Wolf's Claim: A Wolf Pack Motorcycle Club Book (A Breed MC Book 3)

by Anne Marsh

  He vaults over the edge of the boat and holds out a hand to me. “Come on.”

  “You’re a broken record.” I get up, though, and let him help me over the side of the boat. Just for the record, it appears I’m willing to follow him wherever he leads.

  He grabs my hand and pulls me after him along a narrow path. Good to know one of us must have a plan. A few minutes later, we step out of the tangle of trees. The swimming hole is downright pretty. Unlike the bayou, the water here is light and clear. I can see well beneath the surface. Perfect. No alligators, snakes, or other reptiles in sight. It’s just how I prefer my water.

  Blade drops my hand and heads for the water’s edge. Guess our walk is over. When his T-shirt lands on my feet, I pick it up automatically.

  “What are you doing?” I’d like to pretend the words come out calm and collected. I’m an adult—and it’s a reasonable question. Unfortunately, I’m way too busy staring at his chest. His collection of ink and scars compete with his muscles for my attention in a way that’s downright cruel. So many good things to look at—how am I supposed to pay them all their due?

  His mouth curves up in a smile.

  “It’s hot. I’m going for a swim,” he says as if that’s a perfectly reasonable thing to say. No one actually enjoys swimming in the bayou. The water’s brown, murky, alligator-infested, and infested with God knows what. It’s beautiful too, and the way the changing light reflects off its surface is something I treasure but swimming? No. So that’s why we’re… here? Good to know.

  Somewhere, somehow, though, he’s lost his boots. His hands go to his belt and I swear my heart stops for a second, right before it pounds into overdrive. He unbuckles and pops the buttons on his jeans.

  “You’re really going for a swim?” The sweat trickling down my back is driving me mad. It may be sexy in commercials when a woman has tiny droplets of moisture sliding between her tits, but I’m certain there’s nothing sexy about the way my cotton T-shirt is clinging to my skin. I’m dirty, I stink, and…

  “You bet. You coming too?” Blade’s jeans hit the ground. Much to my disappointment, his boxer briefs remain firmly in place.

  I might be coming, but not the way he meant.

  He jerks his chin toward the swimming hole. “The water’s safe.”

  I can’t help but notice that he makes no promises about himself. Fine. It’s been clear since, well, forever, that Blade wants us to have sex again. He strides toward the water, and I stare shamelessly at his ass. He has to possess the finest butt in the bayou. It’s tight and firm, and I’m almost certain that he’s left his boxer briefs on in deference to me because he’s a gorgeous golden-brown all over, not a tan line in sight.

  He should totally swim naked. I wouldn’t stand in the way of that plan. Before I can make the suggestion, however, he dives forward, his muscled form cutting effortlessly through the water. For long seconds, he’s just gone, swimming beneath the surface. Then he surfaces in a spray of water, laughing and scrubbing the water from his face. Those poor boxer briefs don’t stand a chance of hiding anything from me now.

  I have a bikini. If I’m being entirely honest, I have a dozen bikinis. But they’re inside in the cabin of my boat and that dare in Blade’s eyes makes me want to answer him right now. Adrenaline—and something else—surges through me and I yank off my T-shirt, dropping it on top of Blade’s. Toe off my flip-flops and slide my shorts down my legs. For a second, I consider shucking my underwear too, but Blade’s set this bar, and if we’re playing a game, I intend to win. Plus, today’s bra and panty set are pink, they match, and they do miraculous things for my boobs. There’s no point in giving up any advantage.

  Blade treads water, watching me. Waiting for me to come to him. He’s patient like that. If he were an animal, he’d be the kind that lies in wait, endlessly waiting for that right moment when his prey wanders by, oblivious to the threat, and then pouncing.

  And yet I don’t feel threatened at all. He makes me feel safe and not just physically. He’s simply there, making sure I have whatever I need, whenever I need it. He’s the one who smiles in the morning when I’m grumpy, who makes the coffee and brings it to me. Who I listen to at night when he’s asleep and I’m not. He steadies me, grounds me, makes me want to stick around just so that I can stay with him because I haven’t come close to learning everything about him and… I want to.

  I pad into the water, and he’s right. It does feel good. He lets me ease in, one inch at a time, without saying a word. His gaze lights me up, sets a fire going inside me. Only his powerful shoulders and his head are out of the water, so I can’t see the full effect my big reveal has, but I’m hopeful.

  “Take the plunge,” he says roughly, and I do.

  I throw myself forward with a shriek, almost forgetting to plug my nose or even close my mouth, and the water rushes up to greet me as I plunge beneath the surface, eyes open. His hands reach for me, pulling me up and anchoring me.

  “Hey,” he says, dragging me close.

  “Thought we were swimming.” Not that I’m complaining. My legs go around his waist as he grips me one-handed. While the water’s pleasantly cool, it’s nowhere near cold enough to quench his enthusiasm—his dick is noticeably, wonderfully huge beneath me. Apparently, my memory has not misled me.

