She’s staring out the window. That fucking hoody blocking her face. I’m going to burn that fucking piece of clothing, it’s driving me crazy. I can’t see her.
I can’t fucking tell if she’s upset or what.
We were walking toward my bike when I saw Falon standing on the porch outside. It’s like she was waiting to see what I was going to do, and if I’m being honest, I was putting Beggar’s ass on the back of my bike.
It was what I wanted, it just felt normal. Beggar was walking in front of me and that’s where she was headed too.
One glimpse at Falon’s hurt face had me turning around and going to my Jeep instead. My words were clipped when I told Beggar to get her ass in the car.
The hood covering her face served as a barrier between us even as she did what I asked and I hated that something I did caused that.
I felt her stiffen when we jumped in the cage.
I’m not even sure why I care. These feelings are driving me up the wall.
I don’t wanna feel this shit. I’ve been conditioned not to feel, not to care. But this girl, this girl just conjures up something in me and I fucking hate her for it.
Beggar felt something earlier in the barn. Her body was begging me for everything and more.
I’m a man. It’s why I got so close to her, why I inhaled her airy scent, no other reason.
She pretends she’s all anti-men but It’s an act, it has to be. No one has done that to me, no woman has ever made me want her beyond reasoning. That was seduction she did in there, a pure golden temptress.
Her skin didn’t flush as she tilted her neck in that way and lowered her eyes, her lips parting.
I adjust my position on the seat. My cock is almost fully erect by that image.
I glance at her from the corner of my eyes. Her face is glued to the window and I know the views for shit.
Something happened in the Barn. The temptress became a guarded soul but only after she sniffed me, spat on the ground and stormed out.
My feet and pride had me turning and going after her. I’ve never chased after a woman besides Falon and for good reason. Yet, I sure as shit wanted to know what happened in there, even if I was just pissed that she was the one unaffected and I was the one with blue balls.
After one look at that ass in those jeans my anger was forgotten. The girl is sure as shit thin, but damn if she doesn’t have an ass. And I was watching it move as she walked, like a man possessed.
No hesitance in her movements, no extra sway in those hips. Nothing. She was walking naturally but that ass.
I don’t have to wonder if she knows how fucking sexy her ass is when she’s marching.
It has a slight jiggle, flesh to grab, unlike the rest of her body.
If she knew, there’s no way she would be living on the street.
Some man would be a lucky bastard one day, that’s for damn sure.
Killers face flashes in my mind just out of nowhere.
I chance another look at her.
A million questions and scenarios come to mind. But there are three questions screaming in my head louder than the others.
Could Beggar want Killer?
Need him?
Is she really submissive?
Killer turned Venus down this morning to spend his time playing watch dog for Beggar. When Spade shared that shit with me this morning, I was speechless.
Killer’s an emotionless bastard most of the time and that’s on his good days. He has never turned down sex for anyone.
The thought of the two of them together has me squeezing the steering wheel tighter.
Keep it together.
This isn’t good.
My jaw clenches and though my vision never fades I know I’m going to break the steering wheel.
I can feel the strain my fingers are putting on the car part, it’s almost there, at breaking point.
Years of training as a hunter in the special ops taught me the signs of knowing when I’m losing it.
And there’s no doubt in my mind that my rational thoughts are slipping away.
This is really not good. We’re in the middle of the freeway.
I know not to blame myself. I never know what’s going to trigger me losing my shit.
I never know what’s going to turn me into the cold heartless hunter I’m trained to be.
I just know I need to keep Beggar safe, keep her safe from me.
I go into auto pilot.
The first thing I do is assess my situation.
If I stop the cage, I’m going to have Beggar on the trunk of it with her legs splayed open.
Me, balls deep inside her snatch and I’m not going to be able to stop for hours. She isn’t going to be safe.
No, not safe at all.
If I talk to her first then she’s going to win and that might just end in the same way, me in between those thighs.
Shaking my head, I try to clear my thoughts.
There isn’t many options left.
After a minute I do the only other thing I can do, I put my foot on the accelerator needing to feel in control.
