Iron: The Coast book 8

by Hart, Eve R.

  With my hands gripping the top of the chair on either side of her, I watched as my cock disappeared into her tight, hot pussy until I bottomed out.

  She let out a soft, satisfied sigh the moment my hips met her ass.

  She held herself still as I began to fuck her like we were in a race to see who could come first.

  “Harder,” she barked at me, her hips moving to pound back into me.

  Not gonna lie, I wanted to grab her hips and pound the shit out of her. I wanted to touch her and control how well I gave it to her. But I knew better and I feared that if I put my hands on her, this whole thing might stop. So I kept my hands right where they were, my fingers digging into the fabric so hard I swore I was going to tear it.

  Sex with Petra was intense. I never knew what I was walking into but by now, I was pretty good at picking up on her moods quickly. She always had to have the upper hand, and so far, I’d let her. I wouldn’t have said that I was desperate to get any piece of her that I could, but I was a patient enough man to take it when she called. Petra wasn’t some quick piece. She wasn’t a one-and-done kind of woman, at least that was how I felt about her. I didn’t have a clue if this thing would run its course eventually but I was hangin’ on for the ride.

  “Harder,” she gritted out through clenched teeth as I felt her nails dig into my forearm.

  If I gave it to her any harder the chair would have ended up across the room in seconds. But I couldn’t put my hands on her to keep us still.

  I clenched my ass and started pounding into her at a different angle.

  A satisfied hum fell from her mouth and I knew I’d gotten it right.

  My balls slapped against her clit and I looked down to watch my cock piston in and out of her with a vengeance.

  Her back arched and I could feel that she was close. Three more hard thrusts was all it took to have her collapsing over the chair with a silent scream. I may not have been able to see her face but I saw it clear enough in my mind because I’d witnessed it many times before.

  With a loud grunt, I planted myself deep inside of her and finally let go.

  I pulled out of her and removed the condom as I walked to the table beside the couch. Snatching up a tissue, I wrapped the condom up in the white rectangle.

  I turned around to see Petra standing, smoothing down the bottom of her dress. She then picked up my cut with one hand while holding the other out in the air, palm up.

  I got the message loud and clear.

  I placed the wad in her waiting hand as I grabbed my cut at the same time.

  “You good?” I asked, crowding her space but not daring to touch her.

  Her eyes studied mine for a long moment.

  Then her fingers were in my beard and her nose brushed against my cheek.

  Yeah, babe, love your smell all over me too.

  I smirked as the words stayed trapped in my head.

  “What do you say?” Her lips were right beside my ear now as she harshly whispered the words.

  “Thank you, Pet,” I said with a smirk even though she wouldn’t see it.

  I had no problem thanking her, but I wasn’t going to use some generic, bullshit power name. Whether she wanted to realize it or not, we had something. I couldn’t tell you what that something was, but I was determined to remind her that I was more than just some fuck-toy every chance I got. It might have seemed simple to some, but it wasn’t to her and I knew it.

  There was a look of amusement in her eyes as she pulled away from me.

  I turned my head and watched as she continued to walk away from me, heading down the darkened hall.

  “Goodnight, Mr. President,” she playfully called over her shoulder right before the darkness swallowed her whole.

  Well, with as much playfulness as a woman like Petra could manage.

  With a sigh, I snatched up my clothes and redressed.

  Then I headed back home, knowing that this night was over for me.

  Petra always drained me, in more ways than one.

  And it didn’t help that I was already beat to begin with.

  She always demanded, and I always gave.

  She demanded more, and I let her have everything I had in me.

  Then it was over and we went our separate ways.

  I didn’t hate it.

  But I knew the day would come when things would change.

  It was a good thing I was a damn patient man.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Iron

  There was a bunch of little shit that I did that not too many people knew about. It was my job to protect the club and keep the peace. That sometimes meant that I had to do a lot of checking in. This was one of those times.

  “I’m headin’ out to meet Connor,” I told Mason, my VP.

  We had gone through the weekly stuff like how the bar and garage were doing. Yeah, we ran guns but we kept the businesses legit for the most part.

  “Want me to come along?” he asked looking like he was ready to, whether I wanted him to or not.

  “No.” I shook my head. “Keepin’ this low key. Don’t think there’s anything going on. Just a friendly check-in.”

  Fergal, the leader of the Irish mob here in town, was a busy man. He didn’t like to take meetings for little shit like this. So I often dealt with Connor, which I didn’t mind. In fact, I preferred it that way.

  Connor O’Shay was not only Fergal’s unofficial successor, but he was also a local cop.

  I say unofficial because it was clear how Fergal thought of him though it hadn’t yet been said. He kept Connor close, and some might think he was Fergal’s right hand because he was usually right there beside the man ready to protect him with his life. But I’d seen some of the things that Fergal let him handle, and I’d seen that responsibility grow over the last year or two.

