by Lilly Atlas
And for tonight, he was hers.
“Hey,” she said in more a whisper than a greeting.
He smiled at her as though he could read her thoughts. “Come in. Would you care for a drink?”
In the hand not holding the door open, he had a glass tumbler with a shot or two worth of liquor. Maybe a drink would settle her a bit. He was so calm, confident, and she didn’t want to appear a nervous amateur.
“Sure. Whatever you’re having.” She stepped into the suite and glanced around, taking in the opulence of the heavy drapes and mahogany furniture. It wasn’t her style; she preferred a more modern look, but someone liked it because the suite went for nearly a grand a night and it was a coveted room in this high-class hotel.
Acer shut the door behind her and moved to the bar, pouring her a drink. “I can tell by the look on your face that you’re about as into the décor as I am.”
She snickered and spun around, watching him as he prepared her drink, his laidback manner helping to put her at ease. Something, though, maybe the laser stare he pierced her with across the ballroom, led her to believe the man under the tux could be intense and formidable. “Yeah, it’s not really my thing. No offense to your father.”
Acer grunted as he walked toward her. He’d polished off his own drink but held hers out. She took it from him and brought it to her hips. After draining half the glass in one healthy gulp, she held it at her waist. Now what?
Acer reached out, wrapped his free hand around her upper arm, and pulled her flush against him.
Fia couldn’t suppress a startled yelp as she gripped his hips in an attempt to steady herself. He reached back and set what was left of her drink down on the bar, hard. The sound of sloshing liquid registered in some small part of her brain, as he wrapped a strong arm around her waist.
Before she could process the press of his firm body all along her torso, his mouth descended and took hers in a kiss that consumed. Whiskey, good whiskey, and a hint of cigar smoke mixed with his natural spicy flavor and overwhelmed her senses.
The man could kiss.
The command in his actions intrigued her. In her head, she’d answered the door, they chatted, flirted, then one exploratory kiss would lead to another until they were ripping each other’s clothes off to get to skin. She hadn’t quite expected him to pounce on her like this. She’d longed to find a man who took control in the bedroom, complete control. So much of her life was spent under the control of her overbearing parents that she tended to take the dominant role in the bedroom.
She met too many men who reminded her of her father. She couldn’t trust them enough to give up her control. She wanted a strong man who she could count on to give her what she needed without her having to take the reins and get it for herself. Was Acer that man?
Was that why she had such a powerful reaction to him from the moment she first laid eyes on him during her boring dance with Gordon? Or was it her dance with boring Gordon?
After who knew how long, he broke away and stared down at her. Her chest heaved with the effort to catch her breath and heat radiated from her face. If she’d been wet out on the balcony, she was soaked now. This was the first time she’d had such a powerful and immediate physical reaction to a man, and she couldn’t wait to see what came of it.
“Unbutton my shirt.” His voice was deeper than it had been on the balcony.
“What?” Her mind still spun from his kiss.
“Take off my shirt.”
There it was again, the commanding control, this time in his voice instead of his actions. A shiver of excitement raced up Fia’s spine. This night might be more than she’d bargained for. But exactly what she needed.
~ ~ ~ ~
Acer stared at the little vixen who had his dick so hard it could drive a stake through the ground.
She tasted as sweet as he expected, but it was her sassy side that drew him the most. He’d enjoyed verbally sparring with her out on the balcony almost as much as he enjoyed her mouth under his. She was intelligent, quick-witted, and, despite who her family was, she was the antithesis of the spoiled rich girls this charity event overflowed with.
“Yes, sir,” she said of his request to unbutton his shirt. The comment was full of snark instead of obedience.
As different as she was from the women here, she was also night and day from the women who hung around the club. Those women were only interested in two things—the size of his dick and the size of his wallet. Fia respected his opinion and his advice on her business. She was independent, intelligent, feisty, and seemed to be an ally as far as frustrations with their socioeconomic peer group.
Not that it mattered.
They played in two different camps and after tonight, the chances of running into her again were in the negative percentile.
Her small hands reached up and started with the top button. One by one, she popped them open, her gaze riveted to her task. At one point, her tongue peeked out and licked along her bottom lip. Acer groaned, imagining that tongue flicking across his dick.
Her lips twitched in a small smile. The minx enjoyed torturing him.
Instead of opening the panels of the shirt when she ran out of buttons, she placed both of her palms flat against his stomach and slowly slid them up to his chest.
His cock twitched in his pants and his stomach muscles clenched beneath the caress. The same smile she’d had seconds ago reappeared on her lips and as she continued her journey upwards. She rose on her toes as she reached his shoulders, and pushed the fabric back and off his shoulders.
Her eyes widened as his skin was revealed.
Acer tensed. Women unfamiliar with the MC scene typically had two reactions to club members, fear and distrust or a morbid curiosity of the tattooed bikers.
He had quite a few tattoos across his arms, sides and a full back piece that had taken upwards of twenty hours to complete. Across the right side of his chest, the Chinese characters for the word brothers were tattooed along with his and Derek’s birthdates. Despite how chill she seemed, Fia was a society princess. Would she recoil at the amount of ink he wore?
