BikersLibrarian

by Shyla Colt

  “Well…shit. When you put it like that…” Juliette sniffed, blinking to clear the water swimming on the surface of her eyes. “I think it’s time I stop being a coward before I find myself old, wrinkled and full of regrets. I need to move around the shadows of things that happened or those people will win.” She took a deep breath. “I know what I want, it’s him. Regardless of everything he brings with him. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt so alive or wanted. I think a part of me has craved feeling essential to a man’s happiness. Not because we’re having sex, or I’m bending over backward to fit some hard-to-attain image. Simply because I am me, and he adores me.”

  “I think we all want that deep down,” Hilary said. Her brow was furrowed, and a thoughtful expression lined her delicate features. “There’s no shame in that.”

  “We’re always here for you, Jul, you know that.” Evonne leaned in and she found herself in the epicenter of a much needed group hug.

  “I know. I just hate the weakness. How long will it take for me to heal?” Disgusted by her hang-ups, she shook her head. The girls had seen her at her lowest but she hated displaying it.

  “As long as it takes. One day at a time, remember?” Hil whispered.

  “Right.” Juliette took a cleansing breath. She’d come a long way from constant panic attacks.

  * * * * *

  The sound of someone rapping on her door woke her from her slumber. Juliette rolled onto her side, grabbed her phone and pressed a button to illuminate the screen. One o’clock. Grunting, she pushed back the sheets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Half asleep, she stumbled out of the room and down the dimly lit hallway. She flipped the switch on the porch light to reveal Shooter. Unlocking the door, she pulled it open and offered a sleepy smile. “Hey.”

  “Did I wake you?” He handed her a blue flower and she smiled.

  “Mhmm. The girls left around eleven. Did you borrow this from someone’s yard?”

  “Nope, found it on your doorstep. I think you got a neighbor kid with a crush.” He chuckled. He took and twirled the spiky blue flower with a brilliant yellow center around on his fingers.

  Thoughts of the blue flowers a couple weeks prior made her frown. They’d been forget me nots. Was this the same person? She ran through her neighbors with children one by one. “ I hope not, my youngest neighbor kid is probably about sixteen.”

  “Old enough to get told to back off then.”

  She giggled. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Don’t women want a man who’ll fight for them?”

  He followed her inside, locked the door behind him and walked into the kitchen and dropped the flower in the garbage. The action pleased her more than it should. He took the alpha male thing seriously. And I love every minute of it. He returned and pulled her to his body, cupping her ass. “I like the thought of you at home, warm and cozy, waiting for me.” He tasted of alcohol and him, a masculine flavor that went straight to her head like champagne. “Last night I didn’t get to see you the way I want to. Tonight I want to examine every inch of you.” Pushing her back against the wall, he licked his lips. “You wear that shirt better than I ever did. I think you should keep it.” He quirked an eyebrow. “What’s on your head?”

  “A sleep cap. It protects my hair from breakage when I sleep.”

  “That’s new,” Shooter said. His brow furrowed and he studied her with a curious expression she found adorable.

  “If you’ve never seen one of these, I’m guessing you’ve never dated a black woman.” She arched an eyebrow.

  “I haven’t dated any woman for a long time, baby. You know that.” Shadows moved forward in his eyes and he looked away. She wanted to ask him why, but one in the morning the night they’d first met didn’t seem like the right time.

  “Until me?”

  “Yes, until you.” His gruff response made her smile. He made her feel wanted. It was an addictive emotion. Why? They’d yet to go into details about their pasts, but she couldn’t demand from him what she hadn’t revealed herself. Reaching up, he found the bow that held the silk scarf and began to unwrap the length of black material.

  The gentle touch surprised her. No, not gentle—precise. It made her wonder what he’d done before he’d become a Lord. He tucked the scarf in his pocket and scooped her into his arms bridal-style. She felt downright petite.

  “Before the Lords, what did you do?” She peered up at him, watching his face harden.

