Knot (Road Kill MC #2) (5 page)

Noose

My cock is its own zip code of agony, trying to dig its way out of my jeans and get back to that sweet piece of Rose.

Leaving Rose's wet perfect pussy is a tally on the side of the hardest shit I've
not
done.

Holy righteous fuck.

I begin to stalk through the club then whirl around and stab a finger at the prospect outside Rose's door. “Don't fucking move.”

His eyes go round with tasteable fear, and I pivot, adjusting my junk again.
Damn. I’m gonna need ten cold showers to get over this set of blue balls.

More like blue cannons.

Snare moves up beside me. “Noose.”

I whip a palm up. “Not now. I gotta go jack off.”

His eyebrows pop, and a laugh cracks out of him. “What? You just saved your girl, and—there's no place for how fucked up
that
is.”

Yeah.
I turn and point to my pillar of a dick. “I can't be around her without wanting to bang her. Circumstance apparently isn't relevant. And”—I lower my voice to a sinister whisper—“she needs fucking
time,
bro.” I feel my eyebrows jerk to my hairline.

Snare's expression is pained. “Ah.
Ouch.
”

I grab my package. “I'm dying. I laid my shit out on the fucking line, got her off like a freight train…” My words die as I yank my hair back into a tie.

Fuck this.

Crystal comes walking by, and I practically run to the room I use when I stay at the club.

“Noose!” Snare calls out. I ignore him.

Crystal's heels spike after me.
Tap, tap, tap.

I close the door behind me, and she opens it, kicking it closed behind her.

Don't need this noise.

“Let me take this away, Noose.”

I set my hands on my hips, trying to steady my breathing.

Crystal's finger taps my shoulder. I turn and face her. Large eyes gaze up at me.

My cock throbs.

Rose doesn't want you, man
. She says she doesn't need someone to protect her.

I made a fool out of myself. I charged in there like I was her fucking old man—like she'd already said yes twice to being my property.

Rose hasn't said dick. I'd been speculating a fantasy so hard, I'd believed it.

Crystal takes in my silence, slinking forward.

I say nothing. I look at the top of her head, imagining Rose’s honey strands instead of the chalked-out blond in front of me.

“Just let me take it all away, baby.”

Slowly, so slowly, she unzips my jeans, and I can hear the sigh of relief my cock makes when it springs free of the tight denim.

My head falls back, and her wet mouth sinks over the tip.

My cock twitches. I'm so ready to blow from being on edge all this time. I barely notice anything. Noise, atmosphere—nothing.

I grip her head and ram it down my prick. I don't spare Crystal anything.

She wants to get me off? Relieve me of what feels like a gallon of cum? Fine.

I move her head up and down my length, tip to root, jerking her back up to the swollen head. Down.

“Noose!” she gasps.

“Take it, Crystal, or leave.”

She does.

Her hands cup my balls, and I make a sound of pure release. I stiffen. My back hurts, my toes curl inside my boots, and I pour my seed into her mouth, her lips slammed to the base of me.

Crystal thrashes, pushing at me, and I finally release her.

“God! You fucker! I couldn't fucking breathe.” She falls back on her ass, her slutty short dress revealing her no-panty status.

My eyelids are drooping. I'm beyond fucking exhausted. “Sounds like you're breathing okay to me.”

Crystal wipes the back of her hand over her swollen pouty mouth, coming away with semen and saliva.

Her gaze is flat and mean. “You're not very grateful, Noose.”

I roll my eyes, jacking my limp noodle back in place, and zip up. “You volunteered to be the cum dumpster, and I filled you. But ya bitch about it?”

I walk over to the dresser that has smokes and rifle around inside the empty pack. Finally, I find one. Just one. I jerk the single cig out and stuff it into my mouth. I grab the lighter just as it skitters across the surface, away from my rummaging fingers. I slap my palm over the red plastic and scoop it from the top, lighting and inhaling in one move.

I blow a ring then send a second one directly after the first. They are two together, one smaller inside the first.

Some shit just comes together, even if it’s simple.

“Noose!”

Crystal's still there. I feel like this is on replay or some shit.

I stride to the door. “I'm not looking for property, Crystal.” I jerk my jaw at the door.

Ash falls like gray snowflakes, dusting my boots. I kick it off.

