I didn’t give her a chance to come to her senses, to push me away. Her body was moving with a mind all its own, thrusting and straining toward my fingers. I traced lazy, slippery circles around the slick nub, almost laughing with happiness as she responded with increasingly wanton noises, her hands gripping my arms desperately. “Cal,” she whispered, her voice changing to an urgent moan halfway through saying my name. “Oh… Cal, I’m… I’m going to come if you keep doing that.”
“That’s the idea, Doll,” I growled against her throat, nipping against her collarbone. I slowed my pace and lightened my touch, chuckling in satisfaction as she mewled in response and strained toward me. She was getting close now, and soon she would be coming on my hand, her juices running down my fingers, coating them. It was then that I made a decision that surprised even me.
I wasn’t going to fuck her.
Not today.
Sure, I wanted to come, needed to come so fucking bad right now that it was going to practically kill me not to do it. It was all I could do to not carry her to that bed in the corner of the room and plunge my cock balls-deep inside her. But I didn’t want this to be a one-time thing, I realized. I wanted Andi right goddamn now, but I wanted her again, too, and if I fucked her now I was afraid it would just be a one-afternoon stand.
And for the first time in my life, I wanted more than that with a woman.
“Come for me, Andi,” I urged her, my teeth nipping at the soft skin of her neck. She gripped my arms harder in response and threw her head back. Suddenly she froze, then let out a long, half-crazed moan that ended in a sharp cry. Around my fingers, her pussy contracted as she exploded against my hand. Her hips thrust and bucked, her body shuddered, and I held her close to me with my other arm as her legs grew weak and buckled under her.
When her breathing began to slow, Andi opened her eyes and looked up at me shyly. I’d never seen her look shy before.
“Jesus,” she whispered.
I bent down and kissed her. Her tongue met mine hungrily.
Andi reached down then and palmed my hard shaft, caressing the length of it. I drew in my breath sharply and tried not to just come in my fucking pants.
“Holy shit, Cal,” she whispered. “You’re big.” She opened her eyes, and fixed me with a wanton stare. “Fuck me.”
I groaned. Goddamn, this girl was gonna ruin the first real moment of resolve I’d ever had in my life.
But I couldn’t let myself. I needed her to know I wasn’t just there to get off.
“Next time,” I rumbled into her ear.
“Who says there’s gonna be a next time?” she panted, a trace of her saucy attitude returning.
“This does,” I replied, bringing my soaking fingers to my mouth. My eyes locked on hers as I sucked her juices from them.
8
Andi
ANDI
Watching Cal lick my juices off his fingers might just have been the hottest and most embarrassing moment of my life.
Almost more embarrassing, though, was what happened next.
Nothing.
Somehow, after Cal had made me come harder than I’d ever come in my entire life, he just packed up the duffel bag, made sure I had his number in my phone, and told me he’d talk to me soon to see how the locks and alarms were working.
Now, as I sat bewildered on my couch, I tried to make any sense at all out of what had just happened.
Well, one thing was sure, I told myself wryly. It had been one hell of a stress release. I felt looser and more relaxed than I had in days.
It had also been a big mistake.
I felt my skin flush hot as I clapped my hands over my face, remembering the last fifteen minutes. At the same time, a warm rush of heat began building in my core at the memory, accompanied by a dull ache. Seriously? You just came. But as amazing as the orgasm Cal had given me had been — and it was amazing — my body wanted more. It craved to be filled, taken…
Fucked.
And I couldn’t figure out why it hadn’t happened.
I knew Cal had wanted to. Hell, all I had to do was check out what was going on underneath his jeans to know that he was hard as steel, and huge. My core pulsed almost painfully at the thought of it. He had wanted me. If I hadn’t known from his massive erection, the unconcealed look of lust in his eyes as he had sucked my juices off his fingers would have told me everything I needed to know.
So why hadn’t he fucked me? I had even asked him to, I thought, reddening. And he’d turned me down. I didn’t get it.
