by Harley Stone
However, last time I spoke to him, Link told me he was recruiting a younger crowd since several of the old-timers planned to retire when Dad stepped down. That idea had potential. Maybe I should have asked Link to send me pictures, so I could see if any of them looked like a good time. I’m sure that would have been a fun conversation. My overly-protective big brother would probably be locking me up in a chastity belt the second I walked through the door.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Monica asked, a smile stretching across her face. “My girl’s gonna get laid and chill the fuck out. I’m so excited for you. For all of us really, because bitch, I’ma have to kill you if you don’t.”
“Fine. Only one question. What’s this ‘morsel’ shit you’re talking about? If I’m going to get laid, I don’t want a bite, I want the whole damn salami.”
She squealed, holding her fist up for me to bump with my own. “That’s what I’m talking about. Damn, girl, take good notes because you know I’m gonna want all the freaky details.”
***
After a three-hour drive and a four-hour flight, I landed in Seattle. As soon as the wheels hit the ground, I texted Link to let him know I’d arrived. He returned my text immediately, letting me know that a prospect by the name of Eagle would be picking me up. Mildly irritated that my hotshot brother couldn’t take a few minutes to pick me up himself, I thought back to Monica’s advice. Prospects were new. Younger than Dad’s crowd. Maybe this was the universe’s way of confirming Monica’s assessment of my body’s needs. Determined to relax and channel my sexually precocious bestie, I shouldered my backpack and hurried off the plane and out to the pickup area to check out my ride.
The sky was overcast, but it was still a warm June day. My gaze scanned the area, landing on a charcoal Street Glide in front of the Alaska sign, just like Link had said it would be. The rider was tall with long dark hair pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck, just below his helmet. Like all the men from the club, he wore jeans, boots, and his cut over a short-sleeved T-shirt that revealed well-defined, tatted-up arms. His body, and the bike he sat astride, looked well-built, but his face was hidden behind a dark helmet complete with a face mask and shield.
As I approached him, I wondered what Monica would do in this situation. Socializing wasn’t exactly one of my strengths. “Eagle?” I asked.
He flicked the shield up, revealing furrowed brows and sexy, mysterious eyes almost as dark as his helmet. “Naomi?” His gaze flickered over me, and his eyes widened. Instantly, I forgave Link for sending him.
Hefting my backpack strap up on my shoulder, I nodded.
He held a second helmet out to me. “Hop on.”
I eyed the helmet and the seat behind him, trying to decide how I wanted to play this. It had been a long time since I’d flirted, and I’d never been very good at it to begin with. So, I decided to be myself and flick him shit like I’d always done to the prospects. “Sorry, hotshot, but I don’t ride bitch to anyone.”
Something mischievous ignited in Eagle’s eyes. He unclipped his face mask, letting it dangle so I could see the bottom half of his face. I sucked in a breath and tried not to ogle him, but damn, he was hot. Really hot. His beard was thick and full, pairing nicely with his mustache and kissable lips.
“Explains why your brother didn’t pick you up,” he fired back.
Had himself a sense of humor, did he? Pleasantly surprised, I returned his smile. “You catch on quickly, prospect. Link’s a hotshot, too, and if I don’t keep him humble, who will?”
“Not my problem, but I have a job to do. What’s it gonna take to get your ass on this bike so I can take you back to the fire station? Think you got the balls to drive?”
His eyes held the type of challenge I’d be loathe to decline. This was going to be fun.
“You can keep your balls. Those hairy little sacs never did much for me. I could drive the shit out of your sled, though.” I didn’t want to drive. Sure, I was a strong, independent woman, but I liked my men even stronger. Eagle sure was nice to look at, but I couldn’t resist pushing him to see what he was made of. “How about you ride bitch and I’ll show you how it’s done?”
He snorted. “You must have made off with someone’s sac to be talking all that bullshit. Trust me, babe, I know how it’s done, and I don’t ride bitch to anyone, either.”
“Babe?” I scoffed. “Kind of unoriginal, don’t you think? Surely you can do better than that.”
