Precarious

  “I was never goin’ to kill you, Ash.”

  The sincerity in his voice has me turning and staring at him. He meets my gaze, and an intense silence fills the room. Oh boy. “You weren’t?” I finally ask.

  “I don’t kill women unless it comes down to life or death, for me or someone I cared about. You weren’t one of them; I knew that. I wasn’t goin’ to let you take a bullet. I was just bein’ an asshole when I said the club would kill you.” He winks.

  I give him a weak smile. “Well, thanks.”

  “You trust me, don’t you?”

  I blink at him. “Pardon?”

  “You trust me. I can tell you do. You’re not scared, and you’ve only tried to run once.”

  I shrug. “I saw you in there; I never thought you would hurt me. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t terrified when your guys shot and killed the guards, but it didn’t take me long to realize I was not in any immediate danger.”

  “You’re in danger, though; you do know that, right?”

  “How so?”

  “There is a war brewin’, and while you’re with us you’re right in the middle of it.”

  “It would seem I wasn’t really that safe where I was, anyway.”

  “No. You were bein’ used.”

  “Do you really think they were using me?” I ask, turning towards him and crossing my legs.

  “Did you get asked constant questions about me? Did they ask you what I’d told you? What you’d learned?”

  I gasp. Tristan asked me every day if I’d gotten new information out of Krypt. He was setting me up because he knew I had a connection with the prisoners? He was trying to use that connection to get information. Then he went out of his way to put me in that truck for the transfer. My chest seizes at the realization that someone I cared about had been using me and because of that, I was nearly killed.

  “You okay?” Krypt asks.

  “I’m fine,” I say quickly, standing. “I’m going to shower.”

  “Ash,” he calls out, but I’m already halfway down the hall.

  The minute I get into my room, I press my hands to my head. I trusted Tristan; I’d considered him a friend, and all along he was just using me to feed information to a club on the outside. It was all a damned big set-up. Was any of it genuine? Did he care about me at all, or was he pretending with that, too?

  ~*~*~*~

  I spend longer than needed in the shower. I wash my hair, shave my legs, soap my skin, and then spend an hour brushing my brown locks out. I pull on some of the clothes left for me: a pair of short shorts and a turtle-neck sweater. I don’t even want to think about the fact that these could be some club-whore’s clothes.

  I head back out to Beau, and find him on the phone at the kitchen counter. My eyes widen when I take him in, and I stop, unable to take another step. He’s standing with his back to me, phone pressed to his ear. He’s not wearing a shirt, and all I can see is one hell of a muscled back and a massive—no, scratch that—gigantic tattoo.

  I squint, trying not to take in the way his jeans hang low on his hips, or the tiny dimples on his lower back. Instead, I focus on the tattoo. It’s a gorgeous piece of artwork of a girl. She’s only young in the picture, maybe ten. She’s got long, golden hair and a gorgeous, dimpled smile. Underneath the tattoo, there is one word: Lace.

  Like on his knuckles?

  Interesting.

  He must hear me, because he turns his body, taking me off-guard. I straighten and quickly force my eyes up to his. He narrows his, studying me. His body distracts me, far too quickly. Holy mother of God, it’s like he was built to be a statue. Rippled abs, a broad chest with a light scattering of hair that’s just barely there, biceps to make your mouth water and a V that you want to lick all the way down to his . . . oh God . . . I’m staring at his cock. I jerk my head up to meet his smirk. Shit; he caught me. I flush and turn my gaze away, staring at the painting on the wall.

  “Yeah, got it,” he mutters into the phone.

  Silence.

  “I said I fuckin’ got it, Maddox. I’ll sort it out as soon as I can.”

  He grunts.

  “Yeah, bye.”

  He hangs up the phone and takes a step towards me. I quickly focus back on him, and gasp when I realize just how close he is. He reaches out, taking a lock of my damp hair. He twirls it about, staring down at me like he wants to eat me alive.

  “Did you enjoy the view?”

  I snort. “What view?”

