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Dakota
Speed’s been avoiding me, and I don’t know why.
It’s been a week since the shooting at Jameson’s. It’s the only thing anyone in the club talks about anymore—speculations over who did it, why, and whether or not this is going to lead to a turf war. The only thing that’s certain is that the attack didn’t come from any of the other clubs in the area, which is only a small blessing in the long run since not knowing what’s going on is almost as bad as knowing.
I tried to talk to Speed about it the day after the shooting happened. He completely blew me off, telling me he was too busy to talk—fair enough, there’s a lot to do around here. But then he continued to ignore me after he got back, and he hasn’t spoken to me since that night.
I should be used to this. Bikers do what they want, take what they want. I’m a club girl; I’m not naive.
But every time I think about the night, my mind goes back to how he helped everyone. To how he tried. And then my mind wanders to our kiss and I get warm inside in a way that I’ve never been about any man before—biker or otherwise. I thought at the very least Speed was interested ...
I groan. Sitting here at the bar, thinking about some guy that obviously was just trying to get a quickie in, is something that’s so cliché and pathetic, it almost hurts. I can’t believe that I’m letting myself get worked up over him, but as I toss back another drink and relish the burn of alcohol in my system, my head is full of thoughts about Speed.
This is so ridiculous.
There’s a peal of laughter that takes my attention, and I glance up. Like most nights, I’m not the only one at the bar that’s a part of the clubhouse. Lily’s sitting with a few of the other club girls, drinking and talking. Considering the fact that Lily’s the only one I’m really friends with, I go back to my drink and ignore their conversation, until I pick up on what they’re talking about.
“Yeah, so, Buckeye was telling me earlier, it’s not gonna be too long before they get the asshole that shot up Jameson’s,” Candy, a busty blonde, says.
“I don’t know why someone thought they would get away with doing that, anyway. Everyone knows it’s neutral territory. You don’t shoot neutral territory!” Sydney speaks up.
“And then poor Johnny. You know they’re gonna have a funeral for him in a few weeks? Chains is paying for it in full.”
I hear Lily scoff.
“If you ask me, Speed should be the one that’s shelling out money to pay for that funeral.”
The other girls go quiet, and I raise a brow. What the fuck is she talking about?
“Lily, why would you say something like that?” Candy says, a little quieter, but there’s that tone in her voice that says she’s all about the gossip that’s about to happen.
“Oh, come on.” Lily waves dismissively at Candy. “You heard what’s been said about everything. How the guy that did it basically called Speed out in front of everyone—that it was his fault.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “It’s a shame, really. He’s such a hunk, but if it wasn’t for him, Johnny wouldn’t be dead, and a bunch of people wouldn’t have gotten hurt—”
“Oh, that’s horseshit, and you know it’s horseshit, Lily.”
I don’t know what possess me to speak up. I’ve never argued with Lily—and I’ve never defended a biker before when there’s been shit talk going on around about him. They’re grown men, so why should or would I?
Lily looks at me, surprised that I was listening in and possibly more surprised that I’m sticking up for Speed. Then she scoffs.
“And why is it horseshit? You know what was said—”
“And I know that Speed did everything that he could to help people that night, too. If some psycho wants to shoot up a place, that’s on the psycho. But Speed saved a lot of lives that night. More people probably would have been hurt if he hadn’t gotten them out of the way and hidden them.”
“Or, maybe it was all a front so he could have an excuse to tuck tail and run.”
“You can’t possibly believe that.”
“What other explanation is there?”
“That it was the right thing to do.”
“It was the cowardly thing to do—”
I feel my fingers tightening around my glass before I realize that my arm is moving. But the inevitable is happening—me, tossing a drink into a very surprised Lily’s face, ice and all. It soaks her hair and ice slides down her front, making her screech from the cold and wet on her. She’s stunned, and for a moment, so am I. That is until she growls at me and lunges.
I’ve been in enough fights to know how to handle myself. A lot of girls starting out aren’t great at it. Going for the hair or letting your nails do the work for you is all well and good until you actually have to start defending yourself seriously.
