Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Melissa
“Melissa!” Millie whispers harshly at me as we find a quiet spot. “Why didn't you tell them the truth?”
I pull out a chair and grab two drinks Old Fella pours for us, placing them back on our table. “We'll start with you first. Why were you running?”
Her face slips. She sips her water, and then again, before finally placing the glass onto the table. “Someone's after me.”
“What?” I whisper, checking to make sure no one hears. Two prospects wander nearby while Yana entertains the Vixens over by the pool table, but other than that, either people are still in the Chapel or they’re outside.
“Yeah, I—I heard something I shouldn’t have.” Fear threads through her words before she gulps more water.
“Who? What?” Questions spill from my lips.
Millie sets her glass down. “The Priest. He—”she pauses, shaking her head. “I just overheard him telling the nun something that shocked me. He saw me, and had made my life hell.”
“Shit,” I whisper, blinking back the memories I had of the cathedral in Prague. “Well, don’t worry. You’ll be safe here too.”
A small smile crosses her face as she nods, just as the Chapel doors swing open.
“How were the Vixen’s?” I ask Yana as she pulls out the chair beside me, finally finished with what I bet was an interrogation.
Yana shrugs. “Not bad, I guess.”
“Do they all deliberately style themselves as pinup girls?” My eyes scan the group. “Hella would've fucked every single one by now.”
Realisation hits me that I voiced this thought aloud, and I quickly down my remaining drink. “I need air.”
Nyx had been with me the last time I visited this place. His friendship held me like a baby when I needed it. Now I'm an orphan, left to deal with this biker on my own. I'm curious what he would have said if I had told him everything about my past.
My gaze falls on the old Pohutukawa tree in the corner, the same tree where Nyx and I once sat discussing our fucked-up lives. My feet carry me toward it without conscious thought.
I settle against the trunk with a heavy sigh. Questions flood my mind about why I returned to this place that stripped away whatever sanity I had left when my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Guilt seeps through me as I slide my phone unlocked onto Chase's message. Despite his average qualities, all of which I'd take over Hella's excessively disappointing ones, we managed to maintain mutual ground. I wish I could settle down with someone like him without getting bored.
I wish I were just... normal.
u get there okay?
I did. Thanks for checking in.
No problem. That was a little intense…
I laugh. I can practically see his fresh-faced grin through the screen, and my mood lightens.
Just a little.
What're u wearing?
A hint of a smile plays across my lips. My spine settles against the rough bark while my fingers dance across the screen, composing my reply.
Nothing interesting. Though I could do with some help removing my clothes…
u and I both know u don't need any help. What r u thinking about?
I'm thinking I'd much rather be under u right now…
Me too baby. My hand is gripped around my cock with thoughts of ur screams filling my ears.
My chest rises and falls, each breath fanning the heat pooling low in my belly. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and hit send.
My nipples are hard just thinking about how good they feel in your mouth… your tongue, on my pussy, swallowing every moan
— “What are you doing?” A deep voice growls from the darkness, freezing my fingers mid-text. My phone disappears into my pocket with the guilty speed of a child caught raiding the cookie jar.
“Hey, Hella…” I answer, my voice embarrassingly breathy and sweet, nothing like the spitfire he knows.
His eyes narrow. “Who are you texting?”
I swallow, my tongue sliding over suddenly parched lips. His jaw locks into a hard line.
“Are you fucking sexting that cocksucker?”
“What?” Horror floods my voice, hoping my cheeks aren’t beet-red. I push to my feet, nearly stumbling. God. My thighs squeeze together, a desperate attempt to quiet the insistent throbbing of my clit. Why does my body have to be such a dirty little slut?
One hand braces against the tree trunk while the other swipes at the beads of sweat that formed across my forehead.
Heat pours off him as he stalks closer, his voice dropping deadly low.
“I'll ask you again.” I retreat until rough bark digs into my spine.
“Were you sexting that fucker before I walked out here?” He tilts his head, menace in every line of his body.
With his cap flipped backward, nothing shields me from the murderous look he has in his eyes.
“Um,” I stammer, glancing desperately around. Then clarity strikes. “Hang on a minute!” Who the fuck does he think he is?
His palms crash against the trunk, one on each side of my head, trapping me between his arms.
Shit.
“Hmm?” he probes, eyebrows arched. His soft lips hover just above mine as he whispers, “You were saying?” Electricity crackles between us, and my breathing deepens.
