Black and White (Storm's Soldiers MC Book 1)

by Notaro, Paige

  A bunch of college kids were setting up at the table next to use and a couple of them had glanced over at his sermon. I couldn’t figure out what they were, but they sure weren’t white. One tossed me a look, as if asking what I was doing with Thurge. I scowled back. He might be a wiseass, but he was my sworn brother. I’d backed him on the playground and I’d back him on a battlefield – if it came to that. I slung my jacket back on and zipped it up tight so everyone could see our pale mare of a logo.

  Thurge missed the first try, but I scratched and he got another chance. I watched his eyes to see where he would go, and caught again that other pair of darker eyes from over his shoulder. She flicked over my jacket, taking in the bold white name. Now she’d know what I was. But it didn’t chase her off like it had the college kids. That warm look dripped over my body, her eyes half shut as if I were a dream to her. I sat mesmerized by her inky gaze.

  “Hey, what the fuck?”

  Thurge’s roar slammed me out of it. The college kid it was aimed at still had his butt up in the air lining up his shot. The back of the stick jabbed out unseen at my buddy’s nose again. Thurge grabbed the guy and flipped him around. The guy looked confused but his other three friends lined up next to him like a brown picket fence. I shot up and flexed.

  “You trying to start something, darkie?” Thurge spat into their faces.

  “Sorry?” the prick with the cue asked back with a lilting high voice. I snorted and sat back down. Indians, fresh imports too – Thurge could handle the whole damn continent of ‘em.

  “Not as sorry as I am to smell that curry breath,” Thurge said. “Why don’t you take that stick and go back home to wipe the shit off your streets?”

  “Hey, fuck you, man,” one of his buddies yelled out in a hilarious accent, but one look from Thurge wilted him.

  “You wanna fuck qwik-e-mart?” Thurge said. “Cause I got a stick right here that’s looking for a home.” He whapped the cue across his hand.

  The four of them shrank back. Every eye in the bar sat witness to their disgrace, but a massive black man was working his way over to us.

  “Hey,” he shouted as he marched up. “What’s all the hubbub?”

  “This man, he is being racist,” one of the Indians shouted.

  “Oh, I’m no racist, boy,” Thurge muttered. “Until you crossed the line separating us, I had no beef with you. Heh, no beef, get it?”

  He chuckled at his own joke. Even I smirked.

  “I heard the things you told them,” the bouncer said. “Now, I’ll give you a chance to apologize like a man, or I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

  The fire lit up behind Thurge’s amber eyes. I’d seen that look before. I shot back to my feet as he said, “I ain’t got nothing to apologize to these towel heads for.”

  “That’s it,” the giant said. “You’re out.”

  “Fuck you, Sambo. This four eyed prick assaulted me. I got the right to sling a few choice words back.”

  “Not those ones.” The bouncer’s massive paw landed on Thurge’s shoulder, but he swatted it off like a fly.

  “Thurge.” I went over and patted his back. Our bikes were saddled with hot weapons – the serial numbers were stamped loud and clear. Now wasn’t the time.

  I was almost eye-to eye with the bouncer. He glanced at my colors and shook his head. “Both of you have got to go right now.”

  “It’s your lucky day,” I growled, then turned to Thurge. “Come on, hoss, let’s ride. At least we drank for free.”

  Thurge locked eyes and shook his head once.

  Aw, fuck.

  “I’ll go,” he said to the bouncer. “I’ll leave this mud-puddle, but my friend ain’t done a thing. He’ll stay.”

  I held firm, but I just wanted to sigh. He wanted me to stay and follow these guys out. That’s what that head shake had meant. I’d find out where the Indians lived so he could pay them a more personal visit.

  “You sure?” I asked. “You don’t want me to go?”

  “I’m sure, brother. Don’t worry. I’ll take your stuff home with me. Take all the time you need. ”

  He slapped me on the back, made a go at the bouncer, then stalked out.

  “You be good,” the black guy said to me. I stared back dead-eyed and he shrank to his post.

