by Jodi Linton
Normally such dirty talk didn’t set her off. And normally she wouldn’t be caught dead riding a new Sinners employee’s fingers inside a women’s bathroom. But heck, normal had gone to the wayside months ago.
A thumb tapped her chin, and automatically her eyes flew open. “Keep your eyes open. I want you to be looking at me when you come all over my hand.”
On cue, her whole body responded, and she shuddered against him. Breathy and in Cade’s complete control, Em could feel her orgasm spiral within reach. He scraped his teeth down the length of her neck as he pushed deeper, massaging his thumb at her clit, and when he gently pinched, the bundle of nerves inside her exploded. Fingers clawing at his muscled tattooed back, she tried to gain purchase by anchoring her body against the man bringing her to her knees. Shit, shit, shit. A tremble flooded through her entire core. Cade dipped his head and assaulted her mouth, devouring all her senses. Without breaking the kiss, he pushed them both up against the wall, making himself at home between her parted legs. Cade pulled at her hair, his mouth sealed possessively over hers, and Em welcomed the warm, punishing rush swirling up from her toes, through her calves, until reaching the point of friction…his fingers curled inside her.
“Cade.” She shuddered out a breath against his lips. “Please.”
He ripped his mouth off hers, fingers still firmly seated in place. “I love the way you look when I’m finger banging you.” Hot breath trailed down the side of her neck as he held her body pinned to the wall with his chest. “Let go. I need to see you come because of me.”
Pleasure shook through her from his command. Em hated not being in control, and here she was inside the bathroom of a restaurant where they’d just shared lunch together, allowing herself to feel pleasure with a complete stranger. Damn, she’d gone and allowed the man a front-row ticket to her vulnerability. Not one of her finest moments. Cheek resting on his shoulder, she rode his hand, allowing him to own her, break her, and claim her. He hooked his fingers higher and lifted her body, riding her bare ass up the wall. Her breasts bounced at his chest, and when his thumb rubbed across her clitoris, she couldn’t halt the scream coming out of her mouth fast enough. “It’s too much—”
Cade ground his arousal into her thigh and groaned into her mouth. “It’s not nearly enough, but this is all I can give.” His tongue traced the outline of her collarbone. “Sweet, sweet Em Connors. Who would have thought?”
“Stop…it feels too damn good. You feel good… Shit, what are you doing to me?” She clamped her thighs together, the force of his fingers sliding in and out so deep shook her to the core.
“Owning you…making myself feel at home.” Lust-filled eyes locked in on her. “I’m bringing the biker princess to her knees.”
Cade slid two fingers deeper, the knot in her belly tightened and she cried out, feeling completely broken, knowing if he hadn’t been holding her body up she’d have fallen to her knees. Literally. Up on her tiptoes, she shook against his wrists, shattering in front of the outlaw biker. For Cade. Heat tunneled through her system, quickening her pulse and leaving her bone tired. Before she could fall flat on her face, those same strong, tattooed arms that had been working over her body gripped her waist more firmly and helped to lower her on weak legs.
As she came down from the intense high, a steely gaze met hers. She blinked. “What about you?” The bulge straining at his zipper had to be painful.
Cade reached down and yanked her pants back up around her waist. “When I get off, it’ll be because I am buried inside of you.” Then he unlocked the single-stall bathroom door and quickly washed his hands. “Thanks for lunch, Connors.”
“There might not be a next time.”
He smiled. “I’ve gotten under your skin.”
Even though it was true, Em thought it best to play hardball. “Sure about that, Jackson?”
“One of my many charms is figuring people out, and I’ve got your number.”
Nerves bottled up inside her, firing off like a round of bullets. “Oh, Cade?” He paused, bathroom door half open. “Remember, you still work for me and that pink slip with your name on it is looking damn appealing.”
“Decided I’d be a better old man than a mechanic, huh?”
