Chasing Down Changes (Moroad Motorcycle Club)

by Debra Kayn

  The vein at the base of her slim neck pulsed. He leaned in closer. "You could've thrown me away today, and you kept me. That meant a lot to me, baby."

  She looked away and slowly turned, walking out of the room. Her strut a little unsteady. Her hands fidgeted in worry. He bit down on his lip, aching in places he'd never hurt before over wanting her.

  He took his need for her and fueled it into patience. Everything would work out in time. The club came first, and the extortion money they pulled from Blues, Reds, and Los Li supported every member inside and out. He'd learn the ins and outs of Red Light, and keep Bantorus MC far enough away from the business to satisfy them.

  The sheriff of Federal remained the wildcard.

  Sheriff Colby mentioned retiring soon. Two years were nothing in Jeremy's world. What would happen after Tiff lost protection from the good side of the law?

  He moved through the tables scattered around the room and sat in a chair near the front of the stage. His cock, hard and seeking attention after being in the same vicinity as Tiff—smelling her, touching her, seeing her — protested the position. He grabbed his crotch and rearranged himself into a more comfortable position, stretching out one leg to give himself more room. He planned on a nice and slow night.

  Twenty minutes later, the click of heels on the wood floor grew louder as the women filed out the backdoor and silence rolled into the room. He clasped his hands behind his head and watched the opening to the room, ready for when Tiff made her appearance.

  She strolled into the room. He lowered his arms, letting his hands lay on his thighs. The sway of her hips hypnotized him. All the blood in his body gathered and pounded in his cock, screaming for him to look at the woman coming toward him.

  Fuck, he was looking.

  He couldn't look away.

  Tiff came to him a woman with moves that she'd failed to achieve when she was twenty years old. Moves that mystified him, because he never imagined in all the years of picturing her in his head that she would ever have patience and the experience of a woman who understood how to work her body.

  He recognized the upturned corner of her mouth. The sexy slant of her eyes. The hands that continually touched her stomach because she was aware of what she was doing and she wanted him to look.

  She wanted him to take her.

  She wanted him to satisfy her need to be loved.

  God, he missed her smile and laughter. The way she used to look at him all serious and suddenly burst out in laughter, making him feel as if nothing fucking mattered except keeping her happy.

  "Stop." He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to wait. "Turn around."

  She tilted her head in silent question and hesitantly pivoted. He gazed at the slope of her hips. Her ass pushed at the tight dress while she shifted from one foot to the other. The solid, slim legs he'd had wrapped around his waist, his thighs, his head.

  "Jeremy?" she whispered.

  He rubbed his hands on this thighs, unable to take his gaze off her backside. "Yeah, baby?"

  "I need to tell you something." Her hands disappeared in front of her and came back into view clenched.

  "Turn around," he said.

  She shook her head. "It's easier if I don't look at you."

  He ran his hand down his beard. "I scare you."

  He stated the truth, stopping her from admitting her fear. Since he'd been back, he'd noticed more than her body language and heard more in her words than she willingly gave him. What he failed to understand was after the time they'd spent together talking, fucking, adjusting to a new routine, why she'd still be scared of him.

  "You've changed." Her upper body expanded with her breath. "You're bigger."

  "You had me in your body."

  "I know," she answered quickly. "That's not what I'm saying. You don't budge. You're like this huge person who controls every aspect of your life now. There's no way I can fight against you. Not like I used to. Everyone you come in contact with jumps when you move, either to do what you've said or to stay out of your way. I've seen your dad, Jeremy. He's listening to you. Before you left, he was the bigger person, and now he's looking at you as if what you say needs to be heard."

  He frowned. "Turn around."

  "No." Her hands lifted and then fell against her sides in defeat. "I don't know where I fit in with you. You put off this bigger attitude that I'm not used to and it..."

  "Turn the fuck around now," he said.

  She swiveled on her heel and looked at him. "Can I finish before you get mad?"

  He nodded.

  "You scare me, but—"

  "But what?"

