Down & Dirty: Hawk (Dirty Angels MC Book 3)

by Jeanne St. James

  “Thanks.” Kiki grabbed the drink and downed it in one swallow.

  “Damn. Didn’t make a face or even cough,” Crash said, seemingly impressed.

  “I’m good at mixing drinks, anytime you want something other than whiskey neat, just ask.”

  Kiki placed the glass on the bar carefully and nodded at Bella as the warmth of the whiskey slid into her belly. Her eyes slid to Hawk as the hand at her back slipped down over her ass and squeezed.

  That reminded her...

  She leaned into Hawk’s broad chest and put her lips to his ear. “We need to head back to your house.”

  His fingers flexed over her ass again and his warm breath swept over her cheek. “Not that I’m complainin’ but... why?”

  “I need you to fuck me against a wall in front of a full-length mirror. Do you have one of those?”

  “Think Jazz got a long mirror. Should I ask why again?”

  “No.” She yanked on his arm. “Can we go now?”

  Hawk’s eyes narrowed on her, his gaze lifted to over her shoulder, then a knowing look came over his face. “Take it that the bathroom was occupied.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He nodded, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “His ass is legend ‘round here. But we’re brothers, babe. Built the same.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  He jerked his chin up, smiling. “Got you. Let’s go.”

  She took a last glance at Bella. The other woman was staring down at something behind the bar and wiping at whatever it was really hard with a towel. Kiki didn’t miss the huge smile Bella wore.

  Kiki stepped out from in between his legs and he followed after quickly downing the rest of his beer. As they made their way through the common area to the back door, she looked up at him and said, “By the way, the next time you crook your finger at me, you better only be wearing your tattoos.” She let him get a stride ahead then she slapped his ass hard.

  He threw his head back and boomed with laughter.

  Hawk climbed the steps to his bedroom. His ass was dragging after a long, busy, typical Saturday night at the bar. It was bad enough when he had to break up two drunken fights and barely missed getting clocked in the head, but then he had to throw out a group of underage college kids with fake IDs. And, of course, they acted offended and entitled when they demanded he should let them drink. Right.

  He wanted his lawyer beneath him squirming, not beside him at a defense table in a courtroom.

  At least he had something to look forward to. He couldn’t miss Kiki’s fancy red Vette parked in his driveway when he parked his sled in the garage. Jazz must have let her into the house again.

  As he reached the second floor, his gaze fell on the bed. This was not the first time that he’d come home in the early hours of the morning to find her curled up asleep under his sheets.

  It shocked the shit out of him. He never expected her to be the one to keep showing up in an effort to continue whatever was going on between them.

  Which, he wasn’t quite sure what it was besides her just showing up to take part in the awesome sex they had.

  Problem was, he was getting used to her being in his bed. But he knew it wasn’t going to last. They were just too different, their lives completely opposite.

  It didn’t go unnoticed that she hadn’t asked him over to her condo in Pittsburgh. It was probably in some fancy high-rise building with a door man and filled with rich, nosey neighbors. She wouldn’t want to be embarrassed by taking someone like him up to her place.

  She wouldn’t want to be caught lowering herself to his level.

  What-fucking-ever.

  As long as she kept showing up at his front door, he wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to stick his dick in her.

  And if he was busy doing that, then that pretty much guaranteed that no one else was.

  Fuck.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and began to unbuckle his boots. He set them to the side quietly, yanked off his socks, wiggled his toes, then peered over his shoulder.

  She was sound asleep, her long dark hair draped over one of his pillows. Her face was turned toward him, her eyes shut, her breathing steady, her lips parted just slightly.

  Fuck me.

  She was mind-blowingly beautiful and no matter how tired he felt she always gave him an instant hard-on. He glanced over at the full-length, free-standing mirror he hadn’t bothered to give back to Jazz yet.

  They had come home the other night and he did what she had demanded by fucking her against the wall with the mirror behind them so she could watch his ass as he pumped hard and fast into her.

