Vigor: A Spartan Riders Novel

by J.C. Valentine

  Releasing an exasperated sigh, Repo sat back on his haunches and began releasing the buttons on her shirt.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” she screeched, slapping at his hands.

  Repo was undeterred. “I’m settling this.”

  “By doing what, stripping me naked?”

  “For starters,” he said, baring her breasts. For just a moment, he paused, soaking in the vision of those creamy, pale, freckled mounds. She wasn’t wearing a bra, the little vixen. Before she had a chance to pull her shirt back together, Repo yanked it down her arms, leaving the material pooled around her elbows, making movement difficult for her.

  “Damn you, you bastard,” she hissed, struggling against her makeshift bonds.

  “Keep cursing me, babe, and I’ll stuff a sock…or maybe a cock…in that mouth. Now,” he said, palming her breasts and giving them an affectionate squeeze, “I’m going to finish getting these clothes off you, and then we’re going to play until you beg me to fuck you, and then we’re going to fuck until you’re begging me to give you my patch.”

  “I’ll never beg you. Not for anything.”

  “Oh, you will, babe. You will.”

  Reaching between his legs, Repo cupped his aching shaft through his jeans and squeezed, releasing a groan of need. One way or another, he was getting inside her tonight. He had to feel that soft, wet pussy wrapped around him again, feel the warmth of her embrace, the bite of her nails in his back, and hear those breathy moans of hers in his ear again.

  Looking at her now, those double Ds exposed to him, rosy nipples beading from the slight chill in the air, her fair skin flushed from anger and frustration, and if he had to guess, desire. He was ready to nut in his pants like a teenager. Taking a deep breath, Repo summoned calm. When he came, he was going to do it inside her, buried to the hilt.

  THIRTEEN

  Ginger couldn’t believe she was allowing him to touch her, to play with her…because she’d sworn not to allow Repo to get to her. But he was so sexy and so persuasive…

  Well, if persuasive meant that he was sexy, that is.

  She was loath to admit it, but Ginger was weak. Maybe it was because of their history, or that she’d had a sexual drought as of late thanks to him…or maybe it was because, at the heart of it all, she was still in love with the man.

  Whatever the cause, she didn’t stop him.

  Not when he stripped her of her clothes. Not when he spread her open for his prying eyes. Not when he nestled those wide shoulders between her legs. And certainly not when he buried his face between her thighs.

  No. Ginger was no longer a prisoner of body, but of mind. And she told herself, as Repo licked and sucked and buried his fingers knuckle-deep inside of her, that she was letting him tease her body because he owed her. Depriving her of sex, then kidnapping her and tethering her to his bed for hours and being a general dick, Ginger was due some pleasure.

  So, she was taking it. Didn’t matter how mad she was with him.

  Yeah, that was it.

  Burying her fingers in his thick crop of salt and pepper hair, Ginger arched her back and released a moan that would probably send the neighbors calling for the police. She didn’t care about that either.

  Repo was so good at what he did, even better than she remembered.

  “Don’t stop!” she cried out as every muscle in her body twitched and seized. “Repo, don’t stop!”

  His head came up, and he stared up at her.

  Gasping for breath, Ginger looked down at him, puzzled and desperate for release. “What are you doing? I was there.”

  “I know. But you forgot something,” he said with a devilish smile, those lips glossy with her juices.

  Ginger frowned, her sluggish brain scrambling to recall what she could have possibly forgotten, but nothing came to her.

  “I don’t answer to Repo, babe. Not with you.”

  Ginger dropped her head back on the pillow, sighing in exasperation. “Not this again.”

  “Yes, this again.”

  “You’re a real pain in my ass, you do realize that.”

  “Not yet, but I can be if you want me to be.”

  She heard the teasing lilt in his voice and couldn’t deny that the very thought of him taking her that way excited her. “Repo—” His disapproving tsk stopped her instantly, and she corrected herself. “Garrick, don’t waste my time. This isn’t funny to me.”

