Chapter 2
It wasn’t much, but it was more than she’d expected based on what Sons of Anarchy had shown. Maybe twelve by twelve, a double-sized bed, shelves along one wall, a door probably leading to a bathroom, which was a relief, since she needed to go.
She walked to it, and he said, “I share a bathroom with Paco. Always knock before opening the door, and if you’re inside and someone knocks, you’ll need to speak up if you don’t want a visitor.”
She knocked, didn’t hear anything, and went in. It was just a sink, toilet, and small shower, but that was fine.
Before she closed the door behind her, he told her, “No need in coming out of there with your clothes on.”
She sat on the toilet and stripped, folding everything neatly on the small counter because her hands needed something to do.
But while she peed, it was like all of her energy left her.
She’d had a really long day, and she still wasn’t exactly handling the loss of the pack, and the pack’s energy.
She felt weak, and she didn’t like it one bit.
When she stepped back into the room completely naked, Knife had removed his clothes, too. He pointed to the bed and said, “Knees and chest.”
She climbed on and settled into position with her legs spread wide, cool air on all her private parts completely on display, her cheek pressed to the sheet.
He moved behind her, his big hand smoothed down her back and then gripped her hip hard enough to add to the bruises from earlier, and it was fucking perfect. The blunt head of his cock pressed against her asshole, and he wasn’t in the mood to be gentle, but that was fine with her.
He slammed inside her in a long, relentless thrust, stretching her open around his thick length.
She screamed into the mattress, body jerking, but he didn’t slow.
Didn’t give her time to adjust. He fucked her hard and deep, hips crashing against her ass, every brutal stroke driving the message home — this ass was his.
Every raw, stretched, burning inch of it.
Despite the sharp burn, she pushed back, accepting and welcoming the invasion and the pain. She needed the stretch, the fullness. Needed him inside her more than she’d ever needed anything, and that meant accepting everything he gave her.
“Fuck,” he growled, bottoming out. “So goddamn tight.”
The sound of skin on skin filled the small room. Each thrust drove her forward on the bed, her nipples dragging against the sheet, her clit throbbing untouched and desperate.
Eventually, he reached around, found her swollen clit, and pinched it hard while he kept pounding into her ass. The sharp pain mixed with the deep stretch made her sob and shake, and sent her spiraling.
“Come,” he ordered, voice rough. “Now, little painslut.”
Her body obeyed instantly. The orgasm crashed through her hard, asshole clamping down around his cock like a fist, thighs shaking as she cried out into the mattress.
He fucked her straight through it, relentless, using her hole like he owned it, chasing his own pleasure in her wrecked, trembling body.
He only pulled out long enough to flip her onto her back, shove her legs wide, and slam back into her ass in a single, vicious thrust. The new angle let him grind against her clit with every stroke.
He fucked her like he was trying to crawl inside her, like he could erase the weeks apart with the force of his cock, and when it was too much, when the emotions made tears want to come to her eyes, she closed them.
He grabbed her jaw and growled, “Open your damned eyes and look at me. You don’t get to hide. Let me see inside your soul while I ream your tight fucking ass with my cock.”
She opened her eyes and even more heat rushed to her core, so she nearly came again on the spot.
The office had been him venting his anger into her body, and this was too, but the very fact he wanted to see inside her while he rage-fucked her with a snarl on his face and his wolf in his eyes told her he was going to get past it.
He changed angles so he pounded her clit, and her body went over again. She came even harder this time, sobbing his name as her whole body seized around him.
He buried himself deep and followed her over with a low groan, emptying himself inside her, his eyes closed in bliss.
For a long moment, they stayed locked together, breathing hard. Then he pulled out gently, rolled her to the side, and wrapped himself around her from behind. One arm banded across her waist, his palm resting possessively over her mound, fingers lightly stroking her still-throbbing clit.
She melted into him, boneless and aching and finally, finally home. Completely wiped, weaker than ever… and yet, she was more herself than she’d been since she’d walked into Homewood’s underground that afternoon.
He held her, his arms an anchor holding her to reality, and she melted into him for the few seconds of consciousness she had before sleep took her.
She was awakened later by sounds around them. Knife slept through it, his arms still around her, but clearly, the walls down here weren’t soundproof.
