by Kati Wilde
If he’s a cop, and he knows where the Cage is but he’s not giving up the location? Then he’s a real dirty cop.
And if he’s just an informant, those favors might be going both ways. Like someone in the FBI telling him when to look sharp and when to cover and run. The prez told me there was a leak somewhere. That’s why Blowback’s source was playing this tight to his chest.
So I’ll pass that info to Blowback. He might be able to squeeze something out of the bastard, because it doesn’t look like I’ll be touching him.
I’ve got someone else to focus on. I look to Chef. “Does Strawman know about Paladin?”
Adam shrugs. “Don’t know. And I’m not going to share.”
Like fucking little boys. Not brothers.
I sit back and shake my goddamn head.
30
Anna
Gunner gets back late. He sent me a text around midnight, telling me they were still a few hours out. So I went to bed and tried to sleep but just lay there, thinking I should just give up and grab one of his books or turn on the TV, but then telling myself that if I give it a few more minutes I’ll fall asleep.
But a few more minutes turns into three hours, and I’m still lying awake when I hear the soft knock at the door.
Because he’s got a keycard, but after Strawman got in simply by asking for a card at the front desk, we’ve been using the security latch.
Lightly I run to the door, praying he got the info he needed. One look at his expression tells me he didn’t.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Strain and exhaustion shadow his face. “Strawman couldn’t pull anything out of the fucker. Nothing about the Cage, nothing about the fighters.”
And he must be really tired if he’s telling me that—giving me details instead of vague bits of info. But although my heart drops, I don’t show it. Just draw him into the room.
“It’s okay,” I say. “We’ll still find another way.”
His nod is barely a dip of his chin. And by now he’d usually wrap me up in his arms, even if he is tired, even if we are heading straight to bed—to sleep. Instead he’s pulling away, dragging his hands through his hair.
“I need to head down to the gym. Get a workout in.”
Really? He works out like it’s a religion. Stone does, too. But this is the kind of day they’d usually sin and be well forgiven for it.
I glance at the clock. “I’m pretty sure the weight room closes at midnight.”
“A run, then.” He tosses his kutte onto the luggage rack. His Hellfire Riders’ kutte, he’d have hung up. His T-shirt’s next. “I got to get this shit out of me.”
“What shit? Gunner”—I stop him with a hand to his arm. “If you need to work something out of your system…I’m right here.”
His pale eyes flare before he closes them. “I’m fucking filthy right now, Anna. Seeing that fucker who hurt you. Watching him laugh and drink and knowing he told his brothers what he did. Knowing he showed them that recording he made. Knowing all that, seeing him right there, and not being able to—”
His hands clench so tight there’s no doubt what he needed to do. And how he’s feeling like a failure now. For not taking out Chef. Because they didn’t learn anything new about Stone.
But he’s blaming himself for a whole lot of shit that isn’t his fault.
Slowly I sink to my knees. “Gunner.”
I wait until he looks down at me—his powerful body going utterly still, his expression stark with sudden need.
“My lip’s better,” I tell him. “You won’t be too big for me now.”
“Anna.” My name is a feral growl through lips whitened by tension. “Unbuckle me, then.”
Eagerly my hands go to his belt. Oh god. I’ve been waiting for this.
And Gunner started out behind me but he’s catching up fast. His cock is already hardening. With my cupped palm, I rub him through heavy denim as I work his belt free with my opposite hand.
Roughly he says, “You look hungry for my cock, sweetheart.”
Oh shit. Just his voice and I’m clenching my thighs together, holding back a moan. Through my lashes, I glance up at him. I’m not sure which is hotter—the burn of his pale eyes, the thick length of him, or every damn word he says. Maybe it’s good he never talked to me at the bar or my house before. I’d have spent the past ten years as a quivering, walking orgasm.
Which, okay. Doesn’t sound too bad.
His breath hisses through his teeth as I slowly lower his zipper. “Jesus, Anna. I’ve dreamed of this.”
