by Lilly Atlas
He liked it. The prick of pain letting him know how much the pleasure affected her.
Rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he fucked her with his fingers, gently at first, then with increasing speed and purpose. Each time he pulled those long digits back, he stroked over her g-spot. Before long, Chloe was writhing under the sensual assault. He alternated between nipples, pinching, tugging, and twisting until she was a whimpering mess of need.
“Logan,” she whined. He was killing her. One erotic finger pump at a time.
“So fucking beautiful, baby. Ride it out. Take what that sexy body wants.”
She still held his arm. Hell, the poor guy was probably bleeding by now, but she couldn’t release her grip. Even though she knew instinctively he wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t tease her in this moment, her hands acted of their own accord, holding him in place between her legs. The water sloshed as though she were caught in the wake of a speedboat instead of reclining in a small tub only half full.
All of a sudden, his thumb tapped her clit with a heavy but brief pressure. Once, twice, a third time. The lash of pleasure was so intense, she nearly came right there. “Logan,” she screamed out. “Oh my God, I’m so close. Do it again.”
A strained chuckle was the only auditory response, but he complied, driving his fingers deep into her, squeezing her nipple, and pressing her clit all at once.
Chloe’s back bowed and she let out a wail she’d be embarrassed about in a few minutes. Her eyes screwed shut as she rode out the orgasm, wave after wave of delicious pleasure crashing over her. “Holy shit,” she said once she finally slumped in the tub. Thank God Logan was still there. He could save her life—again—if she grew boneless and slipped beneath the surface of the water.
Hadn’t she said something about sore muscles not too long ago? Logan certainly found the cure for that. Man, he could make millions marketing his relaxation technique to top athletes all over the world. Chloe giggled.
“You find my work funny?” Logan asked as he withdrew his fingers from her pussy.
She gasped then groaned at the loss of fullness. “No, not funny at all.” Popping one eye open, she stared, enraptured as he licked his fingers.
“Fuck, the taste of you.”
Their gazes met. Logan gave her a crooked smile that was so sexy she almost jumped out of the tub and tackled him.
It hit her then, the magnitude of what she’d just accomplished. Not the orgasm, though it was certainly stellar, but the fact that she had a man’s hands on her. In her. Bringing her pleasure that led to an orgasm. Plus, she’d closed her eyes. Surrendered not only to the incredible feelings Logan brought her body, but to him.
She trusted him, plain and simple.
And maybe, just maybe she trusted him enough to try even more with him. Another laugh almost escaped. Good thing she wasn’t seeing a therapist at the moment. They’d probably have her committed. Here she was, contemplating the possibility of sleeping with someone she’d already slept with a number of times.
The manner in which they had sex was the question of the hour. Could she trust him enough to have sex without tying him up?
Logan sighed and the smug look disappeared from his face. “Shit,” he said running a hand through his hair. “Wish I could watch you soak all afternoon, but Copper wants to meet with you. It’s the real reason I came looking for you during your workout. He wants to fill you and the rest of the ladies in on what exactly is going on with the lockdown and what the plan is from here.”
And pop. There went the bubble of happiness, burst by the sharp point of reality.
Fuck reality.
Chloe sat forward, shivering as she left the warmth of the water.
Logan rose and vacated the bathroom. Fifteen seconds later, he reappeared with an oversize towel. Well, oversize for her, probably just right for most of the giants in the MC. He reached out to her then hauled her up when she placed her hand in his. Before she’d even stepped out of the tub, she was engulfed in soft terrycloth. “I’m gonna run down and let Cop know you’ll be ready in few. You okay to get dressed and meet us down there?” As he spoke, he rubbed his large hands up and down her towel covered back. Worked wonders for chasing away the post-bath chill.
Chloe nodded. “Am I late?”
“Nah, you’re good. No rush.”
“Okay.”
With that, he gave her one of his infrequent genuine smiles. She filed it under rare and precious in her memory. Right up there with unicorns and fairytales. “Take your time. Copper can wait.” Then, to her complete and utter shock, he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.
