Precarious Read online

  “The fuck? Ash?” Krypt yells.

  “Help!” I squeal.

  I hear his boots crunching as I struggle to get out of the water. I manage to pull myself up the bank, shivering violently. I reach the top and fall flat on my face. My entire body burns all over. It’s so cold I can’t even feel my injuries anymore. Krypt’s boots pound through the silence, and I know he’s getting closer. The fog is starting to clear, but I still can’t see him.

  “Where are you?” he yells.

  “H-h-h-here,” I stammer, my lips trembling.

  I pull myself forward just as he comes into view. He stares down at me and his eyes widen. “What the hell are you doin’?”

  “I was trying to pee!” I yell. “I didn’t see the water.”

  He presses his lips together and I shoot him a warning look. “Do. Not. Laugh.”

  He clearly can’t help himself, because he barks a laugh as he reaches down, pulling me up. “There are plenty of trees near the cave, and you walk all the way out here to piss.”

  “I didn’t want you to hear me,” I protest.

  He wraps his arms around me. “You’re fuckin’ freezing. Come on, we need to get you dry.”

  God, I’m cold, and my legs are aching so badly they actually hurt. Krypt takes me back to the cave and sits me down. He lifts the blanket and then hesitates before saying, “Clothes off.”

  My eyes widen. “I . . . I . . . I . . . beg your pardon.”

  He leans in closer. “I didn’t fuckin’ stutter. Clothes off.”

  I stare at him like he’s lost his mind. I mean, he must have, right? He can’t expect me to strip.

  “Either you do it, Ash, or I will.”

  “I’m not showing my naked body to you.”

  “Nothin’ wrong with it, so I don’t see why.”

  Oh he’s being funny. I glare up at him. “There is something wrong with it. My ass does not look good outside of these jeans.”

  He grins. Asshole.

  “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “Trust me, buddy,” I snort, shifting, “you don’t wanna see what I’m packing. I am not one of your skinny little Barbie dolls.”

  “What makes you think I want skinny little Barbie dolls?”

  I glare at him. “Don’t you?”

  He kneels down in front of me, smirking. “You’ll never know. Now get your clothes off.”

  “Turn around.”

  He rolls his eyes, but he turns around. I quickly strip out of my clothes and reach for the blanket. He lets it go easily enough. I pull it around me, and sigh at its warmth. He turns and stares at me for a moment before lifting my clothes. He lays them out over the other blanket near the fire. “Only you would wet your clothes when we need to get movin’.”

  “Well, I didn’t know there was a damned river there.”

  He raises his brows. “You deaf, sweetheart?”

  “Fuck you.”

  He grins and comes over, sitting down beside me. “You’re freezing.”

  “No shit.”

  He reaches over, taking my shoulders and pulling me closer to him.

  “Ah, what are you doing?”

  “I’m warming you up,” he says, matter-of-factly.

  “No thank you.”

  He chuckles. “Wasn’t askin’ you, babe.”

  “You’re trying to cop a feel, and it’s not going to happen.”

  He pulls me so close I’m tucked into his side, his big arm slung around my shoulder. I can smell the leather of his jacket crossed with the scent of him . . . just man. All man. It’s musky and a little dirty, and my body reacts to it. My skin prickles and I have to press my legs together as I feel my sex becoming damp.

  “Fuck,” he growls. “I can fuckin’ smell you.”

  “What?” I gasp, horrified.

  “You . . . you smell like fuckin’ sex. It’s like your body just flipped a damned switch and let me know what you’re too scared to tell me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” I breathe.

  He makes a grumbling sound and scoots back, shifting so I’m between his legs. He wraps his big arms around me, bringing my back to his chest. I stiffen. Oh boy, this is some situation we’re in right now. I close my eyes, clenching them tightly. I’m trying very hard to think about anything else right now.

  “Stop it,” he growls.

  “Stop what?” I whisper. “I’m not doing anything.”

  “You’re makin’ me fuckin’ hard with that smell.”

  Jesus.

  Do I smell? Really?

