by Nikki Wild
"That's a little presumptuous, don't you think? Assuming I'd want to see you again? What if this was the worst date of my life, and I plan on deleting your number?"
"It wasn't the worst date of your life," I said, challenging her by taking a step forward. "And you'll be memorizing my number."
Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at me. We stood in front of the restaurant, bundling ourselves against the late winter chill. I reached for her, wanting more than anything to get my hands on her ass and my lips on her skin. But she stopped me, one hand on my chest.
"Hm," she said. "I don't know, Sinner. I think this might be the point where you take me home, and we spend a few minutes in the front seat of your car, and you wait desperately for me to invite you up for coffee, but I don't and I make a quick getaway, leaving you all hot and bothered. How does that sound?"
She was smirking. God, she was cute. Annoying as fuck, but cute.
"Sounds like a plan," I said. "But man, when you describe it, it sounds so good that I kinda want to wait a little longer. You know, prolong the anticipation?"
"And what did you have in mind to kill time?" She asked, letting me inch closer, her lips parted.
"How about a beer?" I said, pointing over my shoulder with my thumb. The pool hall would be warm, and the alcohol would be more than welcome. I was already irresistible, but having a little extra help never hurt. She bit her lip, then nodded.
"I can get down with a beer," she said. "But only if you let me buy. After all, you did have to buy me two steaks."
"Deal," I said, and let her grab my hand, leading me into the bar. It was smoky and quiet and perfect. She went straight to the bar, ordered herself a vodka, and turned to me expectantly.
"Whiskey," I said. "Neat."
"Ugh," she said. "Confession time. I can't stand whiskey. Rye, bourbon, Scotch. Irish, Canadian. Doesn't matter. I've tried them all, and I hate them."
I shrugged.
"I could say the same about vodka, to be honest. Why the hell anyone would drink vodka straight is beyond me. I guess a mixed drink is one thing, but just on the rocks? I'd rather not."
She laughed and clinked her glass against mine.
"Vodka runs in my blood," she said with a steady diffidence. "I basically grew up drinking it."
"Healthy," I said. "Sounds like you come from a fine, upstanding family."
Her lips parted as though to speak, but something wild flashed across her eyes and she halted. She stood there, kind of frozen, for half a second. Then she covered it with a smile.
"You play?" She said, nodding towards the pool table. "I'm shit at pool, but I'm worse at darts."
"Well, how good are you at standing by the bar and talking?" I teased.
"Terrible," she said, and pushed me again in the direction of the pool table. She dug some change out of her purse and a few minutes later we were ready to play. She grabbed a cue that was a little too tall for her, and stood aside, letting me break. I sank two solids, then another, then missed.
She didn't talk much, just watched me move, like she was trying to learn some trick or something. Slowly, she walked around the table. Twice. Looking for an angle she could work. When she chose one and bent at the hips, cue slipping between her fingers, I couldn't just stand by and watch.
"Baby, don't kill me for saying this, but you're holding that stick all kinds of wrong."
The minute the words left my mouth, my body went rigid. So did hers. She looked up at me from her bent-over position, and a very vivid memory swept across the backs of my eyes. Of that ass, grinding against me, on a night not terribly long ago. When I'd fucked with her date. I felt my lips spreading in the kind of smile you only get a few times in your life.
"Ho-lee shit," I said, expecting her to react in some way. Well, she was reacting. But it wasn't the kind of reaction I expected. She looked a little scared, honestly. Her eyes on me, over her pool cue, were wide and shaking. Her lips hung open. Her knuckles were going white from holding the cue. "What? I mean, you remember me, right?"
"Um," she squeaked out. "Yeah - yeah, I do."
She straightened up fast, dropping the cue to the felt table. Her shoulders rose then lowered in a slump. She groaned, loud and long, and raked her fingers over her face.
"I remember you," she said, peeking out through those long, lickable fingers. "I remember you."
"Okay," I said, walking towards her, more than a little confused. Alright; so we had met before, and our energy back then was just as hot as it was now. Maybe I'd really screwed shit up for her that night, and she hated me for it? But hell, two years was a long time to hold a grudge, wasn't it? "What's wrong? That guy dump you after I showed him up? Lucy, you're acting like..."
