by Laura Day
Jack was waiting in the hallway. “Do we need to be worried?”
She glanced back at the closed bedroom door, and then gestured down the hallway to the living room. Jack nodded and followed her.
“I don’t think so,” she said, very quietly. “He isn’t talking about what happened at all, but he says it’s done, and we’re safe, and Mase—he wouldn’t tell us to let our guards down unless he was sure. He’s too careful for that.”
“Okay,” Jack said. “Thank you. You two—do what you need to tonight, sleep as late as you can in the morning. Missy and I will take care of everything else.”
She nodded, and he hugged her gently, his arms enfolding her and squeezing her with a kind of care that made her sniffle, just a little bit. He went back to his wife. Caroline peed, and then she went back to Mason.
He was lying on his side, in the bed, his eyes open. She crawled under the sheets and moved to him. His arms went around her automatically, but there was no pressure in them as she moved closer to him. His eyes were on her face, but they were seeing something else, something very far away.
“I love you,” she said, simply. Yes, that made his eyes snap back into focus. “I don’t know what happens next. If you have any ideas, I’m listening.”
“Right now, I just want to hold you,” he said. “If that’s still okay.”
“Of course,” she said. He gathered her up like she weighed no more than a doll, clutching her against him. He breathed her in, his face pressed into her neck, her throat, and then he darted lower, inhaling the scent of her breasts, and she couldn’t help the tiny sound that escaped her. She couldn’t help but think of how Missy’s head has rested there, the way her eyes had rolled up like shudders as she came.
Mason jerked back as if she was on fire. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, not at all.” She smiled for him, reaching closer and kissing him softly. “Rather the opposite, actually.”
He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I didn’t— think you’d want—”
“You?”
His head jerked up, once and down, fast. “Don’t pity me.”
“I don’t.”
“I thought you would.”
She took a deep breath. “You’re being very confusing.”
He barked a laugh that didn’t contain anything close to humor. “That’s fair. Can I hold you?”
“Just hold?”
His eyes met hers again, finally. “Do you really want more?”
“I think—Mase, I think I’ll always want more. I don’t think you could chase me away, not without a hell of a lot of effort. I know it hasn’t been long, and I’m not proposing or anything crazy, but I— I want to get to know you. I want you in my life. I want to find out what it means to love you.” She could feel his cock stirring against her thigh. She reached down to him, still semi soft in his nest of red curls, and smiled. “If you’re not sick of me yet, anyway.”
“I am very not sick of you.” His hips shifted against her hand, quietly, and he sighed. “I am the opposite of sick of you. But I don’t—have anything with me—”
“I don’t either, but this is Jack’s house, and I bet…” she reached into the nightstand drawer, and came out with a box of condoms. “Ta-da!”
He laughed and kissed her again, with more intent this time. “By the way,” he said, his hand sliding up her inner thigh, finding the waistband of her pajama pants and easing them down her hips, “Did you have fun tonight?”
She shook for a second with the memory of the pleasure washing through her. “It was intense. Good intense. Different. Good different.”
“Better?”
“Different.”
“Good.” He slide down between her thighs and his mouth moved over her, greedy and determined. She sighed, twisting her fingers in his hair, trying to keep her noises at least a little quiet. She was fairly sure she’d heard Jack and Missy before, but that didn’t mean she and Mason needed to wake them up. At least, not on purpose.
“How—oooh, yes, right there—how was your adventure?”
He looked up at her, rested his chin on her mound, and rolled his eyes. “Can’t talk now,” he said. “Eating pussy.” And his mouth moved back with a rapid, fluttering motion over her clit that made her stuff the pillow over her face to keep back the cries of delight. His fingers were everywhere, sliding into her ass, sliding into her cunt, fucking her everywhere, and then when she couldn’t stand it—when she had to have him before she stopped breathing entirely—he moved up her body, capturing her mouth with his and sliding deep inside of her. His eyes locked on hers, and he shifted inside of her.
“Mine,” he said. “As long as you’ll give yourself to me.”
“Yes,” she whispered, locking her legs around his hips and trying to urge him past this torturous rhythm that was keeping her on the knife-edge of a shockingly overwhelming orgasm. He refused to move faster, refused to pause at that deeper entry where she could have found the angle she needed. “Yes. I’m yours, and you’re mine.”
“It was kinky,” he said, almost conversationally. “With Trish. Wicked kinky. More than I’ve played before. Maybe a way I want to play again.”
“Whatever. Yes. Please. Anything. Are you going to let me come yet?”
“No. I’m torturing you, hush and enjoy it.”
“Can’t make me.”
“Can,” he said, and his mouth was on her nipple, teasing it, torturing it, and it was almost enough, so close to enough, but just as she started to crest he pulled back, keeping that slow rhythm going. “Jack have anything else in his nightstand of tricks?”