  I sank back into my booth. Thurge had a real fire and brimstone streak to him. It made a fine counter with my live and let live protocol most of the time, but I hated when the balance tipped over to him. I’d helped him out with his little revenges before but the broken bones and open assault warrants left in his wake were more trouble than they were worth. At least other times, the source of conflict had been a real fight, but this had barely been a quarrel. I’d have his back, but unleashing him on them didn’t seem to quite suit the situation. I’d slash a few tires and tell him to call it even.

  The Indians were setting up their triangle again. It was gonna be a while. I snapped my fingers for another drink, something with enough to dull the edge. It was the wrong day to be alone with my thoughts.

  “How we doing over here?” A voice sang out.

  I’d heard it just a couple times, but its melody had already found a home in my memory. I knew whose face I’d find beaming down, so I took my time getting there. The waitress had on low heels that made her wide hips rise pleasantly, a grey shirt with a Volcano logo that barely contained the full blooms of flesh up top and dark silky hair that bobbed behind her neck.

  I landed on her face and found her flashing a smile as bright as any light in here. We stewed in a silent gaze. Her eyes were caramel up close and they flicked across me like splashes of sweet syrup.

  “Two fingers of whiskey,” I said. “A nice amber one.”

  “Aren’t all whiskies amber?”

  “No, some are dark, some are light.” Her bare arms dangled inches away from me and I ticked my head at them. “I want one like you.”

  Her cheeks went from amber to auburn at that, and I felt my own heat rise.

  Vaughn, what the hell are you up to?

  It was out now. I sank back and watch her face tumble through thoughts.

  “So,” she said softly, “You want a piece of me to drink up?”

  Her words came out low and sultry and sweet all at once. Goddamn, I wanted to suck her voice dry.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  She winked and flipped back around. I took a long pass at the way she wagged off – how each edge of her rear popped up as she switched through steps. I could barely tear my eyes away. Thurge might have been in one of his funks tonight, but I was in a mood I’d never been in before.

  Mixing was wrong. I knew that. But was it still mixing if you didn’t end up with a product? It wasn’t a question that I’d even had to consider before tonight.

  An hour ago, I would have said “hell, yes.”

  Without Thurge’s restraint, my mind offered a dozen loopholes. It was amazing how easy a female figure could make you could shed twenty-three years of discipline.

  She peeked over her shoulder from the bar, her dark eyes furrowed at my turmoil. All I could imagine was that same look, peering up at me, her face erupting into a moan as I slid into her.

  Fuck it, whatever code the Storm’s Soldiers had, it also included getting what we wanted. And I wanted her.

  I glanced at the table of Indians. Screw Thruge’s pissant revenge.

  It wasn’t them I planned on following home tonight.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Meagan

  I steadied myself at the bar and forced myself not to look again.

  Why was I shivering? Oh yes, I’d seen the naked lust written all over that jutting white face, but I’d heard his friend. What kind of man would keep company like that?

  A fierce one. One solid enough to keep his head against the wind of other’s opinions. He hadn’t let his racist friend keep him from staring my way all night, had he? I trembled again at the thought of those blue gems digging into me.

  Jean
nie frowned as she filled up the glass. “Mea-gan,” she said, drawing it out.

  “It’s fine,” I said.

  “I thought you didn’t go for white boys.”

  “I don’t. We’re just flirting.”

  “Uh- huh. Then why do I get the feeling I could fill up this cup by squeezing your panties?”

  “Gross. Ugh.”

  “Yes.” She leaned over the bar, her dark hair spreading around her face like a cloak. “Home in on that disgust. That’s how you should be feeling about him. He’s white trash.”

  “I’m familiar with white trash.” I loaded the lone whiskey onto my tray.

  “No, you know the stereotypes. You didn’t grow up with them as family. The pretty ones are all messed up. You said it yourself – he’s probably slinging meth”

  “He’s just here drinking,” I said. “And I’m just gonna go serve him that drink.”

