by Wilde, Kati
My throat is tight as hell. “You saw me in that red dress?”
“Looking like a fucking supermodel? Yeah, I did.”
Fuck. “If I’d wanted any Rider to see me that way I’d have walked into the clubhouse wearing it.”
“I figured that.” His voice is low. “Is that dress for you or for them?”
“For them. It makes it easy. A lot easier than wearing a kutte.” But I’m still picky. I’m more likely to turn down invitations than not. “Did I get lucky when you saw me?”
“No. What I saw was how many you sent away.” His dark gaze seems to glitter with a dangerous light. “I thought about sitting next to you.”
Where he might buy me a drink. Where I might decide to take him up to my room. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because even when you’re not wearing a kutte, you’re still a Rider. And I’m still one, too.”
“And you thought I might send you away?”
“Yes.”
Every breath I draw seems to ache deep in my chest. God. How many hookups have I had? Girls mostly in town. Trolling for guys out of town. And it never got to me—until now, when I think of how everything would be different if he’d just sat down. Or if I’d seen him at the hotel, because I know myself. I’d have reeled him in, taken him up to my bed.
And I’d never have stopped taking him. I don’t know how I’ll stop now.
The pressure in my chest erupts on a bitter laugh. “Well, I guess one thing—this bet saved me a trip and hotel bill. At least until next time I need some dick.”
Jack leans in, his eyes like heated stone. “Do you need more now?”
My heart thuds. “Yes.”
“Good.” He takes my hand and sweeps up the bourbon bottle in the other. “Because my dick needs to fuck your ass.”
I grin and let him haul me toward the bedroom. “Still not my favorite fuckhole.”
“That’s why I’ve got this.” He sloshes the bourbon around in the bottle. “If the lube doesn’t work I’ll just start pouring liquor into you. You’ll end up liking it one way or another.”
I snort out a laugh. “It might take a lot of liquor.”
“Whatever works. Get on the bed so I can tie you up again.”
Still wearing his jeans, he tosses the lube and strip of condoms to the mattress beside me, then he cuffs my wrists and fastens them to the headboard. “Got any toys? I bought a few but didn’t know what you like.”
So he didn’t reconnoiter my stash? “In the big dresser. The top drawer.”
I watch his face as he looks through. Nothing in there seems to surprise him and finally he pulls out a smooth G-spot vibrator with a clit stimulator.
He glances back at me. “You like it?”
“Love it. But, I just realized I forgot to take off your shirt before you tied me.” And with my arms stretched over my head and my hands bound, it’s not coming off the normal way.
“I didn’t forget. I like seeing you in it.”
He returns to the bed and pushes the hem of the shirt up over my tits, bunching the material at my neck. His big hands slide up the sides of my ribcage before swooping in to pinch my taut nipples. Fuck. My back arches, and I moan when his hot mouth replaces his fingers, the ache of arousal already building in my pussy again.
His lips taste my neck, my jaw. His voice is like gravel when he says, “Are you going to bite me if I kiss you?”
We broke that rule a while ago. But I’m never that easy. “I won’t draw blood.”
And that must be good enough because his mouth devours mine, tasting of bourbon and pepper and the sweetness of this need. His cheeks are flushed when he pulls back, his cock a thick ridge behind denim. Gripping a pillow, he wedges it under my hips, then grabs another when the height doesn’t satisfy him. Finally he kneels between my splayed legs, watching my face as he eases the slim vibrator inside my slick pussy. The stimulator covers my clit.
On low speed. Immediately frustrated, I roll my hips. “That’s not going to do it. Turn it up.”
Ignoring my demand, he leans forward between my legs and catches my left nipple in his teeth before sucking hard. His hand slides down to my cunt, his fingers lightly teasing the lips of my pussy before gripping the base of the vibe and slowly, slowly pumping it in and out, maddeningly shallow thrusts.
Oh, God. He’s going to fucking kill me. The toy isn’t big enough or deep enough and it’s not vibrating fast enough to do anything but drive me insane.
