HAWK (Lords of Carnage MC)

by Daphne Loveling

  The kiss isn’t soft, or gentle, but I don’t want it to be. His lips are demanding, his relentless tongue forcing my mouth open and finding mine. A growl, deep in his throat, vibrates against my breasts as he crushes me to him, his hardness against my softness. It feels almost like the growl is coming from my own chest — like the boundaries of our bodies have collapsed. I moan into his mouth, the sound lost as he devours it. One hand reaches up and fists in my hair, and then for just a second pulls my face from his.

  “This time, if someone knocks at the door, don’t answer it,” he rasps.

  Then his mouth is back on mine. The softness of his lips and the roughness of his stubble are an electric combination. I want his mouth all over me, on every surface of my skin. In an instant, I’m burning up with desire. It’s as though every second of wanting him since we first met has collapsed into this one moment.

  When his lips leave mine to graze the soft skin of my neck, I’m panting and trying my best to stifle the cries that are threatening to rip from my throat. My vibrator had been doing overtime since I met Hawk, but Old Reliable is no substitute for the man himself — for being touched by these strong, rough hands that begin roaming over my body, setting my skin aflame. He cups my ass and pulls me against his hard length, and I let out a loud, unrestrained whimper of pleasure as my center finds what it wants. Then he’s lifting me up, my legs wrapping around his waist. He carries me down the short hallway to my bedroom like he knows just where he’s going, his lips still burning the skin of my face and neck.

  Hawk’s whole body is tense and hard with barely-contained lust, and my arms go to his muscled shoulders as I cling to him. His heart is slamming against his chest, his breathing fast and urgent in my ear. I feel impossibly tiny in his arms, completely under his control. And God, it feels so good. I don’t want to think at all. I just want him to take me. I want nothing but his body and mine doing what they’re desperate to do.

  When he gets through the doorway to my bedroom, he stops just inside and pushes me against the wall. I’m still in his arms, my core pressed up against his hard, steely length, and it feels so good against my ache that I throw my head back and groan, my hips grinding against his. I could come just like this, and if he doesn’t stop I will. I can’t help it, my body wants what it wants. But instead he picks me up again and carries me to the bed, kneeling down on it with my legs still locked around him.

  “Jesus, Samantha,” he half-whispers, half-groans. “Jesus Christ, I’ve wanted to do this for so damn long.”

  His teeth nip at the skin of my neck, making me shiver. Then his hands move underneath the fabric of my camisole. The rough callouses on his fingers graze my skin as he slides it up, then finds the clasp of my bra and undoes it. I hold my breath as he finds the tender skin of my nipples with his thumbs and begins to tease them. I gasp and cling to him, pressing my forehead into his neck.

  “Hawk,” I whisper. “Oh, God…”

  It’s impossibly good. He rolls and pinches them, just hard enough that between my legs I start to throb almost painfully. I’ve never needed relief so badly before.

  “I need to see you,” he murmurs thickly. Without hesitating, I pull my shirt up over my head and remove my bra, tossing it on the floor. The look in his eyes when he pulls back to take me in is feral, almost frightening in its intensity. I resist the urge to cover myself, because even though I’m momentarily self-conscious, the lust in his eyes is so complete that it makes me feel like a goddess.

  “Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” His eyes lock on mine. “You know that, don’t you?”

  Heat floods my face. I can’t open my mouth to respond.

  “You’re the most gorgeous fucking thing I’ve ever seen, Samantha.” His head dips to my breasts, his lips closing over one nipple. I tense and arch my back toward his mouth, crying out again. My whole body is vibrating with need as his tongue swirls over the hardening bud. He moves to the other, lapping at the areolae, and if anything it’s even more delicious. Between my legs, I can feel that I’m absolutely soaking my panties, and close to climaxing just from this as Hawk pushes me higher and higher.

  Suddenly, I’m lying back on the bed and Hawk is pulling off my jeans. Breathlessly, I raise my hips to help him. Then in a flash, he’s got his own shirt off and kicked his jeans to the side. The massive length of him springs free, pulsing and majestic. He quickly leans down, and I see the flash of a foil wrapper and hear the crinkle as he rips it open and slides a condom over himself.

