Biker Daddy (A Rogue Tide Motorcycle Club Romance)

by Nikki Wild

  "Hey man," he said.

  "Yeah," I said, trying not to sound like I was groaning. I was.

  "Listen, I don't want to...no one thinks..."

  Words failed him. Fair enough. I put a hand on his shoulder, clapping him hard.

  "It's alright, man," I said. "We'll talk some other time."

  "You going to see her?"

  He asked the question without any judgement. I couldn't tell if I was projecting, or just picking up on some low-level disappointment in his voice.

  "Maybe," I said. "She might come over."

  "She better," he said with a half-smile. "After what this is putting you through."

  "Hey," I said, the next words hurting my stomach. "You talked to Army?"

  Tusk looked away for a second, mouth parted like the answer was hurting him, too.

  "He'll come around," he said at last. But he didn't meet my eyes when he turned back to me.

  No matter what Train decided, I realized, I'd have to get used to that. Eye contact had never been a luxury before, but I didn't think people would be handing it out like candy anymore.

  I needed to get out of there. I needed to know it wasn't all a waste of time, and the only way to do that was to see her. I realized I was forcing a lot to ride on that girl's shoulders, but this time, I thought, she could handle it. She'd handled me before. And if I got my hands on her, things would be alright again. For a little while, at least, things would be perfect.

  Chapter 38

  Lucya

  "I can't believe you're really going straight to him," Alyona said, watching me hobble around my room. My room. Why did it look so different? It hadn't been that long since I was last here. There was still the ever-present lump of soon-to-be-garbage at the foot of the bed, the same ornate antique rug, the same wooden vanity with its huge mirror and mess of make-up products. But it didn't feel like my room anymore, somehow. Like I'd changed too much from the woman I was even a month ago.

  Maybe I had.

  "Of course I am," I said, looking over my shoulder at her as I slipped on a dress. My leg was bandaged. I had to be careful with it, the flesh still sore, but I was going to be just fine. Nothing more than a flesh wound, really. "Aly, I got locked in a room for days, thought he was dead, was held at gunpoint, and got shot - because I love him. What on earth makes you think I wouldn't go straight to him?"

  "Uh, because loving him got you locked in a room for days, held at gunpoint, and shot?" She retorted, arms crossed.

  "Why are you so against this?" I asked. "You have been, since the beginning. It's over now, Aly. Alexei is dead. We're burying him tomorrow. Daniil is in charge, and he's okay with it. So why aren't you?"

  She seemed reluctant to answer that, her eyes darting away. She shifted uncomfortably where she stood. I waited for an answer, not willing to let this go. I needed her to be okay with this. At the end of the day, even with all I'd been through to be with Sinner, Aly's opinion still mattered to me.

  "Before Alexei found out..." she started to say at last, then sighed. Her cheeks went bright red. "I called him. I looked through your phone, found his number, and called him."

  "What?" I asked, turning to face her. "Why on earth did you do that? What did you say?"

  "I left a message," she said. "I told him that you were dangerous, to stay away from you. I didn't tell him who I was, but he figured it out."

  She looked down at her feet. I watched as her petulant frustration turned to shame.

  "You were trying to protect me," I said, shaking my head. "Dammit, Aly. I hate that you did that. But it doesn't matter anymore. I'm not going to be mad at you for it. Real bitch move, but I guess I understand."

  She looked up at me, cheeks still red, eyes watery.

  "What about him?" She asked in a quiet voice. "Does he hate me?"

  I sighed, pinching the bridge of my noise. Knowing Sinner, maybe he kind of did. But he would also realize that she was just trying to protect me, and that it was all over now - so there was no use in holding this grudge against her.

  "I don't know," I said honestly. "But if he does, he won't for long. You're my sister. He knows what you mean to me. If he wants me, he'll forgive you."

  "If?" Aly said, slumping down onto the bed. "You think he doesn't? He almost killed his buddy for you. I think it's a little stupid to ask if he wants you."

  "Yeah," I said slowly, turning around so she couldn't see the look on my face. "That's true."