  “That was random.”

  “I know. You should be used to that by now.” She shrugged. “You give me free rein to ask whatever I want. I’m going to use it.”

  He laughed. “Good point. I was in the Marine Corps for eight years.”

  “Ahhh. I’m guessing you worked with guns.”

  “Yeah, I was a specialist.”

  She saw shadows in his eyes. There was more to the story.

  Shooter inclined his head. “Bed?”

  “First door on the right, down the hallway.”

  His broad shoulders seemed to fill her doorway as they crossed the threshold. He stepped inside her private sanctuary. The dainty robin’s-egg blue and lacy curtains made him seem out of place.

  “Lots of books. It suits you.”

  A mid-sized bookshelf sat on the far side. Books were sporadically placed around the room.

  “I like that you’re smart. Stupidity is dangerous.”

  He set her on the edge of the bed and removed her shirt. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his mouth to hers. After licking his lips, she pushed inside with her tongue, teasing, thrusting and parrying. Wet and achy, she clenched her thighs together in an attempt to find relief. Shrugging off his cut, he tossed it over a chair beside her dresser and yanked his shirt over his head. He quickly unlaced his boots and toed them off. The rest of his clothes joined the others.

  “Lie back, baby.” Stretching out, her body trembled.

  Kneeling at the foot of her bed, he encircled her ankle and smiled down at the heart tattoo.

  “Is this your only ink?”

  “Yeah, the girls and I got it senior year. Our big act of rebellion.” She laughed. The sound changed in the blink of an eye when he darted out his tongue to trace the shape. The man could make anything erotic. Her stomach quivered as he worked his way up with nips and licks. Her body sank into the bed as pleasure clouded her mind. Each sweep of his tongue carried the concerns that had once seemed important further away.

  After massaging her inner thighs, he continued up to her hips and her belly. Anxiety rushed in and she tensed. The last time they had sex in his bedroom the lights were off. In her bedroom with the lights blazing he could see every extra pound.

  “Juliette?” The query in his tone hit like cold water on a hundred-degree day. She yanked away and he pinned her down.

  “What just happened? Did I do something you didn’t like?” The genuine concern in his gaze made her feel lower than dirt.

  “I got nervous that you might not like what you see.” Her voice shook, and tears flooded her eyes. She’d never wanted anyone to see her so vulnerable again, let alone this beautiful man.

  “No.” He caressed the hair back from her face. “You’re beautiful, Juliette. Don’t doubt that. I want to kill the person who made you feel this with my bare hands. Who did this?” He ground his teeth together.

  “No one important.”

  “Let me decide that.” His eyes burned with the light of indignation, turning so dark they looked black.

  “Peter.”

  “Peter who?”

  “Peter Stant.”

  His jaw ticked. “What happened?”

  “I made a poor choice for a boyfriend. I missed all the flags and I stayed too long…earning me a few souvenirs.” Her voice sounded cool and detached. But it was all she could do not to crawl out of her skin.

  “You never have to worry about that with me, okay? I promise you that. If I ever see this guy he will pay for this. Did you ever tell anyone?”<
br />
  His words were a balm to her frayed nerves. He didn’t think she was stupid or weak. There was no hint of it being her fault. Their culture had a horrible habit of making the victim feel like she was in the wrong. “Just the girls and my doctor.” He moved away and she sat up, pulling her knees to her chest as she shivered from a chill that emanated from inside her.

  “I was too embarrassed to tell anyone else. I should have known better. Things like that didn’t happen to girls like me…but it did, it did.” The long-healed wounds ached, mocking her stupidity and silence. Her stomach churned. Holding up her failings to the light and showing it to another person wasn’t her idea of fun. It brought her back to the original humiliation that came with the original admission that she was an abused woman. “I-I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “All right?” he whispered. He stroked her face with his knuckles.

  She looked into his eyes, stunned. Is this man for real? He offered comfort without condemnation and a million questions.

