Hooking his finger in her panties, he pulled them aside and fit his cockhead against her slick opening. “Say please, baby.”
“Plea—”
He was buried inside her before the word finished passing her lips.
***
Taco found himself sitting alone in his car parked outside Bambi’s house. Earlier, he’d left because he wasn’t sure how to respond without violence. Always in his life, he’d responded to any adversity with some form of it, but this time he knew he couldn’t. Not with her and not with his son.
So he’d had to leave. He needed to get his head straight before he could deal with this clusterfuck of a situation he’d found himself in.
How had this happened? Hell, he knew the logistics, but he’d spent his life being careful. Protection was practically his middle name. He never went in to the deep end without wearing a raincoat.
So again, how had this happened?
It’d taken a couple hours and some time to get right with the Lord before Taco concluded that the how and why didn’t matter. It was done. He had a kid. A son.
He was a father.
Jesus, how scary was that? A man like him with a kid? It was the stuff of nightmares.
So now he was sitting there like a creepy stalker guy again. The house was dark inside, but then again, it was after midnight. She was probably asleep.
He didn’t much care.
Taco wanted to barge through the front door and claim what was his. That boy was his son, and he’d lost too damn much time already. He wanted to tell her to go fuck herself. He always wanted to beg her to take him back.
He had some serious mixed emotions going on.
As much as he understood her reason for leaving, Taco still had trouble wrapping his head around her doing it so easily. That ache hadn’t gone away. If anything, it’d only gotten deeper and more painful.
She’d left knowing she was pregnant with his child, so not only didn’t she deem him worthy enough for a goodbye, he also didn’t rank high enough in importance to warrant notice that he was going to be a father.
Something like that struck a man’s ego like a battering ram.
So why the hell was he giving her this much power over him? While he sat outside torturing himself over it, she was inside sleeping like a baby.
That was all about to end.
Taco got out of the car and blazed a path up the driveway. When he reached the door, he pounding his fist against it relentlessly, a demand for entry.
“What are you doing?” Bambi screeched when she whipped open the door.
Taco’s fist froze mid-air, and his gaze skated down her curves. She was dressed in a thin white tank top that showed her dark nipples easily—nipples that grew to hard points when the cool night air kissed them. The look was finished off by a pair of tiny plaid shorts that revealed those sexy, muscular legs that used to lock around his hips like a vice.
“Do you know what time it is? Jesus Christ, Curt—”
A single step brought them chest to chest, and before she could finished that thought, Taco grabbed a fistful of that long blonde hair and hauled her up against him, crushing his mouth to hers.
TWELVE
Bambi didn’t know how to react except to respond. Taco’s aggression was unexpected, overpowering, and all-consuming. For a fleeting moment, she was taken off guard, and then Bambi latched onto him and kissed him back with the same frantic energy.
Backing her into the house, she was only somewhat aware that he kicked the door closed behind them, too caught up in the feel of his mouth and body on hers.
It’d been so long. Too damn long. She’d never stopped wanting him, and now that she had him, it was like an unquenchable thirst. She had to have more, had to have all of him.
He walked her to the couch, tumbling down on top of her, their lips never leaving one another. His tongue filled her mouth, warring with hers. She sensed all of his emotions in that kiss: excitement, desperation, desire mixed with need, and even a little anger. She understood it all too well. She’d given him plenty of reason to be mad at her, but she didn’t understand why he was here now, kissing and touching her as if he couldn’t get enough, would die without more.
Curtis’s hand was up her shirt, cupping and massaging her breast, causing both of them to release moans—hers of pleasure, his of appreciation.
“They’re so fucking big,” he said against her mouth. He squeezed, and Bambi felt wetness. “Oh shit, I think I broke it.”
Bambi’s lips split into a grin, and, lifting his head, she met Curtis’s honeyed eyes, so full of passion and desire and heat that she instantly felt inflamed. He was smiling too, and it made her heart swell as her stomach flipped.
