Forbidden Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #5

by Ames, Jessica

  Just as I’m about to scream my pleasure, he pulls out and I gasp. I’m turned on my back once more and he pinches my nipple hard enough to hurt, but the sting of pain is followed by pleasure, eliciting a groan from me. Then he’s inside me again, his hands on my breasts while he fucks me, his eyes locked on mine. The intensity of him both scares and thrills me, and I’m almost relieved when I climax this time and he comes with me.

  His hips twitch as he spills inside the condom. He moves in and out of me a few more times, his cock softening until he collapses on top of me, his nose going to my neck. Then he rolls us both to the side and more gently then I thought possible, given what he just did, he kisses me like I’m the most precious thing in his world.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  I shake my head, even though I feel sore and used. I stroke down his arms. “No. It was good.”

  His brows quirk. “Just good? Angel, I need to work on my bedroom technique if this is my feedback. Good is not what any man wants to hear after he just pulled out all the stops.” He brushes my hair back behind my ear and kisses me again.

  “It was better than good.”

  His lips twitch. “That’s getting better, but I was hoping for some more elaborate adjectives.”

  “It was tremendous?”

  “Are you asking or telling?”

  I laugh and bury my head against his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “But I give you good sex, right?” He tries to lift my head. When that doesn’t work, he tickles my side. I squeal and bat his hands away.

  “Yes, Jem! Oh my God! Yes, you give me great sex! Stop tickling me!”

  He does, but he doesn’t release me. He stares in my eyes and the look he gives me scares me half to death. There’s so much feeling there, so much promise.

  Then he says, “Don’t run from me again, angel.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Promise me.”

  I run my fingers through his hair. “I promise.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A week later, I go for a drink after work with my colleagues. I’m trying to rebuild bridges there, get my feet back under the table after such a long absence. I can’t prove anything, but I have my suspicions that Grant has my boss, Karl, keeping an eye on me. If I ask for time off again, I’m sure he’ll report back to my stepfather like a good little lapdog. It’s amazing what the threat of losing funding can do. Not that I blame Karl—or Carrie, my other boss. They built the education centre up from the ground and sunk all their time and effort into making it what it is today. It’s years of work that could be undone because of me. If I was them, I would sack me, but I think they’re scared to do that in case Grant hits back at them for that as well. They’re in the ultimate catch-twenty-two. I would quit, if I thought it would help their situation, but I’m not sure it would.

  While I can’t make amends with my bosses, I can smooth things over with my colleagues, so Friday night drinks in the Wheatsheaf, a pub about a ten-minute walk from work, seems like a good idea. Brian, who is the junior who replaced me on the ground, has been weird about stepping aside to let me reclaim my job. Clearly, he wasn’t keen on the fact he was doing my role temporarily. After a few drinks, he’s mellowed a little, but he’s been making digs all night about how he has never been handed anything on a silver plate and how his daddy never got him where he is. It’s getting on my last nerve, but since I’m trying to make reparations, I hold my tongue.

  By the time I make the short walk home, I’m on edge and drained. I understand Brian being upset, but this mess isn’t my fault. Okay, it’s sort of my fault, but why’s he being such a jerk to me? It’s not like my life is exactly roses and unicorns.

  I’m so deep in my head, I barely notice I’m nearly at the front door of my building. I certainly don’t notice, or at least pay any heed, to the hulking figure sitting off to the side of the main entrance until a familiar voice says, “Angel.”

  I snap my head in the direction it comes from, and I see Jem sitting on the low wall surrounding the building, his arms crossed over his chest, his feet at the ankles. He’s wearing his leather riding jacket sans kutte, and his bike is parked up in front of the wall, his helmet on the back of it.

  Jem makes my pulse race the moment I lay eyes on him.

  “What are you doing here?” I sound husky, my voice tinged with excitement.

  I had no idea he was coming. He never said anything when we spoke last night, nor when he last messaged at lunchtime.

