Jack of Spades: A Bad Boy Biker Romance (Spades MC Book 1)

by Rana Raynes

  He smiles at me, as if I'm being silly. “Why would you need any? There's no one here but us.” When he notices I'm still hesitating it seems to sink in that I'm bashful.

  “Oh,” he says as he understands how uncomfortable the suggestion made me. “Sorry. What about... if I promise I won't look.” He gives me a warm smile.

  I don't want him to think of me as too uptight, so I try to play it as a joke.

  “Do you expect me to believe that?” I say with playful indignation.

  Unsurprisingly Jay's quick on the uptake. He immediately follows my lead and glares at me in mock outrage. “What did I do that would make you doubt my word?”

  “It's just a hunch.”

  “I have no idea how you would get that impression.” He shows me a lovely fake pout. Then he leans down to kiss me again, gently.

  “Won't you give me a chance at least?” he pleads with puppy eyes. He's quite a good actor, you have to give him that. I can't help laughing about this adorable performance.

  “You mean the benefit of the doubt.”

  “U-huh.” His interpretation of an innocent expression is priceless.

  “Well then, maybe,” I concede and this time it's me who's kissing him. His hands rise to my hips, rest there, feather-light, casual. He lets me kiss him harder, deeper, without taking over, he just allows me to have my fill of him. Which is exciting. I think of Amber kissing Leon, the power she held over him. I don't know if it felt for her like it feels for me, but I can sense how he holds back, that he gives me this kind of control. He's close enough for the tension to register, that he's taut, high-strung. His self-control is a gift to me.

  “You don't have to come if you don't want to,” he whispers at last. “I didn't want to pressure you into something. I only meant to be encouraging.” He sounds serious. He sounds serious and I'm kind of thankful he's accepted my lack of enthusiasm as a definite No without much of a discussion. With Mike this would probably have ended in an argument. He never accepted me making my own choices when they contradicted his plans without a prolonged attempt to persuade me.

  “Okay,” I whisper back, relieved.

  Still I wonder why I'm so squeamish about this. It's only skinny dipping and I am prepared to have sex with him, am I not? Hell, I've been looking forward to that moment for days, lying awake at night, imagining him. And now this?

  “Would you mind if I jumped in to cool off a little?” Jay interrupts my soul-searching.

  “No, of course not.” I don't want to be a complete spoilsport. This is only about me and my misgivings and the fact that I don't want to undress in broad daylight in front of him. Not yet at least.

  He gives me another kiss and a warm smile, then he turns around to walk down towards the water. I'm really out of the dating routine. I'm excited as a teenager when I watch him stop at a large rock a good thirty yards from me to undress. He starts with his jacket, then takes off his boots and his socks. I hold my breath when he pulls his shirt over his head. The muscles ripple in his back, flex in his arms. His body looks like cut from marble but it's not as rigid and not as cold. His movements are supple, his skin is tanned. He's too far away for me to have a good look at his tattoos but he seems to have quite a few. I'm starting to regret my decision to stay behind. Then he starts unbuttoning his jeans and I remember my reasons. He pushes the jeans and his underwear down over his hips and presents me with the sight of a lovely firm butt.

  I lick my lips involuntarily. Fuck he's too hot to be allowed. Underwear-model hot.

  He seems absolutely unconcerned by his nudity as he strolls further down towards the water. He looks like an animal returning to the wild, to his natural element. Once he's reached the shore he's picking up speed. The water splashes around him as he runs into the lake without stopping, then finally he throws himself into it – and it looks like all the things it should be: fun, carefree, refreshing.

  I realize I want this too, have some thoughtless, uninhibited fun. To hell with shame and propriety. What do I have to lose?

  I walk down to the rock to undress. It grants me a little bit of privacy, at least while I get out of my clothes, quickly, in case the courage runs out. The sun is still pleasantly warm on my naked skin, not summer hot but warm enough. The water is cold at first. If I wore clothes I would stop to get used to it but naked as I am I'm more concerned with covering myself. So, just like Jay, I run into the lake until I reach deep enough water to take the plunge.

