RIDING DIRTY (Steel Titans MC Book 4) by Franca Storm (best books for students to read txt) 📗

He tore his mouth from mine, looking me up and down like I was his prey ready to devour whole. “You sure you want this, darlin'? You know my rep, know the way this goes down with me.”

I sneered. “You’re seriously asking me if I can handle you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Slade—”

He lunged forward and wrapped his hand around my throat. Darkness clouded his features as he told me in a low, rumbling growl, “It ain’t all pleasure, Willa.”

I looked him right in the eye and assured him, “I’m well aware.” He’d warned me last time.

“You’re down for this?” he asked, tightening his grip around my throat a little.

It had me rasping in response, “I like a little darkness.”

That seemed to seal it for him, because he squeezed my throat even harder, hard enough to make me gag. He groaned, clearly getting off on it.

He wasn’t the only one.

I was getting wetter by the second, pushed up against the bookcase, a formidable badass holding me at his mercy, a man who knew well how to deal out a fucking to remember.

As his eyes bored into mine and he remained still just watching me, taking in my reactions to him, the anticipation of what was to come heightened every moment. It was driving me crazier with every second that passed.

But that was clearly what he wanted.

To make me desperate.

To push me far enough so that I’d beg.

To rule the situation.

To conquer me.

After all this time, it was finally going to happen.

Or, so I thought.

Until it all shattered.

He abruptly released me and stepped back.

“You got somewhere I can clean up?” he asked, gesturing to his bloodied and dirty state.

What?

My mind was in a haze, still in fucking mode, the anticipation and need holding me in another headspace.

“Willa!”

“Right, yeah. The bathroom is just down the hall to the left.”

“All right.”

He stared at me intently for a couple of moments.

And then he turned and walked away.

Not again.

6

~Slade~

LONGEST SHOWER EVER.

And ice-fucking-cold, to boot.

To say I’d needed to calm the hell down was the definition of an understatement.

It had been a real long time since I’d gotten that riled up. Especially sexually. Jesus fucking Christ. That woman could get under my skin like nothing else.

It weren’t just the physical want. It was goddamn mental too.

My body and mind lost control with her.

I couldn’t fucking believe it. It shouldn’t be possible.

I was shut down. Had been for a long time.

It kept me level-headed, made it possible to react unemotionally, just with facts and reason. It’s kept me alive. And it also stopped shit like this from happening.

What the fuck was it about her?

Hell, I knew damn well what it was.

We were cut from the same cloth. She lived in the same world that I did. The darkness that had been fighting to eat me alive for decades had a hold of her too. I could see it in her. I could feel it all over her. Her and me were one in the same.

And there was nobody out there that’d ever come close to that, never come close to getting me in that way. All the way.

The things I’d done, even the worst kind, I’d had my reasons. I weren’t a psycho who did fucked-up shit on a whim, or for some sick thrill. I’d only ever done what I’d had to do. To survive. To protect. But even with that being the case, I’d still had to justify and defend myself all my life. With my wife. With former friends. Even with the club. It was all because it took an iron stomach and hardcore resolve and a certain detachment to be able to do what really needed doing. Most people couldn’t rise to that. That also meant that most people couldn’t understand it either. Understand me.

I’d gotten used to it. I’d even seen it as an advantage. If nobody really got you, they couldn’t manipulate you, couldn’t figure you out, or get one over on you.

I was on my way to leaving all of that behind, of needing to live that way in order to survive. But I still had some shit to get through first before I could taste that freedom. I couldn’t risk letting Willa, or anybody, in.

I snatched a towel off a hook on the back of the door and wrapped it around my waist. That was when I caught sight of my reflection in the oval-shaped bathroom mirror.

It had me stopping short and eyeing the sight staring back at me.

Cuts and bruises marred my skin. Wrinkles were etched into my face, dark circles under my eyes, the things bloodshot from drinking and going at things way too hard for way too long.

All signs of my youth were fading away with every passing day. With that was my tolerance for this kind of life too. Shit like what had gone down tonight should be a thing of the past. I’d tried hard to make it that way, steering the club legit. But life weren’t that cut and dry. It weren’t that easy to avoid the bad and the filth. It would keep coming back around every now and then, as long as a guy like me was top dog. My legacy wouldn’t let it be no other way.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered to myself, as I turned away and scrubbed my hand over my face.

What the shit had happened tonight?

Everything had gone to hell, not a single thing managing to go to plan. I’d let Nolan get to me. Willa had been right. The second I’d let it get personal, I’d lost my shot to end him. I was desperate to get it all over and done with. Not just Nolan either. The Strikers too.

I needed to dial it back.

Dammit. I knew what that entailed.

Keeping off Nolan’s radar for a while. Staying here. Benched. Stilled. Fucking well shackled.

Best smooth things over with Willa then. I hated bad blood lingering. I couldn’t breathe easy with it, so