Wild & Free_A Motorcycle Club Romance_Burning Angels MC

by Claire St. Rose

  “And I run the show here,” he said, grin widening. “So if I’m the king of the clubhouse, that makes you the queen.”

  She smiled up at him, butterflies making roaring rounds in her belly. “Oh, is that so?”

  “Damn straight, darlin’.” He pushed a hand through her hair, tenderness streaking his face. “And everyone will know it. Just you wait.”

  He leaned forward, snagging her lips in a kiss, one that sent pleasure spiraling through her, from her toes to her fingertips, with the knowledge that this was right. This was meant to be. And if she’d come to L.A. looking for something, she’d found it in Bo.

  EPILOGUE

  ONE MONTH LATER

  Dakota looked up from the computer when the doorbell rang. Ink Works had been non-stop busy the entire day, which was par for the course ever since she and Red had their Grand Opening two weeks ago. Under their direction, business was booming. And it seemed everyone in town wanted to get new ink on the hour.

  Bo grinned at her as he sauntered in, his dark hair perfectly styled, those dark eyes drinking her in. She’d never get tired of that gaze. Not in a million years.

  And after their first month as boyfriend and girlfriend, she had a pretty good feeling that this relationship would last every bit of those million years. Which made her pretty confident about the news she had to share with him tonight.

  “Hey, you.” She clicked out of the scheduling program and stood to kiss him. He growled a little as he did.

  “Damn, darlin’. I missed you.”

  She checked her watch. “I just left the clubhouse like three hours ago.”

  “I know. Still too long.” His grin widened.

  She laughed. It was ridiculous but true—she wanted more of him, every second. “I know, babe. I feel the same.”

  From down the hall, the buzz of Red’s tattoo gun reached her, followed by the steps of the new client she’d just finished up on, Jake. Bo stepped aside while he came around to the front of the desk, the brutish man grinning at her like they’d just hooked up. She smiled at him, feeling the spike of energy in the air with Bo so close.

  “Thanks, lovely lady.” Jake reached out his hand, looking for a shake. She shook his hand and he brought it immediately to his lips. The tension in the air skyrocketed and she could tell Bo was watching with hawk eyes, measuring this man’s every breath and move.

  “Hey, the ink came out great.” She yanked her hand back, offering a small smile. “Glad you’re happy with it.” She squinted at the computer, trying to focus on the scheduling program to look for his next appointment.

  “I’m more than happy with it,” Jake went on. “Let me take you out to show you how happy I am with it.”

  Dakota drew a sharp breath, looking up a just as Bo leaned against the counter, eyeing Jake like he was lunch.

  “Jake, let me introduce you to my boyfriend,” Dakota said in a bright voice, clearing her throat. She gestured to Bo. “Bo, please meet my new client, Jake. He had a great session and seems to want to take me out about it.”

  “Pleasure,” Bo intoned. The color drained from Jake’s face as he sized up Bo.

  “Gotcha,” Jake said, letting a nervous laugh. He rubbed his palms against his jeans. “Listen, I’ll just call about the next appointment. Let this heal in the meantime.” He paused, eyes darting between Bo and Dakota. “Thanks again.” He hurried from the studio, the front doorbell chiming happily in his wake.

  “Wow.” Dakota laughed, leaning back in her chair. “I’m proud of you.”

  He smirked, tracing his finger over an invisible pattern on the countertop. “You are?”

  “You didn’t beat him up or even punch him once,” she said, nodding. “You’re improving.”

  “It’s all for you, darlin’.” His eyes swirled dark and captivating. “I told you I was working on it.”

  “And you have been. I appreciate you keeping the threats to a minimum. You know how important my clientele is here.” She cast him a meaningful glance.

  “I know. And I love that you’re doing what you love.” He smiled. “This place looks a million times better since you redecorated in here.”

  “I tried,” she said, shrugging. “My art pairs nicely with the red walls, I think.” She gazed out at the waiting room. One wall featured the requisite flip boards of pre-made tattoo art, but the large majority of her own framed pieces, gothic, warped, strange, emotional pieces that, in her vision, promised an artistic adventure for anyone willing to go there.

  “And it’s gonna pair nicely with this studio tonight,” Bo said, his voice lowering. “You ready? My hog is.”

  She laughed. “Your hog is always ready.”

  “Which hog are we talking about?” Bo grinned devilish. “The one outside or the one in my pants?”

  “Both!” Dakota cackled with laughter while she scooped up her purse and headed for Red’s room. She poked her head in. “Red, I’m heading out to that event now. Bo is taking me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Red winked at her. “Good luck tonight!”

  Dakota hummed happily, joining Bo in the waiting room. He offered his arm, like the secretly gallant gentleman he was. “Shall we?”

  A couple hours later, after stop-and-go traffic in the city and then an exhilarating seaside highway ride, Bo and Dakota pulled up to the trendy art studio in Santa Monica. Spotlights illuminated squat palms and vibrantly red bushes lining the main walkway. She and Bo strolled up to the front door hand-in-hand.

