She glanced around the parking lot - it was fairly empty. She supposed people wouldn’t be inside in the middle of the day. This looked more like a stopover place for truckers and people on road trips. She wondered idly if they charged hourly - if it was that kind of motel - when her eyes landed on the newspaper dispensers next to the front door. “Glenn Moore Killed Two Months Into Sentence” was bolded right across the top of the national paper. Making headlines again, Dad. Fact was, he’d died five days ago. They’d managed to keep it under cover for longer than she’d thought they would.
Movement through the front doors caught her attention but she couldn’t seem to peel her eyes away. Seeing it in print out here in the middle of nowhere was like being doused in ice water. Nowhere I run will be far enough. Will this follow me forever?
Gunner followed her gaze to the dispenser. “You said something about Glenn Moore before?” he asked, reading the headline.
She nodded. “He was my father.” That led to a series of revelations that would have been comical if she was witnessing it in anyone else, regarding anyone else. He cursed with each one, his tone changing depending on what he’d just realized. “Oh, shit.” Her father had just died and it was sad. “Oh. Shit.” He’d died in prison. “Oh, shit!” He was the big Wall Street trader who’d been starring in headlines starting half a year ago and straight through his high-profile trial. The media circus ended with his conviction - guilty of stealing large sums of money from his clients. It looked like the frenzy was revived with his death - they’d be talking about it on all the networks and in the papers for weeks.
“So this is why someone is after you?” he asked.
She nodded. “Not entirely sure. I think it’s someone who wants their money back and they think I’ve got some of it.”
“And do you?”
She didn’t know how to answer that one. “Yes” meant “I have money and therefore perhaps some bargaining power here with you.” “No” meant “Help me I’m poor I have nothing.” Truth was, she didn’t know. She was sure her father left her an inheritance but it would be so wrapped up with his crimes she might never see it. Especially if it was from stolen funds. Would I still want it if it was? She shook her head and settled for a sort-of lie. “I do have some… funds. I just don’t have access to them right now.”
He just nodded. “Well. Sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks.”
He leaned back against the dispenser and blocked the headline from the view. “So you’re a city girl,” he said with a smirk.
That was the last thing she expected him to zone in on. “Yeah. Wall Street, all that.” She shook her head. “I was in college up north, though. Just a little place in New Hampshire, nothing fancy. I had a year left…”
“College fund ran out?”
“Seized.” Why was she telling him any of this? She fished inside her purse. “How much was the room?” she asked, praying the number would be reasonably low.
“Don’t worry about it.”
She paused, wrist deep in tissues and receipts. “I can pay my way, Gunner. I don’t want to be in debt to you.” She supposed she already was, considering he’d spared her life. “Not further in debt, at least.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t take it so personally. This was a club problem so it’s coming out of club funds.”
She bit her tongue against continuing to argue. She really needed to save what little money she had however she could. He didn’t need to look so satisfied when she finally nodded, though.
He helped her down from the bike; they hadn’t ridden for very long but her legs were shaky. When she was steady on her feet, though, he didn’t release her - he gripped her shoulders tighter and leaned in close. “Do not let anyone but me inside the room, got it?” Her breath caught as he spoke. “My club will kill you if they find out that I let you live. Understand? I’m in enough trouble with them right now, I’m really sticking my neck out, here.”
“I appreciate it,” she breathed. Understatement of the year. In that moment when she’d realized how badly she wanted to live, she would have been willing to do absolutely anything.
“Stay put. I’ll be back in twenty.” He finally released her and pressed the keycard into her hands. “Room 109.” He still hovered too close and she struggled to respond; she was too captivated by his eyes, his lips, his entire presence. Warning bells rang in her head, not good, not good. He leaned in a fraction closer and she wondered for a moment if he was going to try to kiss her. She didn’t know if she’d be able to resist if he did; but she didn’t flinch. At least she had that.
