Page 30 of Kick

She’s turned her body into the wall, huddling against the wet tile. A part of me wants to leave her there, but that’s not part of the plan. “In order for you to get out of here wearin’ somethin’ other than a body bag, you’re gonna need to make this believable.”

I take hold of her shoulder and spin her around to face me. I push her back against the tile and spread her legs apart by wedging my knee between them. She resists, but I give her an impatient glare and drive my leg between hers until she has no choice but to open, or suffer even more bruises. “Open for me, Princess. I swear I’ll be gentle.”

I use the distraction of my words to slip between her legs. Her body is pressed to mine and my cock rests against her belly. I take hold of it and slide it into the hollowVcreated by her thighs, her smooth pussy skimming my dick. I can feel her wetness, her arousal left over from the two orgasms I wrought from her with my hands. That might have broken her, but if anything it’s only made me want her more. I rock against her body and promise silently that one day she will let me inside her. It won’t be because my Prez has commanded it, or because she thinks things might go easier for her if she plays nice. It will be because she wants me there. Because she craves it—needs it. And when that time comes she won’t just be a princess of an MC, she’ll be a motherfuckin’ queen. My motherfuckin’ queen.

“When are you going to get it through that fuckin’ thick skull of yours? You’re going to die unless you go along with this. You got me, babe? You play nice and when I can I’ll help you get outta here, but if you fuck this up, if you run again, or you don’t go along with everything I say to the coppers that are about to come busting through that door there, then no one can fuckin’ help you. Not me. Not your dad. No fuckin’ one.”

“Please don’t hurt me. Please?” she begs.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, darlin’. And I’m not going to rape you. So long as you play nice, you get to leave this bathroom with your pretty skull intact.”

I move my hips back, unable to resist the sensation of my wet cock sliding against her slick cunt. I know this isn’t doing much for my promise not to rape her, and I wouldn’t, because I’ve had a taste of this wildcat’s surrender and it’s the closest thing to holy that I’ll ever get in this life, or the one after. Shoving myself inside her without permission isn’t going to get me more of that delicious submission, it’ll only make her fight, and while I may even enjoy that too, it’s not how I want her.

I want the taste of her cunt on my tongue, I want to bury myself so deep we merge into a single being. I want her begging and pleading with me to send her over the edge, and for perhaps the first time ever, I want someone to need me, to depend on me. The arsehole, the bastard who’s left a long string of whores broken in his wake without so much as a second thought. The piece-of-shit whose life was almost snuffed out by his father, who wakes every day and looks in the mirror with enough self-loathing to detonate Times Square, if only that shit was combustible. That pathetic excuse for a man wants to be worthy of someone. The question I need to figure out now is: why?

Out in the clubhouse sounds of protests, glass breaking and furniture being overturned ring out. I stare at the girl’s eyes; they’re wide and panicked, and I know she hears it too. I press my palm flat against her sternum, and it makes her glance down and her eyes grow wider. Her heart taps out a staccato beat against her flesh, and mine.

“Look at me, Princess,” I say. Her wild gaze shoots up to meet my own. “I’m not going to stick my cock in you; not today, anyway. But I can make this enjoyable for you, like downstairs.”

“Touch me again and I swear to you I will scream.”

“Yeah, you will.” I say. Her eyes narrow with anger, her jaw clenches tight. “Face it—I know exactly where to touch you. I know exactly how to break you in, and you like it. You don’t want to, but you do. It’s written all over your face, and it’s here.” I slide my hands down between us and slip into her slick pussy lips. She jolts away, but she has nowhere to go. I have her penned in with one arm and the other is stroking her pretty cunt, coaxing more pleasure, coaxing her orgasm from her. She sobs, but it’s the sound of resignation, not pain.

I quicken my pace, lean forward and whisper, “Scream for me, Princess.”

