Reaper's Fire (Reapers Motorcycle Club #6)

by Joanna Wylde

  Damn.

  As for judging her, those bitches could eat shit and die. Wasn’t like she’d done anything that bad. I’d fucked more strippers than I could count, and considering the crimes I’d pulled in the last few weeks alone, Tinker was a goddamned angel. Even so, I’d known she’d start avoiding me if I let her leave while she felt uncomfortable, so the movie was serving a purpose.

  But now I was starting to second-guess my plan.

  For one thing, there was a very sexy woman sitting less than six inches from me. I didn’t want the blanket because I was cold—I needed cover for my massive boner. I couldn’t even focus on the show, because I was too busy watching another movie in my head.

  Tinker’s sex tape.

  She’d been on top. I kept picturing it, only instead of some dumbass kid, she was riding me. Did she sit straight up, or lean over, letting her boobs dangle right over his mouth? That’s what I’d want—tits flying just within reach, and my hands on her ass to guide her. I shifted on the couch, hating the fact that I couldn’t do jack shit about this growing, aching need.

  How long would it take to finish up business with the Nighthawks? Too fucking long.

  “I can’t believe how late it is,” Tinker said, yawning, and I realized the movie had ended. Now she stretched upward, the blanket falling to her waist as her boobs pushed forward.

  God, how much should a man be expected to take?

  I should’ve stayed away from her completely—that’d been the plan—but something had snapped when I’d seen her out in the courtyard. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d met a woman like Tinker. She was smart and sexy and funny, and she worked damned hard to take care of her family and business. Sure, I wanted to fuck her—you’d have to be gay not to—but I respected her, too.

  “I should probably get going,” she said, offering me a smile so sweet I wanted to bite her lips. “I like to check on Dad before going to sleep, and I’ve got to be up early in the morning. I’ve got to package orders for the courier tomorrow—if they aren’t ready by two p.m., I’m screwed.”

  I considered rolling over on top of her. Pushing her down into the couch cushions, shoving my leg between hers, and showing her what a real man feels like.

  “Cooper?” she asked, looking confused. I blinked a couple times, forcing myself to focus on her face.

  “I’m going to watch another one,” I told her, because I’m a goddamn masochist. “You sure you’re ready to head out?”

  She frowned, and I could almost read her thoughts. Yes, she should leave. But she wanted me as much as I wanted her. And yeah, I realize that makes me sound like an egotistical ass, but this wasn’t my first rodeo. I saw the lust in her eyes, and the way she licked her lips and stared at my mouth. This wasn’t a one-way street, not even close.

  “I guess I could stay a little longer,” she whispered. Christ, she was so sweet and soft. I wanted to bite her even more now. Suck that pouty lower lip into my mouth and shove a finger up her ass.

  Break her.

  You’re one sick fuck.

  Why yes. Yes, I am. Thanks for noticing.

  I managed to control the urge, catching her hand instead, giving it a friendly squeeze like some kind of pathetic tool. Her fingers tightened on mine, then she pulled away and snuggled back down under the blanket, raising her feet to rest on the coffee table. I grabbed the remote and clicked through the menu.

  Tomorrow I’d do my job. I’d fuck Talia and spy on Marsh and look for any kind of weakness that might end this situation, the faster the better. Tonight, though . . . Tonight I’d pretend this wasn’t a waste of time.

  Goddamn, but my dick hurt.

  • • •

  The next hour was torture.

  Tinker sat next to me, all cute and classy and absolutely refusing to make any kind of eye contact. I don’t know how she felt, but to me the sexual tension hanging in the air was thick and heavy. I kept thinking about her hand in mine—small, but strong. The hand of someone who knew how to work hard. So far as I knew, Talia had never held down a job, let alone supported herself.

  The couch shifted, and I glanced over to find Tinker sliding deeper into the cushions, drawing the blanket up to her chin. Our legs were maybe six inches apart. She shifted again, and then her hand bumped mine under the blanket. She jerked it back quickly, and I caught the hint of a flush on her cheeks. That was another thing I liked about her—her skin was so pale that I could see every hint of arousal.