“I had a roommate once; it didn’t end pretty. And I’m really not in the market for another. Especially some guy who’d just mess up my frilly bathroom.” She breezed past him, his wide shoulders nudging into hers. His breath hitched, so Em took one last jab at the man capable at making her beg. “Be prepared to get your hands dirty, because I’m putting you to work tomorrow. And I’m not talking about working over my body. That ship has sailed. Hope you enjoyed.” Then she stepped into the hallway, the only sound of her retreat being the door slapping back into place.
Chapter Eight
And the storm brews on…
The moment Cade’s cheek pressed into the car hood, he knew the big finale to his first week posing as a mechanic at the Dirty Sinners had ended on a bang. Not that it mattered. Em wasn’t kidding that she wanted nothing more to do with him after their bathroom tango. In fact, yanking her pants down and working her tight, lithe body into a frenzy with just his fingers had been a piss-poor decision. But hell, she was insanely beautiful, and for reasons beyond his control, he was drawn to her. She called to his rebellious nature. Badly. So instead of standing back and watching those tears slide down her cheeks, he’d swooped in and demolished the pity party. Like some damn savior. Hell, he had it bad.
Each time he tried to get close to her these past few days, something always pulled them apart. She’d choose a tow run over lunch together, or make up some excuse about club business. He’d tried everything to rid his mind of her, but that girl-next-door smile haunted him nightly. Somehow this case had turned into a clearly unprofessional obsession.
Pull your shit together, Jackson.
Now he was being pulled over on bogus charges by some motherfucker who lacked finesse in the handcuffing department.
His arms were jerked behind his back by a beat cop he’d recognized as one of last year’s rookies. Self-righteous prick. With the smoke clenched between his lips, he blew out a puff, gearing up for what would come next. This whole spectacle of the good cop arresting the bad biker happened to be his own damn fault. Choosing to ignore the police chief’s persistent voicemails hadn’t played in his favor.
The cop pressed an elbow into his shoulder blades as he clamped the cuffs into place. Damn, he was going to have words with Roland when he got to the station. Cade turned his head, the lit cigarette still hanging from his bottom lip, and spat on the ground near the officer’s boots. “Is Roland too good to do his own dirty work now?”
Coffee breath drifted up into his nose. “Why not ask him yourself, Jackson?”
Cade barked out a laugh. “Don’t let those britches get too big, rookie. Word of advice, nothing lasts forever…like being the chief’s pet project.”
“I heard you were a shithead.” An elbow dug deeper into his spine. “Glad you didn’t disappoint.”
“Make this arrest believable.” He twisted his body to face the cop. “We wouldn’t want to break my cover, right?”
The officer pulled him upright by the cuffs and shuffled him toward the rear of a parked police cruiser. He placed a hand on the back of Cade’s head and opened the door to push him inside. “Chief, he’s all yours.”
When the car door slammed shut, Cade adjusted his cuffed wrists and hunched over his knees to stare at the man he’d been avoiding.
He understood Roland’s motive when it came to making the arrest as believable as possible. What he didn’t understand was why the chief of police had put out an APB on him. He would’ve checked in eventually. Maybe.
“If I’d known you missed me so much, Roland,” he gritted through clenched teeth, “I’d have gotten myself arrested sooner.”
“Always got to be a smart-ass, huh? Turn around, and remember I hold your life in my hands,” the chief said, dangling
a set of keys from his fingers. “Ready to talk? I brought some of the stale shitty coffee you love so much.”
Cade scooted to the edge of the bench seat and turned, lifting both restrained wrists toward the chief. “Be still my heart. I knew all these years you’ve had a big stiffy for me.”
The chief freed his wrists, then turned and started the ignition. “You haven’t been responding to my messages.”
He rubbed his wrists together, slowly releasing the tension from the cuffs. “Yeah, well, I don’t have anything yet.”
Moments later, Cade was holding a Styrofoam coffee cup and staring out the window, watching I-20 pass him by. When the rookie cop pulled him over, slapping him with a set of bogus drug charges, he’d welcomed the kid’s face. Maybe he even enjoyed the arrest. Because one week was all it took to allow Em Connors to become a slippery slope. Slowly, ever so slowly, she’d squeezed his control lifeless. And, in return, Cade had fallen. Hard. To the point he found himself wanting to spend time with Em, and his motives had nothing to do with the damn case he was supposedly investigating. It was time to come clean. Take it like a man and tell the chief he was beginning to enjoy the thug life a little too damn much. And yet something told him to keep whatever information he had on Em and her club members under wraps. At least for now.
