Chapter Twelve

The engine of Razor’s favorite Harley echoed off the walls dick-hardening loud as he revved it over and over out of sheer frustration.

He wanted to punch something, to hear the satisfying sound of pain-filled grunts—his or an opponent’s, it wouldn’t matter at this point. He just needed to feel anything other than…this.

Confusion, frustration, anger? Who the fuck knew, maybe all of the above.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting on his bike replaying everything that had gone down with Sasha, all the while willing his erection to die. He was still trying to decide whether he was angry because he was hard for her, even after she acted like such a brat, or if he was hard because she made him so damn angry.

His brain hurt from trying to sort through all his emotions.

After leaving the two Reapers in the alley, he had come back to the Night House—which had been closer than his house—gone up to his private rooms, and jerked off. Twice.

But the small respite had lasted less than ten unsatisfying minutes. Sin had called shortly after his second orgasm to tell him they had found another melted body.

Peachy, he had thought as he’d wiped the come off his hand.

There had to be something he was missing. Some clue, some link he was overlooking. But what? He had puzzle pieces, but none were lining up.

Snarling, he ran a hand over his skull. I need a smoke. He reached to the leather pouch on his bike for his smokes, giving his hard cock the middle finger on the way.

How long ago had he sworn that he would keep it all business with Sasha? But there he’d been anyway, not hours ago, licking her up like she was his. And she most certainly wasn’t. Yet, he couldn’t say that the idea hadn’t sounded better and better the longer he’d let it bounce around in his skull. What he should have done was torn it from his mind the moment it had come into existence. Then again, Razor had never said he was smart.

She hadn’t smelled too opposed to the idea, either, now had she? his mind supplied kindly.

No, she hadn’t. But he really didn’t need to be reminded of that right now. Sasha might not have begged for his touch, but the scent of her arousal had definitely been there. It had caught him completely off guard. When they’d shared that passionate kiss, and again when he’d held her just a while ago, he had thought he’d detected warm arousal building within her. It’d been so brief and so elusive, though, that afterwards he had convinced himself that it had been his imagination.

Inhaling deeply again, he swallowed slowly. Goddess, there was still a resonance of her taste on his tongue and in his nose…

His skin shivered as he felt his beast move behind his skin, a whiny yip leaving its snout. It was a demand for more of her. Yeah, welcome to the fucking club, buddy. The line starts behind me.

A door banged open somewhere in the distance. Razor was up and off his bike a breath later, his smoke forgotten.

A rumble vibrated in his chest as his frustration grew to annoyance that someone had interrupted his sulking.

He listened carefully as the intruder moved closer. The light but angry stomping didn’t belong to any of his brothers. He pulled off his leather riding gloves, and then his rifle was in his hands a second later.

Aiming in the direction of the footsteps, he prepared to shoot first and ask questions later. The thought almost made him reel back in shock. He held steady, even as he blinked several times, attempting to push back the disconcerting idea that he was losing his edge as judge. Razor had never gone around contemplating killing random people over nothing more than intruding on his personal time.

Even as he told himself that the person walking in his direction could be nothing more than a club employee sent here by one of his brothers, an aggressive sort of force made Razor’s hold on the rifle tighten. His finger slid to the trigger.

Not even when the scent of thunderstorm hit him did his aggression wane. He was breathing heavily by the time Sasha rounded the corner. He couldn’t stop himself from snarling at her. What the fuck was she doing here? Was she here to insult him some more? If that was her purpose for seeking him out, then she’d better think twice. There were too many dark emotions battling for supremacy inside him. He couldn’t say that if she didn’t turn back, he’d be able to guarantee that either of them would walk out of this parking garage unscathed.

Sasha’s incredible turquoise eyes locked on his where he stood. Razor lowered his rifle. Vicious anger washed over him as he gazed at equally angry eyes. What the fuck was she so mad about? He’d apologized to her, hadn’t he? Even though he still didn’t know what great offense he’d committed back at the alley.

Neither of them said anything—words felt unnecessary when their eyes were doing all the talking—as she marched up to him, strides livid, beautiful eyes looking at him like she wanted to slit his throat while devouring his mouth.

