Princess (11 page)

“What? How?”

Viking slips his fingers free, showing them to me, covered in my wetness. “Like this.” He sticks the fingers in his mouth, sucking the juices off them completely. As he tastes each digit, his cock grows rock hard between us, digging into my belly.

The site of him so turned on from a small taste is insanely hot. My breaths quicken as his cheeks flush, tattling that he wants me very badly. After his fingers are clean, he drops his hands, lightly grasping my hips and I relax my cat claws that’ve probably drawn blood under his shirt.

“You swear she wasn’t licking on you?” he asks—his voice softer, normal—vulnerable. “I’m able to tell by your flavor; no man’s had you but me. I can’t tell, however, if she had her tongue on you.”

I damn near stutter, rushing to respond. “I promise, no one, not even Bethany. I was asleep when you knocked; that’s why I looked like that, and I always wear this to bed.”

A deep breath leaves him as his shoulders finally relax. I can smell myself on him, and it’s making me want to jump him.

“No one fingers, licks, or fucks this cunt but me now. You’re
my
bitch.”

“Umm, no. I’m not anyone’s bitch.”

His eyebrow rises, staying perked up for a few moments as he holds me hostage, waiting for his argument.

“I claimed you last night in front of everyone. Like it or not, you’re my Ol’ Lady now. You belong to me.” He takes a step back as I desperately attempt to fabricate a response to justify why I’m not his Ol’ Lady, nor could I ever be. Opening my mouth, he interrupts, “I’ll give you space, but get your ass to the bar Thursday night. I’m going to have a few drinks, and then I’m eating that pussy for dessert.”

And I’m speechless.

“Wait a minute…you’re
telling me he did all of that and then just left you there? He didn’t make you come first, say I’m sorry or anything?” Bethany’s mouth hangs open in shock.

We’re sitting on a small patio having lunch at a deli we like to eat at. I was filling her in on the whole Viking situation from yesterday when he overtook my apartment and then left me hanging.

Shaking my head, I take a sip of my bottled water.

“It happened exactly like I told you.”

“Jesus Christ,” she replies and takes a bite of her sandwich.

“I know. I pretty much froze up like an idiot.”

“I still can’t get over the fact he got you to shut up.” She snorts and I shoot her a glare. “What! It’s the truth, Prissy, and you know it. You have to be the most argumentative, loud-mouthed person I know. And I say that in a good way, take it as a compliment. You stand up for yourself and your beliefs.”

Rolling my eyes, I dip my sandwich in my loaded potato soup and take a huge bite.

“Good thing you have a big mouth; I bet Viking’s dick is huge.”

My hand flies up to cover my lips as I damn near choke at her words. She says some random crazy shit. Chewing my mouthful carefully, my eyes water as I swallow the food down and clear my throat.

“I almost just died right then. Don’t talk about his cock anymore.”

“You’re very much alive honey, and if you choke like that with his dick in your mouth, there’s no doubt he’ll shoot off like the Fourth of July.”

“Shush, tell me how it went with Nightmare.”

Her smile drops, and she briefly glances away. “Another time, we need to go, or we’ll be late for our movie.”

What the fuck happened and why isn’t she dying to talk to me about it?

“You win this time, but you’re telling me eventually.”

She nods quietly and collects her trash, then escapes anymore conversation by going and throwing everything away.

I swear he better not have hurt her already.

VIKING

Three days later…

Thursday rolls around before
I know it and fuck if I don’t want to admit it, but I’m looking forward to seeing Princess. If I’m real about it, I’ve been thinking about her non-stop since I left her place. It’s taken everything in me these past four days to leave her alone and not show up unannounced again.

I haven’t completely left her alone, though. This app that Spider hooked me up with is like my secret weapon. Tracking her has been a fucking dream come true. Every place she drives to and stops, it logs on my phone with the complete addresses. Then there’s the listening feature; I’ve been able to turn it on at random times and catch her voice. She can’t hear me, which is perfect.