Roland took a hard right down a dirt road. “You were spotted by some HPD cops at Dixie’s Diner with Connors. I thought you understood we couldn’t afford any mistakes on this case.”
That cleared the fog occupying the space inside his head. “What did you want me to say? Sorry, Em, but I’m a cop, and if we eat at Dixie’s I might get outed.”
True. Three Houston police officers had wandered inside the diner. Once he spotted them he made the rash decision to chase after Em. Not like he’d dispel such details to Roland. The less the guy knew about his affairs the better.
“Please tell me you’re not enjoying spending time with Em Connors,” the chief said, pulling the cruiser to a stop on the side of the road.
Cade grumbled, “I told you I’d get the job done, so why don’t you drop me back off at my bike and I’ll get to it.”
A grim smile shadowed the chief’s face. “I need to know what Connors knows, and I needed to know it yesterday. So cough it over.”
Cade dragged his hand over his mouth. “Ain’t got much to say.”
Liar.
Roland narrowed his eyes. “Goddamn you, Jackson. Has all that necking with our prime suspect jarred your brain cells?” He reached behind the front seat and unlatched the door, flinging it open. “I don’t trust a word coming out of your mouth, but we’ll address your insubordinate behavior another time.”
Cade gave the chief a tight smile. “Jeez, thanks, Roland.” He climbed out of the cruiser. “Like I said, Chief, these little chats of ours are so fucking pleasant.”
Roland leaned out the window as Cade slammed the door. “Heck, I really don’t want to believe that my best detective is in too deep. Prove me wrong, Jackson. Get that damn evidence, and I’ll get your good name back.”
Cade lifted an arm to cover his face from the swirling dust as the vehicle pulled away. He looked up and down the dirt road, staring at complete emptiness. Fuck the chief. It seemed that he’d be hiking back to his Harley. Grumbling, he shook off his frustration and began to walk.
First order of business: demand Em talk to him. What came after that, well, it could be anyone’s game.
But Cade wasn’t just any old guy, and he was determined to win this game.
Look at you, having a hard-on for the subject of your investigation.
From his position on the picnic bench, Cade gazed up at his biggest problem to date. Shake it off, Jackson. Unlike his normal interrogation tactics, he’d barely been able to question his witness, let alone stop staring at her body like she was his next meal. Displeasure prickled the back of his neck. When the chief had left him on the side of the road, his first thought had been to find Em, but before he could search her out she’d texted him. The Sinners were throwing a party, and she expected his ass at the club. Promptly. He hated parties. Most importantly, he hated his mark—the sexy, tempting biker babe—gaining the upper hand with the overwhelming sexual power she held over him. Maybe it was time to walk away. Shed his biker facade, because, hell, he’d already compromised himself by breaking the one code he’d sworn to uphold: not to fall for Em Connors.
He took another pull from the tequila bottle, contemplating the MC party in front of him. Since his arrival at the clubhouse, Cade had run through every lead, ruled out at least five club members, and become more suspicious of Logan Black, the VP with a damn chip on his shoulder, with each passing day. The guy’s piss-poor attitude had grown from their first introduction, and at the moment it was at a category-five hurricane level, mainly blowing his way. Cade stared across Sinners’ property, noticing the motorcycles geared up to ride positioned under the garage awning.
Damn, what the hell was he doing?
Even after the bullshit arrest, he’d be damned if he would bow to the police chief’s bullying. Roland would get his information, but on Cade’s terms. But to do that, he needed to find out just what Em knew—and she was avoiding him. He’d opted to grab a bottle of tequila before hitting up the Sinners’ compound. It was to be his peace offering to Em, in hopes of getting some more alone time with the hottest biker he’d ever run across. Now, at five in the afternoon, he found himself drinking the tequila and getting new ink. The Dirty Sinners MC, whether he liked it or not, would permanently be tattooed on his back. Shit. He’d fallen fast. A sexy biker babe and alcohol always equaled trouble. Trouble he’d gladly accepted.