He was still holding her breast in his palm, his rock hard erection pressed tight against her clit, when he said, “Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want me.”
Her brows pulling together, Bambi struggled to understand his request. “I-I can’t.” To say that would be a lie, which was why she’d left without a word. She never would have otherwise.
His features hardened, a fierceness she didn’t fully understand overcoming him. “What you did…” He closed his eyes, breathing deep as he visibly gathered strength before continuing. “I forgive you. Of course I do, but I won’t forget, dollface.”
“I understand,” she replied softly, her heart aching with remorse. Here with him now, under him, feeling his power over her again, she wished she could take it all back, get a redo somehow. She’d tell him everything, right from the start. They would have decided what to do next together.
Or maybe she was just living in a fantasy world. Sometimes, her heart didn’t listen to what her mind already knew to be true. Curtis was a brother, and his history wasn’t sparkling clean. He had been in and out of trouble his whole life, according to him. He ran from commitment and responsibility, with the only exception being the club.
And Bambi dreamed of a Disney happily-ever-after.
But she knew the harsh realities of life. The FBI had given her plenty of insight, especially when it put her on assignment with the Spartans. She’d witnessed the good, the bad, and the ugly of club life, and she’d gotten close enough to the flame to get burned. She should know better by now not to put her heart on the line, but it was already too late for that.
Hips flexing involuntarily—or maybe completely on purpose—Curtis didn’t even try to hold back his pained moan. “I want to fuck you so goddamn hard.”
“Then do it,” Bambi urged, surprised at herself for encouraging him when there was no way this could end well. They had so much water under the bridge, broken trust being among the biggest of their problems. But she wanted him. God help her, she wanted him so bad. It was as if all of those nights she’d tossed and turned, dreaming of this moment had finally come true. How could she turn him away now, when it was within her grasp?
“I don’t think you understand,” he said darkly. “I want to ram my cock in you so hard, you see stars. I want you to scream in pleasure and in pain. I want to hurt you, dollface, just like you hurt me.” He squeezed her breast again, releasing a warm rush of milk that soaked her his hand and her shirt. “I want to see your pretty face stained with tears while you beg for more.”
Yes! God yes, she wanted it. She wanted his rough hands on her body, his harsh words in her ears. She wanted this man and all his brutality. She welcomed the punishment, needed it.
“Is that what you want? Because if it’s not, say so now and I’ll walk back out that door.”
Her eyes widened in panic, remembering when he’d left early and how much that had hurt. She didn’t want that to happen ever again. “What about Beau?” Would he really just leave his son behind like that, just walk out of his life and never look back?
“Beau has me. No matter what, now that I know he exists and that he’s mine, I’m always going to be around. You just have to tell me how you want it to be.”
She didn’t fully understand his meaning,
but Bambi took it to mean that whatever happened next was entirely up to her. He was resting their future in her hands. Because she’d done such a great job of handling it so far, she thought sarcastically.
Instead of dwelling on past, though, Bambi recognized the opportunity he was giving her to start fresh, to put it all behind them and move forward.
“I want it. I want you,” she told him, her voice coming out steadier and stronger than she could have expected.
“Are you sure?” he asked, giving her one last chance to back out.
“I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure.” Reaching up, Bambi touched the side of his face, the coarse hair lining his jaw scratching her skin like sandpaper. “I’ve missed you so much,” she told him, holding onto her emotions with a death grip, determined not to let them get the better of her. “I’m so sorry for everything. Please stay.”
The best thing about Curtis, she’d found, was that for as badass as he was in the biker world, he was just as soft and freely giving of himself in hers. She had the sense that he showed her things about himself that he wouldn’t dare give to anyone else, things she suspected he’d only ever given to her.
Now, in this moment, he was looking down at her with the kind of softness she remembered all those nights ago in her old apartment when they used to steal moments together in secret. He’d risked so much to be with her then, just as he must be doing now.
