Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(14)

My boot scraped something on the ground – a scrap of leather and metal. I realized it was a chain, like something for a dog.

Fuck me. What kinda kinky shit did that twisted little shit have her doing?

Her eyes locked onto my name patch. I was about to reach for her sweet, sexy face and take what my cock commanded me to when her plump lips opened, too plush and healthy for any Tennessee whore I'd ever known.

“Skin? Seriously?”

Fuck, maybe she was actually half as innocent as she looked. I smiled, reached up, and pounded my fist on my chest.

“That's what they all call me, babe. Don't wear it out before I f*ck you ragged.” My dick throbbed again, harder every time.

I hated fighting the unruly bastard. I seriously wanted to do everything I said, but I didn't come here to f*ck whores. I just had to make her believe it.

Her cheeks flushed. Turned honest-to-God red, like some prom girl on a date letting a man see her panties for the first time.

“You got a name? Or at least a sexy nickname from your jackass pimp?”

“Fresh.” She paused. “You know...like fresh meat.”

I threw my head back and laughed. It was cruel, absurd, and downright f*cking stupid. That couldn't be the name I'd call her by. Not a f*ckin' chance.

I reached for her face, cupped her chin, and squeezed. Leave it to Ricky to give the most beautiful woman I'd seen in this place the stupidest goddamned name on the planet.

“Seriously, what the f*ck's going on here?” I gestured to the limp leash with the chain on the floor. “You don't seem as whacked out as all the other girls. I know you get special treatment. The bastard was all nervous before I came in here, begged me not to see you alone. Why does he chain you up if he's so hell-bent on selling your mouth to strangers?”

My eyes fell to her lips. Fuck, they were moneymakers, if I ever saw any. Sweet, glossy and vibrant. Just the kinda lips I liked to imagine wrapped around every inch of me, pulling on my balls, stamping wet kisses up and down my body before I claimed the wet heat between her legs and shook her 'til she screamed.

“Because I'm Ricky's favorite. His prisoner.” The minute she said it, she spun around, refusing to face me.

I watched her little hand cover her mouth. Prisoner, huh?

Now, we were getting to some meat and bones. My arm went around her waist and I pulled her tight, slamming her into me, making me gasp 'til she met my eyes.

“Start talking. I knew he was sweeping something under the rug.”

“I can't,” she whispered, wiping the long, hot tear sliding down her cheek. “Please, just let me do my job. I shouldn't be telling you any of this. This is what you're here for, right?”

She jerked toward the nightstand, bending in my arms. A drawer popped open, revealing the biggest stash of condoms I'd ever seen.

Blood rushed to my dick. For a second, I seriously considered letting her gag on my cock if she didn't want to talk. Too bad I was born with a conscience, and all the violence and dirty deals in the MC hadn't beaten it outta me yet.

She turned gently, wearing a shaky smile, tearing at the foil with her teeth. My fingers darted out and I flicked the condom out of her grip. It hit the floor with a loud bounce.

Surprise shone in those perfect blue eyes. But it wasn't half of what I saw a second later, when I picked her up and moved her across the room, flattening her against the nearest wall. She gasped, so sharp and sudden I wanted to hear it a hundred more times, preferably naked and moaning.

“What do you want? I thought you'd rather have me on my knees,” she sputtered, shock crinkling her face.

“I want you to sing. I'm not here to f*ck. My brothers and I hit this dump to see what Ricky's been up to, and you're the first interesting thing I've found. Who are you? Really?”

She cracked. I loosened my grip as more hot tears fell down her face. I ran my fingers through her chestnut hair, noticeably cleaner and softer than the other girls I'd seen. They couldn't compare.

“Megan Willow Wilder,” she hissed, soft and harsh in my ear.

“The f*ck?” That was a fancy name for a place where the girls were supposed to have stupid names like Honey, Cherry Anne, or Fresh.

She shook her head, tightening her face like she couldn't believe I'd never heard the name.

“Spill it, babe,” I growled. “You're not supposed to be here, and I need to know why.”

“I was kidnapped. He drugged me, brought me here, chained me up. Ricky pimps me out to cover my upkeep, but he really wants to find me a buyer for bigger bucks. I'm a virgin.”

I had to catch another laugh tearing at my throat. No f*cking way.

Did she really expect me to believe this? A virgin in a trucker spa, sucking off guys and wearing a kink chain? For all I knew, she was Ricky's favorite, the pimp's personal slut that he used to unwind after a long day of work. Some of the bastards had them, after all.

“I'm Eric and Judy Wilder's daughter. Look them up, please.” She sounded desperate. Probably noticed the skepticism lining my smirk. “You have to believe me. We're rich, my dad owns three businesses all over the state, just do a search and you'll see. You have to get me out of here, Skin. Please. Get me out, before Ricky gets what he wants. I don't want to die a f*cking slave!”