Rocket (Hell's Handlers MC 5)

She took a step back toward where she’d dropped her purse just as Logan’s barked, “No,” cut through the room.

Chloe halted, her gaze meeting his. “No?”

His mouth curled up in a sinful smile that had her pussy spasming. Damn, the man was something to look at. But she’d still need the lube. Even though Logan had her wetter than she’d been since she started this DIY form of therapy, experience told her she’d dry up shortly after penetration. Just a side effect of not being overly into any of the men she took back to the hotel. That and the fact that the most horrible night of her life was always lurking somewhere in her subconscious.

“Just a condom. Then how about you climb up here and straddle my face? We’ll see if we can’t get you lubed up the old-fashioned way.”

Faltering mid-step, Chloe nearly fell on her face. His request stole her breath. Deep down, she knew if this man got his mouth on her, it’d be mind-blowing.

But it was against the rules. The rules she set up to remain in control and avoid a panic attack. The rules that kept her sane and moving somewhat forward in life. Even if the thought of it had her wetter than she’d been since long before she was kidnapped, she couldn’t do it.

Could she?

He was restrained. He couldn’t steal her control. Couldn’t take over and dominate her.

Couldn’t hurt her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHLOE WAS GONNA bolt. She had that wide-eyed panicked look a deer got when staring into the headlights of a truck barreling down at seventy miles per hour. Any second now, her fight or flight juices would shoot through her system and he’d be left staring at the smoke rising from the skid marks where she once stood.

She blinked, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm slightly faster than normal. Rocket’s attention fell to her tits as they moved with her breath. Both nipples were puckered to tight points. The room wasn’t cold. He dropped his focus even lower, to the swatch of lace at the juncture of her thighs. Right where the fabric was slightly darker than the rest of her panties.

Because it was wet. Which meant her body liked his offer, but her mind was too afraid to reach out and take it.

She swallowed, shoulders straightening a hair as though she was injecting some starch in her spine. Maybe she wouldn’t flee. Here he was thinking he’d pushed too hard and too far when maybe what she actually needed was another nudge. “Come on,” he said, issuing the challenge. “Bring that pussy to me. I’ve been dying for a taste of it since I felt you come on my cock last week.”

Her breathing grew even more ragged, and she licked her lips. Damn, she had no idea how sexy that tiny action was.

And Rocket had no clue why he’d made Chloe’s pleasure his number one goal in life. But there he was, tying himself to a fucking bed for a woman when all he wanted to do was toss her on her back, dive between her legs and not come up for air until she was screaming for mercy. The good kind of screams.

“I-I don’t think so. That’s not what I like.”

They were a long way from his fantasy scenario. Not that they’d ever get there. This was it. Had to be it. Not only could his association with her put his club at risk, it was utterly insane to form any kind of attachment with her. Rocket’s past was too fucked up to bring a woman, any woman, too deeply into his life. Esposito hounding his ass was a reminder of that fact.

“You don’t like it? Which part don’t you like? Having a man tongue your clit? Suck it? Straight up fucking you with their tongue?” The idea of another man doing any of those things to her had murderous thoughts he had no business thinking trying to worm their way to the forefront of his mind.

“No, I—” She blinked, opened her mouth to say something else but snapped it shut again. Yeah, she hadn’t expected him to call her bluff.

Come on, baby. You know you want it.

Chloe might be playing the part of a dominant ever since she was assaulted, but Rocket was almost certain the role wasn’t who she was pre-kidnapping. He’d bet his fucking Fat Boy, before her safety was shattered, she’d preferred a man to take charge in the bedroom, maybe even needed it to get off. Nothing about their previous encounter was actually about sex. It was strictly Chloe needing power over men. She just knew no other way to capture that feeling than fucking. Take the same act used against her and turn it on its head. She was doing it to survive, to heal. Yet the only time she’d been able to come was when he stole that control and fucked her into oblivion.