Page 40 of Beautifully Shattered (Secrets & Scars #3)

“ S top looking at me like that.” I scowl at my husband, catching the worry in his eyes.

“What do I have to do for you to agree to stay here and wait? I’ll do anything.”

I shake my head firmly. “We’re not having this conversation again, Cam. I’m coming with you, and so is Jols. That’s all there is to it.”

Twelve days ago, on the day I buried my little girl, Smitty told me our state would be going into another snap lockdown.

I’d thought he was batshit crazy at the time, even when Ringo backed him up, so when it was announced a few days ago that yes, Victoria was going to be locked down once again, I realised I shouldn’t underestimate the President of the Southern Sadists MC.

He might act like a nutcase sometimes, but he clearly has connections I never thought possible.

Right now, I don’t give a damn about what’s going on with the government or even the rest of the world. All I care about is vengeance, and saving Darla and Nessy. And right now, that’s exactly what we are about to do.

Ringo’s eyes darken and his jaw ticks as he stares at me. We’ve been stuck in this push and pull since the start of the week. Since I had a hand in killing my dad, even though it was his finger that pulled the trigger. And also, since the day I burned Karl Stone, my uncle, alive.

I am not myself. Or more like, I am something else entirely now, and maybe that’s just who Abbey will be moving forward.

“I could chain you to the bed.”

A rush of warmth shoots between my legs at the promise in his tone, and I want to call him out on using the one thing that seems to work to bend me to his will since everything that happened on Monday.

But, as usual, I don’t mention that I know exactly what he’s doing to manipulate me, because deep down, all I want is to give him what he wants.

My submission.

“You could try.” I shrug. “You might get hurt in the process, though.”

That has his lips kicking up in a dark smile.

“Come on, Angel. I’m just trying to keep you safe. Leave this battle to me and my club.”

My brows quirk at that.

“You told Smitty I was part of your club last week. ”

“You know what I mean, Angel,” he snaps, his patience thinning. “What about sexual favours? I’ll do anything you want if you agree to stay here.”

I snort, standing and slipping the gun he gifted me at the start of the week into my bag. His gaze follows the motion before grazing up my thighs and coming to rest on the holster belt Jols gave me, which is secured around my waist, holding a knife.

I’d completely forgotten all about the knife Dee gave me weeks ago. I’d found it in the bedside drawer, and have been practising using it over the last few days, wanting to be better prepared in case someone tries to take me again.

I’m not stupid. I know this raid on the Satan’s Rebels’ hideaway is going to be a thousand times more dangerous than stumbling across my dad or visiting Karl Stone, but I wasn’t lying when I told Ringo I was sick of waiting around.

This is my life now.

These are my people now.

I’ll fight for them too, and the Rebels are a shared threat to both me and the MC.

“Okay… sure.” I smirk at Ringo, knowing he absolutely won’t do anything to get me to stay behind. “I’ll stay here if you give JD a blowie until he cums down your throat.”

“The fuck!” Ringo lurches up from the barstool as JD howls in laughter.

“Fuck yeah, man. Suck my cock like a good boy!”

Jols and I start cackling, but my lips snap shut the moment I see Ringo storming my way with fury in his eyes.

Spinning, a squeak flies from me as I try to bolt, only making it a few steps before his arms weave around me, snatching me up off the ground as I flail.

“It’s about time I fucking punished you.” Ringo’s breath is hot against my ear as he carries me across the barn.

“No! Help! Jols! JD!” I plead.

“You’re on your own.” JD laughs. “Ain’t no fucking way I’m gonna try to stop him when he has a raging hard-on.”

“Traitor!” I screech, right as Ringo kicks open the bathroom door. “Stop! We have to go!” I yell, but my words are only met with his deep, dark chuckle.

“We’ll go when I’m fucking ready,” he snaps in my ear, the snip of the lock loud in the small space.

Shit. I’m in trouble.

The best kind, of course.

My heart pounds in anticipation, even though I should be shutting this shit down.

“You can’t fuck me yet,” I choke out, trying to pry his tight grip loose from around me, but he’s already got my cheek smushed up against the wall, his body pressing into mine from behind.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” he growls, somehow managing to wrangle both my wrists into one of his hands, pinning them above my head, while his other hand slides between me and the wall, starting to undo my black leather pants.

“Ringo…” I half-whimper, half-moan, annoyed at how desperate I am for his touch.

“You’ve been a brat all fucking week,” he snarls, nipping at my earlobe as he finally gets my pants open and starts shoving them down.

“I know what you learned about your family has been a lot, and you’re fucking frustrated we don’t have a lead on your sister yet.

” He wrestles my pants down to my ankles, the chill in the air hitting the places on me that feel like they are on fire.

