Slingshot by K.L. Savage

“You scared the living fuck out of us,” Reaper says as he slaps the back of my head.

“Don’t hurt him too much. He just came out of surgery,” Doc says.

My mind is foggy, and my vision isn’t clear yet, but I can hear them distinctly. “What happened?” I croak, and Doc is in front of me with a glass of water. “Dean?” Panic hurts the incision in my side as it begins to spread.

“He’s okay. It isn’t him I’m worried about. It’s you.” Doc pulls up a chair and sits down, rolling closer to the edge of the bed. Reaper lifts his hand to hit me again, and Doc catches him by the wrist. “What did I say about hurting my patient?”

“Your patient scared me half to death.” Reaper cracks his neck and drops his hand.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” The cold water soothes the dryness in the back of my throat. It’s never tasted so good. Other than the dull pain from the stitches in my side, I feel better. I can breathe in and out, fully expanding my lungs, and I haven’t been able to do that since I got shot. “I feel good as new.”

“You are…for the most part. How long have you not been able to breathe, Slingshot?”

I close my eyes and think, counting back to when the shortness of breath started. I can’t remember. “I don’t know, Doc. It’s something I should have told you about.”

“You think?” he scoffs, grabbing my medical chart. He begins to flip through it, and unlike the other charts of the members, mine is much thicker because I had cancer.

“It’s back, isn’t it? My cancer?” the tone of my voice can only be described as dread. I had hoped I had it beat the first time, but I know the chances of it coming back are high. If it has come back full force, I don’t want to fight it. It nearly killed me the first time, and I’d rather die on my own terms.

Isn’t that what life is all about? Making your own set of rules and guidelines, changing and breaking them if necessary?

I want to break my own rules.

“Reaper? I want you to do it,” I tell him, pushing my head back against the soft pillow.

“Do what?” he questions, confused.

Doc’s face turns white as a sheet when my question hits him. “He wants you to kill him.”

“What the fuck kind of shit is that Slingshot? I’m not killing you.”

“I don’t know if your cancer is back. You had a tumor against your lung. That’s why you couldn’t breathe. It’s been there, growing for weeks. That’s why you had shortness of breath. I don’t think it’s cancer. It seemed benign from my experience with seeing these, but I’m testing it just to make sure.”

“A tumor? A spontaneous tumor? Will I get another?” Before he can answer, I silence him by raising my hand and then yank all the wires off my body. I do that to the IV needle, which causes blood to splatter everywhere, ruining the blue blanket. “I need to call Natalia.” I look for my phone, opening and closing the dresser drawers, forgetting the twinge in my side. I don’t give a fuck about the stitches. “Fuck! Where is it? Where’s my phone?”

“Why do you need to call Natalia?” Reaper’s question is masked in disapproval.

“Because he had a date with her.” Doc pushes away from Reaper and rolls to the other side of the room to stay away from his madness.

“Why the hell would you have a date with Mateo’s daughter?”

I clench my fists and sit back down on the bed, trying my best to control my anger. “Because I’m allowed to date whoever the hell I want. I don’t need your approval or her father’s approval. And don’t give me a lecture. You’re married to your best friend’s daughter. That would be like the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Mateo is a little different than Hawk,” Reaper tries to come up with an excuse.

“Is he? It’s still a father pissed off someone he trusted is fucking his daughter, which isn’t the case for me since I’m not fucking Natalia. I wanted to take her out on a date.” I decide not to say anything about what else I want from her.

I want everything, but it’s too early to say that. Every time I’m near her, I feel an unequivocal need to be close to her. To ask her questions, to get to know her, to make her smile. The guys wouldn’t understand simply because it’s Mateo’s daughter.

“Here,” Doc hands me my phone. “It’s dead.” He winces. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about telling her. I was too focused on you.”

I stare at the black screen and still attempt to turn it on. I don’t know her number yet. “It’s fine. It isn’t your fault.”

“Let me see Slingshot, now!”

My head tilts back, and I stare at the ceiling when I hear a furious Italian man. “Fucking great. Well, I hope you have my grave ready because this isn’t going to end well.” I swing my legs onto the bed and stare at the staircase, waiting for Mateo to come down the steps.

“He doesn’t need this kind of energy right now, Mateo.” Tank defends me, sounding like a hippie who has smoked too much pot.

