Falling For Crazy (Moroad Motorcycle Club)

by Debra Kayn

  Jacko took the pistol back out. "Do you have a belt?"

  She shook her head. "I could put on the pair of jeans I wore yesterday. They fit a little better."

  "Yeah. You better do that."

  She scooped the jeans off the top of the dresser and slipped into the bathroom.

  Glancing behind her, even though the door was closed, she shimmied out of her shorts and pulled on her jeans. She couldn't blame her weak and shaky arms on the lack of food. Every time Jacko touched her, she jumped, her adrenaline spiking.

  She left her tank untucked and went back out to the room. "Do you want me to carry the pistol because things have changed?"

  "Yeah." He stopped swaying. "Things have changed."

  "What happened?" She turned around and held up the back of her shirt.

  He slipped the gun under the waistband of her jeans. His hand lingered on her lower bare back. She instantly heated.

  "Jacko?"

  "Yeah?"

  She glanced over her shoulder. "You're touching me."

  He brought up his other hand and spanned his hands on each hip. "Good?"

  She turned her gaze back around, so she couldn't see his face. "I need to..."

  "What do you need, Momma?"

  "I need to apologize. I never meant to throw Sarah in your face last night or the other times." She quivered under his hands. "The thought of you moving on and being with other women hurts me."

  "Why?" He lowered his head and kissed the side of her neck.

  "I don't know." Her body twitched in response. "Why are you doing that?"

  He left his mouth on her sensitive skin. "I need you to listen to me and get what I'm going to say in your head. Can you do that for me?"

  She puckered her lips, blew steady, and nodded.

  "The other women had nothing to do with how I felt about Sarah." His warm breath heated her neck. "You have nothing to do with how I felt about Sarah. The other women have nothing to do with how I feel about you. I want to taste you again and touch more of you. I want you, not because you're fucking here, but because you're here. Argue all you want, but we have a bond, Momma. We loved Sarah, but damn, you're here and what I feel when I'm around you is like nothing I've felt for you before. Sarah's not here now. She'll never be here."

  She closed her eyes. His explanation sucked, and yet she found herself agreeing with him.

  "That's all I got to say." He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest, and swayed with her. "Feel that?"

  She swallowed hard. His erection pressed against the top of her ass. She could ignore proof of him wanting her, but her body vibrated.

  What would it hurt to get together with him? She was a grown woman put in a difficult situation. Jacko would never put any rules on her, and he'd never try to convince her it was anything more than sex.

  "I feel it," she whispered.

  "Your move," he whispered back.

  Oh, God. He handed the decision to her, which she desperately needed when her life was careening out of control. The whole situation with her worries, visiting the past, and having her life stripped away from her and dependent on him only exasperated the circumstances.

  "It's not wrong if I turn around?" she asked.

  His tongue swept the side of her neck. "No."

  She pivoted and found herself smashed against his chest. He wasn't going to let her change her mind or move away from him.

  His gaze softened and heated. "Hey."

  "Hey." She held her breath.

  "Open your mouth."

  Lost in his eyes, she angled her head at his approach. She expected him to dive in and consume her. Instead, he gave her long, wet, and consistent. Exactly what she needed, she kissed him back.

  His hand slipped into the back of her jeans, and he removed the pistol. She pulled away from him and walked backward toward the bed. The second she moved, he moved with her and put his hands on her waist.

  "Too many clothes," he mumbled.

  He slid his hands underneath her tank, along her sides. She gasped when he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, kissing a titillating trail from her mouth to her chin and along her jaw.

  His tongue flicked her earlobe. She shivered, rolling with the arousal he created.

  He lifted his head and caught her gaze. "Hey, it'll be good."

  "Yeah," she answered, wanting that to be true.

  She sucked in air, lifting her arms as he removed her shirt. Her legs shook, threatening to fail her.

