Published on 11-24-15 Genres: Adult, Dark, Romance
Enter an unsettling world of volatile relationships, hot bikers, and even hotter sex that will have you on the edge of your seat and force you to keep a white-knuckled grip on your e-reader.
Killer. Criminal. Sociopath.
All of these words have been used to describe me, and for the longest time I believed that that’s all I was.
I’m the man you call in to clean up your mess, assuming your mess is a guy who needs a bullet to the head. I’m the man the MC calls when they want their dirty work done.
I’m the man who doesn’t feel.
Now my mess is a woman who won’t save herself. I’ll fight like hell to save her, but at what price to the club? And at what cost to me?
Warning: TANK contains graphic violence, profanity, drug use, and explicit sexual situations that may be a trigger and cause some readers emotional discomfort. Intended for an 18+ audience only. Not intended for pussies.
I finger-bang her rough and hard, ensuring I catch that little soft spot inside her that makes her come undone. She shudders, trembling head to toe, her legs quaking in that uncontrollable way that women sometimes do if you treat them real nice. Her hands claw at my hair, and I wince. I’m gonna have gouges in my skull soon if she doesn’t knock it off. Ivy throws her head back, her hips pumping in time with my thrusts.
“Oh God. I’m going to come.” She pants. I pull my fingers from her body and lick them clean, and then I ignore the obscenities she hurls at me as I pick up the rope that I dumped there earlier. Gently, I push her back against the chair. “What are you doing?”
“Making this fun,” I say.
She shakes her head, and replies in a breathless tone that has my cock jerkin’ in my pants. “I thought it already was?”
“Then I’m making it more fun,” I deadpan.
“Are you going to fuck me?” she whispers, and though I know she said she doesn’t want to, she looks hopeful.
“No,” I say, leaning down and kissing her mouth, because I can’t help myself. I want her to taste herself on my lips. I want her to understand how fuckin’ completely she possesses me. But that’s not why we’re here. I wrap the rope tightly around her body, crisscrossing it over her chest and around the back of the chair. She giggles as it slides over her breasts and slips into place beneath her big, beautiful tits.
“Tank I need to come,” she whispers.
“I know, baby, but you’re gonna have to wait a little longer,” I say, tying off the rope at the back of the chair and testing its strength. It’ll hold.
“I got club business, and you can’t be trusted not to leave.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Her tone is low and bursting with bitterness.
“Wish I was. And I wish to fuck I didn’t have to run out and leave you like this, because fuck me, I want inside you so bad right now.”
She wriggles against her restraints. Let her try. She ain’t gettin’ outta that hold. I’ve done it a thousand times, tied up fuckers this way. Tied ’em to chairs, or strung them from a hook in the ceiling and split their bellies open, until everything just falls out on the floor, a putrid mess of stinkin’ bowels, guts and blood. They shake as they watch on in horror and disbelief. Of course they don’t watch on for long. Nobody ever got out of one of my ropes, and they all had a lot more to lose than Ivy.