  The fact was, I wasn't sure what it meant that he held his fellow Tide at gunpoint. But I had the feeling it didn't mean anything good. Not for him, at least, and his position within the Rogue Tide. That club was his family. What if this whole fucking mess led to an even bigger fucking mess? What if it came down to a choice - me or them? Who would he choose? And if he chose me, what kind of resentment would that leave in his heart?

  I couldn't afford to think about all that just then, though. Not with the way my heart and body yearned for him. Just the deepest sense of need, deeper than any fear for the future. I could close my eyes and smell him if I tried hard enough. And that's just what I did. Until I heard the knock on my door.

  "Come in," I called, as Aly and I both turned to see who was entering. Deda's frame filled the doorway. It was my first time seeing him since that day - only the day before, actually, but it felt like forever. Daniil told me he that he went to bed shortly after the chaos died down, and he hadn't risen since.

  Shooting your last living child will do that to you.

  "Deda," I said softly, and flew to him. He held his arms open to embrace me, smelling like cough drops and Novaya Zarya cologne. He let me go after a moment, holding me at arm's length. I didn't know what to say to him. He looked a million years older than a week ago. What do you say to a man who put a bullet in his son's head?

  "Was that the man you love?" he asked, point-blank. "The one I saw with Daniil?"

  It was hard to remember in detail what had happened, where people stood, while I was held hostage. But I nodded, thinking that Deda must have realized that the only Rogue Tide who would protest to me being used as leverage was the one I loved. Deda studied me.

  "He looked strong," he said. "He looked like a man who loved you."

  "I think he is," I nodded.

  "That's alright, then," Deda sighed. "That's good, then."

  We fell silent for a moment. I wanted to ask if he was alright, but what possible answer could he give me?

  "It's not your fault," he finally said. "Alexei was not good for us. He needed to go. I don't regret it. I only regret that it got to such a point before something was done."

  "Deda..."

  "It was never your fault," Deda said again, softly. "It's never love's fault, zvyozdochka."

  He seemed so tired that even that little speech left him with slumped shoulders and distant eyes. He grabbed my head, pulling me towards him until his lips met my forehead, feeling papery and dry. And then he released me, turning around and shuffling out the door. Back to bed, maybe, to try and sleep away his grief. Tomorrow, we would bury his son. I looked back at Alyona, who hid her eyes behind a veil of her fingers, shaking her head. My family was broken and hurting. Whether or not it was my fault was not the issue.

  But I still had to go to Sinner.

  I owed it to him, and to myself - and to everyone caught between us. A lot of people had gotten caught between us. A lot of wounds would take a long time to heal. But my deepest wound was in my heart, and seeing him was the only way to heal it.

  Chapter 39

  Lucya

  "Jesus," Sinner said, opening the door. He shook his head slowly. "Woman, seeing you on the other side of an open door never gets old."

  My heart hitched at the sight of him. Would that ever go away?

  Knowing what it felt like to be told he was dead - to think he was dead - the awful pain of that...

  No. I couldn't imagine that I'd ever stop feeling like the whole world stopped spinning when I saw him. I didn't want to sto
p feeling that way.

  "I could say the same, cowboy," I said, moving forward. "Gonna let me in?"

  I had every intention of taking things slow. I didn't know if Amy was home. I hadn't even ever been to his apartment before, and was curious about what it looked like. I meant to talk to him, find out what happened after he left me in the hospital, tell him about Daniil and the Bratva. I meant to do all these things before kissing him.

  It was a spectacular failure.

  I barely even crossed the threshold before he had me in his arms, clutching my small frame to his massive one, my head in his chest while his chin rested on my hair. I could hear his heartbeat. I could smell him. The world that stopped spinning when I saw him suddenly started moving too fast. I couldn't catch my breath, I was so suffocated by the sensation of his strong muscles wrapped around me.

  "Is she here?" I asked, words muffled by his shirt.

  "Not yet," he said. "She will be, in a few hours. Birthday party."

  I fought my way from his chest, lifting my chin to meet his eyes.

  "Then take me to your bedroom," I said. "Now."

  "Think you can even wait that long?" he teased, smirking down at me. I grabbed a handful of his t-shirt and pulled.

