by Paula Cox
Yes, Griffin is an addiction, and I’m definitely in the middle of getting my fix, she thought.
Natasha let out a moan that sounded almost like a shudder, as she felt Griffin move within her. There was something so incredibly perfect about the way they fit together, something that made it nearly impossible for her to get away from him even though she knew that it was probably the best thing for her to do. With a sigh she moved him, rolling him onto his back so she could straddled him and take the control for a while. Griffin had a hard time relinquishing control, but Natasha kind of liked that struggle.
Poised above him, she looked down at his face as she teased the head of his cock. Watching him close his eyes and groan as though she was torturing him was an incredible feeling. It was powerful and completely sexy. His hands moved up to grip at her hips, bringing her down and allowing him to slip inside of her. She moaned as she felt the length of him and began to move.
“It feels so good,” she murmured to him.
“I know, baby,” he replied, his hands stroking her hipbones.
Of course, Griffin’s triumphant grin at the foiling of her plan to tease annoyed her in a distant way, but she could not help how delicious it felt. His hands slid up from her hips to her breasts, playing with her nipples and bringing them hard and stiff under his fingertips. God, it feels so good. I could do this forever, she thought.
As she slowly and sensually moved on top of him, one of his hands moved down to play with the hard nub of flesh between her legs; his other hand moved from her breast up to the back of her neck, bringing her down—hard and rough—for a kiss.
It was almost too easy, and the climax hit her hard. Waves of pleasure convulsed through her body as the moan she let out was muffled by his lips on hers. She shuddered against him, almost collapsing, and he used that moment to roll her on her back, reclaiming the control.
“You are so easy to take,” he whispered to her, as he waited for the final tremors of her orgasm to finish. Once they were done, he began to move inside of her again. She moaned appreciatively, not missing a beat, and wrapped her legs around his waist so that he could go deeper.
“You make it so easy for me to be taken,” she murmured back, her head against the pillow, staring directly into his gas flame blue eyes. “Although it is fun to tease.”
“You are a tease,” he said, as he moved a little harder. She made a little squeal of delight as he did so. He leaned down to kiss at her neck, as her head moved back. “What should I do about that?”
Her amber eyes blazed with lust, as a naughty smile touched her lips. Running her tongue across her teeth, she looked him dead in the eyes. “Whatever you want.”
“Are you sure you are ready for that?”
Natasha laughed. “I am ready for anything, baby.”
With one swift movement, he withdrew from her and rolled her onto her stomach. For a moment, she lay there, confused, until she felt him pull her hips up so her ass was sticking out. With a steady and sure hand, he gave her a few light taps. Shock and excitement ripped through her. Natasha was no stranger to having things a little on the rough side, and when he withdrew his hand, she felt herself leaning towards him even more.
“Come on, baby,” she said, her voice husky with desire. “You can do better than that.”
Griffin drew back his hand and landed a harder smack; Natasha closed her eyes and moaned. He continued like this for a little bit, spanking her while she wriggled with pleasure. Natasha could feel the desire growing in her more and more until she rolled on her back and looked up at him. His eyes were blazing, his teeth were gritted with want, and she had never seen him so hard.
“Come here,” she said.
He was on her before she even finished her sentence, guiding himself inside of her and moving with an intensity that she had never seen before. He pounded into her, and she ate it up, feeling the slickness growing between her thighs.
“I think I am going to come,” he whispered to her.
“Do it,” she replied.
He drew back a little bit and shook his head slightly. “I want you to, as well,” he said.
Then his fingers were on her clit again, as he moved slowly and surely. Natasha leaned her head back and felt the pleasure build inside of her once more. He watched her face, waiting for the moment when she would explode again in ecstasy. The moment came brilliantly. Natasha saw the stars burst behind her eyes, and Griffin took the moment to bury himself in her collarbone and go harder and harder until another familiar strangled cry came from him.
He collapsed on top of her, and without thinking, she automatically wrapped her arms around him. In spite of all of her misgivings, it still felt right to have him there, by her side, and yet she knew she was not fully ready to declare herself entirely his.
As they lay together, their sweat cooling on their skin, reality began to nudge its way back into her mind. Her father had still been murdered by a rival club; this rival club still wanted her dead; and of course, this incredibly dangerous, sexy man wanted her to declare herself part of the Lost Disciples—and through extension, exclusively his.
It was not as though Natasha did not have strong feelings for Griffin; he carried a deliciously magnetic pull from which she could not seem to get away. She knew more than most what becoming Griffin’s “Old Lady” would entail; she had seen that exact thing rip apart her family so many years ago. Could she really do that to herself all over again?
