Lily shook her head. She hadn’t planned it. But Tina would find a way to make her evening front-page newsworthy. “We met on Padre Island, split a bottle of wine, discussed his sister’s case, and talked about our lives—very innocent, trust me.”
“Bullshit,” Tina countered. “You can’t fool me. From the moment you met Lang, I recognized the look in your eyes. You wanted him. Admit it. Not just to me, but yourself. Be happy, girlfriend. Hiding out at work or stuck in this apartment day after day doesn’t cut it. Details now, or I’ll keep you awake all night.”
Lily crawled into a half-seated position. “Good thing it’s an administrative day tomorrow, I don’t have to go to work.”
“Yeah, well, spill.” Tina propped her slippered feet on the stool in front of her. “I’m waiting.”
Lily wasn’t ashamed of what happened earlier, not really. Lord knew her body needed it. And engaging in intelligent conversation with a handsome man after months of disappointment…well, she felt relieved to know she still possessed a shred of appeal to the opposite sex. Dating took practice. “All right…” She let loose, not forgetting a single detail.
“On the beach?”
Of all the things Lily had shared, that’s what Tina singled out? Lily giggled. “Yes.”
“Wow. I didn’t know you had it in you. You always struck me as a strictly on-your-back, on-the-mattress girl, playing the vestal virgin.”
“You paint a very bleak picture of me, Tina. I’m not a wallflower. Just very careful and selective. Remember, I’ve been burned before, so I’m not exactly looking for Mr. Right.”
A devilish twinkle lit Tina’s eyes. “I can’t disagree, because you found Mr. Wrong. Wrapped in leather and riding a Harley. That’s not a coincidence, Lily, it’s fate.”
This is where Lily diverged from most females. She’d tried the whole traditional romance thing and didn’t like it—dinners, movies, long walks on the beach, flowers, chocolate…Textbook perfect, and all monumental failures. At first she blamed it on bad timing or poor matches. But over time, she began to believe some people were destined to stay single. Besides, she had more important things to devote her life to—like her career and family.
Fate, shmate. “Shall I tell you what to do with your fate hypothesis?”
“Does it come with batteries?”
Lily snorted. “Pretty sure you can’t remember the last time you needed something battery-operated to get off.”
“On that note, Ms. Gallo, I have a date with my bed.” Tina approached the sofa and kissed her cheek. “Sleep in tomorrow, I have a feeling Lang isn’t done with you.”
Lily followed her to the door, then locked it.
She needed some time to wrap her head around what happened tonight. But she’d definitely see him tomorrow to get her car. Vincent had offered to drive her back to the island, but she’d had another drink at the clubhouse after Doc stitched Lang up, so she’d had no choice but to come home.
Lily stripped her clothes off on the way to the bathroom, leaving a trail in the hallway. A hot bath and bed were in order. She turned the water on, appreciating the fact that her apartment had a garden tub and separate shower. Although Sendera BayPoint was not a luxury complex, it did boast very comfortable units. One of the few perks Lily afforded herself—a pleasant place to live.
She padded to her kitchen and opened the fridge, in search of something sweet—comfort food. She grabbed a bowl of green grapes and hipped the door shut. As she headed for the bathroom again, her cell rang. She rushed to the dining room and fished her cell out of her purse and took it with her to the bathtub.
“Hello?” She didn’t bother checking who was calling so late.
“Counselor,” Lang said. “Wanted to make sure you made it home okay.”
Lily smiled to herself. “That’s sweet,” she said, turning the water off. “I can’t believe Moco smashed a bottle over your head, Lang.” She set the bowl of grapes on the edge of the tub, then lowered herself into the steaming heat, letting out a little sigh.
“Did you just moan, Lily?”
She closed her eyes, his gravelly voice conjuring memories of what he’d done earlier—she could feel his stubbled face between her thighs, his tongue spiraling over her clitoris, his strong hands squeezing her ass…
“Lily? Did I lose you?”
“No,” she croaked. “I-I…”
“Couldn’t stop thinking about me while you’re taking a bath?”
