by K. S. Ellis
'Your dress matches the walls,' he smirks, and my eyes drop to my reflection and then to the pale lavender walls and I grin at him.
'The color growing on you, is it?' I tease him, and his eyes darken with desire.
'Oh,' a slow, wicked grin lights up his face, 'I've been on board with purple since day one.' My eyes meet his and I realize that he's remembering my purple lingerie night set, which now has no matching panties since he ripped them in damn two in his eagerness to be buried inside me. I flush at the memory and his grin widens.
'Yeah,' he breathes, his hands moving up my body until they are cupping my breasts and he turns to bury his face into my neck, nuzzling there as he gently palms my breasts through my dress. While he's distracted, I smirk wickedly at my reflection in the mirror. I made sure that I dressed in the bathroom, while he was getting ready in here, so that when we come back upstairs later tonight, he will be in for a massive surprise. Underneath my prim party dress, I'm wearing white. A full white corset, with a lacy white thong, and a white garter belt attached to my nude thigh high stockings. When he looks up, he catches the end of my wicked look before I quickly banish it, and he growls.
'We don't need to go down just yet,' he nips my ear, his hands moving to my zipper. But I just laugh and bat his hands away, stepping out from his arms, before turning to face him.
'Yes we do, it's my party, and I refuse to be late.' He sighs, and tangles his fingers with my good hand, trailing me out of the room while grumbling something about "stupid Southern manners", which makes me smile.
We get downstairs, and a cheer passes through the crowd. Aric smirks and leads me to the bar, his fingers still tangled with mine, and Tammy-Lynn beams as she pours our drinks, a bourbon for Aric, and a vodka for me. Another cheer goes around, and I can see that strippers have just arrived, and are starting to dance on seated bikers.
'Ah well, it was never going to stay classy for long,' Aric chuckles, smacking my ass and turning to lean against the bar, one arm propped up on it, his eyes taking in the room. I follow his gaze and see a stripper shaking her ass and tits at Killer, but he waves her over to Conrad, with a smirk on his face. When Killer's eyes meet mine, his smirk widens to an actual grin, and he winks and raises his glass to me. Bruiser is over by the pool table, clearly kicking Strafe's butt, if the look on the younger man’s face is anything to go by.
It's a lot busier in here than usual; I didn't realize that there were so many members of the Wild Hawks.
'Las Vegas and Portland chapters,' a voice to my left says and I turn, smiling at Holton as he sips his drink, eyeing the crowd as well.
'We put out feelers to the other chapters, after all this fucking business with Phoenix,' Aric chimes in, his eyes still scanning the crowd like he's looking for any hint of trouble. 'They had no fucking clue, so they've sent some brothers down to help us out. No one likes having a snake in their house.' Holton nods, and then sighs, knocking back his drink in one swallow.
'Hopefully we won't need to cut the entire Arizona chapter loose. We've had a few men come to us from there, once they got wind of what was going down and didn't want to be tarred with the same brush.'
'Are they here?' I ask, my heart in my mouth. Aric drags his eyes away from the crowd and his hand cups around my neck, moving me closer to him.
'Not a chance, angel,' he murmurs into my ear, causing shivers of an entirely different nature to course through me. 'I'm not having them anywhere near you until we're fucking positive that they're on our side. No one will touch you again.' I can hear the anger, and the possessiveness in his tone. A few months ago, hearing a man talk to me, and about me like that, would have seen me running for the hills. Now? I just lean into Aric and breathe in his scent. It’s earthy, mingled with motor oil, and it's the dearest smell in the world to me these days. Aric kisses my head and he and Holton move away, as Conrad leans across the bar next to me, calling to Tammy-Lynn for more whiskey. His hand comes down between my shoulder blades and he pats the spot gently.
'Glad you're back,' he grins, 'we missed having you around here,' I almost miss his words, because he's mumbling, like he doesn't want any of the other bikers around us to hear him. 'Spaghetti bolognese was getting real fucking old,' he drawls, his voice raised slightly as Tammy-Lynn approaches with his drink. Her eyebrows shoot up and she eyes him with an amused gaze.
