Page 35 of Burning Ember
“What? You don’t want to? There’s the fuckin’ door. Around here clubpieces”—he jabs his finger into my sternum—“that’s you, take orders from brothers”—he points at his own chest—“like me. You’re here for one thing and one thing only. Don’t ever forget that.”
“It’s not that. It’s just—”
“This is the deal, Doll. You don’t like it. LEAVE!”
I’m so sick of him cutting me off. “If you’d let me finish!” I snap. “I was only going to ask why the hell you want head from me. You obviously detest me. All you can see when you look at me is some other damn girl!”
His eyes blaze with emotion, but he quickly masks it.
“I don’t have to like a bitch to get off on her suckin’ my cock.”
Frustrated, I huff out a long breath and sweep my hair from my face. “And what’s this point you’re trying to prove?”
“That when things get real, you’re gonna freak the fuck out and run.” He hikes his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s what girls like you do. You can’t take it when life gets tough. And you’re not going to open your legs for a bunch of bikers after years of saving yourself for the right man.”
I look away and then down at my lap. He has no idea. It’s almost comical, in a crazy, depressing way. “I can handle anything you can dish out,” I say through clenched teeth without meeting his gaze. “You want me to prove it? Fine.”I will. This is nothing. NOTHING!
“That right? Then let’s break in those soft knees of yours, Doll. Show me you’re not a runner. That you can do more with that mouth of yours than piss me the hell off.” His smile’s a cold smile. It’s fake. Forced. His eyes molten. “I want you to suck my cock like you like it. Lick it like it’s a goddamn lollipop, and the best fuckin’ thing you ever tasted.”
I know what he’s doing. He doesn’t want me here. But he can’t make me leave because of Dozer. So he’s trying to get me to run. Leave on my own.
It’s going to take more than this to scare me off. Especially since I’m a lot more scared of what’s outside the clubhouse waiting for me than I am of the men inside it. Including Mav.
Fine. If this is what it takes to prove to him I’m not like his ex, that I’m not going to run when things get hard, then I’ll do it. I’ll give him the best damn blowjob he’s ever had. One he’s not going to forget. So good, all others will pale in comparison. Maybe that will shut him up.
He’s waiting for me to rush out of here. A smug expression inches over his face.
I decide to play with him a bit first.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my cherry ChapStick. The lid pops when I remove it. I take my time, slowly drawing it over my lips, rub them together, and pop them apart, before capping the ChapStick and putting it back in my pocket. Reaching back, I pull the elastic from my hair and shake out my braid. “So you can grip it better,” I tell him and I’ll be damned if that muscle in his jaw doesn’t start to tick.
I ever so slowly slip out of my chair to the floor between his legs.
He spreads them wider to give me room. I start by rubbing my hands up and down his thighs three times. His thigh muscles bulge under my hands. Strong and sturdy. My movements are unhurried, testing his patience as I slide my hands to his belt.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
I pause and blink up at him, as an alarm goes off in my head.
“Do it.”
Cautiously, I circle them behind my back and cross them.
With rapid movements, he unlatches his silver belt buckle. For a second, I recall all the things Warner could do with a belt. I cringe and fight to stay in the present.
What if he ties me up?
That thought sends an icy chill down my spine.
He flicks the top button on his jeans open. He fingers the zipper and draws it down.
I look up. “Mav?”
I’m surprised by what I see. His jaw is clenched. His eyes are tightly shut. Even when I say his name, he doesn’t look down at me. His entire body is rigid. And he might just break the desk with the death grip he’s got on it.
I don’t think he realizes I’m looking at him. That I can see how much he doesn’t want this. You’d think he’s waiting for a deadly blow, not a pleasurable one.
“I don’t have all fuckin’ day,” he rasps out. “Get the fuck on with it. Or get out.”