That hand of hers. On my chest again. Halting me. Holding me at arms length. I was getting a little tired of that. Dammit, she wanted me. I could feel it baking off her in waves. What the hell was her problem? There was playing hard to get, and there was...this.
"Just...stop," she said, and blinked up at me. "You're with Rogue Tide, aren't you?"
Oh. Oh. So that's what her problem was? She had an issue with my patch? Well, damn. That just might be a deal-breaker after all. It was entirely possible that she'd crossed paths with my club before, and been left worse off for it. Or just plain had a bug up her ass about consorting with criminals. I could understand those issues, though hell if I was going to accept defeat without a fight.
"What's it to you?" I finally said, carefully, meeting her eye and trying to show I was ready to be sympathetic, if that's what she needed. Finally, she smiled. But no kind of smile I like to see. She seemed to be making some internal decision. She blinked, and stuck her hand out. I looked at it, confused.
"Nice to meet you," she said. "I'm Lucya Maximovich."
Oh, fuck.
Chapter 9
Lucya
Whelp. At least he was sharp enough to see it without me needing to explain it.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "You're shitting me?"
"Afraid not," I said.
"How did you..." he ran a hand through his blonde hair, still too surprised to display any other emotion. "Shit."
"So," I said, gulping the rest of my vodka. Lord knows I needed it. "I guess this is where I leave you."
Fuck! Why'd he have to be that kind of bad boy? Why couldn't he have been the kind of bad boy who looked the part without actually playing the part? Why, of all things, did he have to be a Tide? Dating outside Alexei's pre-approved ring of Bratva men was one thing - dating one of the guys who'd just stolen ten grand worth of drugs from us was another. There was no getting around it. If anyone saw us together...
Oh, god. Panicked, I spun around, taking stock of the bar. I didn't recognize anyone, but what about the restaurant? Alexei had eyes all over town.
"Wait, hold on," Sinner was saying, grabbing my arm. It felt really nice, that kind of strong manliness every woman appreciates, but I shook him off. We were in deep enough. No need to dig any deeper. "So what?"
"So what?" I spun back to face him. "So what? My uncle is the man you stole a hundred grand’s worth of drugs from!"
"Oh, come on," he said, reaching for me again. I hopped out of reach. What the fuck? How could he not see the danger in this? Was he dumb enough to think his club's actions were water under the bridge? Did he think that I would ever be welcome in his crowd, or that he'd ever be welcome in mine? Did he think Alexei wouldn't shoot him on sight, just for buying me a drink? "Let's not overreact."
OK, yeah, he did think all those things. Maybe he wasn't so sharp after all.
"I'm not overreacting," I snapped. "I've really gotta go. I'm getting an Uber and..."
"Well, I can drive you home at least," he said, eyes flashing with annoyance.
"Yeah, brilliant," I snorted. "Drive yourself right into enemy territory. Real clever, Sinner. I mean, you do have a daughter who wants her Daddy to stay alive."
"Mind if we leave my daughter out of this?" he growled, a
nd I gasped as he snatched my phone out of my hand. For a second, I just stared up at him, dumbfounded.
Then I was on him, leaping to try and wrestle my phone back from where he held it high over his head. This brought me dangerously close to his hard chest, his heat, the smell of him infecting my senses. We performed a kind of sloppy waltz, him taking the lead, until I found myself pinned to the pool table.
He shoved the phone into his back pocket, but when I reached around to grab it he held my wrists in his hands. My heart was beating wildly, my skin flushed. Was this how he would fuck me, if we got that far? Hard and ruthless? Would he go straight for the kill, forcing himself against and through me, taking what he wanted? The thought had me panting; his touch had me tingling. Unable to help myself, I groaned. His hips were against mine, his posture forcing me to arch my back so that my breasts pressed to his chest.
"I just want you," he began, making excellent use of a pause, "to calm down. Let's talk this through. Okay, so you're with the Bratva. And I'm with the Tide. We hate each other, blah blah blah. But do you hate me, Lucy? Because I know you don't."
