Reckless

by Franca Storm

  I light up a smoke and make my way down the alleyway leading to the parking lot at the back.

  And that’s when I see the very person I’ve just convinced myself I need to stay away from.

  Shit.

  Ax is leaning against his bike, smoking a cigarette.

  “Shouldn’t be wearing something that tight right after getting inked,” he says, gesturing to my fitted black leather jacket. That’s when I realize that my free hand is rubbing my scarred arm again. Dammit. I pull it away quickly.

  “I didn’t get a tattoo. Not yet.” Not yet? Why am I telling him this? I don’t give strangers information about me.

  He drops his smoke and stubs it out with the heel of his motorcycle boot. He pushes off his bike and approaches me with long strides that close the distance between us shockingly quickly. I jump as a flame suddenly appears in his hand between us, just inches from my face. A silver zippo. He grins, clearly amused that he just caught me off guard.

  “Your smoke’s out,” he tells me.

  I glance down at the cigarette in my mouth and, sure enough, it’s burned out. Probably because I’ve barely drawn a breath since spotting him here. Dammit, Rox. Get a grip.

  He leans in close and lights it for me. He pockets the lighter, but he doesn’t step back; an act of intimidation. His grin disappears and his eyes bore into mine as he growls, “Let you off easy yesterday. I ain’t playing today. You feel me?”

  Adrenaline spikes through me at his obvious threat, kicking my defenses into overdrive. “This city is my domain, biker boy. Black Thorns isn’t welcome here. You feel me?”

  “That attitude’s gonna get you in some deep shit, woman.”

  “Yeah? How’s that?” I ask, blowing my smoke right into his face. Bitchy, yeah, but he’s pissing me off. No one threatens me. Not even Mister-Too-Sexy-For-His-Cut biker.

  He doesn’t even flinch. “Cuz the Mavs are outta your league.”

  “Guess you’d know, being the son of their President and all.”

  I see him flinch at that. It’s just a split second reaction, but it’s enough to let me know that I got to him. His Achilles Heel.

  “You’re gonna give me the intel I want.”

  “I’m not giving you anything,” I snap, stepping back and walking to my car. “This hasn’t been fun, so don’t bother me again,” I call over my shoulder.

  He doesn’t follow me. With my peripheral vision, I see him standing there, his arms folded across his chest. What is he waiting for? Why isn’t he leaving?

  I haul open the driver’s door of my Hummer and slam it closed, extra hard for good measure. I roll down the window so I don’t suffocate myself with my own cigarette smoke and shove my keys into the ignition.

  The fuel light flashes at me, blinking a red warning. No gas? I had three quarters of a tank when I left home this morning. What the hell?

  “Car trouble?”

  I almost jump out of my skin at the sudden sound of his voice right beside me. I turn to see him leaning against my door with his elbows folded casually on the ledge of the open window. He’s smirking.

  “You did this!”

  “Did what?”

  “Siphoned my gas, asshole.” I push against my door but his weight is too much. “Move,” I snap.

  Laughing, he steps back as I climb out of the car, toss my smoke on the ground, and storm around to the side. The gas cap is open and there’s a puddle of fluid on the ground. I should’ve noticed it before, but I was too caught up in my surprise at him being here. Urgh, Rox. You need to get a grip around him. “You seriously stole my gas? Who does that?”

  “Tell me what I wanna know.”

  I scoff. He thinks he can strong-arm me here? I pull out my cell and I’m just about to dial, when he says, “Calling your partner, Ralph Taylor? Ain’t he busy on the other side of the city dealing with some contractors at that diner the Mavs messed up yesterday?”

  My fingers still. How does he know that? About the diner repairs I organized? About Ralph being my partner? Shit.

  “Reckon that’ll leave you stuck here for a good couple of hours.”

  Scowling, I tell him, “I’ll call a tow truck.”

  “You’re really gonna waste favors right now?”

  Argh! He knows too much. I deal in favors. It’s my business. Protection in exchange for favors—sometimes money as well. With the Mavs causing shit, I need to be careful. I don’t have an unlimited number of favors I can call in. And the bastard is right; I can’t waste them on personal stuff for myself.

