No.
It couldn’t be that bad. Mom was a survivor. If she really wanted to leave her husband she could just climb in her car and leave—I knew Teeny. He’d get mad, maybe smack her around a bit. Then he’d pass out and she could run away.
“Why would you send that woman anything?”
I jumped, turning to face Puck. He loomed over me, anger written all over his face, and my breath caught.
“I forgot you were here.”
His face darkened.
“Got what you want from me?” he asked, his voice mocking. Then he reached down and grabbed his dick through his jeans, squeezing it lewdly. “Because you left me hanging.”
Seriously? My eyes narrowed.
“My mom says Teeny is going to kill her,” I said, emphasizing each word carefully. “She needs two grand to get away and come up here. Your dick is not a priority, under the circumstances.”
“Bullshit,” he replied, snorting. “She needs two grand to buy drugs, or pay someone off so they don’t plant your stepdad in the ground, where he belongs.”
I shrugged awkwardly, because he wasn’t necessarily wrong. Not that I wanted to concede the point.
“She sounded different this time,” I said, and I hated the hint of weakness that crept in my voice. He probably thought I was a gullible fool. Maybe I was. Or maybe she’d finally had enough and wanted to get out. Could I ever forgive myself if Teeny hurt her seriously? “I want to save her from him.”
“Come here.”
“Why?” I asked. Puck raised a brow.
“We weren’t finished.”
“My mom just called and told me her husband was going to kill her,” I told him desperately. “And you still want to have sex? What kind of asshole says that?”
He stepped forward and caught my hand, pressing it down against the front of his jeans. His fingers wrapped around mine, squeezing his cock. Dark red stained his cheek, the white of his scar standing out. Sometimes I forgot just how scary Puck could be.
“The kind of asshole who knows she’s playing you. And yeah, I still want to have sex,” he said. “Been thinkin’ about it for five years, ever since I took you away from that hellhole. Remember? Because it was a hellhole and she’s the fucking devil. That bitch pimped you out and now you’re going to send her money? What the fuck are you smoking?”
I stiffened. Jerk. Of course, he wasn’t the only one I was angry at, but he was here.
“She’s my mom,” I told him. “And despite everything, I love her. I don’t know why, but I do and you have no right to judge me for that. I’m not planning to send her a bunch of money. I don’t have a bunch of money. But if I did, it wouldn’t be any of your damned business.”
Puck leaned down, his face right in mine, a muscle in his jaw flexing.
“It’s my business now.”
“Since when?”
“I’m thinkin’ right about the time you came all over me, screaming my name.”
I gasped, pulling my hand away from him. Or rather, trying to pull my hand away, because he wasn’t exactly letting it go. Then his other hand came around the back of my neck, jerking me forward into him. His lips covered mine and his tongue tried to push inside. But I still heard my mom’s voice in my head. “He’s going to kill me.”
I bit Puck’s lip, and it wasn’t a love bite.
“Jesus,” he said, jerking back. His tongue flicked out, exploring the small cut, which was starting to bleed.
“We made a mistake,” I said, trying not to look at him. This was hard, considering he was still gripping the back of my neck. I tried to break free, but his fingers tightened, reminding me how much stronger than me he was.
That’s when the reality of the situation hit.
I might be worked up about my mom, but there was a big, strong man holding me who was worked up over the fact that he hadn’t gotten his happy ending.
A scary biker man.
I licked my lips, suddenly worried for a different reason.
“I don’t want to have sex,” I blurted out.
“You did five minutes ago.”
My eyes searched his, looking for a hint of softness or compassion. All I saw was blazing need tempered with anger. Puck’s hands tightened. I raised my free arm and touched his chest, wishing I could reach in there and find whatever compassion he might keep hiding deep inside.
There certainly wasn’t any visible on the surface.
I swallowed. “I really want to go to sleep. Alone. Tonight wasn’t what I planned and I have a lot to think about.”
“So now you’re telling me you didn’t want it? Because my fingers are still sopping wet from your cunt. Call me crazy, but that usually means a bitch is into it.”
Bitch? Oh, I didn’t like that. Not one bit. I forgot my momentary fear, defaulting back to pissed off. This was better—anger worked for me.
“Let. Me. Go,” I gritted out. Puck glared at me, then let go so abruptly I almost fell over.
“You’re crazy,” he said, stepping back. “I’ve done nothing but take care of you, yet one phone call from that cunt and you forget all about me. Don’t fucking pretend you weren’t as into this as I was—now you’ve got what you wanted and it’s all over.”
“Yeah, I guess I’m guilty,” I hissed. “I’m attracted to you, asshole, so when you started pushing I didn’t say no, because it felt good. Is that a crime? Maybe you think I’m a slut, so fuck you for that. But even sluts get a vote in who they sleep with. There’s something scary in you, Puck. I know what you really are, and I don’t want anything to do with it. You’re strong and you hit people and I want to talk to someone about my mom, but all you care about is sex!”