“Fuck.” Groaning, I try to lift my hips, to get more sensation, but he pins me down.
“More, Lily?”
“Yes.” I grit it through clenched teeth, because he’s squirting lube onto his fingers and I know the more he’s going to give. “You bastard.”
He grins and his hand slides farther back. God help me. It is more. Just one long finger, and although it doesn’t feel bad I still don’t like it much, either. But the slow thrust into my tight channel seems to enhance all the rest—and yet it’s still not enough, my body clenching and squirming but I can’t get to the height I need.
“Jack! God. Do it!”
No longer smiling, his face taut with hunger, he sheathes his cock. “You want me to fuck your ass?”
“Or turn up the fucking vibrator.”
That’s apparently not his choice. Fisting his shaft, he begins pushing into me. I expect him to pull the vibe from my pussy but he leaves it in, the stimulator teasing my clit as his cock slowly fills my ass. My fingers twist in the ropes. Jesus. I groan and try to lift my hips, to ease the pressure. The vibe isn’t thick but now I feel it, my inner walls seeming to tighten the deeper Jack goes. He’s big and it hurts, and I still don’t like it, but it’s so much more and that feels so fucking good.
With a grunt, Jack tips me up higher. He thrusts fully into me, his pelvis hitting the base of the vibrator and pushing it deeper into my pussy, harder against my clit. I cry out and he slowly withdraws, but I wrap my legs around him and try to force him back, to fill me up again. He shoves into me, hitting the vibe, oh God, like that, and he’s evil, fucking evil, because somehow he’s got me begging him to fuck my ass. Then he turns up the vibe to high and I’m suddenly screaming for more, and he gives it, fucking me hard until the buzz against my clit blows me apart.
Jack groans long and low as I come, bracing his hands beside my shoulders and gentling his thrusts. I lay shuddering as he finishes and falls forward over me, sweat dripping down his taut back.
“You bastard,” I pant, tightening my legs around him. “You dirty fucking bastard.”
He grins, looking down at me, brushing away the long hairs clinging to my sweaty face. “Want that liquor now?”
“Screw you,” I say but my laugh ruins it. Never would I have guessed Jack fucking Hayden is fun in bed. Intense? Yes. Sexy and gorgeous? Oh, yes. But not fun.
Yet here I am, laughing and enjoying every second with him—and loving that he seems to like it all as sloppy and as rough as I do.
Jack reaches up and tugs the rope free but doesn’t release my cuffs. He pulls his shirt over my head. Sliding his arms beneath me, he lifts my weight easily and carries me into the bathroom, where he trashes the condom and tosses the vibe into the sink. I turn on the shower and he slides under the hot spray with me, pulling me back against his chest. God, this is nice. After so much great bourbon and spectacular sex, I’m languid and warm and feeling good all over.
Jack’s hand strokes down my wet hair. “How long does the water last?”
“Forever. I have a tankless water heater.”
“Then we’ll take forever,” he says and grabs the cake of soap. He lathers my back, then tenderly slides his sudsy fingers between my ass cheeks, washing away the lube. “All right back here?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Lazily, I turn my back to the spray and lay my head against his shoulder. “And I’m not saying you made me a fan. But it did feel like sweet angels were pounding my ass at the end there.”
Though his broad chest I fe
el the rumble of his laugh. His fingertips gently skim from my shoulder to my elbow. “Is your arm hurting?”
“Not too bad.”
“So it is.” His arm tightens around me. “Want to take a break before round two?”
“Sounds good,” I mumble against his neck. “Fair warning, though. I’m going for a knockout.”
“No need.” His hand tangles in my hair and he holds me closer. “I went down in round one.”
I guess we both did.
• • •
Back in my bed, Jack holds me against side, my head pillowed on his shoulder. I’m still boneless and sleepy and utterly happy. I’ve had some wild nights but I can’t remember being this well fucked, this satisfied. In the dim light, I listen to his even breathing, feel his heart beating slowly beneath my palm. A demon’s inked mouth devours his parents beneath my hand. His brother’s name bleeds beneath my fingertips.