  Needless to say, there were new things in play for the Irish, we all could feel it, but things hadn’t been set up completely yet. Fergal was getting old and knew he needed to find someone to take his place. I was pretty sure that was going to be Connor when the day came, and Fergal’s nephew, Elliot, would end up being Connor’s right hand. Why not make the nephew the new head? It would have made sense considering he was blood and the next one in line for the job. But Elliot was young and, to put it bluntly, not mature enough. He was wet behind the ears and spent most of his time drunk and goofing off.

  I let Mason know exactly where I’d be before I hopped on my bike and headed to the coffee shop where I was meeting Connor.

  Royally Brewed was a local place that had better than okay coffee. Sure as hell tasted better than the shit I made back at the compound. And with a couple of shots of espresso added to it, I’d be good to go for a few hours.

  I got my cup and took a seat at one of the tables in the front. With my back tucked into the corner, I was sort of hidden but could still see what was going on all around me. The windows were wide and gave me a good shot of the entire street.

  It wasn’t even a few minutes later before I saw Connor’s cruiser park across the street.

  “Still on the clock?” I asked after he’d taken the seat across from me.

  “Yeah,” he replied with an angry scowl. “I got roped into a double today.”

  “Mullins still riding your ass?” I asked with a raised brow.

  Detective Mullins had a fucking chip on his shoulder. At one time, he was out for blood against me and the club, and even Connor and his people. He changed his tune real quick with us when he needed our help, though. Since then, we hadn’t really had any problems with him, but that didn’t mean he was on our side.

  Connor, however, was another story.

  “He’s still doing everything he can to irritate me. I have to watch my back all the time.” He sounded a mix of amused and irritated.

  If Mullins was a smart man, he’d back off. But he’d already proven that he wasn’t that smart. And he was damn lucky that he was still breathing.

  “Anything I need to know about?” I a
sked him but I wasn’t alarmed. I figured if there was something going on then he’d have come to me earlier.

  “No. Just a bunch of shite I gotta deal with. Nothing involving you. At least not that I know about.”

  “Good.” I took a sip of my coffee as I scanned the street outside. “You still got tension with the Italians?”

  “Yeah. But nothing we can’t handle,” he answered with a bland shrug. “Still workin’ for them but not taking on any new jobs. Think that’s what’s keeping the peace for now. Something’s going to have to change. But don’t worry yer pretty little head, we’re taking care of it.”

  He tossed me a smirk and I chuckled.

  The thing was, I kind of did have to worry about it. Not only could things blowback on the club if shit got ugly, but it was sort of the club’s fault for the tension in the first place. See, the Irish sometimes worked for the Italians. In the way that the Italians often provided protection— for a hefty price, of course. But they also weren’t ones to get their hands dirty with the little stuff, so they hired the Irish to take care of the day-to-day shakedowns. It worked before because the Irish didn’t have a very big hand in guns. Only now that we were in the picture, they did. And their take of the guns had slowly gotten bigger. I had a feeling the Irish were doing their best to stand on their own and get away from the Italian jobs altogether.

  I didn’t think that things would be simple. That said, I never meant to shake shit up like this. I wanted unity between us outlaws, something I’d been working real hard to keep.

  Just then, a car I knew pretty well pulled up behind Connor’s cruiser, the glossy black shining bright in the midday sun. You would have thought she’d have a bright red convertible, but if you knew her like I did, you’d know this fit her perfectly. The door of the Jaguar opened. A heeled foot slipped out and planted firmly on the ground a second later.

  “You alright, mate?” Connor asked and I could tell that his head moved to look in the direction that my eyes were laser-focused on.

  I grunted out an answer.

  Petra stepped out and headed in the direction of the coffee shop.

  Before she opened the door I averted my eyes.

  It was strange to see her outside of her building. It wasn’t something I’d really thought of. She’d never come to me, I’d always been the one to go when she called. With the exception of the Keften shit, I’d never seen her outside of that building. So I guessed it never really occurred to me that she would actually do things like get a cup of coffee.

  “That woman is hot but she terrifies the shite outta me,” he said lowly, his eyes still on Petra.

  “Watch it,” I growled like a dick.

  His eyes snapped to meet mine. I still hadn’t looked at Petra since she stepped inside the shop. I wasn’t trying to be an asshole. She knew I was here. Don’t ask me how I knew that shit, I just did. And since she hadn’t acknowledged the fact that I was right across the shop, she must have needed me to keep shit on the down low. I wasn’t sure if it was because she was trying to keep me a secret, or because she was thrown off by my presence here. I sure as hell would bet she didn’t expect to see me in a place like this. Just like I was shocked as fuck to see her here.

  But it made sense if you really thought about it. Getting coffee was a normal thing for a lot of people. But Petra was a puzzle I didn’t think I’d ever be able to figure out. She wasn’t normal, not by a long shot. And maybe that was what I liked about her the most.

  The confusion was clear on my face. The hurt might have been visible, too. I did my best to make my face blank but I realized a bit too late that I’d slightly let my guard down.

  “No feckin’ shite?” he said. It wasn’t really a question. And even if it was, I wasn’t going to say anything. “You must have balls of steel.”

