by Debra Kayn
His chest rose and she lowered her hand to the broad expanse of skin. She drew a line around the diamond shaped pattern of hair in the middle of his chest. Even without trying, his natural attributes accented the contours of his muscles and created a slight dip in the middle of his chest.
His heart raced underneath her hand. She bent her fingers and dragged her nails through the hair, scratching him lightly. She paused. He'd wanted her to find out how he enjoyed being touched but so far, he seemed oblivious to what she was doing. She'd failed to get a rise out of him.
She followed the thin line of hair from his chest down his stomach. In the day, when he'd changed his shirt, she'd seen the defined six-pack he carried. Those lines disappeared when he relaxed at night in bed.
Thinking she was taking too long exploring and he'd fallen asleep, she propped her elbow in the mattress to touch the thigh opposite of her, and her forearm bumped into his hard, warm cock. She stilled, afraid to disturb his rest.
"Don't stop," he said his voice rough and aroused.
Her interest in exploring his thigh left instantly, and she wrapped her fingers around his hardness. Warmth came off him hotter than she imagined his body could heat. His velvet soft skin, softer than any of her own, covered the rock hard proof he wasn't immune to her touch.
Cam bit off a groan and laid his arm across his forehead. She leaned against him and stroked his length, being careful not to hurt him. His legs tensed and his cock pulsed bigger against her palm. A thrill coursed down her spine, settling between her legs.
His reaction came from her touch. She liked that.
He continued to give her time to get to know his body without making a move toward her. She skimmed her finger around the head, trailing the ridge, finding the veined line underneath his cock and tracing it down his length.
His balls constricted, the skin holding them grew taunt. She tickled her fingernails over the surface. His thighs quivered, and her nipples pulsed. Usually when he came to her, he was already primed and ready for sex. This time, she'd brought him to the same point of losing control that he took her. That same need made her desperate for one more touch, one more stroke, one more of everything to take her over the edge. To have power over someone else was intoxicating and in some ways, better than being on the receiving end.
She scooted down on the bed and kissed the end of his cock. She lingered and swept the flat of her tongue along his skin.
"Jesus...," Cam mumbled, rubbing his hand over his face.
She eased back. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No," he said. "Fuck, no. Keep going."
If that wasn't answer enough, his cock pulsed in agreement against his stomach. She moved down between his spread legs, kneeled on the bed, and lowered her mouth to his hardness. She placed her hands on the bed at the sides of his hips. From her advantage point, she controlled how much of him to put in her mouth.
He lifted his head off the pillow to look down at her and groaned. She held his gaze and sank lower, taking more into her mouth. She wanted to return his attention. She wanted him to approve of her bravery and curiosity. He had a handful of willing women always around who'd blow him off at the snap of his fingers, and she wanted to be the only one he wanted. She needed to know he belonged to her, the same way he claimed to want her.
She swallowed and added her hand to his cock, pulling and pushing. Her tongue caressed the sensitive vein along his length. His hips snapped, meeting each plunge of her mouth. Her movement lacked rhythm and she stopped, started again, and tried to time her strokes with her mouth. Clumsy and inexperienced, she glowed under the moans coming from Cam. He seemed to enjoy her awkwardness.
He rocked into her mouth, straining against her hand. She sucked him deeper.
"Yeah, harder, baby," he said.
The arousal in his voice encouraged her. Her sex dampened and she spread her legs, moving back and forth. The more he moved and participated, the more turned on she became.
He propped himself up on his elbows and his jaw dropped with each gasp of breath. She tightened her grip on his cock. Her mouth pumped him. Her hand violently stroked him. Caught up in the heated excitement of her own body, she went at him harder and faster than she planned.
Cam's hand came down toward her head and he caught himself before touching her. She never missed a stroke, yet her gaze followed his fist hovering above her. Her body vibrated, aroused and needy. She wanted to tell him it was okay to touch her. Instead, she locked her gaze on him and kept up the pace.
"Fuck..." Cam's hips pumped. "That's it."
His warning came at the same time his cock pulsed and he filled the back of her throat. Instinctually, she swallowed. The added pressure set off another groan from Cam. She absorbed his shudders, adding her own. Unable to stay still, she rocked on her knees, needing something, anything to touch her.
Cam rolled his stomach muscles and sat up, scooping her under her armpits and laying her beside him. She inhaled shakily, not wanting to go to sleep and knowing she couldn't in the excited state of her body.
Cam shifted to his side, a lazy smile on his lips. "Your turn."
"Good," she said, smiling.
His hand slipped into her panties. She arched against his touch and it was all over for her. Her body convulsed in pleasure and with the wonder he always brought her, she realized mutual satisfaction was theirs, anytime they wanted it.
Chapter Twenty
The motorcycles in Cam's yard quieted, letting the sound of the television come back into the living room. Christina picked up Jeremy's dirty plate from the coffee table and carried it into the kitchen. They'd ordered pizza again, because Cam had business outside with the club.
Jeremy followed her into the kitchen. "I'm going to go hang out with the guys."
"Your dad wants you to stay inside tonight." She shut the dishwasher door and flipped the switch to cycle.
