King by Kerri Ann

Author:Kerri Ann
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: MC, Motorcycle Club, hostage, debt owed, power, attraction, sexual tension, conflict, secret, romantic, redemption, captive, captivated, romance african American, African American, angst, motorcycle, corrupted, corruption, storm, epic adult fantasy, sex short stories for adults, romance interracial, bad timing, badboy, alpha bad boys, conflicted, duty, honor, rival clubs, vengance, sexy romance, capture his heart, hea romance, bikers, biker romance, alpha ever after, lies, loyalty, betrayal, rogue, corrupt, undercover, ruthless, harsh, loss, life changes, lifer, deadly, informant, vicious, violence, forbidden, sinners, retaliation, busted, sexy romance novels, FBI, cartel, rebel, ravenous, interracial, beautiful hostage, traitor, undercover, Rook, Pawn, Queen, Series Crossover, series, women's fiction, women's contemporary romance
Publisher: Kerri Ann
Published: 2018-07-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

BUSTA

What the ever-loving fuck!

Turning the lock, I felt every tick. I felt like the biggest cock on the planet. I hated it. I despised it, but I had to.

Tromping back up the stairs two at a time, my heart was heavy. I ran straight to the fridge. Pulling out the cooled tequila from the icebox, a cup from the drying rack and filling it halfway, I guzzled two glassfuls down before my ass hit the couch.

Yeah, she pissed me off, but the way she softened soothed the demon within and turned me on. Wanting to do nothing other than press my hips against hers and show her how much she’s affecting me, I’ve instead gathered my control. Grinding my teeth, I grabbed my spine and locked her ass in the empty cage again.

I had to be the asshole. I had to place her back in there and leave. She’s tougher than I thought she’d be. She’s not begging for her release, and she’s not turning over on the Army.

I’m still amazed. She didn’t argue as the lock turned. She didn’t bitch, whine, or moan about the cage I’d locked her in after our raging interaction. She stood her ground, arms crossed, scowling. Even now, she’s as quiet as a church mouse.

Fuck, it’s hot on her.

Oubliette isn’t afraid to go toe-to-toe with me to enforce her opinion, and she’s damn near uncrackable.

I pour another half glass of the Tequila I’ve all but emptied.

“Fucking woman,” I mutter to myself, grabbing up the television remote.

I hated that I had to put her in there. Fighting her, I wished nothing more than to kiss those soft lips. I wanted to take her ire and push her attitude to the forefront again. Thing is, if she’s that stubborn, there’s no way I’m getting any info out of her unless I push her. I’ll need to drag her to the edge of her limitations. I’ll need her to break, so I do what I have to. If I don’t, then True has no reason to keep her alive or to let her loose.

Who am I fucking kidding? She’s never getting free of us. The only way out is through slavery to a man that will use her as a sex toy until he kills her.

I need her to hate me, even as I hate myself for doing it. I have to make her despise everything about this place.

That first day, True called, wondering if she gave anything up, and when I’d told him I thought we needed a few days, he laughed. Then yesterday, he called again and said he would be bringing us a present soon, one that he thought could bend her to our will, or that could be more useful. I doubt it, but good on him for trying.

If I thought offering to help others would be a way to get through to her, and she hasn’t cracked seeing the destitute souls, then there’s no way that a present will loosen her tongue.

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