Rebel Revenge (Saint View Rebels Book 1)

I didn’t know whether to be horrified or turned on. I clutched Lacey’s hand as the two men entered the ring and circled each other.

“You okay?” she whispered to me.

I realized I was mangling her hand. I loosened it. “Sorry. This is making me nervous. Do you watch Colt fight?”

She glanced over at her men, the three of them deep in conversation, but eyes on Kian and Fang in the ring. “I used to, back when we were in high school. But then we had a baby, and Colt calmed down a bit.” She eyed the fighters. “Are you with both of them?”

I widened my eyes. “Am I…oh God, no. I’m not with either of them.”

She nodded. “I wasn’t judging. I’m well used to polyamorous relationships. If you couldn’t tell from those three.”

I glanced at the men again. They were younger than me, in their early twenties maybe, but I wasn’t blind. They were good-looking guys. I winked at Lacey. “Lucky you. Is that how you know Bliss? Are you guys starting a gang bangs of Saint View Instagram page or something?” I cringed as soon as I said it. I barely knew this woman. “Sorry. I normally try to let people get to know me so they realize I’m not an ass when I unleash the sarcasm.”

Lacey chuckled. “It’s fine. There’s no Instagram page, but our common lifestyle is how I met Bliss. So it was a fair call. We should have an Insta. I’ll put that on the agenda for the next gang bang. A little social media discussion between orgasms never goes astray.”

I sniggered, enjoying that she didn’t take herself too seriously. “I don’t know how you guys do it. I can’t even hold down one man, let alone multiple.”

Lacey gave me a sly wink. “Have you ever tried though? There’s nothing like having three men, solely focused on you…”

I nodded at the two guys squaring off in the ring. “Right now, I think they only have eyes for each other.”

She laughed. “Hey, that’s hot too.”

Hell yeah, it was. But I already knew there was no chance of that with these two. Fang was as straight as an arrow. Kian, though…Something had happened between him and Vaughn. I was sure of it. I was dying to know what.

Our laughter, or at least mine, died when Kian’s first punch connected squarely with Fang’s jaw.

That was all it took. One punch for all out chaos to reign.

Fang retaliated with a quick follow-up, slamming one fist across Kian’s face, the next to his midsection.

I gasped at the force of the heavy blows, each one thumping loud enough for me to hear over the shouts and cheers of the crowd.

They were all living for it.

While I was sick to my stomach, nausea clutching at me, wringing my stomach.

They were doing this for me. This was so stupid. I was not worth the pain they were inflicting.

Fists flew. Blood sprayed. Heavy breaths were forced through split lips as the two went at each other.

Kian was all form and grace, his movement beautiful in a deadly sort of way. Someone had trained him and trained him well.

Fang was the opposite. A street fighter through and through, but no less dangerous.

Kian’s next punch sent Fang to the ground, his back sliding through the gravel.

“Fuck, that’s gonna hurt tomorrow.” Colt winced.

But it was hurting me now. Kian followed up with a punishing round of blows, while tears welled in the backs of my eyes for the man on the ground. I’d seen many a fight, working at Psychos. But nothing like this. Nothing like seeing Fang down on the ground, being savagely attacked and doing nothing to stop it. I wouldn’t have thought it possible if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes.

He was better than this. Maybe not as good as Kian, but something was very wrong here.

“He needs to concede,” Colt murmured. “Kian has him.”

Everyone could see it. A hush fell over the crowd as Kian kept going, pummeling Fang’s face and torso, each blow landing like a sledgehammer against cement.

Fang had stopped fighting back.

He’d stopped even trying to defend himself.

His gaze slid to mine and caught, and in his eyes, I saw every ounce of remorse.

He knew. I could see it in his eyes, in the depth of agony there that had nothing to do with the pain Kian was inflicting on him right now. He knew the attack had happened that night after he’d walked out of the bar and left me alone. He knew, and he was blaming himself, letting Kian punish him for my poor choices.

“Stop,” I croaked out. “Make them stop. He’s going to kill him.”

Lacey glanced over at me; worried expression etched into her pretty features. “He has to tap out. Kian will just keep going if he doesn’t.”

Fang would never tap out. Never. I knew it instinctively. He’d rather die.

Especially if he was punishing himself.

I let go of Lacey’s hand and rushed into the ring.

“Rebel!” she yelped. “You can’t, you’ll get hurt!”

I ignored her, lunging for the two men grappling on the ground. “Stop!”

I think everyone, including me, was shocked when Kian froze, fist midair, ready to connect.

“Enough,” I choked out. “You’ve got the job. Stop.”

The crowd booed, clearly there for the bloodshed.

I dropped to my knees and traced light fingertips all over Fang’s face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Fang said through gritted teeth. “He was going easy on me.”

If that was Kian going easy on someone then I could barely think about what it would look like if he went all out. But since he was being such a tough guy, I let my anger roar and overtake the worry. I drew my arm back, fingers clenched into fists, and let it fly at Fang’s face.

I might have been little, but I still knew how to throw a punch. It connected solidly, the impact jolting through my arm painfully, but I ignored that, no stranger to pain. “Then that’s for trying to get yourself killed!”

