Then he collapses onto me with a groan, his chest heaving.
Did I just have my first orgasm? I can barely form a coherent thought, my mind floating as if I’m high. I’ve never been high, but Deacon Harmon described it, and I imagine this is what he meant when he said it feels like you’re floating in a euphoric haze.
The euphoria dissipates, and as soon as it does, self-loathing bites into me at what I’ve just done. Were I in the Colony, I’d be whipped, paraded naked through the streets and branded a whore, and then put in isolation for months. I lie here, panting and trapped under his powerful frame, sticky with his seed, my own sin tearing through me with claws of steel.
Spider kisses my ear. “Fuck. That was nice.”
My blood boils at his indifference to his own actions. “Get off me,” I snarl.
He nips my shoulder.
“Get. Off. Of. Me.”
Swatting my thigh, he swings off, but I know he didn’t do it because I told him to.
Taking his time, he undoes the ropes on my wrists. Then he bends and drops a kiss on the tip of my nose. “You were fucking perfect.”
As soon as he lifts his head, I spit in his face.
His brow lifts in mild surprise. Instead of getting mad the way I expect him to, he swipes the spit off of his cheek and smears it on my face. Then he backs up. “Get up.”
I don’t move.
Spider seizes my nape and hauls me to my feet. “My patience has its limits. Push too far, and you’ll eat a bullet.”
His fingers pinch painfully. I pant and nod, anything to make him let go. He grabs the collar from the bed where he left it and fastens it around my neck. Then he takes up the chain still hanging from the bedpost and clips it onto the collar. He releases me.
“Turn around.”
Oh, no. Now what?
Not about to push him again, I turn my back to him, my heart speeding up.
“What are you going to do to me?”
His hot breath fans my ear. “No one leaves me. I’m gonna teach you what happens when my woman forgets who she belongs to. “Put your hands behind your back.”
12
Freak
It’s not a surprise that my little thief doesn’t obey the order I gave her.
Good. I love the fight in her, and I’ll love teaching her respect just as much.
“Hands,” I repeat in a slow dangerous voice that always snaps her back.
Her shoulders sink and her head rolls back. She clasps her hands behind her. They’re shaking.
Letting her fear burn through me like a hit of heroin, I yank the rope off the bed knob and tie it around her wrists, then press myself into her until she can feel my cock jabbing at her ass.
“Scared, Wildcat?”
“You know I am,” she snaps.
I smile. Her nerves are starting to fray.
Brushing her hair away from her nape, I kiss her shoulder.
At the small of her back, her fists clench.
She hates me. Smart girl. Any woman who wants me is only looking for a world of pain.
I turn her to face me, then grab a towel from the bathroom. I clean myself off, wiping away my come.
“Let me wipe off.” She walks toward me, arms straining against the ropes that keep her from grabbing the towel from me.
“No. I like seeing my come on you.” I can see the smear it’s left behind on her skin, nearly dry.
She grits her teeth, but says nothing.
I throw on my clothes. Then I march her to the door.
“Wait, you want me to go out there naked? Spider, no. I—”
Ignoring her, I step out into the hall, leaving her no choice but to back up out of the room. Again, her head falls back. Her eyes close, and I can see her struggling to rein in her emotions.
While I lock my door, Striker, Reaper and Mort pass by us with a few of the other men.
Stephanie sees them and her cheeks turn crimson. She turns her head, trying to hide from their stares. All of them take in the view with appreciation. Mort adjusts his junk and clears his throat.
Possession and triumph create a sweet mixture in my blood and I pull Stephanie against me. Eat your hearts out, boys.
“You’re such a freak, Spidy,” Striker says.
“You know it.” I pocket my keys and smile at Stephanie’s mortified glare.
“Diesel’s party has started,” Mort says. “You going?”
“That’s where we’re headed.”
Stephanie’s head snaps up, her gorgeous dark eyes wide with panic. “Wait, we’re going to a party?” She yanks on the chain I’m holding in my fist. “No way. I am not going out there buck naked for all to see.”
So much for controlling her emotions.
I grip the back of her neck and start down the hall. “Yes, you are. Don’t make it worse on yourself. You tried to escape. You’re lucky I haven’t put a bullet in your skull.”
Her shoulders sag in defeat.
Holding her bound wrists and keeping her in front of me, I stride into the bar and every eye turns on us. On her. Some of the men whistle and others whoop at me, cheering me on for my prize.
“I can’t believe you,” she hisses. “You’re evil. Pure evil.”
“You have no idea.” I steer her for the back hall that leads past the chapel.
A few of the men get up and follow us as I frog march her down another hall that leads to the back door of the clubhouse.
Dozens of men’s voices filter from outside. Stephanie tenses, stepping back from the door. “You have to be kidding me.”
“Nope. I want everyone to see what belongs to me.”
She looks at me and her face blanches. “You’re going to parade me out there in front of all of them?”
Laughter ripples through the men gathered at my back.
“Yes.”
She looks like she wants to claw my eyes out, and my dick leaps to attention.
“You got yourself the freakiest guy in the house, girl,” Striker says, opening the door for me. “We love watching him do this.”
She jerks as if slapped. “Wait, you’ve done this before? To another girl?”
“Why? Jealous?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
I squeeze the back of her neck. She’s so jealous.
As soon as we get outside, she gasps. “Oh, heaven help me.”
Night has fallen, but there’s enough light from the back of the clubhouse that I know she can see everything. More than two dozen men and a handful of women stare. Cap is over by a barbeque frying burgers and he drops one with a splat. Donnie’s beer spills out of his mug, and he doesn’t even seem to notice.
Some of the men make catcalls. Pip’s jaw falls until Monica smacks him on the shoulder. He clears his throat with a grin.
Yeah, this is going to be fun.
“Oh, this is so not happening,” Stephanie says, trying to shove past me.
I whirl her around to face the hill a hundred feet from the back of the clubhouse and clamp a hand on her shoulder. “Walk or be dragged.”
She freezes, clearly fighting some inner battle.
I’m not showing her off or humiliating her just for fun. After her attempt to run off, the boys need to see that I know how to keep my women in line. She’s my prisoner. A man like me can’t be soft. This is club justice. It’s just that instead of letting the guys pull a train on her like some of them would do with a woman who went against the club and who isn’t an old lady, I choose to exact my price in a way that suits me. Besides, there’s no way I’m letting another man get his hands on her. Not even my brothers.