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Slade’s hand inched to the back of her neck and he pulled her toward him.
“What if I am?” Slade whispered. “Huh? Think you’re ready to handle what that means? You think my tongue sliding in and out of your cunt is it? Or my hot cum sticking to your fine ass is it?”
Nelle shook her head. “Slade…”
“I’m not here to be your fucking friend,” Slade growled. “I’m not here to be your savior either.”
“But here we are. Are you going to toss me out there to be passed around? Is that what you want? You want Monte to stuff his cock into me?”
Slade grabbed at Nelle’s hair and pulled. He towered over her, curling his lip. Nelle could play games too. Dangerous games. She was good at it. She knew it.
Slade was quickly finding out. Hurting Nelle was not an option. At all. But to fuck her…hate fuckher… Strip her again and throw her down to the bed and get on top of her and just…
“Fuck,” Slade growled.
Nelle took a big chance and touched the even bigger bulge waiting between Slade’s legs. Through his jeans. Even after spilling all that cum on her back, he was thick and stiff once more.
“Is that it, sweetheart? You want me to fuck the truth out of you? Huh?”
Nelle’s teeth chattered. She wanted Slade to fuck everything out of her. The truth. Her pain. Grief.Everything.
Just as Nelle started to nod, ready to give her entire self to Slade (look, if he wanted to touch ‘back there’ and play, fine… and if he wanted to take his cock and fuck her ass… fine with that too) a thud hit Slade’s door.
“Brother! Open up! Emergency!”
“Fuck,” Slade growled. He yelled, “What kind of emergency?”
“Virus has been shot!”
Slade quickly tossed Nelle to his bed and darted for the bedroom door. He opened it to find Darrow standing there, covered in blood. Smears on his face. His leather cut bloody, white T-shirt under it soaked with blood. Hands…
“Where the fuck is he now?” Slade asked.
“Prayer!” Darrow yelled. “I carried him to the table. He’s bleeding everywhere!”
Slade pushed by Darrow and ran through the clubhouse. Maggie and the otherdeeceeswere scrambling, getting bottles of vodka and towels.The outlaws’ disinfectant right there for you.
Slade spotted Amos and Dolph standing near a pool table, shock on their faces. He tore open the doors to prayer and the scene looked like a fucking massacre. Virus on his back, missing one boot. His shirt ripped open. Blood everywhere. Priest looked over his shoulder as he held a hand down against Virus’s ribs.
“We need help!” Priest roared. “We need Dr. Hazel!”
“Call’s been made!” Linc yelled back.
“Just apply fucking pressure everywhere!” Monte added.
“How many times has he been fucking shot?” Slade asked.
Fitz pushed by him, holding a bottle of vodka and a white towel that would soon be permanently stained crimson.
“Three,” Fitz said. “Ribs, hand, and leg. The leg is the scary one. He can easily bleed out.”
“Who the fuck…”
“Want to conduct a full interview, Slade?” Cyrus growled as he rushed into the room. “Or do you want to fucking help?”
“I’ll help,” a voice said.
Every outlaw except Virus looked toward the open doors. When Slade saw Nelle standing there, he lost all train of thought for a moment.
