She would’ve given me her virginity in that wonderful afternoon, but I’d stopped. I’d been a fucking idiot and thought we had forever.
Instead, here I was about to fuck a stranger just because I had to get her out of my mind once and for all. My past was dead to me.
She had to be, too.
“Do you have a condom?” My voice was rough, angry.
Meadow nodded, pulling a packet from her cleavage. I stole it from her fingers. It was warm and the rubber inside slipped like disgusting slime against the foil. Placing it on the bedspread in easy reach, I growled, “On your knees.”
I couldn’t do this looking into her eyes.
I swallowed hard. Goddammit.
I’d survived almost five years in a penitentiary without thinking of her, yet the moment I got out and saw the gift she’d given me all those years ago, I couldn’t stop her invasion.
You’re cheating on her.
I wasn’t.
I couldn’t cheat on her.
She’s dead.
Meadow rolled onto her knees, wriggling her ass, hoisting her tight dress past her hips to her waist. She wasn’t wearing underwear. She spread her legs for me, just like she had for the twenty members of the Corrupts.
My teeth locked at the blatant display of female body parts. I could fucking stare all day.
My cock didn’t care that this woman wasn’t Cleo. It didn’t care that she’d been a permanent fixture serving the men who’d betrayed Wallstreet.
All it cared about was fixing a problem. Leaving boyhood for my new future.
Unbuckling my jeans, I slipped the heavy denim to my ankles. I still wasn’t used to the scratch against my legs after the well-worn cotton of jumpsuits at Florida State.
I didn’t bother touching her or myself.
Grabbing the condom, I tore it open, screwed my face up at how gross the fucking thing felt, and rolled it awkwardly down my length.
“Move back,” I growled.
Meadow immediately obeyed, inching her ass backward, wetness glistening between her thighs. My hands landed on her hips, positioning her exactly where I wanted.
She looked over her shoulder, hazel eyes glowing with lust. “You don’t want me to suck you? Don’t you want to fool around a bit first?”
Hell no.
Anger popped in my blood; I couldn’t help myself. Grabbing her chin, I forced her head to face the mattress. “Don’t look at me.”
Don’t look at me with eyes that make me hate myself. Don’t make me miss her any more than I already do.
I should’ve been gagging for this. I should’ve been panting and so fucking happy at having a willing woman on her knees about to take my cock, but all I could focus on was the guilt-ridden heart inside my chest.
Godddammit, stop it.
“Give me your hands.”
She obeyed without question and I used my discarded belt to tie her wrists together. Now she couldn’t touch me either. I might fuck her but I would never seek comfort from her. Comfort I didn’t fucking deserve.
Gritting my teeth, I grabbed my cock and positioned myself at her entrance.
Her back tensed, her fingers opening and closing in the confines.
The moment stretched, anticipation sparking in my blood.
Then I slammed home.
Possibly too hard, probably too fast. I didn’t know—I had no fucking experience. But Meadow didn’t seem to care. Her head flew back as I pulled out and drove in again.
“Oh God,” she moaned as I moved inside her, testing, learning.
Her heat was subtle, her wetness hidden from me thanks to the condom, but the action of filling a woman like I hadn’t done before was enough to make me stop thinking of Cleo and throw myself into my first-ever fuck.
That night, when the compound had finally quieted, and I’d showered off the three rounds of sex I’d indulged in, I got up the guts to pull the Libra eraser from my jeans pocket.
I flopped onto my back glaring at the ceiling of my cell… I meant room. I’d only been here a few hours, but I already hated living at the Clubhouse. It was ridiculous. A bunch of grown men all living together. What happened to freedom and our own space? What happened to disinfectant and a vacuum cleaner? What happened to family and love?
The eraser was too heavy—too knowing—in my fingers. It was the sign for justice. The sign for right and wrong. And also my star sign. Go fucking figure. Hadn’t known until she’d told me.
Serendipitous, really—turned out my personality matched, too. She’d told me she was a Sagittarius. That she wasn’t meant to love someone who wasn’t a Capricorn or an Aries. But she’d make an exception just for me.
