Page 9 of Blade (The Dark Angel’s MC #1)

Luna

Bile rises as Brock thrusts deep into my mouth, his member hitting the back of my throat and making me gag as I try and twist my head to dislodge him. He chuckles, his hand fisted in my hair tightening as his thrusts get quicker, his dick hitting the back of my throat hard going too deep.

There is nothing I can do to stop him, to prevent this, and I can feel my light dimming.

He caught me off guard.

Everyone had gone home, including Conner, leaving me with the clean-up.

Michelle had sauntered off with three of the brothers that came in halfway through her shift, and knowing this, Conner still decided to leave everything for me to deal with.

I knew how vulnerable I was. I just knew it, but the trash doesn’t take itself out, so, with my pepper spray in hand and my knife in my pocket, I brought the trash out after mopping.

He came out of nowhere. One minute, I’m shoving the trash in the garbage bin, and the next, my head is being smacked against the concrete wall, making me dizzy, and the pepper spray is dropped to the floor, and before I could get my bearings, his hands were suddenly forcing my mouth open.

He shoved an open-mouth gag inside, giving me unbearable pain.

I tried to fight him, throwing my hands behind me to scratch his hands, trying to remove the gag, but all that did was anger him more.

He smacked my head against the concrete for the second time, causing blackness to take hold, but blinking, I knew I couldn’t give up, and when my fight wasn’t enough, I tried to grab the knife from my pocket, ready to end him, but he grabbed my arms and pulled them back before he tied my hands together.

As soon as I was at his mercy, he spun me around and the gleam he had in his eyes, an evil one that showed a promising punishment was awaiting me that sent chills down my spine before he shoved me down on my knees knowing he could do anything he wanted to me.

There’re no cameras out here giving him the perfect opportunity and no one was around so he wasn’t in a rush like he usually was back at the club.

“Fuck yes, I love your mouth, treasure,” Brock moans, tightening his hold on my hair, and I swear I feel some being torn from my scalp.

Bile, yet again rises when he hits the back of my throat and I can’t stop it from coming out even if I wanted to.

I gag, and vomit fills my mouth, but instead of pulling back, he groans and comes into my mouth, forcing me to choke on my vomit and his seed, and my chest burns as I fight to try and dislodge him.

He presses deep in me, not caring that I can’t breathe, the fluid choking me as he moans, tightening his fist in my hair before pulling my head back, and I quickly lean forward, widening my mouth despite the pain just a little more causing the gag to fall out.

I vomit again, this time on his boots, my stomach tightening with each retch, and tears fall as the blinding pain in my jaw makes it difficult to keep it open to vomit.

“Fuck’s sake, Luna!” he growls as he grabs my hair and yanks my head back, making me cry out as I struggle to breathe.

Burning hurts my throat, my stomach aching, my jaw now going numb, but he doesn’t care as he sneers, “I have fucking warned you about throwing up!” he leans down as he brings his fist up.

I instantly flinch and squeeze my eyes shut, expecting impact, but his phone goes off, and he curses, letting go of my hair as he throws me onto the floor.

I land with a thump, my hands still tied behind my back, and I gasp at the pain shooting through my shoulder.

“Yeah?” Brock answers as I try to blink away the tears and slowly move my hands to loosen the rope.

“What do you mean our guns are fucking gone? How does over four hundred Glocks and handguns fucking disappear?” he snaps with outrage, and without a word to me, I watch with blurry eyes as he rushes over to the car that he uses without the club's knowledge.

Can’t get caught raping the president’s sister if he’s in an unmarked car, right?

Without looking back, Brock drives away from the diner, and my tears fall.

“I hate my life,” I choke as I try to remove the rope.

My wrists begin to sting, but I ignore the sensation and manage to get one hand free and bring my hands around, and I sob, gently rubbing over the marks. A rancid taste makes me want to vomit, but I try and swallow it despite the burning sensation and stumble to stand.

I need to go back indoors, I need to wash my mouth, preferably with bleach….

Taking deep breaths, I ignore my image in the mirror like I always do and quickly wash my mouth, trying not to sob.

It’s too much.

I can’t cope with this abuse any longer, the pain.

My head hurts from where he bashed me into the wall, my knees are aching, my wrists are stinging, and my throat and chest burns.