  “We all have secrets. I’m not going to force you to air yours until you’re ready—if you ever are.” A kindred spirit, she sensed a tragedy touching his life. It had shaped and forged him in the same way. His respect of her wishes and the careful way he handled her pulled her deeper into his web.

  His featherlight caresses on her arm loosened the knot in her belly.

  She nodded, unable to speak around her swollen throat. As far as she was concerned, this man now hung the moon. The scars on her heart faded a bit more as she fell harder. This was not a man who’d force her into sexual situations she had no interest in. He made her feel like she was enough. There would be no endless parade of women she was expected to watch fuck him.

  “Just like I showed you how good sex can be, I’ll show you what a real man is. A man who puts his hands on a woman is a coward.” An ugly sneer twisted his lips. The disgust showed his outrage on her behalf. “You’re mine now, Juliette. I take care of what’s important to me. If you ever feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable, you call me and I’ll take care of the issue.”

  There had never been a male there to protect her. Even before Peter. Now this strong, capable man was practically pledging himself to her. He removed her hands from her knees and she slid back, watching him as he, kissed her belly gently, playfully nipping and laving her skin with his tongue, as if he could baptize her in his essence and exorcise the demons of her past. His gentle care made her tear up.

  Shooter lifted his dark head. “You’re always safe with me, baby. I may yell and we might have some knock-down drag-outs because I’m a hardheaded bastard, but I’ll never put my hands on you.” He cocked his head. “Do you believe me?”

  “Yes.” Her heart bled as she gave a large chunk of trust to a man. A gift she hadn’t been sure she’d ever be able to present again. She cherished the softer side he trusted her enough to see. This wasn’t the Shooter everyone else saw. Out in the world he was guarded and gruff, an impenetrable mass of a man who intimidated others. Alone he peeled back the layers and made her feel like the only woman in the world who mattered.

  His body covered hers. She welcomed the warm weight of his lower body pressing her into the bed. He captured her breast with his mouth. Streaks of pleasure ran down her body, shifting the mood from sadness to rebirth. He ground into her, teasing her slick entrance with his cock as he stroked between her lips over and over, stimulating her clit.

  Their bodies moved together in a silent dance and she greedily drank in all he had to offer. A few more thrusts and she came undone beneath him. Flashes of white detonated behind her eyes. Her body convulsed as she transcended pleasure. This dangerous man had put a measure of healing on her no amount of medicine or psychiatrists had been able to accomplish.

  Grunting, he moved his head up and buried his face in her neck. “I want to be inside you so bad it hurts, baby. Are you on birth control?”

  “No.” Her voice shook.

  “I’m clean. I can show you my papers. I want to get you on birth control so I can come inside you.”

  The idea sent a thrill through her. It awakened something primal in her, knowing he wanted to claim her so desperately.

  He smiled. “You like that?”

  “Yes. I’m clean too.”

  “I figured as much, baby girl.” The endearment wrapped around her and bound them as surely as a rope. They were sharing something tangible she couldn’t name. A meeting of tattered souls brought together by fate. “I’m close, baby. Can I come on you? Rub my seed over your skin and pretend it’s inside that tight pussy of yours?”

  “Oh yes.”

  The room went silent except for his ragged breathing. The cords of muscles in his neck and arms strained. A low moan filled the room and he pulled out, painting her belly and chest white. The sticky, hot liquid banished the lingering chill. Whatever existed between them wouldn’t be ignored or pushed aside.

  Chapter Eight

  Juliette glanced at herself in the mirror and scowled. What the hell did you wear to a party at a M.C. Club? Shooter assured her whatever was comfortable would be good but she didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb. This would be her first official showing as his old lady. It made her feel like a prize pony in a contest. In the end, she opted for a pair of dark skinny jeans and a flowing black tank top with silver straps. She’d exchanged heels for a pair of black combat boots she’d bought the first week she and Shooter had been together.