She blinked, stunned by the intimate move. It was such a loving gesture; one he’d never come close to doing before.
Wait…holy shit…they’d had sex half a dozen times, he’d made her come twice as many and they’d only kissed that one time in the diner. Their relationship was seriously fucked up.
Long seconds ticked by before she realized she was standing alone in the bathroom, shivering beneath the towel.
Might as well get dressed and head down to see what the head honcho wanted from her. Her stomach twisted. Copper couldn’t be pleased she was hiding out in his clubhouse. She was the girl who was supposed to stay far, far away from his MC. Not land at his doorstep engaged in some kind of complicated relationship with one of his men.
Silently, she worked a pair of black leggings up her slightly damp legs then shrugged into one of Logan’s Hell’s Handlers T-shirts. The thing was too large but smelled of him and gave her the childish impression she was wearing some kind of shield.
Depending on Copper’s mood, she might need it. She was a TV watcher. She knew the president of an outlaw motorcycle club could be ruthless, lethal, and cold as ice.
After sliding her feet into her favorite Toms, she reached for the door only to stop dead in her tracks.
“Oh, my God,” she said aloud. She was a first-rate bitch, worrying only about herself and wondering if the big bad president was going to growl at her.
Rocket was the one who’d been a step away from stalking her for the past few months. There was no way Copper would condone their relationship. What the hell would his punishment be?
Pins under his toenails? Balls in a vice? Cleaning the clubhouse toilets?
She wrinkled her nose and opened the door, stomach twisting and turning around on itself. As much as she feared the wrath of the MC president, she wasn’t about to let Rocket take the blame for her being there. She was going to stand up for her man.
Her man? If by her man, her brain meant the man who pity fucked her, then she guessed he was her man.
Sounded kinda nice.
Her man.
Crap, she was in so much trouble.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE MOMENT CHLOE entered the room, Rocket’s senses popped and fizzled, making him acutely aware of her presence. Not something he’d ever attempt to unpuzzle. He simply accepted that he seemed to have developed Chloe-dar. It wasn’t a tangible or explainable concept. Just a feeling. A tingle arose at the base of his spine and along the back of his neck, alerting him to her presence. Sounded like voodoo shit he’d have busted a gut over should any of his brothers have claimed the same thing with regards to a woman, which meant he’d be keeping his trap shut about it. He glanced at her and had to swallow a groan. Did she have to wear his T-shirt? Now all he could think of was his scent coating her skin, sinking into her pores the way he wanted to sink into her body.
And, big surprise, he was hard again. Touching her in the tub, watching her yield to him, feeling her hungry pussy squeeze the life out of his fingers had been unreal, but he’d been left with a monster of a hard-on that only faded after he remembered Copper’s demand to speak with Chloe and the other ol’ ladies.
The ol’ ladies. Period. Not other ol’ ladies. Chloe wasn’t an ol’ lady. Wouldn’t ever be an ol’ lady.
All eyes in the room shot to her as she slunk in the room, lower lip tucked
between her teeth and hands wringing the T-shirt at her waist.
“Uh, hey,” she said, lifting one hand in a stationary wave. Her red hair, still damp from her bath, was secured high on her head in a long ponytail that fell halfway down her back. She had the best hair. Long, thick, auburn silk. Mark his word, one day he’d wrap that tail around his hand as he plunged into her until she screamed, but not for mercy, never for mercy. Chloe’s screams would only be for more.
“Hi, Chloe! Come on in. We saved you a seat,” Toni said, indicating a vacant chair at the table where she sat with Zach, Maverick, and Stephanie. Steph was perched on Mav’s lap while Toni had arranged her chair next to her ol’ man. Jig and Izzy occupied the next table with Viper and his ol’ lady. Her name was Cassie, but everyone had called her Mamma V for as long as Rocket had known her. A few additional members were scattered throughout the room, waiting on Copper. Church had been held only hours after Esposito dropped in on Rocket, but they’d waited to fill the ol’ ladies in until Chloe felt up to joining.