  He chuckles and tugs me closer. “I saw you starin’ at my cock. How long has it been since you’ve been fucked, sweetheart?”

  I shove him back. “You already know that answer,” I huff. “Go and jerk yourself. It’s clear you’re struggling.”

  He grins and winks at me, before stepping back and throwing his phone and wallet onto the counter. “I’m showerin’. Stay here. Don’t try and run or you’ll get eaten alive by some wild creature.”

  “You’re an asshole,” I say, leaning my hip against the counter.

  “Never said I wasn’t, babe,” he scoffs, turning and walking down the hall.

  I watch him go, and the minute I hear the shower start, I breathe a sigh of relief and turn, taking hold of his phone. Honestly . . . he just left it here. Maybe it’s a test? I don’t really care; I’m taking the bait. I unlock it and my heart flutters when I see it has no passcode. Silly, silly man.

  I dial Claire’s number.

  “Hello?” she answers after three rings.

  “Claire, it’s me.”

  “Ash!” she cries. “Oh my God, Ash!”

  “It’s me, I’m okay.”

  “We didn’t know,” she says, her voice shaky. “We’ve been looking for you. They found dead bodies and . . .” Her voice croaks before breaking off.

  “It’s okay,” I soothe. “I’m okay.”

  “Where are you? What happened?”

  “I’m . . . I can’t really say right now, but I just want you to know I’m safe. I needed you to hear that.”

  “I’ve been so worried,” she sobs. “I thought you were dead.”

  “I’m okay,” I say again. I feel like it’s all I can say.

  “Should I call the police?”

  “No,” I say quickly. “No, it’s fine. I . . . things are going down, and right now I don’t know what’s safest. Just sit back; I’m okay, and if I need to I will contact you again.”

  “Put. That. Fuckin’. Phone. Down.”

  Beau’s voice is like a whip, lashing across my nervous system and causing my hands to shake.

  “I have to go, I love you,” I whisper, hanging up the phone.

  I turn slowly to see him standing at the entryway, towel wrapped around his waist, his body still damp, hair dripping down his forehead. He obviously heard me, because it’s clear he’s just jumped out of the shower and hasn’t dried himself. I slowly put the phone down, placing it on the counter. Beau storms towards me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “I needed my friend to know I was okay. I didn’t call the police.”

  “You fuckin’ idiot,” he roars. “You didn’t need to call the police; all she needs to do is go to the cops and they’ll fuckin’ tap her phone, find where the call came from.”

  “I . . .”

  “You don’t fuckin’ think,” he barks. “Do you think I stole you just for any good reason? That I just thought ‘hey, this’ll be a fuckin’ hoot’. Fuck me, Ash. Shit is goin’ down, big shit that could put your life in danger. I have you here for your protection, when I really could have left you in that fuckin’ truck.”

  “Oh no you don’t,” I growl. “You aren’t protecting me. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s the only reason I’m here.”

  “Fuckin’ shit,” he snarls, crossing his big arms across his chest. “I pulled you in here because I wasn’t goin’ to let them put a bullet in you. I coulda left you there; don’t you fuckin’ forget that.”

  “My family need to know I’m okay,
do you understand me? She won’t call the cops. I made sure of it,” I yell, throwing my hands up.

  “Fuckin’ women,” he hisses, storming forward and taking the phone. He picks it up and dials.

  “Maddox, it’s me. We got a problem.”

  His jaw tics.

  “Ash made a fuckin’ call.”

  I hear Maddox blow up on the other end.

  “Yeah, it was my fuckin’ fault. I left the phone, it won’t happen again. She didn’t call the cops.”

  He sighs and closes his eyes. “I fuckin’ know. The phone will get smashed.”

  A deep breath.

  “I fuckin’ know,” he bellows. “She said her friend won’t ring the cops.”

  I shift, feeling a little guilty.

  “Well, I have no choice but to believe her.”

  He growls once more and then ends the call, spinning to me. “Get in your room, now.”

  “Not sure that’s a good idea,” I say, taking a step back.

