Property of Drex (Book 1) (Death Chasers MC Series) (13 page)

“Did it feel like this when Ben touched you?” he asks, smirking against my neck as he pushes one thick digit inside me. But it’s not enough, and he knows it.

“Drex,” I whisper, making it sound like a plea.

“What, baby?” I ignore the fact that he sounds amused while he fucks me with his finger.

“Please,” I whisper again.

His hands move away from me, and I immediately feel the loss. But I don’t turn around because I hear the rustle of clothes being pulled off, telling me he’s about to fulfill my plea.

Hot skin finds my back, and I shiver despite his warm touch. His hands move to my hips, tugging me back, and my head falls to the side when he speaks against my ear.

“Did Ben ever make you beg for it?”

My breath catches in my throat as his finger skates over my clit, leaving it throbbing even more and desperate for touch.

“No,” I finally manage to squeak out, and he shifts behind me, adjusting his height so that he has the right angle.

He pushes my panties down a little more, restricting how far I can open my legs.

It’s erotic torture, because I want to spread them so much wider.

He bends me, pushing me down to an almost ninety-degree angle, but I keep my hands against the glass to brace myself.

The tip of his cock grazes my entrance, as he echoes, “No.” He pushes in hard, surprising me, but holds me to keep me from slamming into the glass, as he buries himself deep inside me. “The answer is no, because he never fucking owned you the way I do.”

He starts moving, setting almost a punishing rhythm, and my hands cling to the surface of the glass the best they can. One of his hands stays on my waist, keeping me anchored to him as he slaps into me from behind. His other hand curls around my hair, using it to tug my head back and force me to look at him through the reflection in the glass as he fucks me raw.

It’s primal, it’s hot, and it’s dirty. There’s no finesse. No romance. But it’s so damn good.

His intense blue eyes hold my gaze, daring me to look away. But I don’t. There’s something exciting about the stare down, something different. Even though his motions are brutal, his eyes aren’t.

The lace of my panties bites into the flesh of my thighs, reminding me I can’t spread my legs any farther. It locks me like this, keeping me right where Drex wants me, and I’m happy to relinquish that small bit of power.

Something silent passes between us, though I’m not sure what. But his expression changes, and his rhythm slows just barely. My breaths come out quicker when he rubs that spot deep inside me, a spot Ben sure as hell never activated.

It’s almost painful because it feels so damn good. Drex’s hips continue to drive into me, and the pressure continues to build in response.

Erotic pain shoots from my toes to my thighs, before I suddenly explode. That’s what it feels like: an explosion.

My eyes are forced shut as painful pleasure wracks my body, stealing my breath, destroying my ability to stand, and rocking me to the core. My head spins as I barely manage to stay conscious, and my stomach contracts just as the walls inside me quiver, feeling way too sensitive, just like the rest of my flesh.

It’s the most viciously incredible orgasm I’ve ever felt, and it seems to set Drex off too, because his guttural groan resonates in my ears. I’m almost incoherent, unable to sense time around me as he picks me up, carrying me back to the couch.

He chuckles low in his throat as I struggle to open my eyes. Holy fucking shit. What did he do to me?

He drops to the couch, bringing me down on top of him, and I pant for air, sounding like a damn dog right now as he strokes my back. His motions are tender, exactly the opposite from the window/wall sex we just had.

I think he kisses my forehead, but I’m too overwhelmed by sensation to be sure.

“That was… um… yeah,” I mumble, giving up on finding words.

He laughs lightly before his fingers start strumming through my hair. I’m not sure how long we lie this way, but it has to be at least a couple of hours, because the sun is slowly starting to fade from sight. We’re both going to need showers now, but it’s worth it.

I could stay like this all night, but I know he probably has more in mind.

“Can I ask you some questions?”

He doesn’t respond immediately, but he doesn’t tense either. Finally, he says, “Sure.”

“What happened to your mother?”

I don’t know if she ran off or if she’s dead, because he’s never spoken about her.

“You want to know this right now?” he asks, sounding somewhat amused.

I look up from my comfortable placement on his chest, and he grins down at me.

“You ruined me. I literally can’t move very many things on my body, so yes. I want to talk right now.”

He laughs while rolling his eyes, but I see the gentle Drex in this moment—the one no one else ever gets to see.

After a minute, his smile falls, and he blows out a breath. “She died when I was little.” My heart breaks for him, but he immediately shakes his head when he sees my eyes. “Don’t give me that look. I can’t even remember much about her, so I’m over it. Have been for years. I don’t need pity.”

It’s impossible not to feel sympathy. It’s not pity.

I reach up, stroking the side of his jaw. His eyes dart back to mine, as though he’s gauging me and my intentions.
Sheesh
. It’s just a show of affection.

“What happened?” I ask, still stroking his jaw.

I lean up, propping against the couch back a little so I can see him without getting a kink in my neck. My hand lazily drifts up to his hair, and despite the gelled tips, I start working my fingers through the strands.

He relaxes under my touch as though he enjoys it, and his arms loosely wrap around my middle, holding me to him.

“She overdosed.”

My ministrations pause, and I suck in a surprised breath. Something I haven’t seen inside the Death Dealers club is drug use. I didn’t give it much thought until now, but it’s surprising there isn’t any of that going on.

“We don’t do business with junkies,” he continues, even though the conversation seems to veer off course. “Junkies are unpredictable and can’t be trusted in business. But sometimes, in our work, the ones on the sidelines end up getting messed up along the way. Mom was a casualty. She couldn’t deal with the life without the help of drugs. The addiction grew until it killed her.”

