by Rie Warren
By the time I gave Ashe her ninth orgasm, she was a sweaty sexy trembling mess. I had her sitting on the chair in our room, her legs spread over the armrests. I’d never seen her pussy more ripe, her nipples more pink, her clit peeking out of the little hood as I guided the tip of my cock around it. The ball on my Prince Albert teased the tender hot bud of flesh.
I couldn’t hold back any longer. “No condom?” I still asked every time.
Ashe shook her head.
Kneeling there in front of her, I speared inside her sweet, snug body. There was nothing on earth like going bare with Ashe. Sex was even more intense. Her wet grip on my cock even tighter. The sensation so mind-blowing, I wanted to stay buried deep inside forever. Until the urge to thrust grew too great.
Ashe’s back arched. Her tits hit my chest. Her legs curled over my waist. “Oh God. Please fuck me, Brodie.”
Without withdrawing, I rolled my hips to hit her just right. She muffled a scream against my shoulder. With my hands on her waist, I pushed her off of my cock, slowly retreating then filling her again. I’d already come twice, once in her mouth and once on her tits. The bedroom smelled like sex and come and Ashe’s heady perfume.
I didn’t think I could take much more this time. Heat sizzled down my spine, landing in my balls and shooting up to the head of my cock. My strokes became harder. I rose to my feet, pulled her down more in the chair and slammed into her from above. She gripped my back and ass, rising up against me.
Our mouths met, tongues coiling, harsh breaths sounding like roars in my ears. Maybe that was the blood in my body, engorging my cock to full capacity.
With a few more pistons inside her I crushed Ashe to me and came so hard I shook from head to toe. Quietly groaning her name over and over, I emptied myself into her only to be surrounded by her heat and her moans and her grasping clutching motions.
I pulled her with me to the floor, still sheathed inside her. I gave a couple more pumps, and she gasped. I couldn’t seem to stop. When my hips slowed, I brought her face to mine. I kissed her everywhere—her neck, her eyelids, the soft bow above her pretty lips.
“Love you so much, Ashe.”
She burrowed against me, laughing weakly. “Love you too.”
“Not sure I can move though.”
“I know I can’t.”
With a grunt, I rose to my feet, tucking her slight weight around me. I lowered her to the bed then tidied her up. She’d started snoring softly. God, I loved that sound. The little huffs that meant she slept peacefully.
I checked on Cara after hauling on some sweats, a bit concerned because we hadn’t exactly turned down the volume of our lovemaking. She slept with her mouth wide open in a small puddle of drool. I tried not to laugh as I slipped the earbuds out of her ears and turned off the music.
I padded through the house toward the kitchen, stopping at the fireplace in the living room. A new photograph joined the old ones. Boomer had taken it at a picnic a couple weeks ago. In the picture I stood between Ashe and Cara. The photo of the three of us on a bright sunny day, hugging and laughing, did something to me. I looked like I could be Cara’s dad, and it wasn’t just the fact all three of us had blond hair. It was something in the casual way we fit, like any other family.
****
In the earliest hours of the morning, Ashe woke up. I watched as she patted the bed beside her. She sat up with a start when she saw me sitting on the edge of the mattress.
“Why are you dressed?” she asked, her voice sleep-husky.
“Something I want to talk about.” I’d woken half an hour earlier, had a shower, trimmed my goatee, put on some clean clothes.
“I should get dressed too then.” She began to get up.
“No.” I pushed her back onto the bed, my gaze wandering over her. She looked delicious, radiant. Her hair was mussed and her cheeks pink, a few wrinkles on the side of her face from the pillowcase creases. “You really shouldn’t get dressed. Ever, if I had my way.”
“Then what—”
“Shh.” I quieted her, my fingertip against her lips. “You might want to come over here and sit on the side of the bed though.”
I stood and she slipped into my place, tucking the sheet beneath her arms. Blonde hair tumbled to her shoulders. She looked like an angel except for the small frown marring her brow.
“I’m getting a little worried here, Brodie.”
“No need.” I smiled down at her. “I think it’s time we did something about this whole spinster status you’ve got goin’ on here though.”