Maybe he had a hell of a lot more self-control than I had given him credit for. Maybe he had remembered that his sister was my goddamn best friend, and grown a conscience. Unlike me.
But no.
Next time, he’d said.
Would there be a next time?
The ache of between my legs increased to a throb.
God help me, I hoped so.
I had plans to go to my aunt Lori’s house for an early dinner, then band practice after that, so I hauled myself up off the couch and went to take a shower. I tried not to think about Cal’s hands and how they would feel on my naked body as the warm water slid over my skin. I tried and failed not to think about how Cal’s solid, hard length would feel in my hand, how his velvety skin would feel on my tongue.
What sound he would make when he lost control and came in my mouth.
Usually, showers relax me, but I emerged even more jittery than I was and hurriedly got dressed before I could talk myself into having an emergency session with my favorite vibrator. I grabbed my bass and threw it into its case, checked my new window alarm and locks to make sure they were all secure, and took off for my aunt’s, making sure to grab the key for the new deadbolt that Cal had left on my coffee table. I threw the bass into the back of my Kia and headed over to the house where I had spent the last six months of my high school career.
Aunt Lori greeted me at the door in an apron that said, “Last time I cooked, hardly anyone got sick.” Her short, dirty blond hair had been cut recently, the style making her look more severe than she actually was.
“Come on in,” she said. “B.J. is in the kitchen.”
B.J. was my aunt Lori’s girlfriend. I thought her name was Barbara Jean or Bobbi Jean or something similar, but I couldn’t remember, because no one ever called her anything but B.J. She was a fit, attractive woman in her late forties, and had flashing blue eyes and short dark hair with streaks of gray that she didn’t bother to cover up. The two of them had been together for a little over three years now, but they didn’t live together, because B.J. had a huge bull mastiff and Aunt Lori didn’t like dogs.
I followed Lori into the kitchen to find B.J. seated on one of the high stools at the center island, a glass of red wine in her hand. She stood and gave me a quick hug, which I returned, breathing in her familiar clean, soapy scent. “How’re you doing, kid?” she asked me.
“Fine,” I answered, slipping onto the stool next to her. “You?”
“Good. Getting ready for school to start again.” B.J. taught seventh-grade science at the local middle school. She picked up her glass and lifted it toward me. “Lori’s keeping me fed and liquored up.”
I laughed. Lori grabbed a glass from the corner cupboard and set it down in front of me. “B.J., make yourself useful and pour Andi some wine,” she said in mock irritation.
B.J. did as she was told and handed me a half-filled glass of merlot. Lori pushed a bowl of green beans toward us. “Here, snap these,” she commanded.
We settled down to work as Lori cooked, catching up on what each of us had been up to in the six weeks or so since I’d seen them. I filled them in on the Nopes’ standing gig in Denver, and Lori raised her glass in a good luck toast to the band. I lifted my glass and drank, feeling content and almost normal.
When I asked Aunt Lori what was new with her, she seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Oh, you know,” she said casually. “Same old, same old.” Lori had her own business in town, a local bran
ch of a national insurance company. She liked to say that in her business, boring was the best you could hope for.
“That sounds like good news,” I grinned.
“Yeah.” Her voice trailed off. “There was one thing that happened this week, though.” Lori shot me a quick look. “Your mom called.”
I froze. As far as I knew, the two of them hadn’t talked since not long after I’d left home.
“Oh?” My voice was brittle. “What did she have to say?”
“Not much.” Lori frowned. “She said she just wanted to touch base, make sure I was still at the same number. Asked if I was still living in Lupine.” She shook her head. “Not sure what prompted her to call.”
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I knew from what my aunt had told me several years ago that my mother had called Lori a day or so after I’d taken off. At my request, Aunt Lori had told her that she didn’t know where I was, but that I’d called earlier that day and told her I was safe. When Lori told my mother I’d left because of my stepfather, my mom grew quiet, then said I was inventing stories and hung up the phone.