"Then I'll work on my motorcycle." Jeremy walked backward.
"He doesn't want you outside." She shrugged. "You can ask him why later. In the meantime, why don't you go grab your dirty clothes and bring them downstairs. I'll throw them in the wash machine in the morning."
"Whatever," Jeremy muttered.
A masculine scream permeated the walls of the house. Her head jerked toward Jeremy, and they both stared at each other.
"What was that about?" she asked, holding a hand to her chest.
"I'll go find out.
Christina grabbed Jeremy's arm, holding him back from rushing outside. "You're not going out there."
Jeremy pulled away from her and walked out of the kitchen. She hurried after him. The Moroad members often fought and carried out punishments. She wanted to keep Jeremy safe.
She caught up to him in the foyer. "You need to stay inside."
"I could help them."
"You can't when you don't know what's going on." She scratched the itch at the base of her neck. "I'll go look. Stay inside, and do not come out."
"Right, like sending out a woman in my place is okay." Jeremy stormed past her, sounding so much like his dad. "I'm going to see if they need me."
"Jeremy, no. Get back here." She reached for him and missed.
The door slammed in her face before she could stop him from going against Cam's orders. Cam always let Jeremy attend the meetings and parties. Whatever was going on outside had to be bad. She clamped her lips together, blew out her cheeks, and let the air go in one blast. Someone had to watch out for Jeremy.
She opened the door and stepped out on the porch. Like other nights, the bikers congregated near the ratty old travel trailer and bonfire. She peered out into the crowd, trying to find Cam and found him near the fire. From this distance, she couldn't hear what they were saying.
Jeremy worked his way around the men and found an opening in the circle. The reflection of the fire showed Jeremy's face constricted in pain. Christina stepped down from the porch and walked in his direction. Whatever was going on revolted him, because he turned
away and covered his mouth. She had to get Jeremy inside before someone noticed him.
She stumbled through the dark in the uneven grass and reached Jeremy's side. "Come on."
Jeremy's feet stayed planted. She glanced over her shoulder at what was keeping his attention and gasped in horror. Half-rack kneeled beside an upturned log, snorting white powder up his nose. It wasn't the drug use that stole her breath and threatened to bring up the contents of her stomach. Cam and Gunner stood behind Half-rack using their knives to carve into his shirtless back.
Cam's gaze met her eyes. She held on to Jeremy at the anger thrown in her direction.
"Get back in the house." He let his hand with the knife fall to his side. "Now."
She stepped backward, dragging Jeremy with her, and when the boy started to walk on his own, she ran to keep up with his longer strides. Once inside the house, she paced the living room but her stomach got the best of her. She ran to the bathroom and heaved into the toilet. When she was done, she washed her mouth out and swished mouthwash around to get rid of the bile burning her throat.
Jeremy stood in the door of the bathroom. "Why would they hurt another Moroad member?"
"I...I don't know." She swallowed, feeling sick to her stomach again.
"They're brothers." Jeremy's tone quieted as if talking to himself. "The club protects one another. That's what Cam told me. Once you're in, you're in for life."
She guided him back into the living room and sat him down on the couch. Her thoughts were just as jumbled. The little Cam told her about the motorcycle club, she assumed they all remained close, because they understood each other. Each one of them had spent time in the state prison. They were without families or loved ones for support. They relied on each other to fit in on the outside, and have each other's backs when they were on the inside of the prison.
Cam's lifestyle had changed her to accept some of his questionable behavior, but hurting a man from Moroad MC? She shook her head, sick over the thought. Cam thought of his men as family members, as brothers. He couldn't excuse his actions this time.
She'd become sympathetic toward Moroad's plight to survive and move forward, and even enjoyed the more carefree days not being tied down to a job or obligations. She never missed living alone or forcing herself out of her comfort zone in town. Cam and the club had become her refuge. She fit in, or at least they made her feel that way.
But she did not fit in when senseless violence happened. Nobody could tell her Half-rack deserved to have his body tortured. She grabbed Jeremy's hand for support and squeezed. At Jeremy's age, he refrained from any touch or show of affection and she'd respected his need to keep his distance. Tonight, he held on to her hand. They both needed each other. Half-rack was always friendly when visiting the house and even took Jeremy out for rides, helping him gain more experience so he could go on longer road trips with the club.
Cam's abuse toward his MC brother was wrong.
Outside, the men quieted. Christina strained to hear anything that would give a hint of what was happening. The only thing coming through the open window in the living room was the crackle of the fire going in the burning barrel outside.
Jeremy stood. She jumped to her feet. "Where are you going?"
"My room." His jaw ticked in anger. "I don't need this bull shit."
"Jeremy?" She sighed, watching him run up the stairs.
She understood the conflicting emotions he struggled through, because she had her own thoughts and feelings toward what she'd witnessed. Jeremy wanted a father, a blood relative to love him. She wanted Cam to accept her, despite his less than stellar choices he made. One side of Cam fulfilled their needs, and the other scared them.
How could she separate the bad from the good?
