“You keeping this?” he asked, looking at the picture.
“Yes,” she replied. “I don’t want to forget, at least not yet.”
He dropped the picture, disgusted, watching as she moved to her dresser. Every time she reached up, he caught flashes of her tiny little waist, swelling down into hips built to cradle his. Her figure was the ideal combination of small and curvy, every part adding up to perfection.
Horse wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. He needed a taste, just a taste. Now. He got up and stood behind her, taking her hips and pulling them back into his. Horse rubbed his c**k against her butt, so aroused it caused him physical pain. He leaned into her, smelling her hair. Impossibly, his dick got harder.
This woman was going to kill him.
“I love how your hair smells,” he muttered. He wondered what it would feel like trailing across his chest or wrapped around his cock. Better put that one on the list too.
“I have ten minutes left,” she said, her voice full of strain. “Please.”
That pissed him off, spinning him out of control. How much more of this did he have to take? She belonged to him now, he’d paid fifty f**king thousand dollars for her. Hell, he’d even gone to the mat to save her worthless brother from the club. He’d offered her everything he had and she’d thrown it back in his face.
Horse let go of her hip, reaching up to grab that hair and twisting her head around to the side. He covered it with his mouth, thrusting his tongue into her mouth like he wanted to thrust his c**k down into her cunt—hard and fast, without mercy. She moaned, collapsing against him, and he slid his other hand down her stomach to her pants, ripping them open. Then his fingers plunged into her pu**y. He pulled back, wanting to see her face, watching as her breath came faster and she flushed with desire and need. The sight gave him savage satisfaction.
Marie was his property now.
“This pu**y,” Horse said, fingering her roughly. “This pu**y is mine. You are mine. I’ll f**k you when and where I want, and you can either take it or get the f**k out. Are we clear?”
”Yes,” Marie whispered, shivering as her eyes dilated. He felt how close she was to release, the flesh between her legs tightening. He took her mouth one more time, punishing her with his tongue and his fingers, dancing right on the edge. She thrust her hips at him and he ended the kiss, dropping his lips to her neck, licking and sucking, wanting to mark her for everyone to see.
He bit her and she moaned. Loud.
Gloating, Horse pulled his hand out of her pants and stepped back. His c**k was like a pillar of granite and his heart beat so hard he could feel it pounding in his forehead, but he’d sent her a message about who was in charge. He lifted his fingers, slowly licking off her sweet juices.
“Don’t care how good you taste, you don’t call the shots,” he whispered. “We clear?”
She nodded, flushed and needy, still quivering.
“Your rules,” she whispered back. “Or I leave. And what happens if I do?”
He forced his features to stay smooth.
“To you? Nothing,” he said, but he knew better. If she left him, he’d hunt her down and drag her back home by the hair if he had to. “You’re with me of your own free will. But the club has to be paid in blood, Marie, not even I control that. Don’t forget.”
He pushed her gently out of the way as he reached into the lingerie drawer, pulling out panties, bras and a teddy. He thought about Gary’s hands on her, stripping these scraps of lace off her perfect body, and wanted to rip them apart with his bare hands. Instead he tossed them on the floor.
“You won’t need these.”
He saw something tucked in the back, black fabric with Reaper colors. What the hell? He reached in, grabbing it. It was his t-shirt, he realized, with something wrapped inside it. She’d kept it. He pulled the bundle out and turned to Marie.
She blushed, holding out a hand.
Horse shook his head slowly and started unrolling. What he saw nearly sent his c**k punching through his jeans. It was a vibrator, and a beast at that. Not too long, but it split into two parts, one clearly designed to go inside and stimulate a woman’s G-spot, the other for her clit.
Marie kept her toy wrapped in his t-shirt.
Oh yeah. He owned her now.
“Pack the shit and the toy,” he said, barely able to get the words out. What would she look like, using that thing on herself? He couldn’t wait to find out.
She threw everything into her backpack and zipped it shut, throwing it over her shoulder.
“That it?” he asked. “You want anything else from the living room or kitchen? It won’t be here if you try to come back.” It’ll be burned to a crisp, along with any evidence your brother might have hidden here.
Marie shook her head, blushing fiercely. He leaned in close, whispering in her ear, “Next time you want to play with your pretty pink toy, you do it while I’m watching. If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you wear the tee. Got it?”
Marie nodded. Horse took her arm and pulled her through the living room, past Jeff and his brother Reapers, out to his bike.
The ride to Coeur d’Alene surprised me.
For one, it seemed to take forever because riding on the bike was work. I had to hold on and pay attention the whole way and given all I’d gone through that day, it wiped me out.
On the positive side, I didn’t have to talk to Horse.
We stopped twice at rest areas so I could pee and Horse could make phone calls. I watched him, feeling naked without my phone. They’d taken it from me, along with my car keys, and I didn’t get the impression I’d be getting it back. Horse didn’t tell me what the calls were about and I didn’t ask. I also didn’t know where the other Reapers were or how my brother was doing. All I cared about was staying upright on the bike.
By the time we pulled off the freeway in Coeur d’Alene it was dark. I didn’t pay attention to where we went or our route. I did notice that we drove through several populated neighborhoods near a very big lake before turning off on a narrow road through the woods. Buildings grew sparse. Horse pulled up to an old farmhouse, complete with quaint-looking outbuildings and a big red barn.
So not what I expected from a biker.
Horse cut the engine and I got off stiffly, trying to stretch.
“Is this your place?”
“Bought it three years ago,” he replied, walking past me toward the wide, covered porch, which had a swing, for God’s sake. Like something on a country postcard. It wasn’t fancy or big, but it was very well cared for and I suspected it had been painted within the last year or so.