Rocket (Hell's Handlers MC Book 5)

by Lilly Atlas

  Thirty seconds later she had him uncuffed. Ever since the first night, he’d followed her rules—the new rules they seemed to make together. She now trusted him enough to release him at the end. It took his molten hot gaze on her breasts to realize she hadn’t covered herself. Her face heated so quickly, she got dizzy. What the hell was wrong with her tonight? “Shit,” she said again. “Sorry. Let me get my clothes.”

  Logan laughed for real this time. “Not sure what you’re apologizing for, but it better not be keeping those gorgeous tits uncovered.”

  “No, um, well, maybe. They’re kinda small. But it was more for almost falling asleep.” Where the hell was her bra? She scanned the floor, far too embarrassed to look at him. And too shook by how much of her guard she’d let down a few seconds ago. Almost falling asleep? Shit, she needed to get her head back in the game.

  “Hey,” he said softly, as though she were a frightened kitten stuck under the couch. “Come here.”

  She obeyed without thought strictly because the gentle tone and the fact that he was chatting at all had her startled. Oh, there was her bra, lying next to the pillow. As she reached for it, Logan’s hand circled her wrist and stopped her motion.

  The moment his skin touched hers, she froze, and her vision tunneled.

  “Hey,” he said again, dropping her hand. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  Relief was instantaneous once the physical contact was gone. “Uh, no, just surprised me.” She snatched up the bra and stared at his chest so she wouldn’t have to see the questions in his eyes.

  “Come here,” he said again, now sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.” He lifted them so she had a full view of each palm then tucked them under his thighs. He had to think she was crazy. She let him eat her out and fuck her, but he couldn’t touch her wrist?

  Chloe chewed on her lower lip. She was being ridiculous. The amount of chances the man had had to harm her if he desired were in the hundreds by now. Not once had he done anything threatening, or even aggressive. She stepped closer.

  “More.”

  Another step.

  His eyebrow rose.

  One more step had her standing between his spread legs, close enough to wrap her arms around his back.

  “First of all,” he said. “The fact that I fucked you to near unconsciousness is not at all a problem for me. Actually, it’s kind of my goal. Take you so good you can’t think of walking that sexy body out of the room. This way I can do it again after you take a little nap.”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, but no words came out. What was there to say? He wanted her to stay longer?

  “And second,” he continued. “Your tits are fan-fucking-tastic. About six times this week, I jerked off to the memory of them bouncing while you rode me.”

  Holy shit. Holy shit.

  Her nipples puckered to hardened points under his attention.

  “Just one problem.”

  “W-what?” she whispered.

  “I need another fucking taste,” he said on a growl. “The quick suck I had that first night hasn’t been nearly enough to carry me through until now.” He leaned forward, capturing a nipple between his lips and pulling it into his mouth with a hard suck.

  Chloe moaned. Her head dropped back and she arched her spine and pushed her breast into his face. He tongued her nipple then pressed it to the roof of his mouth, ripping a sharp cry from her.

  There weren’t enough functioning brain cells to feel panic or even care she’d taken a huge step toward breaking their routine. All she could think about was how badly her other breast needed some attention.

  “Logan,” she said, practically begging with just one word.

  “I’ve got you, babe,” he said, kissing a path to her other breast. “Christ, I could live on these tits.” Then the other nipple was in his mouth and she was moaning once again. This time, he scraped his teeth across the sensitive bud, making her entire body jolt like she’d been hit with a live wire. The entire time, his hands remained anchored to the bed, non-threatening.

  After a few minutes, the need for release started to build in her again. She’d already had three orgasms that night and was getting close to demanding a fourth from him.

  But he was free, not bound to the bed and that lightbulb was a big bucket of ice water on her arousal.

  Logan must have felt the shift in her. He released her breast and sat back, looking her straight in the eye. “Thank you. That’ll hold me a few days.”

  His cock was fully erect once again. Looked like she wasn’t the only one to enjoy that. She was just about to offer to cuff him back up for another round when her stomach decided to let out a very loud rumble.