She sank down on the couch and let her head fall back on the cushion. Cam had told her many times he'd never change. While she respected him taking responsibility for every choice he'd made in his life, where did she draw the line? Murdering other men to protect his life and his club made sense when he explained it, even though it wasn't right. The illegal activities she suspected the club partook in were against the law, against everything society ruled as fair and just. Her head pounded. She could lose him if law enforcement caught him doing his crimes. Now that she'd had him in her life, not just through letters, she wanted to keep him. What did that say about her?
He'd taught her the difference between bad and good while in prison. Now she was just as screwed up knowing what he was doing. How could she influence him to walk away from the dangers that would ultimately take him away from her?
The front door opened and Cam walked straight past her without looking. The bathroom door shut. She flinched. It bothered her that he always kept part of him shutoff from her, and yet expected her to give herself over fully to him.
The old water pipes groaned in the wall behind her. She folded her arms and waited Cam's shower out. While she wasn't expecting answers to her questions, she needed to know any minute the cops wouldn't bust down the door and come drag him away from her and Jeremy.
God, did he even think about his son? She rubbed her head against the pain that worry brought to her. Jeremy deserved more. He deserved a father. Cam had taken an oath to provide a stable home for his son.
The front door opened and Gunner stepped inside. "Where'd Cam go?"
"He's in the shower," she said, standing up from the couch.
Gunner glanced down at his own arms covered in blood. "Tell him Half-rack is out and we're leaving."
She pressed her hand to her stomach, sick at the thought Half-rack lay outside hurt or worse. The man had been nice to her. He didn't deserve what his own MC brothers did to him.
"Out?" she asked.
"Yeah, he's gone."
"I-I..." She covered her mouth and muffled her next question. "He's dead?"
They couldn't get away with murdering someone for no reason. That was sick and wrong.
Gunner avoided her eyes. "I think I better speak with Cam."
"I'm here," Cam said behind her.
She turned around and found Cam frowning in the hallway. She couldn't listen and walked toward the bedroom. She scooted close to the wall, so not to touch Cam, but he tagged her wrist.
She jerked. "Excuse me."
"Give me a kiss," he ordered.
She gasped. "No."
His hand cupped the back of her neck and dragged her forward. She put her hands on his chest, stopping him. His jaw ticked. She was no match for his strength and his lips assaulted her mouth. She swung out, hitting at his shoulders.
He plunged his tongue into her. Goosebumps broke out on her body and her body succumbed to his dominance. Though her mind hated him for what he'd done.
He broke away and growled. "Remember your place."
"Go to hell," she spit out, jerking away from him.
In the bedroom, she released her anger and slammed the door. If he wanted his secrets, he could keep every one of them. She wouldn't allow him to use her while he played a dangerous game with other peoples' lives. She wanted security, but not at the expense of becoming an accomplice.
The door opened, banging against the wall. Cam glared. "Get out."
He left and walked back into the living room. She glanced at the nightstand where she'd set the pistol after coming back from town. He'd given her the power to leave at any time. Wanting the strength inside of her to mean something, she left the weapon behind and walked out to talk with Cam.
She could stand up for herself the right way.
Cam stood by the window, lit a cigarette, and threw the lighter across the room in anger. She stopped at the edge of the couch, close enough to the hallway; she could run inside the bedroom before he caught her.
An unexpected warning trickled down her spine and settled in her stomach. Even when he'd killed those two men, he'd done it without showing any feelings. No anger. No sadness. No remorse.
With her, he'd shown her only patience. She let her hands fall to
her sides. He'd slept beside her for weeks before pushing her to except him sexually. He'd saved her from going through life believing something was wrong with her because she had violent tendencies that ate her alive. He'd lifted the guilt and let her mourn her lose, and go on with her life.
"Cam, we have to talk," she said.
Cam glared. "You're not talking. I am."
The rage rolling off him was out of character for him. People who got angry were unpredictable. She steeled herself. From experience, anger made people snap. When and if that happened to Cam, she'd be in his way.
"When I give you an order to stay in the house it's for your protection." Cam pulled a hit off the cigarette and blew smoke out his nose. "What the hell were you thinking?"
She flinched. "I—"
"This isn't about you." He stepped forward and swept his arm out to the side, pointing to the window. "Every single man out there had an order. All it would've taken is one word from me, and you'd be dead. What happens in Moroad MC cannot get out or we risk every single person going back in the pen. Some of us have an execution hanging above us if we fuck up again. Something goes wrong or information leaks out and it's over."
"But—"
"Don't you get it?" He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray. "There's a kill order on anyone who walks, overhears, or comes on my property when we have club business, and that includes you. It also includes Jeremy until he patches in."
"I can't handle this." She turned to go in the room, grab her stuff, and get the hell away from Cam and Moroad MC.
He caught her arm and whirled her around to face him. She opened her mouth to scream and he kissed her hard, backing her up against the wall. She tore her mouth away.
"Cam. Stop." She gasped for breath.
He laid his forehead against hers, breathing just as hard. Her anger washed over her. How did they get in this mess?
"Baby..." He rubbed his head against hers, staying near her. "You have to understand."
She swallowed the lump gathering in her throat, forcing it back down. "I understand us. I don't understand when the club and your actions contaminate us."
