by Dez Burke
“And you want to make a good impression on Daddy Dearest?” Sam asks, grinning broadly. He’s caught the tail end of our conversation. He walks across the room from the kitchen and hands me a bottle of beer.
“Well, I don’t want to make a bad one,” I reply dryly. “Are you two going to help me or not?”
Flint is the only man in the MC who owns a business suit or a tie. The rest of us live in our jeans, leather jackets, and riding boots. Up to now, I’ve never had a reason to need anything else to wear. I’m sincerely hoping the dinner tonight is a one-time deal. The thought of putting on a suit makes me itch and break out in a sweat.
“Lucky for you, I have a closet full of expensive suits that might fit,” he says. “I knew they would come in handy one day, so I kept them all in suit bags when I left the District Attorney’s office. I might even have a pair of shoes because the boots you’re wearing are definitely not going to work.”
He points down at my boots that are scuffed on the sides and dusty from the ride up. I hold up one foot to take a better look.
“What’s the issue? I think they’re alright. There’s not any holes in them. I can shine these up to be good as new. Don’t even think about handing me a pair of expensive loafers. These will do just fine.”
He motions for me to follow him into his bedroom, where he opens the door to a closet. Both sides are hanging full of business suits and fancy dress clothes that I’ve never seen Flint wear.
“You weren’t kidding,” I say. “You were a regular fashionista.”
After an hour of going through all the suits in his closet and Sam making jokes about every single one, we finally give up on the idea of my massive legs and muscular arms ever fitting into one of Flint’s suits. We’re the same height, but where he’s lean and mean, I’m all bulk and muscle.
I realize now it was a stupid idea from the start.
“Now what?” I say. “Got any other ideas? I need to be on the road soon to Atlanta.”
Flint carefully tucks the last suit back into a bag. “You must have another pair of pants in your closet,” he says. “You can’t wear jeans. Not to a country club dinner with the Mayor of Atlanta. Even for a biker, you need to show a bit of class.”
I try to think. When was the last time I had to dress up in anything besides my regular work or riding clothes? I remember.
“I have a pair of black pants that I wore to my Aunt’s funeral a couple of years ago. They might work if they’re not too tight.”
Flint thinks a minute, then nods. “That will be fine. What about a white shirt?”
“With buttons?” I ask.
“Preferably,” he replies dryly. “If you’re going to wear a tie.”
“Yeah, I have a white shirt. Dammit! I hate things around my neck. I feel like they’re choking me. Do I have to wear a tie?”
“Depends on how much you want to impress this girl. We’re talking two hours here, not a lifetime of suits and ties. Suck it up and wear the damn tie. It’s not going to fucking kill you.”
He reaches way back into the closet and pulls out a large black blazer.
“This was Jesse’s. Try it on.”
I slip on the black blazer. It’s a perfect fit.
“Now you’re in business,” Flint says. “It looks good on you.” He takes out a hanger with several colorful ties and starts holding them up to my face one at a time.
“What the hell are you doing now?” I ask. “I think you might be enjoying all this clothes design stuff a little too much. Do you have a secret life you want to tell us about?”
I’m joking and he ignores me.
“I’m trying to match the color of your eyes,” he says. “Trust me. Your girl will appreciate the extra effort I’m putting in here.”
He holds up his final choice, a blue striped tie.
“I remember the last time I wore this tie,” he says, serious for a moment. “It was my final day in the District Attorney’s office in Atlanta. Jesse called me during my lunch break to say that it was time for me to come back home. The Steel Infidels needed me. And more importantly, my brothers needed me too. I knew Jesse would never have made the call if it wasn’t necessary.”
“Was that when the Liberators killed Tommy? Sam told me about it in a letter.”
Flint nods. “I cancelled my appointments for the rest of the day, drove home, and stripped out of my suit and tie. My Steel Infidels black leather jacket was hidden way back in the closet. I put it there where I couldn’t see it. Where I wouldn’t be reminded of what I’d left behind. I remember pulling it out that day and slipping it on. The minute the soft leather touched my bare skin, I knew I was home again.”
“Do you ever regret leaving Atlanta and coming back home?” I ask. I’ve never talked to Flint about his time there or why he went in the first place.
“Never,” he replies. “Not for a moment. I’ll never leave the Steel Infidels again.” He presses the tie into my hand and grows quiet for a moment. “We’re family, which means we’re always here for you. Your last name might not be Mason, but you’re still our brother just the same. Right, Sam?”
Sam slaps me on the back. “Toby knows that already. You don’t need to tell him. We’ve been brothers since what? Seventh grade?”
I nod, knowing I don’t need to say anything. I feel the same way about all of the Steel Infidels. I don’t know how I would have made it this far without them.
I wouldn’t have. No way.
“You had better get going,” Flint says. “Your girl is waiting for you. Make us proud.”
39
Toby
I pull up to the gated entrance of Maggie’s apartment complex and punch in the four-digit code she gave me. The double gates slowly slide open and I drive my truck through. To the right is the entrance to a 15-story parking deck. I’m supposed to enter the code again and then park on the 10th level.
I drive into the dark garage and start making my way up the levels. The lighting is dim and every corner is blind.