Goddess, with this fucking hard-on he had for her, he’d probably let her. And what the fucking Hellfire, she was giving him whiplash! One minute she cursed the day he was whelped, and the next she looked at him like…like that.

As if she weren’t quite sure if she should kill him or fuck him. Or fuck him first and then kill him.

What game was she playing? Did she think she could fuck with his head like this?

Razor snarled in warning as she strode closer. When she failed to heed it, and only kept coming, he put down the rifle. The Goddess knew he was pissed, but he could never hurt her.

She came at him then, swift and violent. With jabs and kicks and swipes of her nails. She was fighting dirty, and she knew it. He didn’t stop her, though. He didn’t even block any of her punches. It was too satisfying to see her this way—just as fucked up over him as he was over her.

However, there was another reason why he was letting himself be her punching bag. The instant she’d crossed the line between polite arm’s length and personal space, the smell of her excitement had hit him like an ocean wave. She was just as aroused. The scent engulfed him completely and his body responded in kind.

The air was so thick with it, a blend of their combined desire, resentment, frustration, anger, and violence. It was all he could do not to pick her up and put her on hands and knees and fuck her from behind just so he could spank her at the same time for being such a pain in his ass.

That mental image pulled a deep growl from his chest.

Razor’s heart was beating so hard he was sure his cock was matching the rhythm and visibly jumping behind the fly of his jeans. Breathing heavily, nostrils flaring, he stood there and took what Sasha was dishing out.

More of her sweet smell hit his nose, and he had had enough. He was done with nice.

Fuck this.

He was taking what they both so obviously wanted, and if he lost a nut, or his heart, in the process, then so be it.

When she moved to hit him again, he caught her fist, gripping it tighter than was probably necessary. She snarled at him, and more of her need rushed up and surrounded him. It pulled a groan from deep in his chest, and his cock pulsed in answer. He needed her so damn badly.

“You’re out of freebies, pretty girl.”

In one swift move, he had his hand buried in her curly hair and was pulling her up for a kiss. She eagerly moved with him. Their mouths crashed at the same time, and they groaned into each other’s mouths.

The kiss was all desperation and anger. It was a little mean and rough, but he knew neither of them would have had it any other way.

Reaching down with one hand, he cupped an ass cheek and squeezed until she whimpered in either pain or pleasure—he wasn’t entirely sure. It was hard to tell at this point. Not only that, they were both making such an effort to physically hurt the other and drive each other wild with want that the line between hate and lust might as well have been non-existent: Razor with his tight hold on any part of her he could reach, and Sasha with her nails digging deep into the back of his neck and scalp, her teeth biting down hard on his lips and tongue.

When the need to breathe won out over his need to possess her and be possessed by her, he pulled back. But he didn’t let go. Sasha was here, in his arms, on his tongue, and under his skin, and he was taking as much as she was willing to give. For a moment they stared at each other, breathing heavily. When she didn’t push him back, he went in for another kiss.

When her hands unlocked from around his neck and smoothed down his chest, he used the opportunity to move his hands to her nape. The hold was possessive as fuck, and it didn’t seem to faze either of them. He twisted their bodies around to walk her backwards until her ass was against the seat of his Harley.

Sasha had remained surprisingly docile, if one could even use that term in relation to her. Her sea-colored eyes looked up at him with both submission and a promise of retribution. The painful kind. Bring it on.

He stole another kiss, her mouth following his lips when he backed off.

“Turn around and bend over,” he ordered, unable to get the growl out of his voice. He was pleasantly surprised when she readily obeyed. Goddess, was this really happening?

Leaning down until his hands were flat next to where her forearms rested on the leather seat, he put his lips to her ear, and for a moment, simply enjoyed her scent, and the feeling of having her welcome his body so close to hers, sharing her heat. He knew he was trembling, but then so was she.

“I want to fuck you,” he confessed, his hips rocking into her ass almost on their own volition. She moaned, arching her spine. The action screamed Yes!, but he needed to hear her say it. “If you don’t want me inside you, you need to say, ‘Stop, Razor,’ in the next few seconds. Or you can say nothing, and I’ll just take the scent of your wet pussy as my invitation.”