  Things had been going well for them. What if they didn’t like her? What if she offended someone? Her stomach tightened, like a shirt shrinking after being submerged in cold water. After fluffing the hair she’d wrapped in curling rods the night before, she placed her hands on her hips.

  “This is as good as it’s going to get, Moore.” Sticking her tongue out, she laughed at her silliness. Being with Shooter brought out her playful side. He made life seem a lot more exciting and carefree. It was hard to be a bundle of nerves when the person you were with avoided stress like the plague. His unique take on the world made for interesting conversations.

  The familiar rumble of his motorcycle vibrated the air and she grinned. Grabbing her black purse, she hurried out of the room to the front door and opened it. Eager to meet the men he considered family and see how Shooter lived, her body tingled.

  “Hi.” She pushed forward on the balls of her feet, and he grinned, giving her a slow once-over.

  “I think that’s some sort of record.”

  “You never have to wait on me.”

  “No, but I don’t think you’ve ever met me in the driveway.”

  “I missed you?”

  “Yeah, it’s been a long five hours.”

  “Shut up, Shooter.”

  His deep chuckle made her stomach flutter. The intensity between them never faded. One look and her panties were drenched. So much that she’d started stashing extra pairs in handy places.

  The look on Joey’s face when Juliette had shoved a pair of thong underwear in the inner pocket of her purse and zipped it shut had been priceless. After her quick explanation of what she’d done, Joey had whispered, “I have to get me one of those.” It still made Juliette smirk.

  Shooter handed her the black helmet he’d had customized with an Old English J in white. Placing it on her head, he tightened the chinstrap, and she climbed behind him like a pro. She’d come to enjoy riding bitch.

  “Anything I need to know before we get there?” she asked.

  “Same as usual—any problems, let me know. I’m going to introduce you to some old ladies. They’ll look out for you. I think you’ll like Prez’s old lady, Boston. She’s a firecracker but fair and down to earth unless you rile her up. Which I can’t see you doing.”

  “Thanks?” she queried. He laughed and faced forward. Clutching his waist, she leaned in against his back as he pulled out of the driveway and onto the road. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the wind in her face as it blew her hair out behind her.

  With Shooter,
the normal things didn’t apply. He liked her dressed up the same way he did dressed down, just out of bed, sweaty from the gym. When there was no need to put on airs or live through the pretend-to–be-perfect phase most couples did, you got to the heart of things in a direct manner.

  They pulled up to the gated facility and her mouth became a desert. The scantily clad women entering the building ahead of her made her swallow hard. Someone ran down to open the gate and Shooter pulled in, parking his bike a few yards down from the others. Once the kickstand was lowered, he moved off and offered his hand. She took it and pursed her lips.

  “Don’t be nervous, baby. They’ve been looking forward to meeting the woman who tamed me.”

  She snorted. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “That’s because you’re smart.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and guided her into the large warehouse-like building. Loud rock and roll spilled from the inside as they approached the entryway. Shooter opened the door and she preceded him inside.

  Bodies filled every available space. Pool tables lined the far back corner of the large room and a bar took up one wall. Her gaze darted around as she attempted to take it all in. Men clad in everything from leather pants to worn denim in familiar, black vests with the Lords emblem on it filled the space. Women in booty shorts, tiny skirts and suggestive dresses hung on their arms, against the bar and lounged on couches.

  A glance down at her outfit made her want to go back and rethink her choice. Shooter hugged her to him.

  “I’m going to introduce you to a few people.”

  Nodding, she leaned into him, trying to avoid bumping others in the crowded area. Imaginary daggers pricked her as women narrowed their eyes and followed her progression. Were these all women Shooter had slept with?

  Her stomach ached. She couldn’t measure up to these twiggy frames. Sweeping the crowd again, she noted the absence of African Americans. There was a vest-less man in the back and a sizeable number of brown-skinned men and women she thought might be of Spanish decent.