“What?” I gasped.
“I’m going to ruin you for him and any other man. And when I’m done ruining you for him I’m gonna throw you away like the trash that you are.” He said it with such certainty that I didn’t doubt for a second the trueness to his words. Disdain and calmness were in every word he uttered. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, he put the final nail in my coffin. “And then,” he said, his face getting so close to mine that I couldn’t focus on him properly, “I’m gonna kill him.”
“Ripped!” I gasped, jerking back from him. “Don’t, please! You promised.”
“Please?” he snarled, gripping my chin again, only that time I let him. I didn’t pull away. I didn’t put up a fight. I let him grip my face like I was butter and he could push his fingers right through me, because I’d do whatever the hell it took to save Battle. To save Gracie and to save Bonny. I’d do whatever it took for the people I loved, even if that meant giving up on me. “Your pleading don’t mean shit to me anymore,” he said through gritted teeth. “Tell you what, I’ll give you a choice: that slut of a friend of yours or him.”
I reared back like he’d slapped me and he laughed in my face. “Ripped, you know that her daughter is yours.”
His smile fell and his features darkened.
“That’s the mother of your child. You wouldn’t kill her.”
He didn’t need to say anything for me to know he would. The crazed look in his eye told me that he would, and he’d enjoy doing it too because he’d enjoy the pain it would cause me.
“Do we have a winner?” he replied darkly.
I was mute. Struck dumb by the horror of his words and the threat of his actions. But it was what it was, I realized. I looked around the room knowing that no man there was going to help me. No one was going to go up against Ripped. It was my mess. Mine and Battle’s, and if he wasn’t already dead, he would be soon because there was no way I could let anything happen to Gracie despite what she’d done to me.
Ripped stood up before reaching down, grabbing my arm, and dragging me up to stand next to him. The atmosphere in the club was tense, every man on edge as they waited to see what happened. It was obvious everyone knew what had been going on between me and Battle, and from the looks on their faces, they all hated me for putting them in that situation. They all hated that I’d created a ripple between their clubs. I couldn’t blame them.
Hardy, the president of the Highwaymen, was glaring at me, a dark look in his eyes as he sipped his whiskey. A lot of the Highwaymen weren’t there, but I didn’t have time to wonder why as I looked over at Fighter. He was still sitting at the bar, his body so tense it could break metal. His dark eyes were on me and Ripped, but he didn’t make any move to come to my rescue. I was glad. I didn’t deserve to be rescued. I’d created the situation and it was up to me to live with it.
I looked away from Fighter and back to Ripped.
Ripped began to pull me through the room and I didn’t fight him. I couldn’t—not if I wanted to protect Gracie.
Ripped dragged me down the hallway toward the room we’d been staying in, pushing the door open wide and shoving me inside. I stumbled but somehow stopped myself from falling over, and I listened as the door slammed shut behind me.
I winced, tears burning in my eyes. Tears that I refused to let go of. They were mine and I wouldn’t give them to Ripped. He didn’t deserve them. He came behind me, his large hands gripping my arms as he placed his mouth at my neck.
I shuddered against his touch, my body repulsed by him, but he took it as the opposite, thinking that I was enjoying it.
“Just give in and enjoy it. Your body clearly is,” he muttered against my skin.
He reached around and placed his large hand over my throat and tipped my head back. My heart beat against my ribs, my heart screaming at him to get off me, but I stayed exactly where I was. His other hand spread over my stomach and he dragged my body against his, pressing our bodies together, my back against his front. His hard cock pressed against my ass, throbbing in anticipation. He was loving it, and he would love it until he was done with me. And there was nothing I could do about it.
I sighed, letting my sadness wash through me as I blocked out him and his touch. His fingers found the buttons on my jeans before undoing them and pushing them down my shaking legs.
I let Ripped use me.
Abuse every part of my body that he wanted to.
He took pleasure from my pain and my discomfort and he was relentless in it.
And the harder he fucked me, the more I blacked him out. The more I remembered Battle’s touch and Battle’s kisses and I blurred out Ripped.
His body was layer upon layer of lethal muscles and he could have broken me in a second—snapped my puny neck with one hand if he wanted to. But despite the punishment his large cock inflicted upon my body, he never bruised my skin and instead chose to drag orgasm after orgasm out of me.
I didn’t want to.
I didn’t want him.
But the body is an instrument and he knew exactly the keys to play with me.
He took his time, and he knew that would be the greater punishment.
My heart may have belonged to Battle, but Ripped still owned my body, and as another orgasm rolled through me and my cries left my mouth only to be swallowed by Ripped, I cried in shame.