His eyes laughed at me. “Okay, sweetheart, get your sexy ass on this goddamn bike and let me do my job.”
“Sweetheart? Now you’re just being ridiculous.” And demanding. It should have pissed me off, but Eagle’s masculinity was enticing, and I leaned into it wanting more. Would he be this large and in charge in the bedroom? The thought made me squeeze my thighs together and want to give in so I could wrap my arms around him and see if his body felt as good as it looked. “Although…” My gaze drifted to the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. Talons were perched on a globe with an anchor behind it. “You served in the Marines?”
He gave me a nod. “Yes ma’am.”
Of course he’d been a Marine. I should have known by the way his proximity made me practically swoon. Lots of servicemen were good looking, but there was something about a big, strong, domineering Marine that made me want to spread my legs and throw feminism to the wind. I’d lost my virginity to a Marine, and everything about Eagle made me remember why.
“Respectable. I suppose I can ride bitch to a Marine,” I said, accepting the spare helmet as I threw my leg over the saddle. Once my borrowed helmet was on, I adjusted myself against him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and waited as he fixed his helmet and kicked his sled to life.
There’s nothing in the world like the vibration of a powerful bike, especially when you’re already turned on and pressed against a wall of muscle. The hog thrummed beneath me and set all my lady parts to tingling. Eagle’s abs tightened beneath my hands as he leaned with the bike and pulled into traffic. Splaying my fingers across his stomach, I breathed in the leather scent of his cut and wondered again what Monica would do in this situation.
Did I make the first move? Should I reach my hand down the front of his pants when he stopped for a light? No, that’d be too forward, right? I had no idea, but as we hopped on the freeway and drove toward the fire station, I did know one thing.
I had every intention of getting this sexy, bossy Marine into my bed.
Challenge accepted, Monie-Love. My freak flag’s about to fly.
Eagle
I’D HEARD RUMORS about Link’s gorgeous and completely off-limits sister, but none of them did the woman justice. She was tall, about five-ten, and muscular but curvy. Wearing distressed black jeans, boots, and a tight Harley-emblemed tank top, her long blonde hair was straight and her makeup light. With a tasteful sleeve of tattoos down her left arm, she looked like a goddamn biker’s wet dream come to life. People watched as she walked by, but she didn’t pay them any attention. She homed in on me and approached without an ounce of hesitation.
This was a woman who got shit done. It was obvious she was used to being listened to and respected. I’d heard she was in the Air Force, and could tell she was an officer. Regardless of her rank, when she put her hand on her hip and tried to tell me she wouldn’t be riding bitch, it took all of my restraint not to hop off my bike, throw her over my shoulder, and smack her ass.
Officer or not, nobody drove my bike but me.
Still, I appreciated a woman who could hold her own. I’ve been told I can be intimidating and intense, but she held my gaze as she stared me down, testing and watching my reaction. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be this unruly and defiant between my sheets. She’d probably want control and have to be tied down. Maybe she’d even fight me a little. That could be fun.
Just thinking about it made my jeans uncomfortable. I adjusted my growing erection, and her gaze followed my hand. She was interested, for
sure.
Too bad she was Link’s sister.
Before he’d sent me to pick her up, the club’s incoming president made it a point to tell me to keep my hands off Naomi. Apparently, no one had given her such instructions. When she finally relented and climbed on the bike behind me, she pressed her big round tits against my back and her hands fanned out over my abs. She held me tighter than necessary, and her clean, sweet scent invaded my helmet before I snapped down the visor and clipped the face mask in place.
I’d unwittingly trapped that intoxicating scent in with me.
Her hands drifted down my stomach, and I took off faster than I meant to. Naomi squeezed closer in response, making it damn hard to concentrate on the road. The fire station was thirteen miles from the airport, and in traffic, it took almost an hour. An hour with her curvy body pressed against me, her hands roaming over my stomach, sometimes dipping down to the waistband of my jeans. A little further south, and she would have felt how hard she was making me. By the time we reached the fire station, I was desperately in need of another adjustment and a cold shower.