The urge to end it all strengthens day by day, and I know I have a blade in my pocket that I can use. However, I also know I won’t be going alone when I finally end it all. I can’t allow a man like that to go on living and terrorize someone else in my position, I just can’t.

Sniffling, I quickly wash my face, flinching as I gently dab the scrape on my forehead and scrub the rest of my face before letting my hair down out of its messy bun.

As the locks cascade down my back, the tension kind of eases in my head but a few strands fall to the floor, and my tears well up again.

I thought he ripped some from my head...

Shaking my head, I quickly but gently run my fingers through my hair without looking in the mirror and turn and leave the bathroom. I still have to clean up, even though I should just walk away.

Why do I care if the club’s diner is dirty by morning? Oh, I know, because it’ll be me cleaning it anyway, and not one brother would believe their precious VP would abuse and rape their club's princess.

Sighing, I walk back into the diner, ready to shut the machines off and clean them just so I don’t have to do it in the morning before I crawl home and fall apart, scrubbing my body red and raw to get Brock’s touch off me yet again, but I stop in my tracks at the figure standing before the counter.

I’m pretty sure I locked that front door, yet the man who looks just as intimidating as he did earlier stands before me.

My heart races, and slowly, despite having his eyes sharpened on me, I pull the pepper spray out of my pocket—the one I wished I had sprayed in Brock’s face when I had the chance—and squeeze it tight in my hand.

The man smirks and says, “A knife would be better than that shit.”

My jaw locks. He’s playing with me, but I guess I wouldn’t expect anything different from a president.

Flaring my nostrils, I put my hand back in my pocket and pull out the Stanley knife I’ve started walking around with, one I’m yet to use even though I really want to.

If my hands weren’t tied behind my back, I would have used it today.

I have a vision of stabbing it into Brock’s neck. The more he assaults me, the more I want to go through with it. I just need the courage because I know that once I kill him, I’ll be ending myself as well.

I can’t live with a kill on my conscience, even by a man like him, and I also can’t live knowing he’s used my body to the point that no one would want to touch me, but I wouldn’t want them either.

The man before me grins and mumbles, “You’re definitely not a scared little lamb, are you, princess?”

I narrow my eyes at him and ignore his words and how he looks at me. I demand, “What are you doing here, and how did you even get in?”

His intense gaze on me makes my skin tingle, but not in a bad way, and honestly, it’s not a feeling I want.

It’s a feeling I never wish to have, and I know he isn’t here for a cup of coffee and a chit chat.

He and his brothers have never come into this diner before, and Axe mentioned there’s trouble afoot with the Dark Angels, so he’s here for one of two things.

To burn the place down or me if he knows who I am, something most clubs are not aware of because well, I hate the club and its meaning ever since Axe allowed Brock to become his VP despite what I told him when I was thirteen, not believing me.

The clubs represent family and loyalty, and my blood brother has never shown me that like he has Brock.

He’s completely forgotten what I accused his VP of. He’s never looked at me and thought, ‘Oh, she doesn’t go near Brock. Why is that? Is what she said all those years ago true?’

Yet he wonders why we’re no longer close… Ha.

“What happened to your head?” the man questions, ignoring my own. I narrow my eyes at him and lie, “I tripped while I was taking the trash out and banged it against the wall.”

He winces and mumbles, “Ouch,” not seeing the lie that it is, and I shrug.

“It wasn’t the first time. I’m clumsy,” I continue to lie, then demand again, “Now, I’ll only ask you this one more time before I stab this knife into your gut. What are you doing here?”

He grins, but it’s not one of those soft grins. No, this one is full of promise and mayhem, and I can feel my heart beginning to pound so hard in my chest that I can hear it in my ears but what’s shocking is that I’m not scared.

He takes a step forward, and I flinch, but I don’t move, even when he rounds the counter.

Instead, I try to stand my ground. I already have one man making my life not worth living, so I won’t add another one, even if he is the hottest man I’ve ever seen, which is saying a lot considering I used to live with a load of bikers.

I can feel my hands shake when he walks right up to where I’m holding the knife out, the tip touching his stomach, making my eyes widen.

Oh god, I’m going to have to stab him, and then I’ll end up starting a war between the clubs.

Oh crap, crap, crap.