  "Barely," I breathed. "Don't tease me, Sinner. I thought you were dead. Take. Me. To. Your. Bedroom."

  He got the picture, and put his hands on my hips, closing his mouth over mine as he began to take wide steps down the hallway. The taste of him killed me. I grabbed his head in both hands, savoring the feel of his lips pressed to mine. Before it got heavier, hotter, wetter, I just wanted it like that. Slow, steady, and perfect.

  I felt something hard hit my back, and Sinner let go of me long enough to twist a doorknob. The hard thing disappeared, and he walked me backwards again. Now, he showed his impatience, his temperature rising under my palms, his tongue pressing to my lips. I moaned and parted my mouth, letting him in. I barely got a look at the room, but what I saw wasn't barely interesting enough to distract me from the way my body responded to him. A bed, a dresser, whatever.

  His tongue filled my mouth, hot and greedy, his body pressing forward until my knees hit the bed. I expected to fall onto my back, but I didn't. He wasn't going to let me fall. One hand grabbed my ass, the other pulled at my thighs, and then I was wrapped up around him, my injured leg dangling uselessly on the side as the other wrapped around his thigh.

  He was hard already, and I knew I was wet. Maybe I'd been wet since I laid eyes on him again. He knelt onto the bed, positioning me underneath him. I could almost feel the restraint in his biceps as he took his time with my body, pulling back, hands on the upper curve of my waist, under my breasts.

  But by the time he was done with my button-up shirt, it didn't have buttons anymore. And by the time he was done with my skirt, it would never zip again. He grabbed for my bra but I had to stop him there.

  "It's expensive," I said, and leaned up to kiss him again as I undid it, letting my breasts fall free between us. They felt cold, my nipples hard as diamonds, against his heated chest. I let one hand travel up his torso, pulling the fabric of his shirt along, but he grabbed my wrist again and pinned them down before taking his shirt off. The broad white bandages that covered his wound hurt my eyes. Was he moving so slowly and carefully because of my injury, or his? I reached for the bandage, my eyes questioning him.

  "Don't even feel it," he growled, grabbing my hand away. His knees pressed my thighs wide. He towered over me, even on his knees he was a giant, so broad and muscled that I almost should have been afraid of him. Afraid he'd break me as he leaned down and filled his fingers with my hair.

  "I don't want to hurt you," he murmured, hand on my hip to hold me down.

  "I do," I hissed. Fuck the pain in my leg. It would hurt more to be apart from him now. His cock, hard beneath his jeans, rubbed me so perfectly that I arched my back. He looked down at me, eyes on mine, studying my need. "Love me until it hurts, Sinner."

  Groaning, he put his lips on my flesh, kissing my jawline, my collarbone, the upper swell of my breasts. My nipples strained with desire, puckered as they stood upright and begged for his tongue. The hand on my hip traced upward until it met the bottom of my breast, cupping it and moving it up to meet his mouth.

  Sucking me between his lips, it was like he was squeezing all of me into a coil of pleasure. I held his head to my breast, feeling his tongue flicking, his warm breath going cold as he blew it over my moist skin, moving from breast to breast until I was raw and squirming in lust.

  "Inside me," I grunted. "Now."

  "Slow," he murmured against my skin. But he put one strong hand between my legs, against the thin fabric of my panties, making them trace my sex. "Wanna go slow..."

  I reached between us, fumbling with his belt and his zipper. Clumsy, needy. He wrapped a hand around my wrist and pulled it back, pinning me again, always pinning me. He undid himself, revealing that nine-inch monster that made me scream.

  I grabbed it before he could stop me, and he groaned in surrender. Throbbing and pulsing against my palm, I used it to pull him down over me. Pulling my panties to the side, hips rising from the bed, I took the control I always gave him. This was my man. Back from the fucking dead. He wasn't going to make me wait for what I needed. Not tonight. Gasping, I thrust until he was inside me.

  "Every inch," I moaned, head digging into the bed as my body rose and he thrust forward into me. It hurt in the most beautiful way, taking my breath away as he pressed against my womb. I could see him snarl above me, holding back from fucking me as hard as his instinct told him to. His hips withdrew, slipped forward again, slowly.

