Hellraiser (The Devil's Own #2) (4 page)

“Holy fuck!” I pant as he drops my leg to the ground, rising in front of me. He wraps his glistening lips around the rim of the bottle with a grin and takes another swig before unclipping his belt buckle and dropping his jeans to the ground. “Bend over.”

“What?” I look down to my heels and do the math. I guess if I was on my tippy-toes I could reach.

He walks up to me, gripping my panties in his hand and tearing them off. “Did I stutter?”

I raise my eyebrows. Turning around, I place my hands on the cold brick wall. A dash of wind zips past my back, setting off a stinging sensation over the cuts I had gained from the friction of the brick on my back. His hand grips around the back of my neck, bending me over before his thick shaft glides over my ass and my eyes roll to the back of my head, my hair falling to one side. His fingers glide to the front of me, his thumb pushing against my clit as he presses inside me, and when he pulls out slowly, my walls contract around his shaft, clenching around him. My hands wrap around my ankles and I turn my head over my shoulder, smirking at him as he continues to pound into me relentlessly.

Pulling up his jeans, he does up his belt buckle and I take a sip of my drink, wiping the excess vodka off my lips. “My name’s Melissa.”

He snatches his bottle back off the table muttering, “Don’t care,” before walking back around the corner to the party.

Running my fingertips through my hair, I pull it all up into a ponytail before making my way back to Phoebe and the girls. I didn’t expect a friendly exchange, but I wasn’t expecting an asshole one either. Is that one of the requirements to patching into a motorcycle club? You must be an asshole? “Fuck it.” I brushed off my shoulders and walked back out to the party.

Melissa

“And I quote, ‘Don’t care’.” I suck the cake batter off my finger as I relay the events from last night to my chief baker, Peter Rodriguez. The man can bake.

“Mmmm, well, girl. I think you got played.”

I scoff, taking another swipe of the side of the bowl just as the front door to my bakery dings. “Played?” I jump off the counter. “No way, honey. Melissa never gets played.” I unhook my apron that hangs on the back of the door, which separates the kitchen from the front counter and dining area, before wrapping it around my waist. I’m tying it behind my back when I walk out and see the same five bikers from last night sitting in the corner. One of them pulls another empty table toward theirs to join them together and I roll my eyes, trying to busy myself with something other than the dark blue eyes that are peering at me like I’m his breakfast for this morning. I know how that mouth eats and the appetite that comes with it.

I walk towards Carrie, the waitress I had hired a couple weeks ago. She’s reliable and hardworking. I don’t know how I got so lucky. “Hey, you serve them?” I ask, hitching my thumb across to their table.

She nods. “Yes, they just got coffees for now though.” 

I take the notepad out from under the cash register, swearing under my breath before I plaster a fake smile onto my mouth when I reach their table.

“Hey, you guys need anything else?” I look around at all of them.

“Not for me, thanks,” Beast replies with a smile. I nod my head, just about to make my way back to the counter when the man from last night clears his throat.

“You look familiar,” he says, running his eyes up and down my body. I tilt my head, observing him, wondering if he’s being serious or not. We were both drunk, but
really
? Is he
really
going to act like he doesn’t remember who I was?

“That’s because I was at the clubhouse last night, and…” I pause, realizing that he probably
doesn’t
remember who I am. Swallowing past the bile of rejection that was building in my throat, I shrug. “Never mind,” I answer, collecting the empty cups that were on the table and stacking them into my arms.

The asshole laughs. “You a sweet butt?”

“No, I’m not. I’m Melissa, Phoebe and Meadow’s…” I drag my eyes over Beast before smiling back at the asshole, “…best friend. Thanks for making me aware that I look and
feel
like a whore, though, I appreciate that.” His smile grows wider. Asshole. I turn around and walk back to the counter.

“What was that about?” Carrie asks with a smile, nudging her head towards the table.

I shake my head. “Nothing. That was… nothing.” Untying my apron, I fold it, bend down, and place it under the counter. I’m standing back up when Beast is directly in front of me, fishing cash out of his wallet with an absent look on his face.