  Logan chuckled. “Hungry?”

  Ravenous. Sex with him always worked up an appetite. “Well, would you believe me if I said no now?”

  “Nope. Let’s go grab something to eat.”

  Chloe froze. Something to eat. Like a date? Like she was a normal woman. “I don’t kn—”

  “Come on,” he said as though she hadn’t even spoken. “I know a twenty-four-hour place around here that makes the best damn pie you’ll ever have. They usually have at least five kinds, too. I can’t let you drive home with an empty stomach. What if you pass out from low blood sugar and crash your car, who would I fuck next weekend?”

  The ridiculous scenario had her laughing. “Pie does sound good,” she said. “Last night I ate three brownies after I got home. If we keep at this, I’ll need bigger clothes.”

  He snorted. “Nothing wrong with a little cushion, babe. Less likely to hurt you with a rough fuck that way.”

  Her eyes widened. They stared at each other as the seconds ticked by.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m in.”

  His words were crude but sent a thrill through her. A rough fuck. Maybe someday she’d be over her issues enough to experience that. She almost laughed. Not that Logan would be around that long. He’d wise up one of these days. Which was why she should grab onto what he was offering.

  “Good.” He stood from the bed, muscles at play while he stepped into his jeans. “Hate to see you cover that body, but you better put some clothes on before we leave. Though I gotta say, your ass in jeans is even hotter than I’d imagined.”

  Chloe gasped as she glanced down at her body. She was still stark naked. Standing around talking to a man who was also naked like it was no big deal. Without even a hint of nerves or panic.

  Maybe there was hope for her after all.

  CHLOE COULDN’T SIT still. She fidgeted, drummed her nails on the table, tapped her foot, shifted her eyes around the small twenty-four-hour diner. If he didn’t know better, Rocket would think she was overdue for a good fuck.

  “Hey,” he said, reaching across the table and placing his large hand over her jittery one. “You okay?”

  “What?” She gaped at their joined hands. Yeah, he was pushing her. Or at least trying to nudge her along without totally freaking her out. Gave him an excuse for touching her besides the fact that he wanted his hands on her in some way nearly all the damn time.

  “Yeah, of course. I’m great.”

  He gave her hand a squeeze. “You’re nervous.”

  All her movements stopped as though someone flipped a master switch. “Sorry, I’m a little out of practice—”

  “With what? Eating?”

  That had her at least huffing out a half laugh. “No, being around other people. T-touching. I don’t go out very much.” Her face turned an adorable shade of pink. “Well, except for Friday and Saturday nights.”

  “How come?” Would she tell him? Mention she’d had a traumatic experience a few months ago?

  “Oh, um, I’m just a homebody.” Clearing her throat, she wiggled her hand out from under his and dropped it onto her lap. He immediately missed the soft skin under his. “So, uh, what do you do?”

  Rocket leaned his back against the torn vinyl of the booth. “I’m a contractor. I o
wn a construction company in Townsend.”

  Her mouth turned down. “Townsend?”

  “Yep. Something wrong with Townsend?” He took a sip of the watered-down coffee the place kept flowing. Was it his club? Or some other connection to Townsend that had her looking like a scared rabbit once again.

  “Huh? Oh, uh, no.” She rubbed her bare arms below the short sleeves of her shirt as though chilled though the restaurant was pleasantly warm. “Of course not. I’m not over there very often. I hear the town has a pretty high, um, population of criminals.”

  Population of criminals? He almost spit the coffee across the table. She was fucking adorable. “What? You mean the bikers?”

  Her face paled. What was that? Sure, he hadn’t expected she’d welcome any of them with open arms, but her face showed genuine terror.

  “Uh, yeah,” she said. “I guess that’s what I mean.” She was practically whispering.