“Your nipple is pierced,” she said.
“It is.”
She stared at the barbell through his right nipple like she was figuring out the answer to a riddle. “Does it make it sensitive?” She ran the smooth pad of a finger from one end of the metal to the other, raking her glossy nail over his nipple as she traversed it.
His entire body jolted as though he’d been shocked.
She chuckled. “I guess so. It’s sexy.” She ran her hands over his body from shoulders to navel and he ground his back teeth together to keep from grabbing her. She circled him and, when she reached his back, released a surprised gasp. The entire expanse was covered in with the No Prisoners’ logo, prison bars pulled open at the center with a skull bursting through. The words take no were inked in an arc across his shoulder blades and prisoners rounded out the bottom.
“Well?” He couldn’t keep the bite out of his voice.
“Well, what?” Fia stepped back in front him and frowned.
“Say what you’re gonna say.”
Her scowl deepened, then her eyes widened and she smirked. “Ohh, I get it. This is a test. What happens if I fail? You gonna put a stop to this right now? I think that big bulge in your pants says otherwise.”
Her voice held some bite of her own, and he didn’t blame her. Christ, he’d invited her up here with the promise of hot sex and now he acted like an emo teenager. What did it matter what she thought of him or his ink? She was just another lay. She didn’t need to respect him and he didn’t need to respect her. Hell, they didn’t even need to like each other. But he did like her, and for some fucked up reason, he did want her to like him.
“Okay. I’ll say what I was gonna say.” Her tone mocked him. She placed her hand on his abdomen again and walked around his body, trailing her fingers as she moved. “I’m not an artist in the conventional sense, but I’m a designer. I sketch, wo
rk with colors, shapes, lighting for photo shoots. So, I think that gives me the right to call myself an artist.”
As she spoke, she traced the soft tip of one finger across the letters on his upper back. Acer couldn’t prevent his eyes from dropping closed. Her touch was intoxicating, gentle, yet arousing.
“I think your tattoos are gorgeous, stunning. As an artist, I can appreciate the talent it takes to draw these intricate designs, work with the colors and shading. And that’s with pencil and paper. To do it with a needle on someone’s skin? That kind of talent is beyond me.”
Her hand left his back and in the next moment, she was in front of him again. “I also think it’s hot as hell. Sue me. I like ink on men.” She shrugged. “I like the way it outlines your muscles and moves with you as they flex. And this—” She gave the barbell a little tug. “I already told you I thought it was sexy. Kind of a naughty secret. I’m the only one here tonight who gets to see the real you beneath the tux. To everyone in the ballroom you look like a polished businessman, but I get to reap the benefits of this bad boy undern—”
That was enough. He grabbed her ass with both hands and lifted her, spinning around and walking until her back met the nearest wall. Her eyes flew wide open and she gasped, clutching his biceps like he was a buoy that would save her from drowning. The stretchy material of her dress rode up her thighs and bunched at her hips, allowing her the freedom to lock her legs around his waist. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you might not be able to leave this hotel for a week.”
Her pointed heels dug into his back and her soft body molded against his. She slid her hands into his hair and grasped the strands between strong fingers. “Guess I passed, huh?” she asked before she yanked his mouth down to hers.
Christ, she was going to give as good as she got. Acer faltered for one second. The small part of him that had worried over her reaction to his ink also wondered how she’d respond to his alpha bedroom tactics. Needless worry. She was fire in his arms.
He pressed his erection to her core as his tongue tangled with hers. She moaned into his mouth and he increased the pressure of his pelvis against hers. She ground her mound against his hard-on and he nearly shot off into his pants.
He was going to give this woman a night she’d never forget. Then in the morning, he’d be on his way back to Arizona, doing his best to forget her.
Chapter Five
Fia took a deep breath and wiped her sweaty palms down the front of her black leather leggings. In the six months since she spent the night with Acer, she’d fantasized about this moment far too many times. Imagined what she’d say if she encountered him again.
She’d planned a script in her head, word for word. A rehearsed speech was safer than winging it. If she didn’t have something prepared, she was likely to blurt out how she couldn’t stop replaying every moment, every touch, and every orgasm from that night. He’d delivered on his promise of five orgasms by morning and threw in an extra one for good measure.
Simply stated, Acer had ruined her for other men. She hadn’t had a flicker of interest in anyone since him. If she wasn’t careful, she’d admit that too, and ask him if she’d imagined the emotional connection she remembered, or if he’d felt it too.
For the past few months, she’d thrown herself into her work, focusing on converting her business to an online format. She still had a few kinks to work out, but so far, Acer’s idea had been wildly successful. Her retail sales were up sixty percent. Women from all over the world were discovering her website and ordering her designs. The custom side of her business had slowed a bit, but that was intentional as she used her time to focus on increasing her retail sales.
She had yet to travel out of LA for any custom orders, but worked with a local clientele for now. She wanted to be confident with her new system before traveling all over the country. A few of her loyal customers came to her and she worked with them right out of her home, an experience they all loved since it was private and comfortable. A home office was something to consider moving forward. Without a doubt, she owed her increased success to Acer.
