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CHAPTER EIGHT

DAKOTA

Oh.

My.

God.

I have never felt anything like this in my entire life, and the moment we both come, I want to do it all over again. He’s still inside of me, his length still twitching as we both catch our breaths and yet, I want him again. I want to do this all over again.

When Bullet releases me and takes a step backward, the loss of him feels like a living, breathing thing. I want him back inside—now. I stare at him, but he dips his chin, and his eyes scan the floor as he begins picking up items of clothing and then puts them on.

I watch as he collects my clothes and shoves them against my stomach. With no other choice but to wrap my arms around them, I keep watching him in silence as he reaches for the leather vest hanging from the bedroom doorknob and slides that on his body.

He stands in front of me, completely dressed, and even though he just made my entire body sing, I’ve never felt more alone than in this moment. The dichotomy slams into me and tightens my stomach. I can almost feel the regret pouring off him. I’ve never felt more disgusting in my whole life.

I just want to pull my clothes on to cover myself and cry. But I won’t dare show that kind of vulnerability in front of this man. Not here, not now, and certainly not ever. So, I don’t. Jerking my chin slightly in the air, I look down my nose at him, thankful that the wall is holding my body up for me.

Bullet clears his throat, and I can feel his gaze slide up my naked body to my face. I don’t look at him, though. I look past him, just over his shoulder, and silently pray that he gets the fuck out of here and fast.

“You need to pack your shit and get the fuck out of town, Dakota. This is not for you.”

I don’t understand how this man just rocked my whole world and did not act like it sucked for him, either, just to be a complete asshole to me now. And that’s when I feel something slide down the inside of my leg.

He didn’t use a condom.

My body jerks and my gaze flicks to his. “You didn’t use protection,” I whisper.

His eyes widen, but otherwise, he doesn’t show me much of an expression. He arches a brow but doesn’t speak. I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t care or what, but what I do know is that his cum is sliding down my legs, and I am not on birth control, which, if he’s got some disease, is the least of my issues.

“Bullet,” I hiss. “You asshole. You exposed me to what?” I ask.

His shoulder jerks. “Excuse me?” he asks.

“You heard me,” I grind out.

He takes a menacing step forward, his lips pressed together tightly, his brows knit together in what I can only assume is anger. Although, he seems to look at me this way always. I hadn’t been sure he even had any other expression until he was inside of me. Only then did his face soften.

“You think I got a dirty dick, bitch?” he asks. “You come here from some sex cult where everyone is fucking everyone else, probably animals, too, or some shit, and you question me?”

My heart slams against my chest.

How could I have ever allowed this man to touch me? This man knows nothing about me and throws something that I told him about myself in my face. And wrongly, too. As much as I want to hate him for his hurtful words, I hate myself more for allowing him even to be this close to me. Because I clearly do not know him, and I allowed him inside of me.

I take a deep breath, hold it for a moment, then let it out slowly. “I’m not going to stand here and talk to you about this. I’ll just make an appointment at a clinic and pray to God you haven’t given me anything. You can leave now.”

His jaw sets hard, clenching, and I wonder why he’s so offended. He’s already made some kind of bullshit decision about me, but I’m not going to stand here and defend myself to him. I know who I am. I know that I’ve only been with one other person, but if he’s got some kind of perceived notion, he can swim in that forever. With the way he’s spoken to me, it’s clear that he already has decided who and what I am.

“I expect you to be out of town by morning,” he growls before he spins around on his heels and walks out of the house, slamming the door behind him when he does.

He can expect whatever the fuck he wants, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be doing any of it. I pinch my eyes closed as anger consumes me and my knees give out from beneath my body.

I’m consumed by red-hot anger and pain swirling around inside of me. When I open my eyes after my ass has hit the carpet, I expect the entire room to be bathed in red. But it looks exactly the same as it did when I first walked in here.

“What an asshole,” I whisper to myself.

What a complete asshole.

Tears stream down my face, and I wonder how I could have let him touch me that way. Why did I just let him slide inside of me and fuck me against the wall? Reaching for my phone, which is still tucked into the back of my jeans, I call the only person I know and tell her what happened. Then I ask her how and why I let that happen.

“Because you’re a normal person who has feelings. Our bodies don’t always know what’s wrong and right, Dakota. Sometimes, animal instincts take over, and we do really stupid shit that either we wished we hadn’t or know better than to do.”

“Well, that’s not helpful,” I mutter.

She laughs softly. “You’re human, Dakota. Welcome to the real world. It can be really ugly, but it can also be really amazing.”

I grunt, closing my eyes again as my head falls backward and bounces off the wall. “I’m sitting here alone and naked in my dad’s hallway.”

Briana snorts. “Put some clothes on and snoop through your dad’s things for the answers that you went there for. Don’t let a good dick with a bad attitude derail your journey.”