Reminds me of Boomer talking about a few of his members before he left last week.

“I don’t give a fuck!” Mateo shouts. There’s a loud bang followed by something crashing onto the floor, shaking the entire foundation of the house.

That had to be Tank hitting the floor.

Hard.

The basement door swings open, and I cross my arms in preparation. He might not ask me any questions. He might kill me when he sees me. I don’t blame him. To Mateo, I stood up his daughter, and I can’t imagine what she must think.

The cock of a gun sounds, and Reaper, Doc, Knives, and Mars pull out their weapons, cocking them in return. They point at the staircase, and when Mateo comes to view, he doesn’t seem surprised to have four guns staring him down.

The barrel of his gun is pointed right at me.

“Papa!”

I hold my breath when I hear the familiar voice.

Shit.

I’m dying twice today.

“Hey, Mateo,” I wave at him from the hospital bed in my very fashionable and shitty gown that I do not want Natalia to see me in.

“You’re down here,” he says, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s disappointment in his voice that he can’t kill me.

“Papa! Don’t hurt him. Please.” She comes to a stop at his side, and when her eyes follow the direction where the gun is pointed, Natalia sees me on the bed. “Slingshot,” she gasps my name, and I hate to say that I love how beautiful it sounds when she’s concerned about me. “Dio Mio, what happened?” she asks, rushing to my side, cupping my cheek with her soft hands that are way too good to touch me, but I’m not going to complain.

“Damn it.” Mateo uncocks his gun and slides it back into its holster.

“Slingshot—” Natalia caresses the stubble on my cheek, and I lean into her touch like a cat. If I could purr, I would. “—What happened?”

“Tumor,” I say simply, shrugging my shoulder. It isn’t a big deal. I’ve gone through worse.

She gasps, and her eyes begin to water. Big fat tears roll down her cheeks, and she begins to cry.

“Not even on your first date, and you’re making her cry. You aren’t good enough for her,” Mateo says.

“No kidding. I know I’m not. Hey, it’s okay, look at me.” I tilt her head up with my fingers, and her lashes are wet, her eyes are golden from the tears, and as much as it pains me to see her hurt, I’m flattered that she’d cry for me.

I don’t want to be the reason for her pain, but I’ll gladly be the reason for her worry.

“I’m sorry. I should have explained that better,” I say gently.

She begins to spout off in Italian, a language I can’t understand anyway. Still, I can’t even keep up with the words she’s transitioning to.

“Natalia, I don’t know anything you just said.” I grin.

“Idiot,” Mateo slings at me.

Natalia turns her head over her shoulder and speaks to Mateo in their native language, which surprisingly shuts him up. When she gives me her attention again, I wipe her cheeks with my thumbs.

Goddamn, she’s gorgeous. Why the hell would a woman like her want anything to do with a man like me?

“I think we should give them privacy,” Doc suggests.

“Over my dead body,” Mateo snorts.

“That can be arranged.” Knives still has his gun out, keeping it pointed at Mateo as he climbs the steps. “I’m itching to end your ass.”

“Everyone put your dicks away,” Tool orders. He’s still acting President as Reaper takes time to be with his family. “Let’s head upstairs. There’s pie if Skirt hasn’t eaten it all.”

One by one, the guys leave, and Knives tucks his gun in the waistband of his jeans but takes out a ninja star next.

Always on guard and ready for action.

“Doc, I’m okay, right?” I ask him before he leaves the room.

“Yeah, for now. I’ll want more x-rays every few weeks and honesty from you. The surgery was microscopic. You’ll be sore for a few days, so take it easy.” He’s the last one to head up, and when they shut the door, I let out a breath.

Finally alone. “I’m so sorry, Natalia. I didn’t have time to text you to warn you. I couldn’t breathe. My phone died.” I lift the phone up for proof.

“You said tumor. Cancer?” She doesn’t care about anything I just said, just my wellbeing.

She’s perfect.

“I don’t care about the date. I know you didn’t stand me up. It did cross my mind, but a part of me knew better.”

“You have no idea how happy that makes me.” I tilt my head into her hand, her palm cool against my heated skin.

No one’s touch can compare to hers.

I’m a goner.