  Grabbing her hand, I pulled it over to rest on my thigh. This was a really bad idea, so I pointedly refused to think it through. Her hand tensed at first, then relaxed into my strength. My cock swelled against the fabric of my jeans, just inches from her fingers—it’d be so easy to push her hand toward it, wrap it around my painfully swollen dick, and just go to town.

  Tinker’s fingers gave a quick squeeze—almost more of a spasm—and I bit back a groan.

  Yeah, okay. Really, really bad idea. I should get off the couch and shut this shit down right now, because I couldn’t afford to blow things with Talia just yet. Instead I found myself leaning toward Tinker, bumping shoulders.

  God.

  I’d grown a pussy. No other explanation, because I couldn’t figure out why the hell else an adult man would sit holding hands under a damned blanket like a kid. A member of the Reapers MC, who fucked more women in a year than most did in their lives. A man with blood on his hands. Fresh blood.

  But Tinker smelled really good.

  I’d get up in a minute—no, five minutes. Five more minutes wouldn’t matter. Tinker sighed, letting her head fall against my shoulder, and I smelled peaches. Christ, I loved the smell of her hair. If Picnic could see this right now, he’d shit bricks. Of course, considering how far the club had stuck its neck out for his woman, wasn’t like he had the right to complain.

  Tinker’s hand shifted, brushing against my cock. I heard her breath hiss and she jerked her hand away, but that instant of contact was enough to set me on fire, lava boiling through my veins. Enough of this shit—I wanted her, and I’d waited too long already. I turned, catching the back of her head and pulling her in for a hard kiss, because fuck loyalty.

  She stiffened at first, then her lips softened. My tongue slid in and all thought ceased. She tasted like cupcake. Cupcake and caramel and every kind of deliciousness that I wanted to eat. God, what would her pussy taste like? I had a feeling it’d be sweeter than all the rest put together. I thought about all those pretty candies she made, and imagined shoving a piece of caramel up her cunt just so I could suck it back out again.

  Jesus, I needed to stop thinking. Right now.

  Fumbling with the blanket, I pushed her down onto the couch, shoving a knee between her legs. Fire exploded as my dick met her stomach. I started grinding against her, which made holding the kiss a bit of a contortion, but so fucking worth it. Hell, if kissing her felt this good, what would it be like when—

  The front door flew open so hard it cracked the drywall.

  I jumped up, shoving Tinker into the couch and reaching for the gun I kept stashed under the couch. I raised it, covering her with my own body, wondering if Marsh had finally figured out who I was. Talia charged in, eyes blazing.

  Great. Just fucking great. Exactly the end to the evening I’d hoped for.

  “What the hell is going on here?” she demanded. Tinker moaned, and not in pleasure. What a fucking mess. I didn’t feel guilty—I owed Talia jack shit—but I’d dragged Tinker into this, and that was a dick move.

  Gotta stop thinkin’ with your cock.

  “I need to get out of here,” Tinker said frantically, trying to push me off. I didn’t move, holding Talia’s eyes. For all I knew, she had a weapon—I’d let Tinker up when I knew it was safe, and not a second earlier.

  “Talia, get your ass over there,” I said, nodding toward the opposite wall. “Tinker’s gonna leave and then we’ll have a talk.”

  “Oh, we’re gonna talk,” she snarled. “Right after I c
ut your dick off!”

  She lunged and I jumped up, catching her before she could reach my landlady. Tinker rolled to the floor, scuttling back and away. Talia tried to knee my balls. I blocked her, grabbing one of her hands and twisting it behind her back. We stood glaring into each other’s eyes, hers promising me a slow, painful death.

  Right back atcha, sweetheart.

  “Let me go, asshole.”

  “Tinker, get out of here. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Talia lunged forward and caught my chin in her teeth, biting down like a Tasmanian devil. Holy shit. I reached up, locking my hands around her jaw as Tinker screamed. Something hit Talia over the head, and she unlatched abruptly, spinning around to attack Tinker, who was clutching the motorcycle parts manual that she’d used to defend me.

  “I can’t believe I just did that,” she said, eyes wide.

  Neither could I, actually.