  He steps into my personal space, looming over me threateningly. “You ready to talk now?”

  I react on instinct, thrusting my hands into his chest. He stumbles back a little, clearly surprised. He laughs; riling me up further and driving me to do it again. “You asshole!” I scream.

  His back jars against the fence behind him and I shove him again, wishing I could push him through it. But he grabs my hands this time, jerking me into him and holding me there. How dare he try to force me into submission? It inflames me further, my anger at him escalating to an uncontrollable rage.

  He leans down, his face just inches from mine. I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking away. There’s no way I’m letting him succeed in dominating me here.

  Our eyes lock as he growls, “Told you I ain’t playing nice now. This is just the start. I’ll keep coming; make your life a living hell ‘til you cooperate and let me get my fucking job done here. That what you want?”

  “You underestimate my power.”

  “Yeah?” he challenges. “How’s that, babe?”

  “I can make you disappear.”

  Something flashes in his eyes then. Admiration? Is that it? He’s impressed by how dark I took it there? If so, that’s pretty messed up.

  “Be careful who you’re threatening.”

  “No. You be—”

  “Shut it!” he hisses, cutting me off. “Just fucking shut that smart mouth of yours.”

  I move to speak.

  His mouth crushes mine.

  And that’s not the shocking part.

  My reaction is.

  My fingers delve into his hair and I tug hard as I respond to his fierce, punishing kiss. He grunts and grabs my hips. My body reacts for me and I wrap my legs around his waist. His hands cradle my ass, squeezing tightly. His tongue slides into my mouth and a whimper escapes me at the feel of it. It’s soft, slow, sensual. And intense. Incredibly intense. I have to make a conscious effort to remember to breathe. One of his hands fists in my hair and he uses it as a handle to angle me the way he wants me. His dominance and roughness sends a shiver of excitement through me. Heat pools between my legs. Every nerve ending in my body is awake now. I can’t…I can’t control it.

  He pulls back all of a sudden and lowers me to the floor, pushing me away from him. He grins and then turns from me and stalks over to his bike.

  What the hell?

  Before I can even think about doing anything, my phone buzzes in my jacket pocket. I pull it out quickly and answer, “What?”

  “Rox, we finally got eyes on JT.”

  It’s one of my guys. “He’s back at his shop?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve got this. Thanks.”

  I stow my phone back inside my pocket and look over at Ax. He’s swinging his leg over his bike. “Hey!” I call.

  His gaze snaps to mine.

  I pull my gun.

  ***

  Crazy bitch is actually pulling her gun on me. My eyes narrow as she shifts her aim to my Harley—the front tire. Hell, no.

  “You fuck up my bike and you won’t know what’s hit you.”

  “I’m the one holding the gun, asshole.”

  “Don’t give a shit. I’ll drop you on your ass so fucking fast.”

  She cocks it and approaches me slowly, one stride at a time. “Hand over the hose.”

  I smirk at her. “Yeah, want my hose, babe? Come here then.”

  She blushe
s and then tries to cover it up by screwing up her face. “Urgh. No. The hose you used to siphon my gas, dickhead.”

  “I tossed it.” The truth.

  I see her studying me, tryin’ to figure out if I’m bullshitting her.

  “Fine. Get off the bike.”

  “No.”

  She glares at me, her aim moving back to me, threatening a head shot. And then she blows out a breath of frustration and lowers her gun. I watch her flip the safety on and slide it back into the holster at her right hip.

  “Look, I might have a lead on the situation with the Mavs. The guy’s name is JT. He runs a gas station at the edge of the city. I have intel that says he’s had direct contact with some of their guys when they passed through the other day. He’s been underground since, but he’s just come up for air. I need to get there now and find out what he knows before he bolts again. But now…” she gestures angrily to her car. “Now, I can’t fucking get there.”

  I want that shit dealt with as much as her. I slap the saddle. “Get on.”

  “No, you get off.”

