She closed her eyes as he surged forward. He filled her on a single thrust. She cried out and pushed her hips up, struggling to take all of him. He filled her unmercifully. He stretched her with his hard, thick length. It hurt. It burned. It fucking tore her apart. She loved it. She loved every single second and sensation.
Trace trembled above her, the effort of holding still obviously more than he could bear. She moved first, a little wriggle of her hips. He growled near her ear again and moved. There was no halfway with him, no holding back. She’d unleashed him, all of him. And fuck, she loved it. She wanted it. All of it. All of him. Exactly as he was.
Trace surged inside of her, thrusting hard. He pulled out and slammed back in, filling her again, pistoning until he was deeper than before. He pumped into her over and over until she was used to the feel of him, until she could take all of him, until his balls slapped against her ass and the slick, messy, glorious sounds of their bodies joining echoed through the living room.
Sandra hung on- barely. She dug her heels into Trace’s ass. She closed her eyes and savored every sensation, every stroke. She throbbed around him as he thrust harder, faster, more frenzied. She rocked her hips in time with him, into the hard pumps, taking him deeper. The pressure built, coiling, growing until it was all consuming. Trace strained above her. The tremors in his arms passed through her, where their hands were still joined above her head.
She knew he was waiting for her, waiting so that they could come together. She’d only ever done that with him. It was fitting that she was going to do it again…
She let go and let herself soar. The climax was sharper, like fire, burning her up. It exploded through her, sizzled through her veins, down her limbs, took hold of her and wrung her out. Every single nerve ending was alive with sensation, awash in the pleasure and the pain. She screamed and writhed, bucked and twisted. She screamed his name on an exhale, coming down.
He waited, the bastard waited. He waited until she was at the end before he surged hard one last time. She’d said she wanted to feel him in her stomach and when he came, he buried himself so deep inside of her that she really did feel him all the way in her stomach, in her womb. He vibrated hard, his massive body trembled, his cock throbbed and kicked as he exploded deep inside of her.
“Fuck, Sandy,” he ground out thickly. He bit at her neck, licked and suckled her while he trembled.
The warm jets sent her into another wild climax. She clung to Trace as the waves washed over her. She took everything he had to give her, her body greedy, desperate, starved for him. He clung to her like she was a lifeline, one he’d have to release and be set adrift once more.
Sandra was still shaking when Trace slipped away. He righted himself, tugged her dress down roughly, and adjusted his clothing. He refused to look at her.
She sat up slowly, her body still reeling from what they’d just done. She thought she could let him go after. That she could just let him walk out the door and that would be it. She was wrong. God, she didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t want him to walk out of her life for good.
“Wait,” she panted. “Please. You can’t just leave. Not after… not like this…”
She didn’t miss the flicker of hurt and regret in Trace’s dark eyes. “I have to. We both know that.” His jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth together.
“No.” She shook her head. She was soaked, her dress wet with sweat. She was still sore and pulsing between her legs. “You can’t just walk out again. I’m not going to let you do that.”
“Sandy… please. We both know that I’m no good for you. I’m worse than I was before. You don’t know the things I’ve done. The things I’ll have to do yet…”
Tears welled in her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but they spilled down her cheeks. “Please.” She’d never begged anyone before. She never had to. He didn’t give her the chance the first time. She was too shocked to respond properly and he’d just walked out of her life. “There has to be a way out. A way- I’m not- I’m not done with you yet. I- I wasn’t done with you then. Please. Don’t walk out on me again. Not- not yet.”
“This could never work. You- me. It’s not- I’m not the kind of man that you can love.”
“Maybe that’s not your choice.” She cast her gaze upward and when he inhaled sharply, she knew that he knew. She loved him. She’d always loved him. She’d never stopped. She’d tried to lie to herself, to keep her heart from shattering completely. She’d given up hope long ago, but that seed in her heart remained rooted, even in the most barren ground.
“I’m dangerous,” Trace insisted. “I’m no good. Only pain and heartbreak would come from this. From knowing me.”