  He curls a hand around the back of my neck, holding me still for his kiss. Kissing Blade is one of my favorite things to do. He takes his time, as if concentrating on me is the only thing he has to do, the only thing that matters. He slides his tongue into my mouth, tasting and licking, teasing and driving me crazier even as the hand cupping my head tangles in my hair. His mouth moves over mine, fierce and wild, not stopping.

  “I like this,” he says roughly when he finally pulls back, drawing a finger over the cup of my bra.

  “So do I,” I admit because who wouldn’t? This man of mine is wild and gorgeous. When he puts his hands on me and looks at me with all that heat and need in his eyes, I’m his, too. I’m not sure where he sees things going between us, but right now, right here, I’d sure like to steal this moment for us.

  “Need to tell you something.” His hand cups my breast and I’m on fire. Him shutting up—or kissing me—would be so, so much better than discussing our crap like adults. “We’re not a one time deal. The way we first hooked up wasn’t ideal. Hell, you were hot and you invited me out back, and maybe I should have said no when I said yes, but it meant something then, too. I haven’t got us figured out, and I don’t think you have either, but I want a shot. I’m not the kind of guy who sits back and waits for life to happen. I love fighting and I’m damned good at it, so you should know that I’ll be fighting for you.”

  “Did you think about me after that first night in the bayou?” I’m pleased the question comes out more pissed off than plaintive. I haven’t sat around waiting for this man to come back into my life. I’ve lived my life, got on with my shit. I’ve minimized my regrets.

  “Oui.” One word. Three teeny, tiny, sexy letters. That’s all he says, as if that’s enough. As if that covers all those days, hours, and nights between then and now.

  Maybe that is enough.

  Sometimes, I wish I could see into his head. Know what he is thinking about or where he’s been. He has old, old eyes, and he’s been plenty of places long before he ever came into my life.

  “It’s a nice thought,” I say and mean it, too. It is. I’m not sure I believe him, though. He’s right about one thing—he’s not the kind of man who sits around, pining for shit. Biker, fighter, balls-out rider—he makes shit happen. “What about the club?”

  He frowns. “That doesn’t come between us.”

  “How can it not matter? They call, you go. I know how it works.”

  “I made promises to them,” he agrees. “But I’m making you one now. I’ll never hurt you.”

  He floats on his back, me planted on top of his dick, and then that big hand urges my head down to his and he’s kissing me again. I don’t
know how he does it. I’m panting and squirming. I’m desperate for more but worried about the possibility of falling under. And Blade… he’s like a rock, a big, heated, way too sexy rock who holds me up and the delicious pressure of him is so perfect that naturally I want more.

  His fingers dip into the back of my panties, and an urgent now joins that mental more of mine. Forget conversation and figuring out what’s happening between us or where we go from here. Right now, the answer’s obvious. We’re having smoking hot sex in the middle of the swimming hole, and I’m totally onboard with that impromptu plan.

  He hooks his fingers into my panties and tugs. “So are we okay?”

  I think about it for all of a nanosecond. “Yeah. For right now, we are.”

  “Chère—” I love it when he talks French to me, but I can hear the argument coming. For some reason, he thinks we have a future together, or he at least wants to pretend that we do. Whatever. I’m done talking about our feelings and emotions. What I want right now has everything to do with the dick I’m straddling and a whole different set of feelings.

  I slap one palm over his mouth, hugging his hips with my knees because falling isn’t part of my plan. “Shut up.” I shove my other hand between us, tracing the thick outline. “Can we fuck now and talk later? Because I’d rather not discuss the future of our relationship when we could be doing other things.”

  He stares at me for one long second. The man has gorgeous eyes—his entire package is way too beautiful. Dark and heated, those eyes assess, and I have no idea what he reads on my face or if the lust I’m feeling for him is enough, but he nods slowly. And just in case he’s feeling at all reluctant, I drag my fingers up and down his erection. He’s so goddamned hot.

  And then I guess he’s done waiting and thinking, because one big hand palms the back of my head, pulling my mouth down to his for a soul-searing kiss, while his other hand gets busy doing dirty, dirty things to my very willing body.

  The hand in my panties squeezes and cups, moving lower. I moan and try to spread wider. We should have headed back to the boat. I have a bed there and this isn’t…

  One big finger finds my pussy and explores. He teases me, rubbing gently at first. He toys with me, and with each soft pass he makes, his dick presses against me, providing a delicious counterthrust.

  “Fuck,” he growls.

  Oh yes, please.

  I must say that last word out loud because he cups me with both hands, his fingertips slowly pressing in. The man has magic fingers. If we’d done this when we’d first met, I’d have tied him up and kept him.

  “Blade—”

  He gently pinches my clit, and I see stars. My body’s hosting its own private Fourth of July, and the way Blade lights me up is out of this world good.

  He doesn’t ask questions, but I know he’s listening to everything my body has to say. When I gasp and move, he follows my silent instructions, giving me what I like best. His fingers stroke gently up and down my clit, circling in a way that sends heat shooting through me. And then when he finds that one touch that makes me freeze in place because it’s so goddamned perfect, he does it again. And again and again.