  “Waiting for you. I knocked on the front door, but no one answered.”

  “Cami’s at Spencer’s, and I was having post-work drinks. You should have called. I would have come straight home.”

  I walk towards him, eager to have my hands on him, but I’m a little unsure. It’s been a week since he showed up unannounced on my doorstep, demanding answers as to why I left Kingsley without a word. A week since I last had my hands on him. Him showing up unannounced is becoming a habit I could get used to, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, where we stand in our newly found relationship status. Should I kiss him… or are we taking things slow here? What’s the etiquette for ‘seeing how things go’? I want to be in his arms, but I don’t want to presume either. Fear of rejection has me waiting for him to take the lead, but I don’t need to worry. The moment I’m in front of him, he pushes up off the wall and pulls me against his chest, his arms wrapping around my back. I go willingly, letting him crush me to him, and when he lowers his head, I move to meet him, seeking his mouth like we’re both magnets and I’m polarised to him.

  “I’ve missed you.” His eyes crawl over my face when he finally releases my lips.

  “You did?” I’m a little winded. “You saw me a week ago, and you’ve spoken to me every day since.”

  Fingers wander under my top, seeking the bare skin of my back and I shiver with delight at his touch. I’ve missed him as well, but I’m not telling him that. Treat them mean to keep them keen—isn't that the old adage? And while I’m not going to be mean to him, I do want to keep him keen.

  “Yeah, I’ve missed you.” He pulls me tighter into him. “This is the part where you tell me how you’ve yearned for me.”

  I drop my head against his chest, clinging to his jacket as I chuckle. “Is that so?”

  “I’m getting a little wounded that you’re not saying the words, Pip.”

  “Fine, I missed you too.”

  “Hmm, I’m not hearing sincerity.” He tickles my side with the ghost of a touch.

  I lift my head to meet his gaze.

  “I sincerely missed you.”

  He steals a kiss again, this time devouring my mouth with a raw passion that leaves me unable to breathe. I lean into him, feeling his hardness against me as our mouths duel for control.

  “Would you like to come inside?” I ask him.

  He gives me a lopsided smile. “Unless you want to give your neighbours a show, it might be an idea.”

  I lead him into the building and we take the lift up to the sixth floor. I expect him to jump on me as soon as we enter the loft but he doesn’t. Instead, he shrugs out of his jacket, revealing a dark blue button-up plaid shirt that fits him snug across the chest, accentuating his well-defined pectorals and broad shoulders—it’s my favourite shirt.

  I’m so busy ogling him, I don’t notice for a moment that he tosses his outdoor wear on the end of the sofa.

  Without a word, I move behind him, picking up his jacket and hang it on the coat rack standing against the wall.

  “You really are a neat freak, aren’t you?” he says around a grin.

  “No, but what’s the point of leaving them there when there’s a rack right there?”

  He’s looking at me like I’m the most adorable thing on the planet right now.

  “It’s just stuff. What’s it matter?”

  “Well… It doesn’t. I just like things to be in their place and ordered. When it’s not, I can’t concentrate. It makes everything fee
l wrong and out of control. So, everything should be in its place.”

  I chew on my lip. I didn’t mean to divulge so much, but the words started to spill and I couldn’t stop them. Now, I sound crazy. Does he think I’m crazy? Thank you, Mum, for creating this completely neurotic version of me. This is her fault. Nothing was ever allowed to be out of place at home growing up. She would lose her mind if it was. And I’m not talking about a little shouting. I’ve seen my mother absolutely meltdown over me leaving a toy in the living room before. In fact, that is one of my earliest memories. I must have been maybe three or four-years-old. The house always had to be pristine. Ordered, like a show home—it’s still like that now. It’s one of the few lessons that is emblazoned on my brain, and no matter how hard I’ve tried over the years, I can’t break that habit.

  And believe me, I’ve tried.