  Rocket scratched his chin. Was she curious about the man who rescued her? Odd, she seemed almost fearful at the mention of bikers. Was it just the association with that night? Shit, maybe he’d done too good a job of convincing her not to go to the cops and made her afraid of the club. He had to tread carefully here. Seemed as though he had the power to turn her in favor of or fully against his club. “Run into them from time to time,” he said, casual as he could manage. “Had a few work for me over the years.” He shrugged and rested his palms on the table.

  She quickly glanced down at his hands, then back at him.

  “Never had a single problem with any of ’em. They’re not angels,” he said with a slight chuckle. Understatement of the year. “No one would argue with that, but they’re sure not the devils some think they are.” He made sure to give her his full attention, tone serious, in an attempt to convince her his club was no threat to her.

  She snorted. “I’m sure they’re a bunch of teddy bears.”

  Well, that was sarcasm if he’d ever heard it. His eyes narrowed. At what point had she decided his club was the enemy? And why? Not only had they been the ones to rescue her, but Maverick’s woman even visited her at her house after Chloe was released from the hospital. The two had chatted and Stephanie never once reported a seeming hatred of the club.

  “You have a bad experience with one of them?”

  “No.” She answered too quick. “Just not a big fan of people who think the law doesn’t apply to them.”

  It was Rocket’s turn to scoff. “Clearly, you haven’t had much experience with the law dropping the ball more often than not.” The moment the words were out of his mouth, he knew the error of them.

  Chloe had been expressly asked not to cooperate with law enforcement regarding her kidnapping and rape. Was that why she hated the Handlers? Did she feel there was a lack of justice or punishment for her rapists?

  Two of her rapists were already dead, killed by the club when rescuing others, young girls, who’d been kidnapped and sold to the highest bidder. As for Lefty, he’d get what he deserved and more. Maybe once Lefty was no longer breathing Chloe would be able to take a breath.

  And not hate the idea of his club.

  Not that her opinion of the MC should matter. It didn’t matter. This wasn’t a thing. Wasn’t a date or a relationship. It was two wounded souls who fucked and got hungry.

  Simple as that.

  The waitress took that moment to arrive with their pie. Chocolate crème for Chloe and good old-fashioned apple pie for him.

  At the sight of the sweet treats, Chloe’s face lit up. “Oh, man, those look amazing.” She leaned across the table and inhaled deeply. “Do you smell the cinnamon in yours?”

  Hand on her hip, the middle-aged waitress rolled her eyes. “Y’all need anything else?”

  “I’m good,” said Chloe. “So, so, good.”

  Rocket chuckled and picked up his fork. “We’re all set, thanks.”

  “Mm-hmm,” she said as she clacked away on small heels.

  He couldn’t help but notice the way Chloe kept eyeing his pie as she unfolded her napkin across her lap.

  After picking up his fork, Rocket slid it through the pie with ease, gathering a huge mouthful onto the tines. Before lifting it, he dragged it through the mound of vanilla ice cream piled on the plate. He could practically hear the saliva shooting out of Chloe’s glands. “Here,” he said holding up the fork.

  Her eyes were bright and shining. Any unpleasant talk of outlaw bikers forgotten. “For me?” she asked as though he was presenting her with diamonds.

  “Yeah, babe. You’re practically drooling over there.”

  She cocked her head, a flirty smile playing across those tempting lips. Lips he still had yet to kiss even though his mouth had sampled her pussy many times. “Don’t you want the first taste?”

  “Considering it can’t possibly be sweeter than what I’ve already had my mouth on tonight, I’m more than willing to give you the first bite.”

  Her eyes flared with blatant interest, and Rocket had an insane vision of the two of them leaving together and heading to his place. She wouldn’t make it past his foyer before he had her clothes torn off and his dick buried inside her.

  Dangerous thoughts.

  “Well,” she said, licking her lips.

  His cock jumped.

  “If you insist.”

  Transfixed, he watched as her lips closed around his fork, then dragged down the tines until the pie was gone. As she chewed, her eyes rolled heavenward, and she let out a low moan. “Oh. My. God,” she said around the generous bite. “That’s amazing.”