He still wanted her, and even though she didn’t fully understand why, she wasn’t going to question it—not right now. This was a moment she wasn’t going to give up or overthink about. She wanted him, plain and simple, and she was going to take him anyway she could have him. Everything else they could figure out later.
Curtis seemed to be thinking the same thing as he sat back and tore her clothes off. Bambi was mildly self-conscious of her new body as he revealed her to himself, but the greed she witnessed in his eyes as he soaked in her rounded hips and softer curves alleviated any worries she had.
He liked her just the way she was. And his cock, leaping from his jeans as if it were spring loaded as he popped the button and pulled the zipper down, seemed to agree.
Fitting himself against her entrance, he stroked his cock, rubbing the head through her juices. “You did a bad thing, dollface. You disrespected me, and now I’m going to disrespect the fuck out of this pussy.”
He slammed into her without preamble, wrenching a scream of pleasure from Bambi’s throat. Arching beneath him, she braced herself for the onslaught of sensations as he pistoned his hips between her thighs, impaling her on his thick cock, hitting her cervix with each deep, powerful thrust.
In that moment, she was a slave to his every whim, willing to do anything and everything with a simple command. For what seemed like forever but lasted not nearly long enough, Curtis owned her, snatching her up and maneuvering her however he wanted. He took her on her back first, then pile drove her before flipping her onto her knees and taking her from behind. He fingered her clit, making her orgasm too many times to count, then stretched her aching pussy with his fingers while simultaneously fucking her. Even her breasts were not except from his merciless attentions. Sucking, squeezing, fucking, they took every bit of the same abuse her pussy did, and by the time he was through with her, Bambi was a boneless heap, completely wrung out.
Pinching her jaw between his thumb and fingers, Curtis kissed her hard, bruising her lips one final time before leaving her collapsed on the couch. When he returned, he tossed a warm, wet cloth onto her chest and said, “Clean up, dollface.”
Unsure what to think of his brisk delivery, Bambi began wiping herself down, starting with the dried milk coating her torso then lower, cleaning the mess he’d left between her legs.
Curtis was in the bathroom, having left the door open, giving her a view of him in the mirror over the sink. He didn’t look as happy as one might expect after such an explosive reunion. He dressed himself then turned on the water, bending down to splash some on his face. Bambi dressed too, now hyper aware of the tension filling the room.
She didn’t know what happened, but he was upset, and she didn’t know how to fix it. She wanted to go to him, ask him what she could do, but before she could, Beau let out a wail from the bedroom.
It was time for his nightly feeding, and her breasts, as tender as they now were, responded. “Dammit,” Bambi complained to no one in particular as she felt two fresh wet spots form on her shirt.
Emerging from the bathroom, Curtis took one look at her and smirked. “Go change while I get him.”
His delivery caught Bambi off guard, leaving her even more confused. He’d gone from being distant and contemplative to lighthearted and helpful. And considering the way he’d handled Beau initially, as if he were a bomb ready to detonate in his hands, she was even more surprised that he would volunteer to retrieve him.
But he did. Without another word or a moment’s hesitation, Curtis opened the bedroom door and went inside. The demanding screams were louder now, and Bambi rushed to the laundry room to grab a fresh T-shirt, knowing that there was no way in hell her boy would stop wailing until he got what he wanted. Grabbing the first thing she saw on top of the pile of clean but as yet folded laundry, she was ripping the shirt over her head when she realized the house had gone completely still.
Coming to a standstill, Bambi strained to listen, but her ears couldn’t detect any sound. Fearing the worst, despite the probability that nothing was wrong, she hurried back, practically skidding into the bedroom.
But the scene that was presented to her wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Standing beside the bassinette with his back to her, Curtis held Beau to his chest, on hand supporting his bottom and the other to the back of his round head. He spoke softly, his words getting lost in the air, but whatever he was telling him, it was working.