  In the past, even the hint of mess would cause me to fall apart, because in the back of my mind, I’d be waiting for my mother’s wrath. Cami helped me over the worst of that. I can deal with some level of clutter now, but not for long. I need order.

  Jem comes to me, rubbing his hands up my arms. “Okay, I’m sorry. No mess.”

  “I don’t mean to be hysterical.”

  “You’re not.”

  “I am a bit.”

  “Pip, I don’t give a shit. I’ll hang my fucking stuff up. No sweat.”

  He doesn’t make a fuss or a big deal about it—not like other boyfriends have in the past. I stare at him, dumbly. I’ve never experienced this, so I have no idea how to take it. He isn’t bothered by my obsessive tidiness. This has been a relationship ender before.

  “You okay with me staying tonight?” he asks.

  “I can hardly turn you away after you rode all this way, can I?”

  He grins. “You could, but I’d be pretty devastated. I’m not sure I’d get over it.”

  “I think you’d survive.”

  “I think you overestimate just how strong a person I am, angel. I’m a sensitive soul. I’ve got serious confidence issues. When you say things like that it cuts me to the bone.”

  I go to hit his bicep and he snatches my hand before it connects, lifting my knuckles to kiss them.

  “Come sit with me.”

  He leads me over to the sofa and he sinks down first, bringing me down next to him. I nestle into him, my head leaning on his shoulder, my arm snaking around his waist. For the first time in a week, I feel all my tension drain from me.

  “How are things in Kingsley?” I ask as he strokes up my arm. I’m anxious for news. “How’s Josh? He’s been a little quiet this past week or so.”

  We’ve messaged back and forth and he’s been keeping me updated about his life, mainly the management of the bar he had foisted on him just before I left town—a strip club called Lace. I don’t think he was particularly happy about this new venture. From what he told me, he previously managed one of the Club’s other bars, Venom—a trendy place in town that serves cocktails and the after-work clientele. I would probably drink there myself if I lived there permanently. But his messages have been fewer and farther between lately. I’m not sure if I’ve upset him by spurning his attempts to visit me here, but things with Grant are still so up in the air. Then again, with Jem coming here uninvited now, and Cami on alert and seemingly unfazed by Grant’s threats, maybe I should just extend the invite.

  “The bar’s keeping him busy. He had to recruit all new staff.”

  This statement, for some reason, has him smirking.

  “Is he okay? He’s been… quiet with me.”

  “He’s fine. He’s just swamped with work shit. Lace is in a bad way and he’s working around the clock to get it up and running.”

  “I hope you’re not working him too hard. He’s still recovering from his injuries.”

  Jem kisses the side of my head. “Your brother’s fine, but it’s adorable you worry about his grumpy ass.”

  “I mean it, Jem. He’s still having physio for his gunshot wound. He can’t even ride yet. Don’t you push him too much. He shouldn’t even be back at work.”

  He smiles down at me. “Babe, Wade’s a big boy. The doc signed him off for light duties—”

  “Which is not what he’s doing from the sound of it. He nearly died, Jem. I sat by his bed for weeks thinking he would.”

  With a steadying breath, he says, “The doctor cleared him, and he is only doing light duties. He needs anything heavy doing all he needs to do is pick up the phone. He’s not out on any Club runs, and we’re not pushing him to do anything that will set back his recovery. Angel, Wade’s a miserable bastard, but we love that about him and we want him out there with us riding again too. Trust that we’re taking care of him, okay?”

  “Jem—”

  “Piper, I promise.”

  I huff. “You’d better be right. I can’t deal with any more hospital visits.”

  “We’re all heading over to Lace next weekend to help him with decorating.”

  “He better not be doing any painting.”

  “Woman, quit worrying.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “You should come visit, help with the painting. Then again if you’re going to be this much of a spoilsport, maybe not.”

  I poke him in the side. “I just don’t want him to overdo it.”

  “He’s not stupid. He won’t. So, can you come?”