I used his solid chest to push myself up and stormed away, ignoring Kian and Lacey calling my name and the crowd hooting and hollering at me, laughing and jeering. I shoved my way through the crowd, shrugging off all the pats on the back, and “Good one, girl!”

I didn’t want those. I wasn’t proud of punching Fang.

But fuck, he made me mad.

The shouts of the crowd grew dimmer as I stormed into the night, weaving through the parked cars, the lights of the fight dropping away the farther I ran.

Fang’s bike was parked on the outer edge, as far away from the action as you could get and shrouded in near complete darkness.

“Rebel.”

I froze at his voice behind me. I’d known he’d follow, but I’d hoped that by getting a head start I’d be able to lose him in the crowd. I should have known that wouldn’t be possible. He always came after me. Protected me. Once, when I’d broken a club rule, he’d refused to let anyone else punish me. My punishment had come from his hands, and in the form of a public spanking that I’d thoroughly enjoyed and followed with a delayed orgasm.

The only lesson I’d learned was to break more rules.

But this was different. He was punishing himself over something I’d done, and that made me feel like shit. The feeling had nowhere to go, except out. I lashed out, kicking at his bike, sending it toppling to the ground.

I blinked at the bike on its side, shocked at what I’d done.

I turned big eyes on him, suddenly terrified I’d pushed him too far. Bikes were everything to the guys in his club. A sacred item. They took care of them like they were babies.

I’d just sent Fang’s, with its pretty, shiny paintwork, into the gravel.

“I’m sorry,” I yelped, backing up. “I didn’t mean to take that out on you. It’s not even about you. It’s about…”

He loomed over me, strong strides swallowing up the distance between us in an instant. With his face mostly in shadow, he was terrifying. A giant beast of a man, power in every muscle, a predator stalking its tiny, mouthy prey.

My back hit a brick wall.

Nowhere else to run.

“I’m sorry,” I tried again.

The distance between us disappeared, eaten up by his enormous presence. He crowded me in, face bloodied and battered. Chest heaving either from the fight or from chasing me, I had no idea. His ice-blue eyes pinned me to the wall as much as his body did.

No escape.

Nothing to do but pay for my crime.

Fang dropped to his knees and circled his arms around the backs of my thighs. His face pressed into my belly as he hugged me tight. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m so fucking sorry, Pix.”

I froze, staring down at the massive man on his knees for me, begging my forgiveness.

“It was that guy at the bar that night, wasn’t it? The night I left you there…”

A lump rose in my throat swiftly. “Caleb. I went home with him. He had friends waiting.”

An unearthly sound ripped from his body. Something between a howl of pain and a roar of outrage.

It made one thing clear.

He was in agony. Not from the injuries Kian had inflicted on him. But from the blame he’d placed squarely on his own shoulders.

“It’s my fault. Everything that happened that night could have been prevented if I’d just stayed.” His guilt shuddered through his body as he held on to me like I was his life raft, the only thing keeping him from crumpling.

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I clutched the back of his head, holding him to me. “It’s not your fault.” The tie keeping his long hair back had come loose during the fight, and now I stroked my fingers through the sweat-soaked lengths, trying to comfort him.

“Please forgive me,” he whispered, pressing his lips to my belly. “I’m so fucking sorry. I let you down.”

I shook my head into the darkness, even though he wouldn’t see it. “I let myself down.”

His lips found the tiny slip of skin showing between my cropped shirt and jeans. I gasped at the contact, his lips hot against my belly. He trailed kisses across every inch of the gap, his hands sliding up from the backs of my thighs, over my ass, to my lower back, holding me in place.

I dropped my head back against the wall, reveling in the familiar feel of him, as desperate to take the guilt from him as he was to take it from me.

His kisses turned open-mouthed, tonguing at the flat planes of my stomach and belly button.

He found the button on my fly and raised his head, blue eyes seeking my permission. “Let me make it up to you.”

The slaps and kicks and cheers from the continuing fights filtered back, but there was no one nearby. The darkness would shroud us from any eyes that happened to look back this way.

I wasn’t sure I would ever have sex again, but that wasn’t what Fang was offering.

Caleb and his friends had certainly not touched me like this. So gently and sweetly. They hadn’t asked permission the way he was, down on his knees, begging to let him make it up to me in the only way he knew how.

Giving me all the power, even though he was twice my size.

I nodded, a trickle of fear, replaced by a breath of desire.

He was beautiful like this, with the darkness softening his scars and harsh lines. But then he’d always been beautiful to me.

He silently undid the button, and the zipper below, pressing kisses there as he went.

One sharp tug on the legs of my pants had them down around my knees, exposing the plain black panties I’d put on that morning.

He breathed deeply, his lips on the fabric covering my mound, then nuzzled in between my thighs, licking the insides.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmured. “The taste of your skin. The scent of your arousal.” He twisted my panties to one side and groaned. “The sight of your slit.”

He drove his tongue between the lips of my pussy, rasping over my clit, making me jump at the sudden rush of sensation.

I dropped my head back against the brick wall. It was hard and rough behind me, at complete odds with how soft and gentle the man between my legs was. He explored every inch of my most intimate areas, prodding his tongue against every sensitive place, checking my reaction to each.