Mom hadn’t called Lori since. Until last week, apparently.
A roil of emotions churned through me, making me feel sick and a little dizzy. “Did she say how Alyssa is?” I asked. My voice sounded far away in my ears.
“She said everything was fine, and that Alyssa’s doing well.”
I forced myself to ask the question. “Did she ask about me?”
Lori seemed to wince. “No, honey, she didn’t.”
I nodded. Somehow I’d known she wouldn’t. “It’s okay,” I said, my voice cracking a little.
B.J. poured the last drops from the bottle into my glass. “I’ll open another one,” she said quietly, and went to the pantry.
The rest of the meal passed uneventfully. Lori made pork chops on the grill, and we carefully avoided any other subjects that would bring our moods down. I helped the two of them clean up, then told them I had to head off to band practice. On the way out, Lori gave me a long hug.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said to me in a sorrowful voice. “I thought about not telling you, but I didn’t think that was quite fair.”
“No, it’s okay,” I protested. “It’s… I mean, I’m used to it by now.” I gave her a weak smile. “At least I know Alyssa’s okay. That they’re both okay, I mean.”
“See you next month?” she asked.
“Yup,” I promised. “I’ll bring a main dish next time if we can schedule it on a day I don’t have practice.”
Despite the news about my mother’s strange phone call to my aunt, I was in a pretty good mood overall as I drove over the the strip mall that housed the empty storefront we rented as a practice space. I was well fed, I had spent time with the only real family I still had, and for the next couple of hours, I would be singing and playing music I loved.
I liked practices almost better than performing sometimes. There was something about talking techniques and different ways to play certain passages with people who were as passionate about music as I was. It fed a part of my soul that was intellectually engaged with the music as well as spiritually. As we moved through the set we had planned for our next performance, Kai, Emmy, and the others seemed to be enjoying the rehearsal as much as I was. By the time we were finished and I was packing up my bass, my troubles seemed far away, and I was feeling light and optimistic about our upcoming Denver gig at The Oasis.
I wandered out to my car, checked under the car to make sure no one was lurking outside it, then opened the rear door and set the bass case in the backseat. Since my Kia was old and crappy, I never bothered locking it, mostly because I didn’t want to have to pay for a broken window that would probably cost more than the car was even worth. Carter called goodbye to me from his van, and I waved back at him as he turned out of the parking lot and headed toward home. I pulled open the front door of my car and climbed, in, noticing that something crunched under me as I sat down on the seat. I reached under my butt and pulled out a now-crinkled square of paper. Keeping the door open so I could see what it was by the overhead light, I peered at it.
And dropped it like it was on fire when I realized what it was.
9
Cal
CAL
I barely made it inside my place before my pants were at my knees and I was stroking myself to completion in the front entryway. I leaned against the wall, my cock as hard as a wooden bat, remembering every last, hot detail of making Andi come under my hand. Her soft moans, the sharp cry as she climaxed, the taste of her on my fingers…
I thrust forward, my hand gripping my shaft tightly as it throbbed in my fist. Before I even knew how close I was, I gasped, and then I was coming, harder than I’ve come in years, making a huge fucking mess of the wood floor in front of me. I shut my eyes as the shudder moved through me, and had to lean against the wall so I wouldn’t fall over.
Holy fuck. It was a miracle I even made it home.
Still breathing hard, I peeled off my shirt and threw it on the floor, moving it around with my foot to mop up the mess I’d made. I’d clean it up better later, but a wave of exhaustion fell over me from coming so damn hard, and I just wanted to take a nap. I stepped out of my jeans and grabbed my clothes, then walked naked to my bedroom. I dumped my jeans on a chair, tossed the shirt in the laundry basket, and sat down on the bed. Not bothering to pull back the covers, I fell back and shut my eyes, and before I knew it I was sleeping like the dead.