So have I. Though I never had any idea he was so thick, or that he’d fill my hands like he is. And sometimes I’d fantasize that I’d do this and just overwhelm all of his defenses with sheer need, until he was putty in my hands. And other times I pictured him losing control, needing me, dominating me, forcing me to swallow as much of his cock as I could. But always one of us taking, the other giving.
But it’s already both. Already giving pleasure with my hands. Gunner already telling me, “You want to taste that precum, baby? You want to lick it right off me?” as if he knows just how each word pulses through my inner core on a hot erotic beat. And I take a taste for me, and for him, and it’s giving and taking and it’s so much better than anything I ever dreamed.
“Ah fuck,” he groans from low in his chest. “I’m not going to fucking last.”
That’s what he always says. But he always does. So I take my time, licking up that broad shaft. Tracing the heavy veins with my tongue, stroking the wet path with my hand.
“You want to suck on me now, Anna?”
Oh god. “Yes.” It’s a low moan against the wide tip of him just before I open my mouth and take as much as I can. It’s not as deep as I want, he’s just too thick, but Gunner groans, his abs clenching as he hunches over, his hand in my hair and holding the long strands away from my face.
Watching me suck his cock.
“You like the way I taste?” It’s low and rough, then abruptly he adds—“Fuck no, don’t answer that, sweetheart, because you’ll have to stop.”
And I have to stop anyway because laughing chokes me a little, and he’s grinning when I’m done coughing and he guides my mouth back to his cock.
“All right?”
My answer is to take him as deep as I can again, loving his groan and the way he thrusts his hips a little before his body tenses again, as if he needs to fuck my mouth and is barely controlling himself.
“Christ.” He’s staring down at me, arousal etched starkly on every line of his body. “This is better than I ever fucking dreamed. The only thing better is licking your pussy. God, I love sucking on your sweet clit and getting you so damn wet before sliding up inside you. But now I’d get up inside you then have you on your knees again, so you could taste yourself all over my cock. Would you want that, sweetheart?”
I groan around his shaft.
“Fuck yeah. But it’s a real bad plan. Because once I get into your pussy I’m not coming out again.” Laughing, groaning, he tightens his hand on my hair. “And the next time I’m in you, Jesus—baby, this is how it’s going to be. I’m going to have you on your knees, your ass up high. And you’ll be screaming into the pillow because I’m going to get so fucking deep.”
Oh god. Like he was last time. Desperately I suck harder, my fingers sliding between my legs.
“You just let me know when, sweetheart. You let me know and I’ll stuff your sweet pussy full of my thick cock. Or just keep doing this. Just give me a sign and I’ll fuck your throat so deep. You want to drink my cum— Oh fuck, no.”
Abruptly he’s hauling me up against him, his fingers snagging my wrist. Deliberately he brings my hand to his mouth.
My knees almost give out when he sucks the arousal from my wet fingers, one at a time.
“This”—my index finger—“is”—middle finger—“my”—ring finger—“job.” And finishing with a long slow lick down my pinky.
I grin at him. “I’m capable of multi-tasking. P
lus, I’m good at it.”
“At fingering yourself?” Hands on my hips, he starts walking me back toward the bed. “Why?”
“I did a lot of it in the past ten years.”
“Thinking of me?” He’s wearing a teasing grin—teasing, because he’s playing. He has no idea. “Imagining me fucking you while you rubbed your pretty clit?”
“Yes,” I tell him and watch his face darken.
And I don’t know why. Don’t know why there’s the sudden storm in his eyes. But it’s there and he’s claiming my mouth, kissing me hard, harder, before suddenly whipping me around and pushing me onto the bed.
Just like he said. My ass in the air and—
I scream into the pillow when he roughly fills my pussy, so thick, so deep.
So good.
Fingers digging into my hips, he fucks me hard, our skin slapping wetly with every brutal thrust. “Is this better, Anna? Better filled with my cock? Better than alone?”
“Yes.” It’s a wild moan. “Yes.”
