Page 111 of Kneeling to Candy

Deep down, I don’t want to hide it—not anymore. This beautifully powerful woman makes me not want to care what others think.

Oddly, Candy frees me by taking control over me, accepting me like I accept all of her.

For once, I ignore the eyes on us, relaxing in her hold as she takes her fill of me. It’s liberating.

She pulls back, taking my bottom lip with her between her teeth until she releases me. My lips tingle pleasantly from the ghost of her teeth, aching for more. It takes all my restraint not to yank her back to me. By the way she snickers at my disgruntled expression, she’s aware of the effect she has on me. And I love that she loves torturing me as I sit on the edge of my seat, eagerly waiting for her instructions.

“How about we head back to our room? Fucking like rabbits sounds like fun.” She says nothing else as she stands, hooking her finger at me to follow.

Like the horny, entranced man I am, I’m right on her heels, allowing her to slip her slender fingers into my belt to pull me along—her hound to order and control. And I don’t care about the eyes on our backs as she leads me to our suite to play with me as she wants.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CANDY

When Captain Travis Warren and his retired SEAL team companions arrive to watch over the rest of our MC family, we say our goodbyes and hit the road. The four-hour drive to Aspen from Fort Collins is quiet for me as I accept coming face-to-face with Duffy tomorrow evening.

Confronting your abuser is a lot for any sexual assault survivor. For me, it’ll be the performance of my lifetime, smiling in the face of evil for the greater good of the mission.

Good thing I’m one hell of an actress. Life as a sex worker was hard, but it taught me well—fake it until you make it.

Mentally exhausted, I rest my head against Butch’s shoulder where we sit in the back seat of one of the Mercy Ravens armored Tahoe SUVs. Tank drives with Ziggy sitting shotgun, filling the void with small talk and playing indie rock low on the radio. From my view, looking out the tinted windows, the world races by outside in endless gray streaks, with a cloud-covered sky to fit the somber mood.

Though my nerves are high, I’ll never admit it, not with the mission on the horizon. Still, I yearn to confide in someone what I’m feeling, preferably to the man who’s claimed me. Butch is the only one I trust wholeheartedly never to judge me. Though I worry my thoughts would concern him, and I don’t wish to add any more anxiety to his plate.

Unable to suppress my fears from surfacing, an involuntary shiver runs through my body, causing my skin to break out in goosebumps. Possibly sensing my unease, Butch’s arm slightly constricts around me, like he’s trying to squeeze my apprehension out of my pores. It may not be words of comfort, but it’s a sign of comfort, one I appreciate from my quiet biker.

It’s funny how I’ve grown accustomed to Butch’s silent ways, incorporating his method of communication for my use, too. There are many ways to convey a message. Gentle touches, a deep gaze, a quirk of the lips are a few of the many ways I like to speak to Butch. I kind of enjoy showing him rather than telling him what it is I’m feeling. Actions tend to speak louder than words.

However, at this moment I need to speak my feelings out. I blame therapy for my newfound desire to express my emotions. I’m not sure if Butch and I will get a free moment alone for me to share my thoughts. Instead, I sink deeper into his embrace, absorbing all the comfort I can.

The closer we get to our destination, the more I want to jump out of my skin, almost like my flight-or-fight response was given an adrenaline shot. I deal with my apprehension the way I know best—I bury it. Before therapy, I buried shit deep. Now, it’s surface level at best, like I subconsciously realize I can’t deal with this problem like I did before. I’ll need to talk or write my thoughts out before the mission, because tomorrow I need to be on my game.

It’s close to dusk when the crew arrives in Aspen. We’re staying at one of Piero’s properties he uses for entertaining business clients—a chalet in the mountains close to our destination tomorrow. The opulence of the property has me rolling my eyes. Chalet, my ass. The place could be an upscale timber mountain lodge resort. It’s too big to be considered anything less, especially when it houses our entire crew and all of Piero’s men comfortably.

Perks of being a mafia don, I guess.

Inside, we’re greeted by the caretakers of the estate, directing us to the dining hall, where a catered meal awaits us. The spread is vast and smells amazing. The guys waste no time diving in. All of it is lovely, but with my stomach acids rolling with nerves, eating is the furthest thing from my mind.

“Let’s grab our room for the night,” Butch suggests in a rough murmur.

The last thing I want is for my exterior to crack in front of others. As uneasy as I am, it could happen. If I’m going to have a mental breakdown, I’d prefer to do it in private. I’m all too keen to step away from everyone else, allowing Butch to guide me with his hand at the small of my back out of the dining hall.

We find a room on the second floor at the far end of the east wing. Butch hauls our bags into the room as I follow behind him, my steps heavy like my feelings.

The sleeping quarters are as ridiculously lavish as the rest of the estate, decorated in ivory and gold tones. The bed alone looks like something made for royalty, layered in rich fabrics and a mountain of goose down pillows. It’s inviting as hell, and I can’t enjoy it when my anxiety has my stomach rising in my throat.

Soundlessly, Butch steps behind me, slipping his arms around my waist. His soft lips press into the crook of my neck, staying there as he whispers, “I feel what you feel. Your pain is mine. Let it out, sweetness.”

Afraid of how he’ll react if I’m honest about my worries, I bite my lip, shaking my head. “I’m scared I’ll scare you.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” I whisper, tears in my eyes.

He holds me tighter, my back flushed to his chest. “Then trust I can handle this. You’re not alone. You have me—always. Share your burden with me.”

A choked sobs rattles my lungs as I succumb to my turbulent thoughts, the pain of the past and my current fears colliding at once. My legs are suddenly too weak to hold me upright, buckling under my weight. But I don’t fall. Butch holds me up around my waist as I lean over his arms, hugging myself. He slowly lowers me to the floor, where he holds me as I let my demons out.

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