A knowing smirk spread across his face as he backed off. She slowly released the breath she’d been holding. “Go on,” he said, his lips twitching with amusement. She followed the room signs and tried not to rush, tried to remain as unaffected as she could. It was all a facade, though; inside, she buzzed all over. He was wrong, all wrong, not her type at all - what the hell had come over her?
Gunner chuckled to himself as he sped out of the motel parking lot. The girl appeared to be made of stone, but she was flesh and blood all right. When she finally reacted, when her eyes went wide and she held her breath, he felt like he’d won a prize. Bet I could melt all that ice, easy.
But oh man, was she a problem, and trailing worse troubles with her. He had to get her out of town as quickly as possible. Part of him wanted to lie and tell her he’d searched for her sister and found nothing. But he’d said he would do it, so he’d do it - he’d make the one phone call, at least. Then he would chase her out with a torch and a pitchfork if he had to. He’d be in deep shit if anyone found out that he’d let her live, and even deeper if her own pursuer got involved.
Doesn’t mean I can’t fuck her in the meantime, though. He knew he could if he played his cards right - he saw it on her face when the stony expression wavered, when he’d leaned in close. Maybe that’ll get her out of my head, too. He needed to exorcise her from his mind, and fast - it was becoming a distraction. There was no surer way to rid himself of his feelings for a girl than to expel them through his dick. If that made him a jerk, so be it.
He left Yards a quick message from the convenience store, his voicemail saying, “Problem solved, just dealing with a little cleanup. Tell Jupiter.” Then he rushed through the aisles, grabbing snacks, hair dye, and scissors. He didn’t know why his stomach turned a little at the thought of dying and hacking off those honey-colored locks. Sure, he liked her hair, liked how soft it felt between his fingers when he’d touched it, but why should he care what happened to it? He took his annoyance out on the cashier, snarling for no reason while he bagged the items and bursting outside with a loud clatter when he knocked the door back with his shoulder. Get it together.
Back at the motel, he knocked quietly, not wanting to startle her and not sure why he gave a shit. He could see her peek through the curtains before opening the door. “I saw you look,” he growled as he pushed past and kicked it shut behind him. “You need to be more subtle. That glass isn’t bulletproof.” The room was as he’d said - small but clean, with two beds, a desk and a dresser, and not much else. He hated the name of the motel - there wasn’t a single goddamn blue thing anywhere that he could see. He shoved the bag at her. “Go on.”
She peered inside. “Black?”
“It’s the opposite of blond, lady, and you’re kinda sorta blond, right?”
“Well…”
“Who cares. Get busy.” She gave him a side-eyed glance before pulling over a garbage can and sitting on the edge of the mattress.
“I appreciate your help but you don’t need to babysit while I do this.” She pulled out the scissors and considered a lock of hair. Then paused and sighed.
He grunted. “Give them to me.” She was right, he didn’t need to babysit, there were plenty of other things that he ought to be doing. Clean-up things. Club things. Managerial things, and not to mention getting some damn sleep. But he wasn’t going to do any of that. He was going to gi
ve in to his stupid impulses like usual - and right now they dictated that he help her cut her hair.
He climbed up on the bed and knelt behind her. She passed him the scissors and mumbled “Thanks,” then said, “Just try for a straight line, I suppose.”
“I’ve cut hair before,” he grumbled, gathering the back portion in his hands and pulling it taut. He paused there - the sight made his blood run hotter and his dick stir in his pants. He wanted to tug a little harder, bend her head back and attack her mouth with his. Soon. This is gonna happen. Maybe one of the strippers or the club girls would go for it easily and immediately, but he doubted Senna was the type. He needed to be patient with this sort of girl. He needed to return to the subject at hand. “Usually shorter than this, though. If you wanted a buzz cut I could take care of you easy.”
“Oh.” She wrung her hands as he snipped at the hair, going for a straight line as she’d said but with little success.It was sad to see such soft and pretty hair go, dumb as the thought made him feel. “Buzz cuts. Does that mean you’re in the military?”
