I shake my head.
“Look at me.” His hands trap my face, his fingers on my cheeks and forehead, thumbs under my jaw. “Don’t even think about closing your eyes.” He licks away my tears and buries himself deeper inside me, reaching every part of me. “I want to watch your face while I fuck you. I want you to see what you do to me.”
I’m not sure I understand, but it doesn’t matter. He has me. I can’t do anything except lie there with him looking into my soul while he takes me, watching my spirit as it’s slowly corrupted and devoured by him.
Spider thrusts slowly but roughly in and out of me, each stroke obviously meant to remind me that I am his. That he is all there is, and I have no power here.
His roughness should hurt, but it doesn’t. My sex clenches around him, and the stretch feels amazing. Maybe it’s because I’m so wet, but the harder he pounds, the more I want him.
The muscles in his face flex every time he thrusts into me. There’s no compassion in him, no warmth. He’s the conqueror again, and I love it.
I grit my teeth and say nothing. Staring into the beast’s eyes, but giving nothing more. I try to shut my body down, but inevitably, my need intensifies until my hips rock, and then find his rhythm, beating in time with his.
Neither of us says a word; the room fills with our breaths and our grunts and the sound of flesh slapping flesh. I grip the quilt under me, and he pounds faster.
And that’s when I understand why he wanted me looking at him while he took me. That’s when I see it in his eyes, the animal that’s feeding off of my humiliation, off of the pain of knowing that he’s slowly and utterly destroying me.
Good God, this is hot.
He speeds up his pace, and I ride with him, my hips bucking to meet his thrusts. The tide takes me then. Once more, the euphoria washes over me and I fly apart, head tossing back on a cry.
“Mmm. Yeah, that’s it. Come nice and hard for me.” Spider bites my ear hard, and I cry out, thrashing wildly under another wave. Then he hammers into me three more times, growls in release, and spills into me.
“See?” His voice is laced with mocking satisfaction in my ear. “Told you. I can make you come whenever the fuck I want.”
And that’s when the indelible truth sinks in. He really does own me.
Like it or not, he has me wholly and completely, and unless he kills me, I’m never, ever getting away from him.
14
Trust
A week after the night of the party, I finish cleaning up the last room in the clubhouse and head back out to the barroom. I’d promised myself I’d ask him today. I can’t keep putting it off.
Spider’s sitting in front of the TV with Striker, Dragon, and a bunch of the other guys. As soon as I see him, my stomach squirms with unease.
After being with him for ten days, I shouldn’t be this nervous talking to him. But Spider has never been the most approachable man, and no matter how often I talk to him, I’m still a bundle of nerves. Besides, things never go well when I ask for anything. Every time I’ve gone to him for something, he’s found a way to make me wish I hadn’t asked.
As of the day Spider crashed through my life, I no longer work at The Devil’s Den or have a job of any kind. I help out serving drinks or cleaning here, but it’s not a job. Or at least Spider makes sure to keep it from feeling like one.
In the past week, he’s never let me leave the clubhouse once. Hardly anyone will speak to me here unless they have to. Dee and Monica aren’t the only ones giving me the cold shoulder. Tequila is the only one that doesn’t speak to me as if I’m pond scum.
Most importantly, there’s no hope of my ever getting out of here or finding Sarah if I’m never allowed to leave.
Keeping my goal of escape firmly in my mind at all times, I’ve played the role as best I could. I’ve waited and watched and learned. Now, today, I hope it will pay off.
Making my way over to the couches, I press my hands over my belly, but it doesn’t calm the angry bevy of bats fluttering there.
“Problem, Wildcat?” Spider asks, flicking his gaze at my hands.
I mentally blow out a breath and keep my hands where they are, letting the nervousness I know he can see become part of the role. Hoping it looks as if I’m anxious about asking for a favor that’s important to me, rather than that I’m terrified he’ll see right through my request.
It is important to me. My freedom is at stake, and I hope I’m wrong, but I’m sure Sarah’s is too if I don’t find her.
“No. I mean, not really. Spider, can I ask you something?”
“You just did.” His eyes sparkle.
Striker snorts. Dragon watches me closely, swirling the ice in his whiskey glass.
If I weren’t so anxious, I’d have laughed. I force a smile I know looks painful.
Spider sets down his empty glass on the coffee table, then sits back, waiting.
I bite my lip and chicken out for the moment. “You want another one of those?” I nod to the glass.
“In a minute.” He points his finger to the floor at his feet.
Inwardly, I roll my eyes, mortification creeping up my cheeks, aware that every man sitting with him has his eyes on me. Watching to see what I’ll do.
He always does this. Since the party, every time I talk to him, if it’s possible for him to do it, he has me do the same thing—kneel at his feet as if I’m some kind of personal slave.
That’s another reason I have to ask him what I’ve come to ask. This past week, if I’m not sleeping or eating or in his bed, I’m on my knees. Usually with his fist in my hair and my mouth full of…well…him. I need more than that. I need to be more than just his toy.
Spider is sitting at the left side of the couch, and with the table in front of him, I can’t kneel right there, so I do the next best thing. Forcing my expression to one of acceptance, I carefully kneel on the floor at the arm of the couch. I set my hands together on the armrest and force my eyes to stay on his.
“She looks good like that, Spider,” Dragon says.
My cheeks feel like they’re going to melt off. Dragon hardly says boo to me most of the time. The MC president usually ignores me completely. The few times he hasn’t, he’s looked down his nose or shaken his head at me.
I’ve long since gotten the message. He doesn’t like me. He sees me as someone who’s gone against his club, and tolerates me only because of Spider. I’m not sure what to make of the rare compliment—if you can call it that.
Spider’s mouth turns up at Dragon’s comment before he returns his eyes to me. Waiting again.
I clear my throat. Tightening my hands on the couch arm to stop their shaking.
“Spider, let me have a job.”
It’s a statement, but it’s laden with what I hope is imploring respect.
He leans in a little. “You have a job.”
I furrow my brow, at first thinking he’s talking about my serving drinks here. Then I notice the heavy silence from the men and the mocking light in Spider’s eyes, and I realize what he’s getting at.
It takes all my effort not to grind my teeth.
I lick my lips, staring at the leather arm of the couch. I detest how low and small my voice sounds when I speak. “I need more than just…pleasing you.”