Hellraiser (The Devil's Own #2)

  “On one condition.”

  His arms clench around my back. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

  “You’re mine, too. No one else’s. And I’m dead serious, Hella,” I begin. “If you so much as tilt that cocky fucking smirk at any other woman, I won’t just kill her, I’ll kill you too.”

  He laughs, his chest vibrating against mine. “Done. But for the record? I may not have done this before, this whole girlfriend thing,” he says, rolling his eyes, “but I’d never cheat on you, Melissa. Those were games—which you played as well, I’ll add.”

  “No more games,” I say sternly.

  “Ehhhh….” His eyes narrow. “Just switch up the game boards.”

  I laugh as he wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me further into him. I spread my legs on either side, straddling his body. The rock hard muscles under all his clothes tense with each movement. I run my finger down his square jawline and over his tattoos. “Do these mean anything?” I ask.

  He laughs. “What? You expecting me to be sentimental?” He sees the smile on my face and continues. “Aside from the fact that I’m free and alive? No.”

  I snort. “Why am I not surprised? So… none of them mean anything in particular?”

  “Nah, babe. They all just mean that I wanted them, so I fucking got ‘em.”

  “Fair enough.”

  His hands come down to my hips. He raises my shirt slightly, displaying my prominent hip bones where my only tattoos lie. “These mean something? And watch what you say, babe, ‘cause if they have anything to do with another man, I’ll fucking kill him, and then get Jada to cover them up with my initials.”

  I shake my head slowly with a small smile. “They just mean control. It was something I could control after… what happened.” His jaw clenches, his grip around my hips tightening. I bring my hand up to his cheek and run my thumb across it. “Hey.”

  He moves his face out of my hand, picking me up and placing me back on my bed. “They need to pay for that, baby. If you were my old lady, I’d eradicate them from this world and you wouldn’t have shit to say about it.”

  I pull my knees up to my chest. “I can’t talk about this again.”

  His eyes turn to stone before they soften slightly. “Back to why I brought you in here: you’re staying with me from now on.”

  “What?!” I crawl off the bed as I watch him walk into the closet and pull out my clothes. “I can’t! I don’t even know where you stay or who you live with or what your living situation is like.”

  He drops my clothes onto the bed and sighs. “I live alone, Melissa, and I stay on the property, toward the back by the stream that runs around the clubhouse. It’s hidden away and no one really knows about it except the brothers.”

  “What?” I’m astounded. “How big is the land here?”

  “Eight hundred acres,” he answers, picking up my clothes again.

  I gasp. “Holy fucking shit. That’s a lot of land.”

  He nods. “Yup. My house—well, log cabin—is at the far back of the land, just above a large stream. You can swim in it and shit. Beast’s dad had it built when Beast and I first came. He wanted us to have our own house away from the clubhouse when needed. When he died, the deed went under Beast’s name and I bought it off him once he purchased his house in town.”

  “Wow,” I whisper. “I can’t wait to see it.”

  “So that’s a yes? You’re bringing your stubborn ass with me? I don’t need to pull any caveman bullshit with you?”

  I laugh. “I’m coming.”

  “Thank FUCK for that.” He lets out a laugh and I throw the pillow at his face. He catches it just before it hits him and his eyes narrow. “Did you just—?” He glares at me mockingly before throwing the pillow to the side of the room and diving onto the bed, pushing my body back down onto the mattress with a squeal escaping me. “Come here!”

  I yell again when he blows raspberries into my neck and, just like that, our clothes disappear.

  Hella

  I hand Melissa my helmet as she walks out the front door of Jada’s house. She halts. “Okay, confession time.”

  I smirk. “It’s not rocket science, babe. Keep your legs away from the pipe, relax, and don’t let go of me.”

  She nods. “Okay.” She breathes in and out. “I can do this.”

  I chuckle again and she snatches the helmet out of my hands before hitting my arm with it. “Don’t laugh at me.”

  I swing my leg over the bike and continue to laugh as I watch her try to copy my movement.

  “Shut up, Ward.”

