by Hart, Lane
But Peyton’s not like anyone else.
And maybe I’m a sadist because, no matter how hard it will be to let her leave tomorrow morning, knowing she’ll never come back, I want every last second I can get with her, even the cuddling.
* * *
Peyton
I’m starting to realize Dalton is looking forward to the end of our time together about as much as I am.
Did he really think I would let him just drop me off and ride away tonight?
No fucking way.
I want to kiss every inch of him one last time. I want to soak up the feeling of his warm, hard body pressed against mine while he’s inside me. And then I want to fall asleep with his strong arms wrapped tightly around me, like he doesn’t plan to ever let go, even if we both know he will in a few hours.
While being with Dalton is amazing, I can’t keep risking my career, my livelihood, on a man I just met, especially one who is more than likely going to break my heart when he ends up falling in bed with someone else. It’s what he does.
“Ready?” I ask with as much of a smile as I can muster when Dalton strolls up to me outside the hotel after parking his bike.
“Yeah,” he agrees, taking my hand, and we head inside to the elevator bank.
The ride up to my room is silent because Dalton is unusually quiet. The fact that he’s not joking and teasing me with his smart mouth is a little worrisome. I’m even a little nervous as I unlock the door and we step inside the room. More nervous than I was the first night with Henry, the man who was too gorgeous and perfect to be real.
Now that I’ve gotten to know Dalton, I’m well aware he has flaws, yet none of that deters me from still wanting him more than anything else in the world right now.
I go over and turn on both lamps on either side of the bed because I want to see and remember everything we’re about to do. Then I start to wonder if Dalton even wants to have sex. He’s had an emotional night dealing with his father. That’s why, when I walk up and stand in front of him, I ask, “Do you want to just get in bed and cuddle tonight?”
“No,” he answers without delay, and part of me is relieved he still wants me.
His hands come up and get to work unbuttoning my blouse. After I step out of my shoes, Dalton meticulously removes my jeans, then my bra and panties, until I’m standing in front of him naked while he looks at me but doesn’t touch.
“Your turn,” I tell him, reaching for his cut when my self-consciousness can’t take being silently stared at any longer.
“Hold on,” he says, removing both of my hands from his cut and holding them while his eyes continue to roam over me from head to toe. “I’m trying to memorize every beautiful curve on your body. And once I strip down, I won’t be able to just look anymore.”
“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” I tell him, and I’m not sure who is more surprised by my offer, me or him.
“Really?” Dalton asks with both eyebrows raised.
“Just remember that I know where you live if you upload them to some sleezy website,” I joke. He grins like a kid in a candy store before he quickly retrieves one of his phones and snaps a photo of my face and then steps back to get a full frontal.
“Turn around,” he says.
“Seriously?” I ask.
He simply makes the twirling gesture with his finger without saying another word, so I eventually comply, even going so far as to brace my hands on the nightstand to really push out my ass. It’s a pose that I would never have considered doing for a man before I met Dalton.
“Fucking perfect,” he says from behind me before I hear the snap of the photo on his old untraceable flip phone. I try not to think too hard about why he has two phones.
From the corner of my eye, I see the phone go flying, landing on the mattress, before Dalton’s tall shadow descends on me. He pushes my hair aside from my right shoulder so that his lips can place a kiss on my skin. His hands come down on my hips as he fits the front of his clothed body to my backside and says, “Now I’ll always have a photo to remind me of that first night when you were bent over the backseat for me.”
A shiver runs down my spine while a boulder lodges in my throat when I realize that I don’t have a photo or anything else to remember Dalton by. Just memories that will eventually fade once I’m back in Georgia, until I can’t even remember all of the details of his face.
But when one of Dalton’s hands lower and cup me so possessively, so familiarly between my legs while his lips pick up the pace and starts kissing my neck, the time for thinking is over. I close my eyes so I can just focus on feeling everywhere he’s touching me, especially that warmth spreading in my chest that only he’s capable of reaching.
Chapter Eighteen
Dalton
“Are you awake?” I slide my hand up Peyton’s stomach and ask from behind her when I wake up after our last hot and heavy round, needing her yet again. First, I had her when she was naked and bent over when I was still fully-clothed. Then, she made quick work of getting me undressed and went down on me before riding me hard and fast. But hearing her scream my name twice wasn’t nearly enough.
“Yes,” she answers softly before she rolls to her back so I can mount her. Our mouths collide into a searing, hot kiss as I devour her while my hand feels around the bedside table for a condom.
When I sit back on my knees to roll it on, Peyton asks, “Is that your last one?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “Guess I better make it count.”
“I’m sure you will,” she replies with a small smile, her blonde hair spread out around her and practically glowing, thanks to the soft light of the lamps in the otherwise dark room.
“Come here,” I say, grabbing Peyton’s hips and pulling her onto my lap. I ease her down on my cock as she wraps her arms around my neck and locks her legs behind my back. We’re face-to-face, chest to chest, while I’m inside of her. From this position, I can easily kiss her while I run my hands through her hair and hold her as our bodies stay connected, moving in synchrony.