Lily’s been a club girl longer than me and knows how to fight. So when we tumble to the floor, it’s not with scratches and pulled hair, it’s with flying fists.
I get clocked in the cheek, but I aim one right back and get Lily in the chin. I hear and feel her teeth clack together when my punch lands, and Lily yelps out a growl of pain—enough of a distraction that I roll us so I’m on top of her, slamming her down onto the floor.
Cheering and whoops fill my ears along with the rushing pump of blood pounding through my head. I don’t think about anything other than how enraged I am, how badly I need to prove something to Lily and everyone that’s watching. It doesn’t matter that there are bikers encouraging us and laying drunken bets on the winner of the fight, and it doesn’t matter that Lily is someone I consider a friend.
“You bitch!” she yells at me, shoving her hands against my stomach to try and force me off. It knocks the wind out of my lungs and I hunch over, coughing. My stomach hurts like all hell and I jab my elbow into hers out of retaliation. The bikers that have swarmed around us yell out excitedly, and I’m too busy dealing with Lily to realize that there’s a pair of bikers closing on us until a pair of arms wrap around my middle.
“Come on. What the hell are you two doing?”
It’s Speed.
Lily’s still snapping and snarling at me in Gear’s hold.
“Fuck you, Dakota!”
“Now, now, now.” Gear holds her up and out of the way, his voice almost patronizing as he rolls his eyes while he looks at me. The realization of what’s going on, and the fact that it’s in front of everyone, isn’t lost on me.
“Hey, you good? You all right?”
Speed’s voice sounds in my ears, and I flush. Instead of answering him, I knock his hands off and away from me and make a beeline for my room.
I have to push my way through the crowd, ignoring the disappointed protests from the others. I’m mortified; why the hell did I allow myself to basically put on a show for everyone? Over Speed? God, it’s so stupid!
Why are you getting into a tizzy over one dumb kiss with one dumb biker?
“’Kota!”
I groan, hearing Speed call for me. He must be following me, and at this point, it’s the worst thing he could be doing.
“Go away, Speed,” I mutter. Heading down the hall, I make a beeline for my room; maybe if I get there and snap the door shut on him, he’ll leave me alone. It’ll be tit for tat at this point, since he’s already done the same thing to me this week.
Is it petty? Yes. But I feel I’ve earned the right to be.
“No,” he says, coming up to me. He gets his hand on my arm and pulls me to turn around to him as soon as I get to my door. “What the hell is all this about? Why are you fighting—”
“Why is it any of your business—”
“Because there’s no reason for you to be getting into fights with people and it’s probably a stupid reason, too, I bet—”
“Oh, fuck you.” I jerk my arm out of his hold. I don’t even know why I’m angry. I don’t even know why we’re arguing. But there’s too much tension and too much electricity charging the air, and dammit, there’s just too much going on at once!
“Fuck me?” he repeats.
“Yeah,” I sneer. “Fuck you.”
Speed stares down at me, and I can’t tell if he’s pissed off at me or if he’s just annoyed. Whatever the case, he leans in, and so do I. I don’t want to back down, I don’t—
Stop him when he kisses me.
I gasp against his mouth, and he growls.
“Fuck me?” he repeats. “Fuck you, Dakota.”
There’s a lot going on. He’s kissing me, tugging at my lips. I’m slapping the shit out of his arm, but I’m not pulling away from him either as I part my lips for the intrusion of his tongue. In between it all, Speed gets my door open, and we tumble into my room in a pile on the floor. Somehow, I manage to kick my door closed.
“You’re such an annoying shit, Speed,” I snap between kisses. “You haven’t talked to me all week—”
He pins my hands down to the floor and bites into my neck—shutting me up by making me moan.
“That why you got into it with Lily, huh? Were you trying to get my attention?”
I hiss, rolling us over. I bite his bottom lip.
