Smoke (Archer's Creek Book 5)

by Gemma Weir

  “Who?”

  “Smoke of course.”

  “No. God no,” I cry, the words coming too quick to be convincing.

  “Well good, because then you have no excuse not to come to the club this weekend. There are parties all weekend because one of the other chapters is in town. Park will come pick you up from your office tomorrow night, bring an overnight bag.”

  “Rosie, no,” I say.

  “Okay that’s settled. See you tomorrow, love you, bye,” she says quickly, before hanging up, leaving me staring at my cell, my mouth open in shock.

  Once the shock has faded, I quickly type out a text.

  Me: That was not cool.

  She replies immediately.

  Rosie: Neither is ignoring me for days. See you tomorrow.

  Me: No.

  I wait for her to reply, but she doesn’t.

  Me: Rosie, I’m not coming tomorrow.

  Me: I’m serious.

  Me: Rosie!

  I stare at my cell waiting to see the three dots that say she’s replying, but they never come. Shaking my head, I laugh a little at how well she’s played me. She knows I’ll have a bag and be waiting for Park tomorrow and I have a horrible feeling that as much as I don’t want to, I’ll be seeing Justin tomorrow too.

  When six thirty pm rolls around, I close down my laptop, slide all my stuff into my purse and grab the small overnight bag I’ve had beneath my desk all day. I glance in the direction of Dan’s office and exhale a sigh of relief that I haven’t had to tell him I can’t join him for dinner again.

  In a weak moment, I’d accepted his invitation to join him once this week, then felt awful when he’d tried to kiss me at the end of the night and I’d had to turn my face at the last moment so his lips hit my cheek instead of my lips. He’d been incredibly gracious in my rejection, but I’m still feeling really uncomfortable about it all.

  When I exit the building, I spot the huge black truck and make my way toward it, expecting to see Park behind the wheel. When I see Justin, I freeze, looking over my shoulder to see where I can run to.

  The window rolls down and he shouts, “Get in the goddamn truck.”

  Pulling in a deep breath, I weigh up my options: run back into my office and take the chance that he might chase after me, try to hail a cab and get away from him that way, or pull up my big girl panties and get in the truck and go see my friend.

  I wish I could say that I immediately chose the third option, but honestly I stepped to the curb and had my hand halfway into the air to call a cab, just as Justin circled the truck and stood in front of me, his arms crossed across his huge chest and his gorgeous full lips twisted into a scowl.

  “Riley, you gonna get in the truck on your own, or am I throwing you over my shoulder and chucking you in there?”

  Closing my eyes, I inhale, trying to ignore the way my body has heated just from him being here. The way my skin is tingling with the desire to touch him and how my pussy is hot and aching wanting to rub against him, to feel him do the things he does to me in my dreams.

  “Fine,” I say, my voice small as I walk away from him and climb up into the cab.

  Justin follows behind me, not touching me but close enough that I can feel his presence, and my body flushes with excitement.

  You don’t want him. You don’t want to kiss him. You don’t want to feel his body over yours. I repeat the silent mantra over and over as we drive through the Houston streets, until we finally break free of the city and exit onto the busy highway that will eventually change to country roads the closer we get to the small town of Archer’s Creek.

  I don’t look at him, but I can feel his eyes on me and my nipples pebble in response. The light is beginning to fade, but I can still see the faint bruise on his jaw that I think must be from where I hit him last weekend. I should probably apologize, because being an idiot is not a good enough reason to be violent toward him.

  This close to him I can smell his fresh, clean scent and I want to lean into him and inhale deeply. I don’t want to want him, but I don’t seem to be able to help it. The silence in the truck is palpable, the air between us filled with a heady mix of sexual tension, desire, annoyance, and frustration. As it swirls around me, I try not to audibly swallow, a groan rising in my throat.

  I hear him exhale, the noise feral and primal just before he swings a left, driving us off the main road and down a tiny country lane. Without thought, I turn and look at him, finding his eyes on mine, his chest heaving up and down as he pulls in ragged breaths.