“You look confused, Beast.”

“Not confused. Sorry about not remembering you… I was a little distracted,” he replies.

“I know,” I answer, wiping my hands off on a towel before placing them on my hips. “It wasn’t you who should’ve remembered me. Anyway, what can I get for you?”

He pauses briefly, considering what I had just said, but shrugs it off. “The address to Meadow’s work. I wanted to catch up with her later, but I might go down there now.”

Nodding my head, I pull out some paper and a pen from under the cash register before scribbling down the address to Meadow’s work and handing it to him.

Just as he’s about to turn around, I yell out, “Beast?”

Spinning back around to face me, he raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

I fold my arms in front of myself and swallow every single inch of my inner thoughts that is screaming at me to leave this alone. “Look. I’ve not known Meadow for as long as Phoebe, but there’s one thing about her that I’m absolutely sure about.” I step through the little door that separates the workers and the customers. “She hasn’t been with
any
men. She doesn’t bat an eye at
any
men and, trust me, she has had
tons
of opportunity. Tommy, for one.”

I pause, watching his reaction to my bringing up Tommy and Meadow. Nothing, zilch. He’s like an emotionless human.

He waves his hand as though I’ve already taken enough of his precious time.

“If you hurt her, I don’t care how big you are. A .50 will cut right through all that bulky muscle.” I flick my fingers up and down his monstrous form.

“Yeah, I don’t plan on hurting her. You can retract your claws, feisty one.”

I smile. “Good. I’m glad. Have a good day, y’all!” I holler before walking back towards the kitchen.

Hella

Bringing my beer to my mouth, I watch as Travis, the bitch boy in the Sinful Souls, grinds his dick up against one of the club whores. Laughing, I drop my beer to the table, push my chair back, and walk toward the epic failure.

Gripping my fingers around hers, I pull her body into mine and out of Travis’ grip, the scent of cheap perfume and tobacco washing over me. Bringing my face down to her ear, I push her platinum blonde hair out of the way before bringing my hand to her stomach and sprawling it out. “You wanna fuck a real man?” I growl into her ear, my eyes locked onto a devastated Travis.

The curving of her cheek presses against my nose as I rub my dick into the back of her ass. Travis folds his arms in front of himself, his Justin Bieber hair dropping over his forehead. “Fuck you.”

My eyebrows shoot up and I chuckle, taking my hands down to the waist of her little miniskirt that hugs her figure like skin. “Fuck me?” I taunt with a smirk, gripping her shoulders in my hands and turning her around. “Don’t mind if she does.”

I grip the back of her thighs and lift her up. Peering over her shoulder, I watch as Travis pulls at his hair in frustration before making his way out the door, slamming the palm of his hand into the dry wall on his way out. I smirk at whoever the fuck this is, looking down at her hot pink lips.

She says, “Come on, I have a room here that the boys let me use.”

I laugh, my smirk staying on my mouth.

“Aye!” Travis yells from across the room as he reenters. He came back. Maybe I should give the little dweeb more credit. I scan his body up and down. Or not. “That girl I saw you with last night? She’ll be riding on my dick tonight.”

I throw my head back before running my piercing over my bottom lip. “Like I fucking care. I can give you a play-by-play of what she tastes like. You’ll still be able to taste my dick all over her.”

He retreats back out the door, slamming it as he exits again. Bringing my eyes back up to the slut in my hands, my smirk drops at the same time as her body falls to the ground.

“Ouch!” She squeals, getting back to her feet.

“Fuck off.” I point toward the door.

She walks toward me in one last weak attempt, placing her hand on my chest and running her tongue across her lip in a way that’s supposed to be seductive.