Never did she envision she’d seek him out, though. And certainly, not to give him news of a potential threat to his club. Okay, sure, she could have called with the concerning information, but she’d jumped on the first excuse to see him in person.
Her stomach flip-flopped and rolled. Three days ago, she’d walked into her favorite lunch spot only to see the back of Reginald Wellington’s head sitting at a booth. She’d met the man on numerous occasions, and would have greeted him under normal circumstances, but now that she’d slept with Acer, it somehow felt like a betrayal. She didn’t even know the details of Acer’s family problems, but that had no bearing on how she felt.
Of course, the hostess seated her at the booth directly behind the man, but she’d remained quiet and out of sight behind the high back of the booth.
While she couldn’t see him, she could clearly hear his side of a phone conversation, and the dialogue was unsettling, to say the least. Unable to fully grasp the context, she did pick up on the fact that Reginald had some ill-intended plans for Acer and his motorcycle club.
Who knew how Acer would react to the information? She didn’t know him well enough—didn’t really know him at all—to gauge his reaction. For all she knew, she could be setting off a shit-storm of epic proportions. But for the same elusive reason she avoided speaking to Reginald, she felt compelled to share the information with Acer.
So here she was, parked outside a no-frills gym surrounded by motorcycles, nervous as a virgin on her wedding night. She pressed a hand to her stomach as though she could calm the raging waters inside. “Suck it up, girl.” The weak pep talk did nothing to soothe the racehorse galloping in her chest. “On three, you coward,” she muttered. “One, two—”
Before she hit three, she wrenched the car door open and made her way across the parking lot. When she reached the entrance to the gym, she hurried inside before she could talk herself out of this madness.
The heady aroma of sweaty male surrounded her like a thick blanket. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the bright lighting in the gym after being out in the dim shades of twilight. All around her, tattooed and muscled men dressed in leather and chains shouted, cheered, and yelled profanities at a raised boxing ring in the center of the room. No one paid her any attention, so she slipped between and around many large bodies, farther into the gym and tried to get a better look at the main event.
Two men circled each other like caged animals battling to claim the dominant role. One man had his back to her, and he dipped left, dodging a quick as lightning strike. The fist flew past him, missing his face by centimeters.
Impressive.
The same man bounced on the balls of his feet and the duo spun around so she was no longer staring at his back.
Oh. My. God.
Fia’s jaw dropped and the breath stilled in her chest. Acer.
A split second later, Acer rammed his fist into his opponent’s stomach in a move that would have taken Fia out for the next week. His opponent doubled over in pain, but she barely paid him any attention. All she saw was Acer. He was shirtless. His upper body gleamed with sweat and his muscles bunched with exertion as he fought. Muscles that had pressed her down into the mattress, and against the wall, and had wrapped around her as he took her from behind.
She’d explored every inch of that body, more than once, and had committed it all to memory, but the reality of it right in front of her was just as powerful as it had been all those months ago.
A throbbing began between her legs and she shifted. Her body was pissed that it hadn’t seen any action beyond her own hand and vibrator over the last six months. Damn that man and his effect on her. The purpose of this visit was to deliver unsettling news, not drool over her real-life fantasy.
~ ~ ~ ~
Acer’s opponent rose from his hunched position, shook out his arms, and rallied. Nice recovery. Acer hadn’t held back too much on
that particular punch. He blocked a jab and landed a left hook to the side of his opponent’s head. This was too easy; the kid was inexperienced and far too predictable, coming at him with the same combination repeatedly. He could have ended it in the first round, but the crowd preferred a little show.
Acer dodged another jab and nearly fell over as a flash of glossy, honey-colored hair shining amid all the black leather crossed right into his field of vision. He knew that hair, and he knew that gorgeous face.
Fia.
Holy. Shit.
What the fuck was she doing here?
Pain bloomed in his jaw and radiated through his head as his neck snapped back with the force of a blow he hadn’t seen coming. His adversary grinned like a cocky fool.
The bell dinged. Round two over.
Acer jogged to his corner and spat a small amount of blood into a bucket. Mouthguard was a damn joke. Still hurt like a motherfucker to get hit in the mouth, though it had to be better than having a tooth go through his lip.
Maybe she’d been a hallucination, his mind playing tricks. Bringing his fantasy to life. He blinked and scanned to the right. Nope, that was definitely Fia, in the flesh.
“What the fuck was that bullshit?” Jester bellowed as Acer sank to a stool and grabbed his water bottle. “You completely lost focus at the end. You could have taken this loser without him landing one punch but you were MIA for a second. What gives?”
Acer shook his head but didn’t answer, his attention riveted to Fia.
“Oh, Jesus.” Jester groaned as he followed Acer’s stare. “Seriously? You gonna throw this match cuz you see some hot piece of ass?”
He ignored Jester’s continued ranting and focused on Fia. She should not be here. Christ, she looked like every biker’s fantasy come to life, standing there in the tightest leather pants he’d ever seen. On top, she wore a pale pink, flowy tank top that shimmered in the light. Black heeled ankle boots made her legs appear miles long. If only she’d turn around, he could see exactly what those painted on pants and boots did for her sexy ass.
