by Lilly Atlas
She stared at him, struck dumb by his impassioned plea for his brother.
“He’ll want you. Here, take this.” He placed a silver key in her hand. “It’s a spare to my room on the second floor. Jester knows which one. I keep it locked during parties. Never know who’ll show up here looking to make trouble for us.”
Wasn’t that the truth.
“Take your time, no one will bother you in there and Jester can get cleaned up. And Emily? Don’t listen to what Colt told you. You have Jester’s loyalty. He’s not screwing around on you.”
Guilt swamped her. She didn’t deserve his loyalty. She didn’t deserve his trust.
She glanced down at the key, and thanked Striker before making her way toward the clubhouse. The metal in her hand was more than a room key. It was a possible key to information for Snake. Her heart beat an uneasy rhythm, and she wondered exactly what she’d encounter when she got in there, both with Jester and in Striker’s room.
Jester sat at the bar taking a swig directly from a bottle of amber liquid. Emily wasn’t very well versed in liquors and couldn’t begin to guess what it was. He turned when the door slammed behind her and their eyes met. Emily’s gait faltered at the strength of the emotion shining out toward her.
There was some sorrow in his gaze, but mostly desire, and a vulnerability so unlike him. Any other time that stare would have warmed her body and her heart, but today her attention was divided. Part of her wanted to rush to Jester, to comfort him and ease burdens, but the key was burning straight into her palm.
Walking straight to him, she gently removed the bottle from his bloodied hand and rested it on the bar. With a light tug on his arm she coaxed him off the barstool and directed him up the stairs. “Striker gave me his key.”
With a nod Jester walked down the hallway and stopped in front of a closed door. Emily slid the key in the lock, twisted the knob, and pushed the door open. “Go lie down on the bed, and I’ll grab something to clean up your hand.” She nudged him toward the bed.
“Emily,” he started.
With a shake of her head she cut off what would most likely have been him telling her he was fine.
As she walked toward the bathroom, her gaze darted around, taking in as much of the room as she could without being obvious in her search. There wasn’t much to see. Aside from the bed and a small dresser, the room was basically empty. Striker probably didn’t spend much time here, now that he had Lila.
In the Spartan bathroom, she fished around until she found a washcloth, and wet it with warm water from the sink.
When she returned to the room she found Jester lying close to the edge of the queen sized bed, one booted foot resting on the ground while the other was stretched out on top of the blankets. A pile of pillows propped his head up, and his astute eyes followed her every movement.
He showed no signs of falling asleep as part of her hoped he would. Now her chances of searching the dresser and nightstand were next to zilch. Emily sighed. This day was wrought with repeated failed attempts and frustration.
Chapter Seventeen
Emily went to the bed and sat on the edge, her side pressed into the masculine slope of Jester’s body where his hip met his flank. She picked up his hand, which was slightly swollen with three split knuckles. The blood was already drying, but the sight of it bothered her. Careful not to restart the bleeding, she dabbed the area with the wet washcloth. Neither spoke, the air between them thick with unvoiced emotion and uncertainty.
When she was satisfied the cuts were clean, Emily tossed the washcloth on the floor and made a mental note to wash it for Striker. With a delicate hold, she raised Jester’s injured hand to her lips and placed a soft kiss on each damaged knuckle.
“Emily.” He pierced her with an unsmiling stare. “Colt’s full of shit. I’m not fucking around on you. Jesus, you’re all I can think about, your eyes, your voice, your tits, and the way your pussy feels gripping my cock. And it’s more than just physical. It’s everything you are. I haven’t so much as thought of another woman. You’ve hijacked all the space in my head. To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what to do about it.”
Emily’s eyes filled with tears. She wished she was deserving of his affection. “Shh, Jester you don’t have to explain anything to me. I didn’t believe him.”
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
How did he know? “You didn’t,” she lied.
His face was a mask of disbelief. “You’re a shitty liar, babe.”
If he only knew.
“Okay, you scared me.”
“I don’t go looking for fights. If I’d wanted to, I could have left him in a bad way. He’s probably already up and cursing my name.”
She gave him a small smile. It was the same speech both Acer and Striker had given her, and they were right. Jester was twice the size of Colt. The fight could have been a massacre, but he’d controlled himself.
He wasn’t like Snake in any way. Snake preyed on the weak and innocent. He manipulated people and situations to serve him no matter the consequences.
“And, Christ, honey, please tell me you don’t think I’d ever lay a hand on you for anything other than pleasure. Is that what happened to you? Did some asshole hurt you? Is that really why you moved here, and why you don’t talk much about your life?”
The lie would have been easy to perpetuate, but it died in her throat. Instead, Emily slid off the bed, and knelt on the floor next to Jester. She unlaced his boot, tugged it off and dropped it to the ground with a heavy thud. She rose on her knees, and removed the boot from the leg resting on the bed as well.
“Emily…” he cautioned.
She shook her head. “No, no one has ever hit me.” She couldn’t talk about this now. Couldn’t talk about why the violence of the afternoon scared her. The truth was too likely to slip out. She needed to get his mind on something else.