Her voice stops me cold, my hand tight on the knob.

“That's not what I heard.”

My head slowly turns, eyes narrowing on Crystal.

I take a drag on the cig. “What are you saying?”

“I'm saying,” she says, clearly loving having center stage, “that the word in the club is Noose is hot for some prissy banker.”

Fuck.
“I don't want anybody.” A small lie.

Crystal's smirk is a hell of a lot more sure than I like. “I talked to her.”

A red veil of rage descends over my eyes, and a wave of lightheadedness washes over me. “You.
What?
” I bellow.

“I talked to Rose.” She says her name like it’s a joke. “Told her that you and I were a thing. Not to waste her time. She's no sweet butt or old-lady material anyway, Noose. Saved her big time.”

I feel my eyes cross. The cig drops from my fingertips. I want to choke her. My fingers shake.

I suck an inhale like I'm drowning. “Where the fuck do you get off
talking
to Rose?”

Crystal's eyes bug. “Listen, I know you're a good guy. You went and helped her out with Chaos. I get that. But now she can go home and back to her perfect little civvie existence with all the rest of the ninety-nine percent.” She shrugs. Crystal logic.

I clear my throat. A lot of what Crystal says makes sense—for someone who gives a fuck about logic. But logic departed a long time ago. I'm thinking with my cock. I'm thinking with a part of me I didn't know I had.

Crystal telling me shit I already know just pisses me off.

“I gave her some clothes, and she split.”

“You!? What?” I do touch her then, jerking her to me. I clamp her shoulders, holding her still. “Listen to me, you whoring bitch—I never wanted anything permanent. But that girl? The girl you just kicked out of here by telling her fucking lies from your small brain? I want
her
.” I shake her.

Her teeth click, and I release her. Not gonna lay hands on a woman.

I grit my teeth. No matter how much she deserves it.

Crystal looks at me like I'm a piece of dogshit on the bottom of her stiletto. “If this Rose is so fucking important, what are you doing here, letting me suck you off, swallow you down—when you could be with little Miss Perfect? Huh? Why don't you ask yourself that, Noose? Look in the fucking mirror really hard and think about if you're walking the talk.”

Crystal turns and sashays out the room with a soft click of the door.

I kick the door with my boot, almost putting my foot through the wood.

Fuck!

I jerk open the door, and it flies into the wall behind it.

I stride across the club, ignoring everything, and go straight to the room where we patch everyone up.

The prospect is gone.

I open the door.

So is Rose.

All I can smell is her perfume… and her pussy. But maybe that's wishful thinking.

*

“Where'd she go?”

Wring answers, “Let the prospect take her.” He shrugs.

“Fuck.”

Wring's look is hard. “Noose, you threw down for her in front of the club. She's been through hell. We've got a prospect following her. Diablo is licking his many wounds. Lay low—let her have space.”

That's Wring. Temperance. Even out in the field, out of the three of us, he was the voice of reason.

Too bad I'm so fucking unreasonable about now. “Why would she just leave?”

“Heard the sweet butt had a chat with her.”

I nod. “Yeah.” I give my tied hair a vicious cinch.

Wring is an inch shorter than I am, and he’s lean. He works on his physique with martial arts. He's all Zen and shit. Whatever works.

He shrugs. “The sweet butt's got a point, Noose. This girl doesn't belong in our world. She's been impacted by the MC—in the worst goddamned way. But Crystal, she's in-house tail. She knows what our needs are, doesn't get in the way, takes the cream, and keeps her mouth shut.” Wring suddenly grins. “Except when compelled not to.”

I look skyward. The ceiling greets my gaze. I take deep breaths, trying to calm my shit down so that I don't go blasting after Rose and beg to talk to her.

Beg to fuck her.

Only a bastard would want to fuck a girl who'd been through what Rose just survived.

Feel like I should raise my hand.
“So I should just give up? Let her go. Let that fucker Diablo circle her and the kid like a shark?”

“Listen, man, I got your back. But I gotta say, this is bigger than Rose Christo. We fucked with Chaos. There's going to be retribution. Rose is the least of the club's worries now. We stood behind you. We stand behind you now.” Wring's pale eyebrows shoot up, waiting for a reply from me.

I grunt.

“If she were your old lady—legit, not a pipedream—we protect our property. But she doesn't act like an old lady. She acts like a scared girl who was glad as fuck to scoot her ass out of here first opportunity.”