  “Trust me, babe, I don’t find any of this funny. In fact, I take your pleasure very seriously.” He punctuated his words with a hard thrust of his fingers inside her, and Ginger’s fingers flexed, tugging at his roots as she sucked in a breath.

  “Don’t call me babe,” she had the presence of mind to remind him. After all, she couldn’t allow him to set a double standard. Fair was fair.

  “What should I call you then?” he asked softly as he dipped his head and allowed the tip of his tongue to dance lightly around her clit. “Mmm, you taste delicious.”

  For the life of her, Ginger couldn’t recall what they’d been discussing or what her answer might have been. She only felt the need for release, and it was her sole focus just then. Gripping his hair in her fists, she pulled his head closer and moved her hips, striving for contact that wasn’t feather-light.

  “Eat me, Garrick. I want your mouth.”

  “Answer my question, then I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “What question?” She lifted her hips once more, swiveling them and growing increasingly frustrated as he managed to stay just out of range, allowing only enough contact to keep her blood racing.

  “What do you want me to call you?”

  God, not this again. “I don’t care! Anything you want. Just fuck me already!”

  He chuckled, washing her overheated core in his warm breath. “I’ll remember you said that, babe.”

  Then he dove in, three fingers inside her, flexing and curling and pumping while his tongue swirled and flicked and his lips sucked at her until Ginger was reduced to a writhing, unhinged mess, a slave to the orgasm that hit her like a train barreling down the tracks at full speed.

  Grinding herself against his mouth, Ginger screamed her release and, bless him, Garrick took the abuse like a champ. Even though he was probably being smothered, he went at her like a man possessed until, finally, the wave released her from its powerful grip and Ginger slumped into a boneless heap.

  More than pleased with his performance, Garrick untangled himself from her limbs and sat back to observe his handiwork.

  “Well now, don’t you look satisfied.”

  “Mmm, I so am,” Ginger said, stretching her arms above her head.

  “Hmm…I wonder how much though…” he mused, rubbing his fingertips across his wet beard.

  Ginger snickered beneath her breath, knowing exactly where his line of thought was headed. “I might be pliant now, but I haven’t lost my head. I still won’t accept your patch, Garrick.”

  His brows arching up, Garrick eyed her with pure intent that made her belly flip. “You’re going to put me through my paces huh? Challenge accepted.” His hands went to his vest, his fingers dragging the zipper down slow. “I’ll just have to fuck it out of you then.”

  Ginger was about to protest—albeit feebly—when someone started pounding on the front door.

  “What the fuck.” His “seduction” forgotten, Garrick jerked the zipper back up and climbed down from the bed before Ginger could fully process what was happening. “You expecting company?” He grabbed her robe from the back of the bedroom door and slung it at her before marching out of the room.

  Covering herself quickly, Ginger rushed after him, the pain of her feet forgotten. “It’s too late for visitors,” she told him, curious herself as to who it could be.

  “You’d better pray it’s not a lover.”

  “I don’t take lovers,” she scoffed. But if it was… Man, she hoped he didn’t kill the poor bastard inside. Bloodstains were a bitch to get out of carpet. When they reached t
he door, she crowded in behind him, eager to find out who it was.

  “Get back, Red,” Garrick growled his irritation.

  “It’s my apartment. I want to see,” she insisted.

  “What if it’s that creep next door that peeks out his window?” he growled low.

  She was surprised he’d noticed. Still she told him, “That creep never leaves his apartment. There’s no reason for him to come here.”

  Stepping back, Garrick put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her away. “You’re not expecting anyone—” Whoever was on the other side of the door pounded on it again, demanding answer. Garrick’s hand went to his lower back, and this time Ginger shut her mouth and did as he’d instructed. “Stay back, you hear me? I’ll handle this.”

  She nodded, somewhat nervous as he turned his attention to the door and released the chain. Her mind was a whirl of thoughts, trying to figure out who would come by her place so late, and if it could possibly present a danger.

