It Ain't Me, Babe (Hades Hangmen #1)(69)

Folding my arms on my bent knees, I lowered my head and let the tears fall. How had things become so bad so quickly with Rider? He is my best friend!

However, as I thought back over the last few weeks, my chest constricted. The signs of him growing to like me were there: the touches, the secret smiles, increasingly intimate conversations—at least on his side. How could I have been so blind? I had been too wrapped up in Styx to notice. Who was I kidding? I had been wrapped up in Styx since the age of eight.

I have only ever had eyes for Styx.

He was my world, my everything. My almost losing him tonight had served only to double my desire for the silent man.

He needs me.

And I need him.

I want the opportunity to get to know him. I want our journey to really begin.

“Mae?” Blinking in shock, I lifted my head to see Ky at the doorway of Styx’s apartment, looking down at me, brow furrowed. “You okay?”

Wiping my eyes, I climbed to my feet. “Yes.”

“Where’s Rider?” he asked, craning his head to look down the hallway.

“He left.”

Ky stared at me, a knowing glint in his eyes. I expected him to say something, but he just opened the door, jerking his chin for me to go inside.

The bed was empty.

“Where is he?” I asked, hearing the door close.

“In the washroom. He’s rinsed himself in the shower, but the stubborn f*cker can barely stand. Won’t take my help. He’s running a bath now. Safer than falling on his face, I suppose.”

I nodded and headed that way, but Ky’s hand on my arm stopped me. “He’s got you, yeah? For real? You’re his?”

He wanted confirmation I would not hurt his friend, his best friend.

Pressing my hand on the top of his, I nodded. “I have always been his. I will never see anyone else. I will always be his and his alone.”

Sighing in relief, Ky headed for the door. “You’re good for him. I see that now.” He did not turn round as he spoke. Then all of a sudden, Styx and I were alone in his apartment, no sound but the running water from the faucet in the bathroom.



Bracing myself at the door to the bathroom, I pressed down on the handle and pushed my way through. I immediately froze. Styx stood in the center of the room, his broad muscled back to me… naked. His head was bowed, his body sagging with exhaustion, his heavily tattooed skin raked with long gashes.

Heat pooled between my legs as I absorbed every inch of his bare body and I began to pant. The sight of this man’s body revealed was something for which I could not prepare. Every inch of his body featured hard, protruding muscles. From his lower back to his lower calves Styx looked like he had been sculpted by an artist—to perfection, pure… male… perfection.

The urge to reach out and stroke his back—to feel he was real—grew. As my eyes scanned lower, I almost whimpered out loud in lustful need. His behind comprised of two rock-hard tanned globes which swept into thick thighs, both dusted with a light covering of dark hair.

My stomach clenched over and over as I imagined kneeling before him, kissing every tattoo, every scar… taking him in my mouth. I had never before performed this act, the act of oral pleasure, but I had observed women here at the clubhouse performing it on the brothers. At the time, I confess it horrified me. Right now, staring at Styx’s almost impossible perfection, I wanted nothing more than to taste him on my tongue. For a moment I was ashamed of my sinful thoughts, but I pushed them from my mind. Guilt should play no part in the act of love.

As I moved forward, I winced with guilt. I was wet. Wet between my thighs… within my sex. That same burning feeling I had felt before with Styx began stirring in my body. When I reached his back, the warmth from his skin caused me to roll my eyes back and inhale his manly scent: leather, soap, and him.

Lifting my hand, I placed my finger on the nape of his neck and softly guided it down his back. I watched as thousands of goose bumps rippled over his skin and with an audible hiss, his head lifted. He looked at me over his shoulder.

The tightness that had been surrounding his hazel eyes faded and was replaced by something primal. I felt the soft grasp of his fingers wrap around my wrist and with a sharp tug, Styx guided me round his body. My hand still placed on his spine dragged around his ribs and as I drifted along his waist, I paused to stroke his solidly-packed stomach. Styx’s thick bulging fully tattooed arms tensed and flexed in sympathy with my attentions.

Catching Styx swallowing hard, my eyes drifted to meet his. I slinked forward to press a kiss on the evil mark now carved into his skin and his head tipped back and his hand fisted my braid. He yanked me to his glistening skin.

With a low groan, Styx pushed me back, lifting his hands tentatively to free the leather jacket from my shoulders.

He rolled his lips together, only for his tongue to lick along his lip ring. His face was clear of blood now, only scratches and a long slash on his cheek remained.

The straps of my tank were next and he never once took his eyes off me as he pushed down the thin fabric of my vest. My nipples hardened as the cool air caressed my bare skin.

Flicking his gaze down, Styx’s nostrils flared as his rough calloused hands palmed my breasts. A pang of pleasure shot straight between my legs. “Styx!” I whispered as my hands planted on his wide chest.

With a quick yank, my vest shredded and fell to the floor. Before I knew it, my leathers were warming my ankles. My tiny black panties were the only barrier separating us from being fully exposed to one another.