  “If you don’t want this to happen, you need to say now, because I’m fucking struggling.” He says, his voice barely a harsh rasp.

  I want to tell him to take me to the club, to get back onto the road and ignore this tension that’s only building with each pained breath I take, but I can’t. All of the depraved dreams that have filled my nights suddenly surge into my mind, flashing images of our naked bodies, sweating as he fucks me until we’re nothing but moans, screams, and pleasure.

  “Riley,” he says, and my name is a demand. He wants me to tell him to stop, but I can’t. I want this and I’m moving toward him, unclipping my seatbelt and sliding across the bench. As our lips smash into each other, a feral need takes over and his fingers tug at my clothes as I fight to pull his shirt over his head so I can touch his huge chest beneath. My fingers are at his jeans, fumbling with his button, then shoving his pants down his legs and freeing his cock. Gracelessly, he shoves my skirt up around my waist and rips the fabric of my panties in two, exposing my pussy to his eager fingers.

  I gasp as he slides two fingers into me, and I feel his sharp intake of breath when my hand wraps around his dick. Our movements are angry and frantic, as our lips push against one another, our tongues fighting, my free hand in his hair, pulling and tugging.

  He pumps his fingers into me, his thumb circling my clit relentlessly, pushing me toward my orgasm. As he works my pussy, I slide my fist up and down his hard dick, feeling the pre-cum on my fingers, only pausing when he makes me come, my back arching, my entire body convulsing. I hear the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open and he pushes my hand out of the way so he can slide it over his cock.

  He lifts me from the seat, placing me back down into his lap, my legs straddling him. I reach down and guide his cock into my sex, gasping as he stretches me. I force my body to accept him, my lips parted. He’s too big, but I’m too far gone to care about the pain. We both watch as his cock disappears inside of me, then he takes over. He grasps my hips, lifting me off him then guiding me back down, my pussy fighting the intrusion with every thrust. Lifting me completely off him, he lays me down onto the bench seat, roughly spreads my thighs and buries his face into my sex.

  His tongue licks and sucks at me and I cry out, squirming, pushing into his tongue as he thrusts into me. On the verge of a second orgasm, he stops then lifts me up again, placing me over him. “Slowly. I want to watch your cunt swallow my dick.” He orders.

  This time as I lower myself onto him there’s no pain, only pleasure, as he fills me completely. “That’s it, beautiful. Fuck, that feels so fucking good. Your cunt was made for my dick, so tight.” His words are barely a whisper, but I can hear them where his lips are pressed against my ear as he watches himself fill me.

  When my butt is settled against his lap, I let my head fall forward into his shoulder. The sensation of fullness is so fucking amazing I can barely wait.

  “You ready?”

  I nod against his skin and his hands tighten around me. Lifting up, I roll my hips before sinking back down onto him. The pace is slow, his cock dragging across every single nerve-ending before hitting that spot that makes me see stars. Again and again, I slide up and down his dick, our lips pressed against one another as I push us both toward a mind-blowing orgasm.

  When the teasing becomes too much, Justin takes control, lifting me up and slamming me down on his cock until seconds later I scream. My orgasm shatters, leaving me convulsing with
pleasure; my internal muscles clamping down, milking his cock and taking every ounce of pleasure he can give me. Justin follows me over the edge, his groan coming only moments after mine as his body tenses and his dick twitches deep inside of me.

  Neither of us speaks as we wait for the aftershocks to subside. We don’t say a word as I climb off his lap and back into my seat. We’re both silent as I smooth down my skirt and Justin pulls off the condom and lifts up his pants.

  The quiet becomes tangible, an impenetrable force that we’ve both created, yet neither of us can diffuse. Lost in the silence, he starts the truck’s engine and pulls back onto the road. When he slows to a stop outside the courtyard that hides Park and Rosie’s apartment, I look at him and I can see the desperation to speak in his eyes. I know that the same look is reflected back in mine, but I remain dumb, climb out of the truck, and don’t utter a sound when he drives away.

