Free Tank: Apaches MC by Olivia Stephens

to have made the small water fountain the center of their world.
     
    A few minutes later, Tank appears and grabs me by the hand, forcing me off the bike. Without letting go, he leads me inside the large, wooden doors, out of the view of the villagers. With a click of his fingers, an older man appears from seemingly out of nowhere. He pushes me towards the man as he says slowly, “Manuel, this is Sierra. Whatever she needs or asks for, you get. First, she needs her clothes washed and a new dress for tomorrow. Comprende?”
     
    The older man nods his bald head enthusiastically, as he looks me over, trying to determine my size. With his orders made, Tank then turns to me. “I have to go and talk to a guy. You are not to leave this hotel, do you understand me?”
     
    “What?” I ask, as the anger and frustration builds up to a breaking point. “I thought that the point of you dragging me out here was so that I could be here when you found out who did this to Carmen?”
     
    He looks at me annoyed. He’s clearly not used to a woman, let alone a man, boss him around and tell him how to do his work. “Listen, Sierra. This is a business trip for me, too. Let me handle my end of this, and then we’ll get some answers in the morning.”
     
    “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on here!” I slam my foot in the ground, wishing for once that I had heels on. Heels always make a good foot stomping more dramatic.
     
    Instead of fighting back, Tank grabs me by the arm and leads me off towards a long, tiled hallway and through an outdoor terrace where a small pool is being filled by some groundskeepers. Tank doesn’t even acknowledge them, as he opens the last door in the corridor and roughly pushes me inside. I stumble backwards, catching the corner of a hand-carved wooden desk with the back of my legs.
     
    Tank closes the door behind him and starts walking in slowly towards me. Something in me is screaming “Red alert! Danger!” But I can’t seem to move. I just stand there, waiting for his next move.
     
    “I need you to stop fighting me, Sierra.” He stops right at the edge of the desk and leans his wide, tall body over mine. “The less you fight, the easier this is.”
     
    My knees tremble, as his hand reaches out and strokes the side of my cheek gently. I feel his finger nails as they make their way down my jawline, across my throat, and to my low-cut neckline. My mouth goes completely dry, as I try to answer back, “Never.”
     
    He pushes his hips further into me, causing me to hold onto the desk’s top. I am practically laying on it now, with my legs just dangling off the edge. His hand runs over the neckline of my dress while the other begins to slowly lower the zipper at the back of my dress. I hear it creep open, as the pupils in his eyes grow wider in anticipation.
     
    This is the part where I’m supposed to say “no.” I know that. Every part of my mind is saying that. But that pit in my stomach is growing wider and wider, and it’s begging me to just let go for once. Can I really do this, I wonder? Can I really say “yes” to a guy like Tank?
     
    I don’t have to answer that question. My red dress, the one I wore because it was Carmen’s favorite, slides down my body inch by inch. When the garment hits the top of my bra, coming to an anticlimactic stop, both of us look into the other’s eyes. His burn at me with such intensity that I think I’ll fall into the flames. And something changes. That longing that I am feeling becomes a need, a desperate horrible need.
     
    I practically lunge at him, my legs wrap around his, pulling him closer into the curve of my neck. He breathes deeply into my skin before taking his hands and splitting the seams of my dress straight down the middle. It pops open with several loud pops. The roughness doesn’t bother me, it just makes me push further into him.
     
    I catch a glimpse of his wicked smile, as he tosses the ruined dress down