From her spot on the floor, she shifted her attention to his pants. Her eyes met his, darkened with arousal, and she gave him what she hoped was a seductive smile as she slowly lowered his zipper.
With a few awkward and fumbling tugs Emily had his jeans and boxer briefs down. She willed her hands to stop shaking. Jester was used to sexually confident women who were probably masters in the art of blowjobs. She’d done it twice before, with another man, but it had been quite some time ago.
When his pants were out of the way she climbed on the bed, knelt next to him, and drank in the sight of him. His legs were long and powerfully built, with toned muscles encased in tattooed skin. From a thatch of dark hair between his thighs, his shaft rose, thick and swollen, to rest against his belly, and Emily licked her lips in anticipation of tasting him.
“Emily.”
Jester’s voice was dark, strained, and she immediately froze, lifting her gaze to meet his. Had she done something wrong already?
“I’m not a good man Emily. I’ve done shit that I will never tell you about because you shouldn’t even know such things exist in life. There will be more in the future. It’s just who I am. But I’m not a bully and I’ll never hurt you. This is your one chance to walk away, because if you stay, you are mine. Fucking mine. And I will tear apart any man who touches or threatens what’s mine.”
Her eyes widened. This wasn’t their deal. They’d agreed to enjoy it until it fizzled out, and now he was changing the rules. Here she was using sex to distract him from probing too deep into her life, and hoping for a chance to search Striker’s room after he passed out. Whatever happened, whatever heartbreak she would endure as a result of her deceptions, she fully deserved.
Jester was ignorant to the fact that Emily had recently been introduced to the uglier side of life. She wasn’t his, couldn’t be. The desire to be his woman was so strong it was a living presence within her, but for one more week, she belonged to Snake. Maybe not her body, her body she could give to Jester, but her actions and motivations, they were owned by Snake.
The lines between right and wrong, good and ev
il were becoming so blurred she feared it would never be clear again. The two things she now wanted most in this world were mutually exclusive, and yet here she was trying to make the impossible happen. Trying to make a relationship work with Jester and save her brother. When this was over, and she was left with the shattered pieces of her soul, would she find comfort in the recollection of Jester’s words? Or would they just make the guilt and regret burn brighter?
Emily lowered her head, and licked along the length of him from root to tip, taking her time before she opened her mouth wide and drew him in. As with all her actions in the past weeks, she was torn. Split in two between the desire to show Jester just how much he meant to her, and need to tire him out and search Striker’s room.
There was a special place in hell waiting just for her.
Jester hissed out a breath as the searing heat of Emily’s mouth surrounded his cock. Her cheeks hollowed with a tentative suction and she drew her lips along the hard shaft, swirling her tongue around the sensitive head when she reached the tip.
He felt a bit shaken and vulnerable after his confession to Emily. Fuck their original deal. He wasn’t tiring of her; rather the intensity of the desire to be with her grew strong each day. She wanted him just as much, he could see it in her eyes, but she hadn’t said anything. Emily kept her emotions close and he still had the impression there was something in her life that troubled her, something she wasn’t yet willing to share.
He lost thought of everything besides the heat of Emily’s mouth as she grew bolder and slid her lips back down his shaft, sucking him deep this time, and with more vigor. Jester had to fist his hands in the comforter to keep from plunging his fingers into her hair and taking control of the pace. It was obvious she didn’t have much experience giving head, and he didn’t want to overwhelm her with his demands.
Jester had received countless blowjobs by innumerable women, most of whom were practiced experts on the subject. Typically, he rested his head back, threw an arm across his eyes and let the woman go to town. This was an entirely different experience involving all of his senses. His eyes were riveted to Emily’s head, bobbing up and down in his lap. Every few seconds she would lift her lashes, and he’d catch a glimpse of her beautiful eyes, smoky with desire.
She made tiny sounds; light little moans that alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t the only one affected by this act. And her smell…Christ, he swore he could smell her arousal permeating the air. He groaned low and long, and her mouth tightened as she worked him up and down, her inhibitions fleeing at his obvious enjoyment of her efforts.
Emily didn’t need proficiency; in fact, he was thrilled that she hadn’t been spending her time with men buried to their balls in her mouth like he was now. The notion of her with another man brought out his murderous side.
She was a natural. The wet heat of her mouth, her generous nature, and her enthusiasm gave her an advantage over the most skilled of lovers.
When she reached out and cupped his balls, giving them a soft caress, he could no longer hold still. His hips surged up and drove him deeper into the cavern of her mouth. For a moment she hesitated, and he worried he’d gone too far, that she’d gag and pull back, but she readjusted and went right back to her task.
She sucked him with passion now, completely engrossed in the act, using her tongue, lips and teeth to take his breath away.
“Emily,” he warned on a gasp. “I’m not going to last much longer.” The next move was up to her. He wanted nothing more than to watch her swallow all of him down, but since this was new to her he wasn’t sure if she’d be into it.
For a moment she lifted her head, replacing her mouth with the sure, steady stroke of her hand. “I absolutely love coming in your mouth. I’m hoping that means you’ll feel the same.” She removed her hand, opened her swollen lips wide, and took him back in.
