Clubwhore (Devil's Renegade MC #1)(46)

“Whose land is this?” I ask, running my fingers through my hair—unable to resist giving it a slight pull.

“Luke’s.” I look up and find his brow furrowed as he watches me a moment before he turns to face the water. “His company owns it. We’ll be cutting the timber here in the spring.”

“We?”

He nods, his hands clasped in his lap as he keeps his attention on the water below us. “I transferred to Hattiesburg. Took a job with Carmical Construction.”

“Why?” I ask, my hands worrying the bottom of my shirt.

He faces me then--a deep, pained look flashes in his eyes, but he quickly conceals it. “I needed a fresh start.” I start to ask “Why” once again, but he cuts me off. “You look beautiful today.”

Wow. Well, that’s one way to change the subject. “Thank you.” I drop my gaze, feeling shy and antsy all at the same time.

“Do you know what I love about this place?” My head pops up at his change in tone—dark and…dominating. I shiver in response as I meet his fierce, powerful green eyes. He points to something, but I can’t look away from him. “That tree.”

He stands, helping me up before leading us down the pile of rocks and away from the water. I stop a few feet behind him, looking up at the tree that looms big in front of me—my head tilting completely back until I finally see the top.

The trunk seems too narrow for such a tall tree. Winter has stripped it from its leaves, but it’s just as magnificent—maybe even better—as it is now. The web of roots surrounding it protrudes from the ground making it appear alive.

“Ever since I laid eyes on this, all I could think about is how sexy you would look tied to it.” He closes the distance between us—his stride predatory and wanting. I swallow. His hand lifts, dragging a finger over the curve of my jaw. “Naked…wet…begging…”

My thighs clench. The movement causes my brows to draw in confusion. My body is at war with my mind—battling the wave of emotions his voice and my thoughts both bring.

“Take off your clothes, Love.” His demand leaves no room for argument or question. But my bewilderment won’t let me comply. I can’t make sense of what’s happening. He leans in, his face so close to mine our noses nearly touch. “Now,” he growls, the sound coming from deep in his chest.

I nod, my lips parting as I pull in a ragged breath. Trembling fingers move to the button on my jeans. It takes a few tries, but I manage to unbutton and unzip them. He doesn’t rush me, he just stands merely inches away and watches—his eyes promising dangerous wrath if I don’t obey.

I’m so shook up, I don’t realize I’m still wearing the knee length boots until my jeans are at my hips. I look around nervously for something to hold onto. Then they land on his outstretched hand. I chance a look in his eyes. They’re still brooding.

I grip his forearm, and look away—using him for balance as I pull off first one boot, then the other. My shirt is next, and I lift it over my head—my entire body quivering with need. I’m just not sure what that need is. The thought once again has me feeling wary and unstable.

“All of it.”

My hands fist at his command. Not from anger, but to feel the bite of my nails. When I feel the sting, it’s enough to give me the courage I need to reach behind me and unclasp my bra. I feel modest out here in the open. My bared flesh in the natural lighting seems forbidden and dirty.

Bending, I wiggle my panties over my hips and step out of them. When I straighten, one arm covers my breasts while my hand splays over my sex. The air is cool, but my skin breaks out in a sheen of sweat.

“Why are you hiding from me, Love?” Bryce asks, more gently this time, but with firmness that demands an answer.

“This seems…too erotic.” I flush at my admission, but my eyes cast up to his. He’s completely vague, giving nothing away.

“I’ve seen every inch of your body. Why are you ashamed now?” Mild curiosity sparks in his thick accent.

I look away, shifting from one foot to the other. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I don’t understand this.” I hiccup a small sob, as tears prick the back of my eyes. I’m always aware of what I need—my mind and body working in perfect sync together. Never have I felt horny and afflicted at the same time. The blurring of the line is enough to send me into a crazed, carnal frenzy.

“Something’s not right,” I say, shaking my head vigorously. “This isn’t right.” My breathing becomes harsh—my heart beating heavier in my chest. The flow of the river becomes a dulling, distant sound—replaced with the constant buzzing of my mind.