'That so, boy?' she smirks, but he just thanks her for the drink and turns to face the room again. I see his face light up, and glancing around, my heart sinks into my shoes. Julianna has just walked in, and she's wearing a dress so tight, and short, that it looks like a second skin. Hell, it's even the color of her flesh. Paired with her sky high heels, her dangly earrings, her long, red, talon like trademark nails, and the makeup caked on her face, her whole look just screams FUCK ME. Suddenly, I feel so undesirable in my pretty party dress. Darn it, not even the strippers had managed that so far tonight. I see the look on Conrad's face fall though, as we watch Julianna saunter up to where Aric is seated, dropping onto the sofa beside him, running her talons along his forearm as she leans in, pressing her plumped up breasts against his arm. Just as I'm contemplating leaving the party and heading back upstairs, Aric glances over at me and raises a hand, beckoning me with a single finger. I feel Conrad's hand on my back again, and he propels me forward as we cross the room to where Aric is lounging on the sofa, Julianna seated beside him, squashed up against him like she's his girlfriend or something.
When we come to a halt in front of them, my leaden feet only having carried me this far because Conrad was guiding me, Aric reaches up and grabs my good wrist, tugging me into his lap. He cradles me to his chest, one hand coming beneath my knees, lifting me, almost bridal style, and swinging my legs up so that I'm sitting cross ways against his chest. When he swings my legs, my feet knock into Julianna's legs, and she jumps back, sweet space appearing between her and Aric's side. She can’t really press up against him anymore unless she wants to hump my legs. I notice a small smile tug at the corners of Aric's lips when she scowls and jumps away from him, and I swear that he did that on purpose, to prove a point. Whether he was proving it to me or her, I'm not sure, but I smile sweetly at her, before snaking my arm around his neck and turning my gaze, and my smile, on him.
The hint of a smile on his lips breaks free now, and he leans forward to press his lips to mine. A cheer goes up around us, and as we break apart, I can see Julianna out of the corner of my eye, huffing as she stands up and moves away, which causes a ripple of laughter to go through the crowd as she moves and drops onto Conrad's lap, where he had seated himself in an armchair across from us. She starts making out with him with a passion, and the shocked look on his face quickly turns to excitement as his arms come up to press her to him.
'Looks like Conrad's dreams are finally coming true tonight,' Killer drawls, dropping onto the sofa in the spot just vacated by Julianna. A stripper moves over and starts dancing on him and I look away, embarrassed. Aric laughs and kisses my neck as the stripper finishes up with Killer and, to my absolute mortification, she moves over and starts rubbing her ass against me. I squeal slightly and move my hand to push her away, but Aric laughs against my shoulder and quickly grabs my hand, pulling it down into my lap, before burying his face into my neck again.
'Just let it happen,' he chuckles against my throat. 'She has to dance on the officers, and since you're here...' his voice trails off and I sit there stiffly until she has moved away. I can see Killer is absolutely dying of laughter as he watches my face. When he catches my eye, he winks again before looking away and I feel my mouth drop open as realization strikes. He told her to do that! I'm going to kill him. Or, at the very least, spike his scrambled eggs with enough cayenne pepper to have his eyes bugging out of his head and his ass hole stinging for days.
Chapter 26
ARIC
The party is winding down, Lena is curled up in my lap, and her eyelids are starting to droop. When Bruiser comes over and offers her a glass of vo
dka, she smiles at him and shakes her head, so he shrugs and knocks it back himself, before turning and making a beeline for one of the club groupies near the brand new jukebox.
Tonight has definitely been something of an eye-opener for Lena. Usually, when this place is getting rowdy, she either hides up in our room, or, if she does come down, we leave pretty early and I fuck her senseless and leave her to sleep before coming back down to continue drinking. But tonight, well, she saw some fucking shit. Hell, she saw Julianna fuck Conrad on the chair not four feet from us. And the woman really thought that I would want her for my old lady when that's the way she behaves when she's let loose in the clubhouse. Fucking idiot. Pretty sure Lena got an eyeful of Killer getting blown against one of the pool tables as well. At least, she was looking in that direction and then her head snapped around to face the bar, bright red spots appearing on her cheeks.
