Clubwhore (Devil's Renegade MC #1)(35)

The introduction of the song starts again, and his hands are on me. I whimper, begging him to take me. I feel him behind me, trailing his finger slowly down my spine. When he reaches the top of my ass, his entire palm flattens against my skin—smoothing over the flesh that is still tender from last night.

His hand slides lower to the inside of my thigh. He pats it lightly, urging my legs apart. I oblige, and his hand falls between my legs—softly stroking the outside of my pussy before pushing a finger between my lips, and thrusting it inside me.

The position has him reaching that spot inside me I beg to be touched. When I throw my head back on a gasp, he backs off. I give a low, guttural moan of protest, but he ignores me—slowly pumping his finger in and out of me. It’s just enough to bring me to the edge, but not enough to push me over.

He continues until the song is over, then withdraws his finger and moves away from me. I’m on the verge of crying I’m so desperate. This orgasm denial is worse than anything I’ve ever felt. I’m nearing the point of mental exhaustion. But as the song starts up again, he removes the blindfold.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, and the first thing they notice is his. They’re hooded, dark and smoldering with the same desire and need I feel inside me. I’m so caught up in his stare, it takes a minute for me to notice he’s shirtless. My head lolls and my breathing stops when I realize he’s not just shirtless—he’s completely naked.

His thick cock is hard, heavy and the biggest motherfucking dick I’ve ever seen in my life. For the first time, I get to see him in his full glory. I can’t imagine how I ever took his length before. Wrapping one hand around my throat, he forces me to look at him. I’m expecting a cocky grin, but he’s not the least bit smug—he’s fucking hungry.

Crashing his lips to mine, he once again controls the kiss—forcing me to surrender to him. As the song starts to build, his kiss becomes more urgent. His hand leaves my throat and grips my waist. The rough texture of his palms tickle as they smooth over my hips then around to my ass—spanning its entirety.

He squeezes and a jolt of pleasure fires straight through my core. Then he’s lifting me, and my legs lock around his waist. I grip the chains, hoisting myself higher—obeying his wordless demand. Centering his cock at my entrance, he slowly pushes inside of me—breaking the kiss so he can gauge my reaction as I absorb every inch of him.

The process is painstakingly slow, but oh so rewarding. There’s a pinch of discomfort, but I welcome it. One hand slides between us while the other keeps a firm grip on my ass. His thumb circles my clit with just the right amount of pressure, and the discomfort fades completely.

“Don’t come until I tell you to. If you do, you’ll spend tomorrow tied up and begging.” It’s meant as a warning, but I consider it an invitation. My sex tightens—squeezing him hard. “Fight it, Love,” he says, his voice authoritative—demanding. But I don’t fight. I give in to the desire building inside me.

He pulls back and thrusts inside me, taking advantage of my walls opening up and swallowing him. The orgasm is never-ending—white light bursting behind my eyelids…a series of electrifying currents pulsing through my veins…my entire body convulsing with an immeasurable amount of endless, wave-crashing euphoria. The reprieve is more than I ever could have imagined. I feel him…everywhere.

My body is being deliciously ravaged by him.

My mind is consumed with thoughts of only him.

My heart is beating solely for him.

His words echo inside my head—“You belong to me.”

He was right…

I do.





My forehead rests against his as I hang limply around him while we both fight to catch our breath. We didn’t make it to the end of the song—not that I was expecting us to. He might’ve had it in him, but I damn sure didn’t.

He recovers quicker than I do, and I wish he weren’t such a fucking Superman. I would really like to enjoy this moment a little longer. My lips tremble and I whimper as he pulls out of me. The emptiness is a little overwhelming.

The music is still booming through the speakers. Now that I’m sated, tired and emotionally drained, I’ve decided I hate this song. It’s almost depressing.

With one arm still tightly around my waist, he unclips the cuffs from the chains and drapes my lifeless arms around his neck. I’m as limp as an overcooked noodle—completely relying on him to support all my weight while I just lay my head on his shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind or struggle in the least as he walks around the room with me suctioned to his chest.