  He lunges for me, catching hold of my wrist and hurling me so hard against his body he loses his towel. I squeal, but he keeps his arm pinned around me, pressing my thighs against his very naked body. His cock is resting on my belly. Even though I can’t feel the skin, I can feel its presence there.

  “Your . . . your . . .”

  “My fuckin’ cock is on your stomach. If you keep misbehaving I’ll find a better place for it.”

  Shit.

  “Get it off me,” I yell, squirming.

  It twitches against my belly.

  “Oh my God, stop it!”

  He snorts, spinning me around. He presses my back to his chest and shoves us forward, heading down towards the room. The moment we reach the door, he pushes me inside. I stumble forward, landing on my knees. I turn without thinking, and come face to face with his cock. His very large, thick, pierced cock.

  My eyes widen at the piercing. It’s a big barbell going right through the head of his cock—I mean in one side, out the other. That would have hurt like a bitch. When I realize I’m staring, I throw myself backwards with a squeal.

  “Jesus, do you want to take a fuckin’ picture?” he growls, finding some jeans and jerking them on. “That’s the second time you’ve looked at my cock.”

  “Well it was right in my face,” I yell. “It was kind of hard to look away.”

  “Just admit it,” he mumbles, lifting me up and throwing me on the bed. “You want it.”

  “Kiss my—”

  “With pleasure, babe.”

  Asshole.

  He leans over and ruffles through some drawers, and takes out a set of handcuffs. Oh hell no. I launch myself off the bed, but his hand wraps around my ankle before I get the chance to even get off. He jerks me backwards kicking and screaming, and then he flips me over effortlessly as if I’m merely laying here. He throws his body over mine.

  He jerks my hands above my head and wrestles the handcuffs on. “Get off me,” I screech, bringing my knee up to hit him, but he presses his body over mine so hard I can’t get it high enough.

  “You want to disobey me, you can stay attached to this bed.”

  “I didn’t disobey you,” I grunt, squirming. “You never told me I couldn’t use the phone.”

  “You’re a prisoner. When do prisoners ever get to use the phone?”

  “I’m not a prisoner,” I protest. “Prisoners don’t get finger fucked.”

  He laughs, the piece of shit.

  “Good point.”

  “Get off me,” I wail angrily.

  He shackles me down and then stares down at me, grey eyes on blue. “You comfortable?”

  “I hate you.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “Eat a big dick.”

  “Water? Food? A cock to shut that pretty mouth?”

  “You even so much as think about putting that thing near my mouth and I’ll—”

  He kisses me.

  He fucking kisses me.

  And I like it; I can’t lie. His lips are soft, his stubble scratchy in the best possible way against my cheeks. His tongue is forceful, yet sweet as hell. He kisses me until my mind is spinning and my heart is pounding. He keeps going until I’m wet for him, aching for him to slide between my legs and fuck me until I’m screaming his name.

  Then he pulls away.

  Asshole.

  Mega asshole.

  “Now, go to sleep and start behavin’.”

  He gets off me and leaves.

  Leaves.

  Jesus. It’s going to be a long night.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I was right. It is a super long night. I toss, turn, groan and ache. By the time morning sheds its light through the window, I’m more exhausted then I was the day before.

  Krypt comes in the room first thing, his hair ruffled with sleep, his jeans unbuttoned and hanging low enough that I can see the touch of hair poking out the top.

  “Sleep?” he murmurs, lifting his hands, causing his muscles to flex. He runs them through his hair and down over his face.

  “No, because I’m cuffed and sore.”

  He stares at me. “Why didn’t you yell out?”

  “Seriously?” I gape. “You put me here. I didn’t think I had a choice.”

  He sighs and shakes his head. “Come on, I’ll get you some food and then you can sleep some more.”

  He walks over and uncuffs me. The minute my hands are free, I shoot my fist out and I hit him in the side of his jaw. It clearly takes him by surprise because I get a decent, hard hit in. He roars and stumbles backwards, tripping on the rug and landing on his ass. I throw myself out of the bed, groaning in pain as my sore body moves.

  “That’s what you get for cuffing me, you big jerk-off,” I growl, stepping over him.

