by Anne Marsh
Asking him to come over.
For sex.
I pour another glass of champagne (number five for those of you keeping track at home). Of course, he could simply be uninterested. We’ve had sex, but maybe he’s the kind of man who doesn’t vacation at the same property twice, no matter how fabulous the first experience. Just because I’m up for round two doesn’t mean that he is.
12:07.
Sometimes you need to change your plans.
I fire up my laptop and get ready to go with Plan B: retail therapy. I swing by Amazon, from whence all good things come, and fill up my cart with a brand-new, designer wardrobe for a fantasy trip to the Maldives that will stifle the lingering humiliation caused by Vik’s silence. Tomorrow, I’ll empty the cart and replace its contents with the far more practical cat food and toilet paper deliveries that I actually need, but for tonight...I totally need a three-hundred-dollar silk sundress for my hypothetical three-thousand-dollar-a-night bungalow. For that kind of price, Amazon had better be including Chris Hemsworth or Pierce Brosnan in the box.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Vik
TONIGHT I WENT to church.
Don’t look so shocked. It’s a Hard Riders thing, a weekly MC meeting that every brother is expected to attend. Missing one meeting nets you a fine. The second time you ditch earns a personal, hands-on explanation of the attendance policy. Third time? You don’t want to go there.
We’re not big on rules, although respect is king. This means I’ve had my phone off for most of the night. We need to up our security, and doing so requires planning. Too many brothers have been shot at or taken hostage this year. Last time it happened, we got our brother back, but several of the Black Dogs MC had gone up on charges for the kidnapping, and it looked like shit might stick. Rev’s old lady was making noises about it, too, because her brother, Rocker, was one of those who took a ride downtown in the back of a cop car. Stupid fuck had run drugs and guns. He’s looking at some serious time.
The kidnapped brother didn’t come out of it the same, either. He’s making noises about reaching out to the other club now that they’ve had their come-to-Jesus moment with the law. Rest of us aren’t convinced that the Black Dogs MC have given up on drug-dealing and the cartels. He keeps hinting he has leverage with the other club now that he’s been up close and personal with them, but other Hard Riders suggested the up close and personal actually occurred with a Black Dogs hanger-on. Specifically, a hanger-on with a super-awesome, miracle pussy. That accusation led to a fight tonight and the argument still isn’t settled.
Sucked to be my brother, though, if he’s jonesing for a girl who belongs to a rival club. Some shit’s just too Romeo and Juliet for words, and I’m not the only brother to notice because Prez has taken to calling him Romeo. I threatened to tattoo his new name on his ass.
Automatically, I turn my phone on as I head out to the parking lot and discover Santa Claus has come early.
HARPER: U busy? If not, come have sex with me. Plz.
Why I’m so tied up in knots about this girl, I don’t know. Maybe it’s listening to my dad ask if I’ve met someone. Or maybe it’s because inking and fucking go hand in hand more than you’d think. Harper isn’t the first to climb into my chair and then drop her panties. She’s had a rough time with her ex, and she deserves some sweet in her life. Part of me still thinks hunting the guy down and teaching him some manners is the best idea I’ve had in a long time. The rest of me thinks we should just focus on getting Harper naked and wet. Get our priorities right.
Romeo shoulders me hard. “Are you buuuuussy, Vik? Or you gonna put out for her?”
“Fuck off.” I keep walking toward my bike. Yes, of course I’m headed over to Harper’s place. I like her, I like sex, so that’s a win-win situation right there.
Romeo’s apparently not done giving me shit, however, because he snatches my phone out of my hand. He has to be the biggest brother in the club, and he fills in whenever we need a bouncer or someone requires an ass-kicking. Still not sure how the Black Dogs got the jump on him. We wrestle briefly because I’m determined to get my phone back. I fucking end up on the bottom, too, because the brother’s built like a linebacker.
“You gonna hang here?” Romeo laughs down at me. “Or you got other plans?”
He grins at me and reaches between us to shove my phone back into my pocket.