“I got into it because I was dumb enough to try and stop people from acting like you were a big, cowardly pussy for running out that night—I should have just let them talk shit!”
Speed grabs me again, pulling me down to him. His fingers tangle in my hair and pull. The pain is sweetly tingling, making me arch against him; his dick is already hard and I’m already warm and wet in my jeans.
What is this?
What is this angry, erotic passion? Whatever it is, I’m not denying it. I’m not pushing Speed away when he rolls us again, when it’s me on my back again and his cock pressed solidly between my legs. There are layers of fabric between the two of us, but I can still feel it. He’s massive, and rock hard, and in the flurry of us throwing insults at each other, we’re pulling at each other’s clothes.
“You should have,” he sneers at me. “Or maybe it wasn’t me you were trying to get attention from. Maybe it was Gear?”
I grab at his kutte, shoving it off his shoulders as his rough movements rip open my jeans.
“Maybe. Maybe his attention is better than yours.”
That makes Speed growl, something animalistic and fierce—possessive. Speed tugs my jeans down and pulls them off with a sweeping force that takes my shoes with them.
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you.”
His hands shove my thighs apart. He’s already got his buckle undone, his pants pushed low. I can see the end of a happy trail poking out, and the bulge at his front.
I shouldn’t be this excited. I shouldn’t be doing this. But I am. Speed Stiles has ignited something in me, and that something makes me angry and horny all at once.
“You want to play like that, huh?” he asks, his fingers hooking into my panties to move them aside. His other hand pulls out his cock—a hard, monstrous, pre-cum slicked length that makes me ache on sight.
I don’t let him know that.
Instead, I smirk up at him.
“Do you? If you think you can live up to all the hype. What? Does Gear challenge your idea of yourself—”
He’s between my legs. His cock head presses against me and then presses in, silencing me with a strangled groan. Tight, wet, I feel every single inch of him as he stretches me around him. I gasp at the entrance of him, clawing the floor at how suddenly filling it is. It takes my breath away and I could swear it’s enough to make me cum, but even though I’ve given into this, I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of undoing me.
Yet.
He grips my hips as he slides in fully—I hear him swear and feel his cock twitch inside me.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” Out, he draws himself, slowly. I can’t tell if it’s because of the tight fit or he’s wanting to torture me, but I get the impression it’s a little torture for him, too, when he doesn’t even pull out all the way before he’s sliding back in, hard.
“Ah!”
My head careens back and I arch. My legs go around him, and in a final moment of defiance, of spunk, I look at him.
“Well, if you’re gonna fuck me, fuck me, Speed. Unless you want me to fuck you—”
His hands plant on either side of my head, and he drives into me with growls and swears, like I’ve pissed him off and the only way to fix it is with his cock. It’s okay. The sensual brutality of it is given back in kind with my nails under his shirt and in his back, digging in and sliding down. I know I draw blood when I feel wet on my fingertips, and that just makes Speed drive into me harder.
Eventually we stop spitting venom at each other. Eventually, it’s just pants and swears, lip-bitten kisses and the buck of bodies against each other. It’s too hot with most of my clothes on, but all my focus is on Speed as he fucks the life out of me in the middle of my bedroom floor.
Gear was never like this—well, he was. Possessive. Hard. And he knew how to make me cum, but Speed knows how to make me lose it in a wild mess of sweat and pure satisfaction. Speed knows how to angle his hips so he hits those nice, deep places most men only dream of being able to pleasure. Speed knows how hard to go to make it feel good but not the bad kind of pain that takes all the enjoyment out of a good, rough fuck.
Speed bites my neck and sucks my pulse, and he makes me cum without even touching my clit, again, and again, and again.
My body is rocked with spasms, twitching, alight with electricity, and I cling to him and buck against him, begging for his release with mine. I’ve forgotten all about my fight—all I know right now is Speed Stiles goes above and beyond expectation and the tingling in my lower half is a testament to that.
“Fuck, don’t stop,” I growl out. “Don’t stop ... holy shit ... cum ... cum—”