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“You like to watch?” he asks. I shake my head. I’ve never in my life watched anyone having sex before. So what the hell am I doing now?
“I bet if I touched your pussy, you’d be soaked.” Now I squirm on the bed. He can’t do that. He can’t touch me. He must see the look in my eye as he shakes his head, letting me know he wouldn’t do it. He isn’t going to touch me. The girl has his cock in her hand, stroking it before sucking it into her mouth. He moans as she sucks harder and faster. Her head bobs, and I can’t help but keep my eyes glued to the scene before me. What am I doing? Am I sick? I shouldn’t want to see this, yet I can’t look away.
“Come on, Ginger,” he growls as she bobs her head faster. Before I know what’s happening, he pulls his cock from her mouth and turns toward me. His cock is hard and angry in his hand as he jerks it a few times. His cum sprays from the tip, hitting my face. Hot spurts keep coming before he steps closer. He uses the tip of his cock to paint my lips with his seed before he steps back and looks at me.
“Get off the floor, Ginger.” The girl climbs off the floor obediently and stands next to him, waiting on his next command, but he keeps his eyes on me instead of looking at her.
“Fuck you look sexy as hell covered in me.” His words cause my stomach to heat and my thighs to clench.
“Get out, Ginger,” he says. The girl opens her mouth to protest, but I see how he cuts his eyes at her. She doesn’t argue. Instead, she grabs her things and walks out of the room naked.
The guy, Tarek, looms over me. His eyes move over my clothed body before returning to my face. He reaches for me, running his fingers through the mess he made on my face.
“You should taste it,” he whispers. It doesn’t sound like he’s asking me, rather demanding I taste him. I can feel my body quiver before his fingers glide over my lips. Slowly I part them, and he slips them inside. I can taste him on my tongue. He begins to pump his finger in and out of my mouth until I close my lips around it. Then he growls low in his throat and moves it faster. Before I know it, he pulls it free with an audible pop. My eyes find his, and I can see heat in them.
“If only you’d tell me what I wanted to know, LaLa. This could all be so much easier.” He keeps his tone low.
“I don’t know what you want.”
“I want to know what you did.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I tell him as my heart beats faster.
“You did, LaLa. You tried to kill yourself. It could be much easier if you just told me what I want to know.”
“What do you want with me?” I ask instead of answering him. I won’t give him the answers he wants. I won’t tell him anything because I think he already knows. He has to.
“I couldn’t stand to see you like that. So lifeless. You just laid there, not movin’.”
“Why do you care?” His eyebrows lift as he looks at me.
“That’s a loaded question you won’t get an answer to, LaLa.”
“Then why should I answer you?” I ask.
“I’m the only thing keepin’ you alive right now.”
“I didn’t ask you to!” I scream this time. He smirks and steps closer to my head, leaning down and running his fingers through my matted hair.
“I know you didn’t. But you’re here now, and that isn’t gonna change any time soon. Get used to it, LaLa.”
“Fuck you,” I snarl at him. He can’t keep me here, can’t keep me hostage. “They’ll come for me. And then what? What are you going to do?” If he isn’t a part of this mess, he’s still on the losing end.
“Who will?” he asks cocking his head to the side to study me. “Who will come for you?”
“You know who.” He has to. They had to have sent him out to find me. Otherwise, what the hell is all this? What’s this about? Why am I cuffed to his bed?
“I wish I did know, LaLa. You aren’t very forthcomin’ with information, now are you?” He steps back and grabs his clothes off the floor, giving me a nice view of his tattooed ass. I take him in while he dresses. Tattoos all over his body, the way he talks, the way he moves. Something isn’t right, and then I see him grab the cut off the back of the chair and slide it up his arms. No. This can’t be right. They would never deal with an MC.
“What is that?” I ask, nodding toward the cut, although I already know what it is.
“Why do you care?”
“You’re not one of them,” I whisper. He isn’t one of them and doesn’t know who I am. But how?
“One of who, darlin’?” I shake my head from side to side. This isn’t right. This can’t be.
“I need out of here,” I tell him. I look back at him as he pulls a cigarette from his pack and lights it up. My eyes are nearly pleading with him.