“But you need to remember who fucking owns your smart mouth. ”

I’m about to protest when he steps back from me, my wrists still locked in his grip, and a second later, the biting sting that explodes across my backside has me half-screaming, half-choking as his hand slaps down hard with a loud clap.

It stings, and burns, and shit, humiliation floods through me at being handled like this, but something else happens, too.

I heat. From the inside out. Deep in my core, rushing straight to my clit.

I’m on fire.

Trying to hold back my whimper, I fail, the needy sound escaping anyway, and Ringo leans in close again, his lips pressed right up to my ear.

“Colour?”

“G-green.” I pant, not entirely understanding why I’m not red right now.

Being restrained like this, my top half still covered in my black clingy knit top, the holster belt snug around my waist, but my pants pulled down exposing my bare arse, should have me freaking out. I should be scared. Should have me feeling a thousand times more humiliated.

Yet all I feel is worshipped, and I know I’ll do just about anything this man asks of me when I’m like this.

“Good girl, Angel.”

His praise settles over me, a calmness sinking into my bones and making me feel a little drunk.

When the heat of his body shifts back again, his hand running over the globe of my arse like he’s trying to rub the pain away, my body responds, my back arching, my arse pushing out like it’s his for the taking .

And shit… there it is, the familiar sensation of my milk letting down, sending filthy images through my head of him on his knees, mouth latched to my nipple, drinking me dry.

Dammit, I’m about five seconds away from asking him to drain my breasts again for the second time today. I’d been opposed to it after Bobbi’s funeral, but after Monday’s little killing spree… well. It changed me.

Again.

His hand smooths over my other arsecheek, almost soothingly, and I know exactly what’s coming.

More.

“Even good girls need to be reminded of who’s boss.”

Normally I’d roll my eyes, but stuff that. He can be my boss. My king. My damn God, if he keeps this up. I’ll kiss his feet if he asks me to.

When his hand comes down hard on my other cheek, my moan is loud, not even a hint of a squeal, his rumbling growl practically making me melt.

I’m acutely aware of how wet I am between my legs. Most of it’s from the way he’s making me feel. Some of it’s from what I’m now calling my after-bleed, and I’m thankful it’s so much lighter this week.

“Fuck, Angel. I like seeing the outline of my hand on your arse,” he rasps, pressing into my back, his hand sliding around to my front, his fingers grazing over my sex. “Ahhh, fuck. You’re soaked.”

A needy whimper escapes me as he finds my clit, pressing into it with the pads of his fingers in a teasing way.

“You wanna come, Angel? ”

“Yes,” I rush out, trying to widen my stance, but my pants bunched around my ankles keep me locked in place.

“Such a pity that’s not gonna happen.”

I gasp as his fingers leave me, my wrists suddenly freed, and he spins me to face him, pinning me against the wall when I nearly trip over my own feet.

His shit-eating-grin is so smug I want to punch it off his face, and his low chuckle only makes it worse.

“You’re a prick.”

He shrugs. “And you’re a fucking brat lately, Angel. I’m just matching your mood.”

Rolling my eyes, I shove him back and try to bend so I can pull my pants up, but he stops me, his palm flat against my shoulder, pressing me into the tiles as he shakes his head.

“If you’re not going to follow through, then there’s no need for my pants to be down!” I snap, my anger flaring hot.

“One sec.” He smirks, ignoring my rage as he pulls out his phone and snaps a picture.

“What the hell!” I screech, trying to lunge for his phone, but he holds it up high, out of reach. “Delete that now!”

“No.”

I drop my hands to my sides, glaring at him and wishing I could set him on fire with my eyes.

“Delete it, Cameron .”

“No, Abbey . I want this for my spank bank.”

My face falls. “You want to get off to a picture of my humiliation?”

“This isn’t humiliation.” He turns the screen to me, and even though I don’t want to see myself like that, I can’t look away.

For a beat, I’m speechless .

Yeah, I’m standing with my pants down, my lady garden fully on display, but hell, with the rage on my face and the dark eye makeup that I’ve been wearing like a brand this week, and the way my blonde hair is a little tousled… I think… I look hot.

“Do you see it, Angel? How fucking hot you are?”

I nod, even though I don’t mean to.

“So, no humiliation, but your throbbing little pussy will have to wait to be worshipped until I’m done punishing you.”

And with that, he turns, unlocks the door, and walks out.

I growl out in protest, hearing his chuckle echoing back at me as he leaves me needy and aching for his touch.

I want to cry.

But fuck him. I can just get myself off. I don’t need him.

The sound of car doors opening makes me stiffen.

“He wouldn’t dare,” I snarl to myself, and when I hear the car doors slam shut, I realise, he absolutely would leave me behind.

I hurry, dragging my panties up and yanking my pants into place, and bolt out of the bathroom, hearing the Landy roar to life as I fumble to zip my fly while running.