Page 48 of Emmy's Ride

Austin’s hands skimmed down my body, over every dip, every curve, before gripping my thighs and spreading me wide beneath him. Then he was there—hot, hard, unyielding—pressing against me, pushing inside.

A sharp inhale.

A moment of stillness.

Then blazing, relentless movement.

I clung to him, nails digging into his back as he drove into me, each thrust deeper, harder, more deliberate than the last. His name was a breathless moan on my lips, a plea, a surrender. His body covered mine, surrounded me, owned me. When the pleasure crashed over me, blinding, shattering, I knew I would never escape him. I didn’t want to. Austin was right—he did own me.

The next morning, I woke to an empty bed, the sheets still warm where Austin had been. The silence in the room was unsettling,a reminder that I was trapped here while he and the Kings handled whatever chaos had erupted overnight.

I wasn’t about to sit around waiting for him. Pulling on jeans and a tank top, I tied my hair into a loose ponytail and headed downstairs. If I was stuck here, I was at least going to get some damn food.

The moment I walked into the bar, I instantly regretted it. It was like stepping into a time machine—one that transported me straight back to the life I had fought so hard to escape.

It didn’t matter that it was early in the morning. In front of me were probably the remnants from a long night of partying. A woman was riding one of the Kings on the couch in the corner, her head thrown back in a moan loud enough to be heard over the blaring rock music.Men.Can’t even be bothered to take it behind closed doors. I rolled my eyes and kept walking. Three women danced on the stage, topless, their only clothing the thin thongs clinging to their hips. They looked exhausted. Men sat back, drinking and watching, their eyes heavy with lust.

At the tables, card games were in full swing. A few of the guys I recognized from years ago nodded respectfully at my presence. Others—newer members or ones who still resented me for walking away from Austin—watched me with thinly-veiled disdain.

I ignored them all. I was used to it.

I pushed through the swinging kitchen doors, the sounds of the bar muffling as I stepped inside. The smell of bacon and grease filled the air, and behind the counter, Candy was flipping pancakes on the griddle.

She smirked when she spotted me. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the counter. “Still running the kitchen, I see.”

She flipped another pancake. “Someone’s gotta keep these heathens fed. What are you doing down here?”

“Hoping for some actual food. Austin’s pickings are slim in his room. If I have to eat dry cereal one more time, I’ll scream.”

She snorted. “Sounds about right.”

Two other women sat at the counter, stirring their coffee in silence. Club girls. I recognized one of them—Star—but the other was new.

I pulled out a stool, sitting down as Candy slid me a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon.

“Long night?” I asked, glancing at the girls.

Star sighed, running a hand through her tangled blonde hair. “Yeah. Long week, actually.”

The other woman, a brunette with dark circles under her eyes, let out a humorless laugh. “Try long life.”

I picked at my food, watching them both. I didn’t usually get involved in club business anymore, but…

“What’s going on?” I asked nonchalantly.

Candy shot me a warning look, but Star just shrugged. “Same shit, different day. Men want one thing, and when they get bored, they move on.”

The brunette nodded. “Some of us get lucky. Some don’t.”

I set down my fork. “Are you safe?”

They both hesitated.

Candy leaned over the counter, practically in my face. “Em, you know how it is. No one’s forcing anyone to be here. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

I exhaled slowly. I had spent years working with people—especially women—who had been used, discarded, and left to pick up the pieces. Some of them found strength and made a life for themselves. Others got stuck in a cycle they couldn’t escape.

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