She was beat the fuck to hell.
She was also so fucking beautiful. I was so taken aback by her that I felt like she wasn’t unconscious at all, but instead had just slapped me upside the fucking head.
When her lips parted she drew in a breath, arching her back off the bed, pushing out her tits against the thin blanket, before collapsing again.
My fucking cock sprang to life.
“Bad fucking timing, asshole,” I muttered to myself.
Whether she was a fucking trap or not, someone, probably my old man, had worked her over real good.
Seeing her in person was so different than looking at a picture. Being in the same room as her, watching as she wrestled in her sleep, the anger I felt minutes ago toward my old man amplified by a thousand. The cords in my neck strained and I balled my fists.
I wasn’t JUST going to kill Chop.
I was going to gut the motherfucker.
Thia thrashed about wildly, her arms and legs limp and useless as she rolled from side to side. Her mouth opened and closed, her nose wrinkled and her eyebrows drew in like she was having a heated conversation with someone in her dream. She thrashed about again, this time kicking the sheets and blankets off the bed.
I sucked in a breath.
She wasn’t wearing a shirt or a bra, her tits were full, high, rounded, and perfect. My cock hadn’t gotten my earlier message to tame the fuck down, because again it twitched in my pants as all the blood from my brain rushed to my dick until it was straining painfully against my zipper. Thia rolled over onto her side so she was facing me and I was able to get a better view of her light pink nipples. There was a mark on her left tit and when I leaned in to inspect it I saw red.
Bright fucking red rage.
A fucking bite mark on her fucking nipple.
I stood over Thia as a confused mixture of hate, rage, and lust swam around inside of me. I added decapitation to the list of things I was going to do to Chop and possibly burning off his own fucking nipples beforehand.
On the other hand, if the bitch was working for Chop, it was going to be a shame to have to finish what he’d started on such a perfect body.
I paced the room, cracking my knuckles and breathing fire. If this was King’s old place I’d probably have already punched a hole in the fucking drywall and suddenly wished that the old dilapidated garage that used to be covered with my Johnny Cash posters and Beach Bastards flags hadn’t been replaced by new, fresh, and white paint.
Thia sat up suddenly and opened her eyes revealing large round and doll-like emerald greens beneath the surface. “Bear,” she whispered, locking her gaze onto me. Her one hand flew up to her chest to grab my skull ring which was dangling on a chain between her tits.
I opened my mouth, but I didn’t have a chance to say anything, because her eyes rolled back in her head and she started to convulse.
Warmth. I was wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and comfort I never wanted to emerge from.
“You dead, Darlin’?” A deep voice penetrated the silence, calling me back from the darkness.
Warm water cascaded onto my skin. I was sitting down on the slippery surface of a shallow bathtub while strong arms cradled me against a broad hard chest. Something huge and hard prodded my back, causing my eyes to fly open.
Panic poured into my veins like I’d been shot in the heart with adrenaline.
I sat up and turned my head, staring directly into the sapphire blue pools that made my skin crawl and bile rise in my throat.
It couldn’t be. I thought I’d gotten away.
“Nooo!!!!” I screamed, scrambling away, trying to hoist my leg over the ledge, but only managing to lift my leg high enough to hit my knee directly into the side of the bathtub.
The same strong arms wrapped around me and tugged me back underneath the spray.
I couldn’t breathe.
This can’t be happening.
But it was.
It was happening all over again, and I couldn’t. Fucking. Breathe.
“Look at me!” the voice ordered, and when I didn’t comply he kept one hand wrapped around my shoulders and used the other to turn my chin to face him. I fought him using every ounce of strength I had, but it wasn’t enough. I was tired. Weak. The muscles in my neck gave out and I was forced to again look into the eyes of my captor.
There was a hardness and an anger, a violence, lurking in the bright eyes before me. A deep down exhaustion I could relate to, however there was no outright hatred, no malice.
It wasn’t him.
It wasn’t Chop.
I had gotten away after all.
But where had I gotten away to?
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