  She had come three times back to back. He grinned. And she confirmed his ass was as nice as his brother’s, so there was that.

  He pushed to his feet, the exhaustion really sinking into his bones now as he tugged off his cut and threw it over the nearby chair, yanked his shirt over his head and unbuckled his belt. He headed into the bathroom, started the shower and dropped his jeans to the floor.

  Before stepping into the glass shower stall, he stopped in front of the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. He brushed his palm over his short mohawk and then studied the black tribal tats on the sides of his scalp.

  He would never fit in with her type. He frowned at his reflection. Why would he even want to?

  A little bit of pussy shouldn’t be making him question himself or his life. He had a good one full of family, brotherhood and loyalty. He’d never wanted anything else. Never dreamed about anything else, either.

  His pop was a biker; his granddad was a biker. It was in his blood. It was only natural he was a biker. He grew up in the club. He was vice president, for fuck’s sake.

  And if Zak didn’t take the presidency back from Pierce soon, Hawk might go for it himself. They should be proud of how far this club had come. Now with this fundraiser, they would be once again giving back to the community, giving back to the veterans who deserved it.

  This was why their club was so engrained in Shadow Valley. No one, other than the Shadow Warriors, had ever tried to push them out. Not even the cops. Yeah, they sometimes had some run-ins with 5-0. Sometimes they deserved it, sometimes they didn’t. But for the most part, the cops left them alone. DAMC ran legit businesses and they were successful ones, too. The townspeople never hesitated to use their services. Even the strip club.

  Just a couple months shy of thirty-five, his life pretty much felt complete. The only thing missing was a good woman. And maybe some kids, eventually. Though, he had plenty of time for that. He was in no rush to be tied down with rug rats.

  He wasn’t sure if the woman asleep in his bed was even the motherly type. She seemed to be focused on her career, not on getting a ring on her finger and a baby in her belly. She didn’t need a man to support her, either.

  Since the mirror had fogged up, he could no longer see himself. He needed to stop thinking such heavy thoughts, get cleaned up and climb into bed with his woman.

  He grinned. He liked thinking of her in that manner, even if it was only temporary.

  He pushed away from the sink and let the hot water soothe his thoughts and his tired muscles.

  Chapter Nine

  He was having the best dream ever. A hot, wet mouth wrapped tightly around his dick, sucking him as hard as a Hoover vacuum. His hips rose off the bed and he dug his fingers into the mattress.

  Damn. He couldn’t come, he’d mess up his sheets.

  Fingers wrapped firmly around the root and pumped him as a tongue lapped at the tip. Then soft lips encased the head, capturing the precum that kept escaping the end.

  Fuck.

  He didn’t want to wake up because he didn’t want it to end.

  Nails scraped over his balls and he grunted. He couldn’t believe how realistic this dream was.

  Then, somehow the dream took a turn and a slim finger was up his ass, stroking his prostate. He bellowed—and it wasn’t in protest—as his eyes popped ope
n and he came hard, his dick throbbing intensely and his cum spurting endlessly down her throat.

  At last, his body relaxed, melting into the mattress, and he looked down at the woman who had swallowed every drop of him. The woman who had a finger up his ass.

  What. The. Fuck!

  Kiki smiled up at him around his cock. He didn’t return it.

  “Spent ten days in jail recently an’ no one got near my ass. Then wake up to you violatin’ me.”

  She rubbed the shiny, wet crown of his dick along her grinning lips. For fuck’s sake, he had to admit that was hot and if he hadn’t just blown his load, he’d be ready to blow it again.

  “Aw, you didn’t enjoy that?” she teased.

  “Feel like crawlin’ into a ball in the corner an’ cryin’ like a fuckin’ baby.”

  She had the nerve to laugh. Laugh! Fuck that.

  “I guess you never had that done to you before.”