  Garrick’s large body filled the crack he’d made, blocking her view. But her curiosity was quickly satisfied when she heard the commanding tenor of the person standing on the other side.

  “Sir, we have a complaint of a disturbance at this address.”

  “What kind of disturbance?” Garrick asked, fully in control.

  “Report of a possible break-in and the sound of a female screaming.”

  “There was a mistake. There is no problem here.”

  “Sir, do you mind if we come in for a moment and confirm that for ourselves.”

  Ginger smirked. It wasn’t a question, and even though she couldn’t see his face, she knew Garrick was stewing. Sure enough, when he stepped back without a sound, pushing the door open and making a sweeping gesture with his arm, his expression was inscrutable.

  Two officers stepped inside, their gazes darting around the apartment and over to her, taking in her state of undress. Self-consciously, Ginger smoothed a hand over her hair, feeling the knots at the back of her head. She must look like a hot mess, and no doubt, when they cleared their throats and looked away fast, they had concluded where the origin of the noise had come from.

  Glancing at Garrick, she scowled when his lips twitched in amusement. The jerk actually thought it was funny.

  Despite their observation, one of the officers broke off and did a quick search of the place, leaving them standing in awkward silence for what felt like forever. Ginger clutched the robe’s lapels to her chest, while the officer standing guard before them performed cursory looks around the room, his eyes always coming back to Garrick who was always a discomfort to those who didn’t know him well.

  Standing off to the side, Garrick was the picture of ease, his broad frame dressed in all that leather leaned up against the wall, his thick arms folded across his chest, and that look of annoyance was enough to give any man pause. And he well knew it. Ginger, having known him for years, could see he was enjoying every second of this. He loved making lesser men cower. He must be having a field day now, she mused. A couple of cops afraid of the big bad biker.

  “Everything is clear,” the inspecting officer announced as he rejoined them. His partner was visibly relieved. “Thank you for allowing us a look around. We’re sorry to have disturbed you.”

  “No problem, officers.” Garrick exchanged polite head nods as he stood beside the door once again, waiting for them to leave.

  “You two have a good night.”

  Garrick slammed the door in their faces and clicked the locks back in place.

  “Well, that was rude,” Ginger observed as she turned and headed for the kitchen to fix herself a glass of water.

  “Yes, I agree. They interrupted all our fun.”

  Standing at the sink with her back to him, Ginger felt Garrick come up behind her. A moment later, his hands were braced against the counter on either side of her waist. She felt his breath on the back of her neck next, followed by the insistent bulge of his cock against her ass as he pressed in against her.

  “I can’t decide if I want to take you here, on the counter, or on that nice, soft bed of yours,” he purred in her ear.

  Ginger politely tilted her head away. “Neither. I’m tired, and you should leave.”

  Garrick chuffed, and he told her what he thought of that when his hand snuck up under her arm and dipped inside the front of her robe to cup her breast. “Tired, huh?”

  “Yes, tired,” she confirmed. The effort to keep her voice steady and not give away her desire for more of what he was offering was more challenging than anything she’d ever encountered in her lifetime.

  “You seem wide awake to me.”

  “The moment has passed, Repo,” she said, deliberately using the club’s nickname for him because she knew it’d piss him off. And it did.

  Backing off her completely, Garrick put distance between them. Ginger turned, leaning her hip against the counter. She held onto her glass with both hands, needing something to hold her focus other than the burning look now aimed at her.

  A muscle in his jaw ticked, and Garrick didn’t say anything for a long, long time, allowing her to soak in his fury and the growing tension until a fine tremor worked its way through her body.

  When he finally did move, Garrick didn’t speak a word. He just walked out.

  Ginger stared at the door long after he’d gone, refusing to acknowledge what felt an awful lot like disappointment. She was glad. Now maybe Garrick would leave her alone and set his sights on some stupid bimbo who would gladly tie herself down for a claim at a brother.

