Page 52 of Demon

“You’re one dumb fuck sometimes, D.”

Demon whirled on Zion who’d just slung Mud over his shoulder. She liked how Mud couldn’t stop groaning from the pain of being picked up. He’d probably had some broken ribs. She hoped he would be still alive when she would get back to the clubhouse.

“I need him alive,” she said to Zion, ignoring Demon.

“I know, Whirlwind. I know…” Zion stopped before her and handed her his keys.

“Only if you’re up for it, sweetheart. Otherwise, leave it here and I’ll have Squirrel get it back for me.”

She put the keys to his ride in her back pocket before he gave her one final nod and left them alone in the cabin that reeked of her vomit mixed with Man Bun’s blood.

She’d forgotten all about him lying dead at her feet. She glanced down and inspected her handiwork. The blood smears on the floor could have been easily hers if she hadn’t fought back, if she hadn’t been lucky enough that Mud took her outside to wash the vomit from her face and body…

She startled when Demon’s hand engulfed her upper arm. “You okay?”

She snorted. “Sure. I’m fine.”

“You don’t need to put on a front with me, Cat.”

Cat tilted her head, fed up with this big bad biker telling her what to do. She’d killed two of her attackers; almost blinded a third, and she’d been well on her way in blindsiding the last two so she could kill them all.

Why was it that he saw right through her? She hated how the power between them shifted so easily into his favor. She would forever be hung up on this larger-than-life man.

Getting almost raped and killed made her careless about Demon’s good intentions. She needed to feel. To feel any emotion just so she would know that she was still alive. That she’d survived.

“I’m okay. They didn’t rape me. You want to help me?” she asked him before she grabbed the hem of her black shirt.

“Cat…”

She whipped her wet shirt over her head, throwing it on the double bed behind her. Standing before Demon in her black bra, damp leather pants and boots, she’d never felt so vulnerable. Not even when she’d been fighting for her life in this exact cabin against four bikers.

“We can’t—”

“I don’t give fuck.” She undid her pants and rolled the wet leather over her hips, finding it hard to do so, but she continued on even if she must be making a fool out of herself.

“How did you get so wet?” he asked as he stepped closer, twirling a damp strand of her black hair between his fingers.

“I kicked Mud outside when he tried to wash me under the outdoor shower after I threw up on the floor. I ran as fast as I could, but they almost caught up with me just when I got to the river. I hid from them between the river reed.”

“Fuck…” his raspy, dark voice cracked.

Retelling a part of what happened made her cold from the inside out. She slung her arms around her waist. “I-I’m cold…”

Demon let go of her hair before walking up to the fireplace. He put an extra log into the fire, watching the flames rise again.

She sat down on the bed and untied her boots. She kicked them off as she waited for Demon to make a move. He held his back to her, though.

It angered her how easily he could dismiss her. Just like he’d done hundreds of times before. Cat needed to take back control. She needed to feel on top of the world instead of a biker punching bag.

She scooted backwards, her head resting on the pillow. With both knees pulled up, she slid her hand over her flat stomach down to her aching pussy. She’d wanted Demon for seven long years.

She didn’t give a fuck anymore about anything.

Cat pulled her lacy string to the side with her index finger before she dipped it inside of her. She arched her back and gasped at the intrusion.

Fingering herself beside Man Bun’s dead body on the wooden floor next to the bed made her crazy with lust. She’d always known everyone was right about her.

She was a psycho.

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