  At the front door, they paid a little fee to see the show and then entered the moodily lit reverence of the gallery. Wooden floors gleamed, and stark, industrial chic walls bore sparse yet haunted images, a collection of trauma artwork from various artists.

  Bo looked around, clearing his throat. She slung an arm around his waist, grinning like a fool.

  “Pretty cool, huh?” They walked forward slowly.

  “Yeah.” His voice sounded unsure. She’d known he’d be uncomfortable here. But he’d get broken in. All in time.

  “This is your first art showing, isn’t it?” She picked up a sparkling drink being offered by a waiter? She almost took a sip—a reflex from so many years of being able to drink without thinking twice of it—but then offered it to Bo. “Look, you even get free drinks.”

  He eyed the sparkling beverage with an arched brow. “This looks like fairy piss.”

  She laughed. “And maybe it is. Come here, let’s look.” She tugged him toward the first piece, a black and white piece done mostly with paint splatters titled “The Horror”. She gazed at it a long time before turning to Bo. “What do you think?”

  He squinted at it. He was trying, at least. “I like it, but I don’t know why.”

  “Good. Very good.” She nodded, pulling him to the next piece. “And this one?”

  They stood in quiet reverence, absorbing the jagged lines that suggested either a couple turning away from each other, or the tortured lines of the artists’ mind, depending on how she looked at it.

  “Hmm.” Bo took another sip of the fairy piss. “I like them both. But this one looks like it would fit in with your studio.”

  She nodded, excitement burbling inside her. So you could teach a hardened biker dog new tricks. “I think you’re right. You’ve got an eye.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Bo cocked a grin.

  They spent some time drifting between paintings, where Dakota commented and questioned as much as she good. Bo was up for the challenge, too—after enough fairy piss and paintings, he was babbling like an old pro about the pieces. More proof to her that this life they shared could be even more amazing and dreamlike than she’d ever imagined possible. It’s time for the news.

  The next round of paintings had a sexier edge, something darkly erotic—writhing bodies, contorted faces, blatantly engorged genitalia. Visceral and primal, while somehow elegant. They looked at these pieces with raised eyebrows and secret glances.

  After they’d checked out most of the painti
ngs, Dakota drew him down a dark hallway, which led to a patio out back. Conversation grew louder as they approached the brick-lined patio, twinkle lights reaching them. She paused in the doorway, surveying the scene. Lots of finely-dressed people with angular haircuts and perfectly-applied faces. And they were just another two more of them, though on the darker end of that scale.

  “What’s down here?” Bo jerked his head toward another hallway, leading along the edge of the building. She followed him down it, peeking around the corner expectantly, like two kids trying to discover a secret passage.

  “Oooh.” It seemed mostly dark and untended, like an unused part of the studio. Bo’s warm hands crested her hips, his breath at her ear.

  “This seems like a good time for a break,” Bo whispered, his strong hands appearing under her ass cheeks. A moment later she was hoisted against the wall, his groin pressed against hers. She giggled, hooking her arms around his neck, while he ground himself against her. “You want to, here?”

  “Mmm.” He nibbled at her earlobe. “Between the ride over here and all that weird sexy shit inside, I’m dying for it.” The ridge of his cock pressed through the thin fabric of her pants, right against her clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. This was his favorite position, and she could hardly complain that the man was crazy enough about her to want it in a dark hallway in the Santa Monica gallery.

  “We should be quick,” she whispered as he fiddled with the button on his jeans. He lowered her for a moment, tugging her leggings down, then hoisted her again with ease. His hot cockhead immediately sought entrance, slipping along the folds of her pussy. She inhaled sharply, arching herself toward him.

  “All that sexy stuff turned me on,” Bo said, grunting as he lined himself up. “But you’re the sexiest part about this place.” He eased himself in slowly, a shuddery sigh escaping him. “You turn me on always, darlin’. No matter what.”

  She bit back a moan as he rocked against her, the heat of him sinking into her, mingling with the scent of him, a heady mixture of leather and outdoors.

  “I love you Bo,” she whispered, clenching around him, loving how he could always take her in just the right way, reaching just the right spot. That sensitive, furtive spot inside, a place she’d thought she’d have to bury permanently. But then Bo came along, filling her up, showing her it was okay to share the spot with someone else.

  And he would take good care of it…care of her. Something about this trip to the art gallery solidified that for her. Not only was he her hero, but he was in for the long haul at her side. To try new things that weren’t his forte. To go places with her that he wouldn’t go on his own. Tears pressed against her eyes as he thrust into her, the passion and emotion spiraling upward into a cacophony of pleasure. Her ears rang as he breathed into her ear.

  “I love you, Dakota.” His voice came out achingly tender at her ear, like the words came from the deepest part of him. “I’ll love you forever.”