“You feel so good,” she whispers against my lips as her breath begins to stagger, telling me she’s already getting close.
“Not yet,” I say when I pull her off my shaft to make sure she doesn’t come so soon because as soon as she does, it’s all over for me, then it’s all over for us.
“Please, Dalton,” Peyton begs as she wiggles her hips and tries to climb on me again.
“Delayed gratification,” I remind her, even though I’m in agony myself.
For the next few minutes, she pulls my hair and claws my back as I kiss her and keep her from coming apart, even though she’s dying to.
“Ugh, I won’t miss you being a withholding asshole,” she huffs when she finally has enough and starts to push me away to climb off of me.
“Sure, you will,” I tell her when I tackle her down on the mattress, so she’s flat on her back.
“Maybe a little,” she agrees softly as she holds my face in her hands and stares up at me. “But only if you kiss me and finally make love to me.”
“I was trying to make it last,” I explain to her.
“I know,” Peyton agrees as she reaches down between us and lines up my cock to enter her. “Now just make it good.”
With that request, I sink inside of her and then savor each second that our bodies are joined while looking down into her eyes. In them, I see everything that I’m feeling reflected right back at me.
“I’m close,” Peyton eventually says.
“I know, kitten,” I tell her. “Me too.”
“Don’t stop,” she pants.
And fuck, I don’t want to stop. Ever.
Why is it that the one woman I’m actually starting to fall for is a goddamn ATF agent who lives in another state? I would give anything to change both of those things. But I can’t. Just like I can’t change my past or give my dad his memories back. Some things are out of my control and I can’t fucking stand it.
So, I decide to
take back control of what I can.
And instead of giving Peyton the sweet ending she wants, I flip her body over and slam into her from behind. Hell, to really piss her off, I grab a handful of her hair and give it a tug while I pound her into the mattress.
“Why?” Peyton looks over her shoulder and asks, or she tries to before I jerk on her hair. I don’t want to see the disappointment on her face.
“Because I can,” I tell her.
She calls me several horrible names before her pussy clamps down on my cock. She comes so hard she milks me dry while crying out my actual name.
I haven’t even caught my breath when she says, “Get the fuck out.”
Unlike the afternoon in her townhouse, I know she means every word this time. She wants me gone, out of her life for good.
It’s better this way, leaving with her face down, naked on the bed and angry at me, instead of me breaking down and begging her to stay with me in the morning, after hours of cuddling, right? I won’t lower myself to acting like a goddamn pussy just to convince her that we’re good together or could figure out a way to make this work.
But as I climb off the bed to throw the condom away in the bathroom and get dressed, I start to think maybe I’ve made a mistake. A huge one I’ll regret for the rest of my life.
* * *
Peyton
Damn him!
Why did Dalton have to go and ruin our last time together?
There were so many amazing moments with him over the last few weeks, and now they’re all overshadowed by the one time Dalton was a jerk.
As soon as he moved on top of me the final time, things changed. I felt it, and so I’m sure he did too. What had been casual between us suddenly became more…
I think that’s why Dalton was trying to piss me off, to stop the sudden onset of feelings. It definitely worked. I wanted him gone, too angry and hurt to even look at him.
But as soon as the hotel door clicks shut with his departure, I want to beg him to come back.
That seems to be the effect he has on me. I shouldn’t want to be with him, yet for weeks, I couldn’t resist.
And now…now, things are over. For good. That’s the last time I’ll ever have to see the back of his stupid leather cut with that damn bearded skull wearing a crown.
This is a good thing, how we both knew it would end.
So why does it feel like my heart is being ripped from my chest?
It was just sex, right?
Until it wasn’t.
Chapter Nineteen
Dalton
“Any other business we need to discuss?” Torin asks as we all sit around the Savage Kings table and start winding up our meeting.
My body may be present, but my head and heart are still back in the hotel room, remembering every second of my last night with Peyton.
It’s only been a week, yet I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve gone east on Highway 40 to see her, only to turn around and head home with my tail between my legs. Now I’m certain that I’m acting like a pussy because I can’t stop thinking about her, though I know we’re both better off apart. After how I left her, odds are she would shoot me rather than invite me in.
And soon the club will find out if she’s decided to bring us down. If not, it’s back to Georgia for Peyton…
“Yeah, one more thing,” Sax, our club’s secretary, speaks up and says. “Dalton, what the hell have you been doing over in Raleigh?”
Startling out of my pensiveness at the sound of my name, I say, “How did you know I—”
“Some guys in their charter have spotted you riding down 40 on your one in a million bike, wearing your cut, several times over the last few weeks,” Sax grumbles.
“So? Why the fuck do they care if I’m there?” I ask defensively, more grumpy than usual without being able to see Peyton. “It’s none of their fucking business.”
“Because you’re an officer in the original Savage Kings charter,” Sax reminds me. “They called because they thought they had fucked up and that you were there on club business to keep an eye on them.”
