Blood (Kings if Sin MC #1)

9. Girl Fight

CHAPTER 9

GIRL FIGHT

I t takes only seconds for Percy to rile up a crowd of eager bikers wanting to watch. Their excitement is palpable. The sour-faced troll strolls into the room with Callan by her side, spiking my rage further.

“What the hell is going on?” Callan asks, sensing the heightened energy in the room.

I step toward her, tossing my hair at her face. It bounces off and lands at her stupid, heeled feet. How is she still wearing them? It’s been hours.

“Your girlfriend wants her ass beat,” I snap. I was raised in a club by men who brutalized people for fun. I learned how to throw a fist before I could talk.

“What the fuck is she talking about?” Callan bends to pick up my hair and holds it out to Georgina. He doesn’t deny she’s his girlfriend, and that stings a little.

“ She has a name,” I spit out. They are the enemy.

“She’s deluded.” Georgina glares, punching the word she. Her icy stare only fuels me.

“Ring,” I demand, jabbing a finger toward the fire exit.

“Go away.” She attempts to shoo me like I’m a bug daring to fly in her vicinity. All eyes are on us. The room crackles with an atmosphere you can cut with a knife.

“Get in the damn ring or I’ll kick your ass all over this club,” I snap. She looks to Callan, her mouth popping open. “Don’t look at him. Look at me. You warned me to stay away. Well, I’m not, so let’s settle this in the ring.”

“Like men,” someone jeers.

She purses her lips. “She might look like a man, but—”

I launch myself forward and grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her against me and dragging her toward the fire exit. She squeals, her arms flailing as anticipation spreads through the room. Someone holds the door open, and I shove her through it, releasing her.

“You’re dead!” she hollers, kicking off her shoes and giving everyone an eyeful of her ass as she climbs into the ring.

I move to the edge, lifting myself up, and she attempts to boot me in the face before I’m even in the ring. I grab her foot and jerk her. Her balance falters. The sound of a thud as her back hits the mat awards me a round of laughter.

I mount her shoulders, pinning her down by sitting on her chest. I rear my fist back. The crack and spray of blood as it smashes into her nose satisfies my wrath.

“Oh my god, you broke my nose,” she cries, bringing her fingers to the split across the bridge. The temptation to keep beating her is strong, but instead I reach for the scissors in my boot. Georgina catches the glint and begins to scream, covering her face. Snatching up a clump of her hair, I snip it and get to my feet. Wide, arctic eyes peer up at me, blood trickling down her cheeks, mouth open as she anxiously runs her hand through her hair.

“Next time, I won’t go easy on you.” I jump down from the ring, and a few brothers pat my shoulder. Diamond nods her approval. Callan is unreadable with his jaw rigid and his eyes a storm of darkness. I rub my hand down my jeans to remove the blood on my knuckles then throw her hair into the air like confetti. I don’t like childish shit. I’ve never fought over a man in my life. Not even Tyler, who was fucking Jenna right under my nose. I’m a believer in women sticking together, but that bitch fucked with my hair.

* * *

I go inside, heading straight for the bathroom to check out the damage to my own hair and wash her blood off.

The door creaks as I’m drying my hands. I look over to see Callan propping it open.

“Rogue. A word.” He jerks his chin.

“What’s with you stalking me to restrooms?”

He doesn’t bother to answer and walks off, letting the door close before I fully exit.

Charmer.

“You can punch me in the face any day of the week, sweet ass,” Dodger groans as we pass through the bar.

“Keep calling me that and I just might.” I smirk his way, and he raises a glass. I could do with a drink. It seems kicking Georgina’s ass won’t get my invite to the club revoked from this group, but Callan is another question.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Callan growls in Dodger’s direction before leading me down a hallway.

“Where are we going?” I ask, following him through a maze of passages until we stop at a door isolated at the end of one.

He offers silence, waving me inside. It’s an office. A huge mahogany desk spans most of the space. A few locker cabinets line the back wall, and video monitors flick through the cameras in the halls, kitchen, and entertainment rooms.

“A bit intrusive.” I fold my arms and hover next to the desk. He takes a seat, his long legs parted and outstretched. He steeples his hands and watches me. Those eyes smoldering with fire, and even though they burn, I still crave the heat. Smug asshole.

“What?” I cave first and hate myself for it.

“Georgina wanted that reaction from you.”

I yawn. “As much as I hate to be predictable, she had it coming.”

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, and my eyes follow the path, wanting to taste the wet glistening there.

“You seem jealous.” His dark chuckle creeps around the room and chases up my spine, sprouting goosebumps over my flesh. Asshole.

Taking the couple steps to his desk, I lean over it and plant my hands on the surface. “Do I? Or is that what you want me to feel?”

Tilting his head, watching, calculating, he says, “Would it make you feel better if I told you she’s not my girlfriend?”

Yes. “No. What happened wasn’t about me being jealous, Callan. I don’t want to fuck you. I’ve already stated that.”

A growl crawls up his throat as he gets to his feet. His hands slam against the desk, fingertips gripping the edge. “You said you wouldn’t, not that you didn’t want to. Now, say it again.”

His rush of irritation floods my panties. “Say what? I won’t fuck you?” My voice betrays my need, airy and wistful.