There's no need for me to be down here any longer though. Around us the night is descending into debauchery, and no one will miss us. I nuzzle her ear and slide my tongue along it.
'Let's head upstairs,' I murmur, and move to pick her up and take her upstairs, since she's almost asleep on my lap. Surprisingly, she jumps up, all perky and shit, and holds out her good hand to me, a saucy smile on her face.
'I thought you'd never ask,' she murmurs as I take her hand, and then she winks, fucking winks, and I can't follow her fast enough.
Once we're upstairs, she sits me down on the fucking bed again, and I wonder if we're going to have another bath. A slow grin wanders across my face; I wouldn't fucking say no to that. But she bounces around the room, turning off the overhead light and turning on the bedside lamps, while I watch her, amused. Then she kicks off her shoes and comes to stand in front of me, about two feet away, close enough that I can smell her berry scent, but too far away to touch. Her eyes lock with mine, and she reaches behind her back and slowly unzips her dress, her tongue darting out and licking her lips. I freeze in position, the smile dropping off my lips. Holy. Fucking. Shit. She's stripping for me. I'm fucking hard as a rock as she reaches up and slips that sweet little tea dress of hers off her shoulders and pushes it down until it's pooled around her feet. Then she straightens and steps out of it, kicking it aside.
I don't fucking know where to look first. She's a fucking vision in fucking white. Lena in a corset; her nipples peeping through the lace cups containing her tits, a tiny scrap of a white lace thong covering her pussy, and a fucking garter belt holding up thigh high stockings. I'm pretty sure my fucking brain has just fried, and I'm honestly fucking shocked that I haven't just fucking come, right there in my pants.
She slowly saunters towards me, a seductive smile pulling at her lips and I quickly strip, kicking off my boots, tugging off my socks and jeans, and ripping my shirt over my head. Compared to her sexy little striptease, I'm pretty sure I just looked like a fifteen-year-old boy undressing before his first fuck, but I don't fucking care. As she gets closer, I scoot backwards up the bed, and she follows, like a fucking lioness with her prey in her sights. As she crawls forward on the bed on her right hand and her knees, her left arm in its plaster cast trails lightly over the bed. I can't wait anymore and reach out for her, my hands tangling in her hair as I drag her up against me, my mouth finding hers. I nibble her lower lip, before tracing my tongue over it and then plunging it into her mouth. One of my hands slips down her body, trailing over the satin material of the corset before shoving aside the thong strap, and my fingers sink into her wet heat. I moan against her mouth. She's so fucking sexy and so fucking ready for me.
Holding Lena to me, I flip us so that I'm on top, and Lena's legs come up to hug my waist, and she moans into my mouth as my cock replaces my fingers, sinking into her. I push up onto my forearms and look down at her as she lies under me. The moonlight spilling through the window has illuminated her, as she lies there in her fucking sexy corset. She smiles up at me, her eyes hooded and filled with desire as I start thrusting. Finding my rhythm with long, firm strokes, I work her towards her climax, her breath coming out in sexy little pants, until finally she tenses, her pussy walls clenching as she moans my name when she comes.
'Oh, fuck,' I groan, as I come. 'I fucking love you, angel.'
I'm careful to fall away from her plastered arm when I collapse down onto the bed next to her, absolutely spent.
Lena's hair is trailing across the pillows when I wake up and she's fast asleep, sprawled out on top of the cream coverlet, still wearing her lingerie. I roll over, running my hand up her leg, and she moans, her thighs splaying open, allowing my hand better access, even as her eyes remain closed. Hooking my fingers around the straps of her thong, I start to tug them down, and she lifts her waist slightly. I get them down as far as the tops of her stockings before the garter belt clips mean that they can't go any further down her legs. Abandoning the thong there, I run my hands back up her thighs, before lifting her legs and hooking them over my head. Laying on my stomach, her heels resting on the small of my back, I bury my face in her wet heat. She tastes just as fucking sweet as I remember. Her hips start to buck, so I grab them and pin her to the mattress while my tongue works its fucking magic. As her moans turn to pants, I glance up and can see her eyes open, watching me, and she is gripping the pillows beside her head. Smirking into her crotch, I nip at her clit as my tongue circles it and her head starts to toss from side to side, her hips trying to buck harder against my hands as she rides the crest of her orgasm.