With a tender slowness, Griffin withdrew from her and rolled onto his side, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her towards him. She melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth of him, how solid he was. This was an embrace that would protect her from danger, and yet, the pit in her stomach grew.
“You know I am willing to help,” she said. He snapped out of his post-coital dozing and looked to her.
“Help?”
“You know, with everything, the Disciples, going up against the Los Diablos…”
“So you are in?” His eyes glittered with surprise and even more want. Natasha shook her head slightly.
“No. Right now I will help, but I can’t be in yet.”
If he was disappointed, he did not show it. Natasha was actually impressed to see that, knowing that it probably went against everything he was told about locking down a woman. She watched him gather his thoughts before coming up with what to say next.
“You can’t really help unless you are fully in,” he warned her. She bit back her immediate desire to come to her own defense, instead taking her own time to gather her thoughts.
“Of course I can,” she said reasonably. “You can loop me in without adding me to the club.”
“I do not know how the others would like that.”
“Who cares? What kind of badass biker are you if you always do what you are told?”
A spark of mischief lit in his eyes, and she knew that she had hit on something. She watched him tease the thought of it all in his mind, before he finally cut his eyes at her and smiled.
“You think you’re smart, don’t you?”
“I don’t think, I know.”
He laughed, but it was not dismissive. Natasha liked that about him; they may butt heads from time to time, but she never felt as though he was dismissing her in any way. That was more than she could say for the boys from her past; she guessed that’s what happened when it came to seeing a man.
And yet why her hesitation? She could be his completely if she just said the word. It was supposed to be simple, was not it?
He rolled away from her and moved to grab his boxers that were strewn somewhere on the floor. Natasha did not like the idea that he was not going to spend the night, but she could hardly ask him where he was going, right? She was not clingy like most girls, but the idea of him leaving made her feel sorrier than she expected to.
With his jeans on, he turned to see her facial expression and grinned.
“You are not going to miss me already, are you?”
&nb
sp; She snorted. “Hardly.”
“Good, because I’ll be back soon.”
He leaned over to kiss her, and she could not stop the question from tumbling out of her mouth. “Where are you going?”
For a second she did not think that he was going to answer, and then she thought that the answer was probably going to be something terrible—“Out to meet up with my other girl” perhaps—and the thought of it flooded her with an ugly sort of jealousy. Gathering her strength, she dismissed it; it did not become her.
“I am headed to a meeting with the Disciples,” he said, as he threw his shirt on. “We are going to discuss what happened to Manny—I mean, your dad—and then come up with a plan.”
Natasha narrowed her eyes. “What kind of plan?”
He shot her a look that clearly expressed that not only was she fully aware of what kind of plan, but also that he did not want to say it out loud and confirm everything she was thinking. They had a tense stare-off for a minute or two before he conceded. “What they did to Emanuel, killing him and then attacking his funeral…we can’t let that stand. You know that, right?”
She did know that. She knew he was going to say that, and yet, she still wished that it was not true. Pulling the sheets up to cover her naked body, she thought about anything she could possibly say that could be helpful in the situation—but came up with nothing. Instead, she just gave a little shrug.
“Have a good time, I suppose.”
He looked at her as though she had decided to spontaneously speak French. “It is kind of hard to have a good time when you are planning revenge.”
His deadpan delivery made her smile a little bit. “Well, at least try.”
He grinned and crawled over the bed to give her a kiss good-bye. She grabbed him by the back of the head to keep him there longer, feeling the heat of him, remembering the passion they had just shared. His tongue probed between her lips and brushed against hers, and she had to push him away to stop herself from taking it all further again.
“Be careful,” she said, and she meant it.
“I always am,” he replied.
He gave her one final quick kiss good-bye and left her side, heading to the door and walking out into the night. She shivered even though she was not cold and pulled the blanket up over her body.
Natasha Morrison, she thought with wonder, what have you gotten yourself into?
Chapter 15
When Griffin arrived at the Lost Disciples’ clubhouse, he was not surprised to see it packed to the gills. Ever since Emanuel had died, there was a spirit of rebellion in the air, a desire to finally get those Los Diablos once and for all. Griffin had noticed this for the past few days, and although he hated to admit it, there seemed to be a measure of relief among the men. For too long this uneasy truce had been just that, a truce, but now that the Los Diablos had drawn first blood, they were allowed to do whatever they wanted. The floodgates had opened.
Inside the clubhouse was a beat-up old pool table that one of the guys had picked up at some dive bar that was closing down thanks to the recession. Already a game had been racked, and several guys were standing around, drinking beer and preparing to dive into a game. They all went momentarily quiet at Griffin’s entrance, mostly out of respect for the new vice president. It struck Griffin as odd—although he should have been expecting it. He had been gaining respect in the Disciples for quite some time, and yet, there was something about this that was different. It was respect for his title and not his deeds.