The memory of her losing control against his mouth did him in, and within seconds he was coming, harder than he had in a long time. His hips jerked, and Emily grabbed onto them to stabilize herself as he bucked and grunted beneath her.
She kept her mouth still around him until the shaking subsided. He gasped, overly sensitive, as she let him slip from between her lips. Jester felt drained, extremely sated, and just plain happy.
Still fully dressed, Emily crawled up his body and placed gentle kisses along the way on his thighs, his quivering abdomen, and his pecs.
When she completed her journey, she wrapped her arms around his sides and laid her head on his chest, draped over him like a warm, sexy blanket. Jester reached down, grasped the backs of her thighs and drew them up so her arms and legs were on either side of him, cradling his body.
He left his hands wrapped around her legs, and stroked the tender skin of her inner thighs. “That was indescribable, Em, and if you give me three minutes I’ll be more than happy to return the favor.”
She shook her head and squeezed him tight with her slight arms. “Just hold me like this for a while, if you don’t mind.”
He slid his hands up and cupped her ass, holding her flush against his body. A hint of sadness whispered in her voice. Something wasn’t completely right with her, and he hoped she would soon be willing to confide in him.
Loud pounding on the door killed any chance for post-orgasm bliss.
Striker’s voice poured into the room. “You two have thirty seconds to get your clothes on and then I’m coming in. No way are you guys going at it all day while the rest of us are stuck at the barbecue. Twenty-four seconds now.”
Emily scrambled off Jester with a mortified look on her face. She smoothed the front of her rumpled clothes and tried to restore order to her hair. Her lips were slightly swollen from sucking him off, which gave her a sultry look.
Jester swung his leg over the edge of the bed and came to a stand, pulling his pants back up. He didn’t really give two shits if Striker busted in on him.
“Fifteen seconds, asshole. And I better not see your hairy ass when I get in there.”
“Striker!” Lila exclaimed. “Jester does not have a hairy ass.”
“And how the hell would you know?” Striker snarled, crystal clear, through the closed door.
“Well, I guess I don’t know for sure, but come on.”
“Ten seconds and counting.”
Emily’s eyes widened. “I can fully attest to the fact that Jester’s ass is a perfect specimen, not at all hairy,” she called, loud enough to be heard in the hallway.
Deciding to have a little fun of his own, Jester released his hold on his pants, and let them drop back down to the ground. He turned his back to the door, bare ass on full display, and struck a pose, flexing his extraordinary muscles just at the door flew open.
Lila released a low whistle.
Striker wasn’t quite as impressed. “Oh, hell no!” He shoved Lila back into the hallway. “Close your eyes, woman. You take one more look at his fuckin’ ass, and I’ll redden yours so bad you won’t sit for a week.”
“Hmm it might be worth it. Did you see him? That is one fine piece of man meat.” The couple disappeared down the hallway. The sound of Striker’s hand landing on Lila’s bottom was followed by a high-pitched shriek.
Emily had a small smile on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and it wasn’t the reaction Jester would have expected from her.
Feeling quite pleased with the outcome of that exchange, Jester tugged his jeans back up. He wrapped an arm around Emily’s shoulders, bringing her close to him as they exited the room.
He couldn’t keep the satisfied smirk from erupting on his face. “Well, a beat down, a blowjob, and I got one over on Striker. I think it’s safe to say I am today’s grand prize winner.”
Once again, she didn’t laugh and he frowned down at her. At some point he’d need to have it out with her. If she was going to be with him—
Shit.
Maybe that was it. Maybe she didn’t want him like he wanted her.
Chapter Eighteen
On Wednesday evening, Jester stepped outside Emily’s apartment, and jogged down the steps to his parked bike. It wasn’t dusk yet, but the sun had dipped in the cloudless sky, taking with it the sizzling temperature that often made summers in the desert intolerable.
As he approached the bike, Jester glanced at his phone. Six forty-five. Church was at eight tonight, the last one before the Grimm’s meet up with the cartel on Friday. The club hoped to finalize the details of the takedown, and if all went well, they’d have a solid plan to rid the Grimm Brothers of hundreds of thousands of dollars while keeping the drugs out of Crystal Rock, and keeping the club off the radar of the cops.
The No Prisoners had a very comfortable relationship with the local boys in blue. A strategic few of them were paid to look the other way. But border crossing drug shipments worth upward of a million dollars tended to attract the attention of the Feds, and that was the last thing the club wanted.
Jester’s ears twitched as the rumble of motorcycle pipes cut through the quiet of the evening. Four bikes, if he was correct. Outside the club, there weren’t any bikers in town who traveled in groups. The riders were probably out of towners passing through, unless the club had sent some guys out to meet him at Emily’s. His guys would only come if there were some kind of trouble.
The roar grew louder. Emily stepped out of her apartment and started down the steps. The skirt of her teal summer dress—with thin straps he wanted to rip right off her—flowed around her thighs. She looked edible, like a cool treat, the perfect ending for a hot summer day, and he fully planned to indulge later.
The noise swelled to a thunderous level, whipping Jester’s attention away from Emily and back toward the street. Four Harleys peeled into the lot leaving a cloud of dust and sand in their wake.