  “You’ll fuckin’ pay for that.”

  “Yeah, yeah, tell that to my fist.”

  I grin all the way down to the shower. I turn the water on and step underneath it. I groan and close my eyes, the warm water easing everything. Then suddenly, it turns freezing cold. I squeal and reach over to adjust the temperature, but it makes no difference. Then I realize that Krypt has obviously turned another tap on, probably a few, making the water run through cold.

  “You piece of shit!” I bellow. “You’ll pay!”

  “Tell that to the washing machine.” He laughs from down the hall.

  I leap out, turning the taps off quickly. I wrap a towel around myself and charge out and down the hall. I step into the kitchen and without thinking, I speed towards him. He’s grinning, his arms crossed over his chest. I don’t even look at the rug on the floor, and just my luck, I topple straight over when my foot gets caught.

  I land on the ground with a thump, and in my haste to get up my towel drops off. Literally, it just drops off. I squeal, grabbing for it, but Krypt is quicker. He reaches down and tugs it out, dangling it in front of me with a wicked laugh as I try to cover all my bits.

  “I’ll kill you,” I cry. “Kill, slowly, with a blunt knife. I’m going for your eyes first, I’m going to pop them out and squash them. Give me my towel.”

  “Nice ass, babe.” He chuckles.

  “Fuck you,” I bark. “You piece of shit.”

  I crawl towards him, hoping he can’t see what I have to offer.

  “Fuckin’ nice tat, too.”

  “I’ll stab you.”

  He kneels down, dangling the towel in front of me. “Best you reach up and get it.”

  I shove my hand out and I hit him clean in the nuts. He roars and topples backwards, and I take my chance to snatch my towel and turn to scurry away. He rolls, catching my wrist and pulling it out from underneath me. I land on my face with a cry. He throws himself towards me, taking my hands and flipping me over.

  Then his body is over mine.

  “Are you finished?” he breathes, staring down at me.

  “Not even close,” I growl.

  “Then we’ll stay here all fuckin’ day.”

  “Get o
ff me, you—”

  “Do I need to kiss you again?” he asks, cutting me off.

  “Fuck you.”

  “I can do that,” he says, lazily making circles with his finger on my cheek. “All it would take is a quick jerk of my jeans, and then my cock would be sinking deep inside you. And trust me, sweetheart, I fuckin’ want it there.”

  “You’re a pig.”

  He leans down, bringing his lips so close to my ear. I shiver. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it. You would have loved to know I stroked over my cock last night, thinkin’ of your sweet pussy. And baby, when I came, it felt so fuckin’ good.”

  Oh God, why does he have to arouse me so? The very idea of his big, thick hands stroking over his cock, his abs clenching, his muscles pulling, has everything inside me coming to life.

  “G-g-get used to your hand. It’s all you’ll get.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  His lips brush over my ear and I helplessly whimper.

  “I think you’d like me to fuck you right now.”

  “You’re wrong about that,” I groan as he rocks his hips, pressing his jean-clad cock against my exposed pussy.

  “Think I can make you come like this?”

  “Don’t even try it.”

  God, I sound so breathy. Like I’m not even trying to fight him off. He rocks his hips again, pressing against my core, causing my clit to jerk to life. I wish I could protest, but I can’t fight the bolts of pleasure shooting through my body. He tucks his arm under my head and brings my lips up to his, gently brushing over them.

  “I think I can make you come. I think I can make these pretty lips part for me.”

  I keep my lips pressed together, even though his are softly resting against mine. He keeps rocking his hips, the friction of his jeans causing enough pressure for my clit to begin that dull ache that I know will lead to extremely explosive things. He rubs his lips over mine.

  “Come on, baby, open up. Let me kiss you.”

  I shake my head, keeping my lips pressed together. He keeps stroking his hips against mine, and the friction suddenly becomes too much. I squirm, trying to escape him. He’s surrounding me, his warm body is crushed against mine, and his cock is taking me to the edge without even touching me.

  “Yes, come,” he growls.