Solid Gold (Unseen Enemy Book 8)

by Marysol James

  In the direction of the bedroom.

  Griff took his time, took measured steps. He had the feeling that she'd be hiding, and sure enough, when he got to the bedroom, Claire was nowhere to be seen. He laughed again, shook his head.

  “You want me to find you, do you?” he said, his voice hoarse with excitement. “Well, no problem, baby. I like games... especially games where I win, no matter how they play out. Because I'm gonna find you – that's a given, 'cause this place ain't all that big – and when I do, you're gonna get your sweet little ass spanked for making me work so hard.”

  Slowly, enjoying the hunting and the chase, he crept around the bedroom. He looked in the closet, under the bed, behind the curtains. No Claire. Grinning, he walked down to the bathroom, and checked behind the drawn shower curtain. Still no sign of the woman, and since that was basically it in terms of her rooms, he figured that she'd doubled back into the living room when his back had been turned. He undid his jeans now, started to stroke his cock as he walked slowly, stealthily back down the hallway.

  “Oh, baby,” he said, in full predator mode. “I'm coming for you... you'd better be ready for me.”

  He entered the living room, and the sight that met his eyes stopped him dead in his tracks, stopped the breath in his chest.

  There was Claire, totally naked. She was bent over at the waist, her hands on the wall in front of her, her legs spread wide, her pert ass on full display. She turned her head to look at him; he saw that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright.

  “What the –” Griff gulped. “Claire...”

  “You said you'd spank me,” she said. “So... I got ready for you.”

  Griff was, literally, unable to speak. He knew that Claire liked a bit of dominance, liked a bit of kink... but he never thought that she'd actually go for this. He walked over to her, still impossibly slowly, giving her the chance to change her mind if she wanted to. She stayed in place, though, watching his approach, watching him stroking his hardness, her breath coming faster now, becoming more shallow. No man had ever spanked her before, and she'd never even thought that she'd wanted a man to spank her... but something about Griff doing it made her so hot, she was almost dizzy.

  He was right behind her now. “Face the wall.”

  Without a word, she did as he said.

  Griff stared down at her, loving how beautiful she was in her sweet submission. He ran his fingers over her back, a teasing, lazy trail of fire, loving the effect that even that small touch had on her. She shuddered, and he paused. Just for a second. Then he gave her a little smack on her right cheek. Not hard; not hurtful. A light, experimental tap.

  “Oh,” she breathed. “Oh...”

  “You like that, baby?” he asked, caressing the place that he'd just spanked. “Or you want me to stop?”

  “I like it.” Her words were low, hot. “Don't stop.”

  He smiled, still running his hands over her perfect ass. She waited, holding her breath, and when he lightly spanked her again, she jolted, cried out in pleasure. She had no idea why this felt so good, all she knew was that it did. It didn't hurt, and she didn't want it to hurt, but the sharp little sting before the gentle caress was... well. It was amazing. The contrast between a bit rough and a bit tender was a major turn-on, and it was one that Claire had never experienced before.

  Griff slipped his one hand between her legs now, and she cried out again, louder, higher. He rubbed her clit, then gave her another smack as he slid a finger inside her. She screamed at that, she actually screamed, and her back arched helplessly. God, she was soaked and she was begging, and he knew that he had to make love to her. Now.

  “Baby,” he said roughly, his finger moving in and out of her pussy. “I don't have anything with me.”

  “Bedroom,” she said, the word almost a whimper. “My bedside table.”

  “Don't move,” he ordered her. “You stay exactly like this until I come back.”

  Claire nodded, then groaned as he withdrew his finger from her pulsing, aching sex. She heard him walk down the hallway, heard him open the drawer in the bedside table, heard the crinkle of the condom wrapper, heard him approach her again. And that whole time, she stayed where she was: legs trembling and open, hands clenched into fists on the wall, heart pounding and pussy fluttering.

  Suddenly, he was on her, his cock nudging her from behind, his hands on her hips. Claire whimpered again, pushed back against him.