When I finally woke up, it was almost three hours later and my stomach was rumbling. I pulled on my jeans and trudged to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. As I sat down at the kitchen table to eat it, I found my thoughts drifting back to Andi again. Jesus, when had any woman set up permanent camp in my mind like this? Probably never, I realized. My dick stiffened in my pants as I remembered again with satisfaction how the normally so cool and in-control Andi had thrown back her head and surrendered to her shaking climax under my hand. Good God, it was the sexiest fucking thing I’d ever seen.
When I’d finished my sandwich, I headed to the shower and turning on the water as hot as I could take it. As I soaped up, I imagined what I would do to Andi if I had her in there with me. I thought about running my hands over her water-slick breasts, tonguing the nipples to hardness as she moaned at my touch. I’d spread her legs and lift her up, pushing her back against the wall, then I’d thrust myself deep inside her. My balls ached at the thought. I’d fuck her hard, pushing myself inside her over and over until she was crying my name, her pussy pulsing around me as she climaxed.
My hand slid up and down my shaft as I pictured each delicious thrust. I gripped myself tightly and went faster, faster, as in my mind I thrust deeper inside her. With a loud shout, I emptied myself, coming so hard I heard it hit the wall.
Holy hell.
In a daze, I finished soaping up and shampooed my hair, then turned the temperature down and stood under the water for a few minutes, just enjoying the coolness on my skin. After I’d shut off the water and toweled myself dry, I decided to head over to the clubhouse and see what the brothers were up to. Half an hour later, I was shooting the shit with Trig and Moose and watching them try to beat each other at pool, a cold bottle of beer sweating in my hand.
“I bet this piece of shit fifty dollars he couldn’t best me,” Trig bragged, and so far, it looked like he was right. Moose was behind by two balls, and it looked like Trig’s next shot would be an easy one. After he sank that one, all that would be left was the eight ball.
“I gotta let him win,” Moose joked. “He loses fifty dollars, Eva’ll have his nuts in a vise.”
Trig laughed. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to preserve your sensitive manhood, brother.”
Trig had been the biggest pussy hound in the club until recently, and the fact that he had finally met his match and settled down was a huge source of amusement for the men who were still single. Luckily, Trig wasn’t at all bot
hered by the ribbing. He was so damn happy with Eva that nothing riled him anymore.
Trig had been like an older brother to me since I was a prospect, which I had needed early on. My own brother, Reed, had been AWOL for years, and my father was dead, so I had been running pretty wild with only a mom who couldn’t control me and a sister who seemed to exist only to try to break my balls. Trig took me under his wing, but more importantly, he treated me like an equal. I respected the hell out of him. It was great to see him so content now. And Eva, I had to admit, was pretty great. Not to mention hot as hell.
“Hey,” Moose said to me as he lined up his next shot. “You hear about the kid they caught dealing H at the high school?”
Heroin. Shit. “No. Jesus fuck.”
“Yeah.” Moose took his shot, which glanced off another ball and didn’t make it in. “Motherfucker,” he spat in disgust. “It’s some kid from the trailer park on the other side of town. Fifteen fuckin’ years old. Cops picked him up after one of the other kids narced on him. I guess he’s cooperating, but like we thought, he doesn’t know anything much about the guys above him. Only knows two guys, doesn’t know their names. Meets them in different places, doesn’t have a phone number. He can’t contact them, they just text him a code word from a different number every time.”
Trig swore. “Hope that fuckin’ kid hasn’t gotten himself addicted. He just bought himself a trip to juvie, at the very least.”
I felt a pang of sympathy for the boy. Hell, as wild as I’d been at that age, it could easily have been me. I tossed out a silent wish to the universe that whoever this kid was would get his shit together before he made a mistake that bought him a conviction as an adult offender. I was one of the few in our club that hadn’t done any time in prison, which was a minor miracle considering some of the shit I’d done back in the day. The thought of being locked away behind bars made me feel claustrophobic as hell.
STONE KINGS MOTORCYCLE CLUB: The Complete Collection Page 59