Coming around the desk, he clasps my hair and moves it away from my neck, pressing the hard planes of his body against my back. My heart skips.

“My name.” His lips brush against the skin beneath my ear, and a ripple of pleasure pulsates through my body. “Say it again.” At just the graze of his fingertips, I forget who I am. “My name, Rogue,” he pushes.

“Callan,” I say, my voice as flat as I can muster.

He scrapes his teeth over my earlobe. His giant palms grasp my hips. “I think you can do better than that.” The timber of his voice vibrates through my body, tightening my nipples. I fight not to grind my ass against him. His hand moves from my hip, gliding across the soft skin of my stomach, evoking a gasp from my lips. Traveling further up my torso beneath my shirt, he teases.

I don’t know why I react to him the way I do. My body has a mind of her own—and it’s filthy. His thumb skims under my tits, then lower, scraping the waist of my jeans. He moves back up, and I want to scream.

“You’re a tease,” I whine, my body wound tight.

“Am I?” He chuckles, those thick lips whispering against my neck. “You said you didn’t want to fuck me.” There’s possession in his tone. His arm tightens around my midsection, bringing our bodies flush. I tilt my head, giving him more access.

“We don’t have to fuck,” I say, breathless as I stroke my hand over his, guiding him up to my aching nipple. An approving sound pushes past his lips and he squeezes, pinching, caressing, punishing. “But we can touch.” I look over my shoulder, my eyes meeting his, the dark depths glazed with lust.

“Touch me, Callan.” His free arm wraps around my shoulder. His hand grips my jaw, tipping my head further back before his lips meet mine. Soft but firm, he consumes me with warm strokes of his tongue. A growl climbs up his throat as he deepens the kiss, his teeth nipping, lips sucking. The caress of his palm isn’t enough to sate the need.

Breaking away, I turn in his arms, grasp his shirt, and drag him forward, my ass hitting the desk. He lifts me so I’m balancing on the edge.

“More,” I demand, flexing my hips against the hard bulge in his jeans. He rests his forehead against mine. Our labored breathing fills the room. An electric storm shines in his eyes.

He tugs my jeans open while gazing over my features, waiting for me to stop him if I don’t want this.

Do I want this? Yes. No . My thoughts rage war with themselves.

All it takes is for him to glimpse my tattoo and it’s over.

Would he kill me? Do I care at this moment?

Reaching for his hand, I swallow the fear and let pleasure take the helm, directing him to the opening of my jeans.

“You want to fuck my fingers, Rogue?” He’s not asking. Shoving his hand into my panties, he parts my folds. Brushing past my clit, my body jolts, my breath hitching. “How many can you handle?” He pushes two fingers inside, then groans as I whimper, relief flooding my system. I hold his wrist and move my hips over him, thrusting as he fucks me with them. His thumb drives down on my clit, stealing my breath.

Sweat beads on my skin. I attempt to rest my head against his chest, but his free hand fists my hair, forcing my head back to look up at him. His teeth dig into his fat bottom lip and he watches greedily, feeding on my pleasure. Warm ribbons of euphoria pulse through my body.

“That’s it, Rogue. Such a needy little slut.” He crashes his lips to mine, his tongue mimicking the movements of his perfect fingers, riding me through my orgasm, claiming me. “Say my name.”

“Pain,” I cry out his road name, reminding myself who it is I’m allowing to touch me.

Once I finally come down, my cheeks burning and chest heaving, he smiles, a genuine tilt of his mouth. “You should never be jealous of anyone.” His brow tugs down as he takes in every inch of me. “Fucking look at you.” He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand, so gentle, intimate. “That glow could light up the night sky.”

Butterflies dance in my stomach. My heart beats wildly. Slipping his hand from my panties, he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks my cum from them. My gaze drops to the patch on his chest.

Fuck .

I scoot off the table. “Good thing I’m not the jealous type then. I have somewhere to be, but I’ll…uh, get you next time, cool?” My eyes flit to his hard-on then to his amused face.

He leans his ass against the edge of the desk and unzips his pants, freeing his long, thick cock. My mouth floods with saliva as he fists his shaft while inhaling the fingers that were just inside me.

“Thought you were leaving, Rogue,” he teases, nodding toward the door. It’s a test. I’m not letting him win this one no matter how much I want to taste him. Turning on my heel, I rush out as fast as possible.

* * *

Walking past the kitchen, I pop my head in when I notice someone inside. “Hey, have you seen Kitty?” Rose is a stunning redhead who, by the looks of her, is ready to drop a kid any second. Her baby daddy is none other than Daddy—who disappeared a couple hours ago with a young woman with a crew cut covered in ink.

“I’m not sure. Maybe her room? It’s past the foyer and down the hall to your right. Number ten.”

Women aren’t allowed a room at the Devils’ clubhouse. Brothers only.

“Thanks.” I offer a wave and make my way to the foyer closet to collect my phone, my head in a haze and legs weak. As I walk down the hall to Kitty’s room, I feel warm all over and don’t know what to do with the fact that I came harder for Callan than I ever have in my life. I lift my hand to knock and the door swings open, stalling my fist midair. A half-naked man steps out.

“Shit.” He groans.