  Less than two hundred yards from where I just left Riley, I pull to the side of the road and punch the truck’s steering wheel over and over again. “Fucking, stupid, motherfucking idiot,” I shout at myself, as I take all of my frustrations out on the truck, hitting it until my knuckles are raw and bloody and I slump back into the seat, my head falling back against the headrest.

  I have no idea what the fuck just happened. I had the best sex of my life. The best angry, quick dirty sex at least. Then she just climbed out of the car without a word and I drove away. Fucking idiot. I’m a fucking idiot.

  When I pulled over, it wasn’t to fuck her. It was to talk, to hash out whatever this thing is that’s driving me absolutely crazy and fucking with my head. Then the next thing I know she’s in my lap and her cunt is sliding down my dick.

  Shit, the feeling of being inside of her was perfection, just perfection, and now she’s gone and I didn’t say a fucking word.

  I know how to deal with women; they love me, they all do, yet Riley seems to be completely immune to my charms. She isn’t impressed by how I look, my usual moves have no effect on her, and I have no idea what to do.

  How is it possible that she doesn’t give a crap about me and yet I’m completely captivated by her? Despite the way she looks at me and the way she acts, she must be attracted to me in some way. She launched herself at me, pulling at my shirt and grabbing for my cock the moment I pushed my pants out of the way. She wanted me as much as I wanted her. But then the moment it was done, it’s like she flipped back to being completely disinterested.

  Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman who could fuck like we just did and then be completely silent, like not even say a word. I ripped her fucking panties in two and she just pushed down her skirt and never said a fucking thing.

  How did I become the girl in this? How did I become the one that wants to talk and cuddle after a bout of amazing sex? I haven’t cuddled a woman ever, then one quick bang in a truck on the side of the road and I’m pouting that she didn’t spoon with me after.

  Holy fucking shit, I’m needy. I’m a needy fucking pussy.

  I don’t know how long I sit in the truck, blood dripping from my knuckles as I curse myself and call myself a hundred different kinds of idiot. My cell rings and I grab it from the cup holder in the dash and look at the caller I.D. It’s Park.

  Sighing, I answer. “Brother.”

  “What happened?” he asks, his voice low.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, not willing to tell him how much of an idiot I am if I don’t have to.

  “Riley is here. She looks and smells freshly fucked, but she’s pretending nothing’s wrong. So I ask again, what the fuck happened?”

  Sighing weakly, I pull at my hair with my fingers. “You know what happened,” I eventually say.

  “You fucked her, then just dropped her off at the door? Dick move, bro,” Park says.

  “Not my choice, brother. Not my choice. I pulled over to talk to her and then the next thing I know we’re fucking and then nothing, just silence. Then she got out and I drove off,” I admit.

  “What the fuck is going on with you pair? I had no idea you were even interested in each other. You’ve gone from nothing to kissing, to her punching you, and now you’re fucking and ignoring each other. The two of you are giving me whiplash.”

  “You’re not the only one,” I agree.

  “So talk to her.”

  “Yeah.” I say, knowing that he’s right.

  “Okay?”

  “Okay, bye,” I say and end the call, lowering my cell to my lap and staring at the mess I’ve made of my knuckles.

  Park is right. I need to talk to her. I like this girl. I want her, and I just need to tell her that. Because at the end of the day women love me and Riley won’t be the exception to that rule.

  With a renewed sense of purpose, I pull away from the curb and head back to my apartment. After a shower to wash the blood from my hands and the smell of sex from my body, I get dressed and head back out on my bike to the club and hopefully to round two with Riley.

  The cool night breeze is balm for my soul and by the time I pull into the Sinners compound I feel refreshed and centered. All the therapy and meds in the world are nowhere near as effective as the wind in your face and freedom in your blood. My bike is my life blood. It keeps me sane, and after everything that’s happened with Riley today, I needed this reprieve.

  After parking in the barn, I climb off and make my way toward the clubhouse. The lot is packed with bikes and cars and people are spilling from the already packed building; the bass of the music shattering the peace of the evening.

