The bar’s haze clings to my skin as I watch Holden across the room, all coiled danger and untouchable allure. His leather jacket hugs his frame, the Iron Reapers MC patch a warning stitched over his heart—a heart I’m fool enough to chase. He’s morally gray, a storm wrapped in smirking confidence, and I’m caught in his pull. I’ve seen girls try to tame him, only to stumble out of his orbit, broken and discarded. I swear I’ll be different.
We met four months back at a rundown diner where I waitressed. He’d slid into a booth, all sharp cheekbones and smoldering gray eyes, ordering coffee with a voice like sin. I’d spilled it, clumsy under his gaze, and he’d laughed—low, rough, promising trouble. I’ve been hooked since, haunting this bar every Friday, praying he’d see me. Tonight, he does.
“Scarlet,” he calls, voice cutting through the din like a blade. I cross the room, pulse hammering, my boots loud on the scarred floor. Austin and Theo flank him, his right-hand men, their stares predatory. Austin’s blond hair falls into icy blue eyes, and Theo’s dark skin gleams under the neon, his grin wicked. They’re extensions of Holden’s will, and everyone knows Holden shares his girls with them. Always.
“You been starin’, darlin’,” Holden says, leaning back, thighs spread. “Think you’re special?”
My breath hitches. “I can be.”
His laugh is dark, shared with Austin and Theo. “Prove it.”
I know what he’s asking. My mind screams caution, but my body craves his approval, desperate to carve a place in his world. “Okay,” I whisper.
Holden’s smirk is a razor’s edge. “Back room. Now.”
---
The back room reeks of whiskey and leather, a single bulb swaying overhead, casting jagged shadows. A battered pool table dominates the space, its green felt worn but commanding. Holden’s hands are on me the second the door shuts, yanking me against him. His chest is hard, his scent—motor oil and smoke—dizzying. Austin bolts the door, and Theo’s already peeling off his jacket, revealing taut muscle that makes my stomach flip.
“You sure, Scarlet?” Holden murmurs, lips brushing my ear, his voice a low growl. “This ain’t a game for the faint.”
“I want this,” I say, voice steadier than I feel. His mouth claims mine, rough and searing, tasting of bourbon and dominance. I’m drowning in him, but then Austin’s hands are on me, tugging my shirt up, exposing my skin to the cool air. My bra falls away under Theo’s deft fingers, and I gasp, caught in their orbit.
Holden steps back, eyes blazing as he watches Austin’s hands roam my waist, Theo’s lips grazing my collarbone. “Strip her,” Holden orders, voice like gravel. My jeans hit the floor, and I’m bare before them, vulnerable, but Holden’s stare—hungry, approving—fuels me. I want to be his exception.
Austin lifts me onto the pool table, the felt rough against my thighs. Holden’s behind me in a heartbeat, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me back until I’m bent over, ass up, heart pounding. “Spread for me,” he growls, and I obey, trembling as his fingers tease, confirming I’m ready. I hear his zipper, and anticipation coils tight.
Austin and Theo are in front of me, shirts gone, jeans straining. Holden leans over me, his chest pressed to my back, voice hot against my ear. “Use your hands, Scarlet. Show ‘em you’re mine to share.”
My breath catches, but I reach out, fingers trembling as I unzip Austin first. His cock springs free, thick and heavy, and I wrap my hand around it, stroking slow, earning a guttural groan. Theo’s next, his length warm and pulsing under my touch, my other hand working him in rhythm. Their eyes burn into me, pleasure twisting their features, but it’s Holden’s approval I crave.
He doesn’t make me wait. His hands grip my hips bruisingly, and he thrusts into me from behind, deep and relentless. I cry out, the stretch intense, pleasure-pain sparking through me. The pool table creaks under us, my body rocking with each brutal drive. Holden’s pace is punishing, claiming, his breath ragged as he fills me completely.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growls, one hand sliding up my spine, fisting my hair. He pulls my head back, forcing me to meet Austin’s gaze as I stroke him faster, my fingers slick with his arousal. Theo’s hand cups my jaw, guiding my face toward him, his thumb brushing my lips. “Good girl,” he murmurs, voice thick, as my hand works him, matching Holden’s rhythm.
The air is heavy with moans, the slap of skin, the creak of the table. Austin’s hips buck into my grip, his groans jagged, while Theo’s control frays, his cock twitching under my touch. Holden’s thrusts deepen, hitting a spot that makes me see stars, my body tightening, pleasure coiling. I’m theirs—his—lost in the frenzy, desperate to please.
But then Holden’s voice cuts through, sharp and commanding. “Get lost.”
Austin and Theo freeze, confusion flickering. Holden’s hand tightens in my hair, his thrusts slowing but not stopping. “You heard me,” he snaps. “Out.”
They hesitate, but his glare brooks no argument. Austin tucks himself away, muttering, and Theo follows, shooting me a lingering look before they slip out, the door clicking shut. I’m alone with Holden, still bent over the table, his cock buried deep.
“Just you and me now,” he murmurs, voice softer but no less intense. He pulls out, spinning me to face him, lifting me onto the table’s edge. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, and he kisses me—slower, deeper, like he’s tasting me for the first time. His hands roam, possessive, tracing my curves, thumbs brushing my nipples until I whimper.
He pushes back into me, slower now, deliberate, each thrust a promise. My nails dig into his shoulders, tracing the ink of skulls and roses across his skin. “You’re mine tonight,” he says, eyes locking onto mine, and for a moment, I believe it—believe I’m more than a fleeting thrill.
The pressure builds, his hips grinding against me, hitting every nerve. My head falls back, moans spilling free as he drives me higher, his grip bruising, anchoring. “Come for me, Scarlet,” he orders, and I shatter, pleasure crashing through me, my body clenching around him. He follows, a low groan tearing from his throat as he spills inside me, his forehead pressed to mine.
We’re still for a moment, breathing hard, sweat-slicked. He pulls back, tucking himself away, his gaze unreadable. “You did good,” he says, but there’s a distance in his tone, a wall slamming down. My heart twists, realizing he’s already retreating, even after this.
I slide off the table, legs shaky, pulling my clothes on under his watchful eye. He doesn’t stop me as I head for the door, but his voice follows, low and final. “Don’t expect more.”
I step into the night, the cold biting my flushed skin. I wanted to be different, to crack his armor, but as I walk away, I know I’m just another shadow in his world. Yet something stubborn in me whispers I’ll try again—because even a glimpse of Holden’s fire is worth the burn.