“Okay, come here. What I’m about to say won’t be easy, and you need to hear it before you get involved with me. If you still want to, that is…” I gently pull her beside me and wrap my arm around her shoulder to bring her closer.

“No, I want to look at you while you talk to me,” she says, settling across my lap.

I clear my throat when her dress raises above her thighs. “Might not be the best place to sit,” I warn, fighting the urge to grip her thighs and roll her against my cock. Christ, this dress looks fantastic on her.

“I know,” she says, coy while biting her bottom lip.

She’s a tease, and unlike some men, teasing turns me on. I love the game. It’s a cat and mouse. I love having what I want dangling in front of me, only for it to be ripped away.

You know what’s so great about her teasing?

It means she’s going to end up on her back while I take, own, and claim her eventually.

I grip her hips, careful not to push her against my hardening cock.

“You were saying?” she purrs.

I reach for the water cup and bring it to my lips, drinking the liquid down as if I’m parched. I set the plastic cup on the table. “I had cancer in my twenties, and there is a possibility I’ll get it again. My mom died from it, and I won’t be surprised if I do too. I’ve been in remission for a while, but that doesn’t mean forever. The tumor against my lung…I don’t know what caused it. Doc doesn’t think it’s cancerous. He said it was benign. Maybe it was my body’s reaction to being shot. I don’t really know. I’m high risk, Natalia. If we’re going to be together, you need to know what you’re signing up for. Say we have kids. They could get cancer since it seems to run in the family. There’s a chance you could end up taking care of me down the road.” I move my hands up and down her arms, and her skin arises in goosebumps from my touch.

Mine.

She’s reacting that way to me.

“And I don’t know if that’s fair to you. You’re so young.”

“Twenty-two,” she corrects.

Better than nineteen, but still.

“Okay, I’m thirty-five. When I’m older, you don’t need to be taking care of someone on their death bed.”

“You have really thought this through,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck. “You’re planning out our entire lives, and we haven’t even gone on a date yet.”

I blush from being called out. “Well, it’s something I do have to think about. Not everything is black and white with me. It’s shades of gray. I’m warning you what you might get with me.”

“Might,” she emphasizes. “Might. Maybe you won’t get cancer again, and maybe our imaginary children will be healthy forever. No need to live off what-ifs, right? You might find out you don’t like me so much.” She leans in slowly, and my heart hammers against my chest the more distance she closes between us.

“Impossible,” I whisper, my eyes cast down to her lips.

So full. They’re the perfect shade of pink.

“I like you too much already to ever think about letting you go.” My finger plays with the thin strap of her dress delicately lying against the curve of her shoulder.

“You don’t know much about me.”

“That’s what makes how I feel so fucking great.” I can’t wait any longer. I cup the back of her head and pull her to me, smashing my lips down on hers. I didn’t plan for our first kiss to be in a hospital bed while I wear a gown made of paper, but I’m not letting the opportunity to feel her lips go by.

Her hands rub over my shoulders, and her fingers clasp the cheap material of the gown, twisting it until there’s a slight rip. I push her against me, unable to stop the need to feel the heat between her legs against my cock.

She’s tentative. Her movements are timid as she kisses me back. Her tongue is eager and unsure as she strokes mine in return.

My fingers tangle in her hair, my nails digging into her scalp. I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but she tastes better than tacos ever could.

I wanted us to kiss at the end of our first date. I’m traditional like that. I had a plan, and this kiss is wrecking it, unraveling me piece by piece.

I’m a risk to want, but she wants me anyway.

I’m a gamble.

I’m not a sure bet.

She’s betting on me anyway.

I wrap my arms around her tighter, almost letting a painful grunt ease past my lips from the stitches pulling.

“You aren’t going down there, Mateo.”

“Reaper, his…filthy hands are probably all over my daughter,” Mateo shouts from the kitchen, which can easily be heard downstairs.

I bring the kiss to an end. Me. Not her. She wants to continue, but Mateo is right. My filthy hands are all over her, and if we don’t stop soon, I’m going to be taking more than innocent touches. And she deserves more than getting fucked on a hospital bed with her dad in the kitchen.

Awkward.

A part of me wants to do it just because…

One day.

She whimpers as I pull away and crashes her lips onto mine again. Heated and needy. Every turn of her head, every glide of her lips, is more confident than the last.