He’d obviously heard the tap. “Guilty. How are you feeling?”
“Took a couple aspirin, downed a few beers, and now I’m comfortably numb. But let’s focus on you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, Lily,” he rumbled. “Are you alone?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I want you to put me on speaker and put the phone down.”
Without thought, she obeyed him.
“Can you hear me, Lily?”
“Yes.”
“That sweet little pussy deserves my attention every day.”
His words were both shocking and sensual.
“Get comfortable, Counselor, rest your head against the back of the tub, and spread your beautiful legs for me.”
“Are you serious?” She’d never done anything like this before, not even sexting.
“Stop overanalyzing, do what I say.”
She reclined, resting each ankle on the edge of the bathtub, her breasts nearly submerged in the water.
“I love your pussy, Lily. It’s so fucking tight, so wet for me—so fucking hot.”
Lily groaned—swearing she could feel his hands caressing her cheek, then sliding down her hips.
“Tonight was just a teaser, baby. I want more. I want to fuck you with my tongue, fingers, and cock—make you orgasm so hard. Then I’m going to pump you full of come. All night. Every day.” He punctuated each filthy word.
And she liked it—mentally begging for more.
“I want to strip you naked in the light, see every inch of your perfect body. I want to suck your nipples and thrust inside you at the same time. I want to kiss that mouth—that hot little tongue will do anything. Then you’ll drop to your knees, baby, and suck me so hard I’ll pump you full again. Do you swallow, Lily? Do you want to taste me?”
Lily’s hand found her core, she couldn’t help it. Still sensitive from hours ago, she lightly touched her clit.
“Lang…” His name slipped out on a purr.
“Do it, Lily. Pretend I’m finger-fucking you. Touch yourself…”
Lily penetrated herself with two fingers. She’d always relied on Old Faithful, the small-enough-to-carry-in-her-purse vibrator she’d purchased a couple of years ago. Never like this—not with a man guiding her.
“Don’t make me do this, Lang. I-I’m…”
“Do you know how sweet you taste? I can still smell you, Lily. I didn’t wash it all away. I want to savor you as long as I can. I regret not fucking you on the beach. The risk of getting caught makes it that much better. Touch yourself, Lily. Scream for me.”
Her fingers slid in and out now—her breathing erratic.
“Three fingers, Lily. Not even close to how thick I am. But I want you to prepare that little snatch for me. Get ready for the night I take you in my bedroom and claim you. Because that’s what’s going to happen, Lily. I’ll make you mine. After tasting you, I can’t let another man have you….”
She arched her back, her orgasm swift. It wasn’t really her hand, but his huge cock penetrating her, awakening her body from a millennium of sexual hibernation. “Lang,” she called out to him. “I’m coming…”
“You’re almost mine, Lilliana Gallo. Ponder what that means. I’ll call you in the morning, sweet girl.” He disconnected.
Chapter 15
Lang turned in to the Port Royal Ocean Resort. He’d come prepared for the beach, wearing board shorts and a muscle shirt. He climbed out of his 1967 Chevy pickup and pressed the button for the car alarm on his remote. He’d
have a Corona, swim a few laps in the pool, maybe soak up some rays on the sand, but he needed to stay focused on the task at hand first. No more drug runs by his Brothers.
Felipe greeted him outside the double glass doors to the lobby, his black Mercedes parked a few feet away in the VIP section. “Welcome to Port A.”
Lang didn’t bother shaking his hand. “I want to keep this brief.” He also wanted to shove his fist down Felipe’s goddamned throat for going behind his back. But he was only a front man for the cartel. And the Sons of Odin didn’t have the kind of firepower to start a war over Moco and Sampson’s bad choices.
“Before we discuss formal business,” Felipe said, “I have a little surprise waiting for you in my suite.”
Lang had experienced Felipe’s “surprises” before. Underage prostitutes and cocaine, none of which interested him. “Not here to party,” he emphasized. “Here to cut a deal.”
“Moco is a friend,” Felipe said, already knowing the reason for the meeting.