She’s right. And she described Bullet perfectly. Good dick with a bad attitude. That is who he is. And she is absolutely correct. This moment was about to derail my whole purpose for being here. And that purpose has nothing to do with Bullet and everything to do with me, my past, and my future.

I need to forget that man ever existed, after I get tested, of course.

BULLET

I walk into the clubhouse and I make my way straight toward the office, slamming the door behind me. Instead of moving to the chair behind my desk, I sink down on the cushion of the sofa and bury my face in my hands.

What the actual fuck is wrong with me?

I shouldn’t have spoken to Dakota that way. I have no idea what her past was really like, but it doesn’t matter because I guarantee I’ve fucked a hell of a lot more bitches than she has men. And regardless of that fact, it doesn’t matter. She could have been with a thousand men before me. I know what her body felt like—it felt like it was made just for me.

Anger consumes me, not just anger at myself or her, but anger at Shade. How the fuck could he have gone and left me here to deal with this shit? How could he have never told me about Dakota? Why didn’t Shocker ever say anything?

Why.

Why.

Fucking why ?

I’m also really fucking pissed that I want her so goddamn badly. I don’t just want to fuck her again. I want to keep her—forever. Once I realize that one time wasn’t enough, my body starts thrumming with anxious energy.

Because once she gets whatever it is she wants from Shade’s shit, she’s going to go back to her life… taking her magic cunt with her.

The office door opens, and I watch Piggy walk through. He’s wearing a frown that I don’t fucking understand, then he stops in front of me and leans his ass against the front of my desk, and I smirk at the sight of him in his uniform.

He doesn’t come to the clubhouse very often if ever, dressed in full pig cop regalia, but here he is, badge and all.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of Thunder Rock’s finest?” I ask.

Piggy snorts, shaking his head a few times before he flicks his gaze to meet mine. He doesn’t speak immediately, but when he does, I know this isn’t anything to fuck around with. This shit is serious, and it’s about the little bitch I just left freshly fucked and pissed off.

“That cult Willamette Haven, it’s fucked up.”

“Explain that shit.”

He clears his throat and continues, almost as if he’s trying to buy himself a bit more time, and to be fair, once he speaks, I can understand why.

“The leader wasn’t just like any random fucking cult leader. He was the leader of a sex trafficking ring. I don’t know if Dakota was one of them, but he was sending young girls out to make them money.”

I bite the corner of my bottom lip, then release it before I speak. “So he was running a stable of women.”

“No,” Piggy grunts. “He was running a stable of girls. Not women. I mean, maybe eventually women, but every single woman who was one of his whores started out as a girl.”

“Where did he get them?” I demand.

“You mean, where is he getting them?” he asks.

Jumping to my feet, I clench my hands into fists at my sides. I want to punch him square in the jaw, but I know he’s just the fucking messenger. So instead of beating the shit out of the messenger, I wait for him to finish.

“Most recruiting them to his commune, others he’s buying off the black market. Likely brought in from another country or something. The cops there know about it, have tried to pin shit on him and catch him in the act, but so far, he’s evaded every attempt.”

“You’re telling me this asshole is still doing this shit to kids?”

“That’s what I’m telling you.”

Scrubbing my palm down my face, I think about Dakota. I didn’t get the vibe that she was abused in any way, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t. It’s not like I know much about that shit. I’m a pump-and-dump, come-and-dash kind of guy. I’ve never had a meaningful, deep relationship with a woman before, not even my own mother.

“What do we do about that, Piggy?” I ask.

His lips twitch into a smirk. Then he frowns before he continues. “I don’t think your girl was in that mess, and I say that because of her mother. She was the leader’s woman.”

I shake my head, and my brows snap together when I remember what she said at lunch. At night, the people drank, smoked, and had sex, but she didn’t stick around for that shit. She never said she was the cult princess. Wouldn’t that be some shit, from cult princess to club princess? What are the actual fucking odds?

“I guess I’ll have to talk to Dakota again, but beyond that, we gonna pretend we didn’t find out about this shit, or we gonna do something about it?” I demand.

Piggy’s eyes widen, and his lips curve up into a smile. It’s not often that we go full rogue on anything. We, as a club, tend to stick to club shit because once you start wading into waters that aren’t any of your goddamn business, you bring unnecessary bullshit to your own front door.

Vicious Reapers isn’t a vigilante club. We are, without a doubt, doing a bunch of illegal shit that we should not be doing. We’ve been known to hurt and even kill people, but there is something about hearing about someone causing pain to kids that I’m not sure I could even sleep at night knowing about and go on with my life day to day.

I am pretty sure the rest of the club would feel the same way, even if it’s happening on a completely other coast.

“I think we need to talk to Dakota.”

He’s right. We probably do, but I also think I’m the last person she wants to see right now. Though I also don’t think I give much of a fuck. Mainly because I want to fuck her again and again… maybe even again.