  Talia screeched again, stomping on my foot to break free, determined to punish Tinker. I loved a good catfight as much as the next guy, but this was getting out of hand. Diving for my fake girlfriend, I caught her and swung her up and over my shoulder, hissing and spitting. “Let me go!”

  Tinker stared at us, chest heaving, eyes wide.

  “This was a horrible mistake,” she said quickly, and I could see she meant every word. “I’m sorry, Talia. I’ll never talk to him again.”

  “You’ll never talk again after I cut out your lying tongue, whore!”

  “Shut up!” I bellowed, the room going silent. Breathing deep, I took a minute to control my anger. I wanted to throw Talia through the window. Instead I’d have to make peace with the crazy bitch, which meant banging her until she forgot what’d pissed her off in the first place. Hard as my dick was, her snatch wasn’t the one it wanted.

  And Tinker? At this rate I’d never see her again. Christ, what the fuck was I thinking?

  “I’m out,” Tinker said breathlessly, making for the door.

  “That’s right, slut. Run away!” Talia hissed. “You may act like a stuck-up bitch, but we all know the truth about you!”

  “Shut the fuck up!” I growled, smacking her ass. Wasn’t hard enough to really hurt, but definitely hard enough to catch her attention. Considering that she’d clawed up my neck and was doing her damnedest to pull out a chunk of my hair, I didn’t feel bad about it at all. Talia lurched, knocking me off-balance. I caught a glimpse of Tinker slipping out the door, pushing past Talia’s crony, Sadie, who was lingering in the doorway. Great. Apparently Talia had a spy in the building. Just what I needed, because obviously life wasn’t shitty enough already.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” I snarled at the little rat, and Sadie took off running. I’d have to deal with that one sooner rather than later. Or maybe not, because much as I hated this little game, it wasn’t over. Not yet. Everything boiled down to Marsh, and how fast we figured out his secrets.

  “Let me go,” Talia snarled, slapping at my back again. Instead I carried her into the bedroom, throwing her down with a rattling thump onto the secondhand bed. It knocked the breath out of her and she stilled. Finally. I pinned her down before she had a chance to recover, hands high over her head, legs trapped under mine.

  Talia narrowed her eyes. I narrowed mine right back, wondering if she had any clue how easy it would be to strangle her. She was alone in an apartment with a very pissed-off biker. A biker one hell of a lot bigger than her. I’d played the pussy for weeks, but now she’d attacked Tinker.

  This was a game changer.

  “Let me up.”

  “Not until you calm down,” I said, allowing some of the anger to show in my voice. “We’re gonna talk this shit out.”

  “What’s to talk about? You were cheating on me!”

  And here we go . . .

  “We aren’t exclusive,” I reminded her. “You’ve been sleeping around the whole time we’ve been together.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “You knew that?” she whispered. Jesus Christ.

  “Yeah, the used condoms sort of gave it away. Oh, and the way you were always texting other guys, even when we were together. Don’t leave your fuckin’ phone on the table while you pee if you want to keep shit like that quiet. Damned thing buzzes every twenty seconds. I only fought with Mike because you set me up to look bad at the clubhouse.”

  The rage drained out of her eyes, replaced with uncertainty and maybe a hint of fear. Nice. About time, too.

  “So you did this to get back at me.”

  “Not really,” I said bluntly. “We aren’t a couple. We’re just two people who fuck sometimes.”

  “What if I want more than that?” she asked softly. For an instant I wondered if I’d read her wrong—did she actually care about me? Maybe, I decided. Hell, she looked almost vulnerable. I could use this. Until now she’d had the upper hand in this little arrangement.

  Time for a change.

  “I just got out of a relationship,” I said, the words slow and crisp. “We’ve been having fun and that’s about as far as I want to go with it, at least for now. You want more, try showing me you have more to offer.”

  Talia seemed to shrivel in on herself. Water pooled in her eyes, and for a second I thought she might cry. Then she pushed out her chin, setting her jaw and glaring up at me.

  “I don’t want you fucking that bitch Tinker Garrett,” she said. “It’s her or me. You think you can handle that?”

  Took everything I had not to roll my eyes, but I managed to pull it off.