  I think it’s bath time for me.

  He parts the blanket just slightly, slipping his hand beneath.

  “Whoa, hand out,” I yell, only it comes out like a shaky, half-assed plea.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t want my fuckin’ hand in there. I’m not goin’ to fuck you, babe.”

  “That depends on what you consider fucking,” I whimper as his fingers find my belly.

  “I consider it fucking,” he murmurs, his breath against my ear, “when my cock is deep inside you, and you’re screamin’ my name.”

  “Okay then,” I breathe. “Well, I consider anything entering my body, fucking.”

  I can nearly feel him grinning against my ear. “I don’t have to put anything in your body to warm you up, Wildcard.”

  “H-h-h-how is this warming me up?”

  His fingers slide up and down my belly, stroking the soft skin there, causing little shivers to break out across my skin. His hand inches higher, finding the swell of my breasts. He gently caresses the skin there, before sliding up and cupping my breast. I gasp and wiggle, but he uses his other hand to press firmly against my belly so I can’t move.

  “Believe me, in five minutes, you’ll be warm.”

  I can’t answer him. My entire body has come alive. It’s been a while since I’ve been touched, and having this man’s hands on me feels so erotic, so forbidden. I close my eyes, biting my lip so hard that I taste coppery blood. He shifts closer to me and I can feel his bulging cock in his jeans, pressing against my back.

  All I can see of him is his booted feet by my side and some sexy-as-fuck black jeans. He presses his lips against my neck, and my nipples turn into little hard tips within seconds. He purrs against me, making a low, rumbling sound that has everything coming to life. In a big, big way.

  “I can make you warm, baby. Just say the word and I’ll make it all fuckin’ better.”

  Oh I just bet he will.

  “I . . .” I croak. That’s it; it’s the best I can do. That would be because his fingers are trailing down my belly towards my extremely aroused sex. His mouth is on my neck, his cock pressed against my back, and he’s about to finger fuck me. Even I’m not that strong . . . I mean come on . . . Who could say no to that?

  “Spread your legs for me,” he growls into my ear.

  My legs seem to do as they’re told before my brain kicks in, and my knees drop open.

  “Yeah, babe, that’s the way.”

  His fingers dip into my sensitive folds and I whimper, arching my back. God, I’m so wet I can feel it coating him, making a slick passage for him to do as he pleases. He makes a deep, rumbling sound in his chest as his fingers find my clit and begin massaging it.

  “Oh God,” I whimper. “Yes.”

  “So eager,” he hisses. “I’m goin’ to fuck you with my fingers, babe. Are you good with that?”

  Good? I couldn’t be better.

  “Yes,” I breathe.

  He releases my clit, which causes a groan to slide from my lips. He slips his fingers lower until he finds my entrance and then gently, he pushes one thick finger inside. I arch again and he uses his hand against my belly to keep me from going too far once more. Holy sweet mother of God, he feels amazing.

  He tilts his fingers up as his lips graze over my neck again. “You’re so fuckin’ tight. Takin’ everything inside me not to fuck you hard and fast right now.”

  Oh.

 
Yes.

  I grind my teeth together as pleasure takes over. Oh . . . yes. He thrusts once more and I come, blissfully slow. My entire body shoots pleasure out in strands that start from my pussy, and work their way right up until my nerve endings stand on alert and my skin prickles. Krypt rewards me with a low, guttural moan that makes this so much better.

  When I stop trembling, he slides his fingers from my depths and lifts them to my mouth. “Open.”

  “What?” I stammer.

  “Suck yourself off me. Now is your time to suck my finger, baby.”

  I hesitate. I’ve never had anyone in my life be so . . . bold. He presses his finger against my lips and I close my eyes, parting my mouth. He slips his finger inside and groans as I close my lips around it. I suck, surprised that it’s in no way near what I thought it would be. He thrusts his cock up against my back and I whimper.

  “You’re goin’ to give me blue balls by the time we’re done here,” he growls.

  I smile, and pop his finger out of my mouth. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? That’s the plan.”