My hand flies up to her throat and I pull her face towards mine. I tilt my head and run my eyes over her face. Blue eyes, bleach blonde hair,
tig-ass bitties
and a fucking Monroe piercing. Bringing my lips to her ear, I whisper, “One, don’t ever touch me again. And two, you won’t be able to handle the kind of rough I play,” I tell her before shoving her back until her ass hits the floor again. I turn around and make my way to the table where Frost, Nyx, and Ripper are sitting there drinking their beers. Pulling out my chair, I take a seat and smile at them. “What?”

They all shake their head in muffled tones. “Nah, nothing, brother.”

Pulling out my phone, I text Beast.

I stare down at my phone, my eyebrows drawing together. “Melissa,” I mumble under my breath, my eyes going in and out of focus. Pulling out my wallet that’s lodged into my pocket, I flip it open when a smirk crawls onto my lips. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Melissa

“Where’d you disappear off to last night?” Phoebe asks between shifting down gears. We’re on our way to Sinful Souls’ clubhouse. Zane, the president of Sinful Souls, has called a meeting. Usually when something is happening with the club, they call everyone in, and because Phoebe and I are best friends, I usually fall under that. Before I moved away to college, we used to hang out at the clubhouse a lot. I had a little crush on her brother Blake and their now-VP Ade Nixon. That was, until I came back from college fresh with my new Melissa mindset and got laid flat on my back by Ade Nixon only for him to toss me out the next day. He was worth it though; the man’s a good lay.

“Hmmmm, I don’t even remember his name,” I mutter under my breath, and Phoebe laughs.

“All class.” Phoebe shakes her head, pulling into the high-wired gates. “His name is Hella, if you’re referring to the man you eye-fucked last night. And I’m telling you right now, those boys don’t play. My brother and these psychos are nuts, but The Devil’s? They’re in a whole different ball park, Melissa. Be careful.”

Shutting the car door, I round to her side before we begin walking towards the clubhouse. “I’m not proud of that, but I regret nothing.” 

“Which one?” she whispers in my ear. “Just to be sure I have it right, point him out when we get inside and I’ll tell you how fucked you really are,” Phoebe answers as we sneak inside the clubhouse bar. Everyone was sitting quietly listening to Zane talk about our current issues and why we’re being put on lockdown. Clutching my duffle bag, we both take a seat at the table veered toward the back. I look to Phoebe and her eyes widen. I widen mine back before I start scanning the room. When my eyes fall on the big, tall broad-back with the same cap flipped on backwards and the number “112” tattooed into the back of his neck with angel wings spread out on either side, I swallow down and nod my head toward him. Phoebe follows my line of sight, throwing her hand over her head to signal the one wearing a cap and I nod, dropping my duffle bag to the floor and sinking into my chair. 

She scoffs, shaking her head.

I look toward her and mouth, “What?” 

Her eyebrows raise and she chuckles before leaning into my ear. “Let’s just hope he continues not remembering you—for your sake. Or better yet, I’d start praying that he doesn’t find you attractive.”

“Who is he?” I whisper into her ear. 

She laughs again, shaking her head and leaning back into my ear. “That’s Hella, and honey? I’d stay away if I were you.”

But she’s not me. Phoebe likes to walk a little on the wild side, but I paved the wild side. 
“Challenge accepted.”

Her eyes widen in shock. She shakes her head. “I warned you.”

After Zane wraps up the meeting, Beast and Meadow walk in with him giving her a kiss on the cheek, and I roll my eyes. Didn’t take her long. I love Meadow, and she’s sweet, but I hope she’s making the right decision when it comes to Beast.

They both approach us at the table. I run my hands over my bare legs wishing I had put warmer clothes on instead of opting for short shorts and a loose off-the-shoulder long-sleeve top. “Hey,” Meadow says, taking a seat on the chair next to me.

“We gotta go.” Beast leans down, kissing her head.

I look to Meadow with a blank expression.

“What?” She explores my expressions.