  She tapped the spike of her heel against the floor. "Stop interrupting me."

  "You're doing a hell of a job telling me the way I am now turns you on." He chuckled. "That's not fear making you shake, baby. I'd bet my freedom that your panties are wet."

  "I hate you," she whispered, succumbing to the emotions overwhelming her and cupping her elbows.

  "Good." His voice came out deep and raw, scratching his throat. "Cause the same passion that makes you hate my guts and makes you believe you want to kill me comes from the same reason you stood up to the deputy and lied your little heart out to keep me out of prison."

  "You have no idea why I do anything." She lifted her chin.

  He unbuckled his belt, undid the buttons on his jeans, and lifted his ass off the chair high enough to slide the material down and freed his cock. "Then show me why you want to keep me."

  She stepped forward and stopped. He pushed back the edges of his vest. Her hesitation ended tonight.

  "You have one second to get your ass over here, or I'm going to stand up and bend you over the table at your side and take my fill." He growled when she remained too far away from him. "Now."

  She hurried over and stood between his spread legs. His chest warmed, and he reached out and ran his hand up her smooth leg, under her dress, and hooked her thigh bringing it over his right leg.

  "Give me your other leg." He brought her hands to his shoulder and helped her straddle his lap. "Stand there."

  He dragged his gaze from the material puddled over his legs, up to her stomach, her breasts, and finally her eyes. "You've changed, too."

  He gasped each side of her waist and lifted, and brought her down on his lap, tugging her ass closer until they were chest to breasts.

  "What do you have on under your dress?" he asked, roaming his hands over her thighs and pushing up the silky material.

  She moistened her lips. "Panties."

  He slipped his hand between her legs and curled his finger under the elastic of her underwear. "We'll keep them on."

  She nodded, panting for breath. "Condom?"

  He brushed the back of his fingers along her heat. "Wallet."

  She reached down, grabbed his chain, and pulled the wallet out of his pocket. He used her wetness to part her pussy, wanting to sink inside of her.

  Her hands shook, and she fumbled getting the condom. He used his free hand and caught her wrist. "Baby?"

  Her gaze snapped to his. "I'm sorry."

  "For what?"

  She dropped her chin. "I don't know what you want."

  "You."

  "But what do you want me to do?" She tugged on the chain. "I can't even unsnap your wallet without struggling."

  "I'm in no rush." He slid his finger inside of her.

  She gasped, arching her back. "I can't breathe."

  "Yes, you can." He moved in and out. "We spent a week having sex. I'm not doing anything that we haven't done before."

  Her back went rigid, and she scrambled to get his wallet, spilling cash, and finally pulled out the condom. "We haven't had sex like this or in this room before. You're freaking me out."

  "Scared?"

  "Shit." She ripped open the wrapper and dropped the package. "No. No..."

  "What are you freaking out for then?"

  She stilled and her glazed eyes stared back at him. "I'm going to come. I swear to God.
I'm going to lose it right now just sitting on your lap because..."

  He rubbed her clit.

  "Oh, shit." She shuddered. "Jeremy."

  "Yeah?"

  "Jeremy." She stared at him, holding herself perfectly still.

  He parted her pussy and inserted a finger while he rubbed her with his thumb. "I'm right here, baby."

  "I..." She reached out and grabbed his shoulder, digging her nails into his vest.

  Her muffled scream gave way to her repeating his name, over and over. Her sex squeezed down on his finger, coating them with her wetness. Sweat broke out on his forehead. His pulse echoed in his cock, throbbing to be inside of her and selfish enough he wanted to give her an orgasm and witness the pleasure beating her control.

  Always, she'd come at a touch, a stroke, a word. And, damn if he wasn't proud of the fact he could still bring her to orgasm with barely a finger inside of her.

  She exhaled loudly and collapsed against him. He absorbed the tremors in her legs while holding her against him with one arm and continuing to caress between her legs.

  Her hot breath tickled his ear, curling his toes. "Condom?" he said.