  He grabbed my breast with one hand, the other going under my lower back to lift my hips and send himself deeper. Sweat pooled on my collarbone and he leaned in to lick it off, all the while taking me gently, slowly. Still afraid of what he could do to me. I smelled him, man and leather, grabbed his neck and pulled him down against me. I wanted him to crush me, break my ribcage, go straight for my heart. Moaning, I moved as much as I could underneath him, my leg shooting sharp pain that was eclipsed by the pleasure of him filling me.

  "Stop holding back," I whispered. "Fuck me like you mean it."

  "Your funeral," he grinned, already thrusting harder and faster. Driving his hips against me, his stomach rubbed and ground against my clit. His teeth latched down on my neck. Everything inside me began to pulse, a bright flashing ache that got closer and closer to bursting with each stroke. My muscles strained with tension, my cheeks on fire, my toes curling. I dug my nails into his broad back and cried his name until he wasn't holding back anymore, he was fucking me like he needed to fuck me to live.

  "I want...you...to cum," he growled in my ear. Grabbed my hair and pulled, my eyes wide as they met his and melted. "Now."

  "Yes," I moaned, the whole world snapping in two. I came in a flood, that ache erased by a pleasure so pure it was white in my eyes, blanking my mind. His body shuddered against mine, feeling the spasms of my pussy clenching around his cock. "Please, Sinner, with me, now, please..."

  The warmth of his seed pouring into me was everything. Pumping himself deeper and deeper with each burst, his cum coated my slit, painting my pleasure in new and brilliant shades. I'd never felt closer to him, nothing was like the feeling of him, releasing himself inside me, bare and free to claim my body as his. I would never let anyone touch me like he touched me. No one ever had, and no one ever would.

  Chapter 40

  Sinner

  Having her in my arms again was like finding your favorite photograph, perfectly intact, after your house burns down.

  A good analogy, since I was feeling pretty damn homeless.

  The light had slipped away quickly. Spring was already here, but it wouldn't truly show up for another couple of weeks. Amy had come home from that birthday party so exhausted that she fell right to sleep; not even seeing Lucya again could compel her to stay up.

  Watching her sleep had given us the
same idea. Right back to bed, where we now lay in silence. There was nothing to say between us. Not just then, at least. In truth, there was plenty to say. Too much to say. But our bodies had said enough already to last us a while.

  At least, that's what I thought.

  "What's wrong?" she asked, and I looked down to realize she was looking up at me.

  "What do you mean?" I said, hearing a defensive edge in my voice. "Nothing's wrong. You're here, my kid's alright, everything's fine."

  "No, it's not," she said, lifting up onto an elbow, her breasts curving softly against my skin. "I know you. There's something up. Is it about that guy - Army?"

  My gut turned. Of course it is, I thought, an awful flash of anger taking over. But only for a second. I couldn't be mad at her for that. For what I did because I loved her. I stroked her back, looking up into her face.

  "You're angry," she said. So she saw that, too. How did she see so fucking much? Because she loves you, too, you idiot. I sighed.

  "I'm not angry," I said. "Things are just a little strained right now."

  "A little?" she asked, dubious. God, couldn't she just drop it? I didn't want to talk about it. Not with her, not with anyone. "Sinner, please. We didn't go through all that shit just to hide things from each other. I need to know if..."

  She looked away then, but I could figure out what she meant to say, and it hurt me to my core.

  "It's nothing you did," I said. "I'm in some hot water, babe. I shouldn't have pulled my gun on Army. Train's pissed, everyone's pissed."

  She kept looking away. I wished she'd look at me, so I could see what the fuck was happening in her brain. Her fingers came to my chest, tracing my tattoos.

  "Are they going to forgive you?" she asked. "Family forgives, right?"

  "I hope so," I said, feeling like I was being pressed down into a pancake as the possible future swept through me. "Maybe not. Maybe they'll take my patch."

  "Because of me," she said, still looking away, voice cracking. Her body was tense and overly warm. "Shit, Sinner. What are you going to do if...?"