Pound of Flesh Page 4

  Her beaming smile almost makes me crash the van. “Sounds great.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I’ve rented a motel room at an hourly rate, snarling at the clerk when he got a speculative look in his eye, and led Delilah into the room so she can clean up. The motel is located across the street from the strip mall, so we’ll only need to walk a few minutes afterward to the bar and grill I spotted. Thank God I have a nice pile of cash saved up until I can open my business. If I didn’t have the scratch to treat Delilah how she deserves, I would have lost my damn mind.

  I’m tempted as fuck to join Delilah in the shower, but after seeing spots of her virgin blood on the sheets, I’m worried about pushing her too hard, too soon. So I’m standing guard outside the motel room instead, with my cock tenting the front of my pants. My hard-on starts to lose steam, though, when it occurs to me Delilah could be sore in there. Or hurt. Didn’t even think to ask her, did I?

  With a curse, I head back to the motel’s front office, kicking open the door. “Painkillers. Hand them over. And an ice pack if you got it.”

  By the time I make it back to the room, Delilah is walking out, her backpack hoisted over her shoulder. She looks nervous until she sees me, then her slight shoulders relax. “I thought you’d taken off on me.”

  “Never.” I tilt her chin up with my fingers. “Went to get you some painkillers. Took me two minutes. And I didn’t even like leaving you that long.”

  The wind blows a strand of blonde hair across her blushing cheeks, and that’s when I finally see what she’s wearing. Some dainty little dress with blue and white flowers all over it, the hem skimming the tops of her tan thighs. My erection roars back like a vengeful demon, my hands itching to lift the skirt and get a peek underneath. “What the hell happened to your boy clothes?”

  My tone of voice makes her flush deepen, but it’s with irritation instead of pleasure. “I packed some of them, but I…”

  “You what?”

  “For some reason I brought this dress along.” Her voice drops to a rushing whisper. “I’ve never worn it before, but I have you around to protect me now, so I didn’t think I needed to hide…”

  “You don’t.” Regret and pride war inside me. “You look a little too sexy in it is all. Sweet, too. Men get ideas when young girls wear dresses like that. I want to be the only one who has ideas around you.”

  Her voice sounds breathy and uneven when she finally responds. “Why are you holding an ice pack?”

  “To ice down your pussy,” I murmur. “See? Ideas.”

  “Thoughtful ones,” she whispers, stepping closer. “Will you take me out and feed me in this pretty dress, please, Raider? Shouldn’t I look nice on my very first date?”

  “First date, huh?” Goddamn, I might have to beat my chest a third time. Later, though. Right now, I slide my fingers into her hair, tugging until her head falls back, giving me a mouthwatering view of her smooth neck, the perky tits swelling against the front of her dress. “Do you have a curfew?”

  “I don’t know.” Her thighs writhe; the pulse pounds at the base of her neck. “You’ll have to ask my daddy.”

  “Fuck.” I drop my mouth down, stopping an inch above hers, letting her sweet breath puff against my lips. “You keep talking like that, an ice pack isn’t going to do shit for you.”

  We stare at one another for heavy, hungry moments. Moments I swear I’m losing my tether on reality, my focus narrowing down to nothing except this girl. This chance fate is giving me to be her provider, lover. Her man. There’s nothing keeping me from dragging her back into the room and banging her doggy style on the cheap bed. She’s asking me for it with her eyes, the tits she’s putting on display for my starved eyes. But then I hear her stomach growl and instinct, protectiveness, duty takes over. Much as it pains me, I have to put her wellbeing above everything.

  For the rest of my life.

  God help anyone who tries to stop me.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Delilah

  Call it Stockholm syndrome, call it whatever you darn well please, but I’m on cloud nine walking into the bar with Raider. His hand is settled right on top of my backside, like he owns me. At the intersection, he stopped to bend down and kiss my cheek. I’m fluttering up a storm in my stomach thinking about spending time with him. Not to mention what comes later. Judging from the bulge he’s sporting, I’m guessing it won’t be long before my ankles are back up around my ears.