Fuck, I can’t wait to listen to her moan when I’m inside her later.

With four days apart now, I assumed my attraction for her would dim and I’d be able to cut her off, now having had a taste. I’m a fucking fool. Staying away has driven me mad. I’m irritated about everything, grouchier than usual, and when I manage to fall asleep, I dream of her every damn time. Probably doesn’t help that my bed smells like her flowery scent.

It’s constant, utter fucking torture knowing what she looks like sleeping next to me and wishing she were in my bed, or how silky her skin feels when it’s up against mine, and how hot her tight cunt feels squeezing the cum right out of me. That bitch fucking owns me. I know it already, and soon my brothers will also. If anything, that’s pissing me off even more.

Being a Nomad is my life. I love being an outlaw and doing whatever the fuck I want, never being judged for scalping a motherfucker who crosses me. Right now Princess stares at me like I’m a god or some shit, but I know eventually that light will fade away, and she’ll look at me with blackness, finally seeing the type of poison I really am.

When I was growing up, I dealt with that look from my mother, but my father couldn’t give two fucks. He’s even darker than I am. But Princess is my exception. I would hang myself or slit my goddamn throat if I ever saw the poison shadowing in her gaze.

With those thoughts, I angrily storm across the street to the bar. I’m early; I know she won’t be here for a while, but I need whiskey and a lot of it. It won’t solve my issues, but it’ll help drown out any guilty feelings I’m having. I’ve turned off my conscience; I’ve had to, in order to become the ruthless bastard that I am today.

Princess, though, she lights a fucking fire inside my chest and with the many chances of me damaging her eventually, I need to start drowning it out now. When it comes down to it, I know that no matter how much I tell myself that I’m no good for her, I don’t fucking care. I want her, and I’ll have her.

“Whiskey. Double. Neat,” I demand as my ass hits the stool and Stacy’s eyes grow wide.

“No problem, would you like a beer too?”

“No. Keep them coming or give me the fucking bottle.”

She nods, rushing to pour me half a small glass. Placing it dutifully in front of me, she stares up at me a little frightened. I almost feel like I should pat her on her head and tell her good job, so she doesn’t piss her pants. I don’t, however; instead, I grunt and swallow back the entire beverage, placing the glass down louder than necessary.

“Another one?” she asks before reaching for the tumbler.

“Did I stutter?”

“Okay then. You’ve had a shit day, and I know you’re not driving, so how about I just keep pouring them until you’ve had enough?”

“Good girl.” I nod, and she pours a hefty amount of the spicy, amber liquid.

Saint plops down next to me, sending Stacy a dazzling smile. Her face brightens at his light ash colored irises and good ol’ boy charade he has her fooled with.

“Rough day brother?” He questions, gesturing to my liquor as Stacy places his Captain and Coke down. “Thanks, sweetheart.” Saint winks and she flutters away in a daze.

“It is what it is, man.”

“That’s the fucking truth.” He sighs and takes a hefty gulp.

“You got Sinner hiding in your ass somewhere or what?”

“Fuck you. He’ll be over later.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re not ready to hit the road yet? Usually, you’re restless by now.”

Shrugging, I finish my drink, catching part of two guys’ conversation. Saint starts to talk again, but I’m trying to concentrate on what the other guy’s saying. Holding up a finger between us, Saint notices and instantly quiets to pay attention also.

After a few beats, I’m able to locate the source. It’s the stupid Prospect I ran into when I first saw Princess. Their voices grow louder as he gets wound up, making it easier for me to overhear everything.

“She was the sweetest I’ve ever tasted man, swear to fuckin’ God! Blonde everywhere too; fuck, it was good.”

“Damn, blonde pussy hair too?”

“Yep. When she told me her name was Princess I thought the bitch was joking, but I could see it with her looks an’ all. Then she told me her father’s the President of the fucking Oath Keepers! Was the dumb bimbo tryin’ to get me smoked? Her old man would fall the fuck out if he found out.”