  “How do you want me, kitten?” he muttered. “Hard and fast? Slow and sweet? You tell me what you want, Claire, and that's what we'll do.”

  “Fast,” she gasped. “Fast and deep. I want to feel like you're really taking me, John, like you're making me yours at last.”

  She expected him to enter her then, so when he yanked her up roughly and spun her around to face him, she was so surprised that she stumbled. He caught her, though, and pressed her up against the wall with his whole body.

  “John...”

  He didn't answer her; he didn't say a word. He just lifted her right leg up and to the side, holding her firmly. Now she was wide open to him, open and hot and so damn ready, and he kissed her.

  “I love you,” he said as he entered her body at long last. “I love you, Claire.”

  “Oh, God...” Her head fell back against the wall as he claimed her. Claimed her fast and deep; claimed her totally. “John... I love you too.”

  No more words passed between them after that. Murmurs, sighs, gasps, groans... those were all uttered as they found nothing less than pure, perfect bliss in each other, against in other, with each other.

  But no more words.

  They had already said all that really needed to be said.

  **

  Claire lay in John's arms, watching the snow falling outside her bedroom window. He was stroking her back in lazy, meandering movements that still somehow felt possessive. She sighed, and his hand stilled.

  “Doing OK?" he asked her quietly. “I wasn't too rough?”

  She smiled, a bit amused that he was still worried about this almost an hour later. Yes, he'd spanked her, and yes, he'd taken her hard and he'd taken her deep... but that's what she'd asked for. That's what she'd wanted. That's what she'd needed.

  “I'm fine. Really.” She kissed his gorgeous chest, kissed his lips. “I loved every second of it, I swear to you. You don't need to worry, sexy... I'm good.”

  She felt his whole large body fully relax now, and he nodded. She propped her chin in her hand and got up on one elbow, looked down at him in the half-light. He gazed right on back at her, those green eyes warm and adoring.

  “What's up, baby?” he asked her gruffly. “You ready for round two?”

  “In a minute.”

  “You got something else to do right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “OK.” He grinned at her, thinking for about the hundredth time that her being back in his life was nothing short of a miracle. “What is it?”

  “I have something that I really want to tell you. I've wanted to tell you for a while, and I really want you to know this. It's important to me, John.”

  “OK.” Puzzled and a bit concerned, wondering if something was wrong, Griff sat up too. “Shoot.”

  “Do you know why I really love you?”

  He paused, relieved that it was nothing bad on her mind after all. “Why, kitten?”

  “Because when you look at me, I feel so… so completely seen.” She stopped as emotion welled up in her, making it hard to talk. She collected herself, then carried on. “You – you see me, John. I feel like nobody has before you. Not my family, not the women in New York, sure as hell not my ex. But you – you do. And everytime you look at me and you see me, I feel... I feel so damn beautiful. So wanted. So cherished. So – loved.”

  Touched, moved, humbled, Griff gazed at her. Then he raised one hand to gently stroke her hair as he spoke.

  “You are, Claire. You are beautiful, and wanted, and cherished, and seen. And loved, baby, y
ou are just so loved. With me, you were always all of those things… and you always will be. That's a promise.”

  And for the rest of their lives together – a honeymoon in Paris, and thirty-six years of marriage, and two boys, and four grandchildren – John Griffin kept that promise to Claire. Even through the rough patches, and the arguments, and the times apart because of work or travel, she never felt anything but beautiful, and wanted, and cherished, and seen.

  And loved.

  So, so damn loved.

  Epilogue

  Emma disconnected the call with Beth, and met Dean's eye from across their living room. He tickled Frankie's tummy, and the little boy giggled wildly. It was a sound that Emma and Dean were both totally and unapologetically addicted to.

  “And?” Dean said.

  “And...” Emma paused, teasing him a bit, making him wait. “Pregnant.”

  “Woohoo!” Dean said and Frankie looked up at his father, a bit startled. “Way to go, Beth and Jim!”