“Oh, thanks.” Chloe’s gaze shifted to him, uncertainty as to how to act reflected clear as day. Any benefit she’d gotten from the orgasm he’d given her ten minutes ago seemed to have left her, if the tension in her shoulders and stiff walk was any indication. On top of being sore from her balls-to-the-wall workout, she had to be nervous as fuck about this meeting.
Shit, he should have done a better job explaining what they were gathering for. Not a damn thing she had to worry about. Now, because he was a dipshit, she probably assumed she was in for an ass chewing or worse.
Without caring he was laying his cards on the table, he shoved away from the bar, and lumbered toward the empty chair Toni had marked for Chloe. He dropped onto it, ignored Toni’s huff and frown, then pulled Chloe onto his lap the moment she was within reach.
“Oh,” Toni said, blinking like an owl. “Ohhh.” Her face lit, mouth curling into a wicked grin as she winked. “Guess you guys worked things out.” From the other side of the table Stephanie gave Chloe two thumbs up while Maverick made a blow job motion with one hand and his tongue in his cheek.
Rocket froze. Had Chloe not been on his lap, he’d have reached across the table and yanked Maverick up by his scrawny neck. The fucking bastard, cracking crude jokes around a woman who’d been raped. The asshole needed to grow a fucking filter.
But of course, Chloe snickered. Why did everyone find Maverick so fucking funny, females especially? Any other man would get a slap to the face or slammed with a sexual harassment suit. Mav got giggles and dropped panties. Damn tatted asshole.
Worst part of it was he wasn’t so much as a bit remorseful. He sent Rocket a smug grin and threw in an eyebrow waggle for good measure.
“Watch your back,” Rocket said in warning.
Stephanie’s eyes widened, but Mav just mock shivered. “Ooh, I’m so scared.”
Rocket didn’t get the chance to reach across the table and knock his brother upside the head because Copper chose that moment to limp into the room—minus his crutches—holding Shell’s hand. He lifted her—against doctor’s orders—setting her on the bar, then stood next to her, one arm around her back. It had taken Copper years to finally admit his feelings for the much younger Shell, but now that he had, the two practically needed a surgeon to separate them. “All right, we waiting on anyone else?” Copper asked in his customary Irish brogue.
“Nope,” Mav said. “All present and accounted for, prez.”
Copper nodded. “Thanks for coming. Know all you ladies have been real patient the last few days. Think I’ve only been hounded for answers maybe a hundred or so times. And that doesn’t count Izzy’s constant threatening text messages demanding to know why the hell she couldn’t open her shop.”
A handful of the men snickered. At least Stephanie, Toni, and even Shell had the good sense to look sheepish. Izzy couldn’t have given less of a shit. She just shrugged and said, “If you’d just told me what the fuck was going on, I wouldn’t have texted so much.”
Jig shook his head, doing a shitty job of hiding his smirk as he cupped the back of his woman’s neck. It was a possessive move that would have earned any other man a trip to the emergency room, but, wonder of wonders, Izzy often deferred to Jig when around the club.
The rest of the room erupted in laughter with a few comments about Izzy being a ball buster thrown in for good measure.
“All right settle down. Gotta get serious for a few minutes here,” Copper said as the crowd grew quiet. “We got a credible threat we had to look into. I wanted to fill you all in because I realize I can’t keep you locked up here forever. It’s been a few days and the guy we were worried about has been spotted leaving town on a private jet. That means you’re all free to go about your business.”
The women immediately began chattering about how relieved they were to be released from “MC prison.” Chloe remained quiet but had relaxed against Rocket as Copper spoke. Unfortunately, Rocket had a feeling her languid state wouldn’t last.
“Hey, I ain’t finished,” Copper said, clapping his meaty hands to get everyone to focus back on him. Shell rolled her eyes and patted his arm.
Rocket tensed. There was nothing he hated more than being the center of attention and here it fucking came.
Shifting on his lap, Chloe peered down at him. “You okay?” she asked low enough he was the only one who heard. “You just got all stiff.” Her cheeks pinked. “And not in that way.”