We’d lay on the roof of the garage where a bunch of Harleys, Hondas, and Triumphs were bedded down for the night. She’d whispered the traits of a Libran.
She rolled to face me, tracing my face with her gentle fingers. “You’re graceful.”
I huffed. “On my bike, maybe, but nowhere else.”
“Peaceful.”
I laughed. “Um, biggest lie yet.”
She shook her head, seriousness drenching her green eyes. “You are peaceful. You fight for what you believe in. You fight to protect what’s yours, but in your heart… you’re kind and gentle and not a part of this world.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Same as me.”
My heart clenched. The words I love you weighed on my tongue. I hadn’t said it yet. But, fuck, I wanted to.
Her lips twisted into a smile. “You’re also an idealist.”
I nodded, pulling myself back from love and her being mine forever. “Okay, kind of agree with that one.” I had hopes. I had dreams. And I wasn’t settling.
“Those all sound pretty good. Any bad traits I should watch out for?”
She sighed, her eyes latching onto my lips, making me hard and dying to kiss her. “Superficial and vain.”
I sighed dramatically. “Ah, so the perfection ends.” Pressing my body against hers, I murmured, “Pity I agree with them the most.”
She whispered, “Reliable. You’re also reliable.”
The traitorous word slashed through the memory, dumping me back to the present.
Reliable.
Fuck that, I wished I was the most unreliable bastard. I wished that part of the damn Libran personality had screwed up. I was the most reliable person I knew. Pity others saw that—exploited that.
Reliability was the main reason my life fell apart.
I was too damn trusting. Too damn reliable.
Too fucking blind.
I balanced the eraser on my knuckles, flipping it over and over from one side of my hand to the other. Get rid of it.
My heart hurt to think of everything I’d lost. It was time to destroy it.
Not yet.
I can’t.
… not yet.
My stomach clenched thinking about tomorrow. It didn’t just clench, it fucking twisted until my last prison lunch threatened to escape though my fucking nose. For the billionth time, I second-guessed myself. So much could go wrong. So much shit could hit the fan and rain all over my headless corpse.
Wallstreet had given me the key to my future. He’d given me more than anyone, but like anything, it was up to me to make it work.
I checked the small clock on the bedside table. Four hours and counting. Four hours before I would be initiated and say good-bye to my past forever.
The next day I took control of my empire.
If it went well, I’d live to see another sunrise. If it didn’t…
I’m too young to die.
Should’ve thought about that before you agreed to this.
A thrill of excitement ran down my spine. It was a potent mix of fear, retaliation, and the knowledge my life would never be the same.
The moment I entered the disgustingly dirty common room, the large men—some bald, some with ponytails, others with more body hair than facial hair—all turned to face me.
Grasshopper appeared from the tattered boxing ring in the middle of the room, where the rigging had been draped with extra jackets of the Corrupts, along with the items I’d told him to put in place. A large bucket of water, a blowtorch, towels, and a tattoo artist with a fully equipped mobile studio.
I nodded.
He nodded in return.
I hadn’t expected to find help on this side of the world, but Wallstreet had earned not just my loyalty in this Club but Grasshopper’s and Mo’s, too. I felt a kinship with them that I hoped wouldn’t bite me in the ass in the future.
“Everyone, pay attention,” Grasshopper shouted, cutting out grumbling conversation. “As you know, Kill, has been hand-selected by Wallstreet. We all know his instructions, and there won’t be any arguments. Got it?”
The room suddenly thickened with animosity.
Couldn’t really blame them. Staring at me with my unweathered face, no calluses on my hands, and no experience other than prison.
But it wasn’t up to them to decide if they liked me. It was up to them to obey me.
Stepping forward, I clasped a hand on Hopper’s shoulder. “I’ll take it from here.”
A few of the older members snickered, elbowing each other with anger in their eyes. I locked them in my stare. “I know a few of you won’t survive the transition. I have no doubt I’ll strip a few of you from your patches. And I also have no doubt that some of you will try and end this. But I’m here to tell you that I know how your mind works. I know because mine used to work the same way. You feel betrayed by someone you trusted. Furious at change.