“Broderick Steele!”
I lowered to both my knees in front of her and got a lot more serious. “Pursuing you came with some serious risks.”
She opened her mouth, to protest no doubt.
“Uh unh. Hear me out, Ashe.”
She clamped her lips shut.
“I didn’t want to get involved. I didn’t even want to like you.” I’d thought about what to say a million times, but maybe I should’ve run it past Cat first, get a woman’s perspective.
Ashe rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.
I slowly shifted to one knee, and understanding dawned in her eyes as they grew huge.
“The thing is, I didn’t plan on falling in love with you. But how could I not?” My voice came out gruffer with each word. “Funny and gorgeous. Fearless and protective. You’re an amazing mom, and damn, Ashe, when you gave me your heart and your love . . . I’m the luckiest man in the world. And I’d risk everything all over again to be with you.”
She started shaking her head. Her reaction almost made me falter, but I reached into my pocket. My heart banged in my chest, and my fingers shook as I held the diamond ring in the palm of my hand.
“I’m asking you to be my wife, because there’s nothing I want more than to be your husband.”
Her lips trembling, she looked from the engagement ring to my eyes and back again.
“I thought about giving you my mom’s ring. Decided not to. This is yours. I chose it for you. I want everything new, everything fresh with you, everything you’ve already given me . . . I hope for so much more for years to come.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks, and I swallowed roughly.
“Think you could give me an answer before my heart breaks, Ashe?”
She nodded her head, a smile bursting over her lips.
“That a yes?” I asked, hopeful, so fucking hopeful.
“Yes! Absolutely yes!”
“Hold out your hand for me, babe?”
Her free hand flew to her mouth as I slid the diamond home on her ring finger. My smile was uncontainable, and I reared up, pulling her to me.
“Fuck. You make me so happy, Ashe. Never thought I’d be this happy.” My voice cracked. “Thank you.”
More tears trailed down her cheeks. I cradled her face in my palms, kissing her softly. She wound her arms around my neck, the sheet dropping to her waist.
Flush against me, she murmured, “I love you, Brodie. Love you so much.”
Our kisses grew insistent, our tongues meeting, our lips slippery and wet. I gripped her bottom, anxious to rip the sheet all the way off.
“Be inside me. I want you in me,” Ashe whispered hoarsely against my mouth.
Her hands moved to the buttons of my jeans. My cock was hard as an iron pole. I wanted nothing more than to plunge into her wet heat, but I broke our wild kiss.
“Wait,” I said.
“What? Why?”
“One other person we need to wake up to tell the good news.”
Ashe peered down at her bare breasts, and I did, too. I rubbed my knuckles over her pebbled nipples, and she thrust them into my hands.
Unable to draw away, I slowly leaned over her, drawing her lips to mine.
“Cara?” she asked as I nibbled down the length of her neck, well on my way to sucking her nipples into my mouth.
“Yeah,” I grunted, hungrily latching on. Parting the sheet from her thighs, I sank two fingers into her.
/>
“Oh, God, Brodie. You said we need to—”
I slowly withdrew my fingers, running the wet digits up over her folds then down around the outside of her leg. Dragging my tongue from her plump breasts to her bottom lip, I nipped her with my teeth.
Sitting back, my cock a thick bulge in my jeans, I surveyed my handiwork. Ashe sat spread in front of me, the sheet dripping away, breasts heaving, lips parted, eyes half-lidded. The best part was the glinting diamond ring on her finger.
“Mm. You definitely need to put some clothes on now, babe.”
She stood with a shaky laugh, and the sheet dropped completely off her. Stepping around me, she swished her ass. “And you need to get control of your cock.”
I watched Ash the entire time she dressed. I hummed with approval at her naked backside when she chose a simple dress from the closet. Rubbing a finger under my lip, I admired the view as she pulled on panties and a bra.
I loved it when she held up her hand in front of her face, watching the way the diamond sparkled on her finger.
We made our way to Cara’s room, and I stopped Ashe outside the door. I pulled her into my arms. “One more thing you need to know first.”