  His gaze dropped to her breasts. Goosebumps broke out along her arms, and her nipples peaked. He brought his hands back to her waist. His thumbs hooked her jeans and panties pushing them down as his gaze heated a path from her stomach, her pussy, her legs, and back up to her sex.

  She needed him to touch her before she made the foolish mistake of her life and stopped him. The intensity of him stripping her almost undid her.

  She couldn't think straight. She wanted him to slow down. She wanted him to speed up. She wanted him to continue giving her the pleasure she was experiencing.

  She held on to his arms, unsteady and unsettled. The last time she had sex, she'd been twenty-four years old. Years ago.

  Afraid she'd chicken out with Jacko, she fumbled with his belt and pulled the leather from the loop before she could change her mind. She tugged him forward as she stepped out of her jeans and panties. Her breath came heavy in her rush, shocking her at how desperate she sounded.

  He stepped back. Empty-handed, she curled her fingers into her palms and watched him.

  In a brusque move, he ripped off his vest, his shirt, and pushed his jeans over his hips and down his muscular thighs. She kneeled at his feet working on the laces of his boots, taking her eyes off his hard cock pointed in her direction.

  She'd never been with a man of his size before. He intimidated her and excited her. What if she wasn't up to taking him?

  She caught her lip between her teeth and glanced up for another look. His hardness pulsed, dripping pre-cum, and in return wetness flooded her sex. She wanted to worship at his feet, promise him the freedom to trespass her body with his hands, his mouth, his cock.

  Her inexperience only heightened her response to him. She was so into him; she almost missed the tilt of his mouth as he cocked his head to the side and watched her.

  He hooked his hands under her armpits dragging her to her feet. In a wild move, she kissed his stomach on her way up eliciting a groan from Jacko. His obvious pleasure encouraged her.

  She dragged her lips along the diamond shape hair on his chest. The hard muscles underneath her mouth were too perfect to ignore. She always desired a man with a broad chest and shoulders, wanting to lay her head within the safety of his arms.

  Jacko groaned, taking her to the bed. She landed softly on her back with him strategically positioned atop her and between her thighs, his face above hers.

  He reached above and to the left, opening the nightstand drawer. A condom appeared in front of her. He ripped the package with his teeth.

  "How...?"

  He stilled. "I put a handful of them in there when you took a shower the day after I woke up using your tits as a pillow. If anything had happened, I'd be the one taking care of you."

  "Oh." She absorbed his reason and decided she liked how he took responsibility for her.

  Jacko rolled to his side, put the condom on, and rolled back between her legs. Between the hunger blazing in his eyes and her legs trembling around his hips, she tightened her hold on his upper arms.

  A moment of panic tickled her chest. There was no turning back. Their friendship or whatever he called it would forever change.

  "Stop," he ordered.

  "What?"

  "Thinking," he said.

  She nodded.

  He kissed her. She latched on to his tongue, sucking, holding him close, needing the connection.

  He rubbed her hip and then slipped his hand between their bodies. She raised her hips seeking his fin
gers. He brushed his thumb over her clit. She moaned, quivering. Her body came alive. She slid her hand up into his hair.

  With her holding him, he slowly entered her, one tight inch at a time.

  He jerked his head back and hissed. His legs shook as he fought to go slow.

  She held on to him, widening her legs and watched the pleasure roll through Jacko as her heat surrounded him.

  Deep inside her, she pulsed. Connected in the most intimate way, he became a part of her. More than friendship. More than a relationship of understanding and common ground. More than sharing the past that had destroyed them both.

  He let his weight settle on her. She lifted her feet and hooked her heels behind his thighs.

  She felt him more than ever before.

  Inside her.

  Outside her.

  In her head, firmly planted.

  He drove deep and pulled out slow. Caught in his hypnotic gaze, she heard her heart beat deep and loud. Somewhere in the middle of her body overheating, Jacko brought her pleasure until she found herself wound tight and fighting for release.

  "Jacko?" She frantically grabbed him.

  She cried his name again, unsure of what she was asking him to do. He was doing everything right. Too right.