“Somehow, I doubt you’ll stab me,” he says cockily, tilting his head, “You’re not only sweating at the prospect of it, but your hand is also shaking like a leaf.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and mutter, “You’d be surprised what someone would do under pressure.”

He grins again and returns, “Oh, I know exactly what someone is capable of when under pressure, but you? I think you’d buckle.”

I narrow my eyes at his again, hating that he thinks I’m some weakling.

I’ve spent the past seven years being raped, having no one by my side, yet I’m still here standing. I may want to end things, but in my eyes, ending things makes me braver.

I press harder with the knife without thinking, but all he does is chuckle before suddenly, his hand is grabbing the knife while his other grabs my wrist so quick I don’t have time to react. He pulls me towards him but twists me before my back hits his front, making me gasp in shock.

The hard muscle of his chest presses against my back as he brings the knife around and puts it to my throat, but I don’t tense.

A part of me, a small part, is scared, but the larger part hopes he digs the knife in.

“Did you know my road name is Blade, princess?” he whispers in my ear as he wraps his free arm around my waist, holding me against him.

I swallow hard because, no, I did not know that, but what I do know is that brothers get their road names because of their skills or whatever stupid thing they’ve done warranted to get their president’s attention.

Axe had accidentally thrown an axe, aiming for the tree but hit dad’s Harley, which I have to admit was hilarious though somehow, I don’t think this man got the name Blade for shits and giggles.

“All I’d have to do is put a little pressure, and blood will spill,” he continues, his hot breath sending a shiver through me and my clit pulses, shocking me.

I-I…. I’m aroused…. What the hell?

I try to control my breathing, hoping he goes through with it, ignoring my body's reaction to him, but instead, he disappoints me when he flips the knife around and then places it back in my apron before twisting me around, making me gasp in shock.

Our eyes lock, and instantly, I’m entranced. My skin heats up like it’s on fire with his touch on my arms.

His eyes race between mine before he mumbles, “That would be a waste though, wouldn’t it?” then leans down and gently places a small kiss at the corner of my mouth.

I suck in a breath at the electricity running through me, the sparks from his lips alone making my body hum, but as he pulls back, smirking, I instantly miss his heat.

Crap, no, bad body.

Blade slowly walks backward and rounds the counter. Just as he reaches the front door, he turns to me and says, “Next time, don’t leave a spare key above the door," my mouth opens in shock, and he grins, “I’ll be seeing you, princess,” then leaves, locking the door behind him.

I watch as he mounts his dark red Harley before looking through the windows once more. Our eyes lock, and a promise shining in his eyes makes my stomach tighten. He smirks and revs his bike before he spins away.

Swallowing hard, I lean against the counter, my body suddenly weak.

I’ve never reacted like that before. I never wanted someone to hold me longer than normal. His touch alone set my heart racing, and his touch alone felt like electric volts shooting through me, wanting more.

The encounter with Brock comes back in flashes, and complete shock takes over as I mutter, “He took away the filth, he made me forget…”

Not once did I think of what happened not more than ten minutes ago, and though the thought of dying still arose, I didn’t feel the pain that was slowly coming back.

I forgot about the burning in my chest, and Blade became my whole focus, and suddenly, I wanted him, but more importantly, I wanted him to want me.

I blink as tears fill my eyes.

I know what I felt when he touched me, I didn’t feel dirty or sick, instead I felt whole. I wanted him to wrap his arms around me and remove the bad memories, but that was just a silly pipe dream.

I am damaged goods, and he’s the president of the Dark Angels.

I’m pretty sure our clubs are on the verge of war, meaning, even if I wanted to try and have a life with someone, if I could overlook the horror of my life, he’s off limits anyhow.

Sighing, I turn and look at the mess that still needs cleaning behind the counter and eye it for a few minutes before mumbling, “Screw it,” and I storm to the back where the lockers are.

I’ll just do it tomorrow, or heck, I may even call in sick because today has taken it out of me. Honestly, I have a lot of coursework to do, and my brother can’t expect me to work seven days a week.

I need space. My head is all muddled up, and I need to forget about this encounter, figure out how to dodge the next one with Brock, or learn how to get a backbone so I can finally get rid of his evil before ridding myself of this trauma.

Besides, it’s not like Blade’s going to become my knight in shining leather.