Once Lena's hips stop bucking, I lift her legs back over my head and flip her over, moving us on our knees until she's bent over the headboard, her good hand gripping it, her plastered arm resting along the top. Coming up behind her, I thrust into her again, and groan. Her thong is still halfway down her thighs, keeping her legs pressed together, meaning that she's fucking tighter than ever. Gripping the headboard next to her hands, I thrust slowly and deeply, drawing mewls from her as she pants with longing.
'Aric,' she groans, and I grin into her hair, my lips finding the nape of her neck, as she presses back against me, trying to speed things up. So not fucking happening, angel. One of my hands slides down and finds her clit and her mewling kicks up a notch, combining with her panting, and she's almost sobbing with need. Pulling her head back with my spare hand, I kiss her deeply, swallowing her cries as she comes. It only takes about three more thrusts before my release follows.
Chapter 27
LENA
Having an arm in a plaster cast really is the worst. I close my eyes and remind myself, for what feels like the hundredth time that at least it was my left arm, not my right, but it honestly doesn't help. The worst thing is I can't even cook. I really feel like the universe is punishing me because I shouldn't be so happy here. Stupid Phoenix bikers. Stupid Cory. I can't wait until Aric comes back and tells me he's dead. Can't fucking wait.
My eyes alight on Killer playing pool and I practically skip over to him. He watches me approach, his eyes half amused, half wary. He's shaking his head before I even get half my request out.
'No fucking way, princess,' he smirks. But I do my best puppy dog impression and he groans, rubbing a hand across his eyes before cursing and throwing his pool cue onto the table, following me into the kitchen, grumbling something about pussies and slave labor.
He flat out refuses to wear an apron, but he does kindly tie one on me, so that my baby blue dress is protected. I flit around the kitchen, gathering all the necessary ingredients, piling them onto the counter, as he sulks with his arms crossed over his chest. He perks up slightly when I put the bottle of rum on the counter, but the grumbling starts again when I hand him the whisk and point to the mixing bowl.
'I'll put in the flour, baking powder, and salt,' I tell him, 'and then you'll whisk it all together, and then we can beat the eggs and sugar in that bowl,' I gesture towards another mixing bowl and he clenches the whisk in his hand, rolling his eyes, and muttering again.
By the time we're beating the egg whites, his sulky look has d
isappeared, and he hasn't grumbled in about five minutes. If I didn't know any better, I would say that Killer was enjoying himself making rum soaked pound cake. But I'm pretty sure his nickname isn't just for fun, and Aric isn't around to protect me, so I keep my lips buttoned. When the stiff glossy peaks form around his beating, his eyes gleam and he grins happily.
'Fuck yeah,' he whistles, 'fucking glossy peaks.' He looks so proud; I even forget not to giggle at the sight of the tough, tattooed biker called Killer having fun while baking.
'Leaving us to start a bakery, Gray?' a booming laugh interrupts our proud baker's moment, and before I can blink, a whisk has flown across the room and smacked Conrad in the face, falling to the floor with a clang. Conrad's face now has a smear of cake batter running down one of his cheeks.
'Fuck off, cunt,' Killer flips his brother off, as Aric appears in the doorway, leaning against it, watching us with his lips twitching.
'You can both fuck off,' he says evenly, and Killer hands me the mixing bowl before stalking over to his brother, punching him hard enough in the gut that Conrad doubles over, heaving for breath, before Killer disappears through the doorway. Aric shoves Conrad's shoulder, and he also disappears, but I can see that between trying to breathe, he's also trying to control his laughter. I roll my eyes at the two of them, and then smile as Aric lets the door swing shut behind him as he comes to stand beside me at the counter.
'What do you need me to do?' he asks, and I grin at him, fully aware that, unlike Killer, if someone came in and saw him helping me bake, he'd be completely confident in it.
