Hate on Me (Knights of Retribution MC Book 3) Read online

  He licks his bottom lip and chuckles lowly, “I don’t, I’m just not an asshole one-hundred-percent of the time.”

  “I don’t understand you.”

  “No one does. It’s part of my charm.” Needles smirks devilishly, still with his hands on my body. His hand is on my side, running his fingers along my hip while the finger he just used to tap my temple is pressed against the side of my face.

  “You’re not charming,” I correct him.

  He scoffs again, “Give me time, little girl, I always manage to charm everyone.”

  “You won’t charm me,” I’m firm in my decision. Needles isn’t anyone I ever want to choose to be around. He doesn’t exactly have a peachy personality, and the last thing I want to do is have more of a headache.

  “That’s adorable. Pretty sure I charmed the fuck out of your wet cunt the other night.”

  Taken aback by his words, I’m not sure what to say at first. “I was working. Just because I cum, it doesn’t mean I’m into you.”

  He licks his lips again and runs his hand over his head. “I h—”

  “Why were you even in that movie? I swear I overheard you telling King you’d never star in a movie with me, ever, so why did you?” I don’t even give a damn that I interrupted him. What’s more important to me is figuring this shit out, understanding the reasoning behind it.

  Needles blinks his eyes a couple of times and drops his hand from the side of my face to my throat, tightening his grip, he brings his face closer to mine, his lips almost touching mine and stares down at them. “I wanted to know what it felt like to fuck the woman I hate.” I should take what he said the wrong way, but I don’t. Instead my core grows warm and my stomach is doing summersaults. He snickers lightly, “What did you think about fucking the man you hate?”

  My throat grows dry and I’m caught completely off guard. I didn’t expect him to ask me a question like this. “Flora,” he says my name after I don’t answer him, increasing his grip around my throat, his lips get closer until they’re lightly grazing mine.

  “I enjoyed it.” He cackles at my admission before colliding his lips onto mine. Our kiss is opened-mouthed, carnal, and possessive. It’s like two raging infernos colliding into one another, creating a firestorm of dangerousness. Needles deepens the kiss and I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck, not sure why I’m doing this, but not giving a fuck about the repercussions. Yeah, we hate each other, but the last time we fucked my pussy was exploding with fireworks and I crave that closeness right now. I need to relax, to forget about the people who’re here at the club right now.

  Needles releases his grip on my neck, runs his hands through my black hair, brushing it back and lifts me up into his arms. He shoves my back against the side of the clubhouse and pins me against the metal. My legs are wrapped around his torso and he uses a hand to hike up my dress, pushing my panties to the side, he dives his fingers inside me, immediately feeling my wetness. He pulls his lips from my mouth and smirks, his breath hot and heavy on my lips. “Fucking hell, you love being fucked by me, don’t you?”

  “Don’t let this go to your head, Needles,” I tell him breathlessly, searching his eyes to try and see if I can tell what his game plan is here. If this is just a hate-fuck, I’m down for it, but if he’s looking for . . . if he’s looking for something else, that’ll never be me. Don’t get me wrong, I want to be the woman who’s able to have a normal relationship at some point, but I’m far too damaged.

  “Nothin’ is goin’ to my head, little girl, just let me keep playin’ with fire.” I let out a breath in relief, and the distinctive sound of him pulling his zipper down rings out. In a matter of seconds he’s at my entrance, hammering inside me. There’s no warning, no easing himself inside me. It’s only hot, heated, fast fucking. He pounds into me so hard his balls slap against my pussy, making clapping sounds. I lean my head back and Needles brings his lips down onto my neck and bites down on my flesh. The combination of his grip on my neck and the way he rams himself into my pussy causes euphoria to take hold of me sooner than I thought.

  He drives his cock inside me over and over again, shoving himself into my center. So quickly his dick rams against my cervix. Again, pain mixed with pleasure and I moan out in the sinful pleasures Needles is bringing me. As I dig my nails into his shoulders, he brings his body right against mine, pummeling into me even further, grinding his cock against my G-spot until I’m coming undone.