  Kick-starting it to life, I rev the engine a few times—my exhaust is modified a little, making it just that much louder than your average bike—before driving us out of Jada’s driveway and onto the main gravel road. We pass the house that Meadow and Melissa stayed at while they were here, continuing to the very end of the road until it narrows and turns to asphalt. I rev it again and gun it all the way there. I’ve been thinking about telling Melissa about what I know, and how I know about her, but truthfully, I don’t know how she will take it. When the time feels right, I’ll tell her.

  Melissa

  I swing my leg off Hella’s bike and my hand comes to my backside. “I sort of can’t feel my ass.” I move my head over my shoulder to check on it and Hella laughs. He takes my hand in his, but I pause before we start walking, peering up at the masterpiece beyond my eyes.

  I gasp. “Holy shit.”

  His hands tighten around mine. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

  I pull my hungry eyes off the house. It’s a two-story log house, which has floor-to-ceiling glass windows shaped in a triangle overlooking the stream directly in front of it. There’s a twin garage that sits by the front door, right where the asphalt ends.

  “If you’re thinking of marrying me and running away with all my money, you’d be mistaken,” he says with a smirk, watching my expression closely as I continue to take in the outside of the house. “I paid for it with cash. Seventy percent dirty, thirty percent clean. But it was built dirty. Blake owed Luce, so he paid his debt with this.”

  Blake is Phoebe’s brother and one of the guys I grew up knowing from the Sinful Souls MC. This doesn’t surprise me because truthfully, without sounding like a stereotypical bitch, I expected there had to be a story there. This cabin is a cozy mansion. The stream runs along a sandy area in front of the house with trees shading the bank. There’s a little bridge over the stream leading to the cabin, which we had to ride across. There are old ashes in a pile from bonfire sticks on the sand. The stream actually looks more like a waterhole that slimmed out to form a stream, carrying on down to wherever it led. There were little fairy lights that hung through the large tree that hung over the sandy area in the corner of the waterhole. Yeah, definitely a waterhole; this is far too large to be a stream.

  I look back to Hella with fresh eyes. “It’s beautiful here.”

  He smiles. “It’s not bad. The lights were Garret’s idea. He likes bringing his little shithead friends out here some weekends. I don’t mind as much. It gets him off the fucking iPad and out climbing trees and building shit.”

  I chuckle, pointing to the other side of the house. “Big enough field for rugby training too?”

  He sighs. “Probably. The entire outside is covered by grass with the stream right under it.”

  “The stream goes around the house?” I ask excitedly.

  “Yeah. You’d know if you’d hurry the fuck up.”

  “Sorry.”

  He tugs at my hand again, leading me to the front door. He swings open the door and I follow in behind him. “Wow!” I breathe. He closes the door behind me. Pointing to the stairs, he says, “It’s simple. Upstairs are the bedrooms, downstairs is the living room which overlooks the stream through the windows with an open-plan kitchen leading off of it, which then leads to the backyard through French binding doors.” He pauses to roll his eyes. “I had to add French or Meadow would kick my ass. And then the
re’s a game room down the back, behind the garage. It’s low-key with a little multimedia system and all that bullshit in there. I had them build that room for Garret.” He pauses again, watching me closely. I swallow down whatever the fuck was raising from inside me. It’s really nice here. Too nice. He continues. “Upstairs there are four bedrooms. One’s Garret’s. The shithead has his own shower and toilet. His reasoning?” He beams at me, walking toward the refrigerator and pulling out two bottles of water, handing one to me. “Was that he’d need it when he started bringing girls home. Don’t tell Jada, but I agreed; the little man needed his space away from Jada.” He stops, taking a pull of his water, his eyes watching me closely again. He places it back onto the counter. “Aside from all that, this is it.”

  A small snort escapes me. “This is not just ‘it’, Hella. This is beautiful, I had no idea.” I’m in awe and, knowing my luck, the evidence is smeared all over my face.

  He walks towards me, his hands coming under my armpits as he lifts me and places me on top of the black granite marble breakfast bar. He moves the stainless steel stools out of the way. “Have I freaked you out enough to have you run?” he asks, his eyebrow cocked. He runs his nose down the side of my temple and my legs widen for him. “Because if you did,” he whispers into my ear, his cocky smile pressing against my cheek, “I’d chase you.”

