Nowhere (Crimson Outlaws MC #1)

by Bink Cummings

  That sounds pretty much perfect. Just what I need. No pressure. How does he always seem to get that? It’s like he’s picking up Wi-Fi signals from my brain. He gets me. Understands things that most can’t. I can be myself. It feels damn good.

  However, there is just one little detail that we need to cover first.

  “I’m in agreement, except … no more blonde blowjobs, no more blonde fucking, no more blondes groping you. Just no more blondes, period, where you’re concerned.”

  “You do know they work for me?” he asks, not being shitty. If he were trying to pull one over, my gut would tell me. He's trying to make a point.

  Nodding, I respond with firm dignity. “I know, and can handle that. But what I can’t handle is seeing someone I’m growing to care about, fucking, or being sucked by some employee or otherwise. They can work for you without rubbing on your dick. The dick is off limits. If you agree with that, then we have a deal.”

  A sly smile spreads across his face, lighting it up. Even his eyes dance with amusement. “So what you’re saying is, you own my dick? That my dick only goes in your pussy. Into your mouth.” His eyes lock onto my lips, and he licks his own, clearly picturing a dirty fantasy in his head.

  Playfully, I slap his arm, drawing his mind out of the gutter. “Yes. Your dick is mine, and so are your hands.” I had to add that, too, just in case he thinks he can skate by and use his hands to play with them instead. Not that I think he would. But still, I have to cover all my bases. It’s better to be safe than sorry.

  “Oooo, kinky. Does that mean you’re gonna hold my cock when I piss, too?” His eyebrows bounce with mischief.

  Of course, the idiot would think that. What is it with men and that weird fantasy? Pursing a sour face, I slap his arm again just because I can. “No. I’m not holding it while you piss. You know what I mean.”

  Leaning closer, his smiling lips touch mine and linger there just on the surface, allowing us to breathe each other in. Jesus. I lo—like this man. “I know what you meant, Kitten.” His tongue pokes out, sampling the seam of my lips. “And I agree. As long as you’re mine, I won’t need them, anyhow. They were only here to keep me from going crazy in your presence. It’s difficult to tame a hard-on when you’re horny 24-7 because you’re living under the same roof with a brunette fox. I had to have something to take the edge off. But now that we’ve gotten this settled, I’ll take the edge off using the fox’s body instead. I just hope you don’t get too jealous. She’s fuckin’ hot, and a firecracker in bed.”

  This man … he’s too much.

  Chuckling, with a huge smile, I grab the back of his neck and mold his lips to mine. “You’re so cute sometimes,” I mutter there, before kissing him with all I’ve got. It doesn’t take long for the heat to build between us, and we’re back to panting, hearts hammering. My brain swirls as he knocks me on my ass with yet another kiss. The man has one helluva talented mouth.

  In the same moment, we tear our lips apart, gasping. We pause a beat, catching our breath. “My dick needs some sleep, almost as much as my brain does. We’ll need our energy for later. Get some rest, Kitten.”

  Snuggling closer, I rest my cheek on Wes’s chest, listening to the cadence of his heart pulsing against my ear. It’s sort of romantic. The only other person I’ve ever done this with is Nash. Gah! Why do I have to go thinking about him at a time like this? Nope. Time to push him far from my mind. Wes is the one with me right here. Wes is the one I’m growing to care for. Wes is the one who actually wants me. Wes is amazing.

  “Sweet dreams.” I kiss his smooth, muscled pec.

  Lips caress my forehead. “Sweet dreams, my foxy Kitten,” they whisper there.

  Here’s to new beginnings.

  Here’s to Wes and me.

  Here’s to the possibility of love.

  Here’s to another seventeen days.

  Sweet dreams everyone. See you when we finally crawl outta bed.

  Wow, he really is sleeping with his hand smashed between my thighs.

  Still Day Twelve

  Bathed, and dressed in shorts and a tee, I’m ready for the day. Stepping out of my bedroom, and into the hall, I feel lighter than I have in months. This morning was good for Wes and me. I think we’re actually moving forward into something great. I just hope it lasts and I’m just not a fun conquest. Although, the way my heart and gut feels about him says that he could be someone very special. Someone that could last. Who knows? Only time will tell.

