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She’s wrong.
This is a test.
A test of my self-control.
Can I contain the wickedness inside me? Will I find the strength to release her when her complexion turns too blue?
Her skin is purple under the pressure of my fingers, and my sweat weeps into the pores of her skin as I pound at her pussy and growl like a savage.
She struggles a little, tries to free herself from my hold, but the panic in her eyes only makes me hold on tighter.
“It’s okay, baby,” she splutters, her fingers grasping around the wrist of the hand I’m stealing her breath with. She’s urging me on like I need her fuckin’ reassurance. But I’m the one in control here.
My hips smash into hers, and a sweet sound of agonized pleasure releases from her pink stained lips. Her eyes lose their determination, becoming vacant as they roll back.
It’s everything I need.
In these moments, I decide if they live or if they die. I have the ultimate power. I’m the dictator. I am in con-fuckin’-trol. Every muscle in my body tenses, my cock throbbing to the point of pain as I fill the rubber that I’m fucking inside her. I waste no more time, quickly releasing the hold I’ve got on her and taking a step back. Her limp body slumps into a broken heap on the floor. She’s a mess, but she’s breathing, she’s alive.
“Get out,” I yell at her, stumbling backward. I need more space between us. My throat’s already tightening up and my stomach’s starting to cramp.
Somehow, the girl manages to stand, her shaky legs making her stumble toward the chair to snatch up her dress. When she starts to pull it over her head, I decide she isn’t moving as fast as I need her to.
“Out,” I roar, marching for the door and swinging it open. She’s still fumbling with the zip on her dress when I force her out, and she tumbles into the hall.
The room shakes when I slam the door shut, and I only just make it to the basin in the corner of the room before I start spilling my guts up. I can still feel her on my skin, my cock still feels confined by her, even after I rip off the fuckin’ condom. I stink of her cheap perfume, it's all too fuckin’ much, and I retch over the basin again until there’s nothing left to come up.
My skin itches and my head is throbbing because all I hear is his damn voice inside me. I want to tear it out.
I feel blood on my hands, blood that I know isn’t really there. Still, it soaks through my skin, leaving a permanent stain on my flesh. It won’t wash away, no matter how hard I scrub at it. Because he’s inside me, that last scrap of his existence is rooted inside my soul.
As long as I’m alive I’ll never be rid of him, and he thrives on my weakness.
The hard thumping in my chest beats to the rhythm of the pounding in my head, and the screeching inside my ears only gets louder. I manage to crawl over to the shower, reaching up to hit the facet. I don’t care if the water’s hot or cold, just as long as it washes the girl off my body. And that's where I remain, sitting on the floor, with my back resting against the tiles and my hands covering my ears. The water cleansing me while I wait for the calm…
“I’m not him… I am not fuckin’ him.”
“I was wondering when you were gonna show your face,” I snap at Skid when he steps inside the office.
“Okay, okay go easy on me.” Perching his ass on the edge of the desk, he picks up the spanner that I’ve just slammed down in a temper and twists it around in his huge hand. I slouch back in the worn-leather office chair and cross my arms over my chest, waiting for an explanation.
Skid’s usually all about the fuckin’ words, but since his bastard brother took his wife's life, he seems to be all out of them.
“You back for good now?” I ask with a bite of sarcasm. I’ve heard whispers around the yard that Prez has asked Brax to take his place as Road Captain. The fact that Nyx got hitched to Prez’s daughter yesterday is the only reason Skid’s come home. I’m not about to pressure the guy into sticking around. Even if he is the only good thing I got.
“I can’t, Rogue.” His voice is weak, and I hate it. Then he shakes his head like he’s disappointed in himself, and it makes me even angrier at Chop. I do my best to hide my disappointment, last thing I want is Skid beating himself up over hurting my fuckin’ feelings, especially since I don’t have any.
“And what about this place?” My eyes roam around the garage office, this place used to mean so much to Skid, and I know how important it is to the club.
His eyes glass over as they scan the space around us, the sight seems to cause him physical pain.
“Spoke to Prez, him and Jess are putting a schedule together, they’ll get you all the help you need. Thorne’s taking care of the books, he’ll make sure you get more than your fair share for what you're putting in around here.”
I wish he’d have the guts to make eye contact with me, maybe then I might be able to figure out what’s going on in his head.
“I thought I might be able to stay here, I even tried moving on, but I ended up making shit worse on myself,” he confesses.
“You in trouble, Skid?” I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I may be small, I may be female, but I’d still rip the throat out of any fucker who’s causing him to leave me.