  This bitch is unbelievable. “You think you’re gonna ride my bike? Fuck no. Now, you wanna get there on time, you get the fuck on. If not, I’ll go without you and make this guy talk my way. Your call.”

  I grab my helmet and hold it out to her.

  She comes over and stands in front of me, hesitating.

  “Trust me, woman; this ain’t an ideal situation for me either.”

  That seems to piss her off and she bites back, “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah. You see me holding two helmets here? No. Why? I ride alone, babe. My rule. No one gets on the back of my bike. But you see a choice right now?”

  “If you hadn’t screwed with my car, this wouldn’t be happening.”

  “Yeah, well. You pissed me off. But we got bigger fish right now. And our agendas mesh.”

  She nods reluctantly and mutters, “Fine. But I’ve never ridden bitch before, so take it easy.”

  She must read the shock on my face, cuz she tells me, “Yeah, I know how to ride, biker boy.”

  She’s got me curious now. How does a woman who hates bikers so much know how to ride? I’d think she’d stay the hell away from bikes and anything to do with my way of life. Interesting.

  I push the helmet into her hands. “On. Now.”

  She glares at me for a second, not liking me bossing her. But then she puts it on, adjusting it quickly with the ease of someone who knows what they’re doing.

  She hesitates yet again with getting on the bike.

  Fuck this. I grab her waist and haul her on behind me.

  “Don’t manhandle me!” she cries, slapping my arm.

  I smile to myself and start the bike while she shifts ‘round behind me.

  “Closer,” I tell her.

  She grumbles something under her breath.

  “Rox,” I growl, losing my patience with every passing second. “Move closer and wrap your goddamn hands ‘round me. You don’t and you’re gonna fly off the bike as soon as I gun it, babe.”

  With that, she moves forward suddenly, her thighs slamming into mine hard, letting me know she’s pissed at me. Fine by me. Just fucking turning me on. And I still ain’t calmed down from that misguided kiss earlier. She shifts, tryin’ to get comfortable, grinding her sweet little pussy against me. Goddamn. Her arms snake around me then. Too high. I grab ‘em and pull ‘em down lower. It’s hard to tell with the rumble of the bike, but I swear I feel her tremble at my touch. I release her to take control of the bike and her grip loosens.

  That changes as soon as I speed outta the parking lot and she holds onto me tight. Christ, every little touch from her is making my dick even harder.

  Gonna be a long ride.

  Chapter 6

  ~Roxana~

  Oh my God.

  This is too much.

  I’ve never been on the back of some guy’s bike before. I’ve only ever ridden alone; the way I like it. Just because I’m a girl, doesn’t mean I’ve ever been comfortable with the idea of riding bitch.

  But, even though I’m now on the back of a bike, it doesn’t feel like I actually am. Not with Ax. It kinda feels like we’re one entity, molded tightly together, moving together with the bike. It’s not what I’d thought it would be like.

  It’s making everything so ridiculously confusing.

  I told him yesterday that I hated him, because he’s a biker. And then, later that night we were fucking then I was literally throwing up over the fact that he’s related to Skinner and I ended up kicking him out of my house. And just a few minutes ago, we were making out in a burst of intense passion.

  I hate his kind—everything about that life. But something about him just…gets me. Well, hatred, or no hatred, I can still call a spade a damn spade. Ax is a hot piece of ass. A killer rock hard body. All height and muscle. Intense deep blue eyes that keep drawing me in. Thick sexy bed hair that I just want to run my fingers through and tug on. He’s a formidable force to be reckoned with. He doesn’t back down. He gives everything right back to me.

  And I always like a good fight.

  Riding pressed up so tightly against his back is messing with my head. It’s actually making me feel a little lightheaded; kinda outside of myself, really. The smell of leather, his cologne and lingering cigarette smoke is more than a little alluring. The smoke thing probably wouldn’t be to a non-smoker, but I do smoke, so I’m good there.

  The vibrations from the bike are making me wish I was wearing either looser pants or thicker ones to minimize the effects. I can’t ignore it any longer, so I shift behind him, trying to find a position that doesn’t have me enduring the vibrations through every part of my pussy.