“No! You made the decision last time. You walked out on me. I didn’t get a say. I didn’t have a choice. My car ran out of gas for a reason. You, of all people, were there for a reason. It brought us back together. I’m not letting you go. I can’t- I can’t bear it again. I can’t go through that again.”
Trace shook his head angrily. “I’m sorry. I never should have done this.” He whirled and stalked out of the room. He didn’t look back at her. He didn’t even slow his pace or hesitate.
The door slammed shut with a cold hard finality.
Sandra knew. She knew that she’d never be the same. That she’d never been the same. Nine years ago, a man named Alex ruined her for any other man. A different man, a man who looked like Alex, but was harder, changed, fiercer, darker, a man who called himself Trace, stepped back into her life and shattered her all over again.
Chapter 9
TRACE
Trace did what he hadn’t done in years. He’d taken a few days for himself. He wasn’t called to the clubhouse. There was no urgent meeting or fucking over-the-top celebrations to attend to. He knew Bone was busy trying to figure out who the rat was and how to get back his stolen shipment of drugs or barring that, how to stay the fuck on top. He was busy with his generals, planning on how best to go to war. Since Trace was generally just used to hunt men down, men who didn’t want to be found, he wasn’t called in.
He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but he couldn’t help himself. He did what he did best, put his skills to use, and not for Bone. For himself. He looked into Sandra’s background. Really looked this time, not just a cursory perusal. Looked into his son. He learned about her the only way he could.
It turned out, Sandra’s ex, Steven, might be of some use. Trace already knew the guy was a dealer, but he must have glassed over the facts in his hurry to find out about Sandra before. The guy’s supplier was John Anders.
Turned out he might be able to kill two fucking birds with one fucking fist.
Send Sandra’s ex a warning, since judging from her phone records, the guy had contacted her more than a couple times recently, which made Trace burn with jealous rage. He’d pay the fucker a visit and see what he could learn about the piece of shit’s boss.
An idea kicked around in his head, but he wouldn’t let it take root. A guy like him didn’t have the luxury of hope.
Wednesday night rolled around and Trace knew he couldn’t avoid putting in an appearance without having questions asked. He didn’t want anyone accusing him of trying to skip town. The last guy who bore the title of traitor, undeservedly according to himself and a few others, was gunned down right along with his old lady.
It was after midnight when he drove his bike into the compound and parked next to the multitude of others. Only Bone had a spot. The rest of the place was a free for all. There were bikes of all shapes and sizes. Mostly black. He was in a black mood and it hadn’t improved by the time he reached the back door.
He wasn’t exactly surprised to see Tommy out there having a smoke. The guy was like a fucking chimney. Apparently getting his rocks off on torturing people wasn’t enough of a vice. He smoked, he drank, he whored like the rest of them.
Trace hadn’t had a woman at the club in a long time. Probably over a year. He didn’t believe in mixing business wit
h pleasure. Never had, so he never took a woman on the outside either. Not because Sandy fucked him up or anything.
It was just because he didn’t want the added complication of an old lady and a family to protect. Big Ted had that. His old lady ended up dead right along with him.
Trace was sent to track down their escaped daughter and a fucking prospect from their own club. He’d found them, both of them. Kirstin saved his life when he nearly drowned in a river in the woods where he’d chased her down. He promised her a life for a life, so he’d let her go and spared Damon, the fucking prospect who took off with her when he was supposed to put a bullet in her head.
He loved her and all that, so he couldn’t do it.
“Nice night,” Tommy said in his dark, deep voice. He took a long drag on his cigarette, which was nearly finished. He cast the butt aside and instead of heading back in, dug his pack out of his jacket pocket to have another one.
“Yeah. Whatever.”
Trace went for the door, but Tommy blocked him. “You too proud to stand outside and have a conversation? People say you’re the nice one.”