Fuck those gray eyes. Of course I didn't hate him. Quite the fucking opposite. I liked him. A lot. A whole lot. I grunted something that wasn't a yes or a no. It was just a grunt. My body struggled feebly; my heart wasn't in it. Because my heart was firmly lodged in my throat, choking me. Or maybe that was just the lust of being pinned and dominated by this man who smelled like leather and whiskey. This man who was dangerous for me in more ways than one.
"Now, maybe this is a bad idea," he said, backing up just a little bit. His eyes fell to my hairline and he used one thick finger to brush a stray bang back into place. "But I happen to eat bad ideas for breakfast. They're my favorite kind of ideas."
"Please," I said; now that I had one wrist free, I used it to put my hand on his chest. "Don't. Do this."
"Do what?" he said, using his weight to push further. His silver eyes caught mine and wouldn't let me go. "Because I just remembered, I've wanted to kiss you for two years. That's a long time to wait, babe."
One hand wrapped around my waist, curling onto my hip, as he leaned down and kissed me. I melted. Like ice cream on a hot sidewalk, I melted. Cream and sugar sliding through my body, sweetening my blood, making me dizzy. His kiss was deep and hard and tender all at the same time. His beard scratched my skin, but only enough to make me want more. I wasn't aware of my hands moving, but they did. Up, burying in his hair, pulling him down. One thigh parting, wrapping, a wet and throbbing need between my legs.
Legs that I should be using to walk away as fast as humanly possible.
Pushing Sinner away took more will power than actual force. He let me push him back, gave me room to breathe. He was smirking. Like he'd won. And maybe he had, kind of. But no. No. This really, really couldn't happen. I didn't trust anyone involved - not Alexei, not Sinner, not Sinner's biker buddies, not myself.
"Sinner, I'm so sorry," I said, daring myself to grab his hand. "That was amazing. This whole night...amazing. But no. Sinner, if someone saw us, I couldn't protect you. Do you understand? And it wouldn't be just you that needed protection. He could make something terrible happen to me, for betraying the family."
Sinner's gaze darkened. Thank god, I was finally getting through to him.
"He could destroy you, Sinner," I persisted. "And everyone you love. You don't want to bring Amy into this? Then don't. Let me walk away. We need to end this before..."
I dropped his hand, shaking my head to show him that I didn't know what the future held, but I knew it wouldn't be good.
"We could try to make it work," he said. "Meet in private. Lucy, I...fucking shit, I like the hell out of you. And I think we could be good together. And you know I'm not gonna sleep worth a damn until I get to feel you. Really feel you. You feel me?"
Oh, did I ever. He was inching forward again. Seducing me with those awful eyes of his, and those lips, a newly-discovered continent my mouth ached to explore. I groaned again, stomping my foot and throwing my head back. Maybe acting like a pre-teen having a tantrum would make all these adult feelings go away.
"Please!" I said. "Don't torture me!"
"Then come with me," he said, lunging forward, wrapping me up again. "Just tonight. One night. I'll take you somewhere no one could ever find us. And when it's done, you walk away, I walk away. We look back and we say that at least we know what we’re missing."
I bit my lip, knowing that if I looked up at him, if I made eye contact, it would be over. I'd do anything he said. My body wouldn't let me refuse. God, his arms felt good around me. Strong. Like he could protect me.
But is that what I really wanted? Just one night? One night with him wouldn't be enough. It would only leave me hungry for more.
Better to be hungry for more than never know what it tastes like, said some deep, dark voice inside me. I looked up, sealing my fate. Still biting my lip, I nodded.
Chapter 10
Lucya
We managed to get to the hotel without burning our clothes off with the friction between our bodies, but once we were in that hallway with the key in his hand, all bets were off. Once we were out of the clerk's line of sight, he was on me again. His hands grabbing and squeezing, lips laying waste to mine, tongue tasting everything. My pussy was wet - dripping. Clawing at his shoulders, his back muscles rippling under my palms, he slammed me against the elevator doors, letting go of me only long enough to push the call button.