  He chuckles and moves back. I turn and watch him adjusting his jeans before he leans down and takes my clothes. “They’re dry enough. We gotta make tracks.”

  “So that’s it? You’re going to love me and leave me?”

  He grins at me, big and beautiful. “Either that or I can pull my cock out, and you can suck this ache right out of it.”

  I flush and shove to my feet, taking the blanket with me. He laughs as I gather my clothes. “Didn’t think so.”

  We finish packing and dressing, then we’re on our way again. The track becomes narrow and ragged, barely recognizable. We climb over rocks and duck under trees—seriously, it would be hard for anyone to find this place. We don’t talk a whole lot. Both of us are no doubt desperate for a shower and some shelter. The quicker we get there, the better. We only stop once when Krypt gives me some painkillers and food, and then we’re back to it.

  When early afternoon falls, I’m exhausted. I’m thinking we have to be close. God, I pray we’re close. We’re going extra slow, because of my sore body, so I know this has taken far longer than it usually would.

  “Here we are,” Krypt says, snapping me out of my daze. Well, I guess my prayers were answered, because ahead of us is a large, I mean . . . super large cabin sitting in amongst the trees. It’s similar to the one below; only this one has two sheds either side of it and a barbed wire fence. Yes, a barbed wire fence.

  “Why is there fence around it?” I ask.

  “This used to a be a clubhouse, back when Maddox’s dad ran the club. Once it had a track running up into it from the left, for bikes.”

  “Why did they change it?”

  “For a few reasons,” he says, pulling a key from his pack and unlocking the fence. “The first was it’s so far out of town, and they were finding it hard to keep in the loop. Of course it had the bonus of being a secretive place.”

  “And the second?”

  “T-Rex died.”

  “T-Rex?” I ask.

  “Maddox’s old man. He died, and Maddox wanted the club closer, but I think he just hated this place. He had a rough upbringing.”

  “Oh.”

  “So now we keep it in case anyone needs to hide out, and sometimes the boys come up just for a break. It gets used more than you’d think.”

  “How do they get up here?”

  “Same way we did, babe.” He smirks, swinging the gate open.

  “They walk that far?”

  “Clearly it wouldn’t be just an overnight thing. They’d come for a week or so.”

  Interesting.

  I stare ahead as we enter the massive space. While it’s set amongst trees, it’s been cleared enough to allow for the two sheds and the cabin. I take in the cabin first. It’s old, but it’s clearly held its age quite well. It’s huge—I’d guess it has at least four bedrooms inside. The sheds off to the left and right are rusting metal, and are bolted with thick padlocks.

  Krypt walks up the front steps of the cabin and I quickly follow him. The dusty porch is huge, and wraps around the entire thing. It’s got some old furniture, old beer bottles and . . . boots. I raise my brows but don’t ask; I just stay behind Krypt. The door is rickety and squeaks when he pushes it open.

  At first glance, the cabin is quite nice. It needs a good dusting, and the furniture definitely needs updating, but it’s nice. It’s got a large, open living and dining area, which have been designed to incorporate pool tables, a few large lounges, and a bar. There’s a small kitchen in the corner. This all narrows off to a long hall I see doors branching off of. I’m assuming those are the rooms.

  “How many rooms are in this place?” I ask, peering around.

  “Six.”

  “Six?” I gasp.

  Krypt turns to me, and nods. “Yeah, six.”

  I’m shocked. I follow Krypt down the halls. The wooden floors creak as we move. I count all six bedrooms, a bathroom and toilet, a laundry, and a large storage closet. It is a massive place.

  “Take your pick of the rooms, but take it from me: go with the first or the last.”

  “Do I want to know why?”

  He smirks at me. “’Cause when the boys come, they like to bring whores.”

  “Whores?” I blink.

  “Club whores . . .” he says, nodding, as if I’m supposed to understand.

  “Club whores?”

  “For Christ’s sake, that’s what I just fuckin’ said.”

  I cross my arms. “Keep your shirt on, I was only asking.”