  As if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, he swats my bottom, then rubs the stinging spot with his big, meaty mitt, adding a grunt for good measure. Good lord, the giant is growing on me. Fast. Too fast?

  The way I was raised, I had no option but to be independent. I plan to keep it that way, but there’s no law that says I can’t bask in the cherishing way this man treats me. It’s like trekking through a desert for eighteen years only to be placed in a hammock and served some lemonade. I’m not going to second guess my enjoyment of him. Of…us.

  Can there be an us so soon? Raider doesn’t seem inclined to let me go any time soon, but if I’ve learned anything from watching my brother and his friends go through women like water, it’s that men can be fickle creatures. Raider doesn’t strike me as the type to change his mind once it’s made up, but I have to keep on guard.

  Just in case.

  When I pass through the door Raider is holding for me and get a good look at the restaurant, a touch of my excitement dims. It’s the restaurant equivalent of the neighborhood we were in last night—dingy, dark and full of dickheads. I’ve begun to grow accustomed to Raider’s size and general scariness, so it takes me a moment to realize why the whole establishment goes silent when we walk in. They’re ogling him, as if he escaped from the circus, some of the men at the bar going so far as to point.

  Pumping my backbone full of steel, I send the rude patrons a scowl and take Raider’s hand, leading him to a booth in plain view of the bar. It’s still dark—the whole place feels bathed in nighttime—but it’s not hidden in the least.

  Behind me, he clears his throat. “Wouldn’t you rather sit in back?”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine right here.”

  A waitress comes over with a couple of menus, acting like she’s heading for the gallows, before standing with her head bowed meekly over her pad. “Uh. G-get you folks anything?”

  I lift my chin. “Whiskey for me, please. Neat.”

  Raider lets his displeasure over my illegal order show on his frowning face, but I widen my eyes to keep him from commenting that I’m not old enough for liquor. “Coke for me. I’m driving,” he mutters. “Burgers sound good?”

  “Yes, please. One for me. Five for him,” I answer, giving the waitress my sweetest smile. “He’s a growing boy.”

  She turns on a heel and disappears into the kitchen so fast, I start to giggle. And then something incredible happens. Raider laughs, too. It’s nothing more than a rusty rumble tumbling around in his chest, but it makes him beautiful for a brief flickering moment, before his face rests back into its grimace. Immediately, I want more of that laugh. Want it so bad, my stomach hurts.

  “There’s only one good thing about people staring at me,” Raider says. “It means they’re not looking at you.”

  “Don’t pay them any attention.” I turn my head toward the bar and stick out my tongue. “They’re just jealous that you’ll know when it’s raining ten seconds before they do.”

  His lips twitch, but his eyes start to look a little sad. “You were scared when you first saw me.”

  Beneath the table, I kick off my ballet flat and rub his shin with my bare foot. “That’s before I knew how gentle you could be.”

  “Gentle doesn’t call for ice packs, doll.”

  I reach his knee and slide my foot into his lap. “Your type of gentle does.”

  He catches my foot and rubs a thumb along my arch, slow and sensual, so it catches me off guard when his fist locks around my ankle in a firm grip. “For a long time I was locked inside
a place where manners don’t exist, Delilah. Please, don’t tempt the beast. He’s right below the surface wanting to play daddy.”

  Heat gathers in my tummy, running down along the insides of my thighs, but the dark plea in his expression makes me take my foot back, sliding it into my shoe once more. It dawns on me that he doesn’t want to make a scene. Especially in a room full of people who already made him feel on display. That realization makes my heart ache for him. “Earlier you called your Pontiac GTO a she.” The waitress returns, setting down our drinks, and I take a long, burning sip of whiskey, handily ignoring Raider’s disapproval. “It sounds like you two are in a serious relationship. Should I be jealous?”

  “You’ll never spend one goddamn second jealous while I’m your man.” He pauses, as if wanting that statement to sink in…and boy, does it. Right down to my toes. “My Pontiac. Yeah, she’s a beauty. Red leather interior. A convertible, which means my big ass fits inside.”