“No,” I lie, terror gripping at the thought of what he might do. His body presses against mine, muscled chest grazing my nipples until my eyes flutter closed. One powerful thigh pushes between my legs and after a moment's resistance, I give up, letting him in.
“Are you lying to me?” His other leg forces mine wider apart as I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He grinds his cock against my stomach, and my clit throbs in jealousy, wishing it was her.
His fingers thread through my hair, twisting hard enough that my head snaps back, exposing my throat and sending a sharp ache down my scalp. His other hand traces my spine, slow, almost taunting, the air prickling cold over my skin.
He grabs my ass, fingers digging deep enough to bruise. The look in his eyes? Dark, wild hunger. Unmistakable.
A rush of anticipation coils through my body.
“You forgot one thing.” He drags his nose along mine before capturing my bottom lip between his teeth.
“And what's that?” I breathe, holding firm.
He smirks. “You're mine.”
His mouth crashes against mine, and at first, I try to fight.
By God, I try to fight, but his teeth snap at my lower lip and I’m done for.
My fingers curl into the short hair at his nape, nails scraping his scalp.
He makes a sound—half growl, half groan—as his calloused hands dig into the soft flesh of my thighs, hoisting me up.
My back scrapes against scaled bark as he forces me deeper into the shadows, the yellow glow from the clubhouse windows catching the sweat beading on his forehead.
His knee wedges between my thighs, forcing them apart. The rough denim of his jeans catches against my skin as I rock against him, desperate for the pressure where I need it most.
He hooks one finger into my tank top, yanking until threads snap and cotton tears. Cool air pebbles my exposed skin. His breath comes hot against my chest, which makes me arch toward his mouth, my head falling back against the tree as a whimper escapes.
“Hux,” I gasp, desperation dripping from my voice.
He growls against my neck, low and possessive. “Say it again.” His voice sends shivers down my spine as his grip on my ass tightens.
“Huxley,” I moan, his name escaping my lips on a breathless whimper.
With one swift motion, he reaches into his jeans, unsheathing his rock-hard cock. His eyes lock onto mine, smoldering with lust and dominance. He grabs my ruined panties and yanks them down.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he commands, voice dark and hungry. Obediently, I do as he says, my heart pounding against my ribcage.
He lines himself up with me, his tip teasingly brushing against my entrance.
“Good girl,” he praises before plunging deep in one thrust.
I gasp; his invasion both painful and intoxicating. Heat pools between my thighs, my inner walls clenching around him, adjusting to his girth.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he groans, his breath on my neck sending shivers down my spine. He withdrawals, circles, and then slams back in, deeper.
My nails dig into his shoulders. “Harder.” His hips move in a merciless rhythm, driving me higher and higher.
“You like this, huh?” He grunts, our bodies slapping together in a primal rhythm.
“Yes,” I moan. “Harder... more...”
He drives into me relentlessly, his iron grip bruising my hips, but I don't care. I want more, need more, the pleasure and pain coalescing into one explosive swirl.
His thrusts become erratic, his breathing ragged. “Fuck—”
My teeth sink into his shoulder to muffle my screams.
With a growl that rattles my bones, he drives one last desperate time into me. Hot cum slips out of my body and down my thighs as he collapses against my chest.
Minutes pass before he slowly lowers me to the ground, and I shift my clothes around the best I can.
Shit. Well. That didn’t take long.
He fixes his belt. “Stay with me.”
“What?” I whisper, my head turned slightly over my shoulder.
I need to put space between us.
“Stay with me,” he repeats.
“I can't. It'd be too obvious.” You will not fucking fold.
My fingers slip from his grasp as I stumble forward, gravel crunching beneath my feet when I see Jada and Millie heading out of the clubhouse.
My body betrays me. Every cell screams to turn back, to melt into his warmth, to have those rough hands on my skin whenever I want. But deep down, old wounds are still raw.
Jada bypasses the van, heading toward a glossy red muscle car. I'm no expert, but I recognize the older Dodge Charger. One of the Westbeach boys back home drives a black one just like it.
“Oh, you’re still coming?” Jada sasses, and God, I’ve missed her.
I fight back a smart reply, shooing Millie into the backseat so I can slip in beside her.
“In the front.” Hella’s voice stops me as he pulls the driver's side open.
My shoulders slump in defeat. Of course this is his car.
Of course he wants me in the front.