  Goddamn right it was amazing. Rocket’s cock was angrily protesting the confining fit of his jeans. He shifted on the bench seat. Thankfully the table hid his secrets.

  “Want to try mine?” Chloe asked.

  “Fuck yeah,” he said. “I’ll try anything you have to offer me.”

  She giggled, actually giggled, as she held out a much smaller piece of her chocolate pie. The sound was gorgeous coming from her. Happy, carefree, untortured. Just as she should always be.

  Jesus, he was getting fucking sappy.

  “You seem to be shorting me on my taste,” he said as he brushed his fingertips across her wrist. She tensed for just one second before meeting his gaze. Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, holding the fork in place. Chloe stayed loose but wary.

  Progress.

  Of course, they were in public and fully clothed.

  “It’s chocolate,” Chloe said. “I’m no dummy.”

  With a grunt, he licked the pie off the fork then released her hand. After that, they both dove into their respective desserts and conversation flowed light and natural. Rocket couldn’t remember a time he talked so much. With Chloe it just felt right. She asked a question and he answered. She was open, an attentive listener, and never seemed to pass judgment on whatever it was he told her.

  Then again, he was completely lying about who and what he was. So there was that. If she found out he not only knew exactly what happened to her five months ago, but he was the assassin-turned-biker who rescued her, and he’d been practically stalking her since then, there’d be a trail of fire behind her.

  Before he knew it, their pie was gone, and coffee cups drained. Silence fell, thick and heavy as they watched each other across the table. He wanted her, again. Seemed he always wanted her. This couldn’t go on for much longer, but he also couldn’t force himself to walk away. Not yet. Not when she was making strides toward recapturing who she was.

  “Friday?” he asked.

  Chloe tilted her head. Her eyes shifted to the diner’s vacant counter before returning to his. “Logan, I have some issues,” she said in a small voice.

  If he was smart, he’d take that and run with it. Use it as an excuse to walk away from her now, before his club became involved. Once Lefty was dead, he could give her that peace and she’d be able to move on with her life.

  But he was an idiot.

  “We’ve all got fuckin’ issues, Chloe
.”

  Her smile was sad. “Mine are pretty big.”

  “Look,” he said, reaching across the table for her hand. Once again, her attention was drawn to their connection, a small divot appearing between her eyes and matching the slight frown on her lips. But she didn’t pull away. Rocket had to work to keep his smile at bay. Damn, it felt good to slip past her defenses, even an inch at a time. He kept his voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Pretty sure I figured that out already. It’s not exactly every day you meet a woman who wants to tie random men to her bed and fuck them.”

  She dropped her head. “I’m pretty fucked up.”

  “Well that makes two of us then, babe, because I’m having a fuck of a time walking away from you.”

  Lifting her head, she blinked at him. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to do…things, differently than we do them. I’m not sure I’m capable of anything more than what this already is.”

  “Okay. Then it is what it is. Friday?”

  One nod. “Friday.”

  Why did he feel such relief at that one word? “Come an hour early. I’ll order pizza. Maybe if we feed you first, we can keep your stomach from going crazy.”

  She fell silent, those pretty green eyes hiding a whole room full of fear. “O-okay.”

  He gave her hand one last squeeze before releasing her. “Come on.” He stood and dropped a twenty on the table. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  The tense set of her shoulders relaxed at his offer.

  Once outside, he threaded his fingers through hers. As before, she flinched at first but slowly relaxed by degrees into his innocuous touch. The pressure-free caresses and handholds were all part of his master plan. Baby steps. She was like a wounded animal. Humans often reacted similarly to animals following trauma. While overseas in Iraq, one of his Marine brothers found an abandoned dog that had once been severely abused. At first the mutt snarled and snapped whenever they went near. Over time, with treats and soft words, the old boy let him and his team creep closer. It took months, but eventually they were able to pet him, and one of his brothers in arms finagled permission to return the dog to the states.