  It feels icy at first, like pins and needles, but after the first shock my body adapts to the chill and soon the water becomes soft like silk around me, smooth.

  Alerted to my presence by all the splashing, Jay turns around and watches me as I swim closer. He smiles at me when I reach him. It's a perfect expression of happiness.

  “Isn't it awesome?” he says.

  “It is,” I agree, spluttering a little.

  “I'm glad you reconsidered.” His face is open, unguarded. I'm not sure I've seen him like this before. Not even in between kisses. It's like catching a glimpse of the boy he must have been once, paddling around in the lake during his summer holidays, and I feel so much affection for this man, I can't even think straight.

  We swim out further, the sky wide above us. There's an odd kind of serenity here.

  “Do you come here often?” I ask.

  “As often as I can during the summer. Sometimes I sleep out here. I'm always thinking how nice it would be to have a little cabin somewhere at the shore. You know, sit on the porch when the sun sets, have a drink.”

  The thought of spending all summer out here is indeed wonderful. I imagine warm nights filled with kisses and booze, soft music playing in the background, the gentle shine of candles.

  “Today might be the last time for this year though.” Jay sounds wistful, almost sad and I understand the sentiment. I wish it was already springtime and the summer lay ahead of us.

  “It's rather late in the year for swimming. I hadn't even thought you'd suggest it. Otherwise I would have brought my bikini.”

  “It works fine like this, doesn't it?” Jay says. He must have noticed a change in my expression because he adds: “By the way, you want to get out of the water first? To get dressed I mean?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  I hope he doesn't think I'm a terrible prude. I just don't want this to get awkward. Or at least any more awkward than it already is to run out of the water, buck-naked and sopping wet, and hastily pick items of clothing from a pile to cover myself as quickly as possible.

  The essentials come first. I pull on my panties, then my bra. It's a bit of a struggle to get into my jeans. They're too tight for the wet skin, so I content myself with putting on my top. It will feel like I'm sufficiently dressed until the sun has worked its magic and dried me off enough to slip into the rest.

  “Okay, I'm dressed, you can come out now,” I yell down to the water. He waves at me to signal he's understood.

  I sit down on the rock, facing away from the lake. It's only fair to grant Jay the same kind of privacy, even though I don't think he'd mind if I sneaked a glance. He probably wouldn't object to me watching him either. Grinning about my silliness and double standards I imagine how he would look, coming out of the water, little droplets running over his skin, glistening in the sunlight as they're making their way through all the ridges and valleys of his torso. In my mind's eye I can see his muscles ripple as he is walking towards me with the slow smooth confidence of a large cat. I try to remind myself what this is – a distraction, a way to get over Mike at last, to erase the memory of Mike's sloppy kisses and clumsy touches. This is not serious.

  But isn't it?

  All the objections I have, all those fact-based reasons I've come up with to explain to myself why Jay and me not really a good fit for each other seem less and less important now. It's not just lust, I'm actually falling in love with him. There's this need for him inside me, a pull like gravity.

  When I hear his footsteps on the grou
nd, I immediately wish he would draw closer, lean over me, brush his lips over that sensitive spot where my neck dips into my shoulder. Anticipation is unfurling inside me, it makes my knees weak, my head fuzzy, it thrums through my veins with every beat of my heart.

  Perhaps he can sense it because he says: “You know you don't have to look away, don't you? I'm not shy.”

  “I just thought equal rights for everyone.”

  “I don't want to make you uncomfortable, that's all.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I can see him reach for his shirt. Turns out I'm too curious not to watch him. I slide off the rock, turn around and lean against it, as casual as I can. I don't want to show him how nervous I am about the whole situation.

  He's even more gorgeous up close. He's put on his shorts already so I missed out on seeing him completely naked but the sight of his torso is making up for that. It's not just his chest and stomach that are impressing, he's also got this absolutely mouthwatering V-line dipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. I want to reach out and touch it.

  He must have seen my hand twitch because he says: “You can touch me if you like.”

  I should not do it; I know it will cross a line I cannot uncross, but I can't help myself. I reach out and run my fingers over his skin. It's cold from the water but I can sense the warmth underneath, the energy radiating off him.