I laugh, shaking my head just as another big man steps up beside Beast. I don’t have to look directly at him to know who it is. My thighs clench at the familiar smell of cologne, leather, and musk that’s now assaulting my senses. Reaching for my drink, I take a long pull of it until my eyes go up to meet the new bystander. When our eyes lock, my face instantly heats and my heartbeat pounds against my chest. A smirk pulls across his mouth and my eyes narrow in on him. “What?” I snap at him. Beast chuckles under his breath while Meadow looks between both Hella and I as we stare each other down. Phoebe mutters, “Here we go,” before picking up her drink. I drag my eyes away from his penetrating glare, fixing them on the wall in front of me. His body moves from my peripheral vision and my body relaxes briefly until that familiar smell comes in tenfold and warm lips run along the rim of the back of my ear. “Aww, what?” he coos teasingly into my ear. “You didn’t think I forgot how sweet that pussy was, did you?” His growl vibrates over my ear and travels deep into my core.

My eyes close. I raise my drink to my lips and down the rest of it. “I was counting on it,” I mumble.

He laughs, standing straight before tapping on Beast shoulders and looking back at me one last time. “See you later,” he says with a smirk before walking out the door.

I let out the breath I had no idea I was holding and pick up my empty glass. Beast watches us and nods his head. “We’re going to meet with the Russians just to make sure everything is sweet, won’t be long.”

I look to Phoebe, finding her laughing under her breath.
“You. Are. Fucked.”

“What?” I ask, taking her empty glass.

“I know ‘
owned’
when I see it, especially when it’s coming from a man wearing a cut.” She laughs again, running her fingers through her long, ash blonde hair.

“Last time I checked, homegirl, you were dating a rock star.”

Her eyes narrow. She smiles. “Yeah, whatever. Go get us drinks. No more orange juice! I need alcohol.”

Yeah, I might need more than orange juice to get me through tonight too.

Reaching the bar, I place the glasses down and smile at the young prospect who’s dishing out drinks. “Hey, could I get one orange juice and something strong for Phoebe?”

He laughs, the smile lines around his soft cheeks showcasing his young age. “Yeah, no problem.” He nudges his head. “I’m Travis.”

I smile, pushing my orange juice out of the way slightly so I can lean my elbows onto the bar. “Melissa. How old are you?” I tilt my head. He’s obviously young and isn’t as built as the rest of the guys here, but he’s cute.

“Old enough.” He winks.

“How about I tell you my age and you tell me yours?” I edge him to tell me his age.

“What?” He smiles, placing ice into a glass. “Like, you show me yours and I’ll show you mine?”

I laugh, throwing my head back. “Something like that, only less pedophile-ish.”

“Hi!” One of the club whores, Lisha, pulls out a stool next to me.

I swing my head toward her. “Hi…? Can I help you?” I initiate.

She laughs, shaking her head, her long white hair falling over her shoulders. Images of the poor horse who’s running around without a tail thanks to her long locks comes flashing through my brain. “Nope, not unless you have a cock.”

“Wow,” I mutter, looking back at Travis who watches her nervously. He walks toward the back of the bar. When the door opens, I see Ashley, one of the other barmaids, putting bottles into a crate. Swinging my eyes back to the girl next to me, I smile. “You really take the whole,” I flick my hands around the room, “club whore thing seriously.”

She picks up my glass of orange juice and hands it to me. “Oh, you have no idea.” She returns to her table of whores.

Rolling my eyes, I drink the entire glass of orange juice as my eyes scan the clubhouse. Not much has changed since we were in school. The bar still lines along the back wall opposite the sliding doors that lead onto the deck, which overlooks the entire front of the gated clubhouse. They hold church in the room that is to the right of the bar next to the runway and pole that sits at the end, and there are rooms upstairs where some of the boys sleep when they need it. Outside, they have a huge garage sitting to the left of the clubhouse that holds all their toys and break-downs. The clubhouse is situated down an industrial area of Westbeach. Everyone in this town knows Sinful Souls own this town. For better or worse, these boys have made sure the people of Westbeach are taken care of, and always will.

