5. Rue
RUE
His body is tight with a primal energy I’ve never experienced before.
“Take your punishment, little hellion.” With a growl, he drives into me.
I scream and he covers my mouth with his hand. “Shhh. This is what you get for running.”
My neck arches as he drives in more. He’s wide and long, hard as stone. Stretching me to the point of pain.
Inside, I’m liquid heat, clenching against him.
He moves his hand from my mouth to my hair as his mask brushes against my ear. “Fuck. You feel amazing.”
I can’t speak. I may never find my voice. I groan instead.
He draws out, thrusts into me with a short, hard punch, and my eyes roll back. Oh my god. He’s huge. I love how rough, how raw he is.
Angling my head, he kisses me roughly, his tongue matching the pace of his hard thrusts.
Between us, the scratchy fabric of the dress abrades my skin, reminding me where we are. How erotic this moment is. That we could get caught.
“God. You’re getting tighter,” he half-moans, his heavy pelvis grinding against me.
When he shifts the angle he’s using, my breath catches hard. “Oh! Ohmygod.”
“You’re gonna come apart on my cock,” he whispers, his voice thick. His body crushes me more into the ground. It’s cold and unforgiving below me. He’s hot and hard above me.
Gunnar’s growling like a beast. Fucking me in the dirt and I’m about to come harder than I ever have before.
A high-pitched whimper tears from my throat and he captures it against his lips.
His pace is relentless. The power of his body completely overwhelms me. I’m shaking, my legs trembling against his, hidden below my zombie dress.
“Fuck.” His body spasms. “You’re rippling. Milking me.”
I don’t know what I’m doing except I’m coming. I groan wildly, my head thrashing as lightning tears through me.
“Jesus fuck,” he says sharply, and he’s suddenly ripping his cock out of me. The unexpected movement sets off another orgasm that flattens me to the ground, leaving me whimpering.
I’m barely aware of Gunnar shoving himself into his jeans. With a low curse, he scoops me up. “There’s someone coming.”
Wait. What?
In the darkness, he straightens my dress, keeping one hand firmly around my upper arm.
“Who is it?” I sway on my feet, my pussy juices coating the inside of my upper thighs.
“G-Man?” A low voice calls.
“Yep,” Gunnar replies sharply, moving me behind him. Protecting me.
A flashlight flickers through the woods. Leaves crunch. Gunnar grunts and exhales a frustrated breath. “Next patrol is coming.”
A man stalks through the forest, feet crunching leaves, coming toward us. “Wondered where the hell you were, G-Man,” he says.
His eyes land on Gunnar, then me, and he tips his chin. “Ah, that explains.”
“This is Skull, one of my brothers,” Gunnar says, gently pulling me around to his side. “Rue’s the zombie who scared the fuck out of the people in the maze.”
“I heard the screams,” he replies, studying me.
Gunnar tells me, “Skull’s wife is a pumpkin selling apple cider.”
“And I’m the pumpkin eater.” Skull grins, opening his leather vest to reveal a T-shirt that says just that. Pumpkin eater in white writing on his black shirt.
I giggle and Gunnar’s head slowly swivels toward me and holds. I can’t see his eyes because of the shadows right now, but boy, I can feel them.
“Enjoy whatever it is you’re up to,” the other biker says, chuckling as he wanders off to do his patrol.
When he’s out of earshot, I laugh again, my brain still warped from being held on the ground and coming twice. I can’t stop myself from asking Gunnar, “Does that make you the zombie eater?”
“Proudly.”
He grabs me and kisses me, stopping anything else I was going to say.
Those big hands of his roam over my back, down to my butt where he grips me through the layers of fabric. He jerks me roughly against his pelvis where he’s still fully erect. “I’m tempted to throw you back on the ground, but next time I want you behind a locked door.”
I nod, pressing my face into his neck, smelling myself on him. It’s intoxicating. Feeling bold, I say, “That sounds like a good plan. But I hope this isn’t the only time you’ll chase me in the woods. I loved it.”
He growls roughly, his hands digging into my hips. “I’m the man for the job.”
Gunnar sets me down, knocks some leaves off my dress and pulls some twigs out of my hair, laughing darkly. “You look even more like you crawled out of a grave.”
I point to his knees where dirt and leaves are clinging to the denim. “Well, in that case you look like you’ve been digging one.”
“Probably should knock that off, not that Skull couldn’t tell what we were doing. You looked like you were punch drunk.”