  I barely heard the sigh from her as I walked off. The sight of that powerful angular face waiting for me struck all thoughts from my mind. Who was I kidding? I was infatuated. Maybe he was trash, but at least he advertised it. That left me to be the informed consumer of his product.

  Nothing wrong with junk food, if it didn’t become a habit.

  “This is the best I could find,” I said, setting the liquid down in front of him.

  “Actually, it’s not,” he said. “If you’ll recall my request it was very specific.”

  I always played up my Southern twang – growing up in Atlanta didn’t equip me with a natural one. This man’s words though, poured out like molasses. I could almost feel him seep down my spine, feel his presence linger long after those hard lips of his stopped moving.

  “I… can go look again,” I said.

  “I think we can find what I need right here if we search a bit harder.” His hand landed on my bare arm. A thunderstorm raged up my body, powering up all the nerve ends that had lain untouched for months. The weight of his grip was intense, the rough strength of it dragging me down deep into him. All it would take was a curl of the fingers, a tug and I would fall into his lap.

  “I’ve got to work,” I whispered - for myself as much as him.

  “Fine, I’ll take this for now.” He held up the drink. “But when your shift is done, we’re gonna go get exactly what I want.”

  That crystal gaze left no room for question. “Ok,” I said, meekly.

  He lilted his head. “Go on. Let me see how you work. And bring me back a big tumbler of this.”

  I wobbled off with my tray. I’d wanted his attention, well I had it now. It was almost too much to take. My exes had all been meek up front, prodding and poking and winding their ways around me until they coaxed me open. This man knew what he wanted, knew he’d get it and wasn’t keen on biding his time.

  I took my own shot of whiskey to steady myself, then handed off the bottle to my murky pale prince. He threw me a cold smile that made me lock up. He was going to drink me up as easy as the whiskey. I hoped I was ready.

  More people were leaving than coming by now, and soon the trickle turned into an outpour. I did my best to stay on the patio, away from that piercing gaze. One couple was left, pecking gently at each other. I wanted to laugh. That biker’s voice had done more to my body than those pinprick lips of theirs could do to each other. The night warmed up as I peered back at the door and imagined that hard edged face waiting for me.

  Finally, the clock ticked midnight. I let the drunk lovers know they had to get frisky elsewhere. They stumbled off down the sidewalk. I took a deep breath and strode back in.

  He waited for me, etched like marble in the dim corner. Jeannie flicked her head at him. He had to get out.

  Lucky for her, that’s just where I planned on taking him.

  I tried to still my heart walking over, but it was my breath that stopped. He played with the rim of his empty glass and threw me something that was approaching a smile.

  “That wasn’t bad,” he said. “It was a fine appetizer.”

  “The whiskey?”

  “Watching you bounce around.”

  An ache opened at my center. A longing to hear more of that voice, to feel the strength backing it. Jeannie might not have been right about my panties before but I didn’t dare check them now. He looked downright at ease with the effect he had on me.

  “My shift’s over,” I said.

  “You should take that shirt off, then.”

  I shook my head and whispered, “Not here.”

  His features hardened. He popped up and tossed a few bills onto the table.

  “Where we headed?” he asked.

  “I live a few blocks away.”

  He nodded, but waited for my lead. I tried to put a little something in my walk for him to admire, but it was all I could do to keep one foot in front of the other. The heat of him at my back was like a furnace. It must be, what with the sweat starting to glisten my skin. Jeannie shot me several distinct looks of disapproval at the door, but I focused on Marissa wagging her fingers goodbye coyly. She knew what was up.

  We marched down the stairs and I started for the sidewalk.

  “Wait,” his voice rose from behind.

  I turned as he checked something on the saddle of his bike. It was a big twisted beast, but looking at it, I could only imagine the strength of that engine rumbling between my legs.

  “What’s the hold up?” I said. “I thought you only wanted one thing.”