And then she rocks her hips against me, rubbing her heat over my cock, dragging her wet cunt over me, and I know she’s wet because I can feel it through the thin material of her panties.

“Natalia.” I barely recognize my own voice as it comes out hoarse, steeped in arousal. We kiss again. “We have to stop.” Our lips create that beautiful smacking sound, and her teeth nip my bottom lip while she moans, using my cock as her own play toy. I can’t tell if she’s teasing me now or taking what she wants. My hands grip her sinister hips to bring her to a stop. “Natalia.”

But she isn’t listening to me.

She’s dazed. Out of her mind with lust.

So I do the only thing that comes to mind.

I lift my hand and let it fly through the air, spanking her ass, so she stops. “I said enough!” I don’t mean to sound so stern, so forceful, but I can’t stop them. It’s too late.

Her eyes cloak, and she pokes her bottom lip out as she pouts. “But I don’t want to stop. I’m so close.”

Holy hell, she likes being spanked.

It makes me wonder what else she likes…

Control. I need to think of control. I need to have the upper hand and be the better man.

“That’s too bad, Natalia. If I have to wait, so do you.” I squeeze her ass in my palms, feeling the warmth rising from the left cheek I slapped.

“Yes, Sir,” she concedes beautifully, and my mind races to a conclusion that I’ve always wanted but never had the guts to try.

I think Natalia might be submissive, and that thought has a bead of precome dripping out of me and pooling against my stomach. “Be a good girl and listen to me.” I skim my finger up her arm, then neck, feeling the quick rise and fall of her pulse before I wrap my hand around her throat. “We aren’t doing more than kissing with your father upstairs. Okay?”

“But—”

“—Don’t argue with me,” I lower my voice, and her eyes look down in beautiful submission.

“Yes, Sir,” she says again, and the urge to flip her over and claim her becomes so much stronger.

I know a lot about myself, and I know I’m not the type to automatically come on to someone as very dominating, but in bed, I’m different. I feel like I can let go.

“Good girl,” I praise her, and a satisfied, lazy grin tilts her lips.

She really does like it.

God, help me.

If cancer doesn’t kill me, she will.

“About that date,” I ask her out again, hoping another tumor doesn’t try to kill me. “I’d really love if we tried again in a few days.”

“Can this be our first date?” The dazed expression slowly diminishes, and I already miss the glassy appearance her eyes take on when she’s aroused.

“I’d rather it not be. You deserve more than being felt up in a hospital bed with dried tears on your face and maybe a little hesitancy about taking this further with me.”

“No hesitancy,” she says, combing her fingers through my hair. “And I think honesty for a first date is pretty special, don’t you? I think we learned a lot about each other.” She rubs her hands over my chest, gliding her fingers through the chest hair poking out of the top of the neckline. “Things maybe we didn’t know about ourselves.” She glances away, her caramel-colored cheeks tinting flushed in embarrassment.

“I happen to really love what we discovered.” I gather her hair and push it over her shoulder, showing the slender curve of her neck that I want to decorate in red marks and nips.

If she gives me her heart by some miracle, I’m going to show her there’s not a better man for her than me.

“Natalia! We’re going!” Mateo’s testy tone echoes throughout the basement.

She lets her head fall to my chest. “I better go.”

“Yeah, you should.” I wrap my arms around her, not wanting to let her go.

That space in my heart that’s been empty for so long?

It’s full right now.

How do I let that go when I haven’t had it for so long?

“Go on, Good Girl. We’ll see each other soon enough.”

She slides off the edge of the mattress, and her dress lifts in the back, giving me the tease of her plump ass and the sheer black panties she’s wearing. I snake my arm out and glue it to her side, and I sit up in time for her to smash against me. “Wear those same fucking panties when I see you again. Do you understand me?”

The sexual haze falls across her eyes again as she nods.

“Natalia!”

“I’m coming!” she shouts.

“Not yet,” I whisper, teasing her like she’s been teasing me. “Kiss me, Good Girl, and then you can go.”

She listens beautifully, pressing her lips against mine, soft and tender. “Bye, Slingshot,” she says, my road name ghosting over my lips, and I don’t like how it feels.

“Noah,” I correct her.

“Noah,” she repeats, and a bright smile takes over her face. “I like that.”