“My dick’s got other plans for tonight,” I grumble, holding back my own smile. “Don’t get too close.”
“So you’re headed over to see the lovely Harper?” He rolls off me.
“Yeah.” I sit up, checking to make sure everything still works. Harper won’t enjoy me quite so much if I’m bruised. She likes looking at me.
Romeo slaps me on the back and reaches down a hand. “Who is she?”
I let him pull me up. “None of your business.”
Not that she should be my business, either, but we’ve already established that I don’t always do the right thing. Which has to be why I race to Harper’s place. Lucky I don’t get picked up for breaking every traffic law. She’s got a new rental in one of those swank, super-modern high-rise buildings, the kind of place where the windows don’t open because the people inside are living in an air-conditioned bubble. Not sure I see the appeal myself, but it’s not my call.
I’m standing in front of Harper’s door before I realize I probably should have called first. Or texted. Fucking sent a carrier pigeon with roses. Doesn’t matter now because I’m here.
I knock. Then fucking knock again. And again. I’m about ready to text Romeo to get his ass over here and help me bust the thing down when she finally yanks the door open.
“Vik?” She sounds part horrified, part dazed.
What the fuck?
“You texted me.”
She’s wearing a pair of silky pajamas covered with a ridiculous quantity of pink and orange butterflies. The top is one of those camisoles that button up the front and the fabric’s sheer enough that I can see the outline of her bra and the soft curve of her belly. Best wrapping paper ever for my Christmas present.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “An hour and a half ago.”
“Didn’t see an expiration date on your text, so unless you want to fuck in your hallway, let’s go inside.”
Her mouth falls open and I smell champagne and raspberries. “Excuse me?”
“I’m just keeping my word.” Christ, I’m practically a Boy Scout. “I offered to be your booty call. You called, so here I am.”
While she splutters, I lean down and kiss her. Our kiss is way too quick but gives me enough time to discover that she tastes like champagne, raspberries and Harper. Not sure what that is other than pure fucking heaven. Letting go requires more self-control than I’d like to admit, but I have plans and it’s time to put them into action. Step one? I shrug off my club vest and then whip my T-shirt over my head. I do my best work naked, and something tells me that stripping down in a public place is guaranteed to get a response out of Harper.
Three, two, one...
Sure enough, she goes ballistic.
“You can’t do that here!” She grabs whatever she can, yanking at me. Not sure what her objective is, but since it involves her hands touching me in about a hundred different, bare places, I approve. Fuck, she’s fun. I start working on my belt.
“Inside,” she hisses, hooking her fingers in my belt. Since my dick’s huge and my pants hang low, she skims my goodies and jolts backward. I’m commando beneath the denim. While I try not to spontaneously combust, she reaches around me to grab my shirt and vest from the floor outside her door. Guess I’m gonna be her not-so-little dirty secret.
In it is.
“You,” she snaps as soon as I’m safely out of the hallway and the door’s closed. “You’re impossible.”
She slaps my chest with her han
d, then stares down at her fingers lying right there over my heart. She looks surprised. Not sure if it’s my ink or my muscles that’s got her going. I’d play show-and-tell with her, but I don’t need her distracted right now. Plus, I’m semihard already, so I have better plans for our time together.
I tug her into my arms and spin her around until her back’s against the wall. “I’m fucking easy for you.”
Probably should have brought wine or flowers or at least asked for a tour of her new place, but we’ve both waited long enough. Then I’m lifting her up, spreading her legs around my hips and pinning her against the wall. Only thing between my dick and her pussy are my jeans and her shorts, and that’s not gonna keep me out of heaven.
She makes the cutest little growling sound in her throat, so I’m half expecting her to go for my balls with her right knee when she surprises me by going to work on my belt buckle. The leather slaps against my abs as she pulls it free so fast I almost get rug burn.
“Don’t mark the merchandise.” I nip her ear. “You spank my dick with that shit, and I’ll get even.”
She makes a scoffing sound, even as I wrap the belt around her wrists—loosely because I’m not that much of a jerk—and pull her hands above her head. I give her a moment to realize her predicament, and then I lean down and kiss her.