  Hearing his voice warm with enthusiasm, seeing his green eyes sparkle, is showing me a whole new side to Raider. A side I like a lot. “You going to give me a ride in it?”

  “Of course.” He nods once and glances away. “If I decide to keep her.”

  “Why would you sell a car you love so much?”

  “Money.” The scars on his cheek pull taut. “I planned to use the money your brother was holding to open a garage. Classic car repairs. Detailing.” He shrugs. “Might have to sell the Pontiac instead. I’ve already got offers, but I’ve been turning them down.”

  “Roger will—” Automatically, I start to say my brother will come through with the cash, but I cut myself off. Because if my brother does cough up the money, I’ll no longer be considered collateral. My relationship with Raider will be based on free will. What will happen then? Moreover, what will happen if Roger doesn’t make the deadline? Will Raider keep me forever…or is this temporary, just like every other relationship I’ve ever been around?

  I start to change the subject, but a group of four men walks into the bar. Right away, I know something is odd about their arrival. When they trade looks with the bartender, who nods in our direction, my theory is proven correct. Raider sees it happen, too, but merely watches from beneath hooded eyelids as the newcomers take a seat near us, leaning back in their chairs like they’re paying a social call. And they stare from beneath the brims of their trucker hats. Right at us. There’s a tick in Raider’s cheek that seems to match my rapidly increasing heartbeat. Scratchy honky-tonk music wails from an old jukebox, but not a soul is saying a word.

  So I decide it’s my job. “You want to take a picture, assholes?”

  “Delilah.” Raider’s voice is firm. “Come over here by me.”

  I stand to do as he says, but the four men stand at the same time. “Now, hold on one second, little lady.” Raider starts to growl, and the speaker flinches, one hand disappearing to the back of his waistband. “We’re just here on behalf of a few concerned souls. If you’re in trouble or this fella is keeping you against your will, just let us know and we’ll handle it.”

  “Like fuck you will,” Raider intones darkly, turning the force of his violent stare on the men. “I’m only giving you one warning to stop speaking to her.”

  I’m so stunned by what’s happening that I have to shake myself. “Hey. Wait a damn minute. I’m with him because I want to be.”

  Two of the men snicker, the other two shaking their heads. “Now you can’t expect me to believe…” The speaker’s attention drops to my legs, roving lazily higher to my breasts. “A pretty little thing like you took up with him of your own free will. We’re trying to help. Just come on along with us—”

  “Mine.” Raider’s fist comes down so hard on the table, it splits straight down the center, sending wood crashing to the floor. And out come the guns. Four of them. Pointed right at Raider. “I warned you.”

  “No! No, wait.” Raider looks determined to walk straight into the line of fire in order to get his hands on those men. I have a pretty high suspicion Raider could survive a few bullets and take on those four pencil dicks, but I’m not chancing it. No, I can’t let him get hurt. Nor can I let their terrible judgment of him stand. So he’s huge and terrifying! He should still be able to have a burger and a Coke in peace.

  I don’t have time to come up with a master plan, so I do what comes instinctively to convince these men I’m truly not being held captive by Raider. Stepping over the ruined lumber, I close the distance between myself and Raider, where he’s just beginning to rise from his seat.

  I straddle his lap, lock my legs up around his impossibly broad waist…and I go for broke kissing him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Raider

  The bright red rage in my head sputters and swerves like a derailing train. My violent vengeance meter is at a ten when Delilah climbs onto my lap and settles those soft, pretty lips on mine. My muscles are tight to bursting, possessiveness raging so loud in my chest it would deafen the world if played over a radio. No one is taking my girl. They’ve earned a loss of blood just from the way they looked at her. As though she were on the menu right alongside those burgers.