  "You're here," he said, pumping his hips in a steady up and down movement.

  She nodded, pulling his hair and scratching him with her nails. "Yes."

  "No, you're here." He groaned. "With me. Right here."

  He went faster, harder, driving, reaching deep, caressing her roughly, hurriedly, greedily. Her orgasm swelled and hovered within her grasp. Her legs tightened around him. She pressed her fingers into his firm, hard skin, anchoring her to him.

  Intense.

  Hot.

  Desperate.

  He bucked wildly. Her body grasped the pleasure, and she whimpered. Jolts tingled her lower stomach into a massive quake before sending tantalizing sweet warmth throughout her limbs.

  His hips rapidly thrust until he filled her deeply and held himself still, grinding against her. His eyelids half closed, he groaned out his release.

  Jacko let some of his weight down on her and placed his face against her neck. She held perfectly still. Afraid to show the guilt over having sex with the man who had loved her sister and regrets that life was cruel to both of them had her suddenly unsure of every aspect of her life. Turmoil quickly stole the good feelings Jacko gave her, and she slowly let out her breath and stared at the ceiling.

  "You're still here," he whispered against her skin. "And, I'm not going anyplace. You need to get that straight in your head because I won't put up with you pulling away, kicking me out of your bed, and telling me I can't be between your legs. However you feel you need to deal with what is happening, you deal and deal fast."

  Her eyes burned. "You're not giving me a choice?"

  He lifted his head and gazed down at her. There was nothing crazy about the way he held himself stiff and serious. "Do we ever have a choice?"

  She opened her mouth to argue the point and changed her mind. Long ago, she'd learned the hard way that no matter how bad she wanted to change the circumstances, she had no choice but to adapt, accept, and keeping living another day.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cam sat on his Harley in front of the motel holding the envelope Jacko gave him. Jacko jumped and grabbed hold of the low-hanging rafter supporting the roof over the walkway in front of the room. His weight pulled him down, stretching his spine.

  He swung his boots, back and forth. "You'll need to deliver the money right away and stick around until the lady at the front office acknowledges my instructions. Make her repeat them. I can't risk leaving in the middle of the night for a while."

  Cam slipped the package into his vest pocket. "Anything else?"

  Jacko let go of the rafter and landed on both feet. "Tell her if there's any sign to call me."

  "Right." Cam slipped on his gloves. "Since you're having me run the errand for you, and you know how I thought you should've made this decision years ago, I'm going to assume things with Amy have changed."

  Cam's opinion on how he ran things meant shit to him and he'd never make the mistake of letting him know his words cut him to the core. He wasn't a man to second guess himself. When Cam ordered him on a job for the club, Jacko never doubted his president's plan. He expected the same respect back.

  He nodded, and then laughed, grinning. "Yeah. Of course things are moving forward with Amy."

  "Are you going to continue using her to draw out Los Li?" Cam toed his kickstand and balanced the bike.

  Jacko glanced over at the motel room. "I told Bear and Johnson to get lost tomorrow night. I've already called Jeremy. He's going to hole out under the viaduct, and Stache agreed to take the River Road. That way if Los Li has their eyes on me, they'll notice the regulars will be gone. They'll know I'm alone with Amy."

  "I don't have to ask if you've got yourself protected. You're always prepared," Cam muttered. "Call if you need help."

  "Will do." Jacko grabbed his elbow and stretched his arm across his chest.

  Cam rode out of the parking lot. Jacko walked a few yards until his president's taillight disappeared. Bear and Johnson slept off a night of drinking and Amy stayed inside to clean the motel room. He jumped in place. The whole conversation with Cam had his muscles tense. He needed to let off steam and settle down.

  He never planned to change his life from living within Moroad, going after Reds and Los Li, and making sure money was his main focus for most of his adult life. He'd worked damn hard to create the right atmosphere and live life the way he wanted.