She tastes even better than I remember, and that’s before she shoves her tongue deep into my mouth. Not sure she knows I’m the one who’s in charge here, and somehow that just sets me on fire more. Fucking need this woman bad because until I’m inside her, filling up that place she’s got for me between her legs, I’m nowhere.
So I kiss her back, going harder, deeper, until we’re pushing and fighting each other with our mouths because neither of us will back down. Our mouths clash, all teeth and tongues, and it’s wet and slippery, and absolutely fucking perfect. We don’t kiss pretty but somehow we fit together. We’re burning together, and I don’t need words to know that. When I pull back, I’m panting, and so is she. We’re belting out the same chorus of the same song, and it’s all halle-fucking-lujah. I’m not alone in what I’m feeling here.
“Tell me yes,” I say. “Also? You got some fucking specific requests, you make them now.”
“Or what?” Her words come out in a pant, and her tits are heaving up and down like we’ve just run a marathon.
“Or you won’t get a turn.” I nip her unmarked ear so that now she’s got a matched set and drag my thumb over her cheek. “And you won’t like that half as much as I will.”
She glares at me but then she raises her hands over her head and links them behind my neck. The leather of my belt rubs against me, holding us close.
“You suck,” she announces.
“Duly noted.” I can’t help laughing. “But I do other things, as well.”
She shoves at my shoulder, but I don’t budge. I’m bigger than her, plus the way she’s wriggling against me, I don’t think she really wants me to go anywhere. Except down. She smells amazing, like cookies or vanilla, and her body’s all sweet curves just begging for a good licking.
She bites my lower lip, and now I’m the one growling. “What was that for?”
“You made me wait. Don’t do that again,” she orders, looking completely unrepentant.
I shouldn’t be this turned on. She bit me, for fuck’s sake. Her pretty mouth forms a perfect O that just begs for my dick. My entire body jumps to attention, ready to make that fantasy come true.
“Say it. And don’t fucking bite me again, or I’ll bite back.”
“Yes,” she growls.
I twist a hand in her hair, pulling her head back until I have an all-access pass to her mouth. “You like this?”
Her mouth firms, but I’m not giving her a chance to fuck with me. I pull just a little harder and then I kiss her hard and fast, shoving my tongue between her sassy, stubborn lips. And she gives back as good as she gets, shoving against me and driving her own tongue into my mouth. She won’t let me dominate her, and I kind of don’t want to. I like this. I like the way she more than meets me halfway and won’t take my shit.
So I kiss her while she kisses me, her nails scratching my bare back. Bet she’s drawing blood. Bet she’s inking me in her own way. I fucking love that I’ll wear her mark tomorrow on my skin, but she’s wearing too many clothes. I pop the buttons open on her top, yank down the cotton bra hiding her tits from me and get my hands on her nipples. I should probably take the time to appreciate her underwear but right now it’s just in the way of my worshipping her right.
Because I’m gonna take care of her properly. Make her see the stars, a whole fucking galaxy of sexual pleasure—or just me. Sure, I’m getting inside her, but it won’t be without benefits for her. Her breasts pop right out into my hands, the nipples tightening as I rub my thumbs over them. She arches into me, moaning another demand. Fucking love that she knows what she wants.
Me.
And I’m all hers.
Except she’s not done talking or thinking, which is something I really need to work on because if I’m doing my job right, rational thought should have been discarded along with her bra. “Lock the door?”
“That a request or a question?” I squeeze her nipples, working them between my fingers.
“Do it,” she moans.
Fuck if I’m letting her go, so I walk us over to the door, my hands cupping her ass, and flip the lock.
“We good now?”
When she nods, I set her down, her back against the door. I’m betting she won’t be happy if I tear her cute little PJs off her, so it’s time to strip. I shove her shirt down her arms, follow it up with the straps of her bra and then go to work on her shorts. I take a brief second to appreciate the hot-pink thong with a big-ass bow parked right over her clit. FYI? That’s the best kind of X-marks-the-spot.