For the first time, Bambi wasn’t the only one in Beau’s world with the ability to soothe his temperamental little heart.
THIRTEEN
Moose didn’t spend much time in titty bars normally, but this was not a normal night. He was on a mission of sorts. Specifically, he was keeping an eye on his nephew.
Something was up with that kid. Tanner had been giving off some weird vibes lately, and Moose hadn’t exactly been blind to the way the brothers had been looking at him either, their eyes following him around like tracking devices whenever they occupied the same space.
He could almost see the invisible bullseye painted on Tanner’s forehead. The question was why it had been placed there to begin with. But his brothers weren’t talking. At least, not to him. Hence his unofficial solo recon mission.
Moose was going to get answers, come hell or high water.
“Can I get you a refill?”
Moose glanced up at the soft-spoken girl. She didn’t look old enough to be tending bar, but she had to be over twenty-one. Those were the rules, and since it was club owned, Spartan territory, he knew that one in particular had been followed to the letter. Quick was good about that kind of stuff.
“Nah, mouse, I’m good,” he said, looking her over. Angel was new to the club, tinier than all of the other women there, standing only a head taller than him while he was sitting down, and she was quiet. That’s why he’d taken to calling her mouse. Most would take her soft voice and small stature as weakness, but he’d been watching her for a while now, and there was more to her. She was one of those unexpected surprises.
“Are you sure?”
“If I have any more, I won’t be riding home on my own,” he replied with a good-natured chuckle. A pitcher was his limit, and besides, he wanted to keep a clear head tonight. It wouldn’t do any good if he got foggy and failed in his mission.
“I wouldn’t mind driving you home,” she said coyly.
Moose’s brows jumped up. “You coming on to me, mouse?”
His question must have caught her off guard, because Angel’s eyes grew wide as dinner plates and she made quick work of grabbing the empty pitcher and mug
from the table. “Oh, that’s not what I meant,” she insisted.
A tantalizing little strip of skin appeared as she leaned across the table to clear it, and Moose couldn’t help himself. The instant his fingertips made contact with the smooth, creamy pale skin of her hip, he felt a jolt of electricity shoot up his arm and wind a path down to his dick.
Instantly, he was rock hard and hornier than two-peckered billy goat.
“What did you mean, mouse?” Moose’s voice had grown deeper, darker with lust, and the look in Angel’s eyes when she turned to face him said she’d heard it too.
But that wasn’t all.
Facing him dead-on, Moose sat up in his chair, his excitement and desire nearly exploding the top right off his head. Her little nipples were hard under that barely-there shirt, pointing like arrows right at him. And the place was far from cold. In fact, with all the bodies and the lights and the sex, it was like summer in the bayou.
Angel was horny too. For him.
“I, uh, just meant if you needed someone to take you home, I’d be happy to help,” she said softly, and he almost felt sorry for the little lady. She was too pure for his world. Unfortunately, she’d already been tainted, stepping foot in it like she had.
Emboldened, Moose reached out and flattened one large hand on the outside of her thigh. His fingers wrapped more than halfway around. If he used both hands, no doubt he could lace them together. That alone had him picturing what it would be like to get her under him. She was so small, he might break her. His dick alone would need some greasing just to get inside her tight little sheath.
Fuck, he wanted her. More than his next breath, he wanted inside this little mouse. Vaguely, he remembered he was there for a reason, but hell if he could remember what that was just now. Moose had something new to keep his focus.
“You know, mouse, now that you mention it, I am feeling a little light headed,” he said. His hand skated up her thigh to her hip and up higher, stopped below her breast to wrap around her ribcage. She was breathing heavier than she should be. He smirked as he leaned down. “I think I could use a ride,” he murmured beside her ear. Then, because he enjoyed knowing he affected her, he wrapped his lips around the lobe, the silver metal hoops cool against his tongue.
BRASH: A Spartan Riders Novel Page 8