“Was.” He dropped the wad of hair in the trash can and started on the right side.
“What were you?” she asked.
His hand strayed towards his jeans pocket, where his dogtags resided. He didn’t want to talk about that. If there was anything in the world that would close him up, shut him down, it was that subject. And he didn’t want to ruin the mood right now, either. He fought down the tight feeling in his gut and cut away another portion of her hair and didn’t reply.
“If you don’t want to talk about it-”
“I don’t.”
“I’m sorry.” He threw away another lock then started on the left in silence.
He stood and circled her once he was through. The cut was choppy but it could have been worse. More concerning was the fact that she’d just had half her hair hacked off by a near-stranger and still wore the same calm expression. He needed to change that. “Pretty drastic,” he said, “Once you dye it you’ll look like a completely different person.” He smirked. “Maybe you’ll act different and loosen the hell up.”
That got her - her eyes flashed with anger. “I nearly died today and you want me to loosen up?”
He took a step closer, pressing his knees into hers. “I want you to do lots of things.”
She jumped up from the bed, box of hair dye in hand, and darted for the bathroom. “I cannot believe you’re flirting right now. Is that what you do with all the ladies? Threaten to shoot them before you hit on them?”
She slammed the bathroom door behind her. Not the exact reaction he was going for, but it was a reaction. And fair enough, he supposed it had been a stressful day so far, to say the least.
“I’d tell you what I do with the other ladies but it might make you blush.”
“I’ll bet.” Her snort echoed in the bathroom. “I can just imagine. I’ll bet they just fall all over you.” Maybe she’ll be a little more receptive now that she doesn’t have to look at me.
He stood against the door as he spoke. “You’re not wrong. My reputation precedes me, usually. They know what I can do to them.”
She snorted. “Like what?”
He mentally cheered. There was the opening he was waiting for. “For starters I can get you all sorts of turned on just by talking to you.” He knew the power of his voice, the effect it could have on women.
And if she wasn’t receptive, it was fun as hell just to mess with her anyway.
“That’s just absurd,” she called through the door. He could hear her opening the box of hair dye - he knew he had a little time to tease her, so he sat with his back against the door.
“It’s true,” he said, “I have to be pretty turned on myself to really make it work, so I’ll just think about you getting undressed in there.” Silence was the only response he got to that, so he pressed on. “Pulling those shorts off. Dropping your underwear down around your ankles. I’ll bet your ass is just as incredible naked as it is in those little cutoffs. Jesus, I’m getting so hard just imagining it.” He was, too - that was no lie. He swelled inside his jeans, the outline of his cock quickly becoming visible. “I wish you could see it,” he growled.
“Keep it in your pants, buddy,” she called. He grinned to himself - she wasn’t telling him to shut up. He’d happily take that to mean that she liked what she was hearing.
“I wouldn’t kiss you,” he said, “You’d have to work for that. You’d have to suck on my fingers first. Caress them with your tongue inside your hot little mouth. Show me what you would do if I let you put your lips around my cock.” He groaned at the thought. “You’d have to earn that, too.”
He heard her squeezing a bottle inside the bathroom - something to do with the dying process - again not silencing him. But just how closely was she listening? “Know what I’d do then?” he asked.
The bottle squeezing paused. “What?” She was feigning disinterest and not succeeding. He was turning her on - the thought made his cock throb in his pants.
“With my fingers nice and wet I’d just go ahead and slide them down between your legs.” He deliberately deepened his breathing - or maybe not so deliberately. He was letting his imagination get away from him more than he’d intended. “I’d tease your pussy just with my fingertips. Just lightly graze your little pink lips. Just slowly caress you until you’re hot. And wet. And panting. Until you’re ready to beg.” He bit back another groan and waited for a response. One of his hands strayed to his cock, rubbing its hard length through the layer of denim. He couldn’t resist; the thought of touching her was driving him crazy. I really need to get this chick out of my system.