  “That just leaves Jenny to get final confirmation, huh?” Emma said, stroking her own stomach. It was still pretty flat, but she loved knowing that a little girl was taking shape and form in there. “She says that Chris won't trust the positive home pregnancy test. Says he wants an official doctor's 'yes' before he gets all excited.”

  “Weird for Chris to be all hung up on that,” Dean commented. “I wonder why he is.”

  “Well, because they were so worried that Jenny wouldn't be able to get pregnant, after all that trauma that she went through. The internal damage was extensive, and the doctors just weren't sure.”

  Dean's face darkened at the mention of Jenny's horrible ordeal, and he took a deep breath. For the life of him, he'd never understand how Jenny had survived that, how she'd gotten through that, how she'd put her whole damn life back together after that. He'd seen bravery in battle, but he'd never seen bravery like Jenny's. Never.

  “Anyway,” Emma said, seeing the look on her future-husband's face, and changing the subject. “It's amazing, isn't it?”

  “What is?” Dean said. “All four of you ladies being pregnant at the exact same time? Because me and the boys are already starting to talk less about sports and more about damn minivans and tree houses.”

  Emma laughed. “Well, yeah. That is pretty amazing, but that's not what I'm talking about.”

  “So what are you talking about, angel?”

  “About – about all of it. About you and me and Frankie, and our friends being married or getting married, and all these babies on the way... and to think, it all began with us having a no-strings-attached, totally-anonymous, one-night-stand. To think that we were never supposed to see each other again after that one night.”

  Dean stopped and really thought about that. Emma was right, he knew, and he took a minute to fully appreciate how much his life had changed – how much all of their lives had changed – since that totally random night at Shooter's Bar, when he'd looked to one side and seen Emma standing there. Short, curvy, smart as hell, with a smile that had just lit up the whole damn room. He'd taken her home that night with no expectations and no intentions – and now he couldn't imagine his life without her, and he didn't want to.

  “I guess it all began with us, didn't it?” he said. “We brought everyone together, in a weird way, and now here we all are. It's been one hell of a ride, huh?”

  Emma smiled at him now, the pure, shining smile that had caught and held his attention that first night at the bar, the smile that still damn near brought him to his knees with love and lust everytime he saw it.

  “Oh, yeah, babe,” she said. “It has been one hell of a ride... and there are still years and years of things to come. More babies and grandbabies, and new houses and jobs, and new friends. It's been good and it's been damn good... but we've got plenty of living left to do, and plenty of happiness still to know, and I don't just mean us... I mean all of us.” Emma grinned, loving how it had all begun, loving how it wasn't quite ready to end. “It's not over yet, Dean. Not by a long shot.”

  **

  Dear Reader,

  I very much hope that you enjoyed following the individual and group stories of the ‘Unseen Enemy’ characters. With this book, their stories officially conclude, since ‘Solid Gold’ is the final book in this series. Thank you so much for falling in love with these characters, and for caring about their stories... I love them and am having a hard time saying goodbye to them once and for all, so maybe (just maybe!) you'll catch little glimpses of them in some of my other books, every once in a while.

  Having said all of this, I can now announce that I’ll be publishing a new series in the early autumn, and it will spin off from both this series and the ‘Dangerous Curves’ series. It will be called ‘The Road Devils MC’ (yes, the Road Devils, like Wolf Connor and Cole’s MC). Book 1 will be called ‘The Devil’s Scars’ and it will be Scars and Zoe’s story. I’m giving you a lengthy sneak peek here, four chapters' worth actually, so I hope you like it!

  Warmly, Marysol

  Chapter One

  When Zoe Parish clapped eyes on Wolf Connor for the first time in more than six years, her immediate thought was, Goddamn. That man must have made a deal with the devil, because nobody? Can look that fucking good without divine – or more probably – dastardly intervention.