  “You all right there, babe?” he calls over his shoulder. I can feel his rumbling laugh beneath my fingers.

  “Yeah, fine!” I call back, hoping he doesn’t get the real reason why I’m uncomfortable.

  I finally give up on finding another position and rest my head against his back, blowing out a breath of frustration. Anxious and ill at ease—two feelings I’m not familiar with—I try to distract myself by cracking my knuckles. Fortunately, it’s still possible to do with my hands clasped around his waist. I’m barely aware of what I’m actually doing to him until I feel him shudder beneath me. Oops. I still my hands immediately. He turns his head slightly to the right, just enough to still be keeping an eye on the road ahead. His voice is rough and hoarse as he says, “Don’t stop.”

  I smile to myself. I’ve never been one to turn down a challenge of any kind, so I decide to mess with him, figuring there’s no way he’s gonna do what I’m about to tell him to, because he’s such a dominant alpha-male type. I lean forward and whisper in his ear, “Beg me.”

  The corner of his mouth turns up. “Please, babe.”

  What? It throws me through a loop. So, I decide the best bet is just to remain still.

  He turns his head again. “I said please,” he presses. “Hold up your end.”

  Still, I don’t react.

  “Backing down, huh?”

  Argh! I don’t back down. Ever. Screw him. I slide my hands underneath his shirt, my fingers touching his bare skin. Wow, he really is ripped. His abs are out of this world. Rock solid. Mmm…so sexy.

  The bike jerks as his concentration slips. “Fuck,” he grinds out.

  I laugh and continue feeling him up. So much for just messing with him. I can’t help it. Against everything—all the warnings running through my head—I’m turned on.

  A thrill runs through me as I realize how dangerous this actually is, distracting him like this as we’re roaring through the city streets at 60mph on his Harley. It’s reckless. And I love reckless. I thought those days were behind me; thought I’d kicked that addiction. But he’s somehow managed to bring it back out in me. And it’s invigorating.

  ***

  I remove his helmet and shake out my hair. Hanging it off one of the handlebars, I dismount slowly to find Ax
already off the bike and standing there staring at me intensely. Shit, when did that happen? I’d been in one hell of daze, I guess. Probably a little high from the ride.

  “What?” I demand, trying to get a grip.

  “Seriously? What was that, Rox?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I was bored.”

  He steps into me, closing in on my personal space. Glowering down at me, he says, “You were turned the fuck on, babe.”

  I shake my head, trying to avoid looking directly at him. I need to pull myself together first. I’m still lightheaded from the thrill of the ride. I can’t be held responsible for my actions right now.

  But he refuses to give me that time; to let me get away with it.

  He fists his hands in the lapels of my leather jacket and pulls me into him. He whispers in my ear, “Admit it. You’re soaking wet for me. You want me to fuck you right here on my bike, don’t you?”

  Oh shit. Heat radiates through me at his words. He was right the first time we fooled around; I love dirty and his words are deliciously dirty. It gets me off big time. But I’m not a naïve virgin. I know guys like him. And that’s why I can’t give in; not the way he probably thinks I’m going to. I force myself to meet his gaze. Wow, every time it’s so intense between us. Just a look. What’s up with that? I get myself together and tell him, “Make no mistake, babe. If we were gonna fuck here on your bike, I’d be the one fucking you.”

  A low rumble sounds in his throat and his eyes flash with incredible intensity. He smirks like the devil he is. “My bike, my rules.”

  I scoff and move away.

  His hand shoots out, grabbing my arm to stop me. He jerks me back to him roughly so I hit his chest. His eyes hold mine captive as he says, “So, you make no mistake. If we’re gonna fuck on my bike, we’re gonna be doing it every which way.”

  “Ax,” I protest, because this is way too intense and I’m worried I’m gonna cave. First time for everything and as unsettling as hell.

  But he’s as stubborn as I am with not backing down and he continues, “I want you riding me. I wanna bend you over and fuck you from behind. I want you sucking me off. I want your pussy on my tongue, fucking my face. I want it all.” His gaze darkens and he cups the side of my face. “You hear me, beautiful girl?”