We’ve been quiet for a while, but I know he’s not asleep. “Where’s your brother now?”
“Tulsa.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
“No. Up near Seattle.”
A long way from Oklahoma. “Do you ever see him?”
“I see him. He doesn’t see me.”
Unless his brother is blind there’s only one way that makes sense. “So you don’t visit. But you check in, make sure he’s doing all right.”
“I do.”
Just like he’d made sure his brother was okay in prison, too. “Is the distance your choice or his?”
“His. I killed our father when I was fourteen and he was ten. He hasn’t forgiven me for it.” During my stunned silence following that announcement, he adds, “My mother never did, either.”
Heart pounding, I come up onto my elbow. His eyes are flat, but I know better now than to think they’re empty. I just can’t see what’s behind them.
Fucking hell. This might be why I can’t see what’s behind them. And didn’t he say that he’d learned his first lesson from his father’s fists? “Why did you kill him?”
“He started in on Jaime. I tried to stop him and that pissed him off. But when he dragged me into the kitchen and got me over the table, I got my hands on a knife—and I didn’t take what he gave me that time.”
Jesus. What was it he said to me the other day? I told him I was going to be the worst fuck ever and Jack said he’d already had the worst. “You say he started in on Jaime. You don’t just mean beating.”
“No.”
My throat and stomach hurt like I’m going to cry, but Jack’s relaying it all like it’s somebody else’s past. “What happened to you after? Were you arrested?”
“No charges were brought. But my mother wouldn’t take me back. So they put me in a place.”
No charges. That probably meant the evidence of abuse was so severe that the cops didn’t even think to. That it was self defense or justified. Fourteen. With his father’s blood on his hands after being sexually abused by the man for God knows how long. Then rejected by his family. No way that didn’t cut something out of him. “How the hell did you get into the service? I thought you were fucked up after you came out but obviously you must have been before you went in.”
A short laugh shakes through him. “I was. I failed the psych evals, but in just the right way. I was perfect for other operations.”
“In what branch?”
“Not any. I just did what needed to be done to protect the country.”
I can hear what he isn’t saying. That he was recruited to carry out operations where he had to work alone. Maybe operations where the government didn’t really want to claim involvement, so if any of his missions went south they’d have washed their hands of him. “And you had the right mindset for it.”
To work alone. To kill without hesitation. And not to expect anyone to have his back.
He says gruffly, “It’s the same mindset that will force a woman to follow through on a bet, just so I can get my dick into her for a night.”
Yet he still gave me a choice. I won’t ever forget that. “You are incredibly fucked up.”
His mouth curves with wry amusement. “No argument here.”
I bend to kiss that sexy smile before laying my head on his shoulder. “It’s all right. I like you this way.”
And love the way he holds me closer.
“So that’s how you met Creek? He did the same covert shit you did?”
“Yes.”
I frown up at him. “Then Creek has that mindset, too. He’ll do what needs to be done to protect something. So how far will he go to protect his mission? You could expose him. He might not be coming to talk to you but to take you out, make sure you never talk.”
“No.”
“How can you be sure?”
He’s quiet for a second, as if he hasn’t had to put his answer into words before. “It would be disrespectful.”
“But he’s been under for a while. You can’t know if he’s changed.”
“People don’t change.”
I’m pretty sure arguing that point won’t change his mind. “Just be careful.” I rise over him, instead, straddling his stomach. His rough fingers slide up over my thighs. “Ready for round two?”
His hands shoot up, catching my jaw and hauling my mouth down to his.
I take that as a “Yes.”
Chapter Seven
The sexy rumble of a Harley’s engine and the rattle of my garage door wake me. Faint gray light peeks through the bedroom window. Dawn.
Jack is gone.
No, Jack is going. My heart clenches and I scramble out of the bed, but I’m too late—the sound of his engine tells me that he’s already out of the driveway. I rush to the window and catch a glimpse as he rides down the street. My fingers curl against the cool glass when he rounds the corner, out of sight.
Fuck.