Leave it to her to get some sort of laugh out of him when he wanted to tear the room apart. “I’m good, babe. No worries.” He gave her a gentle squeeze as he spoke.
Her eyes narrowed and one auburn eyebrow arched. Yeah, she didn’t believe that.
“Okay,” Copper said. “Try to keep your yaps shut until I’m done, yeah?”
Izzy snorted and Copper sent her a death glare. Of course, the woman didn’t so much as bat an eyelash.
“You all know Rocket is a former Marine. After he left, he was recruited by DarkOps.”
Now it was Chloe’s turn to go rigid. Fuck. Looked like the cat was out of the damn bag now. Too bad he couldn’t have killed the furry beast. His life prior to the MC wasn’t a secret, per se, of course ninety percent of the missions were classified to the nth degree, but the fact that he worked for DarkOps wasn’t. However, he fucking hated the reaction when people found out who he worked for. So he kept that shit to himself. Until today.
“I said, shut your fuckin’ yaps,” Copper bellowed, and the few whispered murmurs ceased immediately. Unfortunately, that meant it was pin-drop quiet as everyone in the room stared at Rocket with open curiosity.
Nosy motherfuckers.
Rocket trained his gaze on Copper. The goal was to keep himself from noticing the way his brothers gawked at him. Didn’t work. He could feel each and every one of their stares like hot pokers against his skin. Hear each and every one of the questions hurling silently through the air.
Chloe rested her hand on the top of his where it lay on her thigh. She linked their fingers and gave a comforting squeeze, not letting up the pressure as Copper began talking again.
“I ain’t gonna get into details about what he did there, that’s Rocket’s private fucking business, but I’m sure you can figure out the gist of it.” Copper sent an apologetic look Rocket’s way.
He got it. The prez had no choice. Esposito could approach any one of his brothers or their ol’ laides. They had to know who he was and what he was to remain vigilant and safe. In his typical manipulative style, Esposito was likely to approach and scare the fuck out of one of the women with a blackmail scheme. He’d dig up something they’d rather remained buried and threaten to out them if Rocket didn’t complete the mission. Everyone in the room had at least one dancing skeleton in their closet. Sure, he’d left town, but who the hell knew when he’d be back and the clubhouse couldn’t stay on lockdown forever.
Rocket would peel the skin off Esposito’s breathing body before he let the fucktard any
where near Chloe.
So, while he understood why Copper had to air his dirty laundry all over the damn clubhouse, he hated the fuck out of it.
“Bottom line, folks, Rocket walked when shit started seeming hinky. Again, I ain’t getting into details. They’re his to share if he wants, and I think it’s been made pretty clear he’s not interested. Anyway, they want him back, and aren’t above playing dirty to get him.” He lifted a photograph from the bar. “Want you all to keep your eyes peeled for this fucker. Tracking?”
Murmurs of assent could be heard around the room. “Pass this around for me, babe,” he said, handing the photo to Shell. She hopped off the bar and dropped the photograph on Izzy and Jig’s table.
Izzy lifted with photo with a snort. “I could take this guy with one hand tied behind my back. Even knocked up.” She rubbed her belly as everyone laughed. The brief tension relief was greatly appreciated.
Too bad Rocket had to ramp the seriousness back up. “He’s not someone to mess with,” he said, breaking his silence for the first time. All heads swiveled in his direction. There were about a million things he’d rather be doing than sitting under the nosey stare of the majority of the club, including pulling out his own toenails. “Might not look like much, but he’s a lethal bastard. And I mean bastard. He’s not above snatching one of you ladies and blackmailing you to get to me. He runs DarkOps so he’s got the best hackers and contacts backing him. Trust me when I say by now he knows every damn secret you keep.”
His stomach cramped as the look on Toni’s face turned to one of discomfort. Zach’s ol’ lady would be a perfect target for Esposito. She had shit in her past she’d much rather leave there. Things that would be devastating should they find their way onto social media. Zach circled his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a quick kiss to her temple. After pulling back, he whispered something that had her nodding and her shoulders losing some of their starch.