  Walking into the room, I’m assaulted with the smell of hedonism. Tonight is biker life at its best: brothers, bitches, and beer. When other chapters come to visit, we always like to pull out all the stops, and when I spot the pole setup to the side of the room and a completely naked Shannon hanging from it, her legs spread wide and her pussy on display, I can’t help but smile.

  Blow jobs, sex, oral, gangbangs, nothing is taboo on a night like this and I laugh at the thought. Last time we had a party like this, I was on top of the bar feeding the horde of eager pussy vodka from the bottle and calling myself the king of the fucking world. The rush of adrenaline that pulses through me as I scan the crowd searching for tonight’s conquest, evaporates when I see Riley, stood by the pool table, cue in hand.

  For a moment I’d forgotten about her, but just one look and every other person in the club pales in comparison. She’s smiling and I want that. I want her to look at me and smile, just for me. But when her eyes catch mine, she frowns and looks away.

  I want her in a way I’ve never wanted another soul. I can stand on the bar and be the king of this fucking room, but right now all I want is to be her king and for her to be my queen.

  Oh shit, oh fuck, he’s here. This isn’t a surprise, so I don’t know why I’m shocked, but I am.

  Inhaling deeply, I try to calm myself without letting any of the other people around me know that I’m panicking. When he’d driven away from Rosie and Park’s place, I’d smoothed down my skirt again, thrown my bags over my shoulder, and made my way inside like nothing had happened. I don’t think I fooled anyone with my insistence that I was fine, but I’m nothing if not persistent, and despite Rosie asking me in a hundred different ways what the hell was going on with me, I never said a word.

  It wasn’t until I was in their shower, the water cleaning away the remnants of our quickie in the truck, that the reality of what we had done had really struck me. I had sex with Justin in a truck at the side of the road. Hot, frantic, maybe a little angry sex, but I still had sex with him, and I have absolutely no clue how I feel about that.

  Anna told me to find someone I had chemistry with, and fuck, Justin and I have chemistry, but we don’t have anything more than that. All I know, or at least all I think I know about him, is that he’s extremely good-looking and he knows it. That he doesn’t have to work to pick up women and leaves with a different one each time. I know that he’s cocky to the point of arrogance
and that he works at a strip club.

  He’s not what I want. I just got out of a toxic relationship with someone whose arrogance and selfishness hurt me. The sex with Justin was unbelievable, but somehow, I don’t believe anything between him and I could ever just be casual. If he wasn’t so good-looking, I’d find him easier to resist, but I don’t think I’m equipped to deal with another misogynistic jerk.

  How the hell have I gone from Dan—nice, geeky Dan who I have zero chemistry with, but is basically the perfect guy for me—to Justin. A cavalier manwhore, who looks scary for a living and is so far from what I should want that it’s almost funny, but who also makes me want to rip his clothes off and jump onto his dick every time I’m near him. I’m so screwed up.

  The biker club is insane tonight. This is pretty much exactly what you expect when you think of a club full of bikers. So far, I’ve seen two girls making out; and a guy receiving a blowjob, his back leaning up against the bar. His cock was out for everyone to see as a girl went to town, deep throating him, her thick black mascara running down her cheeks as she swallowed his dick so far down her throat she couldn’t breathe.

  On the other side of the room there are two guys and a girl having a very loud, very public threesome. The girl is screaming out her pleasure with one guy in front, the other behind, moving in perfect synchronicity. It’s basically a free live sex show in here tonight and as much as I’m trying to act cool about all of this, I’m not. I’m so not. I don’t know where to look, or if it’s even okay to look. I mean anyone who is having sex out in the open in the middle of a party obviously doesn’t care who’s watching, but does that mean it’s okay for me to stare?

  When I glance over at Rosie, I find her face buried in her boyfriend’s chest and I wonder if it’s because she doesn’t know where to look either. A group of us are crowded around the pool table and I’m grateful to have something to concentrate on. But no matter how hard I try to focus all of my attention on the balls on the table, it’s the ones swaying back and forth as one third of the threesome really goes to town on the woman he and his counterpart are fucking, that have my attention.