  When I’d woken about an hour ago, Wes was gone. On the pillow beside mine was a chicken scratch note that said he was working in his office for a few hours and didn’t want to wake me. How cute is that?

  Padding toward the living room, my stomach grumbles. I definitely need to grab something to snack on. It’s already mid-afternoon. Hopefully, the cooks have something extra filling on the menu tonight. If not, I’ll be starving by eight, and searching for chocolate. Well, I might search for some chocolate anyhow. It’s a girl’s best friend. I know, I know, you might not agree. Some people say it’s diamonds. Well, they’re liars. Diamonds don’t comfort you. Chocolate does, and so do motorcycles, though in an entirely different way. Trust me.

  Rounding the final corner, I slow my stride as numerous voices echo off the white walls. Another two tentative steps and I’m creeping closer to the living room’s entrance.

  “I can respect your position, but I don’t agree with it.” I can hear Wes clearly. He’s all business. What if he’s in the middle of a meeting? If he is, I don’t want to disturb him.

  Another two steps and I’m secretly peeking around the archway and into the vast room, just as someone remarks, “I don’t give a fuck what you agree with. She shouldn’t be here to begin with.”

  Motherfucker! You’ve got to be kidding me! This cannot be happening. Pinch me. This has to be a dream!

  My eyes widen in shock and horror as they lock on the person speaking. Then I take a broad step, entering the room, my head held high. This is going to be interesting.

  “Gwennie-bee!”

  Nash is to his feet and across the room before I get an angry word in edgewise. His strong hands grasp my forearms at the same moment his mouth slams into mine, stealing my breath away. Oh, fuck! This can’t be real! I stagger a step backward, but he keeps me going as he pushes us against the wall, pinning me there beneath his massive frame. I vaguely hear the heated shouts of men over the blood rushing through my ears. Taking a deep breath through my nose, my head spins like a top as Nash’s heady scent hits me hard. My knees nearly give out.

  Without consent, that familiar tongue invades my mouth, robbing me of my strength to push him away. Sweeping his tongue against mine, his hands frantically claw at my clothes, hips, breasts, ass, everywhere that they can touch. What’s he doing here? Why is this happening? So many questions. So much tongue. So much Nash. Oh God.

  Desperation clings to every action, as Nash growls into our kiss before grabbing my thigh and hooking it over his hip. A stout thickness prods my belly, and I groan at the feel of it there. I can’t help it. Wrong or not, this is my Nash. My family. My … Jesus … He’s here. What the … Wait … we’re at Wes’s. I was with Wes this morning. I can’t do this. This is wrong. But … oh, so good. I have to stop.

  Go back to sleep, you needy whore! I scream inside my head. It does little good as my body not only betrays me but Wes, too. Mewling into our kiss, I slide my hands up Nash’s shoulders to his neck where I slip my fingers into the base of his long hair. Damn. I missed him so much.

  Nash groans his approval, palming my ass to jerk me closer.

  Yes.

  Lost in the moment, a wave of memories come tumbling in. Wes and I having pillow talk. Nash and I eating homemade pancakes with Trish. Wes and Garrett laughing together over breakfast. Nash putting Chapstick on Trish’s lips before she went to play in the snow. Wes’s hands curling around my belly just because he wanted to hold me. Nash … never doing that because he always had a girlfriend. Alw
ays had someone else. I was always the sister with the fetish for kissing her step-brother. He never wanted more. Never expressed more. Wes did this morning. He wanted me for me. Not because we have some strange dependency with one another. No.

  This is wrong. I can’t do this. Not anymore.

  Nash’s lips moving over mine might feel like home. Every part of him does. From the way he smells. To the way his thick hair runs through my fingers. But he’ll never be more than that. Not with Kelly around. He doesn’t love me the way I love him, and he never will.

  A special piece of my heart breaks off.

  This is done.

  I have to let go.

  It’s time to move on.

  Grabbing Nash’s shoulders, I shove him away. Our lips snap as they detach. He takes a staggered step backward. Those beautiful green eyes of his are glassy as they rake my wobbling form. I sag against the wall for balance, afraid that if I don’t, I’ll fall.

  “I fuckin’ missed you, Gwennie-bee.” Nash comes at me again, except this time, I put both of my palms up to stop him. Thankfully, he complies.

