Page 8 of Cocked Hammer

“We brought some entertainment with us.” Viktor proudly beamed to the men of the motorcycle gang. My calves trembled inside of my black lace-up boots, and my heart ached within my chest. I could feel Sledgehammer’s gaze on me from across the room, but I couldn’t bring myself to glance at him. Not yet. Looking him in the eye meant that this moment was real. I was not fooled. There was a very real possibility he might not give a damn who I was or remember me. I remembered him, though.

A tattooed hand took mine, and humiliation burned my very soul. I didn’t know what I expected to happen, but this was never a consideration. Neither of our lips whispered a word as he led me away from everyone else and down the hall. With each step we took, my heart pounded in my ears.

“What the fuck is this?” Sledgehammer harshly spat out as soon as he closed the door behind us.

“What?”

“This!” His rough fingertips lightly touched the spot on my cheek that I had forgotten about. My eyes closed, and hot tears of shame burned behind my eyelids. If I had known where we were coming, I would have tried to cover it better with makeup. I did try, but there was really no point. The black and purple bruise that appeared almost instantly after Dimitri hit me was unmistakable.

“It’s nothing,” I lied, and we both knew it.

“The fuck it is,” he snapped, pacing the length of his room, and stilled in front of me again. “Who did this?” His knuckles whitened as he balled them into fists and straightened his arms to his sides.

I sighed. The tension between us was unbearable, and I didn’t know if it was that or he just happened to be present when I had finally had enough. My long fake eyelashes brushed against my skin when my eyelids closed and reopened as I considered what I was about to do. Up until this point, I had used the pleasant memory of meeting Sledgehammer as an escape from the hell that was my life, but I wasn’t an idiot. He was only being nice to me. However, when your entire world was a tightening noose around your neck, sometimes one nice gesture was all it took to find the strength to put your feet onto the stool beneath your dying body and save your life. The urge to keep the truth about my life a secret was stronger than my need to breathe. It was pointless to allow your body to breathe when someone else’s hands were smothering your life under plastic.

“It doesn’t matter. Especially to you,” I sneered, trying to sound like as much of a bitch as I could. He was better off hating me than knowing me.

“I don’t need this shit, and I should walk the fuck away right now…but that’s not my style. No one should raise their hand to a woman. Even I know that, and I’m a fucking asshole,” he admitted as his hands unclenched and his muscles flexed as they ran over his bald head.

“I don’t think you’re an asshole,” I declared in a small voice, exhaustion from the constant back in forth in my head getting the better of me.

“You don’t know me. I’m one of the biggest assholes to ever walk this earth,” he gently said as his boots strode across the room, which didn’t hold much more than a bed and dresser.Usually, when I suddenly said something rude, no one cared. They swallowed the hatred I fed them and spouted the cancerous animosity loud enough for the entire world to take note. Not Sledgehammer. His features softened, and he whispered.

“Me too,” popped into my mind and spilled out of my mouth before I could edit myself anymore. My attention shot upward at once, and I lost myself in his chestnut brown filled with confusion.Shit!

“Sugar,” his curled finger hooked below my chin, and heat spread throughout my body like wildfire, “I’m a fucking bastard for a reason. I’m not a good man. I can promise you that.” My lips parted to argue, but no sound passed as his finger straightened against them. “Even right now. The need to find the fucking spineless asshole who did this to you and rip his fingers off one at a time is unfuckingbelievable…but being in this cramped fucking filthy room with you, there’s something I want even more. To fuck you. Like I said, I’m an asshole.”

“Like I said. Me. Too,” I repeated the short, daring statement, ripping through the proverbial plastic I had allowed others to keep me under and admitted the truth. My insides crept with eagerness, and adrenaline flooded my brain. I lived for these high moments in life; those were the fleeting minutes the rest of the world melted away from me. It was only within those seconds that I truly met peace. Right now, I wanted to drown the noise of the universe with this man and didn’t give a damn about the dark consequences I knew might lay beneath.

His fingers wrapped around my throat, and a deep thick moan slipped out of my mouth as my pussy clenched with excitement. “I’ll ruin you.”

“You can’t ruin something that’s already rotten,” I muttered the cold truth without a second thought.

“Fuck,” he groaned in a thick husky voice, and his grip tightened around my neck with a growl. My greedy fingers went to work, undoing his belt as fast as I could before either of us changed our minds.

His biceps flexed as his arm snaked around my body, and he momentarily lifted me into the air, resting my back against the wall. The tank top I wore left my shoulders exposed, and the coolness of the wall sent a chill through my body, making me quiver. His tongue ran the length of my neckline, and his teeth caught the spot right behind my ear.

Once my hand wrapped around his length, I gasped and instantly felt so unbelievably cliché for doing it. The wicked smile and the way his body silently shook told me this was not the first time someone reacted in this manner. The man was blessed with the biggest dick I’d ever touched.

“Hence the name.” He chuckled when he met my gaze, and my teeth caught my bottom lip. “Second thoughts?”

“I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge,” I admitted, deciding at the moment I’d rather watch all the wicked pieces of my world burn than live for someone else.

“Fucking right. Neither am I.” He smiled, momentarily allowing my stiletto heels to touch the ground with a light click as his clutched each side of my short skirt and panties with his fists, ripping them down my legs. My hand gripped his shoulder for added balance as I stepped out of them.

His hands circled my ankles and moved so painstakingly slowly upward as his hot wet tongue followed from my ankle to the sweet spot at the top of my inner thigh. A desperate whimper snuck out of my lips as the tip of his tongue found my clit. I wiggled, and one of his broad hands flattened against my stomach to still me, his thumb pressed against my skin and lifted just enough to lift my mound to give him better access. The fingers of his opposite hand lightly stroked my nub as if he was a world-renowned theremin player, and my body heaved with intense pleasure. Right as my pussy clenched, he removed his fingers and sucked on my swollen area. His tongue vibrated against it next, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

My hips lifted one at a time off the wall, trying to fight his hold. “Don’t move,” he growled the command against my sensitive skin, and my muscles froze. I’d never considered myself a submissive when it came to fucking, but the possessiveness in his voice made me obedient to his demand without hesitation.

He stood from the floor where he had been kneeling, and the tip of his cock rested right against the place his face had just been. Sledgehammer raised his fingers to his mouth and sucked my flavor onto his tongue. “I was right. You taste like fucking sugar.”

My face flushed with embarrassment, something I had been certain I wasn’t capable of doing anymore. “That’s so unbelievably hot,” he mused, his hand cupped my face momentarily before dragging his fingers over my lips and fisting my light blonde hair.

“Put your foot on the bed.”

I did as he commanded, and as soon as my toes grazed the mattress, he lifted my body and flipped me onto my back on the sheet.

He toed his boots off one at a time, and his jeans and boxers dropped to the floor. Holy fuck, this man was beautiful in all of his tattooed glory. One of his hands fisted the sheet on either side of my body, and his fingertips of the opposite hand traced the curve of my hip while he climbed on top of me.

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