  As he kneels on the bed again, I arch my head back and open for him, unable to wait another second. Wordlessly, he moves between my legs and slides his head against my slick opening. I gasp loudly, and writhe toward him. Then his cock is spreading me open, filling me, stretching me, until Hawk is all the way inside me, his hands clamped tight around my hips.

  I hear Hawk’s fast, shallow breathing as he slides himself out, and then back inside me to the hilt. The velvety heat of his skin glides against my sensitive nub, sending waves of pleasure shooting through me with each thrust. My hands clutch at anything, grabbing the sheets frantically as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. His groans reach me, seemingly far away, and I can actually feel him expand inside me as he continues to pump. We’re moving together, breathing together, so close, so close…

  “So good… Come for me, baby,” he rasps, his voice low and insistent. “Come with me.”

  That’s all it takes to push me over the edge. I scream his name and shatter, spasming around him as I come so hard it feels like I’m flying apart. Hawk thrusts once more, then twice, then empties himself deep inside me, roaring his release.

  When I finally start to recompose myself and my breathing starts to slow, I risk a joke. “I thought you said a bike ride,” I gasp.

  Hawk laughs, low and sexy in his throat. “We can do that too, if you want,” he chuckles. The last fifteen minutes or so seem to have helped him regain a little of his sense of humor.

  “I’m not sure I could hold on without falling off,” I tell him. My legs and arms are still quivering from the force of my orgasm. “Rain check?”

  For a second, he stiffens, the movement so slight I wonder if I’m imagining it. “Sure,” he says then. There’s something off about his tone. Immediately I wonder if it’s because this is just a hookup for him. I never should have said anything about there being a next time. Then I remember how tense he was looking earlier, and try to talk myself out of going down a rabbit hole I really don’t want to fall into right now.

  I just want to enjoy this moment. I don’t want to spoil it. After all, it’s not like I want anything else from him. I’m not exactly expecting him to pull out a ring and propose to me. As unbelievably earth-shattering as what just happened was, I’d be a fool to think it was anything more than just sex.

  Which shouldn’t make me feel quite as disappointed as I do.

  Hawk pulls me to him for a deep, lingering kiss, and then releases me with a groan. “I could really use a glass of water.” He swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

  “I can get you some,” I volunteer. “After all, it’s my house.”

  “Nah, stay there. I’ll find it. You want some?”

  “Yes, please,” I reply. Suddenly, I’m dying of thirst. I stretch my arms over my head with a big yawn. When he climbs out of the bed and walks out of the bedroom, all solid rippling muscles, I try not to let my jaw drop on the floor. I hear the sound of clinking glasses, then the faucet turning on and off a few times as he fills and drinks. Finally, he comes back in, a full glass in his hand. He stops at the doorway, naked and proud, and leans against the jamb, staring at me with a strange smirk on his face.

  “What?” I ask defensively.

  “That’s a good look on you,” he says, his eyes raking over my naked body.

  I’m embarrassed, but I don’t want him to know that. Instead, I try for bravado. “What, better than the sundress?” I joke. “Not sure this ensemble would be accep
table in polite company.”

  “Who said anything about polite company?” he growls, handing me the glass.

  I take a few big gulps, and screw up my courage. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I dare to say.

  Hawk grins at me and winks. “I know. I saw you staring at my magnificent ass.” He nods over at the mirror above my dresser.

  I don’t have time to be mortified, because he lays down on the bed and takes the glass from me, setting it on the nightstand. “So,” he murmurs, wiggling his eyebrows. “Ready for round two?”

  If anything, it’s better the second time than it was the first.

  “Holy shit,” I pant. “I think I’ve gotten enough cardio exercise for the entire year.”