  “That would be a big fat fuckin’ no,” he grumbled. He gave her the stink eye. “Mind removin’ it from my ass now?”

  She giggled again. “Sure.” She wiggled her finger and he jerked away from her, dislodging the offending digit. She slipped from the bed, then padded barefoot and naked into the bathroom. He heard the sink run, the toilet flush and then she was back, climbing into bed with him, snuggling against his side.

  He wrapped an arm tightly around her and sighed with contentment. “Where’d you learn that?”

  “The Internet.”

  “Right,” he grunted. As many times as he’d shoved his fingers and his dick up a woman’s ass, he’d never had it done to him, the dick part he never would.

  But he had to admit, she had a touch that made him lose his shit.

  “Don’t ever tell anyone you did that.”

  She giggled softly again, patted his stomach, and snuggled closer. “Okay.”

  “Never goin’ to ask you to do that again.”

  She lifted her head and he avoided her gaze. “I see how you worded that.”

  “Right,” he grumbled.

  “So... you liked it.”

  He grunted, and twisted his fingers within the long length of her hair. When he finally sneaked a peek at her, she was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Got it,” she whispered.

  “Good,” he answered. “How’d you get in here?”

  “Jazz.”

  Of course. He looked over at the clock on the nightstand. “You’re up early.”

  “Hawk, it’s ten.”

  He wound a strand of her hair around his finger then tugged it. “Yeah, early. Bar’s open ‘til two. Work ‘til three. Don’t fall asleep ‘til four.”

  Her fingers brushed over his chest and she circled a fingertip around one of his nipples. When she scraped the tip of it with her nail, he shuddered. Goddamn.

  “I know.”

  Against his better judgement he stated, “Weren’t here last night.” There was nothing obligating her to sleep in his bed while waiting for him to come home, but he was always pleased when she was. And he hated to admit he was disappointed when she wasn’t.

  “I had some late clients.”

  He cocked a brow. “How late?”

  She slid farther up his side, placed her thigh over his, and nuzzled her nose into his neck. Damn, he liked that.

  “I had dinner with one and drinks afterward with another.”

  His body tensed and he stilled his fingers that were tracing the curves of her waist and hip. “That normal?”

  “I try to avoid it when I can. Sometimes I can’t.”

  “Don’t like you goin’ out at night with a man. Dinner or drinks.”

  “Who said they were men?”

  Right. He tried to catch her gaze but she was avoiding it. “Were they?”

  She sighed. “Yes.”

  His nostrils flared and his blood surged through him. He blew out a forceful breath and shut his eyes until his temper cooled down a few degrees.

  Pressing her lips against his throat, she laid a path of kisses along his skin. “I can’t be here every night, Hawk. I don’t live here and we’re not even what I’d consider dating.”

  He opened his eyes and stared at her. It fucking killed him how beautiful she was. She shouldn’t be in his bed. She should be in some rich fucker’s bed, bearing his well-off children, and being spoiled with overpriced jewelry, expensive cars and fancy vacations.

  He could give her none of that.

  The only thing he could give her hung between his legs.

  God-fucking-damnit.

  “I have my own life, my own career, and my own place. I can’t always be away from it.”

  The air rushed out of him and the disappointment rushed right in. “Right.”

  “It is what it is.”

  His jaw tightened. He fucking hated that saying. “An’ what is it?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered so softly that he almost didn’t hear her.

  That was a bullshit answer. “Right,” he repeated.

  “Hawk...”

  “Quiet, Kiki.”

  He felt her lift her head, but he stared at the ceiling. His chest was tight; his blood pounded through every vein and artery in his body. A sharp pain shot through his brain.

  “Hawk,” she started again.

  “Seriously, shut it.” She needed to stop talking, otherwise he might go ape shit and say something he might or might not regret. Either way, it wouldn’t be good.

  “Right,” she echoed him, now just as tense as him. “Maybe I should go.”

  “Right.”