  “Club whores enjoy the men, and the men enjoy them. Most clubs have a group of them that hang around. They know what they are. They don’t do relationships, though occasionally one of them wants to become an old lady.”

  “Does that ever happen?”

  He swings a door open and points to the large space. “Yeah, it does, but she’s usually gotta have somethin’ different about her. Most whores aren’t the kind us guys want for old ladies.”

  “Do you have an old lady?” I ask, stepping into the room and staring. It’s massive, with a double bed, an old couch, and a desk, with a small bathroom to the left.

  “Did I just have my fingers inside your pussy?” he asks.

  I blink and turn to him. “What?”

  “My fingers, sweetheart,” he growls. “Were they in your pussy?”

  “Ah, yes.”

  “Then no, I don’t have an old lady.”

  I lean my hip against the doorframe. “I thought it didn’t matter.”

  He raises his brows. “To some it doesn’t; they’ll fuck around. A lot of them have a piece of ass on the side, but most of them respect their old ladies.”

  “Right,” I mutter.

  “Don’t believe me?”

  I push off the door. “I do.”

  “You’re a bad fuckin’ liar.”

  I snort and stop at the bed, throwing myself down onto it. “Oh God, it’s so soft.”

  “Best bed in the house.”

  I sit up, leaning on my elbows. “Did you fuck in this bed?”

  His brows shoot up. “Who asks those kind of fuckin’ questions?”

  “Me. I want to know how many times I need to wash these sheets.”

  He shakes his head, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah, babe, I’ve fucked in that bed. About ten times. So have all the other club members. It’s a clubhouse.”

  “Ew,” I say, leaping off it and quickly stripping all the sheets off the bed. “Tell me there’s washing powder or something in this place?”

  He smirks as I rush past him, and take all the sheets into the laundry room, shoving them into the machine, and tipping a heap of powder in. I set the machine and then turn. “There goes the idea of sleeping being the first thing I do.”

  He nods his head towards the kitchen. “Don’t know about you, but I’m fuckin’ hungry.”

  My stomach growls. “Is there even any food up here?”


  He nods. “It’s stocked.”

  “How?”

  He sighs. “What do you mean how?”

  “How is it stocked?”

  “The boys stocked it.”

  “But how?”

  He spins around. “For fuck’s sake, woman!”

  I cross my arms and stare at him. “Well . . .”

  “Fine,” he barks. “There is a track heading up here that can be accessed only by bikes, it may or may not be still open.”

  I gape. “Are you fucking serious?” I screech.

  He groans and crosses his arms. “Here we go.”

  “You made me walk when we could have . . . rode?”

  “Yeah, I did, because I can’t fuckin’ be on the roads.”

  Dang. He makes a point.

  “We could have ridden with your brothers . . .”

  “No, we couldn’t. If they got pulled up, they’d be fucked.”

  I huff and walk towards the kitchen. “I hope there’s some good food in this place.”

  We get into the kitchen and I pull open the fridge. There’s a good load of food in there ranging from fresh fruit and vegetables, to deli meats and bread. My stomach grumbles. I’m exhausted, and I know for a fact I don’t have energy to make anything special. I pull out some bread, ham and cheese and spin around, placing them on the counter.

  “You eat this?” I ask, laying the bread out.

  Krypt hands me a chopping board and knife. “I’ll eat whatever you give me.”

  I prepare the sandwiches and grab a few sodas out of the fridge. We both drop down onto the couch and sigh. My legs are aching. I wish this place had a bath. Really, that would be awesome. I lift my sandwich and take a bite. Krypt has half of his gone in, like, three mouthfuls. I give him a disgusted look.

  “What?” he mutters.

  “That’s wrong. Seriously.”

  “I’m a man. I eat; I don’t nibble.”

  “I’m not nibbling.” I pout.

  “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Eat like a man, babe.”

  I roll my eyes and keep eating at my own pace.

  “You’re settlin’ very well for a prisoner.”

  “It could be worse,” I say. “You could have killed me.”