  “You held up well,” he says, the corners of his mouth turning up in this incredibly sexy way that makes my stomach flutter every time he does it. He sinks back against the pillows and I nestle into the crook of his arm. I like Hawk like this — all relaxed and kind of sweet, almost. It’s a far cry from the cocky jackass I met at the wedding, or the sullen brooder I saw earlier today.

  All the sex has made me feel boneless, and more relaxed than I’ve felt in I don’t know how long.

  And then I screw it up.

  “So, I know you might not be able to tell me,” I venture. “But is there something bothering you?” When Hawk doesn’t immediately answer, I plunge in further. “I mean, you seemed kind of upset earlier. At the festival.”

  Hawk hasn’t moved a hair. His breathing hasn’t changed. But even so, somehow I can feel the temperature drop between us.

  “No,” he says. His tone is like a door slamming. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  I change the subject, but the damage has been done. Gone is his bantering tone from earlier, and any attempt to engage him in conversation just confirms he’s not really listening. About half an hour later, he detaches himself from me and says he needs to get going. I don’t try to stop him — what would I say? Instead, I watch in silence as he pulls on his jeans, then his shirt, and slides on his boots.

  “Hey,” he says softly, just as he’s getting ready to head out the door. “I’ll be a little busy the next couple days. But I’ll see you soon. Okay?” He leans down, and with a tenderness I would never have known he possessed, he kisses me, and strokes my jaw softly with his thumb.

  I don’t know why, but for some reason I feel like crying.

  “Okay,” I say. It comes out a little wobbly. “See you around.”

  19

  Hawk

  My head’s a fucking mess as I throttle up and turn the bike in the direction of my place.

  Ever since the first time I sparred with Samantha at Ghost’s wedding, I knew she wasn’t someone I should let myself get involved with. Shit, for so many reasons. She just had this thing about her. It went beyond looks. She wasn’t just hot — though I doubt she knows just how fucking sexy she is. She was sassy, driven, independent — she had me wanting to tease her and get her talking about herself almost as much as I wanted to fuck her.

  I know it was stupid as shit not to just walk the other way. I should never have volunteered to fix her grandma’s fucking sink, just to spend a little more time with her and maybe get her to let her guard down a little with me.

  And then I went and did it anyway.

  And now here I am.

  And goddamn if fucking her just now wasn’t about a thousand times better than I thought it would be.

  In the weeks since I first saw Sam, I’ve told myself countless times that it was precisely because I wanted her so much that I couldn’t have her. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone as much as her. Hell, I know I haven’t. The more I tried to stay away from her, the more insistently she took up residence in my head. And every time I ran into her — which was inevitable in this goddamn town — just made it worse. Until I got to the point where I didn’t care anymore. All I cared about was sinking myself inside her, and forgetting for a little while.

  Just so happened that I picked the shittiest possible time to do it. Twenty-four hours from now, she could be hearing about my death, at the hands of a rival club. It wasn’t fair to do that to her. Even though I’m not fool enough to think she’s in love with me or anything like that, it would still scare her to death to come that close to the undercurrent of violence that’s just an inevitable part of club life.

  Selfish motherfucker. You selfish goddamn motherfucker.

  I never should have let myself do this. I knew from the day I ran into her at the hardware store that she wanted me as much as I wanted her. I could see it in her eyes, in the way her breathing sped up when I got close to her. And I took advantage. I thought maybe she’d think I was less of a lowlife asshole if I did something nice for her.

  But I wasn’t doing it for her. I was doing it for myself.

  Today when I saw her at the festival, I decided to hell with it. I decided to give us what I knew we both wanted. I was looking for a release. Because I was selfish. I should have just gone looking for one of the club girls. I could have closed my eyes with one of them and pretended it was Samantha under me when I came. But the fact is, I didn’t.

  Because I didn’t want to leave this world without having Samantha Jennings in my arms one more time.

  I’ve faced death before. You don’t really get patched into an outlaw MC without accepting a certain amount of danger. And for the most part it doesn’t bother me. Nobody knows when their number’s gonna come up, but I’d sure as shit rather spend whatever time I have on this earth really living — even if it means my life’s a little shorter as a result.