  “Fuckin’ hell, little girl,” he snarls against my neck, continuing to fuck me while my pussy milks his cock for whatever he has. Sweat drips from his forehead onto my skin and he releases his teeth’s grip on my neck, breathing in and out, catching his breath. Yet, I still find myself holding onto him. I could let go of him right now and be on my way, but I don’t want to.

  I want to keep my arms around him, to feel the pleasure he brings my way, but more than that . . . I want to keep feeling the security he brings whenever he’s around. Needles scares me, there’s no doubt about it, but I know deep down he’d never do anything to hurt me.

  His dark hazelnut eyes catch mine and we’re caught staring at each other. Right now, I know he’s the type of man who would kill for a woman.

  I don’t know what takes over me, but I press my lips onto his in a light-hearted manner. This kiss is thanking him for caring, even if I can’t vocalize my thanks. It’s telling him I appreciate him looking out for me, even if I might not ever say it verbally. But more than that, it’s me telling him I’m far too fucked up for him, that he deserves a normal girl who hasn’t been through the same shit I have.

  I pull away and he lowers me to the ground. While he stuffs his cock back into his pants I head back over to my house, ready to give myself a breather, but I also don’t want to give him the wrong idea.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I have been fighting since I was a child. I am not a survivor. I am a warrior

  ~ The Success Club

  Needles

  She walks away so calmly, like I didn’t just throw her up against the outside of the clubhouse and ram into her sweet pussy. But I’m here scratchin’ the back of my damn head wonderin’ what that kiss was about. She put those voluptuous lips of hers over mine and kissed me delicately, not like the way I claimed her mouth a few minutes before. It was different, but I’m not complaining, I fuckin’ liked it.

  I zip my jeans back up and head back into the clubhouse, figurin’ Flora and I can catch up later, and maybe even go for another round. Heading up the hallway, I go into the main area of the clubhouse and see that Gamble and that other guy are sitting in the two armchairs, directly across from one another. Well, this guy is important, that’s for fuckin’ sure.

  I fall in line behind a couple of the other brothers. They’re forming somewhat of a half circle around Gamble, so I walk up beside Judge. He looks over to me and then back toward Gamble and our guest, but quickly averts his direction back to me. “Might wanna wipe the lipstick off your face, brother,” he chuckles lowly, trying to bite back his smile.

  King glances over in our direction after Judge cackles and even he smirks. “Bet I can put money on who you were with.”

  “Fuck off, brother. I don’t give you shit on who you fuck,” I hiss out my whisper.

  “‘Cause I fuck ‘em all, brother, and just remember they work for the club as talent, so don’t go and fuck up our best star. Catch my drift?”

  I glance over to the left of me and glare at him. “I’m not lookin’ to fuck shit up, man, but don’t go and tell me any of ‘em are off limits, especially her. If I wanna fuck her, and she wants to fuck me, I’m gonna fuck her. Don’t act like you can go and control her body,” I hiss, a little louder. Loud enough that the one man who was with the dark-haired one from earlier comes walking over in our direction.

  Gamble and our friend still continue communicating, but I’m more focused on what this shmuck is doing. He might be here with an ally, or friend of the club, or whoever he is, but this fucker w
alkin’ toward me doesn’t rub me the right way. In all honesty, he gives me creepy ass vibes. Like the type of fuckers who cyber stalk women and then follow them around. Somethin’ doesn’t seem right with this one.

  “I always wondered if she was the type to put out,” he says in a thick accent, though I can’t place where he’s from. He sounds a bit like the other guy, but the other dude must be well traveled or he hides his accent very well.

  I blink and look at the man. “Excuse me?”

  “Flora, the slut. I wondered if she put out, but it’s obvious she does. She was wearing red lipstick,” he informs me, but I already know what the fuck Flora was wearing.

  Who the fuck does he think he is to call her a slut?

  King must realize what he said is bothering me, because he steps closer to this dude, but the second he opens his mouth and his words come pouring out, I have to take a second for his words to process in my mind.