“He’s my Brother,” Lang upped him. “Bylaws forbid drug running, so do treaties with other charters. Are you trying to fuck us on purpose?”
Felipe grinned, his teeth yellowed with nicotine stains. “I don’t know your source of information, amigo, but you heard wrong. Moco approached me, propositioned me a year ago. And who am I to turn down such a generous offer?”
Lang swallowed, hands fisted at his sides. “Never take responsibility, do you?”
“Would you?” he asked, leading Lang through the lobby and out onto the patio. “This arrangement could benefit us both.”
Lang hated the bastard. Born in Tucson, Felipe tried to pull off the Mexican gangster front. Even adopted the local accent for effect. But Lang saw through it—never respected a man who wasn’t true to his roots.
The place resembled most resorts between South Texas and Mexico, with its expansive raised garden beds and palm trees, colorful stucco buildings and thatched-roof bungalows, and uniformed attendants running around with trays of drinks and fresh towels. Lang sat at a table with an umbrella blocking out the heat of the sun.
Felipe handed him a Cerveza Pacifico and he took a long swig. “I’ll give you forty-eight hours to cancel your deal with Moco and Sampson. If you don’t, I’ll call in a favor.” He didn’t have the patience Jess possessed, and didn’t know if he’d make the best president. It’d always been fists first, talk later for Lang, with negotiations left to better-tempered Brothers.
“You’ve been honest with me,” Felipe said. “Helped me meet my quotas for Sandoval every time. But what makes you think you can show up here and start flexing your muscle?”
Lang leaned back, completely relaxed. “Tell me how much profit you make from my deliveries.” Every month the Sons of Odin moved shipments of firearms across the border—AK-47s, AR-15s, MAC-10s, and handguns—all untraceable, saving the cartel tens of thousands of dollars and long prison sentences if their men got busted. “Fifty thousand a load?” Enough to pay his own drug mules.
Felipe cocked his head. “Give or take.”
“How’s that wife and son?” Lang changed the subject. “Linda and Elion, right? Still living in that villa in San Pedro?”
“Are you threatening my family?”
Now the asshole was listening. “Simple question, Brother.”
“We’re expecting another baby.”
“Congratulations.” Lang patted his shoulder. “Would you shove balloons filled with coke and heroin up their asses and send them across the border?”
Felipe downed the rest of his beer and set the bottle on the table, visibly shaken. “No.”
“Then don’t do it to my family. You can’t expect me to turn a blind eye while you take advantage of my club’s connections and the protection my patches offer. There’s been some bad shit landing teenagers in the hospitals lately. Reporters claim the heroin is cut with brick dust or glass, even floor cleaner.”
Felipe glared at him with laser-like focus. “Don’t tell me you believe that sensationalistic bullshit on the news. My boss likes turning a profit, but if our product starts killing kids, how long do you think it would take for us to be out of business?”
Lang didn’t trust him as far as he could spit. “Cradle to grave, Felipe. It’s your responsibility to keep tabs on your distributors, even the street dealers. If one of my Brothers gets caught in the middle of some scandal because a rich kid flatlines from your poison, I’ll come after you first.”
Felipe tapped his chin, then smoothed the end of his mustache. “Jessie had aspirations for the charter—you apparently don’t. My boss won’t take this well, Lang. We don’t like people who break contracts.”
“I alone represent the Sons of Odin. That’s where you fucked up, trusting the handshake of a Brother who didn’t have the right to make any arrangements with you. Not on club time, and surely not wearing colors. You know the game.”
“The knife cuts both ways, Lang.”
“A chance I’m willing to take to keep my Brothers safe.”
Lang stretched his legs out, gazing across the courtyard, admiring the turquoise-colored water in the three connected pools. Not to mention the eye candy running around in bikinis. Rarely taking a break from club business, he’d decided to act like a tourist today. He smiled at the thought of Lily splashing around with a skimpy bathing suit top nearly falling off her generous breasts. He took another drink, letting that fantasy sink in. Just thinking about her lightened his mood. Maybe Felipe would walk away without a bruised face after all.