  “I guess I’ll see you at the fundraiser,” she said softly.

  His breath rushed out of him. The Dogs & Hogs fundraiser was a month away. Fuck.

  “Yep.”

  He continued to stare at the ceiling as he listened to her gather her clothes, get dressed, and head downstairs. Though, he had to strain to hear the soft click of the front door closing.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself not to jump out of bed to chase her down as her Vette roared to life and he heard her back out of his driveway. Her tires chirped for a split second when she gave the six hundred-fifty horsepower engine gas and accelerated at a high rate of speed down the street.

  Hawk flipped over onto his belly and punched the pillow, then shoved his face into it and screamed.

  Hawk’s gaze swept the fairgrounds and landed on the area where he knew Kiki’s pop-up tent and table would be set up. He was surprised to see a line of people snaking out from under the tent. His eyes shifted to the kissing booth not twenty feet from her location, then flicked back to the “legal aid” table, then back again to Dawg’s girls in the booth.

  What the fuck?

  Her line was longer than the kissing booth’s, but like the kissing booth it was made up completely of men.

  He never should have gone on the Poker Run this morning. But he needed to clear his head and he thought taking his bike out to enjoy the early morning air would help. It didn’t.

  Why? Because he knew he’d finally see Kiki again after a whole fucking month of not. Which was bullshit.

  But for the best.

  Sure. Fucking goddamn.

  His bed had been empty for almost thirty days. Even his bed at fucking church. He didn’t touch anyone else for almost thirty whole days. That was worse than doing the ten days in County.

  Right now, he couldn’t stomach any of the pussy that had been offered up. Maybe after today things would go back to normal. He would see her, remind himself that she was way out of his league, that her not showing up in his bed was for the best, and get back to quick and meaningless fucks.

  Once he dealt with seeing Kiki today, she’d sign off on all the hours he put into this fundraiser and he’d be free from the court’s judgment. For the most part.

  And she’d be free of him, too.

  He’d just need to keep his nose clean awhile longer and get off probation.

  He strode across the trampled fairgro
und grass, pleased that they had a great turnout, but annoyed that he had to push through so many people to get to her.

  When he got to the crowd at her tent, he shoved his way through.

  “There’s a line,” came a grumble behind him.

  Hawk ignored the gripes, groans and bitching as he worked his way through the line to move around to the back of the table. She had a clear plastic barrel, with a sign taped to it that read “donations,” sitting at one corner of the table and it was stuffed full of dough.

  As he stepped beside her, deep blue eyes slowly rose up his body until they hit his face.

  “Hey,” she said softly. Then turned her attention back to the guy sitting in the chair on the other side of the table.

  Hey? That was all she had to say?

  He let his gaze roam over her like a starved man. It felt like he hadn’t seen her in more than a month. More like a year.

  Fuckin’ A.

  Now that he was up close and personal, he could see exactly why she had such a crowd. It wasn’t because it took longer to give free legal advice than a kiss. It was because she wore tight jeans with frayed holes strategically placed, and a super snug black DAMC camisole which did nothing but emphasize her fucking tits. She had to be wearing some sort of push-up bra, or even no bra at all, since her cleavage was mounding out of the top begging to be stared at. Or even touched.

  Her tits had to be almost as big as some of Dawg’s girls, but hers were one hundred percent natural. Soft, squeezable, and certainly fucking suck-worthy.

  His fingers clenched into fists. He was going to lose his mind.

  “Where’d you get that?” he growled.

  Her eyes jumped from the guy she was talking to back to him. “What?”

  “What you’re wearin’.”

  Her fingers automatically went to one of the thin straps that curved over her bare shoulder. His eyes and probably every other man’s in eyeball view went the same direction. Too bad it wasn’t winter when she’d have to wear a turtleneck and a thick coat.

  “One of the girls gave it to me. We’re all wearing the same thing.”

  “Didn’t they have your size?”

  “This is my size.”