Cade gritted his teeth in discomfort, tiny pinpricks igniting his left shoulder blade in a fiery inferno. Motherfucker stung. Nothing like showing up to a biker rally hosted by a club president who happened to be the woman single-handedly occupying all his naughty fantasies. He lifted the bottle of tequila to his lips and chugged. Somewhere in the distance motorcycles revved and topless girls danced about, tits bouncing happily under the moonlight. This was definitely payback for working Em over in the women’s bathroom. Still, he was a guy, and, hell, he’d take naked strippers any night over frozen dinners and pay-per-view.
Em strolled over and cast a look at Hammer. “Give us a minute, old-timer. It seems our new mechanic needs to be reminded about the law of the land.”
Hammer grunted. “Like rules mean anything around here.” The biker tossed Cade a curious look. “Watch out for this one,” he said, gaze locked on Em. “She’s known to be venomous to the opposite sex.”
Cade found himself trying to pick apart Hammer’s cryptic warning. As the old-timer busied about the cooler housing the beer, the sultry voice that’d been haunting his dreams whispered in his ear.
“Now what was that you said to me the other day?” Em purred, sending his thoughts into a tailspin. “Oh, yeah. You got under my skin, nomad.”
The tequila bottle slid low on his bottom lip as he looked up and met her hard stare. “Decided to start talking to me again, huh?”
“My life was beginning to detour toward boring town.” Red lips wrapped around a beer and cream-colored cheeks pulled into a smile. If only that was his cock. Em stepped closer, her face an expressionless mask, and then, Jesus Christ, slender, leather-clad legs straddled him, shooting a mind-blowing pain straight behind his zipper fly. “Something wrong, lover boy?” She arched an eyebrow, hips rocking in a slow seductive dance above his cock.
His free hand instinctively reached out to grab hold of her waist. “You’re the only girl still wearing clothes.”
She laughed. Long, dark curls spilled down her shoulders, brushing past that purple butterfly tattoo Cade so wished he could sample before delving deeper and discovering the way her pert little nipples would taste.
Tequila. Tits. Legs.
He couldn’t put together one goddamn cohesive thought. Let alone remember which had come first. Normally, keeping his head
straight during an undercover stint came as natural as pissing in a can, and yet this time everything had quickly become a jumbled mess. The only thing that was clear as day was the sinful image of Em lifting up off his waist.
A desperate growl ripped from his chest. Mine, mine, mine. “Hey.” His hand slipped off her waist. “Aren’t you going to stick around to see the final product of Hammer’s handiwork?”
In that moment, Cade knew how royally fucked he’d become. Earlier when he’d ridden onto Sinners’ turf, his sound advice to himself had been one drink, then dig around for promising leads. That was before he’d witnessed Em strutting out of the clubhouse office dripping in tight black leather pants and staring at him. Only him. The woman had killer curves, and his cock loved every damn inch of them. When she had strolled to his side and pressed a soft kiss at his forehead in front of her men, he’d instantly become a goner. Played. Screwed. Lost.
In an impressive short span of time she’d been able to cause Cade to question all his motherfucking motives. Presumably, watching Em Connors come on his fingers held lasting effects.
Em swept a hand across his thigh, and damn if he didn’t want to mold it over his cock. “The boys will take good care of you.” She dropped him a wink. “Remember, Hammer, this one has a two-girl limit.”
There was no way in hell he’d heard her right. Was she actually suggesting another girl in her place? After he’d brought her to the best damn non-sex orgasm ever?
It had to be the tequila talking. Why else would he be considering mauling Em in front of her men a smart idea? Tequila, right.
She had him looking crazy right now. Like he cared. “Sure you don’t want to hear a retelling of my naughty fantasies?” His arm circled her waist before she could move away, and he pulled her onto his lap, the sound of her small gasp making him hornier than before. “I promise to make it worth your time, princess.”
“It seems you enjoy tequila a little too much, Cade.” Soft lips pressed into his neck. “And the feel of my leather pants against your cock.”