  He chuckled. I didn’t. Though, I didn’t think he was so off base with that statement. You kind of had to when dealing with a woman like Petra Novak.

  He got to his feet, and then his knuckle rapped on the table twice.

  “Just keep yer shit coming in and we’ll handle the rest.” With that, he turned to leave.

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” I told him confidently.

  Petra walked out behind him with a huge coffee cup in her hand. Her head dipped slightly as he held the door open for her. It was a flicker of movement. If I’d blinked I would have missed it.

  But I didn’t blink and I had fucking seen it.

  She had acknowledged the Irish cop.

  I was maybe a bit jealous and a hell of a lot irritated by it. Mostly because she acted like I didn’t even exist. I sat there for a long time after she got into her car and drove off.

  Then she had the nerve to send me a text later that night.

  Come.

  I was starting to hate that damn word.

  But not enough to where I would disobey her command.

  At least not yet.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Petra

  I was sure Iron hated me after today. There was no sympathy there. I didn’t feel bad.

  Emotions were for weak people.

  I wasn’t weak.

  And even if I wanted to be, a woman like me didn’t have the luxury.

  I’d built my throne and the path that led to it. I wasn’t about to jeopardize that for anything. Especially not something as pointless as regret.

  I hadn’t expected to see him there. And I imagined that it had been the same for him.

  Did it throw me off for a split second?

  Yes.

  When it came to the rough biker that bent and gave into my needs, I was always a little bit on edge on the inside. It wasn’t something I liked. Yet, I kept calling him back to me.

  Never had I met such a strong man that got on his hands and knees for me. Just the thought made me smile to myself. To me, it took a strong man to be able to stand tall and carry big burdens. And it took an even stronger man to do all of that and still be able to bow down to a woman like me.

  I always wondered how far I could push him.

  I figured that today I might have gone too far.

  I commanded him to come and I had no idea if he’d actually show after how I treated him today.

  It was one thing to be cruel.

  It was another to be uncaring.

  And I was very aware of how I came off earlier at the coffee shop.

  In a very unlike me fashion, I sat on the couch and waited to hear the sound of the elevator. I had an idea of how I could make it up to him. Not that I’d ever use words to communicate that.

  Was something wrong with me?

  Maybe.

  Then again, I’d learned from a young age that to survive a snowstorm, you had to ice yourself through to the core.

  If that doesn’t make sense to you, then clearly you wouldn’t be able to comprehend the shit I’ve had to crawl through.

  And for that, consider yourself lucky.

  My eyes drifted closed as I counted to ten. Even if he didn’t show, I wasn’t going to let this wound me.

  The elevator settled into place on the penthouse floor. I coolly stood and waited for the doors to open.

  When they did, he stood there like a steaming bull ready to charge.

  One look at me and some of the fire left his eyes.

  That was the thing about Iron, I didn’t need to give him the words because he understood me most of the time.

  Though it didn’t show, I was a little surprised that he’d come. Then again, deep down, I knew he would even when I’d treaded him so carelessly.

  “Pet,” he ground out as he smoothly stepped off the elevator.

  “Mr. President,” I returned.

  “What do you need tonight?” he asked and there wasn’t a hurtful bite in his tone like I had expected.

  What did I need tonight?

  I hadn’t called him here because I needed something. That realization alone had me frozen in place. This wasn’t like every other time. I
hadn’t needed him to come so that I could clear my issues. Or work away the stress of the day.

  This was all wrong.

  I had boundaries that I needed to keep him in.

  “Petra?” He said my name like he had no clue what move to make.

  My gaze snapped to meet his.

  He was waiting for me to tell him something. He wouldn’t move until I did. And maybe at one point, that had been what I wanted. However, tonight suddenly felt different.

  That was the reason I completely shut down. As in, cleared my mind and switched gears. I wouldn’t let this little thing affect me.

  “Strip,” I commanded as my eyes raked over his body.

  He did so without hesitating. His movements were smooth and slow as if he wanted to draw it out.

  His ratty leather vest went first. I liked and hated that thing. I liked the smell of man and leather that wafted into my nose every time he took it off and precisely draped it over the back of the chair closest to the exit. But I also hated that I liked it so much.

  His shirt was next, tossed carelessly to the floor behind the chair. His eyes stayed on mine as he kicked out of his rugged boots and unfastened his pants at the same time. I didn’t need to look to know that he was already hard for me.

  A smile curved at the edge of my mouth as he hooked his thumbs into the band of his bottoms and dropped his jeans and boxer-briefs at the same time.

  Tonight.

  Tonight would be the night that I would give him an inch. He had earned it, after all.

  “I will give you the first choice,” I told him. “You can ask one thing of me.”

  I said nothing as I stood tall and stoic, staring him straight in the eyes.

  His gaze stayed on mine as he contemplated his answer. There had only been a flash of surprise in his eyes and then it was gone. The cool President mask was back in place before I could even really realize that I’d taken him off guard.