Trace growled out a warning, but Tommy just grinned. He pulled out a lighter and lit the cigarette dangling from his lips. The guy was deceptively good looking for someone who enjoyed putting people to ground. “Fuck off, Tommy. I’ve had a long day already.”
“They say talking about that shit is therapeutic.”
“Talk with you?” he laughed, a mirthless sound. “That would be about as fucking therapeutic as punching myself in the mouth.”
“Thanks. Fuck you too.”
“Are you going to get the fuck out of the way and let me in?”
“Nope. Not until I’m done my smoke.”
Trace rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms and took a calming breath. He didn’t need to lose his shit right there. Tommy would suck back that coffin nail in a matter of minutes and he could get inside and have that whiskey or two he decided was the best solution to his problems.
“It’s a woman isn’t it?”
The hair on the back of Trace’s neck stood on end. He whirled to face Tommy. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“It is. You wouldn’t get all surly if it wasn’t. I’ve never seen you anything but put together. You’re always calm and chill. Never show any emotion. Bone asks for something. You get it done. He tells you to find a guy. You do it. Don’t ask any questions. Just do it.”
“Kind of like you. He tells you to torture a guy and put a bullet in his head and you do it.”
Tommy grinned. “I have never yet to put a bullet in anyone’s head. Going the quick route isn’t exactly my style. I like to draw it out. Plus, head-shots make a hell of a mess. Fingers, knee caps, fucking whole hands, whatever. Don’t mind it one bit. Teeth, blood, all good. Brains though… I don’t like cleaning brains off the wall. Never have.”
“I’m sorry to have offended your delicate sensibilities then.”
“You fucking better be. I’m not the kind of person you want to piss off.”
“Or you’ll what? Gut me? Pull out my fingernails? Make me scream and die slowly and horribly?”
Tommy winked. Actually fucking winked. “Any and all of the above.”
Trace didn’t know what was wrong with the guy. Normally Tommy was cold enough to freeze ice and rather creepy while skulking around the club. When he was wasted, he was marginally better. Surprisingly, the club whores adored him. Apparently he didn’t threaten to gut any of them. Or maybe he did… no one knew.
“Are you done that fucking cigarette yet?” Trace growled. “I’m really not in the mood and you’re standing between me and a good glass of whiskey.”
“It’s a woman then? I know I’m right. You might as well just admit it.”
“Fuck off.”
“Yup. Well…” Tommy shrugged. “Having a life outside this place isn’t the worst thing to happen to a person. As long as you can keep it separate. Normally family is off limits but- we all know what happened to Big Ted.”
“Yeah…” Trace said slowly. He kept his voice level and his face carefully blank. If Tommy suspected anything, if anyone suspected anything, they’d never let on. He’d come back with evidence, photos that were real fucking convincing about Damon and Kirstin dying in a rollover. “Of course we all know.”
Tommy stubbed out his cigarette on the brick wall and flicked it to the ground. He raised a brow. “You ever think there’s something more than this?”
Trace’s mouth dropped. “Uh- no? Is that a trick question? Anyone think I’m the rat? Is that why you’re out here grilling me?”
“Nope.” Tommy smiled, and fuck it was back to being creepy as shit. Trace’s skin crawled like a worm was slowly inching across his skin. The hair on his nape prickled again. “I haven’t heard a word about anyone thinking you’d be the rat. We all know you’re loyal. You’ve been in this place forever. Longer than me, that’s for sure. God knows how you stand it.”
Trace bristled. “The torture thing getting a little old? Wearing a little thin?”
“Hell no. I love my job. Just- lately- I was starting to think this is it. You know. Big Ted. Bone. How much longer before the place implodes? It’s not going to be long before we have a fucking civil war on our hands. I want to be on the right side of it. Come out on top. A lot of men trust you. I just want to be on the winning side, that’s all.”
“There isn’t going to be a war in our club,” Trace growled. He kept his private doubts just that. Private. He kept that shit to himself.