  I knew bringing Delilah to a restaurant was a risk. Just like I told her before, no one in their right goddamn mind would believe a beautiful doll like her would go anywhere with the likes of me. Not without a fight. But I’m keeping her, and I aim to make her happy, so I’d reasoned that eventually we’d have to go out in public. Should have known something like this would happen. Should have known men would covet what’s mine and try to challenge me. It’s the nature of the beast, being a giant freak. The little pricks of the world are always trying to take me down.

  Keyword: trying.

  Any minute now, I’m going to walk over to that table and use one chicken-necked weasel for batting practice. His friends’ heads are going to be the baseballs. Right. Any minute now.

  Only problem is, I can’t seem to gather enough willpower to break this kiss with Delilah. I’m keeping one watchful eye trained on my challengers, promising them swift retribution if they make one wrong move, but…

  Shit. Her little tongue is sliding along mine, her palms cupping my cheeks, fingertips brushing my scars. Tracing them, even, in a gentle way that forces my violence to ebb against my will. While that tide flows out, another one comes racing in, though. Lust. Pride. She’s…claiming me right here in front of everyone. I might look like hell’s most terrifying monster to them, but I’ve got a tight beauty squirming around on my hungry cockstand that says different.

  The men are lowering their guns and watching Delilah kiss me with sick fascination, and shit, fellas, I don’t understand why she wants me, either. But I’m going to be grateful for the rest of my life. I might even start going to church so I can thank God in person for keeping my doll safe while I was gone. For making her look past my scars and seeing a man who’d protect her with his dying breath.

  Now that the immediate threat of harm has passed, stopping the kiss is impossible. Audience be damned, I reach under Delilah’s dress and cup her gyrating ass cheeks, using my grip to pull her closer, offer more friction. We both groan over the new, tight rub of her pussy on my rigid fly. Her knees jerk and shake at the sides of my waist, her breath puffing out faster and faster between wet, desperate kisses.

  “I don’t like you coming with all these eyes watching,” I rasp against her ear.

  Her movements slow, but pick up again almost immediately. “I can’t stop. I can’t…” She turns her head and looks directly at the men, eyes glazed over. “My daddy feels too good. I can’t stop.”

  One of them drops his gun on the table. “Fuck.”

  “Jesus Christ,” says another, licking his lips. “Look at her move.”

  Violence swims in my vision. “Mine.”

  My bellow sends them scattering, exiting the dining room to join everyone else at the bar. All eyes are on us, and I’m fixing to get Delilah into the bathroom or somewhere else private where she ca
n finish riding me to get off. Where I can give her my dripping dick and pump her full of my seed.

  I begin to stand, but that’s when the shaking starts. Her eyes are trained on mine, her pupils dilated, sweet lips popped open. Those incredible thighs of hers are spread way open on account of my wide body, her tiny hips pumping, tits jiggling up and down against the neckline of her dress. Over her shoulder, I can see our rapt audience, but I cease to give a shit in the face of her sweetness. Knowing I’m the one who made her tremble like she’s in the middle of her own personal earthquake.

  Now they all know it.

  Goddamn right, I make this girl come. She’s mine. All fucking mine. And somehow, she’s just as greedy for me as I am for her. I must be the luckiest man on the face of the earth, because I think that’s what she wanted to show me, by taking my mouth and rubbing all over my cock with everyone watching. That she doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks. I’m hers as much as she’s mine.

  Delilah throws back her head, liquid heat molding her cunt to my throbbing bulge, and a prideful roar heaves from my lungs, sending a few patrons running out the exit. I bang a fist on the back of the bench, keeping my eyes open for opposition while Delilah and I come together for a searing kiss. The kind that makes me spurt against the inside of my jeans and means I need to get her alone. Now.

  She’s still working in circles on my lap as I stand, striding across the back of the restaurant. It’s daytime, so the dance floor, which is probably packed at night, is empty. The room twists into an L-shape, and my strides eat up floor. It’s pitch black this far from the windows, and we’re out of the bar’s view, but nothing can calm the need in my blood to claim Delilah. They’ll definitely hear me fucking her, but I’m so worked up at this point, they’d hear me if I took her all the way across the street on the motel bed.