  Pausing a beat, I close my eyes to steady my breathing. I sweep my tongue over my engorged lips. Damn. He sure can kiss, too. One session with Nash and they’re already swollen. Let’s not forget about how turned on I am right now. If it weren’t for my panties, there’d be a mess dripping down my inner thighs by now. They quiver in agreement.

  As if my life wasn’t already complicated and confusing enough with Wes, Nash is here. I glance up, scanning the room. So is Toa, Price, and four of their other brothers. Toa’s standing beside a pissed off Wes, holding a shoulder to keep him seated in his chair. Wes’s eyes are blazing as they glance my way, filled with pain and resentment. Here, I was talking about don’t touch the blondes this morning, and I just finished playing tonsil hockey with Nash. What was I thinking? Moreover, what the hell was Nash thinking? A tsunami of guilt crashes forth. I’m such a hypocrite.

  Ignoring Nash’s disconcerting presence, I turn my pleading gaze upon Wes, seeking answers. “What’s going on here?” With the flick of my wrist, I gesture to the room of antsy bikers.

  Staring daggers in my direction, Wes massages the back of his neck, shrugging Toa’s grip off his shoulder. Toa lets it fly when he gives him a wide berth. Taking a deep breath, his chest expanding, Wes releases it before responding. “Apparently, Kitten—”

  Nash cuts him off. “Don’t talk to him about this, Gwennie. Talk to me. I’m the one here.”

  Wes growls under his breath. “Show some fucking respect in my home and close your mouth. She’s asking me. Not you. I have been respectful enough to talk with you when I could’ve kicked you out.”

  Nash whips around, glaring at Wes, his fists bunched at his sides, jaw tight. I know that stance. He’s preparing to brawl. That’s not good. “Whatever, motherfucker. I’d love to see ya try.”

  That cool, calm, badass exterior that Wes exudes most of the time shines through as he casually leans back in his chair, kicks his heel onto his knee, and regards Nash like he’s a piece of shit. “You underestimate me, Mr. McQueen. Showing up here unannounced was disrespectful enough. Then you come in here, acting as though you own the place. No,” he tsks, “I think not. I’m tolerating your presence because of my feelings for Gwen. If you were smarter, you would have realized that I have this house under surveillance 24/7. By now, there are at least five of the highest trained men in the business surrounding the house. Including one of my drivers who lives on the premises. So I suggest you relax, and use your brain.”

  Wow. Nobody talks to Nash that way without getting a face full of his fist, except me. Typically, Nash is a fair man, but when his emotions are twisted, there’s no telling what he’ll do. I’ve seen him punch a dude in the face for smaller offenses. Call me crazy, but I don’t feel all that worried, even if Nash is ready to let loose. Though, I don’t know if he would with me here. At least the old Nash would never put me in harm’s way.

  A scary sound rumbles in Nash’s chest.

  Toa intervenes, taking a step toward him in warning. I can see the silent conversation passing between the two of them.

  “Calm the fuck down,” his eyes say.

  “Fuck off,” Nash returns.

  Toa’s eyes swap to me for an instant before relocking with Nash’s. “Do you want her to end up hurt?”

  The stare down must work, because Nash’s shoulders deflate just before his fists unclench. I guess it’s a good thing Toa and him are great friends. He can talk him down when I really don’t feel like it. At this point, I’m not even sure if I like him being here or not. He wasn’t invited. That’s clear enough. Just looking at him in that leather cut, wearing a pair of dark denim jeans, with his dark hair loose, face unshaven- it’s messing with my emotions. Part of me is happy to see him. While another is still trying to doctor the scab he just reopened the moment I saw him again. Sure, the last time we spoke things were a little better. He was sweet, even. But that doesn’t excuse everything else. The distance. The brush off. Kelly. I have a wicked stubborn streak, and I’m not very big on forgiveness. Hey, don’t judge me. I’m working on it.

  Wes snaps his fingers, drawing the attention back to him. “As I was saying, Kitten, I was working in my office when I heard a bunch of motorcycles drive up. We’ve all been talking, and I guess our little strip club rendezvous wasn’t as secretive as it should have been. One of the gentlemen at the meeting gave your brother a call to tell him that his sister was playing both sides.”