“Oh really?” Tommy narrowed his eyes. He didn’t have to do much to look intimidating. The fucker just existed. He probably made babies cry and dogs bark long before they ever set eyes on him. “I don’t think you’re as confident as you’re letting on.” He lowered his voice to a mere whisper. Loud music and shouts drifted from beyond the door. No one would hear them and Tommy knew it. The guy wasn’t fucking stupid. “We all know it’s a matter of time before Bone loses his shit completely. Even he knows he’s slipping. Losing shipments, a rat in our midst, gunning down his VP because some of us liked Big Ted better than him.” Tommy shook his head. “Not cool, not cool. He’s tipped his hand. He’s losing it. Losing control. Losing his own fucking mind. When shit goes down, I’m not going to be among the body count, you feel me. So if you hear of anything, you let me know.”
“Uhh… I’m sure I’m not the one to hear anything. I’m not in Bone’s inner circle. I want to keep it that way. I value my neck and I like it where it is, attached to my shoulders.”
“You’re a good shot though. If it comes down to it, I’ll make sure I find you. I’ll have your back if you have mine.”
“Right.” Trace nodded. He stared Tommy down to let the fucker know he wasn’t intimidated. “I’d have any of my brother’s backs. They’re my brothers. My loyalty is to this club first and foremost. Always has been, ever since I patched in. Always will be.”
Tommy shrugged and pulled out yet another cigarette. Trace kicked the toe of his boot into the dirt. You have to be fucking kidding me. The guy lit up and the night air was filled with the pungent smoke. The compound was dark, a light on in the corner, the security cameras blinking from various corners. The top was lined in layers of barbed wire. The place was surrounded by concrete walls that were virtually impenetrable. The building itself was brick with bullet proof glass windows. It would take a fucking explosion to bring the place down.
Or, like Tommy suggested, it might fall from the inside first.
“You’re loyal to your brothers until they’re not your brothers anymore. Until this isn’t a club any longer.”
“What are you saying?” Trace hissed. “If you like your own fucking head where it is, I wouldn’t go around spouting shit like that.”
“Don’t mean nothing by it,” Tommy insisted as he took a long drag on the cigarette. The butt end flared red and another puff of smoke escaped into the warm night. “Just that I didn’t sign up for this shit. This i
sn’t the club it used to be. Bone isn’t the leader he used to be. Old Prez is a piece of shit now. He lets his ego get in the way of making decisions. He’s either going to get dusted by someone else or by his own brothers soon enough. If it happens or this place goes down, I’m not sticking around. I didn’t sign up for death do us part for this. I signed up for a club with some honor and integrity. A family. Something where I could be more than just me. Something where I’d have family, brothers, all that bullshit. This ain’t that. If it falls, I’m moving on.” Tommy shrugged annoyingly and finally, finally, sucked the last of his cigarette back. He stubbed it out as well and shot Trace a hard look. “Maybe you could to. Find your way to that woman.”
Trace returned the black look. “What woman?” He turned and pushed past Tommy. The guy let him pass. He fired in the access code and pulled open the door. To hell with the shot of whiskey. He’d take the bottle.
Chapter 10
SANDRA
Two days of moping around the house proved to accomplish absolutely nothing. Sandra had her shifts at the diner to distract her, but her free time stretched on endlessly. She tried shopping, but her heart wasn’t in it and she found it more annoying than anything. She watched Alex’s soccer game on Thursday night. It took her out of herself for a few hours. Alex was a great kid. A good athlete, but also a better sport and an amazing teammate. He never failed to make her proud of him.
She took him out for ice cream after his game to celebrate. It was something she never did and he was thankful for the treat. They’d been back at the apartment for less than half an hour, Alex in his room listening to music and finishing homework, when the buzzer sounded in the living room.
Sandra paused in the middle of the kitchen floor. She was down on her hands and knees, scrubbing at dirt that didn’t exist. The cheap vinyl had definitely seen better days and no amount of cleaning was going to repair the worn patches and the stains from previous occupants a decade before.
Lonely Rider - The Box Set: A Motorcycle Club Romance - The Complete Series Page 57