Without waiting for my help, Naomi kicked her leg over the seat and plucked off her helmet. Her hair was wind-tousled, her big brown eyes were bright, and her cheeks were rosy, giving her a just-fucked look that made me keep my hands on the handlebars, so I wouldn’t reach out and pull her onto my lap. Judging by the devious smirk she gave me, she knew exactly how she affected me. No doubt she did it on purpose. I couldn’t tell if she was just fucking with me, or genuinely interested.
“Thanks for the ride, Marine,” she purred, handing me back her borrowed helmet. “While I’m in town, you should let me buy you a drink for your trouble.”
If Naomi and I drank together, there really would be trouble. But, since telling her that would make me sound like a pussy, I gave her a non-committal nod and dismounted. “How long will you be here?” I shouldn’t have asked, shouldn’t have cared, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
“I leave Monday.”
Since it was Thursday evening, that meant I needed to avoid the fire station through the weekend. Easier said than done since Link’s inauguration would be Friday at noon. There’d be no avoiding this woman, and as tempting as her body was, I hoped to hell she found a more interesting toy to play with and left me the hell alone.
I walked her into the station. A few prospects, and ol’ ladies were hanging out in the common area, preparing for tomorrow’s festivities. The ol’ ladies stopped what they were doing and hurried over to greet Naomi. Jake and his ol’ lady, Margo, stepped out of the kitchen, saw what was going on and joined us.
“There’s my slugger,” Jake said, releasing Margo’s hand to hug his daughter.
“Slugger?” I asked, surprised by the nickname. My dad had called my sister princess or sweetheart. Slugger seemed like an odd term of endearment for a girl.
Jake grinned, pulling back to frame her face with his hands like she was still a child. “Yep. Her first year of T-ball, one of the boys on her team told her she hit like a girl. Naomi here marched straight home and bullied her brother until he taught her how to crack the ball. First game of the season she put one right between the third baseman’s eyes.”
“Dad,” Naomi said, her tone chastising. “Always with that story. It wouldn’t have been between the third baseman’s eyes if he would have just held up his glove. And I didn’t bully Link, I encouraged him to help me. Persuasively.”
“Blackmailed is more like it,” Link said, joining us. He slid an arm around his sister and squeezed her to his side to kiss her forehead. “Hey squirt.”
She rolled her eyes. “Slugger, Squirt… You guys give the worst nicknames ever.”
Jake elbowed me in the side. “It’s an important tale. That’s when she first started showing up the boys.” Pride beamed in his eyes as he kissed her cheek. “She hasn’t stopped since.”
“Stop talking about her like she’s not standing right there,” Margo chided, pushing Jake out of the way so she could hug his daughter. “You know she hates that. Welcome home, Naomi. Your dad has ribs on the smoker and I whipped up some of my homemade mac-n-cheese. I hope you’re hungry.”
I’d gotten to know Jake and Margo over the past two months, and as far as I could tell, they were the salt of the earth, reliable, trustworthy, good people out to make a real difference. Still newlyweds, the only time I saw Jake without his bride was during church, our weekly club meetings. He was stepping down from his presidency to spend more time with her. Maybe even travel some. Jake had done his time, both with the club and in the service, and suffered more than his share of losses. I was happy to be a part of the new guard coming on, so he could rest and enjoy his retirement.
“Starved,” Naomi replied. “I was hoping you’d be cooking, so I didn’t eat yet. Didn’t want to spoil my appetite.”
“Oh, you sweet girl,” Margo gushed. “It’ll be nice to have you here. There’s far too much testosterone around this place.”
“What?” Link asked, throwing his hands up like he was offended. “You sayin’ I’m not sweet, Margo?”
“That is exactly what I’m saying.” Turning to me, she said, “Thank you for picking Naomi up so we could finish cooking. Please, join us for dinner.”