I broke away, breathless, forcing him back so I wouldn't fall backwards into the elevator when the doors slid open. I could see his hardness under his pants; and holy fuck, did it feel impressive. I'd only been with a few men before, and it had been a long time since I hopped into anyone's bed. But it wasn't inexperience or desperation that convinced me he was packing heat. It was the fact that the hardness went halfway down his thigh.
He caught me looking and grabbed a handful of my hair, forcing me to look up at his grin. The elevator dinged and he walked me backwards, slamming the door button even as he pushed me to the wall. Two floors weren’t a long enough ride. Not the way Sinner grabbed my thighs and pulled me up, spreading them as he planted his lips on my neck and bit gently. I moaned, grinding against him, my panties threatening to disintegrate.
Another ding, and we were whirling down the hall, through an anonymous door, into an anonymous room.
Where, finally, he let go.
"I need you to understand something," he said, panting, eyes all wolf. "From here on out, I'm in charge."
Something like a protest landed on my lips, but I swallowed it. My body was too damn hot to do anything but agree. And the thought of being at his mercy was only getting me hotter.
"You do what I say," he went on, stalking forward, towering over me. I gasped as he reached behind me and ripped my zipper down; my dress fell to a pile around my ankles. In the chill of the room and the fever of my flesh, my nipples were hard, my skin goosebumped.
"Why should I?" I challenged as he went to work on my bra, barely touching me but still making me shudder. He got my bra off, my breasts spilling forward, heavy and aching with need. He took one last step forward, put a hand on my lower back, and grabbed one breast in his massive paw. I melted, slipping forward into his embrace, arching my back to give him full access to my chest.
"Because I promise," he murmured against my flesh. "You won't regret it."
I let out a squeal as he threw me down onto the bed. He knelt between my thighs, covering my body with his, reaching for my breasts again. I lifted myself to my palms, letting him knead and massage my flesh. Every time he brushed my hard nipples, my clit throbbed in response. My head thrown back, hair spilling down my spine, I moaned as he lowered his lips to my flesh, sucking my tender skin into his mouth, one at a time. He cupped my breasts from below, rubbing my nipples with his thumbs while he moved from one to the other, his warm, wet mouth driving me wild.
I whimpered.
"Lay back," he demand
ed, pulling back. His hands grabbed at my panties, tearing the elastic waistband as he yanked them down. The cold air brushing over my pussy was like a knife to the ribs, and I squirmed.
"Lay...the fuck...back."
He pushed on my chest until my head hit the pillow. A second later, his lips hit skin and any protest left in me died on my lips. Closing my eyes, I felt the steady rise in my body temperature as he kissed his way up my inner thigh, his hands scaling up my legs.
My heart beat fast in my chest, my slit dewy and tingling with anticipation. When I felt his mouth curve into the hollow between my hip and my pussy, I moaned and thrust my hips upward in wanton desperation. He chuckled, hands on my waist to hold me down as he hovered over my spread sex. I could feel the heat of his breath against me. It felt like the whole world was silent, shrunk down to fit in the beat of my heart and the feel of him between my legs, waiting for the perfect moment. A predator.
He used his fingers first, splitting my lips with them, slowly drawing a fingertip between my folds and making my pussy clench. He drew the finger up, right under my clit, and then paused. I struggled against his grip, but he held me tight, unwilling to give me an inch of space to move my hips and force my way against his mouth. Instead, he slipped that finger right back down, until it was pressed against my slit.
"Fuck," he grit out. "Fucking beautiful. So hot and wet..."
He proved it with that finger, pressing into my center as my mouth opened in a cry of pained pleasure. Finally, he leaned in, wrapping my clit in his tongue. Everything lit on fire as he began to show me just what it meant to be under his control.
Grabbing the headboard, I clung for dear life as he fucked me senseless using only a finger and his tongue. He pressed another finger inside me while his tongue darted over my throbbing clit, filling me and pumping against my walls like he had a map of where to touch to make me scream - my pussy clamped down on his fingers, a slow shockwave began to ripple through me. I thought I could even feel his taste buds, the swirl of his fingerprints, as he forced me to a peak.