He says it flatly, without any emotion. It’s as though he’s somehow put up a stone wall around this section of his life, not allowing the memories to penetrate his emotions.

It’s like Drex is an island no one can touch, even if he’s right in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly, resuming my strokes through his hair.

He leans into my touch, and a small, peaceful breath leaves his lips.

“What about your sister?” he asks. “Marks worked for us for a while, and I never knew he had a family. I also didn’t know he had a daughter who died.”

I’m not detached from my emotions the way he is, so the mention of Isabelle is like a knife slicing through me. My chest gets heavy, and the tears teeter on the edge. I fight hard to answer him without crying.

“I was an uh-oh child,” I tell him, which causes his eyebrows to arch. Shrugging, I continue. “Mom got pregnant with me when she was sixteen. Dad was eighteen. They got married immediately, because, well, they were young and thought that’s what you had to do.”

It’s not what he asked, but he lies under me, patiently waiting for me to elaborate. My hand slides down from his hair, and I start tracing the hard lines of his chest, moving down the flow of his golden tanned abs and back up again.

“It was rough on them. But they survived the struggle. Mom thought it made them stronger, but I think my dad just got weaker. My sister was the next uh-oh. The doctors had told my mother that it’d be almost impossible for her to get pregnant again. They were wrong. She was pregnant within two months of getting off her birth control.”

I roll my eyes. “Then later she had twins. So, needless to say, she can still get pregnant despite the fact it shouldn’t be possible.”

He shifts, sliding his hands down my waist to start drawing his own sets of lines.

“Isabelle wasn’t like me. She was wild, carefree, and didn’t give a damn about what the world thought of her. She was two years younger than me. She had this ability to outshine everyone and everything when she was around.”

Sighing, I lean back down, resting my head in the crook of his neck. I feel his lips on my forehead, and I snuggle into him even more. The day Isabelle died is the day I stopped smiling… until I met Drex. It’s also the day I stopped looking for rainbows in a sky full of nothing but dark clouds.

“One night she got busted at a frat party. She’d wanted me to go with her, but I’d told her I had studying to do. I’ll never forget how annoyed she was with me that night.

“My parents went to pick her up. I stayed at home with the twins like the good daughter I always tried to be. Mom and Dad were arguing with her about what she’d done, telling her that they’d had enough. Dad never saw the other car in his lane until it was too late. He tried to jerk out of the way, but it only caused most of the impact to hit the front corner where my mother was in the passenger seat.”

I breathe him in, finding comfort in his scent, before managing to finish.

“It was quick, according to the report. Mom suffered more damage, and barely survived. She still has a limp. My dad didn’t suffer any damage at all. Isabelle wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, and it threw her from the back seat and out the front windshield. Oddly, she barely had a scratch on her, but her neck was broken.”

He holds me tighter, and I absorb the comfort. He kisses my head again, and I thread our fingers together while staring at the connection. It feels good to talk about it without being a sobbing mess.

“So Ben started dating you around the time your sister was killed?” he asks.

“About six months before the accident—give or take. Needless to say, he had to be patient after that. It was pretty much a non-existent relationship for a while, then I struggled to find the ability to stay with him after that. I felt like I owed him for being there for me though.”

“Do you feel like you have to be here with me?” he asks, sounding adorably vulnerable at the moment.

“No,” I answer honestly, looking up at him, then remember what is really going on. “Well, yes, considering the circumstances, but I also want to be here.”

He grunts, but doesn’t say anything else as he gets lost in his own thoughts.

“Why didn’t someone say something about my dad working for you sooner? I assume he did something bad, since you all think I’m so untrustworthy.”

It’s starting to sting that Drex doesn’t trust me. I don’t give a damn about the others, but I do care about what he thinks. It hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it’s been months.

He tenses for a second, as if he’s deciding whether or not to tell me anything. Again, that sting is there, but I try to act unaffected.

“He stole from us. Close to eighty million. It would have ruined our club; that’s how substantial that loss could have been. We pay our guys on the side, and they have their own civilian jobs. We also use that money to fund our other business purchases, and we were in the middle of several at the time.”

He blows out a breath before continuing.

“We found out quickly the money was missing. I’d never trusted him, so I had been discreetly watching our accounts, since he had full access to them. It still amazes me that he managed to keep his family a secret, because I dug into every part of his life—or so I thought. He covered his ass really well, which lets me know he cared enough about you to keep you a secret.”

That doesn’t even sound like my father.

“I stole a pack of bubblegum once,” I say, probably sounding random. “When he figured it out, he had me take it back and apologize to the store clerk. He said stealing was the quickest way to lose your self-respect, and that he was raising me to be better than a thief.”

He purses his lips, looking down at me. “People change, Eve. My mother wasn’t always an addict. Life has a way of beating all the good shit out of you sometimes.”

He’s right. I sure as hell never thought my dad would take his own life and leave his family with no way to take care of ourselves.

My lips press against his chest, and I peer up once more. “Did it beat all the good out of you?”

His smile quirks up, and I run my fingers along his shoulder.

“Never had any good to get beaten out,” he says, sounding so honest that it hurts.

It’s a lie, though. He’s always careful with me, always gentle even when he’s rough. He’s a tall guy with more muscle than it appears, yet he’s always taken care with my body. I’ve never even had a bruise, even though sometimes I could have sworn I would. The times he’s the roughest are my favorites.

And he can’t stand the thought of someone else hurting me. He’s good enough, even if he can’t see it. Because he’s the only reason I’m still me instead of a shell of myself.