Four years ago Rebel ruined Ginger by claiming her to keep them both alive, and then she disappeared. Bike Week at Daytona Beach brings them back together. He's a nomad. Dangerous. A ruthless killer. But he's her addiction, and she's his. Can they keep the past where it belongs and move forward, or is it too late? More
I grabbed Ginger by the hand and pulled her out of the room, down the hall and to the bathroom. Her resistance was futile, her fear unimportant. I knew what I had to do, and if she were smart, she'd realize it, too. If she wanted to live. I opened the bathroom door and yanked her inside, thankful that I found it empty. It was filthy, but better than nothing, and it had a shower that everyone used when they felt the need to be clean, which wasn't often.
Ginger spun around when I shut the door, the look of a trapped animal in her pretty blues. I ignored her growing terror, steeling myself for what I had to do. Even behind closed doors I had to make it real, had to be convincing that I was an unfeeling bastard. I saw her swallow, could see her tits rising and falling rapidly as the fear of the unknown overwhelmed her. She was expecting the worst, preparing herself to do whatever she had to do to survive.
"Take off your clothes." I kept my tone harsh, indifferent to her growing panic.
She shook her head vigorously and stepped back, slamming hard against the cracked porcelain sink. A nervous cry escaped her, and her eyes were wild as she took in her surroundings and realized that there was no escape. Her gaze touched on the door behind me before meeting my eyes.
"Take off your f**king clothes," I said in an uncaring, demanding tone. "You're filthy, and not in a way that gets me hard. Now undress." I removed my cut and the t-shirt beneath it. "In fact, I think I'll join you." Her eyes nearly popped out of her head at that. "If you're not undressed by the time I'm out of my clothes, you won't like the consequences." I kicked off my boots as my hands went to the front of my pants.
As I’d expected she would, Ginger's small hands began to unbutton her blouse. Slowly she began to expose enticing, creamy skin to my wandering eyes. I undid my pants. She lowered her gaze to the floor and turned around before reluctantly removing the garment. I let her have her moment of modesty before I looked into the mirror in front of her. Christ. I took notice of her perfect tits and rosy tips.
I lowered my zipper, the sound of it overloud in the tiny room. I could tell that she knew what I was doing by the stiffening of her backside, but she didn't let it stop her from removing her jeans. As I kicked mine away, hers hit the floor. I hissed, taking in the mouth-watering curves of her shapely ass. F**king hell, I hadn't expected the surge of lust that was heating my blood at an alarming rate.
The sound of harsh breathing filled the room, and it took a minute before I realized that it was mine. "Turn around," I demanded sharply.
I kept the smile to myself when I watched her bring her long hair forward, knowing that she was trying to use it to shield as much of her nudity as she could from me. She'd all but succeeded. When she turned, her tits were hidden behind the thick layers of her hair, and her hands were shielding her sex from me.
"Come here, Ginger."
She padded toward me slowly. I was glad that she was acting sensible. It would make my job a helluva lot easier, and besides, I didn't want to hurt her. When she was within inches of me she halted, her gaze still lowered to the floor. "Look at me." I moved her hair back behind her.
Her worried, frightened eyes locked onto mine, and I steeled myself from softening towards her. "This is going to happen, Ginger. You and I both know that Wildman will kill us both if it doesn't, and that's after every one of his brothers has a go at you." I hesitated, giving her time to digest that. "You want that to happen?" She shook her head, a lone tear making its way down her cheek. I wiped it away with my thumb. "No more resistance from you, and I'll make it as easy on you as I can."
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