One night, she came over while Brecken was at my house visiting. She asked me if we had ever shared a woman. When we told her no, she asked if we would like to. It only took us a second to realize what she was offering, and neither of us wanted to tell her no. We were two best friends getting to share one beautiful woman. No man would pass that up.
It didn’t take her long to place her hands on me. Slapping and punching, she would try to provoke me to hit her. The same with Brecken. We never would give her the fight that she wanted, but that didn’t mean we didn’t fuck the rage out of her. She needed an outlet, and sex was that for her.
“Case.” She sighs heavily. “What took you so long?” She reaches up and runs her finger along the cut on her lip, smearing the blood. She then lets out a moan when she places the end of her finger into her mouth. My cock starts to harden in response. Rachel is one of those women who no matter how fucking crazy she is, you still want her again and again because the fuck is just that good. Brecken and I both know that we’re not the only guys she fucks, but we also know we’re the only ones she comes back to. Even if we are the ones who have to clean up her messes.
I should ask her what she’s doing in my bed, but I know the answer—she wants to be fucked. Treated how she thinks she deserves, like trash. So instead, I say, “Why did you bring him into my club?” She knows I don’t tolerate shit like that in my club. It brings in unwanted attention. Cops show up. They ask questions. It leads to trouble I don’t care to mess with.
She whimpers as she arches her back. She slides her hands up her ribs and grabs a hold of her tits. She gasps as her hands move to her nipples, and she pinches them between two fingers. Her hips buck off the bed, and she pulls her knees up. “Case …” She sighs my name, and I lick my lips.
She stretches her hands above her head, placing her hand under one of my pillows. When she pulls her hand out from underneath it, she has a pair of handcuffs in her hand. They’re her favorite accessory. “I fucked up,” she says not sounding a bit remorseful. The sound of them tightening as she places one cuff around her right wrist and then places her hands behind her back. I hear the click of the metal as she cuffs her other wrist herself. For most women, that would be hard and maybe impossible, but Rachel has had a lot of practice.
“What are you gonna do to me?” Her eyes drop down to my black belt, and I understand perfectly what she wants. Punishment. And my cock hardens to the point of pain knowing that she’s going to get off on that.
My hands go to my belt, and I very slowly undo it as her dark eyes watch my movement. Her lips part and she sucks in a breath as she gets up onto her knees as the sound of my belt slips through the belt loops of my jeans.
“You know I don’t tolerate such bullshit,” I say voice hard.
She whimpers as her body shudders, making her fake tits bounce. Her pink nipples are hard, and I can’t wait to wrap my lips around them and suck them into my mouth. “I’m sorry …”
I reach out and wrap my hand around her throat, cutting off her air. She looks up at me, and her dark brown eyes are half closed. This is her drug. This is what she needs in order to get by. I hear the clanking of her cuffs, and I smile down at her. She always tries to fight it because she likes the marks they leave.
I place my belt on the bed beside her. “Spread your legs,” I demand. She does as I say, and I run my hand between her thighs, very slowly inching my fingers up to cup her pussy. She tries to jerk away when I push a finger into her to see how wet she already is. I close my eyes and let out a sigh as I think of all the things I’m gonna do to her; only, it’s not her face I see. It’s Taylor.
No! My eyes spring open. She’s off-limits. “Don’t pretend to be sorry,” I say my voice hardening, pissed that I thought of Taylor that way. I lower my lips close to hers. “But I’m gonna make you sorry …”
CHAPTER SEVEN
TAYLOR
“Shoot,” I hiss as I slam my hand down on my steering wheel. My car rolls to a stop as I guide it to the shoulder of the road. Smoke is billowing out of the hood. I quickly get out of it and make my way to the front of my car. I cuss myself as I try to open the hood. But it’s hot to the touch.
“Son of a bitch,” I say between clenched teeth as I try again. I remove my fingers and shake them as the hood pops open. I place my fingers in my mouth on my hot tongue to help with the burn. Then I shove the hood open. Smoke pours out; the sting of it on my skin has me taking a few steps back. I don’t see any real fire. I look around, but all I see is black smoke. But just to be sure, I walk back to my car and grab the bottle of water from my console. I pour it over my engine and the sound of something sizzling makes me cringe. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
I sigh, running a hand through my dark hair. Now, what do I do? I pull my cell out of my back pocket and look at the time. I should be walking into work right now. I go to my recent call log and hit send when I see Savannah’s name. It rings six times and then goes to voicemail.
Frustrated, I call my brother’s phone. It goes straight to voicemail. I stomp my foot as I call out a curse. They’re probably in bed together. Ugh. It is a Sunday after all. They always sleep in on Sundays. I haven’t seen them since last night after I pissed them both off. I guess they could just be ignoring me.
I knew we should have gotten a home phone. I’ve been trying to talk them into it for over a year, but no, they say we don’t need a house phone when we have cell phones. Bullshit!
I call my work. I smile when I hear a co-worker, Duncan, answer the phone. “Duncan. Can you come and get me? My car broke down.”
“I’m sorry, Taylor, but I can’t. I’m the only one here at the moment,” he responds sadly.
“What about Mr. Binsen?” I say as I look around to see no cars driving on this back road. I always go this way in the mornings. It’s less traffic than the highway.
“He’s not arriving for another thirty minutes.”
“Dammit,” I shout, slamming my hood shut. “Okay. I will be there, but I’m just gonna be a little late,” I inform him before we hang up.
I make my way back to my car now that I know it’s not actually on fire, but smoke continues to pour out from under the hood. I plop down in my driver’s seat as I call Savannah once more. This time when she doesn’t answer, I leave her a not so nice voicemail to call me back as soon as she gets my message.
I hang up and lean my head back against my headrest and let out a frustrated breath. This cannot be happening. I can’t be late. I’m a great employee. I arrive early. What in the hell have I done for karma to hate me so much these last two weeks? The thought of how hateful I have been and Case pops into my mind, but I quickly squash it.
I lift my head from the headrest and look down at my phone in my lap. I can call Mr. Binsen. Duncan said he wasn’t at work yet. I could have him swing by and pick me up. I dial his number, but his voicemail picks up after the second ring.
“Doesn’t anyone answer their fucking phones?” I yell into my car. Geez, it’s as if nothing can go my way.
I’m about to call Savannah again when something in my cup holder catches my attention. A black business card scripted with bright blue writing. Seven Deadly Sins. Once my shift was over last night, I had just thrown it in my car. I meant to take it inside last night and throw it away, but I forgot about it.
I pick it up and run my finger over the number at the bottom of the card. Could I call him? Should I call him? No! Absolutely not! After all, this is the guy who I thought broke into our house, right? But he did help us out by replacing some of the stuff we had stolen. I roll my eyes. He only did that to make you think he was innocent. This is also the guy who threatened you just a week ago. And the guy who showed up at your work yesterday offering you a job you would never take. What is his angle?