  “I can’t. Cami’s already pre-booked me.” I wince. “I’m sorry. Are you angry?”

  He frowns at me. “Why in the fuck would I be angry? You have a life here too. I’m disappointed I won’t see you, but no I’m not angry.”

  “It’s probably a good thing anyway. I don’t think I’d be able to keep my hands off you, which wouldn’t really help with our flying under the radar.”

  I run a hand over his abdomen, wishing his shirt wasn’t in the way and I could feel the hard planes of his stomach.

  “True, but you can’t avoid Kingsley forever either, Pip.”

  This is also true, but I’m not sure I’m quite ready yet to be in his presence and not able to touch him.

  We talk for a while about our lives. Jem fills me in about his time at university. I knew he was smart, but I had no idea just how smart. He talks to me about the fun he had. Honestly, he’s like two different people. It’s hard imagining Jem the student and Jem the MC member. I can hardly imagine him sitting in the library, his nose stuck in a book, learning, but when he talks about numbers, he has a passion that I’ve never heard from him before.

  He also talks a little about his father and his death.

  “How old were you?” I ask quietly, caressing a slither of skin I’ve managed to uncover on his side.

  “I’d just turned ten two weeks before. Lo was barely eleven, and just finding his feet in high school. It was weird that day. I just knew something was going to happen when they left.”

  The thought of him being so young, so vulnerable, and suffering such loss hits me square in the chest. I feel for all his siblings too.

  He lets out a breath.

  “Anyway, Mum had three kids under six, and me and Lo. Logan had to step up and help out. I was next to useless.”

  “You were a little kid yourself, Jem. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  “So was Logan, but he still did what was needed.”

  “You’re not like your brother. Logan is a man who thrives on leading. Don’t try to compare yourself.”

  He kisses the side of my head. “It’s a good job he does. Otherwise, we’d have been fucked. The Club stepped in, though. Helped us out a lot. Derek and Slade especially. They practically paid all our bills until Mum could get things sorted, they ran us kids to school, made sure we were taken care of. Hell, Derek even sat through some fucking Christmas concert shit Kenz was doing in school a few weeks after the accident…”

  They rallied in time of need.

  Like a family…

  I can’t recall Mum and Grant ever attending any of those typ
e of things for me when I was a child. There was always some media event or something else that took precedent. Grant was usually trying to get elected or trying to bump up his local presence. I came second to that. For all my looking down my nose at the Club, it’s clear they care about the people in it. I’m sure Jem and his sisters never felt unloved. I’m sure my brother has never either.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Jem.”

  “Yeah, me too, but these things happen. There’s no point second guessing or dwelling on the whys and what ifs. I wish it didn’t happen, that my dad was still here, but I can’t change it.”

  He rubs circles on my arm as he talks.

  “That’s why I don’t like having regrets, Pip. Life is short.”

  He’s not wrong.

  “What about you? What’s your family like? Other than Wade, I mean.”

  “Oh, you know… the usual.”

  I don’t have a lot of nice things to say about Grant or my mother, so I tell him stories about me and Cami and our antics—mostly Cami’s, since I tend to verge towards the more sensible side of things.

  I snuggle deeper against his side, feeling a little sleepy. “Jem?”

  “Yeah, angel?”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Not judging me earlier.”

  “It’s not my place to judge you.”

  “Yes, but others would, and have.”

  “Well, they’re clearly not as amazing as I am.”

  I half lean up so I can look at him. “You are amazing. You hide a lot behind jokes and humour, but that’s not all you are. Don’t think you fool me for a moment.”

  I see the crack in his walls for just a second. It’s there, before his veneer comes back up. “I’m not trying to fool you, angel. What you see is what you get with me.”

  “You say you see me, well, I see you too. Not the jokey Jem, but the real you.”

  His smile is no longer in place, but there is an unreadable look on his face. “And who exactly do you think the real me is?”