“I don’t know,” she said, and almost giggled at the sulky tone in her voice.
“We’ll have to look later. Where are you going to stay?”
“Does this really matter right now?” She marveled at the fact that he was even having this conversation, buried balls deep in her as he was.
He bent down close to her, and then rolled them so that she was straddling him. “It matters,” he said. “Are you okay with going back to your house?”
“No,” she said, fast and certain. She could ride him until she screamed now, but he’d follow her fast if she did that, and turnabout was fair play, after all. She kept herself almost perfectly upright, moving over him slow and steady, his hands teasing over her breasts, her clit, her thighs, and back again. The orgasm still glimmered on the horizon, and she watched it moving steadily closer, enjoying the approach, the knowledge that they wouldn’t be done until it arrived. “No, I’m never going back there again. I’ll sell the house and—I don’t know, do something. Maybe Jack and Missy will let me stay here for a while.”
“You’ll stay with me,” he said, and the sureness in his eyes, the intensity of the offer—it was a lot more than just an offer of housing. She bent over him then, letting her small breasts move over his mouth, and her hips sped up as he drove up into her, capturing her breasts with his teeth, suckling so hard that she cried out even before she came, cried out even before he slammed her hips down into him, cried out with him as they spiraled out, over the void, together.
Afterwards, she lay in his arms and smiled. He was sleeping, snoring quietly, and she was content. She had no idea what was going to happen next. He had to somehow get the club back together, get the Fallen Angels to accept new leadership, chase out the guys who had been following Declan, or somehow convince them to accept the new way things would go. And he was going to do it all while saddled with a socially awkward accountant.
Well, what the hell. The sex was good. They’d work out the rest.
Read on for an excerpt from the sequel Call My Name
And now, an excerpt from the sizzling sequel
Call My Name
Available now!
CHAPTER ONE
Caroline took a long, long look at the clock on her computer, and then glanced over at Jack, her co-worker, who looked like he’d been poured into his chair by a masochist. Even from here, she could see how cr
appy he felt. His nose was red from tissues, his eyes were dazed and bleary, and he flinched at every noise, winced at every movement. “Jack,” she said, and he turned toward her, though she didn’t get any sense at all that he was seeing her. “You really should go home and lie down.”
“No.” He shook his head stubbornly. “I’m fine.” He gripped his desk as the world shook around him, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“Fine is very different than this. Stop dripping your germs everywhere. Go home and get some rest. Come back tomorrow.”
“No,” he said again, sounding like nothing more than a 3 year old in a snit. “I told you I’d come in and cover the desk for the last two hours so you’d have time to get ready for your date with Mason.”
“My date isn’t that big a deal. I told Mase to pick me up at 6, it’ll be fine if I tell him 7 instead. Besides, Missy will kick my ass if she knows I kept you here, feeling like you do.”
Jack made a sound. If his sinuses were less full of cement, it would have been a snort. Instead, it sounded kind of like a truck backfiring, especially since it was completed by him whimpering and grabbing at his forehead. A few months back, Jack and Missy had offered her sanctuary at their house after the former leader of the Fallen Angels, Mason’s motorcycle club, had assaulted her there. They’d developed something of an informal relationship since then, sometimes just her and Missy, sometimes all three of them.
One extraordinary night, Mason had joined in the fun. But more than all of that, she and Missy had become friends. Caro’d never had a lot of female friends; she’d never quite managed to know the right secret handshakes to fit in at baby showers and weddings, and at some point, she’d stopped bothering to try. But she and Missy could talk for hours about physics, math, science fiction--it was fantastic.
“That’s probably true,” Jack said. “Are you sure Mason won’t be annoyed? I don’t need the king of the Fallen Angels mad at me.”
“President,” Caroline said, automatically. “He’s called the president.” And she had yet to decide who was more uncomfortable with that title, her or Mase. On the bad days--of which, admittedly, there were only a few--she was pretty sure they both hated it, but for completely opposite reasons.
She felt Jack watching her, and worked to keep her expression neutral. He had not expressed any disapproval of her relationship with Mason, just some surprise that the relationship was continuing after the initial heady rush of the amazing sex.
Missy had been less circumspect. She still didn’t come right out and say that it was a bad idea for them to continue to see each other, but she watched Caroline’s reactions very closely whenever Mason was out the house, which was often.
“And no,” she said, realizing she hadn’t finished her sentence. “He’ll understand.”
Jack held out for another moment, and then sighed, which triggered a coughing fit. “All right. Fine. I’m going.”
She watched him sway just a little as he stood up. “Are you really okay? I could call you a cab and then drive your car home later.”