Just the kind of place I hate to be.
By the time I’ve rounded the corner for the third floor, my anxiety level begins to rise. It’s been happening too much lately. Ever since the shooting, I’ve been on edge.
I can’t imagine why Maggie would want to live in an apartment where it takes twenty minutes to get from her door to the ground outside. What an ordeal to go through every time you want to leave a place. I don’t like the parking deck. It doesn’t feel safe. Maggie works crazy hours, and the thought of her driving home alone every night makes me uneasy.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I finally reach the 10th level and find a parking spot where my big truck will barely fit. When I walk up to the door of the building, there’s yet another code to be entered before it will open. I wander down the quiet carpeted hallway searching for 703 and hesitate in the hallway when I find it.
I straighten the jacket of my Marine uniform, take a deep breath, and knock lightly. At the last minute, I changed my mind and decided to wear my uniform instead of the blazer and black pants we’d decided on. Somehow it seemed more appropriate for the occasion, and it’s the only dress outfit I feel comfortable wearing.
Maggie opens the door and her mouth drops in surprise. “Oh my God!” she finally says, grabbing my hand and tugging me inside. “You look incredible.” She steps back to carefully study me over from head to toe and places a hand over her chest. “My heart stopped when I opened the door and saw you standing there in your uniform. Wow…just wow.” Her voice trails off and she stands there staring at me. “I can’t tear my eyes off you.”
“Is the uniform okay to wear tonight?” I ask. “I didn’t have a suit that fit.”
There’s no point in telling her about the wasted hour spent at Flint’s cabin putting on a fashion show for Sam.
“Believe me, the uniform is more than okay. It’s perfect.” She leans up to kiss me lightly on the lips. “I’m so happy you’re finally here. I can’t wait to show you
my place. I hope you like it. If you do, I was thinking we could swap out weekends. You know, one weekend in the country with you, and the next weekend here in the city with me. That way we would have the best of both worlds.”
I glance around the beautifully decorated, spacious apartment. Everything is exactly as I imagined.
Which doesn’t bode well for me.
Every furnishing, from the expensive leather sofa to the modern art on the walls, has been carefully chosen and arranged. The white modern-style furniture is too fancy and clean to sit on, so I stand awkwardly just inside the front door. Maggie doesn’t seem to notice and keeps talking excitedly about all the fun things there are to do in Atlanta.
“There’s a wine-tasting next weekend at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens if you want to come back,” she says. “It would be fun, and I could introduce you to some of my friends from the TV station. They would love to meet you.”
I try to pay attention and appear interested in what she’s saying because I should be. I care about her happiness and this is Maggie’s home, where she lives and works.
Yet I have this unbearable urge to bolt out the door, hop in my truck, and burn rubber trying to drive back to the country as fast as I can.
I can’t see myself being comfortable enough to spend one night here, much less every other weekend. A car alarm blares out on the street below her window and I flinch.
“What the hell is that?” I ask.
She waves a dismissive hand at the window. “Atlanta traffic. There’s always car horns or sirens going off. You get used to it after a while.”
I don’t see how.
“So what do you think?” she asks, whirling around to show me her low-cut, slinky, black cocktail dress and three-inch-high ‘fuck-me’ shoes.
“I think you’re beautiful,” I say, already forgetting about the apartment and how uncomfortable I am.
Like every other time I’m with Maggie, my mind always immediately goes straight to sex. All she needs to do is look at me or lean against my arm and I go rock hard. I wonder sometimes if she has any idea of the intense effect she has on me.
Probably not.
She links her hands around the back of my neck. “Aren’t you the guy who doesn’t use the word beautiful?” she teases me. “I distinctly remember you saying the word is overused.”
“That’s why I reserve the right to use it only for you,” I say. My hands reach down to touch her silky hair and let the tendrils drift through my fingers. “Because you are. Unbelievably so. And sexy. Like now, with your tight little dress just begging me to do unspeakable things to you.”
I slide my hands down to cup her ass through the soft fabric and pull her against me. She laughs and presses her abdomen closer against my hard-on through my pants.
“What kind of bad things are we talking about?” she asks, her voice dropping lower. “Tell me.”
40
Maggie
I wasn’t sure how Toby was planning to dress for the dinner. I didn’t ask him because I didn’t want him to think it was something I was concerned about.
No matter what I expected, it wasn’t for him to be so devastatingly handsome.
Dressed in a blue Marine uniform with six gold buttons going down the front, dark pants, and a white cap, he could sweep any woman off her feet with just one look. The deep pride he takes in his uniform and everything it represents is evident from the stiffly starched collar to the freshly-polished shoes. This is another side of Toby that I haven’t seen, and I find it immensely appealing.
Who wouldn’t?
A gorgeous, blue-eyed, drop-dead hunk of a man in uniform.
Doesn’t get much better than this.
When he stepped inside my apartment, I felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. Even though we text several times a day, I forget how overwhelming my attraction to his physical presence can be.
Now he’s threatening to talk dirty to me, and I’m melting.
His gaze swings to me, the blue of his eyes darkening when they rest on my black dress tightly clinging to every curve. Something primal and dangerous passes between us when I feel the full laser heat of his scrutiny.
