Chaos by Sarah Bailey

Forty One

Scarlett

I was dying. I swear to fucking god I was. West’s amber eyes were almost black as he stared down at me, his fingers mastering my clit with absolute precision as I stroked his cock back to full mast. There was something about the fear I felt around West. It made my pussy gush with need for him. And right now, I was shit scared of the man towering over me, telling me he owned my pussy. I was terrified because he saw right through me. He knew me on a level I didn’t even know myself on. Like I was intrinsically tied to him.

“This little pussy is so wet for me. So fucking wet and ready for my cock.”

The only sound I could make was a high-pitched whine in agreement. My other hand wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. Wanting him to fuck me until I cried and came all over his dick. I wanted to feel myself clench around his length, show him how much I needed his beautiful cock inside me.

He let go of my neck so he could pull my jeans off my hips, dragging my underwear with it. Turning me around, he forced me against the stack of bricks behind us, pressing my face into them. My hips were tugged back, meeting his body as his cock slid between my wet folds. I moaned, my palms flattening against the bricks.

West didn’t enter me, content to rub his dick along my slit and coat it in my arousal. The more he did it, the more I whimpered, my nails scraping along the bricks.

“I want you,” I cried out, not caring about how much noise I was making. “Please, West. Fuck me.”

He leant over me, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck to keep me in place.

“Do you need this dick? Need it so bad, it’s making you crazy, hmm?”

“Yes, fuck, please.”

“You told me you need more than good dick, Scar. Has that changed?”

I trembled, trying to push back against him.

“You’re more than that to me,” I whispered. “I want all of you.”

I was tired of lying to myself about my attraction to West. Tired of pretending something about him didn’t make my soul sing. Maybe I was crazy, but I was crazy for him. My psycho. The man who’d branded his horseman persona on my skin. He was fucking well mine.

“Take what you want then, Scar. You told me I’m yours, so fucking take me.”

My hand dropped from the bricks and reached between us. His cock was slippery from my essence, but I pressed it to my entrance and pushed myself back against him. A low moan sounded in the back of my throat. Fuck, he felt so good. Everything about him.

He took over from me then, thrusting deep and impaling me on the whole fucking thing. My knees threatened to buckle, but he kept me upright with his hand on my hip and the other around the back of my neck.

West took me with brutal thrusts, our skin slapping together in time with each of our grunts of pleasure. Neither of us spoke. We didn’t have to. Need had taken over. It consumed the two of us. I didn’t care if we were out in the open on a building site. Didn’t give a shit if someone stumbled upon us. All I could think about was West. All I could feel was him. His body hammering into mine. And when he pressed his face into my shoulder, his teeth gripping my jacket, I knew he was as affected as me by the experience.

My fingers slipped over my clit, stroking myself into a fucking frenzy as he kept pounding into me. The angle of his cock was almost too much, brushing right up against the right spot and making my vision blur.

“Don’t stop,” I gasped, trying to gulp down oxygen into my lungs. “Please, fuck.”

“Scream for me, Scar. Let the whole damn world know how much you need me.”

“I don’t want the world to know. Just you… only you.”

He shuddered against me at my words, like he was barely holding onto his fucking sanity. Mine was already shot to pieces. Fractured by the events of my life and the way he was fucking me. The way he was owning my body and my pleasure.

“I need you,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me again. Never leave me.”

I didn’t know what he meant by again, but I couldn’t ask him. I was too overwhelmed by the way his dick kept slamming into my pussy with such brutality, it bordered on painful. But I loved it. I needed it. All of it. All of him.

“Fuck, West!”

I shattered, my world splintering into a thousand tiny specs of dust. My eyes closed and I let bliss wash over me. Allowed myself to be carried away. Nothing mattered but him. I could feel him inside me, drawing out my climax whilst my fingers continued to brush over my clit. The moment it became too much, my hand fell away, but he didn’t stop. He kept pounding my pussy, his dick swelling inside me as I clenched around him.

“My little Scar,” he groaned in my ear. “My beautiful girl.”

It was everything. This moment between us as he emptied himself inside me, owning me with his cock. Claiming me as his own. I surrendered myself to him. It was my only choice. I couldn’t keep fighting against the tidal wave. West drowned me. And I let him.

We were both panting when our bodies finally settled together. West wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my neck, holding me to him as if his life depended on it. If only I could stay with him like this forever. If only I didn’t have to face up to the fact my heart recognised the four of these men. It yearned for them despite everything they’d done. And it wanted West to write his name all over it. It wanted me to brand myself all over his in return.

When he finally pulled away and tugged my clothes up, along with his own, my breathing had returned to normal and my legs were no longer shaking. It wasn’t like I could clean myself up, so I would have to deal with his cum dripping from me for the rest of the evening. It was worth it for the experience I’d shared with him.

“I didn’t bring you here to fuck you,” he murmured, stroking my hair back from my face.

“Then why did you?”

He smiled.

“I’ll show you.”

He took my hand and we picked our way through the building materials until we came to the shell of a building. It was clearly abandoned, or at least, it must be on a normal night. Graffiti marred the walls. Years old ripped plastic sheeting flapped in the cool breeze. And yet the sounds of people could be heard inside along with music.

I don’t know why I got a sick feeling in my stomach seeing this place. It felt almost… ominous. A part of me wanted to recoil from it, but West dragged me towards the opening and inside before I could say a word. There was a large crowd of people gathered. They were cheering and shouting at something happening in the middle of the room.

“What’s going on?” I asked West.

He pulled me past the crowd towards the stairwell. We walked up a couple of the steps so I could see above the heads of the crowd. They were in a ring around two bare-chested men with their hands up. One of them snapped his fist out, catching the other one around the jaw.