  That wasn’t a threat. That was a promise. I might just be in over my head with him. Why doesn’t that scare me? It should. If I was smart, it would scare me. Right now, I’m not smart, not when it comes to Hella.

  “I’m really stupid,” I whisper aloud.

  “Hmmm?” he asks, running his tongue over my collar bone. Arousal erupts between my thighs and my eyes roll to the back of my head.

  “Never mind.” I grip his hair between my fingers, pulling his head back before pressing my lips against his. I’m in control, right up until his lips land on mine, and then he takes control. He presses me back until my back hits the counter, then he crawls up to me. I open my legs wider for him until he’s resting in between, his cock pressing against my center. His head falls down to my face, his forehead resting against mine lightly and his chest heaving with each breath. Running my hands down his sides, his tongue draws out of his mouth as he runs it across my lips, his head tilting in the action.

  I grasp his knife holster. The pop of me unclipping it sounds off around our silence and he smiles against my lips. “You wanna play, baby? Okay, we’ll play.” His hand comes down to mine where he takes the knife off me, all while licking, sucking, massaging, and dominating my mouth with his. It isn’t too much; it isn’t enough. I need him to possess me, to corrupt me, to own me inside and out. Every single inch of me needs to be touched, fucked, and licked by him. I am Emily fucking Rose on crack and Braxton Ward is my seventh demon.

  The familiar cold metal presses against my hard nipple and I hiss, my eyes opening slowly to find Hella’s beaming blue eyes shaded by lust and darkened with need. He stretches my legs wider with his, his eyes searching mine the whole time.

  “Do you trust me?” he growls, watching me closely as the blade travels past my risen, hard nipples and down my ribcage. Each time it descends over one of my ribs, electricity sparks beneath my skin, traveling straight to the middle of my thighs. I swallow, my chest rising and falling, the silence between us prickling and filling with our electric energy of lust, passion, and obsessiveness.

  “In this context, yes,” I answer truthfully.

  His eyes narrow briefly. “I’m not touching that right now, but I will.”

  As quickly as the subject was raised, it’s forgotten. The blade continues down my ribs. His body lifts off of me as he peers up from under his thick lashes, his stare devilish and needy. He licks his bottom lip before running the tip of the blade over the area where the top of my thigh meets my center, and I throw my head back, taking in the sensations, the danger. Do I trust him with a blade down there? Not really, but I figure if he wants it to be fully operational, he won’t damage anything.

  Then his mouth covers my clit, cloaking it with its warm, slick blanket, and my back arches. The blunt side of the blade presses against my inner thigh as he opens my thighs wider. I prop onto my elbows, watching as his tongue slides over my clit, his bulky arms rippling under the pressure of keeping my legs open and the blade pressing against my inner thigh. I relax, dropping my legs open completely.

  “Shut your eyes, baby,” he whispers, the vibration of his deep voice pressing against my thigh.

  I drop back down onto my back, my eyes closing as the cold tip of the blade slides slowly over my pussy. He stops over my clit, circling it softly, and a spike of terror surges through me before being covered by a cloak of longing. My chest heaves as my clit tingles with arousal, and my walls contract with the knowledge of what’s about to come. Me—that’s what’s about to come. His finger presses inside of me as the tip of the blade continues its harrowing assault on my clit. “Brax,” I whisper out. “I’m—I’m…”

  His mouth drops down to my clit and the knife handle impels into me, my body squeezing around the handle as the peak of my climax reverberates through me. Explosions set off behind my closed lids and the deep hammering of my erratic heart rate thumps up the veins of my neck.

  Coming down from my spiral of euphoria, he pulls the knife handle out of me and I let out a laugh, my hand flying up to my mouth. Hella throws the blade to the ground and pulls me toward him, my body sliding across the bar.

  My hand comes up to his hard chest. “Wait.”

  He pauses, his head tilting, the evidence of my arousal glistening across his lips. His hair spikes up on top of his head, his jaw set square and his eyes hooded with hunger. It is one of the most erotic things I have ever seen. All the top ten of my most erotic things I have witnessed involve Hella.

  I jump off the island, my bare feet touching the wooden floors, my naked body in front of his bare chest and his unbuttoned jeans that hang right below that delicious V that travels down under his jeans. My mouth waters at the sight in front of me. My long hair falls over my shoulders and I drop to my knees, my eyes remaining sealed on his.

