Blacklisted

by Jay Crownover

  We hadn’t known each other for very long, but he’d yet to let me down when I needed him, or needed something from him. It was more than I could say for the others who’d passed through my life.

  The admission sent Shot into a flurry of activity.

  He bent down and tugged my strappy sandals off my feet. When he stood back up, his busy hands brought my plain T-shirt up and over my head. I blinked in surprise when so much of my skin was suddenly exposed. He flicked open the clasp of my bra with no effort at all and watched with appreciative eyes as the silky fabric slithered down my arms and off my breasts. Not one to be left out of anything, Shot dragged his ever-present leather vest off his shoulders, and reached a hand behind his neck so he could pull his T-shirt off over his head. I’d never seen a man use that move in real life, and I instantly knew why it was so popular in TV and movies. It was hot. So hot. However, nowhere near as hot as the sculpted, tattooed body the move revealed. Every inch of Shot’s torso was carved with sharp lines and defined muscles. There was more skin with ink on it than was bare. It was a lot to take in, and while I was distracted with my gawking, I missed Shot going to the fastening on my jeans. In seconds he had me fully naked against the wall. The solid surface helped ground my overexcited system in reality and afforded him the leverage he needed to slide a hand under my ass so he could hoist me up.

  After I instinctively wrapped my legs around his lean waist, he guided my arms up around his neck, dark eyes watching me closely for any signs of resistance. I didn’t have any and if I did, it would’ve instantly melted away when he kissed me again. The way he kissed made me forget who I was, forget all the normal hang-ups and hesitations I had. It forced me to focus on how he made me feel.

  Slowly.

  Softly.

  Deeply.

  He kissed me the way you kissed someone you wanted to kiss again and again. It was the kind of kiss you gave someone you never wanted to forget.

  He dragged the tip of his nose across my cheek and stopped when his now-damp lips touched my ear. “You better hold on, Pres.”

  Again, the name that only he used, something special we shared. He was always the one pulling me closer when I was so used to being pushed away.

  I curled my arms around his neck even more tightly and shifted the kiss to something deeper and dirtier. Lots of tongue and plenty of eagerness. He responded by sneaking a hand in between our very close bodies so he could caress my breasts and roll his thumb over the sensitive points of my nipples. When we both desperately needed a second to catch our breath, he moved his mouth to my ear. His teeth nipped at the lobe, and he used his tongue to trace the delicate outline of the shell. When he dropped a tiny kiss on the hidden spot behind my ear, my entire body shuddered. No one before him had ever spent the time to search out all those secret, responsive places on my body. Even I was stunned by how strongly I reacted to the simple peck. He chuckled against my skin and repeated the motion.

  My legs tightened reflexively around his waist, and my back hit the wall again. I could feel my insides starting to quiver and clench. My thighs trembled, and I knew if he reached between my legs he would find the area already wet and wanting. I arched my back impatiently when he applied an almost painful pressure to the nipple he was playing with at the same time his teeth locked on the side of my neck. It was a lot of sensation, most of which I’d never experienced before. It all went to my head very quickly.

  “Take your pants off.” I’d never been this aggressive or open about what I wanted, and I had to admit it felt pretty great.

  Shot chuckled against the side of my neck, and the vibration sent sparks of desire shooting through my blood. I raked my fingers through the soft hair on the back of his head and wiggled impatiently in his unbreakable hold. The hand he had caught between our heaving chests moved slowly and deliberately across my skin. It felt like he was touching me everywhere, even though his fingers were clearly on a path to where our hips were pressed together.

  A moment later the sound of his belt buckle jingling and his zipper lowering echoed in the otherwise quiet apartment, and I felt the back of his knuckles drag deliberately through the silken folds between my spread thighs. My body jolted as if electrified, and all my nerve endings started to sing with pleasure.

  “So soft. So wet. I love the way you respond to me.” The husky words did as much to turn up the heat as the way he touched me between my legs.

  He shifted his weight and his hold on me so he could use a hand to dig through the wallet attached to his dark jeans by some kind of chain. When his jeans dropped to the floor around his ankles, there was a huge rattle as all the metal hit the ground. The sound was followed by him quickly discarding a pair of black boxer-briefs.

  He watched me without blinking as he ripped open the small foil square he’d pulled from his wallet, still waiting for me to resist or pull back. I wasn’t going to, but it was nice to know the option was there, regardless of how deep into things we were. He said he’d mind my boundaries as long as they were healthy and in my best interest, and he seemed to be staying true to those words.

  As he rolled the latex down the length of his erection, the backs of his fingers brushed against very eager and enthusiastic places. My breath caught when I felt the very tip of his cock press against my opening. He used his hand to guide himself inward, pausing to press the tip against the little bud of my clit. I gasped at the sensation and watched as satisfaction lit up Shot’s chiseled face. He looked even more darkly handsome than usual. The carnal slant to his strong features was something that made my heart beat erratically.

  I exhaled long and slow when he finally stopped playing with me and pressed all the way inside my body. I was like putty in his hands. I melted around him. Molded to him. My body hungrily pulled him in and clenched excitedly around his long, hard length. We both groaned in pleasure, and I could no longer keep my eyes open. It all felt like a dirty, sexy dream.