I yank my jeans open. Finding a bed seems like a waste of time when I could be balls-deep in Harper. Dick free enough, I grab a condom out of my wallet. It’s not my classiest move but Harper likes feeling safe and I’d never do anything to hurt her. Her eyes get wider as I roll the rubber on. Taking her bareback would be something, but that’s not for tonight.
She watches me as I suit up, her eyes following my hands as they stroke that shit into place and give my dick a warm-up twist, kind of like a competitive diver throwing in a bonus reverse tuck and a couple dozen somersaults because the judges are watching and that high score beckons. I don’t need Harper to tell me that she doesn’t do this kind of wild, crazy shit. She’s as buttoned-up and cute as the pajamas lying on the floor, but buttons were made to be undone and Harper’s fucking perfect. I love that she flies apart for me—now I just need her to do it with me. And like she’s reading my mind, she leans up and takes my mouth with hers, kissing me for all she’s worth.
So much for foreplay.
I open up, lifting her up. Her hands grab my shoulders, her legs going around my waist. You see that fit? We’re absolutely perfect together, and I forget all about being her booty call or her one-time-and-never-again man. She won’t forget this when we’re over. I won’t let her. I’m starting to realize I want something more from her, even if I don’t know what that more is.
Not yet.
I raise her up and set her on my cock. Just the tip of me teasing that hot, wet doorway to heaven.
Goddamn she’s something else.
Hottest thing ever, the way she moans and tries to take me. Right now? She’d let me do whatever I want with her. She’s trusting me to make her come hard, and she’s not wrong. I push into her, finding her clit with my thumb as she takes me deep. My balls tighten and holding on becomes a fucking torture mission. I work her clit in small, hard circles, and she bucks. Desperate for more. I slam home.
Harper’s my kind of girl. She sucks in a breath—releases it on a moan that makes me wish we could go all night because godd
amn she likes this. Her hips roll as she rides me, my hands helping her to find the rhythm that’s gonna send us both over the edge. I can smell the sweet, salty scent of her and me together and I jerk my fingers away from her clit, licking them. Got to have my taste, and sure enough, she’s sweeter than all the fucking cupcakes in this world.
I grab onto her ass, working her on my dick, and she exhales long and soft. And then there’s nothing but heat licking through me as I drive into her, the whole world narrowing down to this one amazing woman. I want to make it last forever, but my dick’s about to blow. I pound her hard, and she’s slamming down to meet me, her nails biting into my shoulders.
She squeezes.
Holds me tight.
It’s fucking game over for me and I shoot into her as she comes hard, jerking and twisting. Then she throws her arms around my neck, burying her face against my throat as she loses it. Her pussy clamps down, and I feel each squeeze and pulse as she comes hard. Never felt better.
Can’t imagine what I do now.
I’ve had my share of women, but Harper’s someone special, and not just because she’s got a magic pussy that makes me come so hard that I’m the one seeing stars. Stars, the sun, the moon and an entire nebulae of shit I never imagined or deserved. Harper might be uptight, buttoned-up and way too grown up, but she’s also a revelation. No way will I pull out and walk away now.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Harper
AFTER VIK BANGS me senseless against my own door, he decides it’s time to christen every room in my new place. When I point out the ambitious scope of this plan, he suggests a compromise. He makes me come in each room, and then we end up in my bed. He steals a selfie of the two of us together (from the neck up) to send to his dad, who’s still on Vik’s case to date “someone nice.”
Vik says I’m perfect for the job.
I’m not getting out of bed for at least a day. Too bad there’s no Fitbit for sex—I’d have burned a million calories by now. Vik grins down at me. Having me sprawled beneath him appears to be his favorite position, although he doesn’t discriminate. We’ve done it up against the wall, on the floor and doggy style. Right now I’ve got the best view ever of his gorgeous face. His eyes crinkle up at the corners because the man’s that goddamned happy. Or possibly I’m blurry-eyed from all the sex.