I shake my head. “God
damn.
”

“You're not going to listen to reason?” Wring doesn't look like the rest of us. We're all knotters. Wring, Lariat, and me. He understands me. We've gone shoulder to shoulder. He's pale, Aryan-nation white. But he's the most even-handed, none-prejudicial human being I've ever known.

His words strike me like fists. They're spot-on, as usual.

“Are you going to listen?” he repeats.

My exhale is a raw strip of air. “Nope.”

Wring stills for a couple of heartbeats. “Didn't think you would, brother.”

I'm consistent as fuck. “So what's the plan?” I ask him.

“The prospect has your girl.”

I love how Wring switches gears. He was testing me. Seeing how gone I am for Rose. If she's worth it.

I don't have to tell him. Actions speak louder than words.

Mine are screaming.

Rose

The tears on my face dry as I stare at the door from where Noose stormed through.

I notice the scratchiness of the dress first and grimace. I want it off. How do I get different clothes?

Where is my phone?

I feel a disconnect like a mudslide inside my head. From myself. From my life. From everything I thought was solid.

It's
not
solid. Everything is in motion.

Arguing comes from outside the door. I hear a few choice curse words from a woman, then the owner of said voice bursts into the room.

I hop off the couch that sits beside an examining table. Medical equipment is neatly shelved and labeled. I've already looked at everything.

The woman who stands before me huffing in anger is like a bleached-blond tornado.

A biker guys stands outside the door, looking young and uncertain. “Don't fuck with this chick. She's Noose's.”

I shoot him my best dirty look. “I am not anyone's.”

This causes Angry Girl to smile like the cat that just swallowed the canary.

The guy shuts the door.
Coward.

I turn my attention back to the woman.

I'd thought my blue dress was the sluttiest thing ever made.

No.

Her hair is a blond so light, it's almost white. Dark-brown roots hold court at her hairline and run about four inches to meet all that pale hair.

She could be beautiful. Bright-green eyes narrow on me, taking in as much of me as I do of her. High cheekbones and a pouty mouth round out a face that is sprinkled with freckles across the bridge of her nose. She's fair, but not pasty. The blond hair does nothing for her, washing her out.

The body. Her boobs look too big for her frame. They don't move when she does.
Why would someone my age get their breasts done?
I have time to think,
like big boobs are so great.

Then she's sticking her finger in my chest.

I stagger backward.

“Listen, bitch.”

Holy crap.
“Stop!” I say, trying to inch away from her.

“I'm setting some shit straight.”

I blink, rubbing my chest where she nailed me. “What shit?”

She considers me. “Are you stupid or something? Repeating stuff?”

Despite what I've been through, I'm definitely not stupid. I'm tired, hungry, and sexually confused.

Very sexually confused.

I don't need to be a pincushion for some girl that's got the wrong idea. “I'm not dumb. And stop poking me. Say what you need to without-without touching me.”

Her lips curl.

I wait.

“I'm with Noose.”

Just like that, my gut drops off a cliff. “Oh,” I manage.

Her smile grows as she studies my expression. “He doesn't want a bitch with baggage. I don't have any. Sounds to me you got a whole bunch of luggage.” She crosses her arms, and her mounding, globe-like boobs squish together, creating the grand canyon of cleavage inside the red cut-out of her top.

“Ah—”

“So just blast off. He's MC. Ya know what that means, bank girl?”

Bank girl?
I think my IQ just dropped to double digits. I blink again.

“Yes,” I reply, thinking of Anna, remembering Drake's fingers plundering me. “I sure do.” I gulp the hard knot of fear, sadness, and hopelessness.

“Noose doesn't want difficult pussy. He doesn't want a bitch that's got a kid by some other stud horse. Got me?”

The pit in my stomach widens. I nod stupidly. “I have you.”

She turns and picks up something on the floor behind her. It's a sack I didn't notice she'd entered with.

“I have some shit for you.” She turns the bag upside down, and clothes land in a pile on the floor. She sniffs. It’s the first delicate action she's made during our entire interchange.

My throat narrows; unshed tears sear me. I won't let them come. Not if I can help it. Not in front of this girl Noose has apparently claimed.

I take an inhale that burns to my toes. “Thank you,” I say quietly.