“No one else calls me that but you.”

“I feel special.”

“Oh,”—I cock my head and admire her beauty. The goodness of her soul coming off her in waves. I cup her jaw. “—You are.” I bring her hands to my mouth and kiss her knuckles. “Go on.” Soon enough, she won’t be going back to her dad’s house.

She’ll be with me.

She’ll wake up with me, go to sleep with me, fuck me, and be under my roof. It will be my turn to take care of her. She’ll have her freedom.

Until I say otherwise.

As long as she’s a good girl, she’ll get whatever she wants.

Natalia turns her heart-shaped face over her shoulder and blows me a kiss, then lifts the back of her dress before letting it fall. She giggles as she runs up the steps.

Mental note: she isn’t good.

She’s bad.

A bad girl gets punished.

A rumble of pleasure vibrates my chest as I relax against the bed. The silence around me lets me hear Mateo and Natalia walk across the floor and out the front door. Her footsteps are lighter, timid, more reserved than her father’s footsteps that are loud and beyond confident.

A man that always strides with purpose and what he wants.

He better watch out because what I want is right next to him. He’s so blinded with what he wants, he won’t even see me steal her away from his clutches.

The only cuffs she’ll have against her wrists are the ones I put there.

She won’t ever be able to find the key.

Locked, chained, and bound.

That’s how I want her.

In every position. Every morning. Every night.

And the only way I’ll unlock her is if she asks, but even then, I’ll be locked with her.

I have this problem of going all-in with my heart when I want something. It’s one thing my mom loved about me but giving it your all before someone is ready can be intimidating.

It’s a gift and a curse having a heart that just wants to fucking love until it’s obsessed.

If Natalia allows me, I’ll consume myself with her until the spaces between each heartbeat are full of obsession and madness.

Wanting someone like this is dangerous. There are two ways this path can end.

In love.

Or death.

But death can’t stop love.

“Are you okay?” Doc asks in the middle of the staircase, interrupting my dark, fucked up thoughts.

“Fine. I’m going to get some shut-eye.”

“Alright, if you need anything, let me know.”

I lift my thumb in a ‘good to go’ gesture.

When the basement door shuts again, and I’m left alone, I throw the covers off my legs and lift the annoying fucking gown chafing my hard cock.

“Fuck,” I sneer when I see how angry the tip is. It’s nearly purple from the blood flowing to it. The vein underneath the side is pulsing, stretching my shaft to the brink.

I want to relieve myself, but I love the burn, the ache deep in my sack making me want to come.

I grip the mattress, thrusting my hips into the air. I grit my teeth and let out a long grunt. Fuck, I need to come.

But I won’t.

I’ll continue torturing myself because the next time I come will be inside Natalia. She’s going to take every drop like the good girl she is.

And if she can’t, I know she’ll lick me clean, so a drop doesn’t go to waste.

“Slingshot!”

My eyes round when I hear Maizey’s voice. I throw the gown over my cock and pull the blankets to my chin tight. Seriously, kids find the worst times to interrupt people. It’s like they have a radar when an adult is doing something that isn’t appropriate.

“Maizey, no. He’s resting,” Sarah lightly scolds from the top of the stairwell.

“But I made him a drawing. He has a taco, and I maded a taco truck,” she explains.

“Made,” Sarah corrects her. “He’ll love it when he wakes up from his nap, okay?”

“Okay!” Maizey says happily, and when the door shuts, I let out the breath I was holding.

God, I don’t think I’d be able to explain what an erection is to her. That’s too awkward. And the thought of that has my cock shriveling in seconds.

As I close my eyes and let the cold darkness finally settle around me, certain things that have been a part of me for so long begin to change.

I’ve always been on the sideline when it comes to violence. There are a lot of men in the club that kill and torture. I never felt like I had to, but I would. I have their backs always, and there have been a few times where my presence was needed.

Now that I have something in my life worth fighting for, something special to me and me alone, I’d not only fight; I’d kill. I feel the rage building at the thought of anyone or any outside influence hurting her.

If they did, if they do, I’ll become death.

I’ve looked death in the eyes once while it took my mom. I’m not afraid to witness it again with someone who touches what is mine.

A new side of me is brewing, and I hope it never has to be seen.