P: Need you to come in and do the books. Early. Shit’s piling up real quick.
Obviously it’s code. Even with a burner we’re not dumb enough to take that kind of risk. “Doing the books” means I need you to come kill some motherfucker, and “Shit’s piling up real quick” means he needs that motherfucker dead. Yesterday.
T: Kinda got my hands full this mornin’.
P: Not my fuckin’ problem. Got no one I can spare. Get your arse in here.
Stupid. Of course he has no one else he can spare. There’s no one else he’d trust enough to send out on the jobs that I do. The boys go out all the time on runs; people wind up dead and they cover the evidence well enough, shoot anyone who might snitch to the cops, and get rid of anything that might lead the Feds back to the club. But Prez will only send me out on a job where the mark might be expecting it. Which means it’ll be bloody, messy, and fuckin’ dangerous. Jesus. So much for a lazy weekend.
I set the metal sheet back inside the safe and close it, sliding the boxes in front of it again, and I pull on an old pair of jeans and a black shirt that can be burned afterward. Then I stand in the doorway and watch Ivy sleep. She’s facing me. Her hair is splayed out all around her and there’s a wet patch on my pillow where her drool is soaking the fabric. So fuckin’ cute. I could spend all damn day lookin’ at her, but Prez will cut off my balls if I don’t haul arse to the clubhouse. I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do with her though. Can’t leave her here alone. Can’t take her to the clubhouse, and I can’t call someone in—yeah, because that worked so well the first time.
There’s only one option here. And she ain’t gonna like it one bit.
Ten minutes later I return from the garage and set my shit down behind the big wing-backed armchair in my room. I throw open the curtains. “Rise and shine, Warrior Princess.”
She moans and rolls over, throwing the pillow over her head with a grunt. Her arse is out of the covers and I tilt my head to the side in order to see her pussy better, then I lick my lips and move towards the bed. Ivy pokes her head up and glares at me. “Go away.”
“Can’t. I’m up,” I say, pointedly staring at the hard-on tryin’ to bust its way out of my jeans. “So you gotta be up, too.”
“Fuck you.”
I laugh. “You really shouldn’t tempt me.”
Ivy rolls away from me, covering her eyes from the window with the crook of her elbow. I climb onto the bed, and lower my head to her pert little arse and that fuckin’ delectable pussy that I haven’t had for far too long. I sweep my tongue along the length of her, from arsehole to clit, and then I shift closer, and bury my face deeper. She tilts her hips, squirms, but she doesn’t pull away, and she doesn’t try to stop me. In fact, it’s just the opposite.
I use my whole face to push her closer to the brink—my mouth, beard, even my fuckin’ nose is all up in her shit, and she’s lovin’ every second of it, if her moans and her fingers clawing at my scalp are anything to go by.
“Oh. Tank, oh yes, right fucking there.”
I listen to her breathing. The ragged inhalation and the soft moans as her breath catches in her throat tell me she’s close. I pull away and get to my feet, dragging her to the end of the bed and hoisting her up over my shoulder. She cries out in protest. “Why the hell did you stop?”
“Shut up,” I say, and dump her into the chair. Ivy squeals, and attempts to get up, but when she sees the need on my face she gives me a shy smile—rare for her—and drapes her legs over the arms, opening for me. I go to work, licking and sucking, shoving my fingers inside her.
I finger-bang her rough and hard, ensuring I catch that little soft spot inside her that makes her come undone. She shudders, trembling head to toe, her legs quaking in that uncontrollable way that women sometimes do if you treat them real nice. Her hands claw at my scalp, and I wince. I’m gonna have gouges in my skull soon if she doesn’t knock it off. Ivy throws her head back, her hips pumping in time with my thrusts.
“Oh God. I’m going to come.” She pants. I pull my fingers from her body and lick them clean, and then I ignore the obscenities she hurls at me as I pick up the rope that I dumped there earlier. Gently, I push her back against the chair. “What are you doing?”
“Making this fun,” I say.
She shakes her head, and replies in a breathless tone that has my cock jerkin’ in my pants. “I thought it already was?”
“Then I’m making it more fun,” I deadpan.
“Are you going to fuck me?” she whispers, and though I know she said she doesn’t want to, she looks hopeful.
“No,” I say, leaning down and kissing her mouth, because I can’t help myself. I want her to taste herself on my lips. I want her to understand how fuckin’ completely she possesses me. But that’s not why we’re here. I wrap the rope tightly around her body, crisscrossing it over her chest and around the back of the chair. She giggles as it slides over her breasts and slips into place beneath her big, beautiful tits.
“Tank I need to come,” she whispers.
“I know, baby, but you’re gonna have to wait a little longer,” I say, tying off the rope at the back of the chair and testing its strength. It’ll hold.
“What?”
“I got club business, and you can’t be trusted not to leave.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Her tone is low and bursting with bitterness.
“Wish I was. And I wish to fuck I didn’t have to run out and leave you like this, because fuck me, I want inside you so bad right now.”
She wriggles against her restraints. Let her try. She ain’t gettin’ outta that hold. I’ve done it a thousand times, tied up fuckers this way. Tied ’em to chairs, or strung them from a hook in the ceiling and split their bellies open, until everything just falls out on the floor, a putrid mess of stinkin’ bowels, guts and blood. They shake as they watch on in horror and disbelief. Of course they don’t watch on for long. Nobody ever got out of one of my ropes, and they all had a lot more to lose than Ivy.
“You can’t leave me here, Tank,” she says.
“Actually, I can.” I kiss the top of her head and she yanks away from me, but her restraints keep her from going very far.
“Tank. Fuck. Tank, don’t leave me here like this. Tank!” she shouts, and I won’t lie, the sound practically breaks me in half, but I got a job to do and I’m not risking her runnin’ again. Last time I found her out in the middle of the road, high as a fuckin’ kite. It’s been a few days since that headfuck. Some things have changed, some haven’t, and I don’t know with one hundred per cent certainty that she would run again, but I can’t say that she wouldn’t either. And that’s enough for me.
Ivy’s a resourceful girl; she may not have any money, a phone, or a whole lot of self-preservation, but she’s got a killer rack, legs that go on for days and the sweetest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting. It wouldn’t take her very long to find trouble. Trouble would happily find her in a heartbeat. And what’s more, she’d probably like it.
I can’t risk that shit again. No. This way she might be mad, but she’ll still be fucking me by the end of the day, because I don’t plan to just untie her when I get home. I’m going to take that fuckin’ pussy any way I want, and she’s gonna damn well fuckin’ enjoy it. I’ll make sure of it, ’cause I’m done fucking playin’ games with her. I want her so bad my balls ache, but I want more than that too—I want the fuckin’ bullshit fairy-tale. I don’t just want to possess her body; I want her heart, too. Which means I’m fuckin’ screwed. Any way you paint that shit, I’m screwed.