  She slipped her arm between them and batted at his cock, uncoordinated and sex-drunk. He growled in her ear, removed his hand from inside her panties, and grabbed the condom from her grasp. Blind to what he needed to do, he rolled the latex on his dick out of a need to be inside of her.

  "Sit up," he ordered, almost undone by the delirious aftermath gazing at him with a sexy smile on her face.

  He lifted her ass higher and brought her forward, positioning her pussy at the head of his cock and let her weight down on him with a groan. His ass clenched and he thrust up from the chair, holding her on his lap.

  She moaned, finally lifting her arms, and grabbed onto his shoulders. He looked down at their bodies joined. From the glow of the lights in the background, he had a view of her open and taking him, inch by inch.

  Her breathing accelerated, and her thighs came to life. He gripped her ass, lifting, lowering. The pressure of her body stroked him off. His balls tightened and heated. He dug the heels of his boots against the floor.

  "Oh, shit," she hissed.

  His gaze lifted and caught her eyes fluttering. That's all it took, and he was out of the chair and leaning her across the table. He pounded into her as she flopped her arms up to his head and back down to her sides.

  He grunted, going deep and withdrawing slowly only to thrust inside of her swiftly. His leg cramped. His hips quivered. His cock pounded.

  She sputtered a hiss on release, her chin chattering. He grunted, caught in his release, Nirvana curling around the base of his spine and then he exploded.

  He fell over her, bracing his weight on his elbows. Out of breath, he sucked in air. Next time, he'd last longer, and take her in bed. He wasn't done. He'd never be done.

  Chapter Eighteen

  "Mm...?" Warmth coated Tiff's back and she pressed her head deeper into the pillow. "What time is it?"

  Jeremy rubbed her lower back, taking the blanket off her. "Eight o'clock."

  She opened her eyes and sat up in bed. "Shit, I'm late."

  He rolled off the mattress and stood naked in front of her. "It's eight at night, baby. It's Monday."

  "Monday?" She rubbed at her eyes. "I fell asleep after we...had sex?"

  Jeremy shoved his foot into his pair of jeans. "You needed the rest. You've been working non-stop for the last three days. You needed a day off, and I needed to spend it with you in bed."

  She lifted her arms and stretched, her body worn out and still half asleep. "I need to take a shower."

  "Go ahead. We don't have to be there for another hour." Jeremy threaded his belt through the loops on his jeans.

  "Be where?" She stood naked and gazed around the room.

  The whole place was a wreck. Clothes were covering every surface. The bed was thrown together with the bottom sheet coming off. There were even two bowls with spoons sitting on the nightstand. She couldn't even remember eating. One minute she'd gotten out of bed to start the day and the next she was on her back with Jeremy between her legs. Rinse and repeat all day long. Somewhere in the afternoon, she remembered Jeremy covering her with the blanket, and she'd fallen asleep.

  "Club meeting." He slipped his T-shirt over his head.

  She walked past him toward the bathroom. "Go ahead and go. I'll stay here and clean up the mess we made over the last three days."

  He tagged her wrist, pulling her closer. "I want you there."

  They hadn't talked about Lola since last Friday when they made up after Silver Girls closed. Until she got answers from Jeremy, she wanted nothing to do with her old, two-faced-ex-friend.

  "You'll be busy doing club stuff and all I'll be doing is waiting for you." She stretched up and kissed his lips. "I'll make going without me worth it when you get back."

  "Take a shower, get dressed, and let's go." He kissed her hard. "Don't argue."

  "I don't see why I have to go." She walked over to her closet and removed a pair of jeans, her boots, and a long-sleeve shirt with a hi-low hem. "Think about it, Jeremy. There's nothing there for me to do while you're busy. I'll feel out of place, and I doubt if Desiree or Katie will be there."

  "They'll be there." He shoved his pistol in his vest pocket. "Everyone's going and needs to attend."

  She turned around with her clean clothes clutched to her chest. "Why?"