  I was probably choking the life out of him with how tightly I was clinging to him, from top to bottom, but he told me to hold on, so that was what I was doing.

  I moaned his name when he started to move, the motion smooth and practiced. The glide and retreat made my head spin and my body pulse happily around his powerful thrusts. He was so strong. Every part of him that was pressed against me flexed beautifully. I could feel his muscles tense and strain against my skin. It was so, so much better than with any of the polished, soft men I’d been with before him. I thought he wasn’t my type, but I was starting to think I had no idea what my type was. He was so much better than anyone before. He grunted against the curve of my shoulder where his forehead was resting. He muttered something that sounded like, “So good,” but I was too caught up in my own experience to appreciate the compliment.

  His fingers pressed into my flesh where he was holding me, and I knew I was going to have bruises in the morning. It didn’t matter. Everywhere else felt too good to focus on the parts that stung. I felt the edge of his teeth against my collarbone and pulled him closer as his steady rhythm started to falter.

  My body clenched in pleasure, everything inside going very slick and hot. Shot swore at my involuntary reaction and shifted so he could wrap the fingers of one hand around my jaw. He forced my head up and, with a growl, asked me to open my eyes. He held my face still, his nearly black eyes burning intensely into mine. He was close to the edge, I could see it in the strain and concentration on his face and hear it in the way his breathing hitched and skipped.

  “What do you need, Presley? Tell me.” The words were a rough rasp that brought goose bumps on my skin.

  I blinked at him and loosened a hand so I could wrap it around his wrist. His pulse thundered under my fingertips.

  “I need you.” It was true. He didn’t need to do much more than focus his full attention on me, and I was ready to fly apart.

  “Shit,” he swore under his breath right before dropping his hand from my face and sealing his mouth over mine. His tongue moved in and ou
t of my mouth in the same rhythm as his body and I could no longer think or see straight. “What are you doing to me, woman?”

  The question was enough to push me to the breaking point. I felt my body lock down on Shot’s cock and squeeze. He swore again, his hips rocking wildly against mine. The temperature seemed to skyrocket, and time felt like it was standing still. Everything in the world was centered on the two of us and where we were joined.

  I felt his cock flex and throb inside of me, and a moment later he let out a groan of satisfaction that was music to my ears.

  I was not a woman who had sex against the wall with a man whose entire body was covered in swirling, spiraling ink. I was not a woman who lost her head over a bad boy with all kinds of sexy swagger. I was not a woman who floated on a cloud of satisfaction because she’d brought said bad boy to the point his knees were shaking and he had to set her down before he dropped her.

  Only, I was starting to wonder if I was that woman and not who I’d believed I was before Shot and the Lawtons turned my world upside down.

  It was the best education a girl could ask for.

  Chapter 15

  Shot

  Do you know how many people I’ve had to examine after a motorcycle crash?” Presley looked at my Harley apprehensively. “Too many. They’ve always been some of the worst cases to come across my table.”

  She took the helmet I handed her and hugged it to her chest instead of putting it on her head. She looked doubtful and unsure, much like she’d looked an hour ago when she’d been on her knees in front of me in her cramped bathroom. This time I’d been the one leaning against the vanity, afraid the whole time that I was going to rip the thing out of the wall as she stumbled her way through a clumsy blowjob. Who knew that hesitation and inexperience were such a damn turn-on? Every wary touch, every cautious flick of her tongue, had me feeling like the top of my head was going to blow off. It was so honest. So much more real than all the practiced and slick moves of the women who knew their way around giving head. She told me it wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time she’d enjoyed the experience, which made me feel ten feet tall. There was something about her inherent innocence that flipped my switch in such an unexpected and exciting way.

  She really needed to find a new place to live. The apartment was garbage, totally unsafe, and the bathroom didn’t have enough room to do half the things I wanted to do with her. She needed a walk-in shower, one with enough room for two. I wanted to take her up against a tiled wall while the water cascaded all around us.

  Making sure she found a place that was in a safe and secure neighborhood was only one of the reasons I’d tagged along with her during her house hunt the day before. The other was so people around town would know I was taking the time I spent with Presley seriously. I wasn’t the type to spend a whole day doing something like looking at suburban houses, but I did it for her, which was bound to make a statement.

  I knocked on the helmet in her hands with my knuckles and winged an eyebrow up at her mutinous expression. “Put this on. Loveless is tiny. We aren’t going cruising on the highway or racing across the state. We’re just riding down to the diner to grab a late breakfast because we both burned a butt-load of calories last night.”

  I really was hungry, but it was also a good opportunity to make a bit of a show of being together the way Hill and Case had suggested. I didn’t press her yesterday when she obviously didn’t want to get on the back of the bike, but things were different now that I’d taken her to bed. The club had been set up outside of Loveless for years, and in all that time, I’d never had a woman on the back of my bike. I’d also never put in the effort to take one on a date, regardless of how low-key the encounter might have been. I might’ve been a handful of firsts for her, but she was also a shitload of firsts for me.