Naomi watched me, looking a little too interested in my response for my comfort. I didn’t want to be rude and reject Margo’s invitation, especially not when she was always so nice to me, but I also didn’t want to fall prey to temptation. The less time I spent with Link’s forbidden sister, the better. “Thank you for the offer, but tomorrow’s a busy day. I’m sure Link has something else for me to do.” I looked to my incoming president, hoping he would throw me a task that would get me the hell out of here.
Link shook his head. “I’m good, brother. Join us. In fact, all the prospects and ol’ ladies helping out should. Here, Nae, let me introduce you to the others. This here’s Havoc. He was my weapons specialist.”
Naomi extended her hand toward the big black prospect who served with Link. He ignored her hand and pulled her in for a hug. “Any sister of Link’s is family,” Havoc said.
I knew the gesture was meant as friendly and nothing more, but it still set me on edge. I recognized the emotion for what it was—jealousy—but it shocked me. I’d never been a jealous man. Not even with Genie. If I could go back in time, I’m sure things would be different now. I’d covet every minute she spent away from me, knowing our time was limited. But, for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why I’d be jealous of Havoc’s arms around a woman I intended to avoid.
After the rest of the introductions were made, we all headed into the dining room to eat. Naomi sat toward the middle of the table with her dad and brother on either side of her. Havoc took a seat directly across from her, irritating the hell out of me. Frustrated and confused by the way I wanted to block her from him, I sat clear at the end, as far away from them as possible.
“So, Naomi,” Wasp said, sitting beside Havoc. “Link said you’re in the Air Force. How do you like it?”
“I love it. Most of the time. Okay, I love doing my job and going out on CSARs, but I hate the political bullshit.”
“CSARs?” I asked, recognizing the acronym for combat search and rescues. “Are you on a flight crew?” I didn’t mean to ask, didn’t want to appear interested, but the question had just flown out. I wasn’t usually chatty, but something about her made my tongue wag.
“She’s a helo pilot,” Jake beamed, heaping mac-n-cheese onto his plate. “The only female helo pilot in her squad.”
“You’re a Pedro?” Havoc asked, chewing on a rib. He wiped his mouth before adding, “Damn, girl, get it.”
His voice held respect, and I could understand why. Pedro was the call sign for Air Force helicopter pilots, specifically those who did CSAR missions. Pedros were uncommon. Last I’d heard, the Air Force only had about a hundred helicopters compared to the thousands owned by the Army. Getting an Air Force helo slot meant you wer
e the best of the best. Naomi Lincoln had to be made of some pretty tough shit to make her way into such a competitive job.
“I tried to tell her to go Army,” Link said.
“Yeah, you were super helpful,” Naomi droned. “What was that great advice you gave me?”
Link grinned. “If you want to fly choppers, go Army. If you want to fly jets, go Navy. If you want to fly the fuckin’ space shuttle, go Air Force. If you want to blow shit up, go Marines. If you can’t swim, go Coast Guard. And that’s some damn good advice, thank you very much.”
It was customary for different branches of the military to flick shit at each other, and since the club didn’t currently have any Coast Guard vets, the Coast Guard usually got the brunt of our jokes.
“Damn good advice,” Jake agreed. “But I still wish you wouldn’t have gone after such a dangerous job, slugger. You’d think after growing up around a bunch of fucked up old soldiers, you’d want more from life.”
She smiled at him. “Dad, I grew up around the best men on the planet. Why wouldn’t I want to follow in their shoes?”
He shook his head at her, but his eyes were full of pride.
“What made you choose the Air Force?” Havoc asked.
“Better pay and conditions than most of the branches. Smarter people. I’m not savage enough for the Army.” Naomi elbowed her brother.
“She likes doing the shit people say is impossible,” Link added.
She directed a pointed look at her brother and father. “Wonder where I get that from, hmm?”
Link threw his hands in the air before not-so-discretely pointing at their dad, who denied everything. Even when Margo called him a bald-faced liar.
“What about you, Eagle?” Naomi asked, surprising me as she dismissed the brothers in front of her and angled her body to face me. “What did you do in the Marines?”