  I knew it! I knew something bad was going to come out of that. My orgasm show, I’m sure, didn’t help matters. Oh well. Shit happens.

  “I told Steel he was seein’ things. I didn’t believe him when he said he saw you with him.” Nash lifts his chin toward Wes in disgust.

  “I was with him. I’ve been with him for twelve days. What I don’t understand is why you’re here, and how this has anything to do with you. I called. You knew I was safe.”

  “Yeah. Real safe, Gwennie-bee; not using your cell and calling from more than a private number,” Nash notes rudely, making my hand itch to smack his smug face.

  Instead, I focus my energy on suppressing the urge to roll my eyes. It's bad manners to do that at a time like this, especially when the room is already full of too much testosterone to begin with. “More than a private number? Is there such a thing?” That came out nicer than I anticipated. Score.

  “What he means, Gwen, is that Wes’s number is encrypted. Gunz couldn’t even crack it, when we asked for a favor,” Toa, the voice of reason, answers politely. Finally, one guy who’s not being either a dickhead or acting like he’s better than everyone.

  “Thank you.” I force a smile. The one he flashes right back is purely genuine. It dials my tension down a notch.

  “The Sacred Sinners VP couldn’t get a feel on you. He thought you were Crimson Outlaw property, so when he saw you humpin’ this fucker,” Nash does that chin lifty thing again, “he wanted to give me a heads up.”

  My hip cocks, hand hitching to it. Just because I can’t eye roll does not mean this attitude isn’t gonna come out, guns blazing. Why? Because these assholes are playing tattletale like a bunch of three year olds, when they could have… Oh … I dunno … asked me. It’s not like I would lie. I’m not all about that.

  “Now why would their VP think I’m Crimson property?”

  I’ve never been anyone’s property. This is the twenty-first century. Not the eighteen hundreds. I know that’s club code. I’m a biker; not a club member.

  Wesley scoffs, shaking his head in revulsion. “He thought you were Nash’s old lady.”

  My eyes bug at that. He can’t be serious. I swing my gaze to Nash. Yup. It’s true. That’s exactly what their VP thought. How do I know that? Because Nash won’t look at me, and his feet can’t stand still. He’s antsy. And an antsy Nash is a guilty Nash. What the hell? I expected to have a great day after I took a long bath, then blow-dried my hair, and put on some
light makeup. Sure, I was achy from all the orgasms. But pleasantly so. Now, I’m here staring at my step-brother, who just went and ruined my day by showing up to act like a barbaric asshole. I’ve still not grasped why he’s rode all the way here. Nobody’s talkin’. It's crickets up in this place.

  “Why would he think that, Nathaniel?” I lift an irritated brow, chewing on my inner cheek to keep from kicking him in the shin.

  I wanted to read comics with Garrett when he got home from town. Not argue with a bunch of bikers and Wes in the living room.

  “Because, after you’d left that Friday, Steel asked me who you were and I told him.”

  He’s looking at his feet, his tone no longer defiant. This is guilt-ridden Nash talking. I hate when his voice goes all vulnerable like that. It kicks my mothering needs into high gear, and all I want to do is hug him, kiss him, and tell him everything is going to be alright. But I’m not going to do that. Nope. I’m going to stand right here, at the front of the room where I can keep a keen eye on everyone. I don’t need any more surprises.

  “Told him what, exactly?” I ask.

  “That—” Nash mutters under his breath but is cut short.

  Wes intercedes, answering for him, “That you’re his old lady.”

  “Shut the hell up, asshole! You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” Nash’s anger is back in full force. Lifting his head, back straight, he takes a step toward Wes like he’s about to pounce. Though Wes doesn’t seem to care one iota as he remains seated—comfortable. Does he have a death wish or what? Or perhaps he’s just that arrogant. I can’t decide.

  “Then why don’t you enlighten us all? Including Gwen.” Wes points to me. “Since your little, poor me, I’m in trouble, charade already started to steal the fire from her eyes. You sure know how to play her, don’t you? Bet ya do it all the time to get your way. Use her need to nurture your own benefit. I have to admit, it’s a smart move, but you’re not going to do that here. I won’t stand for it. So you sure as fuck better tell her what it is you came here for, or I will. You’ve already taken time out of our day. I’d very much like to get back to it. Now proceed.”