West had brought me to what I assumed was a bare-knuckle fight, and I had no idea how I felt about it. He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer to his body. I watched the two men go at each other. I could feel him vibrating with excitement next to me as if watching this got him going. It shouldn’t surprise me. Violence was his thing.

“Is this even legal?” I asked, looking up at him.

“Nope. Underground fights never are, it’s why they do it here. No one gives a shit about this place. It was left to rot years ago.”

“Why?”

West shrugged even as his body tensed. It made me suspicious about the real reason he’d brought me here, but I didn’t comment on it. This place felt wrong to me. So fucking wrong. And I had no idea why. A cold sweat beaded at the back of my neck. I tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the fight in front of me, but the feeling grew and grew until it was almost too much. As if sensing my unease, West pulled me against his front, wrapping his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder.

“Do you come to these often?”

I needed a distraction. Anything to keep my mind off my unease.

“I used to participate until Drake got me banned. To be fair, I did almost kill a man, but he doesn’t like me coming here. He’ll be angry when he finds out I brought you.”

“You don’t care what he thinks.”

“Not really.”

I did wonder at West’s friendship with the other three sometimes. They seemed to tolerate his insanity to a point until he crossed some sort of invisible line. Then all bets were off.

“Why are you all friends?”

“Who? Me, Pres, Drake and Frankie?”

I nodded.

“Just are, Scar.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He chuckled, holding me tighter.

“We’ve been together through thick and thin. They’re my family and I’m theirs, no matter how much they want to punch me in the face at times.”

I looked at his face. There was tension lining his brow. Somehow, I didn’t think he liked me asking these questions.

“You’re just so different from each other.”

“And? Does that prevent us from being friends?”

“Well, no, but Drake told me last night that something happened to you when you were younger. Something that changed you all.”

West stiffened. I knew probing him was probably a bad idea, but my curiosity got the better of me.

“It did.”

“Will you tell me what—”

“Hey, I know you,” came a voice from nearby.

I turned my head back towards the crowd, finding a guy standing at the bottom of the stairs staring right at West.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

West released me before pressing me behind him.

“Says who?”

The guy tipped his chin.

“Says fucking everyone. Bennett banned you from coming back here.”

“Bennett doesn’t have a fucking say in what I do.”

I didn’t know who the hell Bennett was, but I didn’t like the way the guy was eyeing West, nor the way my man’s muscles tensed and his fists clenched.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And with that, West jumped down from the stairs and raised his fist, smashing it into the guy’s face. His head snapped back as my hand went to my mouth. West hit the guy again before he hit back, catching West around the jaw. The crowd noticed the commotion behind them. The fight was forgotten as West and this guy beat on each other.

I stumbled down the stairs, wanting to intervene even though watching West lose his shit was kind of hot. The way he ducked the guy’s attempts to hit him further with a weird sort of grace. The crack of the guy’s nose shattering under the impact of West’s fist.

“West!”

He glanced over at me and grinned before getting back into the fray. Two other people had joined in, trying to drag the guy away from my man. It was useless. West hit one of them in the face and caught the other in the stomach. I watched in horror as the crowd started to cheer him. He smacked the mouthy guy down on the ground and kicked him in the stomach for good measure. The other two were still trying to stop West, but they couldn’t get a good grip on him.

The whole thing was utterly crazy. Then it was over as two much bigger guys dragged West off the one he had pinned down on the ground.

“Dude, chill the fuck out, Jesus!” one of them said as West shrugged them off.

He put his bloody knuckles up in surrender before cracking his neck. Without a glance at the man he’d almost beaten to a pulp groaning on the floor, he stalked over to me. There didn’t look like there was a scratch on him. And the blood on his hands wasn’t his.

“Let’s go,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me up the staircase.

He didn’t care to deal with the mess he’d left behind. West was carefully controlled chaos contained inside a man who wielded it with maximum efficiency.

On the first floor, there were people everywhere chatting and a few making out by the pillars holding the building up. West ignored them and took me up two more flights. There was no one on this level. He led me over to the other side of the building from the stairs, stopping near the edge and turning to me. His amber eyes were full of emotions I didn’t understand.

I stepped closer and took both of his hands in mine, looking them over to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

“It’s not mine,” he murmured.

“Was that necessary?”

He smiled, but it was sad.

“Probably not, but…”

“You’re not very appropriate.”

“Exactly.”

I don’t know why I wasn’t scared of him for what he’d done. Why it made me want to hold him close and take away the demons circling behind his eyes. West could go from zero to a hundred at the drop of a hat. And yeah, it did terrify the crap out of me, but it also made me want to understand him. Want to know the man hiding inside.

I wanted to know his heart.

“Who is Bennett?”

“Bennett Jerome Michaelson. Head of a gang in Hackney, but he runs this underground ring.”

“And you don’t care if he banned you.”

“Nope. This isn’t his land, anyway. I can be here if I want to.”

The wind blew, ruffling his light brown hair. An image of him became clear in my mind. He stood in this exact place except he was younger. I shook myself. It couldn’t be real. Yet this place was too familiar in a way I couldn’t put my finger on. And I wanted to dispel the feeling. I wanted it to go away. I wanted the magic of the two of us locked together in ecstasy back. I needed it so fucking badly, I could hardly think straight.

Stepping closer, I let go of his hands and wrapped my hands around his neck.

“West…”

“Yes, my little Scar?”

A tiny furrow appeared between his knitted brows as he looked at me. As if he was worried about what I was planning. Well, he should be after all the times he’d told me this wasn’t something he did.

“I’m going to kiss you and if you don’t want me to… you have to stop me.”