  “I wish I’d taken her when I had the chance. If she had never gotten out, I would’ve,” the slimy motherfucker speaks up, and quickly I put the puzzle together. I don’t understand what he means about her getting out, but what I do understand is what he’s saying he would’ve done. King doesn’t step in my way as I move in front of this motherfucker, dipping my hand into the pocket of my jeans, I slip my fingers through the pair of brass knuckles, and whip my hand out, colliding it straight up until his nose cracks.

  He flies back, completely caught off guard, and I take the advantage I have. I pull my arm back again and hit the side of his jaw, and then the other side before he starts to charge at me like a raging bull.

  I dive to the right and evade him and stick my leg out and manage to trip him. He falls to the ground with a thud.

  “Enough!” Gamble hollers out, and the man sitting across from her stands up as well.

  “What is the matter with you?!” the man roars, charging up to his man, grabbing him by the throat and slapping him.

  The man on the floor releases a chortle, wiping the blood from under his nose. “We were only having a friendly conversation, Deo.”

  Finally, I know the name of his boss.

  “Friendly conversation my ass. You just said if you could’ve, you would’ve raped her,” I snarl, heading for him, but one look from Gamble causes King and Judge to grab both of my shoulders, holding me back.

  Gamble shoots her head in Deo’s goon’s direction and Deo glares at the man and pulls out a gun from under his suit jacket. He pulls the safety back and points it directly between his man’s eyes. Gamble furrows her brows, undoubtedly curious to watch the scenario unfold. But, she clears her throat and speaks up, “You two know Flora?”

  Deo gives a curt nod, while glaring at the man on the floor below him. “Yes, Flora’s uncle worked for my father before he passed. He was one of our distributors. Long story short, he mysteriously disappeared with over a kilo of cocaine. My father vowed to never hurt the children or immediate family members of his men or enemies. It was a rule he made for himself, but, he couldn’t let it get out that one of his men stole from him. So, he tracked down his daughter and niece. There was never a hand laid on the daughter, but Flora wasn’t off limits.”

  Gamble blinks, processing what’s being told to us all right now. I for one take a step closer while King and Judge try to pull me back. “What was done to her?” Gamble’s question comes out in an anger filled tone, ready to give an order I’m already prepared for.

  “My father ordered for Flora to be tortured in front of Benita, hoping it would influence Benita to tell us where her father was hiding. Only, it didn’t. Months went by and no matter what my father ordered, Benita didn’t budge, and Flora didn’t break. He wanted them to be killed, but I cut them both loose. I’m the reason they got out of Venezuela alive, so I would appreciate it if you don’t blame me for my father’s sins, and the commands he gave when he was the one in charge. I am not my father, and I never will be,” Deo tells Gamble, who’s keeping her thoughts to herself with a tight-lipped expression.

  “It was you?!” his man snaps to Deo, rising from the ground, even with the gun pointed at his head.

  “I won’t hesitate to put a bullet through your head right now, so watch your tongue,” Deo snarls.

  “I was working on her for months and you were what, going behind my back and giving her false hope?”

  Everything makes sense now, why Flora was shaking like a small dog in a tornado, why she was avoiding making eye contact with Deo’s henchmen. He was the one who hurt her. I rip myself away from Judge and King, rush up to Deo’s guy and slam my fist along the side of his temple over and over again until he’s on the floor. I smash my fists against his face repeatedly, furious at what was just openly admitted. Blood splashes against my face and I’m sure I look like a barbarian, but no one stops me. No one makes a sound. Or maybe they are and I’m tuning them out.

  My arms get pulled back and I fight whoever has their grip on me, but the moment a fist flies against my jaw, I see Butcher’s tattoos. “Calm the fuck down, brother!” he snaps, but there isn’t anything he can say that’ll calm me down right now.

  “I’m sorry, Deo, but given the circumstances you can’t expect me to apologize for what Needles did. Flora is part of our club, and we protect our own.” Gamble’s voice is more relaxed than I expect. Then again, she’s playing the diplomatic role of being Prez right now.

