Burning Ember (13 page)

“It’s complicated. He—”

Before I can say anything else, a dark look transforms Mav’s features. Suddenly, he’s Lucifer personified.

“Does he have any idea where you are? Or did you take off without a word?”

What the hell?
“I had to—”

“Probably going out of his fucking mind, searching high and low for you. Wondering what the fuck? And here you are”—his lip curls—“running off lookin’ for a good time. Handing out your virginity because what? You wanna go for a hard ride on the wild side before you settle down with a nice Christian boy? That it? Get broken in
real
good before you shack up and become some pretty housewife for the rest of your life?”

I reel back as if he slapped me and leap to my feet. A different kind of fire burns inside me now. It loosens my tongue. My nails dig into my palms to the point I’m sure I draw blood.

My mind swirls with things to say. Things that would make Mav’s damn head spin.

“You’ve got no idea of the hell I’ve lived through!” He’s being a judgmental dick. Just because some old girlfriend crushed his heart doesn’t mean every girl he meets is exactly like her. Yeah, I heard part of his and Dozer’s conversation. Some redheaded ex named Dana screwed him over and now he’s taking his anger at her out on me.

“Yeah? Then tell me,
Doll,
what’s it like?”

As if I’m watching it on the big screen, horrid memories scroll through my mind. Nausea stirs in my stomach. I instantly feel dirty all over. I could take a hundred showers and still never rid myself of the filth those memories leave behind. I pull a deep breath into my lungs and shake out my balled fists.

Then I realize something and boldly tell him, “No.”

“No? No what?”

His hate is so ingrained that he doesn’t see me when he looks at me. He sees her, his ex. He’d rather believe in this conjured, distorted image of me than listen to anything I have to say to defend myself. I’m not baring my soul and showing him the most vulnerable parts of me. Just like I haven’t earned his anger, he hasn’t earned my answers.

“Just no,” I bite out.

“You’re not gonna tell me?” He cocks his head to one side. “Fine. Then let me guess.” He stands, places his hands on the desk, and leans toward me. The veins in his forearms bulge. “He didn’t take you out enough? Didn’t give you enough attention? Spend enough money on you?”

I roll my eyes. “That’s it.” Sarcasm drips from my words. “You nailed it. He was such a gentlemen. Rich. Handsome. Treated me like a queen.”
More like slave.
“And you know what? That wasn’t enough for me. Because I’m just like your ex, right?”

Mav’s face darkens, and his nostrils flare. He advances around the desk.

My pulse quickens. I back up but my knees hit the chair, stopping from getting any further away from him.

He grabs my chin and uses it to push me back down into my chair. He growls, “I don’t fuckin’ like you. I don’t want you here. In fact, I don’t want you anywhere near this club. But I gave Dozer my word. Twelve days. That’s it. And you better watch your fuckin’ step and that smart goddamn mouth of yours. You fuckin’ feel me?”

I glare up at him as I try to yank my chin from his iron grip, but his fingers clasp my jaw so tightly I’m certain they’ll leave fingerprints behind.

“You’ll clean, cook, do anything I fuckin’ tell you to do. And you’ll stay the fuck out of my way. That clear enough for you?”

“Yes.” The word is barely loud enough for my own ears.

The pause that follows is filled with tension.

“Yes, I understand,” I say louder this time.

“Good.” He pushes my face to the side before dropping his hand. Then he backs up and sits on the edge of his desk. He crosses his arms and continues to glare down at me. Minutes pass and I sit there for what seems like hours under his intense scowl. Finally, he says, “Answer me this? What happens at the party when Edge wants his piece of you? You gonna freak out? Embarrass the club?”

I shake my head.

“Let me hear you say it.”

“No.”

“What about when you’re the fresh piece of meat everyone’s looking to get a taste of?” He points to the door. “Those bastards can’t wait to get you on your knees, Doll. What happens when one of my brothers wants to get a sample of the smart mouth of yours? You gonna run? Or flip the fuck out?”

“No.”

“I’m not Dozer. Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not!”