  So I should have been able to resist her. I should never have been stupid enough to drag Sam into my world. Even for a little while. But the fact is, I wanted her too much for my own damn good. And especially for hers.

  And now that I’ve had her? I want her even more.

  My fucking traitor of a cock is stiffening in my jeans even now as I ride toward home, thinking about the softness of her thighs, and about how wet she was for me. We were both in too much of a hurry to take our time at it, and I’m already fantasizing about a next time, when I’ll plunge my face between her legs and tease her with my tongue until she screams my name even louder than she did today.

  No, I warn myself sternly. You aren’t doing that. You’re going to stay away from her now.

  But I know I’m lying to myself. And my dick agrees.

  Maybe Samantha will get lucky, I think to myself with a grim laugh. Maybe I won’t make it out alive tomorrow.

  And on that note, I pull up at my place, and head inside to go look for a bottle of whiskey.

  20

  Hawk

  The next day, my head is fucking pounding after spending most of my night in a bottle. I’m sober, and I’m awake, thanks to a gallon of strong coffee. But I feel like hell, and I’m in a foul-ass mood.

  When I get to the clubhouse, most of the men are already there, tensely waiting for the signal to get moving. We’re on our way to recover the guns the Iron Spiders stole from us — and to mete out some payback.

  A few of the brothers had been doing some recon to try to find out where the Spiders had secreted away the crates. We already had some idea of where the Spiders’ clubhouse was, down in a town called Circle Pines, a little more than an hour south of us. Ghost, Brick, and Beast had gone down there and done some sniffing around, and eventually discovered the Spiders’ comings and goings to an old, abandoned meat packing plant on the north edge of town.

  We take three vans, and close to twenty men, each vehicle driving different routes. I’m in the second one, with Brick, Tank, Thorn, and three other brothers. The drive down is tense and quiet, punctuated by shorts bursts of loud joking and laughter. Even with the recon done beforehand, we don’t really know what we’re getting into. Anything could be waiting for us, and we’re prepared for the worst.

  At about five minutes before the first van is due to arrive, Brick gets a text from Ghost. “We’re good to g
o,” Brick says, nodding tersely at Thorn to keep driving. “Rock’s there. Be on the lookout,” he tells us. “An ambush is always possible.”

  “Yeah,” Thorn nods, and presses on the gas. The highway we’re on doesn’t have a lot of traffic, and at the moment we’re alone on the road. A few minutes later, Brick gestures at an upcoming intersection and tells Thorn to turn right. We roll onto a potholed blacktop road, over a set of railroad tracks, and go another quarter mile before we see a cluster of buildings that must be our destination.

  The plant itself consists of several mostly brick buildings of varying sizes, connected together. There’s one large one with two tall smokestacks that looks like a generating station, and a bunch of others arranged around it, both small and large.

  Brick points to one of the buildings off to the left. “There,” he says. Just as he does, we see a rolling metal door open off to one side of it.

  “Here we go,” Tank mutters next to me. Thorn points the van toward the door and drives us through, nodding once as he recognizes our men on the inside letting us in. I exhale a little. So far, so good.

  Thorn parks the van inside the door and we get out. The only light comes from some high clerestory windows up toward the ceiling, most of which are broken out. In spite of the small amount of fresh air coming through them, I’m immediately assaulted by a foul smell, faint but nauseating.

  “Fucking stinks in here,” Tank mutters next to me.

  “That’s the stench of Spider,” jokes Thorn with a sneer.

  Brick told us this was the building they saw Spiders going into and out of while doing recon. It’s mostly a large, empty space, and looks and smells like it might have been where workers used to cut up animals when the plant was operating.

  We walk over to where Rock and Angel are standing. Rock tells us the third van’s here, and the men in it have already gotten into position as guards and lookouts. As far as Ghost and the men had been able to tell, the place isn’t guarded by Spiders twenty-four-seven, but there’s every possibility we might be watched or on security camera and have a limited time to get the guns out before the Spiders come for us.