“God, it is. Now are you going to come for me? My cock’s digging so deep. I want to feel your pussy clamp right down on me, sweetheart. Then I’m going to fuck your mouth, with your sweet pussy juice all over my dick, smearing all over your lips.”
Oh my god. His cock slams deep again and I come, not screaming into the pillow but biting it, moaning as my pussy clenches around him again and again, his thick cock stretching me so tight.
I’m huffing against the sheets when he slides out of me. Ready to taste us both on his cock, I turn toward him, but he just pushes me onto my back and spreads my legs wide.
I cry out as his cock slides into me again. Arms braced beside me, Gunner groans as my pussy envelops his thick length.
“I lied, sweetheart,” he says and his voice is like gravel. “I just said that to get you off.”
My laughter is just soft and brief because he’s moving inside me and I’m so sensitive and already can’t get enough again.
“Because your pussy, Anna”—he kisses me long and deep, his tongue stroking into me with the slow ride of his cock—“your pussy, after you come… Christ, you’re always so wet and tight but after you come your pussy’s even wetter and tighter. Like it needs to come again.”
I groan when he grinds deep inside me, arching up against him. “I do need to come again.”
“You’ve got a greedy pussy, sweetheart. You know what a greedy pussy gets?”
I meet his eyes, my hands sliding through his hair. “It gets you.”
“That’s right. My big thick cock to fill it. And more.”
Slowly he sits back, but doesn’t take me with him. Instead he grips my hips and hoists my lower body up, my shoulders against the bed, his cock still deep inside me—and his eyes all over me, my hair spread over the pillow, my nipples so tight, my entire body laid out before him.
“Now play with your sweet clit, Anna,” he commands, his voice low and harsh. Holding my hips immobile, he slides back and then deep inside me again. “Play with it just like you used to, when you were alone.”
Oh god. I do, reaching up. I’m so wet and I can feel him sliding past my fingertips, pushing deep inside me on every stroke.
“But you’ll never be alone again.” Gaze locked on mine, he fucks me harder, harder, and my fingers work faster, faster. “Never alone again.”
Never alone. On a shuddering gasp, I come hard, my body tensing and my clit convulsing beneath my fingers. I have to stop rubbing, it’s too much sensation, but he doesn’t stop fucking me, groaning as he rocks forward again, his mouth claiming mine for a long endless kiss until he’s coming, and I moan as my pussy clenches with every hot pulse of cum his thick cock releases deep inside me.
Breathing harshly against my hair, he rolls over and brings me with him. Quietly I cling to him, savoring the feel of his sweat-slicked skin, his thickness inside me. I’m almost asleep when I feel the sweep of his hand down my back.
His fingers come to rest at the base of my spine. “You have paint on your hands. Did you work on the landscape today?”
“A little.”
“Any problems?”
On the farm. “No. I talked some with Grace.”
He stiffens. “You okay?”
“Oh. Yes. That wasn’t— She’s not at all interested in you.”
“Good. Easier that way.”
“Yeah. She says Shari’s not happy.”
“Muncher’s bride?”
“Yes.”
“Are you surprised?”
I smile against his neck, shaking my head. “No. But Grace is a little scared of what might happen if Shari says she wants to leave.”
“Did you give her Saxon’s info?”
Throat suddenly burning, I hold him so tight. “I was afraid you might be a little pissed—giving a woman advice about how to leave your brother.”
“Shit, Anna.” His chuckle is low and deep. “I ran away from the farm, too. I’d be giving bus tickets away to every woman there, if I could.”
I huff out a silent little laugh.
“You ran away, too,” he says.
I lift my head to look at him. “When?”
“All over the world.”
“Maybe. I didn’t really look at it like that.” But I guess it might be considered running away from the future that was coming for me—which I was certain would be sickness and death.
“Then you stopped.” His callused thumb brushes over my lower lip. “You stopped and went home. Why?”
“Money, partially. Mom and Dad helped me out with a lot of the traveling expenses to begin with. Then I didn’t want them to spend so much—so I’d come back, work tables and save up, go again. But I didn’t think of it as running away. I was just…trying to live. You know. To see so much and cram life in.”