  It took five years of battling solitary confinement every three months to only get out into the general population of the prison and do something else to gain another ninety days in a cell by himself where no one watched, except security. While locked up alone, he'd figured out he could turn his back on the cameras and hide his face.

  Only when alone in solitary was he able to shed the mask he wore twenty-four/seven and internalize everything that had happened.

  The list of those he needed to kill replayed in his head, over and over, until he almost believed he'd fucked himself up. Maybe he was crazy.

  One—kill.

  Two—kill.

  Three—kill.

  On and on, he'd counted down the list. Only Flores and Quijada remained, and he'd kill them soon. He'd planned every step.

  In return for his lack of intelligence and his abnormal habits that marked him as crazy by the state, he'd set himself up for future arrests. Because of his lack of control and questionable mentality, the system was reluctant to keep him with the other guys. He rotated his shoulders and swayed. Any future jurors would hear the tales of him rocking side to side all night, barely sleeping, and the random observations he spouted to anyone close enough to hear.

  Any judge would be hard pressed to give him the death penalty. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

  The members of Moroad never questioned his position in the club anymore. Any job handed to him, he finished. He killed men where others balked. He stole as if he enjoyed taking the devil's fire. The more his MC brothers realized he'd lost his mind locked up in the pen, the easier it was to overhear information he could use later.

  "Hey," Amy said behind him.

  He whipped around and flinched in surprise, pretending she'd snuck up on him. She remained clueless that he was always paying attention. He'd heard the motel door click and her sneakers kick a pebble over the run-down asphalt before she even got close to him.

  Amy tilted her head, her mouth relaxed, and her eyes warmed. She held a black garbage bag over one shoulder and cocked her hip to the side. He eyed her shorts and his chest tightened.

  "Where's your jeans?" He wanted her to carry the pistol on her all the time, unless she was sleeping, and the way the shorts hung low on her hips, she had nowhere to hide a weapon.

  "In the bag, along with the sheets off the bed and the t
owels from the bathroom. They stink, and what I'm wearing is the last of the clean clothes Katie gave me." She dropped the laundry at her feet. "Can we go into town and do the laundry?"

  He eyed the bag. "You haven't worn the clothes long enough to get them dirty."

  "I've sat around at least ten bonfires since moving into the motel. While I don't mind the smell of the great outdoors, I've had more beer spilled on me from one of the bikers walking by than I've ever drank and there's grass stains on the butt of every pair of shorts I own." She turned around. "See?"

  Her ass barely filled out the shorts, but he'd had his hands all over her body and knew there was a nice, small butt underneath. Since she'd started living with him, she'd added some weight. He rubbed his forehead. Though she still needed to eat more.

  She turned back around and caught him ogling her. "Washing my clothes in the sink only does so much. They need a good cleaning."

  "You need more clothes."

  "No, I need to use a washing machine." She stared at his mouth. "I can bring the clothes back with us and hang everything up to dry behind the motel if you don't want to wait around the Laundromat."

  He owned two sets of clothes. Once a week or so, he ran the extra pair of jeans and T-shirt over to Christina at Cam's house to wash or dropped them off at Rail Point Bar and Desiree took care of it for him. A ten pack of socks and underwear saw him through ten days. He looked over at his Harley and back to the bag on the ground. He sure in the hell wasn't going to hoof it into town.

  "Jacko?"

  He motioned for her to follow him back to the motel room. Inside, he dumped the contents of his duffle bag on the bed and held out the empty canvas bag. "Put as much as you can in this. If not all of it fits, we'll have to make two trips."

  She put the sheets, her panties, a bra, a pair of jeans, three shirts, three shorts, and four towels in the duffle. "Okay, I'm ready."

  He picked up the bag and walked outside. Scanning the area, he went straight to his motorcycle, keeping Amy at his side. Two bungee cords later, he had the bag attached to the back of the seat.

  During all that time, Johnson and Bear remained inside their rooms. He stepped over to Amy and hooked her neck. Her skin warmed his hand, and he brought her within an inch away from him.