She clenches her teeth, resisting. I rise to the challenge, or I guess I bow down and kneel to it. The dirty tile hurts my knees. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on them before another person, but I push past the discomfort and spread her thighs apart, hooking one leg over my shoulder. She struggles; when does she not? But I take that bud in my mouth, sucking hard and wrenching the screams from the back of her throat. Her thighs clench around either side of my head as her whole body gives over to the spasms, head thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open in pure blissful pleasure.

I don’t stop at just one, though. I lick and suck through her twisting and twitching, her protests and punches. I delve my tongue into her hole, as far as I can reach, rubbing my coarse stubble against her pussy, making her flinch and cry out, and eventually tilt her hips toward me for more.

When the cops finally bust down my door, I’ve forgotten all about the fuckers. I stand quickly and capture her face in my hands. If she’s smart, she’ll play along; if not, this may be the only time I get to taste her, have her, kiss her. So I do that, despite the fact that I’m buck naked, she’s scared out of her fucking mind and the cops have a gun trained on my head. I lower my lips to hers and drive my tongue into her mouth, forcing her to taste herself, to feel me in her mouth the way I was inside her pussy. I use the distraction to wrap my hand around the nape of her neck, realising how easy it would be to twist and snap it, and fearing the fragility of her all at once. I keep my eyes trained on her as I take her mouth. She’s doped with pleasure, and her eyes are glassy—or the one that I can see is. The other is still swollen shut.

“Get your hands on your head and turn around slowly,” the cop commands. I let the girl’s face go and place my hands behind my head, turning with a cocky smile and an even cockier dick, considering I’m still fuckin’ hard as concrete and beggin’ for release. That’s one orgasm I can kiss goodbye.

The cop closest to the door curls his lip in distaste. “Jesus Christ.”

“There a reason you officers are busting down my door while I’m trying to make sweet mad love to my old lady here?”

“Step out of the shower, and drop to your knees, Sir.”

“Listen, fellas, you might swing that way down at the station, but I don’t suck cock. As you can see, I like pussy.” A grin tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Mostly just her pussy, but I’m not fussy.”

One of them pulls a towel from the rack and throws it at me. “Cover yourself up,” he hisses, bringing his hand back to his gun.

I step from the shower and wrap the towel around me, not bothering to dry off, then I throw another at the girl and say, “Princess, go wait for me in bed, okay? This shouldn’t take long, and then I can get back to fucking the shit outta that sweet cunt of yours.”

She just stares at me and I have to refrain from rolling my eyes. Could she be any more fuckin’ suspicious? Her gaze darts from the cops to me, and back again. She opens her mouth to speak, but I shoot her a warning look and her eyes widen. I’m shoved to the ground. The men slap me in cuffs, though I’m not read my rights, so I don’t know what the fuck is going on. For a half a second I think my prez might have used me as a scapegoat, but no one rats to the cops. Not even Prez can come back from that shit. You rat, you die. It’s the reason they’ve been gunning for Ethan’s head for so long, because the Angels believe he ratted and then cashed in his get-out-of-jail-free card. I know differently, but I can’t exactly tell them that, because that would open up a whole slew of questions Prez wouldn’t like the answer to. Answers that would get me a bullet to the face.

The water shuts off and her little feet thud on the mat beside me. I dare a glance in her direction. She’s covered by an old towel, hair plastered to her back and water beaded on her skin. I wanna lick it off. I wanna trace my tongue over every fuckin’ inch of that gloriously brown body, but one of the bastards in blue hauls me up by the cuffs and shoves me forward. The towel slips from my waist. The cop in front of me lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Christ. Can we get some clothes on this fucker?”

“Just do up the God damned towel.”

“I’m not going near his Johnson. You fucking do it.”

I roll my eyes as the two cops fight about my junk hanging out for the world to see. Princess surprises us both, I think, when she bends down in front of me and retrieves the towel. It’s more surprising still when she glances up at me from her position on the floor. Her eyes are dark with challenge. Over what? I don’t know.

Princess stands and wraps the towel around me, skimming the hard muscles of my hips with her tiny fragile hands as she tucks one end of the towel into the part covering my waist. “Thanks, Princess. Now be a good little girl and go wait in bed for me.”

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