“Well?” she asked.
“Well what?” he grunted. She must have been waiting for the dye to set - there was no noise escaping the bathroom now, though if he pressed his ear to the door he thought he could just about hear her breathing.
“Is your little bedtime story over?”
“No,” he growled. He would have been annoyed if she didn’t sound breathless. Hell, he was annoyed, regardless. Sarcasm wasn’t something he appreciated. “I’d thrust two fingers deep inside that hot fucking cunt.” He gripped himself as tight as he could through his jeans. “I’d finger fuck you hard and fast, just like you need. I’d drive all those bitchy words right out of you. The only thing I’d want to hear is you calling my name.”
“Gunner.”
His chest rumbled with a deep groan at the way she said it - he was definitely having an effect on her now. “That’s right. You touching yourself?”
“I’m wearing gloves.”
Gloves? Just what sort of potion is she dealing with in there? The thought was fleeting - there were more pressing matters, such as his cock pressing to be free of his pants. Not yet. “That’s fine. Nothing you can do to yourself would feel half as good as what I can do to you.” He leaned his head against the door. There was something incredibly hot about talking to her through the barrier like this; about imagining her squirming in the next room, unable to get off or even touch herself while he teased her into a writhing mess with his words. “The fingering is free. If you want my mouth on you, well, you have to earn that, too.”
“This sounds like a lot of work.”
Definitely breathless. Fuck. “It’s worth it, baby, trust me.”
The knobs creaked as she turned on the shower. He stood and spoke directly against the door. “You better be able to hear me in there.”
Her voice echoed against the tiles as she called back, “I hear you.”
“Do you have any idea what I’d do to you if I was in that shower with you right now?” His hand tensed against the door, his nails pressing hard against the white paint. He held his other hand against his cock, pressing his pelvis against it for all the good it did confined inside a hellish prison of denim. “I’d soap up those tits of your with my bare hands. Clean off your nipples with my mouth. I’ll bet they’re tiny. And pink. And really fucking hard right now. Am I righ
t?”
“Jesus, Gunner-”
He banged the door with his fist. “Answer the question.”
“Yes.”
He pressed his ear to the door. “Pinch them for me.” He could just make out her soft gasp. It was all he could do not to barge through that door like a bulldozer and take her hard and fast right in the motel tub. He wouldn’t even make it all the way out of his pants, he knew. He needed to be inside her five minutes ago. But that’s not the game we’re playing here. He wanted to fuck her, sure, but somehow even more than that he wanted to crack her stony exterior, wanted to make her lose control. That would take a lot more effort, he knew. But fuck it. I gave us two days and I can buy us more time.
The knobs squeaked again as she turned the water off. “Are you drying yourself?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Don’t get dressed.”
“I’m putting my clothes on, Gunner.” He could hear the hesitation in her voice. “This was fun, but-”
He slammed his fist against the door again. “If you don’t want me to touch you then you’d better count to sixty before you open this door. I’m hard enough to bust in there using just my dick.” He heard her release a shaky sigh. “What’s wrong? You don’t trust me?” It made his blood boil instantly. He was a man of his word and it pissed him right off when people assumed that he wasn’t; besides, he’d spared her life when he should have shot her - that had to count pretty damn heavily. And he was helping her now. What was her problem?
She defused him quickly, though. “I trust you,” she said, “I just don’t know you all that well.”
This was too much talk. He wanted her hot and bothered, not anxious and unsure. He wanted to replace that stoic expression she always wore with one of wild ecstasy. As much as his cock vied for his attention, it was no longer his priority - he wanted to get her off more than anything. “Get on out here,” he said, voice low and smooth, “I know you’re hot for me. I’ll make you come without taking any of your clothes off.”
Devil's Fall: Dust Bowl Devils MC Page 4