He nods, his gaze searching my face. Waiting for me to go on.
“But I was going all these places, and none of them were mine. I had Anna was here on a million pictures, but me being there was just transient. And everything I cared about most was back home. My family, Jenny. So I went back to stay. And I realized that I didn’t need to make a wide mark all over the world—I could just make a deep one in a single spot. And when Stone and I bought that house, it seemed like the perfect way to really make something mine. To put myself all over it. Except for his rooms. And, you know, wherever Daisy makes a mess. That’s all his.”
A quick grin flashes over his perfect mouth. And I can’t resist—I lean in for a kiss.
God, I love being here with Gunner like this. I’d stay in this hotel forever, if I could.
I fold my forearms on his broad chest, prop my chin on my rolled fists. “Anyway. I guess Stone’s the opposite, isn’t he? He doesn’t care what I claim. Because that house, I couldn’t wait to get my name on it. But even a house, he didn’t want that. He really doesn’t like leaving a trail, does he?”
“No, he doesn’t.” He watches me with an unreadable expression. “Partially to protect you.”
“What?”
“There’s always danger of someone like him making enemies. If there’s no paper trail, it’s not so easy to trace back to where he lives. Someone can ask around in town, right? But nothing he leaves anywhere would direct them to you. And if anyone asks the Riders, they’ll be pointed toward the clubhouse. He doesn’t bring girls to the house. And he lives with you, so if you have any trouble at the Den, there’s someone looking out for you at home.”
I stare at him. Some of that was obvious—like Stone not wanting any enemies to find him. But protecting me? “You’re serious.”
He gives a solemn nod.
I laugh a little, because it does sound exactly like Stone. Then I quiet because I realize, “The Iron Blood found me really quickly.”
“Yeah, they did.” A frown pulls his dark brows together. “Though maybe that was easier. They were looking for you, not Stone.”
“And they could find me in public records?”
“Yeah.”
That comes out like an agreement, but his frown is deepening, and he’s sitting up.
I slide off his chest, kneeling on the bed beside him. “Gunner?”
“Just thinking.” Staring across the room at nothing, his hand absently stroking my back. “Just thinking about bad arguments. And how they found you so quick. How they knew to even look for a sister. Because Stone would have never given them that. Not your name, not nothing. Not even to Cherry, if she’d been fishing for info. He was always careful. Especially with you.”
Dread prickles my naked skin. “And what you’re thinking isn’t good, is it?”
“No, sweetheart. Not good at all,” he says roughly and when he meets my eyes, the pain there is a razor across my heart. “I’m thinking you need to tell me everything else you’ve heard while you’ve been around my family.”
31
Gunner
The sun is low in the sky when I reach the farm. I wonder if this is how David felt, riding up to Mama’s house that last day—thinking about how your own family hurt the person you love more than any other. Seeing her face bruised and mouth bleeding. Seeing her fear for her brother, and knowing he’s going through fucking hell, and that’s on your family, too.
Every second, hoping you’re wrong. Every second, knowing you’re not.
And all the while filled with a hurt and rage so fucking deep, it’d be easy to pick up an ax. It’d be easy to swing it.
But today I’m swinging something a hell of a lot stronger.
Three dozen Hellfire Riders roll in behind me, led by Thorne. Three dozen Riders at my back, even though I’m wearing a kutte boasting the wrong damn colors. Three dozen Riders, sent without hesitation after a single call to the prez early this morning.
The only delay was the miles between us.
Mama’s out on the porch when we ride up the east hill, frowning and shading her eyes against the sun as she watches us come. Maybe preparing to rip the skin off Adam’s ass for bringing the Few to this side of the farm before realizing she’s looking at a different club. Then her gaze settles on me, and she waits quietly as I cut my engine, walk up to meet her.
There’s relief in her eyes when her gaze flicks down to my kutte, but her smile is tight. “Friends of yours?”