“I need you to tell me if you’re hurt, Pix. If you’re hurt here. I don’t want to make it worse. Only better.”

I shook my head. “I was. But not anymore. All that’s left behind now are the injuries in my head.”

He licked my pussy slowly, luxuriously, like he had all the time in the world and every intention of using every second. “I’m going to kill him, Pix.”

I grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked it back sharply. “No. You aren’t. Promise me you won’t.”

His tongue darted out to touch my clit. Though it felt amazing, and would have been easy to let him get back to the task at hand, I dug my fingers into his hair harder, keeping him back. “Promise me. I have to do it, Fang. It has to be me.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but something in my expression must have stopped him. A little of his fight disappeared. “I need to be there, then. When it happens. I can’t have you going up against him alone. I’ll lose it.”

I could give him that. I wasn’t too proud to admit Caleb scared me. I wanted revenge, but I could let people have my back. That was just smart.

I might not have finished high school, but no one had ever accused me of being stupid.

“Okay.”

My acceptance chased away a couple of the demons lurking in his eyes. He put his head back down to finish the job he’d started.

“Oh,” I whispered, accepting his open mouth, fitted around my clit while he sucked gently. “I’d forgotten how amazing you are at this.”

He huffed out a displeased noise. “Then let me do it more. I’ll do it every day if you let me. I think you know that.”

I did. When he reminded me so perfectly of exactly how good he was with his tongue, it made me question my reasons for keeping him at bay.

“I want you on the back of my bike, Pix,” he murmured between licks. “I want it so fucking bad it hurts.”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

It was as good as a marriage proposal from a guy like him. Putting a woman on the back of your bike was a sacred act to him and his club, and we both knew it.

This was why I’d kept him at arm’s length.

’Cause Fang was the man you fell in love with, when you were whole and healed and ready to settle down.

If I tried to keep him before I was there, I’d ruin him.

I’d destroy everything good between us and make him miserable.

He was ready, his inner demons all laid to rest.

But I was so bitterly broken.

We didn’t fit.

“Stop talking,” I whispered, knowing I couldn’t say what he wanted me to say. “Stop talking and make me come. I don’t want to think anymore.”

I knew it wasn’t what he wanted, but it was a consolation prize at the very least. He stared up at me and put two fingers inside his mouth, coating them before putting them to my entrance.

“Go slow,” I begged him. “Please.”

It was fear talking, but I needn’t have worried. Fang was the most considerate man I’d ever had in my bed. He was safe and familiar. He watched and waited on my every cue, studying my body like he was preparing to be quizzed later. If I so much as thought about flinching in discomfort, he was all over it, switching up his tactics, changing his routine until I was moaning with desire and begging him to keep going.

He knew me. He knew what I liked.

He rimmed my entrance, playing with the arousal there while he flattened his tongue on my clit, taking long licks. He waited until I was fully relaxed, then nudged his fingers inside, stretching me perfectly. They instantly curved to stroke my G-spot in just the way I liked.

My mind numbed out. Pleasure took over.

Unconsciously, I rocked my hips toward him, and he matched my pace, fucking me with his fingers and his tongue. He pulled from my slick heat to drive his tongue up into me, before switching back to his fingers and repeating. His warm breath tickled across my skin, and his beard rasped on my inner thighs.

All the while, those eyes watched my face, making sure I enjoyed every moment, my pleasure his too.

An orgasm built deep within me, encouraged by every move he made. He reached up, hand beneath my T-shirt to cup my breast, thumb and forefinger clamping onto my nipple.

“Oh!” I moaned.

It was exactly what I needed. I grabbed at my other boob as my rocking became thrusts against his face, taking him deeper inside me. The orgasm took hold and demanded my attention.

“I’m going to come,” I moaned.

“I know, Pix. I always fucking know.”

I clutched the back of his head, keeping his mouth to me while his fingers pounded up inside me. He added a third, the stretch so sweetly perfect I fell right over the edge. “Oh!”

I came on his tongue with a rush of pleasure that blinded me. Nothing else existed except for him and me and the whirl of pleasure he’d created. I slumped against the wall, legs trembling with the force of the orgasm and unwilling to hold my weight.

I knew he’d have me.

He did.

He stood, wrapping his arms around me to bury his face in my neck. A hug while the aftereffects of the orgasm rattled through me, my body limp as a wet noodle.

“I want more, Pix. Please. Let me show you I deserve it.”

I was too scared to ask him what he meant by that. More orgasms? Good. More of anything else, I wasn’t sure I had that to give.

Someone cleared their throat from the a few feet away. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’m leaving. Just wanted to see if you needed a ride home, Rebel?”

Kian stood with his eyes averted to one side, giving us the privacy we clearly did not deserve since we hadn’t even noticed that the fights had ended and people were making their way back to their cars. Fang stood between us, blocking me from view long enough that I could get my pants up.

He looked down at me questioningly, and I knew I hadn’t answered his question.

But I wasn’t going to. Not when I didn’t know the answer. Not when Kian was standing right there waiting to drive me home.

For now, orgasms would have to be enough.