Page 31 of Dirty Salvation

Zara had been raped, beaten, countless unquestionable times.

Yeah,nothingto celebrate.

Pouring two fingers of scotch, his third in a matter of minutes, downed it in one long burning gulp, trying without success to ease the tension between his shoulders.

His head was already throbbing, he supposed the booze wouldn’t help that, but it might stop him from thinking of the way Zara had taken off for the shower when he’d pointed to the bathroom door, she was hurting all over, but the desperation in her hasty steps made him frown.

She’d struggled with her shirt, he’d noticed before the door had closed, she was favoring her ribs. It had been on the tip of his tongue to offer his help.

Fucks sake, where had that come from?

The woman had been violated in the worse way, he doubted she wanted his hands on her, even to lift her shirt over her head.

He’d gotten out of his room quick sharp, leaving her to wash up, only to return a few minutes later with another plate of sandwiches and a bag of chips. He left them on the bed, hesitated to listen to the water coming from behind the door.

His dick ached.

Yep. He was a dirty bastard.

Slouched down in his office chair, Rider pulled the sleeves of his shirt down past his fingers. The cabin was frigid cold for October, there was even some frost in the early morning air and they were calling for snow, he could see it happening.

With his club on lockdown, expecting the sheriff and his crew to come by anytime soon, he hadn’t wanted to hang around inside, the walls had closed in on him until he felt restricted of clean air. It wasn’t often Rider was taken by surprise, but fuck if seeing Zara hadn’t kicked him in the fucking gut.

Assaulted with memories he let them play for a while.

They wound around his mind, erotic webs fixing themselves in place.

The way she’d screamed as he’d fucked her into his bed, how her legs wrapped him tight like a cobra, she’d been silky wet and Rider had gone down on her for so long she’d begged him, pleaded insisting that she couldn’t take anymore.

He could still feel the tight clasp of her pussy, those deep sharp wet thrusts taking him down to the bottom of her, and that soft exhale as she’d stretched around his cock, that first caress of pleasure, he’d seen play on her face the second she began to like it as rough as he gave her it, her body undulating wanting him to move inside her with force.

Nails gouging his back up. He’d loved that.

He’d fucked a virgin and liked it.

Best night of his life. He’d known it.

Hadn’t had sex like it.

Miss sunshine virgin had rocked his fucking boots.

Rider didn't kid himself about the image he presented to the citizens of Armado Springs. He was never the golden boy, the glorified boring jock and not the boy to bring him to mom and dad for an apple pie supper.

He left women with a wicked taste of curiosity, and a touch of fear in the older generation because they knew first hand or had heard of his reputation.

No one messed with Rider.

Nevertheless, he loved his town and did all he could for the people within its borders. Rider contributed to charities, he helped flagging businesses to get back on their feet.

Last year when half the church burnt down in a freak thunderstorm the Renegade Souls rallied the money together, held a giant cookout and even arranged for an out of town construction company to donate most of the hard labor to the fund.

Now if he'd used persuasive non-political tactics to get that discount, did it really matter. His sway reached far, they'd all heard of Rider, whether by association, or word of mouth. If people didn't bend over backward to aid his requests, then he'd help them along to change their minds.

Outlaws wouldneverbe in style.

Just because he did good things didn't mean Rider was in any way a good man. Gray areas covered a wide span of space. It was impossible to be a Hollywood type when you had an ink sleeve and a bad attitude pouring out of your every facial expression.

This was his city and he loved every seedy inch of it. He didn't have the key to the city, but he felt in a somewhat part owner of Armado Springs since he ran a lot of it whether people knew or not.

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