  “Just making sure I don’t have anything I don’t want.” He slapped the straps shut, then came around, wrapping that thick arm across my shoulder. My body was his already.

  We took a silent stroll through Little Five Points. People loitered on the sidewalk outside bars, but with the weight of him at my side, they parted before us like we were an oncoming train. The biker’s intent was as solid as his body and everyone could tell.

  Just a couple blocks past the main avenue, the place turned decidedly residential: big suburban homes, all dark and still at this hour. The biker’s arm slipped down, landed around my waist. His hand lay on my hips and his fingers loitered dangerously near my core. It took all my concentration to make it the last couple blocks to the big blue colonial I rented a room in.

  At the door, he let go. I peeked back just to really make sure I still had my big white shadow, even though I’d heard him creak up the wooden steps. I’d always been a proper girl – never once had I taken a boy home like this, and certainly never anyone like the leather clad Greek statute searing me with his eyes.

  I must have waited too long, signaled that the porch itself was our destination. He reached out and cupped my chin. His fingers were gritty, but they rasped gently at my soft skin. He twirled me around and pulled my mouth to his. Traces of the whiskey I’d poured him seeped into me, making our kiss smell of smoke.

  I tried to sink back to my feet, but he would not let go. His arm curved around my rear and squeezed me up onto my toes. We were all up into each other now and I hadn’t even a lick of control. He crept his hand around my head and pulled my face harder to his. His lips sucked at mine, and he played at them with his tongue like they were exotic sweets. He gave my butt a fuller squeeze and I moaned. Bit by bit, this boy was working his way through every inch of me.

  I tried to speak, to tell him we should go in, but his tongue dove into my mouth. He pressed me back against the trembling screen door, letting me feel the hard line of him burning out of his pants. My jeans felt damp. I wished they would just dissolve so his fire could plunge into me.

  He must have read my mind, because he slickly started undoing the buttons of my jeans. My brain had been melting into a puddle, but the fabric pop woke the last bit that remained. I jangled my keys in his face. He grunted and traced his fingers down my panties. I gasped at that strength burning closer and closer to that gaping ache. I wouldn’t last if he found it – I would let him take me right here. Using every last bit of power I had, I kissed him clean off of me. His face sat hungry in the moonlight, but I
quickly turned and unlocked the door.

  We slipped in. Tara was out for the week, lucky me. I edged up to make sure she hadn’t made a surprise return, then flipped around and presented myself in a pane of moonlight. I was all his now.

  He strode forward carefully, letting the jacket fall back off him. When he entered the light, he was down to a sleeveless dark tee. I ached at all that pale gleaming strength unburdened and on display. That was more than enough to rattle any remaining funk out of my system and now it sat steaming the air just inches away. He prowled down at my face, his hot breath washing over me.

  “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” he said. “You like taking orders.”

  “I do.”

  “You gonna do everything I tell you tonight?”

  My mind wasn’t around to question what those things might be. “I will.”

  “Show me.”

  He wove his hand through my dark hair and gave me a vicious kiss. I could barely stay on my feet, but then his hands were on the small of my back, holding me into his advance. One crawled around my waist and slipped under panties. My body ached like a magnet, drawing him in, but he just teased my entrance.

  We staggered backwards down the hallway under his strength. My bedroom was upstairs, but I didn’t give a damn. I clenched the doorway of Tara’s bedroom, and my new beau swung us in. The room sat pitch black but for the moonlight from the hall. He threw me onto the white sheets and kicked off his jeans as he followed me on.

  “Baby, I hope you got bleach,” he said. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, the black is gonna shake off of you.”

  It was so fucking wrong, but the idea of being ridden that hard made me freaking hot. My jeans barely held my legs shut.

  His fingers found where they’d left off. They curved in under my panties and pressed into me and my world went white. I clenched as he thrust in and out.

  “You wanna fuck more than I do, don’t you?” he said.

  “Mm-hmm,” I whimpered.

  “Say it.”

  “I want you to fuck me so much.”

  “Good girl.”