The title came from the deeds, he reminded himself, as he crossed over to the cooler and picked up a bottle of beer. There was not any point in not drinking, but he hoped that the alcohol wouldn’t lead to any fool hardy decisions.
There was a sort of office in the back where Damon was holed up, talking seriously to some of the closer members of the inner circle before he came out to talk to the rest of them. Looking around, Griffin noticed that a lot of representatives from the four chapters were there, and he thought that was good. It was a good thing to present a united front in the face of adversity.
The occasional biker floozy hung around, and Griffin really hoped that they would get kicked out before the real discussion began. Occasionally, one would try to catch his eye, and he wondered if he had ever slept with her before, not like it mattered now. Natasha was not like these girls. She was more, so why would some girl in a tank top stretched across someone else’s bike turn his head?
Of course, the Griffin from the week before would be shocked to see the Griffin of today hung up on some girl, but then again, the Griffin from the week before had never met Natasha.
God, why did she have to be Emanuel’s daughter? What kind of luck was that? he thought.
While he was waiting for Damon to be free enough for him to slip in, Griffin hung around and watched the guys shoot pool. Every so often someone could come up and give him condolences over the death of Emanuel. He accepted them gracefully, knowing that he had to accept them, given the fact that he had pretty much kept to himself at the funeral before all hell broke loose. He just gave a tight smile, nodded, and sipped at his beer. Each condolence only served to remind him that Emanuel was gone.
He could only imagine how Natasha felt about it, considering the fact that Emanuel was her father. As far as he knew, she had not been particularly close to him, but still. If Griffin could remember his father, he wondered if it would bother him to hear that he had died. Who knew? Maybe his father was already dead.
“Hey Griffin, want to play a round?” one of the guys asked, as he chalked up his pool cue. Bombay was his name. He was a skinny sort of dude, quick on the trigger, but decent enough to have around in a fight, and Griffin had had his fair share of fights with Bombay at his back. Griffin glanced over at the office and saw that it was empty enough for him to slip in and finish his beer.
“Can’t yet. Gotta talk to the boss.”
Bombay nodded and went back to his game, as Griffin walked over to the office. Damon Stokes, the new president of the Disciples, sat in the chair that Emanuel used to sit in. It was still a bit of a jarring sight to Griffin, which he expected, given the fact that it had only been a few days since Emanuel was put in the ground. Damon was a relatively clean cut man who stuck out around the bearded and tattooed members of the club, but he did well enough. Emanuel had at least trusted him enough to put him in such a high position.
The office had changed slightly since Damon had taken power. When Emanuel had been the president of the Lost Disciples, the office had been controlled chaos, full of papers and photographs, full of vests and guns. It was like some sort of demented grandfather’s workshop, a place an old guy could go in his dotage, just with more weaponry.
If Griffin admitted it to himself, he knew that Emanuel was getting a little old for his job. The fact that he had a twenty-year-old daughter was relatively surprising to him, given his age, but he remembered the age of the women that Emanuel favored, so it was safe to say that Natasha’s mom had probably been relatively young when Natasha was born.
Damon moved to stand as Griffin walked in, and Griffin shook his head to indicate that it was not necessary. Damon seated himself and leaned back, waiting for what Griffin had to say.
It was awkward for a moment. Griffin had assumed that he should have been there from the very start, given his position, so it was not as though he had any business to discuss with him at this second.
“So, you have a plan set up?” Griffin asked.
Damon looked startled at the direct question before it was quickly replaced by a face he could have used while playing poker.
“We’re going to talk about it first,” Damon said. “I think everyone deserves to be heard.”
It was not a terrible idea, but it was a little more touchy feely than Griffin would have liked. What, the Disciples were going to go around and talk about their feelings? It was war; there was no point in discussing anything but a well-planned attack against their rivals.
Perso
nally, Griffin was thinking about picking off the enemy one by one during more sensitive drops. The Los Diablos also ran narcotics and guns across the border, and the middle of drop was when they were most vulnerable. It would take patience, but it would hit the Los Diablos where it hurt…in their money. The more dangerous the runs became, the less chumps would be willing to run them, and pretty soon the Los Diablos would start starving.
It was a pretty damn good idea, if Griffin said so himself, and he hoped the guys agreed.
After a couple of minutes, Damon stood up and made his way into the main area of the clubhouse. Putting on his best “vice president” face, Griffin joined him, walking a couple of steps behind in order to look as though he was backing him up. It was mostly for appearances, but a united front was better than nothing.
