Page 112 of Dirty Salvation

His groan echoed around the scanty bathroom, water so hot now it almost peeled the skin off his bones through clothes that clung uncomfortably tight, however, he wasn't dialling the temp down, he didn't stop the up-down motion, the hard twist to make it hurt as he fixed her image firmly in his mind, how innocent she smiled, so clean andfresh, like plucking a brand-new rose and ruining it in his fist.

She was brand new and he was death.

Hey, Hawk.

Two words and his head had been about to explode.

Did she sense the effect she had on him? Was the greeting she'd passed him so nonchalantly in ways to torture him? He didn’t understand body language, didn’t catch subtle nuances. In any case, he'd scowled jutting up his chin at her as way of a reply, even that killing him, and strode off in the opposite direction as far away from her as he could physically get without leaving the club.I should have left. His dick demanded he took care of the build-up of desire before that too exploded.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He wanted to fuck her so vigorously, make her scream his name, plead for mercy, let everyone know she was letting an animal do her better than anyone else ever could.

If he retained her image in his head, that slight smile from one corner of her mouth, the way she was forever brushing back her long black bangs, he'd be done for.

This was where his depravity kicked in.

Hawk was on the dark side, walking a fine line when his body responded to just how he wanted to ruin the girl.

His groan reached down to his soul, pumping with more force, screwing his own hand, drawing out the flash of ecstasy as he smoothed the drop of pearled liquid over the head.

Her smile was getting him there.

The way she walked, rolling her hips, was forcing him to his climax in record time.

Hehatedher.

Wanted her.

Fucking craved her like a drug.

His veins twisted cruelly for a fix. Any fix.

Slapping a hand to the wall for leverage, he pumped and moved his hips with the motion, close.close. Almost.

Three little letters punctured the air, growled out of his chest, the noise torn and ragged and regretful, come spilling down over his hand as the pleasure went on and on and on, a river of filthy pleasure, her name on his lips. Spurts of pent-up need went on and on leaving his cock in what felt like endless rushes of a lewd wave.

He thought he could hate her.

That little bit of a thing had gotten under his asshole skin a long time ago when he hadn't been decent and wouldn't get the fuck out.

He didn't want to feel.

He didn't want to feelher.

Only he did.

In all the filthy ways he could think of to mess that little bit of a girl up.

On legs that were less than steady, Hawk stepped out of the shower cubicle, remembering to reach back in and switch off the spray before he flooded the place, steam billowed as he pulled open the door, whooshing out ahead of him before he could move back into his bedroom.

His jeans and shirt were soaked, clinging to his body, itchy, irritating material, he shucked them both leaving them in a sopping heap there on the floor to deal with later.

Not bothering to dry himself he pulled on a pair of dark denim jeans from the floor, not caring how long they'd laid there for, there was no clean pile, dirty pile, all of Hawk's clothes were well used clothes.

He could give a shit about his appearance. Who did he need to look good for anyway? Club bitches bent over for him regardless.