Ink

Chapter Sixteen

Every possible excuse for Stix's edginess ran through my head as we rode back. This time, there was no leisure in the ride, there was speed and there was pure rage and panic, but all of the carelessness had gone from it, from him. Stix still handled that bike like it was a part of him, though, so maybe that's why even the metal between my thighs seemed to vibrate with anxiety.

My mind was so preoccupied that I didn't even notice that we weren't headed home until I saw the signs for dual carriageways that led south – toward the M56 – and my own panic intensified. What the fuck was in that message? Because that's all it had taken – just a simple text – and Stix threw the picnic and us onto the bike before I could so much as blink, let alone ask what the fuck was happening. I'd never seen any kind of panic like this on him though, except for that night at Angels maybe, and I knew it wouldn't be for nothing, he's just not the type.

There was a muffled oath from underneath his helmet, and I noticed the fuel gage blinking up at us both, so he swung us effortlessly towards the services.

I was off the bike before he'd cut off the engine, pulling the helmet off the makeshift knot of hair that I'd made on top of my head, and shaking it out. His helmet came off with a lot more reluctance, like he didn't know how to face me or explain, which notched my anxiety up to blinding panic.

"Fill up the tank for me babe," he handed me his wallet, "Pay cash, I think there's a fifty in there still. We need a full tank, and I just need to make a call ..."

With a quick kiss to my forehead, he made to move away like I wasn't twenty seconds away from a full on fucking cardiac arrest!

"Stix ... what is it? What's happening?" Jesus, my voice didn't sound like my own. It was whiney and breathy.

"I need to make a call, then we're going to have a few days away," his voice was tight and agitated, and he could get to fuck if he expected me not to hear the lie that was simmering beneath it.

"Fuck you!" I was suddenly right in his face, with the bike threatening to tip behind him as he pushed against it, "Fuck you if you think I'm just going to take that bullshit after everything!" The wallet in my hand was slamming into his chest with my words, "What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On?"

He grabbed my wrist with his hand in a grip that was almost bruising, and dragged my body against his as he kissed me with a burning, angry intensity, his hand hard against the back of my head so I'd feel the full punishing effects of his tongue inside my mouth fighting for a submission that I wasn't willing to give. Fire rolled through me, and I just used it to push my lips back against his harder, because I was so fucking done with all these secrets and webs of lies that were lying around me, my tongue was almost duelling with his for dominance in that kiss.

I had no desire to be left in the dark after everything he'd told me, after they'd rode back into town and turned everything around. I'd been floundering because they all left me behind without any answers, and if I didn't start to ask the right questions, then that would forever be my life with Stix. CeeJay would probably have been okay with that, but Ink wasn't, and Ink was who I'd built and become since they left.

So I threw every second of anger and pain back into that kiss, and I told him without words that I wasn't going to bow down to him just because he had a cock and knew how to use it.

And when he drew back, with a kind of frustrated resignation in his eyes, and a muscle ticking beneath the scar on his face, seemingly bringing it to a life of its own, he sighed heavily and leaned his forehead against mine. We were both breathing heavily into the small space between us, both driven by anger and a kind of warped arousal that was twisting – at least it was for me – grinding at the pit of my stomach so that I didn't really know if I wanted to claw the hair off Stix's head, or drag him to a quiet corner and fuck us both into next week.