Pushing off my stool, I approach the stereo when my brain begins to fuzz. My vision distorts and I fly my hands out to the chair I was passing to stop me from falling to the ground. Raising my hand up to my head, I let out a sigh. “Whoa.” My eyes drift to where the table of skanks are sitting, whispering and laughing under their breath. I think nothing of it and continue to the stereo. Picking up the iPod, I smirk, pushing play on
The Weekend “Wicked Games”
before smiling and walking towards the pole. Sweat begins to trickle over my face and my heart rate picks up faster. Something deep inside me knows that something isn’t right, but my brain is in too much mush to comprehend it. Shuffling out of my loose jersey, I fling it to the group of prospects from both The Devil’s Own and Sinful Souls that were sitting around a table. Wolf whistles sound out around the table and I grin, pulling my hair tie out of my hair and fluffing it up. Climbing onto the catwalk stage, I grip the pole, swinging my body around it before climbing up it carefully. I do pole fitness for my weight training. Under other circumstances, I can probably give a stripper a run for her money, but not today. I think about doing the half-flag invert to brass monkey, but think better of it. I drop down in superman instead, dipping low when my feet hit the ground again and continue rubbing against the steel pole as the wolf whistles continue around the place. My head begins to spin, my eyes dropping closed every three seconds. I flip my hair over my shoulder and smile down at the crowd of bikers that have accumulated at the end of the stage. Meadow walks toward the stage and yells at me from down below, shoving through the mass of muscle. “Melissa!”

“Come dance, Meadow!” I smile and come-hither my finger at her while body rolling.

She shakes her head, reaching for my arm. “Get down, quick. How much did you have to drink?”

I follow her, jumping down off the stage. My head flushes out and everything turns black for a few seconds before they come back into focus and I see her frown.

Wrapping my hands around her neck, I slur, “I’m sorry. I don’t know… was I drinking?” I question.

Her eyebrows draw together. “You’re obviously drunk, Melissa. Come on, we’ll get you a glass of water.” She begins to lead me by my arm toward the bar and my eyes flash out every three seconds as everything zones out softly. Meadow runs her hands up my arm and the feeling has my thighs clench together.

“Meadow? Take your hand away from me, I might rape you.”

“What?” she scoffs, dragging me with her. Shit, how can I be so horny when I feel like I’m a second away from passing out? Meadow pulls out a barstool and pushes me down onto it before ordering Ashley to get me a water.

“Meadow…” I begin, tilting my head at her. “I don’t remember drinking anything but my juice.”

“Are you sure?” Her eyes search mine, taking the jug of water and pouring some into a fresh glass. “Where’d you get your orange juice from?”

I take the glass of water from her. “I… um…” I swing my head around the crowd to search for the club slut, but everything starts to spin faster and I close my eyes briefly to get my vision into check. When my vision clears on the club slut and her laughing hyenas, everything sets into focus and my body stills. Pushing off my barstool with thoughts of smashing her smug face into the ground, I get to my feet only for them to give way from underneath me and I drop to the ground in a hot mess.

“Melissa!” Meadow yells, dropping to the ground next to me, removing her cardigan and placing it over my shoulders. “Are you cold? Are you okay?
Shit!
Where the hell is Phoebe?”

Meadow places me back onto my barstool as Ashley rushes over toward us from behind the bar.

“Is she okay? What’s happened?” Ashley asks, running her hands up and down my arms.

“I don’t know. Melissa?” Meadow asks, searching my face.

“Meadow, it was Lisha, the club whore, and god… why am I so horny?”

“Lisa?” Meadow answers, ignoring my comment.

Ashley shakes her head. “No, she means Lisha.” Ashley’s eyes scan the area until they narrow and her finger points towards the hyena sluts. “It was Lisha. She has a little
thing
for Hella since he’s been here.”

I laugh under my breath, my eyes struggling to stay open. My mouth parts and I’m just about to ask what this has to do with the cunt who has a tongue angels would sing for until Meadow cuts in. “What the hell did she do to her?”

Ashley shrugs. “I’ll find out, if you want. But if I’m reading her symptoms correctly, I’d say she slipped her a molly.”