“Wow. They’re big damn pussies over in Raleigh,” I grumble. “I didn’t know the original Kings had to ask for permission to travel outside our city limits.”
“You’re right,” Torin says. “You don’t have to ask for permission or ride in a group everywhere you go, but you’re asking for trouble riding that far alone.”
“The ATF agent lives in Raleigh,” Reece pipes up and outs me from across the table, making me curse under my breath.
“An ATF agent?” Coop repeats. “The one we stole the goddamn laptop from?”
“That would be the one,” Reece answers with a grin that I want to punch off of his face. “Peyton Bradley.”
“You’re not that fucking stupid, are you?” Chase asks me with a scowl.
“We’re just fucking. We were just fucking,” I amend. “It’s over and done now. I swear.”
“No,” Torin says, rubbing his chin in thought.
“Excuse me?” I ask him.
“Keep seeing her,” Torin says.
“What the hell?” Chase asks. “She’s a fed who’s investigating us! For all we know, she could be using him to get dirt on the damn club!”
Isn’t that exactly what I thought too? Now, I’m not so sure.
“All she was using was my dick,” I snap at our VP in Peyton’s defense, which I admit, doesn’t sound all that much better, but I don’t think she was just sleeping with me to get details. Hopefully.
“Dalton isn’t stupid,” Torin argues, then narrows his eyes at me before he adds, “Most of the time. We know he’ll keep his mouth shut about club business, so if he thinks he has this shit under control then he should, you know, keep seeing her.”
“Ah, thanks for the vote of confidence there, Pres,” I mutter. “But seeing her again is not an option.”
“Why not? You lost your powers? No more panties drop wherever you happen to appear?” Abe teases.
“No, but…”
“Then keep fucking her,” Torin says. “We have Jade watching our backs as the Sheriff on the state level, but we could use a federal ally.”
As Chase and Torin’s stepsister, she’s family, so she owes them some loyalty. Peyton would never back the MC. But would she cover for me if it came to it? Maybe.
“I can’t guarantee she’ll ever have our backs despite how amazing I am in the sack,” I tell him.
Rolling his eyes, Torin says, “That’s a chance I think we’ll be willing to take.”
“So, you want me to use her?” I ask for clarification.
“No,” Torin answers, lifting the corner of his lips. “We want her to keep using you.”
Shaking my head in disbelief, I tell him, “That’s just wrong, Pres.”
“Does anyone feel bad for Dalton taking one for the club? Or think the risks outweigh the benefits?” Torin asks the men gathered around the table. “Let’s vote it. All in favor of Dalton whoring himself out for the club?”
“Nay!” I huff.
Yea is spoken in unison by ten assholes and Abe feels the need to add, “When has Dalton not been whoring himself out? At least now it will be for a good reason.”
Some of the guys chuckle while a smirking Torin slams down his gavel on the table ceremoniously and says, “Looks like it passes almost unanimously.”
“Fuck you all,” I tell them as I wave both of my middle fingers in front of my face at them when everyone pushes their chairs back and starts to leave the chapel.
So now I have the MC’s blessing on seeing Peyton. The question is, how the hell do I convince her that she should keep seeing me after the way I treated her the last night we were together, and when we live so far apart?
Chapter Twenty
Peyton
“Your phone’s ringing. Again,” Quincey says as we sip martinis at the bar after work.
“Yep,” I mutter but I don’t answer it. Instead, Quincey grabs it from my purse.<
br />
“Unknown,” she reads from the screen.
“Yep.”
“Your gorgeous bad boy is still calling?” she asks. “How long has it been now? Two weeks?”
“Three,” I correct.
“Wow. Three weeks and you’re still refusing to talk to him?” she replies. “You must have the willpower of a nun.”
“He’s also been sending flowers,” I tell her while trying to keep my facial expression neutral. It’s harder than I expect, thinking about the beautiful, colorful bouquets made with a variety of flowers.
“Oh really?” Quincey asks with a grin. “What kind?”
“All sorts, he mixes it up each day,” I tell her, barely concealing my grin as I also recall all of the sweet notes. The ones I love the best say that he hasn’t been with anyone else and he’ll remain celibate for the rest of his life unless he gets to be with me. Do I believe that for an instant? No, but he does know exactly what I want to hear.
“Oh my god. Now you’re just being downright cruel to the man,” Quincey huffs.
“No matter how much I want to see him again, what’s the point? We could never work since we’re living two very different lives. And he lives two hours away now. If I throw in the towel on the investigation, it’ll be even farther once I’m back in Georgia.”
“Are you going to recommend that the U.S. Attorney drop the investigation?” she asks.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Of course you are,” she replies. “You’re just stalling. And a two-hour drive is all there is right now, which is nothing,” she says with a wave of her hand. “Come on, let’s get in the car and head to the coast tonight. I’ll go with you! He has hot biker friends, right?”
“You think I should drive two hours on a Friday night to go see Dalton with another woman?” I ask. “No, thanks.”