  A slow, sensual smirk appears on the corner of his mouth, his fist gripping around my hair. My hands come up the waist of his pants as I pull them down until his cock springs free. No briefs. Why am I not surprised?

  My tongue runs across my bottom lip before my teeth catch it. I tilt my head, examining his cock closely, a bead of pre-cum glistening from the tip, and I can’t help myself. My mouth wraps around the tip of his cock, my tongue circling around the warm softness as the light taste of salt and a mixture of soap hits my taste buds. I moan in approval, the vibrations of my moan pulsing over his shaft. My hand comes up to the base of his cock, my other cupping his balls as my head bobs up and down slowly, my tongue shielding my bottom teeth. A hiss escapes his mouth followed by a light groan, and my clit swells between my legs. I want this man. I want him so bad, my chest fills with empowerment.

  At this moment, I need to feel this big, unattainable, unbreakable, psychotic biker come undone.

  My head continues to bob as his shaft pulses lightly. A small trickle of cum slides down my throat. I pump him harder, my hand following my mouth, his rock solid dick molding around my hand as the tip of his cock is wrapped with my tongue. There’s no way I can fit all of him in my mouth—none at all. Something overcomes me; I need to feel him. I need to feel him come undone inside my mouth, brought to his knees by something so simple as my tongue. It’s liberating to know that I’m causing each groan that escapes him, each time his illuminated eyes roll to the back of his head, lost in his own ecstasy, and knowing I put him there. I’m addicted to this.

  Before I know it, hot cum shoots to the back of my throat and I swallow every drop of him. After waiting until he has emptied himself in my mouth, I slowly pull off and let out a light suction on the tip of his still hard cock, licking up each little drip that may have escaped.

  His eye
s peel open. I tuck my hair behind my ear. “I need to kill whoever taught you how to suck cock like that.”

  I roll my eyes. “Chill, it was porn.”

  “Porn?” he asks, surprised.

  “Well, let’s pretend it was.” I pat his chest softly.

  His eyes narrow as he pulls his jeans back on over his still-solid cock. I’m impressed that he’s still hard. Scared a little, but impressed nonetheless.

  I drop down and pull on my underwear followed by my skinny jeans and my tank top. After raking my hands through my hair and pulling it into a high ponytail, he takes my hand in his, tugging me toward the stairs. “Come. I’ll show you where you won’t be sleeping.”

  Melissa

  After my thorough tour around his house, we’re walking back through the kitchen doors. The sun’s setting over the trees with the temperature dropping slightly.

  “I need to go back to the clubhouse, check on shit. You wanna come or stay here?”

  I shake my head. “I’ll stay here.”

  He pulls me in under his arm, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head. “I won’t be long. Food’s in the kitchen, Netflix on TV.”

  I smile. “Go, I’ll be fine,” I answer, shooing him out the door.

  He leaves after another long kiss. As soon as the door closes, the emptiness he leaves is unsettling. I look around the house, wondering what I’m doing… what we’re doing. He hasn’t said anything about wanting to make me his old lady, so maybe I’m just the shiny new toy he wants to play with for a little while longer. Either way, it works for me—whatever this is.

  I walk up the stairs and into the bathroom, turning on the shower. After quickly washing up and drowning myself in his body wash, I wrap a towel around myself and walk out into the master bedroom. It’s pretty simple in here, not much to it. It lacks a woman’s touch, though. I don’t know if he’s ever brought a woman back here, aside from Jada and Meadow, but the thought is a little distressing.

  I look in his walk-in closet and clutch the towel around my chest, reaching for the folded shirts that sit above the hangers. Pulling one down, I slip it over my head before going back into the room and stepping into some lace underwear. On my way back out the door, I pause in front of the cheval mirror that’s sitting in the corner of the room. The white shirt hangs down to my thighs, the club emblem sitting proudly on the front. I roll up the sleeves so they’re not hanging to my elbows before frustration washes through me. I pull the hair tie off my wrist, bunching the shirt to my back so it shows a slit of my hips and flat stomach before tying a knot at the back. Much better. I realize I look like I just stepped out of “club whore magazine”, but there’s no one here except me and Hella.