She heard the distinct sounds of a belt hitting flesh, and a male voice counting them out. “Seven, Sir. Eight, Sir.”
She wasn’t absolutely sure it was Matty until she heard Razor growl out, “Get your ass higher, boy.”
“I’m sorry, Sir! I’ll do better!”
“Damned straight you will.”
Her thighs pressed together instinctively.
Even exhausted and sore, the sharp crack of leather and Razor’s commanding growl sent a fresh, unwanted pulse of heat straight to her clit.
But she was exhausted, and she was nearly asleep again when she heard flesh on flesh, either a large hand or perhaps a leather paddle striking an ass, and then Lexi’s voice, “I’m sorry!
I got carried away! I didn’t mean to be disrespectful to him! ”
The spanking kept going until Lexi was sobbing, gasping out apologies.
The steady rhythm of flesh being struck, followed by Lexi’s broken, gasping sobs and sincere apologies made Tuesday’s clit throb in sympathy — and something darker.
When it finally stopped, she heard Bubbles’ deep voice quietly telling her he knew she’d be more careful with her words in the future, and then telling her to go to sleep. No, not telling her. It was clearly an order, which Lexi must’ve obeyed, because her tears and sobbing quietly faded.
She’d wondered, when the word ‘allowed’ had been used so freely, if all the bikers were kinky.
She was glad Knife was only kinky inside of scenes, but figured that was a conversation the two of them should have, because she’d never agree to a 24/7 total power exchange.
She was glad it worked for other people, but it would never work for her.
Still, lying there wrapped in Knife’s arms while others were punished around them only made her press closer to him.
She didn’t remember falling back asleep, but she clearly did, because she awakened sometime later with Knife’s thick fingers pressing hard into her pussy, and her hips rising up to meet them.
He didn’t ask. He didn’t warn her. He rolled her onto her back, shoved her legs wide, and drove his cock into her in one savage thrust.
The sudden stretch and violent incursion made her gasp — she was still raw and bruised inside from the night before, but he didn’t care.
He fucked her hard and deep from the very first stroke, hips driving his thick length into her with bruising force.
One hand braced beside her head, the other found her breast and squeezed her nipple viciously, twisting it between his fingers while he pounded into her.
His eyes watching her face the whole time.
“Look at me,” he growled when her eyes fluttered. “Don’t you fucking look away. You don’t get to fucking hide from me.”
She kept her eyes locked on his, even as the pleasure bordered on too much.
Every brutal stroke ground against her clit, still swollen from his abuse the night before.
Every vicious twist of his fingers on her nipple sent sharp sparks shooting straight to her core with the realization he was reminding her exactly how far his ownership of her went.
After long minutes of relentless pounding, he pinched and twisted her nipple harder, digging his nails into the sensitive peak, and ordered in that low, gravelly voice,
“That’s it. Hurt for me. Suffer through it and show me you need me to fucking hurt you. Come on my cock, little painslut.”
Her body obeyed instantly, and the climax slammed through her like a freight train, her cunt clamping down around him in violent, rhythmic pulses. She cried out, eyes still locked on his, thighs shaking as wave after wave ripped through her.
He fucked her through it, then buried himself to the hilt and came with a deep growl, pulsing hot inside her while her walls kept milking him. His hips jerked once, twice, then stilled as he emptied himself completely.
He stayed buried inside her for a long moment, breathing hard, forehead pressed to hers. Then he kissed her, slow and deep, and whispered against her lips, “Good morning, little wolf.”
This room might not be his house, but it didn’t matter because she was in his arms, and that was home. Wherever those arms were. It didn’t matter.
But she had to pee, and she couldn’t lay there forever.
She barely remembered to knock on the door before opening it.
Once inside, she did her business and looked at herself in the mirror.
One nipple pink, the other an angry blood-red.
Her clit throbbed away inside her lips, but that wasn’t noticeable in the mirror.
Her hair was a disaster, but she could put it into a ponytail.
Would he go get a ponytail holder from her car, she wondered?
She came out and noted, “I don’t have a change of clothes, I need a ponytail holder, and someone destroyed a perfectly good pair of panties.”