Man of the House: A Dark Bad Boy Romance(179)

We pulled through a short wooded area and I saw the spot up ahead. The building loomed up out of the clearing, old and rusty. It was probably once painted blue, but most of that paint had been worn away over time, and it looked more like a rust-covered steel beam than anything else.

I pulled off to the side and cut the engine.

“Why are we here?” Janine asked.

“Want to show you something.” I climbed off my bike and started walking.

She caught up with me. “Clutch,” she said, “you’re creeping me out.”

I stopped in front of the door to the building. The place was huge, at least three stories, and stretched far back. There were no signs anymore, and most of the walls were covered with at least some graffiti.

“I used to come here as a kid,” I said, kicking open the door.

It burst in and smacked against the inside wall. I stepped through and looked around.

Janine followed. “What is it?”

“Factory,” I said. “Used to be, at least. Not sure what they made.”

The main factory floor stretched on for maybe the length of a football field. There were once machines all over, but they were long gone. Clutter, trash, and debris stood in their place, trash from years of kids coming to hide away from their parents, junkies and homeless people looking for a place to crash, and who knew what else. I began to walk inside.

“Clutch, stop,” Janine said. “Stop. Why are we here?”

I turned back toward her and shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said. “I remembered it was nearby as we were heading home. Wanted to show you.”

She bit her lip. “I’m not sure we should be here.”

I laughed. “Nobody cares that we’re here.”

“No,” she said. “Maybe I do.”

I cocked my head. “You scared? Ain’t no ghosts here, princess.”

“I’m not scared of ghosts. I’m scared of you.”

I took a step toward her. “Nothing to be scared of.”

“You know that’s not true.”

I stared at her for a second without speaking. “When I was a kid,” I said finally, “I lived near here, for a little bit at least. I used to sneak out when my mom got too drunk or her new boyfriend got too violent. I’d come here, sit around, smash shit, pretend like my life wasn’t f*cked up to hell.”

“Did that help?” she asked.

“Sometimes,” I said. “And sometimes it was just running away from the truth. Never helps, running away.”

She nodded. “Yeah. It never works.”

“So this is it, some big f*cking part of my childhood.”

“When did you find the Demons?”

“Later,” I said. “I was just a little kid when I’d come here, back when my mom still tried to take care of me.”

We stood there and looked into the vast empty space in silence. I remembered smashing what was left of the glass windows, or at least some of them, with rocks. I remembered finding a stack of pornographic playing cards, the sort of score every kid dreamed of. I remembered pretending to be a soldier, running around with a stick that served as my rifle. It was just some dangerous-as-hell abandoned factory, but back then it was my f*cking refuge from the world.

“Come on,” Janine said finally. “We should get back.”

“Yeah,” I grunted. “Fine.”

She turned, and I gave the place one last look before following her back toward the bike. We picked our way over the uneven dirt road, and as we got close to the bike, she tripped on something, stumbling.

I grabbed her by the waist, pulling her against me.

She took a deep breath. “Thanks,” she said, practically a whisper.

Her body was pressed against mine, my hands on her hips, my lips against her neck. My cock was suddenly rock hard, and that need, that same need from the night before, started coursing through my veins.

I wasn’t holding back this time. I wasn’t f*cking playing games anymore. I kissed her neck and slipped my hand down the front of her jeans, finding her panties.

And they were soaking f*cking wet.

She moaned loudly, tipping her head back. “Clutch,” she gasped as I found her clit.

I growled, desire and lust rushing through my whole mind. I couldn’t think of anything but taking her the way I wanted it. No more holding back. It was just me and her, alone in the woods with everything unsaid still left between us.

I kissed her neck, finding her clit, and began stroking her, rubbing her. She put her hands up and touched my face, moving them up to run her fingers through my hair.

“I can’t hold back anymore,” I grunted. “I’m taking what I want.”

“What do you want?” she gasped.

“This *. This f*cking body. Everything about you.”

“What else?”

I pressed my fingers deep inside her and she gasped. I began to slide them deeply in and out, rubbing her clit and back in, working her * the way I knew she liked it.

“Your fire,” I whispered. “Your determination. Your loyalty. Your f*cking brains. Everything about you makes my cock so hard I can barely f*cking think.”

She turned around then, pulling my face to hers, and crushed my mouth with hers. I kissed her back, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close to me. We kissed that way for what felt like an hour, our bodies locked together, mouths moving, and my mind was empty. There was nothing there but Janine, her body, the wind through the trees.