He considered it for a minute, which was the only reason she accepted when he said that no, he was fine. She resisted the urge to help him get his things together; once he was up and moving, he seemed to gain momentum, and she didn’t want to get in his way, poor guy.
***
It was a Friday afternoon on a sunny day in September, probably one of the last really nice days they’d have before fall came in with a vengeance and moved quickly to winter. It was the curse of New England; once the leaves turned, the cold freeze, whether it brought snow or not, was close on its heels. No one wanted to think about their 401ks, their payroll dramas, their mutual funds. If she was the sort to put her feet up on the desk and take a nap, she probably could have. Instead, she indulged herself by watching the webcam feed that Elizabeth had set up in her backyard so that Caroline could visit with Gloria, her Lab, whenever she had a free minute.
Gloria had, thank the powers that be, fully recovered from the assault. But Caroline hadn’t ever felt right bringing her back to the house--hell, she could scarcely walk in the front door without crying--and Elizabeth had offered to take care of her until Caroline could figure out her next step. It was a wonderful offer, but at the same time, she couldn’t stay with Jack and Missy indefinitely. It felt wrong to sell the house because of what had happened, but at the same time...what else could she possibly do?
The bell over the door tinkled, surprising her utterly. She glanced up, and the man in the doorway smiled as he entered. She smiled back, but it was mostly to hide the way her skin crawled as his gaze traveled over her. He was dressed normally, slacks and a jacket, shirt, tie, but his eyes, as he took off his sunglasses, were cold and flat. His features were handsome, and he looked fit, based on how his suit caressed his frame, but those lizard eyes made her flinch and look away.
“Hi,” he said, walking across to her desk and extending his hand. “Mike Randall. You’re Caroline Lewis?”
She stood to take his hand, and forced himself to look directly into his eyes, no matter how they made her shiver. “Just like the nametag says,” she said, and managed a small smile. “I haven’t seen you here before, Mr. Randall. Are you here for personal finance, or business?”
“Oh, a little of everything,” he said, sitting down in the chair across from her desk. He reached into his pocket, and her whole body tightened; when he pulled out his badge, her heart almost stopped. “And, I should have said. Detective Mike Randall. I have a few questions I’d like to ask you about a missing person.”
She tried to keep breathing. She was sure she could do it if she tried.
“Do you know who I’m here to ask about, Ms. Lewis?”
Her heart was absolutely throbbing. She shuffled papers around on her desk, realized she was fidgeting, and made herself stop. “I don’t--my social circle isn’t very wide, Detective, and everyone I know is where they should be.”
“Go ahead and think hard,” he said, and his lizard eyes were gleaming with anticipation.
She wasn’t sure what snapped in her, but it went with a rubber-band pop. “I’m sorry, but I’m really bad at guessing games. If you have questions--about finances, or about whatever you came here about, please ask them. Otherwise, I have work to do.” Her voice didn’t quaver, and she didn’t flinch away from his eyes.
A small expression bent his lips, but she wouldn’t have called it a smile. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. He opened it up, and she saw a color copy of one of the pages from the logbooks that Mason had brought her, back when this mess began. A name was circled, again and again, on the page. She hadn’t circled it. She’d known that Mason was going to need to have these books back, untouched, like they’d never left the garage, so she’d kept separate notes. But looking at the books brought back all the memories.
The feel of her hands, tightly bound against the chair behind her. The whisper of Mason’s voice in her ear, the feeling of his fingers brushing against her hand as he tried to pass her a message, a message that she hadn’t understood at all. The top of her head was too light, she was going to float away, fly away, vanish, disappear. She couldn’t breathe.
And the detective was still watching her with that cold expression, that soft, fake, predatory smile, and breathing was not a thing that she could do. Stars danced in her vision, and she wondered what would happen to her if she fainted, if she passed out right now.
“Tell me,” he said, and his voice came from far away, echoing through the tunnel as she fell. “Who is Anna Bressette?”
“She was my sister.” Mason’s voice was so cold and clear that it felt like a dream, but she let it be a line to pull her back to reality from the nightmare where she was drowning. “Baby, is everything okay here?”
“Detective Randall had some questions. About--a missing person, I guess?” Fuck, she’d nearly said Declan’s name. That would have been convenient, wouldn’t it? Fuck.
Mason sto
od at his full height, broadening his shoulders, crossing his arms, and planting his feet. Moments like this, she knew damn well that he’d been in the military for a long time, that he wouldn’t ever really be out. “If you have questions, Detective, I suspect that they’re really for me.”
Randall stood, matching Mason’s stance with one just as balanced, just as casually aware of the violence that could break free at any moment. “Mr. Butler, I would love for us to talk. But somehow, for an outlaw, you’re shockingly well connected within the legal system.”