  She clutched at the front of his shirt, biting back moans as he pumped her harder, faster, the quiet of their dark corner broken only by their breathy gasps and the wet slaps of skin. After a few more moments, the pace picked up, which meant he was close. And just in time—she knotted her fist in his shirt, nearly ripping it off his chest, as she came, hot rolling waves of orgasm that spread through her cells as she received every last drop of his passion.

  He slowed, breathing jagged against her neck. “Fuck.”

  “I know, babe.” She dragged her fingernails up and down the back of his neck, eyes drifting lazily shut. He knew how to make her feel good. Even in the most unlikely places.

  He breathed against her neck for a few moments, his breath coming out moist against her skin. “I want to marry you, Dakota.”

  The words hit her like a stun gun. She tensed her thighs around him, hesitant to believe she’d actually heard them. And before sharing her own news, no less. “What?”

  “I know it might be soon, but I already know.” He skipped kisses over her jawline. “I want you as my old lady.”

  Tears pressed against her throat and she buried her face in his shoulder, a muffled cry escaping her. “Yes, Bo. Fucking of course.”

  His chest heaved with a laugh and after a bit he slid her to the ground, her feet meeting the floor shakily. They pulled up their pants, smoothing everything down and back into place, grinning like idiots at each other.

  “I was worried about asking you,” Bo said in a timid voice, which was unlike him. “Thought it might be too soon.”

  “It’s not too soon, babe.” She stroked his cheek with her thumb, eyes filling with tears as she prepared herself to up the ante. “In fact, it’s just right. I had something to tell you.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “What is it?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  His lips stilled at her forehead. For a moment, all she could hear was his quiet breathing. Finally, he pulled back, searching out her gaze.

  “Are you serious?”

  She nodded, swallowing a knot of emotion. “My period is late. And I’m never late…”

  “Dakota.” His voice had transformed into something soft, reverent. “Holy shit. This is amazing.”

  A grin spread across her face. “Yeah? You think so?”

  “Of course.” He smashed his lips against hers. “We’re gonna be parents.” He laughed. “This is fucking. We’ve got so much to celebrate.”

  She giggled, wrapping her arms around his waist, cinching him tight against her. “Well let’s go out there and start celebrating. You’ll be getting drunk for the both of us for awhile.”

  As they strolled down the hall hand in hand, they grinned at each other. They pushed through the silky strips dangling in the doorway to the patio, and soft white light enveloped them in the bush-lined patio. Easy chatter filled the air and another waiter drifted by with sparkling drinks on his platter. Dakota snagged another one and handed it to Bo, lifting her eyebrows as he took a sip.

  “Well, darlin’.” Bo nudged her hip with his, hands buried in his pockets. “You shouldn’t put this off any longer. Time to find the owner.”

  She nodded, anxiety streaking through her. She’d been communicating with the owner since about two weeks ago, when they’d found out about Dakota’s private artwork through a friend of a friend. Coming here would seal the deal to get her art included in the gallery—and be the first major step to starting her art career, outside of the tattoo studio.

  “I’m just nervous,” she said, tucking hair behind her ear. “I like living in this bubble of waiting to meet her…because right now, she hasn’t told me no and crushed my dreams.” She laughed a little. “No matter how silly that sounds.”

  “There’s no way she’s gonna crush your dreams, darlin’,” Bo said, stepping closer, snagging her at the waist. “Your dreams can’t be crushed.”

  Dakota grinned up at him, bringing her fingers over his cheek. “You know exactly how to woo a lady, did you know that?”

  “Oh yeah? You’re talking about what we did in the hallway, aren’t you?” His eyes twinkled dark.

  “Sure. Though we shouldn’t tell the owner how we defiled her back hallway.” She laughed, swatting at his chest. “No, I mean you’re amazing. You are so supportive. You believe in me. And that means more than I can ever explain.”

  Tenderness seared through her and she wanted to crumble into pieces from loving him, for discovering the most unexpected truth: that this man, who seemed so unthinkably different, could end up being so unspeakably right for her. And their unborn baby.

  “How could I not, Dakota?” He brushed his thumb over her cheek, his expression growing serious. “You’re the most important person in my world. You’re the light in my underworld. And my only mission in life is to make sure that light never burns out.” He grabbed her hand, bringing his lips to the back of it. “And I’ll spend my entire life honoring that promise.”

  Tears clogged her throat and she smiled up at him. “So y
ou want to make me cry before I meet the owner?”

  “Maybe a little,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her temple. “But mostly just want to remind you how awesome you are.” He squeezed her ass cheek, eyes set on something over her shoulder. “There she is. Now go get ‘em, darlin’.”

  He pressed a kiss to her lips and then sent her on her way. Dakota floated forward toward the owner, buoyed by Bo’s confidence, floating on the power of his kiss, and more settled than she’d imagined possible by the natural way in which they’d built their own path toward forever.

  With Bo at her side, anything was possible.

  THE END

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