Disappointment sinks through me. I knew he would leave early for work, but I intended to see him off, find out when he plans to come over again. I could text and ask but everything still feels tilted, as if I’m seeing him through a new scope, and it’s already hard enough to read him. I don’t need the additional distance of a text message—and I don’t want it to feel like a hookup.
I want asking him to come over to feel like it means something.
With a sigh, I climb back into bed, and every ache from round two and round three seems to settle in with a vengeance. Groaning, I pop a painkiller, pull the sheet up over my head, and hug Jack’s pillow to my chest. It’s a poor substitute for the man.
But that’s all right. I’ll have him again.
• • •
I’m elbows deep in dishwater when I see Jenny Erickson pull up in her truck. I meet her at the door, dripping onto the tile because I couldn’t find a single freaking hand towel.
I give up and use my shirt, instead. I look her over. Shorts and sandals, a flowery little top, her dark hair up. She’s always cute as hell, but she usually just wears jeans and a tee when she’s working. “Were we meeting for lunch?”
“No.” Her pale green gaze runs all over my face. Her forehead is creased with concern. “Saxon suggested that maybe I should check in on you while I’m in town.”
“Check in on me? Why?”
She follows me back to the kitchen. “He didn’t say why. But I heard from Anna that you got a huge fine.”
Anna Wall—the bartender at the Wolf Den. The brothers probably have no idea how much she knows about club business.
But apparently no one has mentioned my bet yet. Maybe they’re afraid to, considering that it involves Jack.
I don’t care if Jenny knows about it, though. “I lost a bet with Blowback. He tied me up and screwed me all night.”
Her pretty mouth drops open. Her gaze does another head-to-toe before she scans the room, as if looking for the damage. She won’t find any. Every sign Jack was here has been scrubbed or taken away. It was already like that when I finally got up. The vibrator washed and back in the drawer, our
plates in the kitchen cleaned, the rope and the cuffs missing. Even the trash had been emptied, the butcher paper and the used condoms gone.
Her astonished gaze returns to mine. “And you’re all right?”
I have to laugh. “I’m fine.”
“Well, okay. I was going to meet up with Anna and grab something to eat. Do you want to join us?”
“I do. Let me just rinse this shit.”
Of course she helps. That’s Jenny. I’d just wait for the other person to finish doing their own crap but she jumps right in. “So you are all right?”
I give her the side-eye. “Why are you so surprised?”
“Because there aren’t little pieces of you buried out in the forest.”
Realization hits me. Jack makes a lot of people uneasy. Sometimes I forget exactly how uneasy.
“Like he’s a serial killer?” I laugh so hard I almost fall into the sink. “Oh, God. He’s fucked up, yeah. But a different kind of fucked up.”
The kind of fucked up that will tear someone apart, sure. But only if they threaten something he’s trying to protect.
Her eyes narrow on me, like she’s realizing there’s more I haven’t said. Like how freaking good it was.
It’s crazy sometimes how quickly she reads me. I haven’t even known her that long— No, scratch that. I’ve known her all my life. Of course I knew about Red Erickson’s spoiled little princess. But I didn’t know her.
Now I do. And she’s not spoiled. Sure, she has a big house and money, but she also works her ass off. She’s nice, too, like I’ll never be.
She’s also the only person I’ve had sex with that is still a friend. And it wasn’t even full on, one-on-one sex. She was with Saxon; I just helped them out by licking her pussy.
There’s no other friend whose taste I know. Everyone else I’ve been with, they’re all hookups. They didn’t mean anything to me before I fucked them, and they never stick around after they get to know me. But I don’t stick around, either. I don’t even know if I know how. Sometimes I think the only reason Jenny’s still around has nothing to do with me and everything to do with how nice she is.
Shit. Shit. Jack wasn’t a friend. Not really. I was too angry at him for so long. Last night changed everything, though, and I think we could be damn good friends. The sex is amazing but I’m pretty sure we’d get along great during the down time, too. But maybe I’ll be no good at being with him. Or maybe he won’t want to stick around, either.