  Her chest ached suddenly at the thought, and Ginger sucked down the last of her water, refusing to acknowledge that too. She didn’t want to be an ol’ lady, and she didn’t want to be tied down to any one man. She was certain of it.

  Locking up for the night, she went to her room and exacted some order in her destroyed bedding before climbing between them and trying not to focus too hard on how cold everything felt now that she was alone again.

  FOURTEEN

  Repo was lost in his own head, so he didn’t hear a word Blake or any of his brothers were saying. Just as well. After his night with Ginger, he was a surly son of a bitch at best. Honestly, he was dead certain he wasn’t fit for public viewing or interaction, but when the president said jump, you damn sure replied with a how high.

  Except Repo jumped for no man, so there was that.

  “Right, Repo?”

  Blinking to attention, Repo glanced around the table, noting all the expectant, scruffy and bearded faces. They looked about as good as he felt. Reclined in his chair, the veritable picture of ease, Repo simply said, “Right.”

  Blake stared him down. “So, you’re in agreement then.”

  “Sure.”

  “Then you clearly haven’t been listening to a word any of us have said.”

  He had him dead to rights, and they all knew it. Not one to mince words, Repo’s reply was simple. “Nope, but you’re the boss. Your word is law.”

  Blake continued to stare, and whatever was going on behind those gray eyes of his, Repo didn’t have a clue, nor did he care enough to inquire. He had more important things on his mind…like how he was going to persuade that stubborn mule of a woman to be his.

  Shaking his head, Blake said, “So we’re in agreement that until we know more, everyone will continue to sit tight and mind their fucking business. Which brings me to Red.”

  At the mention of Ginger, Repo got real fucking focused.

  “Our man here,” Blake said with a jerk of his chin toward Repo, “has a hard-on for her, and he’s got it in his head to claim her.”

  There was a collective groan around the table, which got Repo’s hackles up since he’d already told the POSs what was up, proving they still harbored some misguided notion they had a chance with her. They did not. And they’d all just ensured he’d be keeping a close watch on all their hairy asses. He glared at each and every one of them just to be sure they understood.

  Holding up his hand,
Blake continued. “I know, I know. Red has that magic touch you boys love so much, but a claim is a claim, and Mr. VP isn’t getting any younger.” Repo’s lip curled, and Blake laughed. “Don’t growl at me, you fucker. See, boys, take a toy away from a dog, you get bit. Same thing here. Don’t touch what ain’t yours, got it? From here on, Red is off-limits. And I expect every single one of you to not only abide by that but also to watch out for our fellow brothers at arms. If you see anyone overstepping, put ‘em in their place, but keep it out of the hospital, okay? I don’t need any blood spilled right now.”

  Country was the only one brave enough to speak up, and judging by the cocky smirk, Repo knew he wouldn’t like whatever was about to come out of his mouth. “So, just so I have this straight, no touching means no diddling or otherwise fondling, caressing, or poking of any kind, right?”

  Suppressing a laugh, Blake said, “One hundred percent nothing beyond an exchange of words.”

  “So, we can talk about those things, but not do them then.”

  Repo jerked upright in his seat, leaning forward with his arms on the table. “You have a woman at home. Don’t make me tell Talia, you prick.”

  Country threw his hands up, his eyes wide, the very picture of innocence. “Wasn’t askin’ for me, my man. Just lookin’ out for the rest of these poor bastards. You know they’re all a few crayons short of a full box.”

  “Hey, I resent that,” Moose declared, that Ving Rhames baritone voice pouring over the room. “You know I have a degree.”

  “In mechanics,” Taco clarified. “Fixing an engine ain’t the same as a physicist.”

  “I’m a helluva lot smarter than you, dickhead.”

  “Then why do I get all the pussy?”

  Before a fight could break out, Blake slapped the gavel down. The loud clatter silenced the room immediately. “And on that note, everyone get the fuck outta here. Go do whatever with your day, and make it a good one.”