The music stops suddenly, and I’m aware of my loud breathing. Grabbing my bathrobe from the couch, he drapes it over my shoulders—repositioning his arms so they’re on the outside of the robe, and I’m completely engulfed in warmth.

It’s cooler inside the house, and I realize I’ve lost a slipper as the air swirls around my toes. He passes through the kitchen and doesn’t stop until he’s in the bedroom. This entire time, he’s been carrying me with one arm while keeping the other one free to open doors and now pull back the covers on the bed. Damn, he’s strong. I’m dead weight and he’s not the least bit winded.

“You okay, Love?” Hmmm… Love.

“I’m perfect.” More than perfect—if there is such a thing.

“You wanna loosen up that grip?” His tone is playful. I realize we’ve been standing here beside the bed and I’ve inadvertently been tightening my hold in fear he’ll set me down.

I attempt a shrug, but my limbs feel liquefied, so I’m not sure he notices. “Not really,” I admit, trying to suppress a yawn and failing. He doesn’t object, he simply lies down with me on top of him. “Okay, now it’s uncomfortable.”

I try to roll to my side and succeed with a little help from him. He throws my robe to the floor, and he pulls the covers over both of us. I curl into his chest, hoping he doesn’t ruin the moment by talking. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t, but if he did, I was too close to sleep to acknowledge it.





I slept for nearly six hours. The first thought when I woke was how wonderful a hot bath would feel. Sinking down into the old claw foot tub, I let the near-scalding water soothe my achy limbs. The only thing it doesn’t soothe is my ass that I’m beginning to think wasn’t just spanked with a hand—a barbed-wire fence comes to mind.

Aside from the pain of my backside, I’ve never felt better. I honestly can’t remember a time I’ve been so … free. There are no dark thoughts or itches to scratch. No incessant cravings or imminent needs. It’s a new kind of relief I could definitely get used to.

Other than the fact it’s dark outside, I have no knowledge of time. I don’t care either. I feel more at home, more at peace and more alive in this tiny little house than anywhere else I’ve ever been. The glory belongs to Bryce, but I’m pretty proud of myself for being willing to take a chance.

After my bath, I walk into the living room to find him on the couch. He smiles up at me as I take a seat on the other end of the sofa.

“I’m hungry,” I whine, folding my arms across my chest. I could definitely get used to the liberating feeling of wearing nothing but a bathrobe.

“I don’t have anything but coffee, bottled water and oatmeal here. But lucky for you, there are several Prospects in line to get a patch. Food will be here shortly.”

I frown. “Well, how much longer are they gonna be? I’m starving.”

Apparently, he doesn’t find my petulant act amusing anymore. He shoots me a look of warning. “You’re not a brat, Delilah. Stop acting like one.”

He’s right. I would never complain like this at the clubhouse. It’s just not who I am. But somewhere deep inside me, the desire to be spanked is still alive. I want his hands on me. It’s not the pain I yearn for in this moment, it’s the way he holds me and makes me feel safe after the punishment that I crave. Problem is, it’s not my body craving it, but my heart.

“I can’t help it. I get like this when I’m hungry.” I poke my lip out, but he’s not looking at me.

“No, you don’t.” He sounds bored as he flips through the pages of the magazine in his lap.

“I’m seriously starving. If they’re not here in five minutes, I’m taking Luke’s truck and going to get something myself.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, and gives me a blank stare. “I know what you’re doing, babe. But be careful what you ask for. Sometimes shit ain’t as rewarding when you don’t need it.”

I hadn’t thought about that. He’s probably right, but I’d like to find out on my own. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll blame it on my mommy issues. But I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy it much more than he thinks.

I pretend to look at my wrist, knowing he’s watching me out of the corner of his eye. “Four minutes.”

“Last warning, Delilah. Drop the act, or I’m going to treat you with the same level of humiliation a parent would a snot-nosed brat in a grocery store.” Lucky for me, humility is something I rarely feel.