A little of her bravado leaks away, and she cocks her head. “You seem like an okay girl.”

I stand there, naked and raw from my emotions.

“I want to give you some advice. You don't belong here. Live your perfect life outside of Road Kill. You'll be okay,” she states as though making a stab at reassurance.

She toes the clothes at my feet. “Don't have shit that'll cover that rack you got.” She snorts. “Your tits real?”

I look down at my breasts. “Yeah.”

Breathe, Rose, breathe.
Concentrate on taking breaths and letting them out.

“It'll get you out of that wasted thing. Prez told me to lend you some stuff.”

I nod, picking up a tiny g-string, socks, tennis shoes, jeans, and a T-shirt. I give the bra a doubtful look.

I keep my eyes wide so the tears won't fall. I look at the girl. “What's your name?”

She blinks as though confused. “Crystal.”

“Thank you,” I repeat.

“Yeah, okay.”

She turns to leave, and I stop her with my voice. “I don't have a perfect life.”

Crystal shrugs, leaving.

*

Surprisingly, the things Crystal gave me fit reasonably well. The shirt is way tighter than I like, and the bra barely covers my nipples, but I don't care a bit. It's so terrific to be liberated from the awful dress, I have no words for the feeling of relief.

Still, Crystal tore my heart out like a novice surgeon. No anesthetic, just brute force. I guess I needed it. I was starting to believe.

Believe Noose.

Believe in something outside myself.

Dumb, Rose.

I turn the knob on the door and push it open. The same guy looks down at me. All tough expression.

“I need to go home,” I say.

“Sure,” he says. “Let me clear it with Noose.”

I put my hand on his arm. “Things are complicated with Noose and I.”

His lips twist. “Yeah, I'm getting that.”

I sweep my eyes over him. He doesn't look like the rest of the bikers. “Are you a biker?”

He pulls a face that obviously says
you're a dumbshit.

I stiffen my spine.

“Yeah, I ride.” A lightbulb of understanding flickers over his features then is gone. “Oh, I'm a prospect.”

“A what?”

“I want to patch in—become a member of Road Kill.”

“Does that mean you can get me home?”

He's really confused now. “Yes,” he says slowly. “But I gotta clear it with Noose, or he'll string me up by the gonads.”

Okay.
“I'll tell him and come back here, okay?”

His eyes flick to some doors across the noisy club, and I squint through the haze of smoke and bodies. “Is Noose over there?”

He nods. “Can't miss the door. It's got a hangman's noose graphic.”

Wonderful.

“You clear it with him. I don't wanna catch flack.”

I nod, turning away.

Throughout the club, there are men and women twined around each other. Some guys are playing pool, but most have women on their laps. Sharing drinks. Laughing.

Doing other stuff.

I keep my eyes straight ahead of me, and I can feel their gazes pinned to my form as I walk, but no one says anything, thank God.

I enter a dimly lit hall, my eyes moving over the pictures attached to the doors.

On one of the doors is a classic hangman's noose. I straighten, wiping my damp palms on the borrowed jeans. I move forward with purpose.

The door is barely cracked.

I push it open just a bit with a fingertip, so nervous that I can barely stand it. I lick my lips, taking a deep breath. The space widens to about two inches. And there, in front of me is the girl who gave me the clothes.

I mean, I'm not sure it's Crystal because her face is planted on Noose's dick.

I sway.

My hand steadies me against the doorjamb.

Noose's strong hand is buried in her hair, and he's running her mouth down his cock.

He's not gentle.

I can't hear Crystal breathing. The only sound is the smacking of her mouth as it rims the tip of him only for him to slam her back down again.

I step back, very gently closing the door.

Turning, I walk back to the prospect in a numb, distant fog.

“You see Noose?”

I nod. Speech is impossible at the moment.

“He okay with it? You leaving?”

I have to think he's more than okay, since he couldn't wait to get a blow job the minute I rejected him.

I nod again, clear my throat, and croak, “Couldn't wait to get rid of me.”

He laughs. “Sounds like Noose.”

Perfect.
My stomach boils like it's filled with acid.

His eyes narrow, looking at my face, then he seems to think better of saying anything. “Follow me. We'll get you home all safe and sound.”

Safe and sound.

I don't think I'll ever feel safe again.