“Shhh…” Bryce soothes, cupping my cheek in his hand. “Calm down, Love. I’m right here.”

He’s right here.

He’s right here.

I repeat the mantra over and over as I nod, noticing his voice silenced the annoying hum of my mind. He kisses my lips, parting them with his tongue before invading my mouth—sweeping it once before pulling away. My lips tingle from the touch.

“Do you trust me, Love?”

“Yes,” I breathe, my answer instant. Earning me a smile.

“Good girl. Stand with your back against the tree, Love. Hands at your sides.” I take a deep breath, facing the river as my hands fall from my body—exposing me to him. I’m aware of him watching me, and chance a look. He swallows hard, drinking in the sight of me naked in nature—my back pressed tightly to the rough bark of the tree. I bend my knees and rub against it.

His eyes narrow. “I’ve been watching you hurt yourself all day, Love. I’m tempted to spank you for it.” My eyes widen in desperation at his words. “Stay right there. Don’t move.” I nod, his voice enough to scare me into submission.

I watch as he removes his cut as he walks back to the large rock where we were sitting. Retrieving the leather bag he’d brought, he opens it and places his cut inside—pulling out a length of rope as he does. Turning back to face me, he glides casually, confidently toward me, uncoiling the rope as he pierces me with his glare. For a moment, I think he might hit me with it. My shoulders sag in relief at the thought.

I stand in awe of the way his muscles flex against his shirt as he tosses the rope around the tree. He moves in front of me, his stance wide—boxing me in. I close my eyes and inhale his manly scent. It’s even more delicious and palpable in the clean air.

The rope feels wrong on my skin. I was looking forward to the scratchy burn of the thick fibers, but this rope is coated making it smooth to touch. I grumble.

Quirking an eyebrow, he pauses and looks up at me from beneath his lashes. “Problem, Love?” I wiggle against the restraints and he gives me a wolfish grin. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easy, did you?”

My anger spikes, as it often does in anxious times like this. But right now, I’m thankful for it. Anger is better than not knowing what the hell it is I’m feeling. There’s no denying it. Like a vise, it grips you—forcing you to surrender to its hold. It might possibly be the greatest emotion of all.

When he steps back, his grin fades and his lips part. I follow his hooded gaze, finding my body very snuggly strapped to the tree—the rope crisscrossing over my stomach, thighs, legs and shoulders. I strain against it to test its strength. It doesn’t give in the least.

“Perfect,” he mumbles, reaching out to drag a finger across my collar bone. My anger dissipates. My sex floods with desire. My mind worries with uncertainty.

I want to enjoy this. I want to feel the full, sexual impact of being tied to this tree, teased, fucked and completely ravaged by him. But I can’t concentrate. I need something else too. I need pain…sweltering, blistering, beast-caging pain.

“Please,” I whimper, wiggling my hands—the only part of my body other than my head that’s free.

“Please what, Love?” His innocent question makes me want to kick him in the groin and send him tumbling down the ravine and into the frigid water.

“I need…” What?

He raises his eyebrows expectantly. I rest my head against the tree, turning it so I’m facing away from him. “I need you to spank me.”

Gripping my chin in his fingers, he forces my eyes to his, then drops his hand. “There’ll be no pain today, Love. Just pleasure.”

“But I need the pain,” I argue, knowing once I feel it and it’s over, I can enjoy this experience in its entirety.

“Do you?” He sounds amused. “Because these,” he tweaks my nipples with his fingers, “aren’t hard because it’s cold.” He’s right, and as if I need to assist in proving his point, sweat beads across my forehead.

“I’m cold,” I blurt, unsure of what else to say to deter him.

His mouth comes to my ear, nibbling my earlobe before whispering, “Then maybe I should warm you up.” My comeback catches in my throat when his head dips, and his mouth closes over my nipple.

Blissful sensations ripple down my belly and to my pussy, fully awakening the lingering desire. I try to buck my hips, but the rope prevents the movement. I let out a cry of frustration—the demons of my mind protesting against the onslaught of his mouth as he continues to knead and suck my breasts.