Nash’s chest heaved, Cassie’s scream ricocheting in his skull, the look on her face like shrapnel under his skin.He glanced at his watch again.Christ.He couldn’t show up like this.Couldn’t sit across from her with his hands full of violence and his brain tearing itself in two.
He jabbed a finger toward the blonde beneath Crusher’s arm.“You—with me.”Already turning, already stalking for the hall.
Her eyes went wide before she scrambled loose, nearly tripping on her heels in her hurry to catch him.
Nash, shoving through the office door, kicked it shut as she darted in behind him.
She couldn’t have been more than mid-twenties—smooth skin, long legs poured into a too-short denim skirt, a halter top hugging generous breasts.
Club bunnies were one of the perks of the patch—the women hailing from nowhere towns and broken families who hung around hoping for a property patch, some piece of permanence.What they usually got was passed around and left with nothing but a shitty story to tell.
“C’mere,” he said, dropping onto the couch, already working open his belt buckle.
She dropped to her knees, eager fingers tugging at his zipper.Her mouth closed around him—sucking, licking—
He still wasn’t fully hard.
“Faster,” he growled.
The bunny obeyed.His breath shuddered out, hips jerking despite himself.For a moment, it worked.
Then—Cassie’s goddamn face flashed again.Her scream echoed.Those green eyes lit from the inside, glaring at him like he was the devil himself.
His fists clenched; blood roared in his ears.His body wanted one thing; his head refused to let it happen.
He glanced at his wrist—he should have left five minutes ago.At the rate his dick was going, it might as well have been five years.
The bunny’s hair brushed his thigh as she shifted—flat, brittle blonde.Not the kind a man could grab and really hold onto.Not like—
—dark, heavy curls, damp with sweat, smelling of creek water and blackberries, spilling across his thighs as her tongue dragged clumsily, teeth grazing before she pulled back laughing.
He was hard now—painfully so.The chair squeaked as his hips punched up—
—springs groaning under rusted steel, the whole pickup shuddering as his boots scraped for purchase.Her legs wrapped around his hips, arms hooked tight around his neck.
“You sure you’re ready, Cas?”
“Nash Walker, if you don’t fuck me right this minute, I’m gonna—”
The blonde’s nails dug into his thighs—
—dragging down his back, her breath breaking against his jaw with every thrust, every desperate pull closer.
The pressure coiled, merciless.Present and past colliding, memory drowning out flesh until—
—moonlight caught her eyes, glossy and wild, locked on him like he was her whole goddamn world and—
His release tore through him, fast and brutal, body straining tight, before the guttural sound ripped loose.
And then Nash was up and moving, yanking his zipper closed, grabbing his keys off the desk.
“I could stop by tomorrow if you want?”the blonde called after him.
He didn’t answer.The blow job meant to drain the fury had only wound it tighter, tearing open memories he hadn’t let himself touch in years.His head still ached, his hands still itching for a fight, his pulse hammering from far more than release.
“Fuck,” he muttered, slamming his palm against the truck hood before climbing in.He scrubbed a hand down his face, as if he could scrape her straight out of his head.
But it was no use.
