His blue eyes are on mine as I look up at him with heavy lashes. He slowly pulls out of my pussy, and I part my lips. My body’s natural reaction is to try to breathe, but I get nothing. He smiles down at me before his cock enters me once again painfully slow.
The room starts to spin, and my eyes flutter. This is how I’m going to go. Letting him kill me sounds better than giving him up.
He slams his hips forward, and my eyes roll back into my head. “That’s it, beautiful,” he says. “That’s what my whore likes.” He pulls out and slams into me again. My chest heaves, trying to breathe. “Come on my dick, doll face. Remind me that I own you.”
My body shudders as my vision fades to black. I’m not sure if I’m passing out or dying, but my body involuntarily jerks, begging to breathe while I come.
His hands let go of my neck, and I cough. Spit flies from my open mouth, and I realize I’m crying as he leans down and kisses my cheeks.
“Good girl, Charlotte.” His hands slide into my hair, and he yanks my head back to expose my neck to his lips. He tenderly kisses my racing pulse while his cock continues to fuck me rough and hard. Smashing my arms underneath us. I can no longer feel them. Nothing else matters except for him right now. He pullsaway and orders, “Eyes on me, doll face. I want to see you while I come inside you.”
My heavy eyes find his, and it takes everything I have to keep them open.
“That’s it. That’s my good little whore.” The sound of our bodies slapping fills the room, and he lowers his lips to mine, kissing me passionately, burying himself deep inside me and pulsing as he comes.
I’m lyingon my bed naked, covered in sweat, and trying to come down as I watch Haidyn dress. His back is toward me, and he’s pulling up his jeans over his black boxer briefs. Once he fastens his belt, he turns and walks over to the side of the bed and picks up his shirt off the floor. I watch shamelessly as he pulls it on, and my eyes are fascinated by how his muscles flex with each movement. My eyes catch sight of the scar from when he was shot before his shirt covers it, and I get a pain in my chest.
It makes me wonder what he’s been through. From the videos the Lords sent me—slitting his wrists to being electrocuted and whipped—I feel sorry for him. And men like Haidyn don’t want pity. They want respect.
What do the Lords want from him? Why send me to do it?
He leans over the side of the bed and plants a soft kiss on my forehead, and I want to wrap my arms around him and pull him back into my bed. We’re safe here. When he’s inside me, nothing else exists.
When he pulls away, I open my eyes. “Can we go for a ride?” I ask before I lose my nerve.
“You want to go for a ride?” he asks.
I sit up, nodding. “Yeah. On your bike.” I have to make him think he’s in charge and can control things.
“Of course.” He smiles at me, and my stomach sinks. I feel like I’m going to get sick. “Get dressed. We’ll go back to my house and grab a helmet and jacket for you.”
I wave him off. “I don’t need that stuff.”
He snorts. “You’re not getting on the back of a bike unless you’re wearing some kind of gear.”
“I’ve never seen you weargear,” I state, whatever that entails.
He smirks. “I don’t care if I die.”
His words are like a slap in the face, and my breathing becomes labored. As he leans over once again, his lips gently touch mine as he speaks. “I don’t want something happening to you.” With that, he walks into my bathroom.
I take the second alone and bury my face in my hands. I’ve never hated the Lords more than I do right now. They did this on purpose. They put me in his life to take him away from me. I shouldn’t care about this monster as much as I do. I should want to give him up. But I want him to be mine. And I want to be his.
He cares about me. I’m not saying it’s love, but it’s more than what it started out as. Slowly, I get out of bed and walk to my closet to get dressed, still trying to think of a plan to save us both.
HAIDYN
Twenty minutes later,we’re at my house. I’m pulling my bike into the driveway while she parks her SUV in the garage. I walk over to the wall and grab a helmet and a jacket. They’re too big for her, but it’s better than nothing. I was being honest when I said that I didn’t care if I died. I’ve seen too many riders die due to a lack of gear.
She walks over to me on autopilot, and I slide her arms into the jacket and over her shoulders zipping it up. “Have you ever ridden on the back of a bike?” I ask.
She shakes her head. I want to spank her ass with my belt for not using her words, but I’ll let it slide this time because I have bigger plans for her.
She’s quiet. More than usual. My eyes look over her jeans and tennis shoes, and I watch her nibble on her lip. Her hands have a death grip on her phone, and her eyes stare straight ahead. Her back is rigid, and she still wears the ring that dipshit gave her as if it means something.
I pretended to be surprised that she canceled dinner, but I wasn’t. She’s getting easier to read. Unable to hide what she’s thinking from me.
She wanted to feel something from me, so she chose sex. She wanted me to erase her mind of the fake boyfriend. Even though it wasn’t real, he still made her feel bad for what we’re doing. Fuck that piece of shit.