  “No apologies are needed. In all honesty, he’s nothing but a pain in my ass and you’re doing me a favor. Mario is yours now.” Deo looks to Gamble and then to me, giving me permission to do whatever I please.

  Gamble glances down to the ground and looks at Mario, bleeding on the floor. “Serpent, make sure our friend here stays alive. We want to make sure he feels what’s coming to him when someone messes with one of our own.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  My strength didn’t come from lifting weights, it came from lifting myself back up every time I was broken down.

  ~ TheMindJournal

  Flora

  I’m twenty minutes into watching Borat 2 when the door to the basement comes flying open. I put my arm on the back of the couch and turn back, narrowing my eyes to see who’s coming in. I turned the lights out so I can’t see too well. Turning back to the TV I pause it and rise from the couch, walk over to the wall and turn the lights on. By the time I turn around I see Needles, with blood coating his face. His chest rises and falls, nostrils flare, and he looks deeply into my eyes.

  “Whose blood is that?” I question as I take a gulp.

  Needles grabs me by the side of my face and brings his forehead to mine, his breath hot and heavy on my lips, I hear something I never thought I ever would. “I’ll make sure he never touches you again. You hear me?”

  I blink in confusion, quickly realizing my past is obviously out in the open. Yet still, I need him to tell me what he knows. “How . . . h-how do you know?”

  “That stupid fuck came up to me and said some shit about you that I didn’t like, made a remark and I put shit together. Doesn’t take a genius to do that,” Needles shuts his eyes as he speaks. “I lost my shit on him and pulled out my brass knuckles, fucked up his nose and face real good. The guys pulled me back, then that Deo guy explained he knew you in the past, told the club about your uncle, and all that.” Needles opens his eyes again, scanning my own to make sure I’m okay.

  The thing is, I’m not. I’m not remotely okay. What happened in Venezuela isn’t exactly what I want anyone to know. I’m not proud of it. I’m not happy it happened, for obvious reasons, and I don’t want to be known as the woman who was tortured, the survivor, or whatever else they want to refer to me as.

  I suck in a deep breath and sigh, trying to figure out how to react to this. I’m angry. I’m pissed. I’m disappointed. So many thoughts run through my mind, but more than anything, I’m caught on the fact that the man who claimed he wanted to hate-fuck me is still here. How he has the blood of the man who continuously brought me pain on his
skin, and how he’s caressing my skin in the gentlest of ways.

  I can’t understand this shit, why Needles is here with me right now, with his forehead pressed against mine like we’re longtime lovers. Sure, we’ve known each other for over a year now, but . . . until now we’ve only ever pushed each other’s buttons.

  “Why are you here right now, Needles?” This is the only way I’m ever going to know his reasoning, and I need to know. I need to have some sort of understanding of the situation.

  Needles brushes his hand over my hair and pulls his forehead away from mine. He goes over to the couch and sits down, but as he does, he seems reluctant as hell. “I haven’t told anyone in the club about this, at all. I’d appreciate it if you don’t . . . if you don’t repeat it.”

  I nod. “Your secret is safe with me.” I’m not even fucking with him. I really mean this. I walk over to the couch and sit a couple feet away from him, looking at his dark brown eyes and notice the way they seem darker under fake light like hazelnut, but in the sun they have a bronze glow.

  “When I was enlisted, I fell in love with a woman who was in my unit. When we were in Iraq, some shit went sideways and she ended up getting captured by a terrorist group. She . . . she was tortured for two months and by the time we got to her, they had just slit her throat and fled the area. So, when I put shit together, I lost every sense I had . . . and I’m going to make sure he fuckin’ suffers for what he did to you, Flora. It was all senseless. Hurting you was fuckin’ senseless, and it’s because of what he did that you freaked out earlier, right?”

  My chest tightens as I listen to everything he’s said, my heart breaking at the thought of what he endured, at what he lost, so I decide to break down every wall I’ve put up since my time in Venezuela.