  His gaze intensified and he remained silent. She shook her head and walked back through the room past him, and shut herself in the bathroom. She wouldn't argue and ruin the whole Zen-moments they'd created lately, but once she finished her shower, she'd ask him one more time if she could stay home. The less she saw of Lola, the better mood she'd be in to deal with Jeremy.

  A half hour later, she walked out of the bathroom to find the room empty. She planted her hands on her hips. He was going to make it impossible to get out of going.

  She grabbed her cell phone, keys for the building, and shoved everything in her pockets, and walked out of the suite. The girls were all in their rooms, and she found Marci in the main kitchen cooking a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

  Tiff waved her hand in front of her face. "I hate that smell."

  "I know." Marci laughed. "Good thing you're leaving, so you don't have to deal with the scent."

  "How do you know I'm going out?"

  Marci leaned over and stared at the window of the microwave. "Jeremy came in here, downed a bottle of water, and mentioned he was taking you out. He told me to tell you to meet him out back in the alley."

  "Damn him," she muttered, leaving the room.

  After she secured the building and set the alarm, she walked over toward Jeremy standing by his Harley. Her irritation eased at the sight of him admiring his bike. He was so damn proud of that thing. She'd lost track of how many times she'd heard him tell her the story about how Cam brought him home after standing up to the judge and declaring his role as his biological father and gave him a pile of motorcycle parts he had no idea how to put together. He'd worked hard on assembling the motorcycle, piece by piece, and he was even prouder of the fact it was Cam's first motorcycle.

  She stopped and watched him. He'd had a shit life. A druggie for a mom who neglected him growing up and overdosed when he was sixteen. At the same time, she was caught in a nightmare with an alcoholic mom. She hadn't noticed him until he started living with Cam and rode his motorcycle to school. Warmth flooded her. God, she thought he was hot. All bad boy with a craving to break the rules.

  Once they got together, it seemed like everyone was trying to keep them apart. Jeremy learned Cam wasn't his real dad, and then the lies started. During that time, Jeremy refused to talk with her and ran away. When she finally convinced him to come back for her, so she could run away with him, he found out the lies had started before he was even born and Cam was indeed his birth dad. The real story of how he'd found, lost, and discovered Cam was his father remaine
d a mystery to her.

  Jeremy glanced over his shoulder. "Hey."

  "Hey." She softened toward going with him to the meeting.

  If she stayed home, Lola would win, and Tiff wasn't giving up without a fight. She'd go, and she'd make sure all the other Moroad women knew she belonged to Jeremy.

  "Ready?" Jeremy slipped the helmet onto her head and fastened the D-Loop.

  "I guess." She placed her hands on his stomach. "Are you going to be tied up in business the whole time?"

  "I won't be long, and then I'll be with you." He sat on his Harley.

  She climbed behind him, wrapped her arms around his bulk, and worked up the courage to face Lola. At least now she belonged to Jeremy, and there was nothing Lola could say to convince her otherwise. He'd shown her over and over that he was a permanent fixture in her life, even when he lived in prison.

  Five minutes later, Jeremy parked at the motel. She grabbed his hand and walked with him to the back of the building. It only took one look at those surrounding the fire to know every Moroad member who remained free showed up for the meeting.

  Jeremy walked her over to Christina. She held onto his hand tighter. While she'd seen all the women who belonged to Moroad members over the years, she usually turned away or left the area, so as not to have any conversations with the ladies that weren't Silver Girl dancers.

  "You still haven't come over for dinner." Christina held up her arms.

  Jeremy leaned down and hugged his stepmom. "Been busy."

  "So I've heard." Christina frowned. "You don't have to do this."

  Jeremy stepped back and threw his arm over Tiff's shoulders, pulling her close. "It's a done deal."

  Tiff bristled. The vibes coming off Christina warned her they were talking about Jeremy's decision to keep her as his property.

  "I'll come by the house next week with Tiff and have dinner," said Jeremy.

  Christina's frown smoothed into a smile at the news and turned to Tiff. "That sounds wonderful, and I'm so happy to see you two back together."