She rubbed her hand over my chest and smiled. “What’s that?”
“You, Ashe Kingston, are the love of my life. Always will be.”
After kissing her, I opened Cara’s door.
This was the beginning of everything.
Keep reading for the first chapter of
HUNTER
Bad Boys of Retribution MC #1
From the world of the Carolina Bad Boys! A four-book spinoff series speeding your way one after the other in early summer 2015!
Hunter is available for preorder now! Coming June 2, 2015:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00UWHWMO8
https://www.goodreads.com/review/new/25069985-kinkaid
https://www.goodreads.com/review/new/25069997-bo
https://www.goodreads.com/review/new/25070007-coletrane
Chapter One
“YO, HUNTER.” COLE SLID me a fresh cold beer across the steel-topped bar in the Retribution clubhouse.
I savored the first swig, watching the man who was the biker on MC probationary status. In fact, most of the guys here called him “Probie” instead of his given name. I knew he wasn’t wet behind the ears or too stupid to have a clue. Unfortunately for him, everyone had to start out on the ground floor when pledging an MC, and he’d gotten the shit end of the stick. But he’d proved himself during our search for Detective Ashe Kingston. Brodie Steele, the VP of this club, was going to make things right with Cole the Probie tonight.
Just then, the old lady of the hour and her wildman entered the Retribution clubhouse. Whistles erupted only eclipsed by loud shouts and fists pounding on the tables.
Ashe accepted her welcome with the usual smile and sass, Brodie beaming by her side. The pair was well matched. Both blond: he the tall rangy biker dude, she the curvy babe on his arm. Ashe wasn’t new to the MC ’hood—she’d ridden a cop chopper in her time on duty as a Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina, Police Department officer before ranking as Vice detective. But word had it there’d been so much bad blood between Brodie and her in years past he’d just as likely have flipped her off as flipped out over her.
The times, they were a’changin’.
Ashe had been through the wringer. Solving her first case after her promotion to Vice, she’d been kidnapped while making the arrest. That night in September I’d come clean with Brodie about my undercover status. I worked off the record, in the dark, and usually solo. Lucky for him I’d been brought in on the sly, and we’d doled out a little vigilante justice.
In my eyes, the detective was Comeback Ashe. Now it was November. She’d recovered from the trauma, and sat through probably endless hours of counseling. She’d just completed her first full week back as detective. She was back in the saddle, and, for a change, Brodie didn’t look like he wanted to go full bodily harm on anyone who crossed his path.
I couldn’t imagine the hell he’d gone through, which was why I kept my relationship status firmly in the one-night-only column and women at arm’s length unless they were deemed content to let me fuck them then leave them. My work was dangerous enough. I didn’t need to drag a honey into it—or into my heart.
Glancing across the room as the celebration furor died down, I performed my usual calm cool appraisal of the action. Who might be a threat, who was working an angle, who was to be trusted. Along with Cole and Brodie, Boomer Steele—Brodie’s older bro—was in the solid corner. He was the founder and president of this club. The Steele family was tight and included Catarina, the youngest sibling of the trio who owned and operated the auto parts dynasty next door—Chrome and Steele.
Where Brodie was blond and leanly muscled, usually with a wicked gleam to his icy pale blue eyes, Boomer was a brick shithouse on legs, broad enough to take up an entire doorway, and his eyes either danced in laughter or held a dark sadness. I’d looked into the background of each Retribution member. Unfortunately, due to the Steele family tragedy, theirs was the most captivating.
The most sad.
I took another drink and turned to face the back of the barroom. The pool tables drew a crowd. So did the dartboards. The wood was polished. The tables shined. The floors didn’t stick to the soles of my boots. In fact, despite the usual loud rock tunes, many drinks imbibed, and the ladies in waiting to get laid, this was one of the cleanest clubs I’d ever investigated. Thanks to the Quicker Shitter Upper, Cole aka Probie.
Brodie waded through the crowded room toward me as his woman made a show of banking balls at insane angles before pocketing them at one of the pool tables.