  When Presley didn’t jump to follow my order, or smile at my slightly suggestive words, I plucked the helmet out of her hands and plopped it on top of her glossy hair myself. I attached the strap under her chin and bopped her on the end of the nose with my finger.

  “Gotta get used to it sooner or later.” I bent down and kissed her nose on the same place I’d tapped her. If we were going to be together, regardless of how real or not it was, she needed to get comfortable being on my bike. The big machine was pretty much an extension of who I was, and one of my most prized possessions. It was the only thing I took away from my childhood, and the only thing waiting for me when I got home from each deployment.

  I watched her visibly gather her courage and set her jaw in a determined line. She nodded briefly before placing a pair of mirrored sunglasses over her worried green eyes.

  I climbed on the bike first and instructed her how to get on behind me. She gingerly placed her hands on my shoulders and tossed a long leg over the leather seat. I was surprised at the way the simple motion made my gut clench. I wasn’t expecting to like the way her slight weight felt pressed up against my back as much as I did. I was a solo rider. Always had been. But there was something nice and undeniably sexy about having a lush, warm female body locked against mine.

  I heard her gasp when I turned the engine over, and I grunted when she squeezed me tightly enough to push the air out of my lungs as the bike moved forward. I reminded her to move with me and to hold on tight.

  It seemed I was always telling her not to let me go in one way or another.

  When her life wasn’t in danger and the woman who was responsible for all her hurt and heartache was no longer a factor, we were going to have to sit down and have a serious discussion about those words and what they really meant.

  The ride to the diner only took five minutes. Regardless, Presley’s legs were shaking when I helped her off the bike. She leaned against me until she got her equilibrium back, which made me chuckle. I ran a reassuring hand up and down her spine as she popped the helmet off and shook her strawberry-tinted hair back into shape.

  “So?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “It wasn’t too bad. I guess I can see the appeal.” She pointed at the helmet I rested on the seat. “You should wear one of those. I’ve seen what happens to riders who don’t. It isn’t pretty.”

  I threw an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the front door of the diner. “I wear one when we ride anywhere out of town and if we ride into a state that has a mandatory helmet law.” No way was I giving the cops an easy reason to pull me over and give me a ticket. “My dad had me on a bike almost before I could walk. I’m more comfortable on two wheels than on four.” As much as I resented my old man and most of my stolen childhood, there were a few things I was thankful he’d given me. My love of motorcycles was at the top of the list.

  Presley pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head as we entered the diner. It was one of only a handful of full-service restaurants within a fifty-mile radius, and it was always pretty full of regulars, even when it wasn’t prime hours. Which made it a perfect place to flaunt my budding romance and get the gossips going. The sooner Ashby Grant made her move, the better. I wanted a chance to see if what Presley and I had could work without one of our lives hanging in the balance. I’d never had what most would consider a normal relationship before, so I was going to have to learn the basics right alongside her.

  My favorite waitress, Darlie, broke into a big grin when she saw me walk in. That grin quickly faltered when she saw I had my arm looped around Presley. Darlie was cute and fun. I’d spent some time with her on and off when I first got to town. I realized too late she looked at me like I hung the moon and was going to be her ticket to the good life in this small town. I wasn’t into anything more than a good time and a few stolen hours in the dark, so I’d cut things off. She still smiled whenever she saw me come into the diner, and she made it obvious she was waiting for me to change my mind.

  “Hey, Shot. You and the boys haven’t been by to see us in a while. How have you been?” Darlie skimmed her gaze over Presley and cocked her head to the side as she sized up the pretty redhe
ad next to me. “Who’s your new friend? You look really familiar, but I don’t think we’ve met.”

  I should’ve known Presley was going to hate being put on the spot like this. I was instantly irritated at Case and Hill for convincing me to put her on display for everyone and their mother. I could feel her squirming uncomfortably along my side.

  “She’s close to the Lawtons.” It seemed like Darlie might be the last person in Loveless who hadn’t heard about Conrad Lawton’s infidelity and his illegitimate child.

  “Oh. That’s right. I remember hearing that Kody was all up in arms over their old man having a bastard who he left his entire estate to.” It became clear too late Darlie knew exactly who Presley was and was just pretending so she could be catty and mean. “You look like Kody, but she’s much prettier.”

  Presley sucked in an audible breath and I felt her stiffen next to me. My instinct was to jump in and defend her, but Presley quickly reminded me she’d grown up being the outcast, the one blacklisted from social circles and not invited to sit with the cool kids.

  She copied the waitress’s head tilt and blinked her long lashes with exaggerated innocence. “I’ll be sure to tell Kody you think so, though I doubt she’s going to take it as a compliment. Are you going to show us to a table or should we just seat ourselves?”

  It was the perfect response. Everyone in town knew the Lawtons were tight and ready to throw hands if any one of them came under attack. Presley, none too subtly, just reminded Darlie that while she might not share their last name, she was part of the family and not someone Darlie wanted to pick a fight with.

  Darlie sniffed in indignation and whirled around to grab a few menus. We followed her to a table by the window where she practically threw the menus down as she bit out, “I’ll send Felicia over to wait on you guys.” She gave me a look and muttered, “You can do so much better,” before she stomped away.