  “You know how much I want you, don't you?” he says, his voice rough with undisguised passion.

  I pull back my hand. I'm only fuelling the fire that will get me burned. Jay is watching me out of these intense blue eyes but I have no words to respond to this confession. Mike wasn't very vocal when it came to expressing his love for me.

  Jay makes no move to touch me in return, he just looks at me. There is something in his eyes, I couldn't describe as anything but hunger. My skin is tingling under his gaze.

  “I've been thinking about you all the time,” he says. “About kissing you again. Holding you. Probably I'm not the kinda guy you're looking for but I couldn't help it.”

  “Jay,” I say, unsure what I mean by it.

  Do I want him to stop? Of course we're not right for each other, everyone can see that. I'm only playing the biker chick for the job. Underneath I'm a down-to-earth woman who wants to go to law school as soon as she's got any idea of how to pay for it, then eventually have a house, kids. It's almost a stereotypical picket-fence lifestyle. Why would I want a relationship with a guy who's shady as fuck, prominent member of a motorcycle club that's got a vile reputation, and who repairs cars for a living. Maybe that's arrogant and prejudiced, but I don't exactly see us growing old together.

  And yet every fibre in my body is drawn to him, as if by magic. I want to kiss him and be kissed, feel his body pressing against mine. It's pretty much all I can think of right now.

  “It's okay if you don't feel that way,” he says but he doesn't avert his eyes. He's not ashamed of his desire for me and he must sense that I'm feeling the same. I'm a terrible liar.

  “No, it's not that...” I stutter. “It's just...”

  Perhaps he can't read me too well after all because a frown is creeping over his face. He seems concerned.

  “I shouldn't have brought it up. Not here at least, it's inappropriate.” He picks up his shirt and starts getting dressed. It's obviously a reaction to my inability to express myself properly. First the skinny dipping and now this. He must think he has overstepped a boundary and now he is giving me space, so I don't feel coerced. But space not what I want, not at all. I reach out again and touch his arm.

  He goes still when my fingertips come to rest on his forearm, lightly, timidly.

  “I'm sorry,” I say. “I didn't mean to imply... I don't think you're being inappropriate.”

  He looks at me quizzically, head cocked slightly to the side. I take a deep breath.

  “It's not that I'm not attracted to you too. It's just...” I pause again to clear my throat. Why is this so damn hard? “I fear it might be a very bad idea to give in to that attraction.”

  “Yes, I know the feeling.”

  “I still want to though,” I admit, despite myself.

  “Me too,” he says. I search his expression for clues of dishonesty, for anything really that could persuade me not to do what I'm about to do but I can't find anything, his face is open, almost vulnerable, and I can't stop myself: I take a step towards him, straight into his arms.

  And then we are kissing. This time there is no slow build up, no restraint. We clutch at each other with greedy fingers, groping, clawing at skin with mounting impatience. This time there's barely any fabric between us and I can feel him harden against me, his dick pressing hot and stiff into my belly.

  “Oh baby, the things you do to me,” he breathes into my ear, his hands are sneaking under my top, gliding up my back. I dig my finger into his butt, pulling him closer towards me. I can't remember the last time I wanted someone so badly. Every touch feels like sparks are erupting on my skin. My whole body is tingling with sensations.

  He drags his lips down my neck, covering the sensitive skin with open mouthed kisses while his hands fumble with the clasp of my bra. It's scary how well we match, we just started this and we've already established a rhythm, a sort of harmony. Every move prompts another, soon my top has come off, and my bra too, and I'm on my back on a hastily spread out picnic blanket with Jay lying half on top of me, kissing me and I'm kissing him back with the same urgency. I hold on to him, I want to touch him everywhere at once, his face, his soft silky hair, the wide firm expanse of his back, his perfect round butt. I push my hips up against him, revelling in the way he groans into my mouth at the feel of me squeezing myself against his erection. I didn't realize how starved I am for this, for the heat of naked skin on mine, a hard cock pressing into my leg. I want him inside me, I need him. Now.