  He was still tall, of course, still strapping and muscular. His face was hard and handsome, and damned if the lines around his eyes and mouth didn’t look good on him. Speaking of which: his steel-gray eyes were still as scary-as-hell, his mouth the same almost-cruel line that was somehow sexual and sensual and made women think of it caressing and probing their lips. Both sets.

  When he saw her walk into Blue Dragon Ink, he jumped to his feet. Now that startled her. She’d known he was eager as hell to get her here, but that actual leap out of his chair showed her just how badly he needed her. And Wolf wasn’t a man who needed much beyond the club – he never had.

  “Zee,” he said, and she noticed how her whole body reacted to him saying her name. Yeah, his voice was the same, too: deep and husky and all sexy-dark. It’s how drinking whiskey naked on a sultry summer night would sound if it could develop the ability to speak. “You’re here.”

  “I am.” Zoe set her backpack on the floor next to the front counter, and watched as two-hundred-plus pounds of hot, hard man strode across the floor to her. “I made good time.”

  He opened those massive arms and she just stepped on in, let him pull her up and close. Yeah, his chest was as impressive as ever, and she smiled up at him. Holy hell, she’d missed him.

  “Lookin’ good, baby girl,” he said, that mouth curled up in a devastating grin as he growled out his pet name for her. “I like the longer hair.”

  “Yeah?” She pushed it back and off her face and shoulders. “I was thinking about cutting it. Fucking hassle.”

  “Don’t.” Wolf shook his head, and stepped back. “Looks hot. And we need some hot around this place, trust me.”

  “I haven’t said yes to your offer, Wolf.”

  “But you’re here,” he countered. “So you’re thinkin’ about it.”

  “No. I’m here to talk about it.”

  “Awful long way to come for a chat, Zee.” He shrugged his shoulders, and she saw the muscles ripple even through his t-shirt. “North Dakota ain’t exactly a hop, skip and a jump from Colorado, is it?”

  She stayed silent. Wolf knew the score, and so she saw no need to tell him things he was already totally aware of.

  Wolf stared down at Zoe, a bit taken aback at how happy he was to see her, and at how great she looked. Yeah, OK, she also looked wiped out, but several days of driving would do that to anyone. Throw in all the shit that had been dumped into her life over the past year, and you got one tired, stressed-out woman. What he was offering her could change things for her for the better, he knew; all he had to do was convince Zee. And truth be told, that wasn’t going to be easy.

  “So.” He ushered her over to t
he sofa, sat her down. “You want to shoot the breeze over a morning beer or just get right to it?”

  She leaned back, those dark green eyes as sharp and whip-smart as he remembered them. “No beer. Hit me with it, Wolf, and I mean all of it. Give me your hardest, best sell.”

  “No wastin’ time, huh?”

  “Nope. No bullshit, either. You be straight with me. I’ll know if you’re lying to me.” Her smile was disarmingly sweet, and he immediately flashed back to Zee at the age of ten. “I always know when you lie to me.”

  “That is the goddamn truth, baby girl.” Wolf paused to collect his thoughts, then launched right in. “So. You know I took over the Road Devils Presidency almost a year ago after Wheels died, but what you may not know is what a fuckin’ hard time I’ve had since then. I mean trouble recently – not all that shit in the beginnin’.”

  “Some guy named Kansas filled me in a bit over the phone the day before I left Fargo.”

  “Yeah, I asked him to since I was on the road that day.” He ran one large hand through his dark hair, down over the stubble on his defined cheekbones. “You needed to know that the situation is… in flux.”

  Zoe already had serious reservations about all of this, but Wolf’s cagey manner made her tense up even more. Those walls that she’d built up over the past six years got a bit higher, a bit thicker, and Wolf’s already-challenging sell got way tougher to buy into.

  “Be more specific,” Zoe said. “What kind of hard time and trouble are we talking about here?”

  “Serious resistance to my changes in the club.”

  “No surprise there,” she said. “The Road Devils MC has always run drugs, and been big into the illegal strip clubs. When you shut all that down and left the world of the one-percenters, you really thought everyone would be thrilled with the loss of income?”