“Scratch, you’re good as dead even if Prez doesn’t find out and one of the brothers hear about it. You know they’d string you up, messing with a family member like that.”

“That’s what I said too. I got the fuck outta there like my ass was on fire and shit. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying I’d never hit it again. I’d probably have her come over for a midnight booty call then send her packin’ out the back door, but that’s about it, so my ass doesn’t get shot.”

This motherfucker needs to shut up.
I’ve pretty much heard all that I can handle. It’s a miracle I haven’t broken something already, but I was concentrating on what was being said.

Saint’s ashy irises—now dark and stormy—meet mine, having heard it all for himself. “That your little Miss Happily Ever After they’re talking about over there?” He nods toward my next kill.

A furious growl resonates through my chest, unable to answer him as my fury builds inside like a Phoenix, destined to rise from the smoke and seek out retribution.

A malicious grin appears on his too pretty face as the real Saint decides to show himself. “Oh, let’s have some fun, shall we?” He lets loose a loud chuckle, getting to his feet. “Been far too long since Sinner’s let me play with someone, always keeping the peace.” His eyes widen in glee. “What do you wanna do to him, Vike?”

“Get him out back; the bathroom will be too messy. It’s about time I pay a visit to the club and let them know where the fuck I stand.” He nods turning away.

Saint cackles as he saunters toward the two Prospects, excited to finally stir up some trouble. Snatching up his drink, I finish it in two swigs, watching as he claps the loud mouth Prospect on the back, filling him full of lies about wanting his opinion on a bike outside that he may buy.

Scratch, being green, follows Saint willingly out the back door as the other Prospect sits at their table, happily chugging a cheap draft beer. I wish I could come up with some sort of plan, but I’m honestly raging so much inside that the image of ripping him apart, piece by bloody piece runs through my mind like my own personal horror movie.

Standing, I move throughout the bar in a daze, not focusing on anything but the bristling need to get outside before I burst. If I’m confined for much longer, I’m liable to kill someone in here or at least break a bunch of shit that would end up getting the cops called on me. Laughter and voices are nothing but a blur, everything mixing as I make it to the back door.

Slamming through it, the Prospect’s head whips toward me at the loud noise, fear and trepidation quickly consuming his features as he discovers it’s me. He shuffles a step back behind Saint, gullible and stupid to think that my brother would ever save him. He’s a nobody, and Saint owes him no loyalty.

Saint turns to Scratch wearing one hell of a scary looking smile and grabs his arms forcefully.

“Hey, what the hell?” Scratch yelps in surprise.

Striding toward them, I grumble, “Most of you candy-ass motherfuckers like to run when I approach them.”

“What’s this about? I’m cool, remember?” he pacifies, causing Saint to laugh.

Saint loves when they beg and plead. He’ll torture a fucker for days just to see how long they’d cry for their life. That’s where Sinner comes in, cleaning up the mess and putting the miserable to rest. He’s always alongside Saint, ready to help keep a sense of balance.

“I heard you talking about my Ol’ Lady.”

“No way; I was talkin’ about a chick I met at a party. I wouldn’t be talking about your Ol’ Lady.”

At my glower, Saint snickers, squeezing the Prospect’s arms until he yelps and faces him.

“Fuck! What’s your problem now?” he asks angrily.

Saint smiles brightly, confusing Scratch, then drives his forehead into the man’s nose when he’s least expecting it. Blood showers them both as Scratch cries out in pain, feeding into exactly what Saint wants.

“You don’t speak unless spoken too, Prospect,” Saint orders and I take a few steps closer, ready to take what’s owed, unsnapping my large blade as I approach.

“No one speaks about Princess like that. You think her cunt tastes good? It’ll be the last one you ever taste, so savor that shit. I won’t walk around knowing some motherfucker has touched my bitch and fuckin’ lived,” I growl, leaning down close to his face, showing him who the real alpha is.

Sweat draws on his brow as he swallows, thinking of something to placate me, “Sh-she wasn’t yours. I wouldn’t do that.”