns, catching me staring. "Are you even listening to me?"
"Every word," I say, though we both know my mind was elsewhere.
She shakes her head. "You're impossible."
"So I've been told." I take a step toward her, making a decision I know is reckless.
James gets out in five days. Once he's here, whatever this is between Maddie and me becomes impossible.
She's his best friend, practically his sister.
There are codes, boundaries. But right now, in this moment, with adrenaline still coursing through our veins and the uncertainty of tomorrow hanging over us, those boundaries feel less important.
I close the distance between us in three strides, catching her hand and pulling her to me before she can retreat. Her body collides with mine, soft curves against hard angles. Her face is inches from mine, eyes wide with surprise.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she demands, but she doesn't pull away.
"I have no fucking idea," I admit. "But it feels right, having you this close."
Her eyes search mine, a battle clearly raging behind them. "It does," she agrees softly. "But it can't happen, Dice. Not here with your biker brothers right below us. And what would we tell James?"
"I don't have answers for any of that," I say honestly. "And I don't care. Everyone says I'm impulsive, reckless… It's who I am. Take it or leave it."
A slow smirk spreads across her face. "I've always had a thing for men who act first and think later."
She places her hands on either side of my face, her touch surprisingly gentle. Her eyes flutter closed as she leans in, and I meet her halfway.
Her lips are softer than I imagined, with a hint of vanilla from her lip balm. The kiss starts slow, a question being asked and answered. Then something awakens, breaks loose, and suddenly we're devouring each other.
We stumble across the room, lips and hands never leaving each other's bodies.
I tear at her shirt, she pulls at mine, both of us desperate for skin-to-skin contact.
I manage to lock the door before turning back to find her standing there in nothing but black lace underwear, her curves on full display.
"Fuck," I mutter, the word coming out like a prayer.
She takes a step back, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "You like what you see?"
She turns slowly, giving me a view of her perfect ass, round and firm and begging for my hands.
"You shouldn't tease a man like that," I warn, my voice rough with desire.
"I've always been a teaser," she replies, looking over her shoulder at me. "What are you going to do about it?"
I grin, feeling something primal stir inside me. I've been searching for someone like her, someone who pushes my buttons, challenges me, matches my energy. In two days, Maddie Brooks has gotten under my skin in ways no woman ever has.
I cross to her in three quick strides, spinning her around and pressing her against the wall, her back to my chest. She gasps, surprised by the sudden movement.
"This position feels familiar," she taunts. "Had my fair share of run-ins with cops, you know."
I chuckle against her ear. "No cop has ever done this to you."
I turn her around and hook my fingers into her panties and drag them down her thighs, tapping her legs to get her to spread them wider. When I look down, I nearly groan at the sight of her pussy, already wet and gleaming with arousal.
I drop to one knee, gripping her hips to hold her still, and run my tongue along her slit in one long, slow lick.
"Fuck!" she hisses, her head falling forward against the wall.
She tastes better than I imagined, sweet and tangy, and I dive in hungrily, lapping at her like a man starved. Her thighs start to shake, and I grip them tightly, holding her in place as I work my tongue over and around her clit.
When I feel her getting close, I look up to find her eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure.
"More," she whispers. "I need more."
I slide one finger inside her, feeling her tight heat clench around me. She swallows hard, fighting to maintain her composure.
"Ask for it," I tell her. "Louder."
She glares down at me, defiant even now. I add a second finger, curling them inside her, fucking her with steady, deliberate strokes. Her resistance crumbles.
"Fuck me," she gasps, louder now. "Right here. Be merciless. Fuck me until my legs give out."
I rise to my feet, unfastening my jeans with my free hand while still working her with my fingers. My cock springs free, rock hard and straining. I lift one of her legs, hooking it around my waist, and position myself at her entrance.
"Look at me," I demand.
Her eyes lock with mine as I push into her, burying myself to the hilt. We both freeze, adjusting to the sensation. She's tight, wet, perfect around me.
"Move," she orders, her nails digging into my shoulders.
I pull back and slam into her again, setting a punishing pace that has her gasping with each thrust. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, our ragged breathing, and the occasional curse as pleasure builds.
I lift her other leg, supporting her weight as I pin her against the wall, driving into her relentlessly. She wraps her legs tightly around my waist, her head falling back as I hit a spot deep inside her that makes her cry out.
"Shhh," I warn, pressing my lips to hers to muffle the sound. "Unless you want the whole club to hear you getting fucked."