I can keep her safe, I’m in control. I repeat the mantra silently.
The window goes down and I increase the volume of the song,
‘Kick it in the sticks’ by Brentley Gilbert. How fucking fetching.
She doesn’t make a sound or say a word and that just pisses me off more. She’s okay with not talking to me. Why the fuck does it piss me off?
I don’t like it.
She should want to say something.
Ask me something.
“You don’t have to yell, and put that damn song softer.” She snaps.
It takes me a minute to register I said it out loud.
“Then why are you so fucking quiet, you talk to Killer and Storm.” The accusatory tone of my voice is stark. But I’m beyond caring at this moment.
I focus on the road, drop the music from the buttons on the steering wheel but not the speed. All the while my body is waging a war within itself.
“Storm is easy to talk to and Killer is just, persistent.” She’s so honest.
But I also know she can be a good liar. All homeless people are.
“And me?” I take my eyes off the empty road to glance at her. Her face is still facing the Window.
“Not easy to talk to,” She rasps dryly in her deep baritone like it’s so obvious.
I smirk and my body starts to calm itself down but I stay silent as I make the turn into the gravel road and park by the entrance of the park.
“I’m not that bad, ask me something.” My eyes steady on her hooded face that is still facing the open window.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Ask me!” I snap.
“Stop shouting at me like I’m an imbecile. I don’t wanna ask you any question. I don’t wanna know anything about you.”
“Why not?”
She’s quiet seeming to consider her answer.
“You keep bossing me around to do what you want when you want but then you treat me like a plague. It’s clear you don’t want me here.”
The retort is on my lips, but she sighs shaking her hooded head.
“I get it. I’m a filthy beggar from the streets, a dirt-poor shady female that won’t tell you her name, living with your people. It’s bound to cause problems Zero. But I’m no threat to your club, and me keeping my shit private is keeping my promise.” Her deep dry voice never wavers or rises and she never drops her hood.
I start to say something, I’m not even certain what, I just know those words don’t gel well with me.
My phone flashes with Falon’s name interrupting me. I disconnect the call and switch my phone off.
I fling it on the dashboard and rake my hands into my hair before my finger slides across the scar under my eye.
My scar is a reminder to never trust easily, never let my guard down long enough for anyone besides the hand full of people I trust to see past the walls I’ve created.
The silence in the car would be deafening if not for my harsh breathing.
The park is dead this time of day, it’s why I picked it to explain stuff to Beggar.
“You ain’t planning on leaving me here are you.”
My hand is on the door and my entire body stiffens when she asks me that.
Not only does she think that I consider her a filthy beggar but she thinks I’m an asshole that will chuck a female in a foreign place to fend for herself.
It’s the second time I’ve heard that vulnerable tinge in her voice and it fucking guts me until I have this sick knot twisting in my stomach, because I know it’s coming from a strong woman who was broken beyond compare.
I turn to look at her, and I lose my thoughts, I lose my hearing, my feeling, everything except my eyes.
Her hood is down and her black guarded eyes are staring directly at me.
Something starts to take hold of me, something otherworldly and unexplainable pushing me to protect this girl, to know her, see her, own her, save her.
I can’t take my eyes off her; I know that’s exactly what I should do.
This is wrong, she’s a beggar and I’m a taken man. But a small voice whisper, mine.
“I’ll never leave you.”
The sharp intake of her breath and widened eyes brings me back to my senses and what I said.
I clear my throat.
“I’m the Enforcer and you’re one of us. As a member of The Satan Snipers, you have the club’s protection like everyone else.”
The relief in her shoulders is a good reminder of how she became one of us and why I should stay away from her, if not physically then mentally.
I just need to keep reminding myself that and pray I make it through this with my rational thoughts intact.
After all, I am the fucking Enforcer of the club.
Beggar is still a girl full of secrets and we know nothing about her but what she shared. She could be a hired spy, just playing the part well.
I need to keep my head straight.
When we get back to the club, I got a woman to claim, and her name sure as shit ain’t Beggar.