“That right?” He shakes his head. Looks down. “Then why don’t I believe you?”

A few seconds later, he lifts his face. His eyes lock with mine. The corner of his mouth twitches almost as if he’s restraining a smile.

“Prove it.”

I blink up at him. “What?”

He uncrosses his arms and grabs the edge of the desk. His large knuckles go bone white and every muscle strains against the cotton of his T-shirt as he leans forward.

“I said . . . prove it. I want to see you get those knees of yours dirty.”

“But I—but—”

“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.”

I lower my gaze to the opening in his jeans. He’s commando. His cock, at least from what I can see of it . . . is as beautiful as the man himself. The veiny ridge is in plain sight, but he’s still partially hidden behind his jeans. I don’t dare move my hands for fear he’ll tie me up if I do.

I lean forward though. My breath’s heavy as both passion and anxiety roll through me. I contemplate the best way to release him from his jeans.

Licking my lips, I can’t deny I’m a little curious to know what he tastes like.

A shudder rolls through his body as my nose grazes his skin.

I move forward and I’m about to lick up his length, when he growls and jumps off the desk, knocking me backward in the process. I fall into the chair behind me and crack my head on the corner of the arm. Fiery pain flares through my skull.

I cradle my head in my hand as I hear, “Fuuucck! Fuck! Fuck!”

He’s pacing, raking his hands back and forth over his head. Then down twice over his face. He groans.

In one smooth swipe, he sends everything on the top shelf of a waist-high bookcase crashing to the floor.

Holy shit.

My heart stops and stutters before it starts beating again. I’m holding my breath. I want nothing more than to disappear. I’m all too familiar with this kind of rage. In mere seconds, he’ll turn on me. And physical pain will follow.

His head snaps in my direction. His eyes are cold and deadly.

I draw back as tremors run down my body. I hate that his furious stare stirs more than fear inside me. How can I be turned on and terrified of him at the same time?
This is so wrong.

He’s an enigma. The most beautiful man I’ve ever seen—and yet he’s the biggest, unapologetic asshole I’ve ever met.

Why should I feel anything but contempt for him?

After all, he’s a biker, a criminal, a drain on society. He hates me. I’m nothing and nobody to him. No, that’s not true. To him, I’m a dirty alley cat. Something to be used and thrown away. A snitch.

The ironic thing is, it’s in his hands which of those things I become.

Glaring down at me he yells, “Get the fuck out!”

Yeah, gladly.

I scramble up off the floor and dart toward the door. Just as I’m about to escape, his hand circles by bicep and I’m yanked off my feet. I stumble into a wall, which is actually his chest.

He growls into my ear, “Not a fuckin’ word about this.”

“I won’t.” My voice sounds small.

“To no one. Not even Dozer.”

I quickly nod.

He releases me. Or more like shoves me toward the door.

I flee from the room. I’m better off anywhere else in the clubhouse than in there with Luce who, at the moment, seems to be possessed.

I yelp when I’m grabbed a second time in the hallway. My heart tries to leap out of my chest. It takes me a millisecond to comprehend it’s Lily.

Her eyebrows are creased with worry and her face is slightly red. “Oh, my God, girl. What the hell was that about? Are you okay?”

My heart’s still racing and my hands are shaking. Where my head connected with the chair stings.

I whisper, “I’m okay. I’m okay.” However, I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince Lily or myself.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

I may not be unscathed, but I’m alive, breathing. I’ve faced the devil and bought myself another day.

However, I’m a little terrified to see what tomorrow holds.

Our eyes deceive us . . . our minds can be corrupted . . . but our hearts are forever truthful.

MAVERICK

If I stay in here any longer, one of my brothers will come looking for me, probably Taz. He’ll take one look at me, the mess I’ve made, and know something besides a mountain of work is keeping me from joining the party.

I should get out there or get back to work and finish my overdue design. But I’ll be damned if I can think straight enough to put pencil to paper tonight. Most likely, I’ll fuck it up more than I’ll fix it.