  Jay's rubbing himself against me, automatically, unconsciously, while he keeps kissing me. At some point he tears himself away from my mouth and lets his lips wander, over the line of my jaw, the length of my neck, my shoulder, down my chest. He laps the water off my collar bone, then he proceeds to my breasts. A flash of heat surges up inside me when his tongue touches my nipple. He licks at it, then sucks into his mouth until I squirm and pant. Apparently satisfied with the result he lets his mouth glide deeper, over my stomach to the waistband of my panties.

  I freeze a little when I realize what he's intending to do – Mike hated going down on me, and he didn't get tired of showing me how much he disliked it. He never missed an opportunity to portray it as a favour and even one I didn't truly appreciate.

  “You never come like this anyway,” he used to complain after his clumsy and consequentially fruitless attempts, and the pressure didn't exactly help either. So eventually I ended up filing oral sex under activities I simply didn't enjoy, a notion that is hard to get rid of, now that it somehow has become ingrained in my brain.

  But Jay isn't Mike, he's paying attention to my reaction and notices something is off when I go tense beneath him.

  “What's wrong?” He's looking up at me. His usually sleek hair is tousled, his eyes gleaming are feverishly, his lips are slightly swollen from kissing. It's distracting to see him like this,

  “Nothing, I just... I don't...”

  “Do you want me to stop?” He's tracing the seam of my panties with the tips of his fingers but it's a thoughtful kind of touch, asking, not demanding.

  “No, I… You don't have to do this, I mean...”

  He frowns at me. “You don't doubt I want to, do you?”

  I bite my lip and shake my head but he doesn't seem convinced of my sincerity.

  “I want to taste you.” It's more of a purr than anything else, a deep sensual sound, so full of animal urges it makes me shiver. It's touching a cord inside me, something primal.

  “I can't wait to lick your wet little pussy and lap at you until you come. God, baby, you have no idea how crazy I am about you.”

  He bites the wor
ds out between clenched teeth like a groan, as if it takes every ounce of control to ask for this. It's intoxicating. It's the very opposite of how Mike made me feel about myself. My resistance is melting away. Automatically I spread my legs further for him.

  “Okay,” I breathe.

  His face lights up in a smile before he lowers his head, shifting the focus of his attention. He pulls my panties aside, exposing me to his gaze. He gives a low hum as he runs his fingers over my pussy, so very very softly. Then he ducks his head and I hold my breath.

  The first touch of his tongue is gentle. He licks a wide stripe upwards. It's hard to lie still, I wish I had something more solid to hold on to than the thin picnic blanket I've twisted my fingers into. He makes another content sound in the back of his throat, a near purr of pleasure, soothing my lingering fear that he's only doing this because he thinks I expect him to, that really he finds it disgusting to kiss me like this.

  But to be fair he doesn't behave like that at all, he laps at me with enthusiasm, as if I'm the best thing he's ever tasted and he wouldn't want a drop of my wetness go to waste. There's no reserve in the way he eats me out and I'm positively shaking when his tongue finally finds my clit. He laps at it, purposeful, confident, and I can't suppress a moan at the sensation. It's too good, how the jolts of pleasure flash up under his tongue, how they shiver through my thighs, my whole body. I feel tense and tenser, as if he's winding up some hidden clockwork inside of me.

  He pushes a finger into me, slowly, carefully, and I moan again. My toes curl with the sheer pleasure of it. I gasp when he adds a second finger, pressing them up to the rough spot inside me, rubbing and teasing. How can anyone be so good at this, especially the first time?

  It only takes a few minutes until I'm so close, I'm hovering at the brink of orgasm like an acrobat walking a tight rope. All of my world is swaying, I'm shaking with arousal, my muscles are quivering. I tighten around his fingers, his tongue is almost painful on my clit. He must be aware because he gives another satisfied hum, and then at last something inside me snaps and I'm coming. Waves of pleasure are running through me, and he keeps stroking me through them, his fingers wedged inside me, his tongue working my clit in a steady rhythm until I can't stand the stimulation anymore. Gently I push him away.