  “Like I give a shit about Tinker,” I said. “I invited her to dinner because I felt sorry for her.”

  “You try to screw everyone you feel sorry for?” she asked, her voice hardening.

  I shrugged. “We were watching a movie. It got cold so I grabbed some of the blanket and then she went for my cock. I’m only human. But think about it, Talia—Tinker’s at least fifteen years older than you and probably a good twenty pounds heavier. You really think I’d pick her over you?”

  Fuck yeah, I would. She had curves and class and she didn’t throw temper tantrums like a fuckin’ two-year-old.

  “Thirty pounds,” Talia sneered, and I knew I had her. God, the woman was so damned full of herself. When this shit ended, the boys back home owed me free beer for a year, I decided—I’d earned it. “You should see her sex tape. It’s hilarious—she looks like a fat whale.”

  I stilled.

  “Sex tape?” I asked, playing dumb. Talia laughed.

  “Stupid bitch got caught fucking a stripper at a party,” she said, eyes dancing. “Someone caught a video of it. I couldn’t stop laughing the first time I saw the thing.”

  “Is it online?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably. There’s a billion other ones out there, too, so how would you know unless it went viral? Not that it would—she’s nothing special.”

  The image of Tinker, naked, riding cock, took over my imagination. Would she be totally bare, tits swinging and ass shaking? Or maybe she’d been wearing a skirt, hiking it up and going to town just like that.

  “Let me up and I’ll show you,” Talia said suddenly. “I have it on my phone.”

  That startled me right out of the fantasy. “What? Why the hell would you have that?”

  “I knew she was watching you,” she told me, obviously pleased with herself. “Fat bitch doesn’t know you’re out of her league. Marsh got a copy and I told him to send it. Thought it might be useful. Like I said—it’s funny. She looks really stupid and then the guy gets really pissed off. She probably had to pay him and he knew he wouldn’t get his money since they got interrupted. Oh, and Maisy Braeburn tried to attack her or something. It’s hysterical.”

  I’d bet my Harley nothing Tinker did could look stupid, although I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of actually seeing her with the guy. Imagining her screwing some random stripper was one thing, but a real person? Not so much. On the other hand, it’d be a chance to look at her naked.

&nbs
p; “Okay, show me,” I said, rolling off Talia. “Although I still think it’s weird you have it.”

  Talia sat up and reached into her jeans, pulling out her phone. She thumbed it on, then flipped through it, laying back against me as she held up the tiny screen.

  The video started with a bunch of women dancing around with a couple of male strippers, obviously drunk off their asses. They were all about Tinker’s age. Carrie walked by and looked at the camera, frowning.

  “Turn that thing off,” she said. “Nobody wants you taking pictures in here.”

  “What’s the matter?” a female voice asked, sounding louder. Had to be the one holding the phone and recording. “Afraid Darren will be pissed?”

  Carrie rolled her eyes, then flipped her off casually. Another woman shouted, “I need more tequila!”

  The phone swiveled to show a short woman with long, dark hair, deep brown eyes, and a bright red dress so tight it must’ve been shrink-wrapped around her. On her head was a red veil with two little devil horns, and in one hand she held an empty liquor bottle turned upside down. She frowned at the camera, shaking her head like this was the most tragic event in the history of time.

  “So sad . . .” she whimpered.

  “There’s more in the bedroom,” someone said off camera, then the scene shifted abruptly, images rising and falling as its owner walked across the room. I saw flashes of leg and wall and generic hotel door opening, then a whispered, “Holy shit.” Suddenly the camera snapped up, zooming in on one very naked Tinker Garrett.

  She was straddling a man across a bed, facing the camera as she arched her back, eyes closed and face full of bliss. My cock hardened in an instant, because Jesus fucking Christ. Her tits were amazing—round and natural and bouncing as she rocked her hips across his once, twice, a third time. His hands tightened around her narrow waist and his body clenched, moaning as he came with an agonized groan. Tinker kept moving, reaching down between her legs and I nearly came myself, just from the sight of it.

  Goddamn. Cancel Christmas. This was the best spank bank material ever.

  “What the fuck? Tinker? Jesus, Heather, stop filming!” someone shouted.