I cover my face with my hand. “Because I was. Man, that’s embarrassing.”
He glides a hand down my hair, resting the warmth of his palm against the back of my neck. “You’ll get used to club life. Sex isn’t embarrassing.”
My stomach does a weird little flip. Used to club life. Could I?
“Come on. Let’s go raise some more hell. Afterwards, we’re gonna finish what we started.”
His broad shoulder shifting below his motorcycle club vest, he grips my hand and starts down a path, leading us toward the distant sounds of the party.
We’ve barely stepped out of the trees when a sharp voice cuts through the foggy air.
“Well, look who finally crawled out of her sister’s shadow.”
I flinch before I can stop myself because I know that whiny tone. Mallory Stevens stands a few yards away. She’s wearing a glittery black bat costume. On either side, she’s flanked by the same two women who have followed her around since high school. Also dressed as bats.
So original.
“Cute costume, Rue,” she continues in her nasal tone. “Did they run out of your size in everything else?”
Gunnar’s hand tightens around mine and he snarls, “Did they fuck up your face in the maze, or are you always that hideous?”
I make a choked sound. Mallory looks stunned for a second, but quickly covers it with a smile as she tilts her head. “Aww. Look. The big dumb thug is taking up for poor little boring Rue.”
It feels like the air turns brittle enough to crack. I don’t know what’s about to happen, but Gunnar whistles once, lifting a hand, and the nearest motorcycle man jogs over.
He’s young and he doesn’t have a patch on his leather, but he’s clearly the same kind of guy as the others around here.
“This filth and her friends are leaving,” Gunnar says, words tight and sharp. “See them out.”
Mallory looks even more shocked than I feel.
“You heard him. Time to go,” the younger man says, his broad chest expanding with malice.
Mallory lifts her chin defiantly. “Do you know who my father is?”
I bite back a groan. She’s been asking people that same question since middle school. Her father owns three car dealerships.
“The guy picking you up?” the biker asks, chuckling darkly.
Someone behind her snorts. Mallory’s face turns red beneath the sparkly black mask framing her eyes.
Gunnar hasn’t said a word since kicking her out. He stands beside me, huge and silent.
Mallory, being the pain-in-the-ass she is, points at me. “This is pathetic, even for you. What did you do? Tell him you were Claire?”
Heat climbs my neck and all pleasure drains out of my body in one swoop.
Her gaze drops to where Gunnar’s hand is wrapped around mine. The ugly little smile spreading across her face tells me she’s figured it out.
“Oh my God. You did.” Her laugh is acidic and turns my stomach. “He thought you were Claire, didn’t he?”
I try to pull my hand away, but Gunnar tightens his grip.
“He knows I’m not Claire,” I bite out.
Mallory’s smile widens as she stares at Gunnar. “Does he?”
Gunnar takes one step in her direction. The movement is enough to make the women standing behind Mallory scramble back, leaving her alone in front of him.
“Your mouth is buying you more trouble than you can handle.”
The threat hangs in the air. The other biker catches her by the arm, steering her toward the gate.
“This is bullshit,” Mallory shouts, digging her shoes into the dirt. “My entrance fee went to charity.”
“Thank you for your donation,” the biker snaps back.
Mallory shouts at me over her shoulder. “Everyone knows your sister only brings you places because she feels sorry for you.”
The familiar words punch me exactly the way she intends them to. Before I can respond, Gunnar’s hand leaves mine. He starts after her, but I catch the back of his vest with both hands.
“She’s leaving,” I remind him, and I know he stopped because I could never hold him back.
His shoulders rise with a slow breath. “She can’t leave fast enough.”
The biker must agree because he lifts Mallory over his shoulder when she refuses to walk. Her shrieks rise over the music as she kicks him hard enough to lose one of her glittery bat shoes.
The other girls hurry after them without being told and people around us slowly return to their conversations. It’s obvious, though, that several men keep glancing at Gunnar. Or more likely me and Gunnar together.
“She’s always like that,” I explain. “You didn’t have to throw her out. I’m used to her.”
His head tilts slightly. “You think the fact that you’re used to it makes it better?”
“No, but she paid to be here. It’s a charity event.”
“Fuck her money and her daddy too.”
A laugh shocks me when it bubbles up. I press my lips together, but Gunnar hears it. His big hand settles against the middle of my back. The warmth of his palm seeps through the layers of my dress.
“You ready?” he asks.
“For what?”
He jerks his chin toward the corner of the clubhouse. “A tractor ride.”