It Ain't Me, Babe (Hades Hangmen #1)(86)

“What?” I asked, suddenly feeling cold as dread filled my bones.

“Tank told me something last night,” she whispered low.

“What?”

Her eyes darted around us, checking we were not being observed. Satisfied, Beauty confided, “Tank said a group of the brothers went ’round Rider’s yesterday, you know, just to check on him.”

I reached out and grabbed her arm. “And?”

Beauty raised her eyebrow at my hold on her arm. I immediately let it go.

“I am sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She took a breath and leaned in close. “He weren’t there.”

“Where do they think he has gone?”

“Here’s the thing. Tank said it was like Rider’d vanished. His things were still there, his Chopper still parked out front. He even had a half-full glass of liquor by his chair. He’s disappeared, just like some damn ghost. They got the new prospect, Slam, watching his place twenty-four-seven… But there’s still nothing.”

An ominous feeling crept over me. Something was very, very wrong.

“Beauty!” We both jumped as Tank shouted Beauty’s name across the room. “We’re out. Let’s roll!”

Beauty gripped my hand and squeezed. “Don’t tell Styx I told you. I’ll be in a whole worlda hurt if you do. I’m not meant to know club business.”

“I promise.” I caught sight of Styx heading my way and faked a happy smile. With a wave, Beauty headed over to Tank and, as one, the brothers and their women left the compound.

We were all alone.

Styx towered over me and, clutching my face, pressed a long promising kiss on my lips. When he withdrew, I was breathless. “R-ready for a d-day i-in bed?” he asked confidently, accompanied by the playful arch of an eyebrow.

I threw my arms around his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist. “I have been waiting for this day all my life.”

I was rewarded with a wide smile.

Beautiful.

***



“I can’t get enough,” Styx said breathlessly as he laid kisses along my inner thigh. He had taken me three times. Three lots of hot, sweaty, and oh-so-intense sex.

I ran my fingers through his hair as he crawled up my body, hovering above me. “I love you,” I whispered.

He smiled and his dimples stood proud. “Babe. Fuckin’ love you.”

“Your stammer is better.”

His teeth dragged along his bottom lip ring. “It’s y-you. Ain’t near as m-many barriers in my way, no python choking me t-tight when I’m around you. It’s freedom.”

Placing my palms on his chest, I pushed him to the side, climbing on to straddle his waist. I drank in his naked form: muscles, tanned skin, colorful tattoos, pure masculine perfection. My finger began an exploration starting at his beautifully rugged face, down his rough cheeks, down his neck, over his raised pink swastika scar.

He flattened my hand to his chest. “It don’t b-bother me.”

I glanced up in surprise, then frowned, questioning, “Does it not? Those men carved up your chest.”

He shook his head. “It f-fuels me, babe. Makes me st-stronger.”

I bent down and pressed my lips to his. As I pulled back, I slipped off his waist and climbed off the bed. I caught a glimpse of him over my shoulder and he smirked in response.

Walking to the black leather chair in the corner of the room, I picked up Styx’s Fender and made my way back to the bed.

Styx rolled to his side, leaning on his hand. “You want me to teach you again?”

I shook my head and lowered my eyes, placing the Fender in my lap. “I want to play you something.” My eyes fluttered up to meet his.

Styx’s mouth dropped open, then closed again. “You w-wanna play… f-for me?”

“I have been practising. Beauty helped me get some music and well, while you have been out on runs, I have learned a song for you.” I knew I was blushing bright red. I could feel the fire under my skin.

“Babe…” Styx whispered. When I glanced at him once more, he urged me to play with a jerk of his chin.

Taking a deep breath, I positioned the guitar and began clumsily strumming the first chords. I watched as a proud smile spread across Styx’s handsome face. This spurred me on; it was time for me to sing.

“I hope you’re the end of my story. I hope you’re as far as it goes. I hope you’re the last words I ever utter. It’s never your time to go…” I sang each line exactly like I had practised. Styx’s face lit up, showing pride had given way to utter adoration. I meant every word of the song, the lyrics a benediction on my lips.

As I let the last chord of Pistol Annie’s “I Hope You’re the End of My Story” drift to a close, Styx ripped the Fender from my arms and tossed it to the floor.

“Styx!” I squealed as he trapped me below his huge body, his length hardening against my thigh. “Fuck, Mae…”

“Did you like it?” I asked as I squirmed against his chest, my arms wrapping around his broad back.

“Mmm… babe. Y-your voice… p-perfect.”

Styx lifted his hips. With one swift thrust, he plunged himself within my depths. A long groan cascaded from my mouth at the feeling, the pressure, the fire… the perfection. Linking his fingers around mine, Styx powered forward in long, forceful thrusts. His hazel eyes never left mine as he burrowed himself farther inside me, the tip of his length hitting my womb.