“This has no bearing on our other business,” he reminded Felipe. “We’re happy with the way things have been going.”
“Fat bank accounts keep everyone satisfied,” Felipe muttered. “I misjudged you, Lang. You’re the youngest president to take control of the club. I considered it an opportunity to expand our mutually beneficial friendship. You’ve disappointed me.”
“If those expansion plans include something that doesn’t violate my treaty with the other clubs, I’m willing to listen to whatever proposal you come up with. I like money. But I like my freedom better. And just because I’m younger than Jess, that doesn’t make me the kind of man who’s willing to risk everything for a bigger payout. We’ve survived because of mutual respect for each other and charter bylaws. Discipline is the first thing a Prospect masters before he’s even considered for full membership. I suggest you do the same.”
Felipe snorted. “I’ll deliver your message.”
“Good.” Lang signaled for one of the attendants with a pile of towels in his hands. He grabbed one. “Now, if you don’t mind, Felipe, I’m going for a swim.”
Better to walk away now. Silent fury filled Lang that Felipe’s ambition had led to this kind of confrontation. Professional partnerships called for strict adherence to rules. No one got hurt that way. He chose a lounge chair a few yards away and emptied his pockets. Women watched as he stripped off his shirt, revealing his tats. The handle of Thor’s black and silver hammer disappeared under his waistband.
“Did that hurt?” a pretty brunette called from the water.
Used to women flirting, he faced her. “I got shit-faced on tequila before I sat in the chair,” Lang answered with a smile. “So I can’t give you an honest answer.”
“You didn’t get that done in one sitting?”
“Do I look like a masochist?” He walked down the three steps leading into the shallow end of the pool shaped like an electric guitar. The cool water felt good on his tense muscles.
“I’m Sheri.” She offered her hand.
“Lang.”
“Sons of Odin?” she asked, eyeballing his left arm.
His club name was scrolled in block letters, with two ravens, wings spread, flying above. “A riding club,” he commented, not in the mood to explain to a tourist who he was. “Where’re you from, darlin’?” he asked.
“New Hampshire.”
She looked the part, another privileged New Englander bored with her safe l
ife. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
Fuck. Legal in most states, but untouchable in his world. “Where’s your father?”
“In Japan. Why do you ask?”
“Because if he were here, you wouldn’t be talking to me. It’s nice to meet you, Sheri, but I have a little sister who’s close to your age.” He scanned the pool, finding teenagers playing water volleyball. “See the dudes over there?” He pointed.
Sheri turned around. “Yeah.”
“More your speed, okay? But you tell them if they disrespect you in any way, I’ll kick their asses.”
She laughed, then slowly headed in their direction.
“You handled that well….”
His tats were a pussy magnet. Lang met the blonde’s amused gaze. “Glad you approve.”
“I’m twenty-six,” she announced. “A big girl by most standards.”
His eyes swept up her body with appreciation. Electric-yellow bikini and huge tits—not enough to keep him entertained after spending quality time with Lily. Though he liked to look, it stopped there. At least until he figured out what he wanted from Lily. He grinned, then dove under the water, determined to get in a few laps before he moved to the beach.
The second pool connected to the first by way of either a footbridge or a small waterfall. Lang braved the waterfall, appreciating the less crowded area. He swam to the far end and caught the attention of a server.
“Bloody Mary,” he ordered.
Leaning against the wall of the pool, he watched people shuffle by. Mostly families or groups of girls checking out the guys playing volleyball. He hadn’t had the advantage of hanging out at resorts or bumming around in Port A when he was a teenager. He’d fish once in a while, spend a Sunday on Padre Island with his friends, but most of his free time was spent in the club shop working on bikes.
His father had expected him to graduate high school and go straight to the Motorcycle Mechanics Institute in Dallas to get certified as a motorcycle technician specialist—a Harley-Davidson-approved program. More of his overly shrewd father’s financial genius at play. For a nominal up-front investment, his father would make big returns.
Persuasion Page 9