Oh yes…this is going to be worth the wait.
“Talk to me, Marine,” I say in my sexiest voice, leaning closer into him. “Tell me all the dirty, bad things you want to do to me, because you’re the most dashing, handsome man I’ve seen today.”
Not just today.
Any day.
Something about the sight of Toby grabs my insides and won’t let go. Never more so than at this moment.
I’ve felt physical attraction to men before. It was nothing compared to the intense longing I feel every time he walks into the room. From a burning need to trace the intricate tattoos on his arms or to run my fingers through his dark hair that curls at the nape of his neck, I can never get my fill of him.
He slides a hand slowly up my bare leg. His fingers hover at the edge of my black silk panties.
“How much time do we have before we need to leave for the dinner?” he asks huskily.
I glance at the wall clock. The dinner starts in less than an hour.
“Fifteen minutes,” I say.
Toby slips a finger down inside the front of my panties and strokes my clit in a circular motion, just the way he knows I love it. I’m already soaking wet. He goes lower and slides a finger up into me, all the way to the knuckle. I gasp at the penetration and lean into him.
Oh…that’s deep.
I suddenly become aware of how harsh and uneven his breathing has become as he caresses me. His thick erection presses against my hip. He slides two fingers in this time…once...twice. I clutch at his arm.
“Fuck…Maggie,” he groans. “Why did I do that? Now I’m going to be stuck sitting there at dinner all night with blue balls while trying not to think about how dripping wet your pussy is right beside me. I don’t suppose it’s appropriate to finger-fuck you under the table at the Mayor’s dinner?”
“Not at all appropriate,” I whisper. “Tell me how you would do it. If you could.”
Toby knows I love it when he talks dirty to me in his sexy Southern accent. I could listen to him talk non-stop for days about anything and never get tired of hearing it.
He presses his lips against my hair. “I would reach underneath the tablecloth and slide my hand up your thigh,” he murmurs. “At first you would look at me wide-eyed and shake your head ‘no.’ Then you’d casually take a sip of wine and willingly spread your legs just a little where no one else could see. I’d slip my fingers inside the rim of your panties. Or if you’re a bad girl, you won’t be wearing any.”
“No panties then,” I say.
“I would finger-fuck you slow at first, like this, so no one would notice.”
He slides his fingers in all the way up to his palm. I’m holding my breath now.
“Then I’d lean over and whisper into your ear how tight and wet your pussy feels. And how much I wish I could bend you over the linen tablecloth and sink my cock deep into you from behind.”
He pumps his fingers in and out of me harder now, each time more forceful than the last. I close my eyes and buck onto his hand, unable to constrain the low sounds coming from my mouth.
“You wouldn’t dare do that at the table in front of everyone,” I say, dying to hear more.
He chuckles. “You’re right. So we politely excuse ourselves from the table and rush to the nearest restroom. After locking the door, I drag you over to the sink, twist you around, and slide up your sexy black dress up around your waist. You’re watching me in the mirror now, with your face flushed and your lips begging to be kissed. I want you so fucking bad it hurts. We don’t care if we’re in a bathroom or who might hear us. We can’t wait another minute to be together.”
He nips my ear with his teeth and groans in anguish. “Dammit, Maggie! I can’t keep talking about this. It’s fucking killing me.”
“Don’t stop,” I beg. �
��Please.”
I press my hand against his cock through his pants for encouragement, feeling it harden and lengthen even more under my touch.
He takes a deep shuddering breath and continues. “I stop for a moment and gaze at you in the mirror just so I can remember you for my wildest dreams. Your dress is low-cut and your tits are falling out. Then I reach down and spread your luscious ass cheeks with my big hands and place the tip of my cock at your pussy. You’re already soaking wet and ready for me.”
“Oh yes,” I whisper.
“Our eyes meet in the mirror as I slide my hard cock all the way into you in one slow push. As deep as I can go, all the way to my balls. You feel so fucking amazing. I wrap your long hair around my hand, holding your head back tight, forcing you to watch us in the mirror as I begin slamming into you from behind. You moan so loud I know the dinner guests can hear you through the bathroom door, but we don’t stop. We can’t stop. Not now. Because nothing else matters.”
Suddenly he slips his fingers out of me and I cry out.
“Fuck, Maggie!” he says. “A man can only take so much.” He rubs his hand down his face in frustration. “And here I am fully dressed in my uniform. Don’t worry, this will only take a second.”
Quickly he strips all the way out of his uniform, carefully folding and hanging each piece on a nearby chair so as not to cause wrinkles. The last thing he removes is his white cap. I would’ve liked for him to keep it on, but I assume that would be wildly inappropriate. Watching him undress only increases my anticipation. I’m almost drooling at the sight of his ripped, muscular body and tattoos.
When every last stitch of clothing has been removed, he strides back toward me like a panther on the prowl. He grabs my shoulders, whirls me around, and bends me over the back of my white sofa. “I hope you want it hard and fast, darling, because that’s the way it’s happening this time,” he warns. “I’m going to explode if I can’t get inside your hot pussy now. All this talking is driving me insane.”