Cole fetched a beer for Brodie, setting it at the ready before Brodie even took the stool beside me.
I clinked his bottle. “Chief’s happy with Ashe’s progress.”
“Yeah. Sipowicz and I are like this.” He knitted two fingers together.
I chuckled. Sipowicz was Brodie’s very appropriate nickname for Chief Tilden, head of the Mt. Pleasant Police Department. Wrinkled suits over a larger-than-life belly, haggard face, but more intelligence inside his head than anyone could ever fathom. Tight ship? He ran it out of the side of his mouth without ever letting a smile show. Good man.
“You still on MPPD’s payroll?” Brodie asked.
I considered the question. No one besides Ashe and her partner Davies—both of whom I’d worked with on the Retribution case—Cole, Boomer, and Brodie knew the real solid deal about me. And even then . . . they don’t have a fucking clue who I really am. Brodie had once mentioned I was a ghost. He wasn’t wrong.
“Now, now. I wouldn’t be undercover if I told you, would I?”
“Whatever.” He sniggered. “I’ll get it out of Probie later.”
“His name’s Cole. You know it. I know it. He’s a good one to have on the lookout. Might try to recruit him.”
“As long as you give him enough time to swab the decks around here,” Brodie replied.
I was staying put in Mt. Pleasant for reasons no one needed to know. Another case? Maybe. Let them guess. My personal life was well hidden, off the record, and very fucking lost at the bottom of the sea along with my real identity.
A parade of women from the sister charter sashayed inside. The First Ladies of Redemption went hand-in-hand with the Presidents of Retribution. I’d had my eyeful of the honeys before, but tonight there was a new babe in the mix.
A minx, in fact. I stared at the woman, stunned stupid. Beautiful didn’t cover what she had going on. Her soft-looking brown curls bounced as she strutted inside on ankle-high suede boots. I couldn’t see the color of her eyes, but damned if I didn’t drink in the pink fullness of her lips canted in a smile and her tight body revealed in a pair of hipster jeans to go with the slashed top. That top dripped off her shoulders and down her back, revealing creamy skin marked with a line of butterfly tats all the way down her spine by the looks of it.
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That had to hurt like a bitch.
Jesus, she looked untouched, totally fresh, and more than a little naughty all at the same time.
I cleared my throat, nailing the woman with my eyes. “Who’s that?”
Brodie swiveled around and scratched lazily at his goatee. “Oh, her? With the First Ladies. She’s pretty new.”
I leveled my gaze on the girl again. She faced full frontal, and damn me if her face wasn’t as sexy as the rearview. Worse? She had a smattering of freckles across her slim nose and along her high cheekbones. My own personal weakness.
“Fuck that. She’s pretty. Straight up.”
“New cherry,” Brodie said. “Fresh off the tree. We call her JB.”
“JB?” I asked.
“Jailbait, dude.”
I dropped my forehead to the bar with a groan. Of fucking course.
“Fitting. Don’t you think? Detective Sexton—if that’s even your real name?”
“It’s Lieutenant Sexton, asswipe.” I gave him the bird, my forehead still planted against the bar.
His laughter echoed as he walked away.
“Got company comin’ your way, Hunter,” Cole murmured.
I glanced around.
Oh hell. JB was headed straight for the bar on mile-long legs. I dropped my head, peering at her through the shafts of my black hair. She passed by, leaving the scent of her addictive floral perfume in her wake.
I didn’t do the obvious thing—like adjusting my suddenly hard cock in my leathers, or making a pass at her. Obvious was not part of my MO. I was the GHOST, literally. That was my call-sign and my roadname. I kept my head down, worked the grind, did my job and got the hell out of dodge before the dust settled.
I used the same set of rules with women. Chicks did not get to me, ever. I was twenty-seven goddamn years old—and a hell of a lot older if you counted my kills—yet I’d never reacted to a woman like this before. Immediately. Intensely. And probably destructively.
There was a reason I stayed off the relationship grid. Tangle with me, end up dead or worse. I might officially be the “good guy” on paper, but bad shit had a way of following in my footsteps.