  My wet panties go flying somewhere as the tension builds unbearably in me and he twists, pulling me into his arms as he jackknifes upright. God, the man has muscles. Somehow while he’s been driving me crazy, he’s not only steered us to shore, but he’s lost his boxer briefs too, which is the best possible accident because now the hot, heavy head of his dick rubs against my pussy. God bless the man for being a multitasker. He grasps my hips, raising me up. Instinctively, my legs lock around him, trying to keep him close. It’s not fair, the way he makes me feel.

  “This changes things,” he grunts. I’m not entirely sure what he means. Of course having sex changes things between us. It kind of makes us lovers as well as friends, but I’m not sure if that’s what he means. He watches me, his eyes dark with heat and need and something else I don’t recognize.

  I go for the easy out. “It does.”

  Before he can start talking again, I press my mouth against his chest, my hands roaming his body. His heart hammers beneath his skin and somehow knowing that at least one part of him isn’t in control makes me feel… better. I’ve heard stories about bikers and I know what goes down in their clubhouses. He’s probably fucked dozens of club groupies, ridden more women than bikes, and I don’t want to be one more in an overwhelming number. I’m not looking for a permanent relationship, but I’d also like to be more than just another notch on his bedpost.

  He sinks into me.

  His really, really, really big bedpost. Heh.

  He’s so beautiful naked, the muscled planes of his big body effortlessly holding me up, the dark lines of ink covering his arms.

  A dark smile lights up his face. “You gonna come for me?”

  “If you ever stop talking,” I whisper.

  He reaches down between us, his fingers finding my clit as he starts to push deeper into me, and then he curses.

  “Condom,” he snarls.

  Fuck. I freeze, not sure what to think or say. I’m on the pill, but do I trust him? Does he trust me? A million different thoughts run through my head, but I know one thing. I don’t want to lose this feeling I have with him right now. It’s not just the orgasm I want so badly, either. I can’t, won’t slap a label on it, but it’s… important.

  “I’m on the pill,” I tell him. “If—”

  “I’m clean, chère.” He pushes slowly deeper, his gaze never leaving mine. “If you’re okay with—”

  “Yes,” I whisper back.

  “Gotcha.” He rolls, taking me beneath him, and thrusts into me. As he makes a place for himself deep inside me, the pleasurable feelings come surging back with a vengeance, making me arch and squeal his name, my hands grabbing for his shoulders because they’re the only thing I have to hold onto as I come apart, my release rocking me hard and fast.

  Blade groans something against my face, thrusting faster and harder. I hold on, breathing him in as I slowly relax beneath him. God, he’s good. So much better than anyone else I’ve ever had, and I don’t think it’s just because he was my first. He’s my white knight and bad boy rolled into one, and right now, I’m a very, very lucky woman while this lasts.

  I watch his face greedily as he comes, his body tightening and stiffening over mine. His eyes close briefly, agonized pleasure replacing the look of fierce concentration for one long, beautiful moment. Slowly, I stroke his back, drinking in the moment as he comes back to me.

  The man’s just rocked my world, but I can’t help noticing a few things. The sun’s going down, taking its heat with it. We’re both wet, sandy, and missing a few pertinent articles of clothing. And since this is the bayou, the evening bugs will be feasting on us if we don’t get a move on. I try to wriggle out from underneath him.

  He doesn’t even have to move to stop me. “Going somewhere?”

  “Back to the boat? Before I become a mosquito snack?”

  He cups my face with his hands, brushing his mouth over mine. “I must not have done it right if you can still think.”

  “Braggart.”

  I feel his smile against my lips when he answers me. “No.”

  “Good,” I whisper.

  He flashes me a rough grin, and then he’s scooping me up and carrying me back to the houseboat where he proceeds to prove that what the man can do with his body, a bed, and unlimited hours should be illegal.

  Blade

  Fuck if I know how I got my happy ending, but look at me. I’ve been chasing Leah for two long weeks, trying to do the right thing by her. Spending time with her has been great, but the no-sex thing had sucked. When you want to get as close as possible, sleeping on the couch doesn’t cut it. Now I’m in her bed as close as close can be.

  Fucking perfect.

  “You really think she’d make an old lady?” Gator slams his shoulder into mine, driving me down onto the mat. We’re in my gym, working out
. Fighting techniques have changed some over the centuries, but the ruthless brute attacks I first learned still put a man on his knees. What worked for medieval knights works just fine in the biker world too. No point in drawing out a fight when you can end it.

  “Yeah,” I say, rolling until I have Gator on his back beneath me. He bucks, trying to unseat me. “Thought I’d ask her as soon as I’ve cleared it with Jace.”

  “Unbelievable,” he grunts, dislodging me. I spring to my feet, circling him. The brother’s got the kind of right hook that can put anyone down and out and getting the shit knocked out of me isn’t part of today’s plan. I have Leah to go home to, and she’s sure to notice bruises.

  “Why?”

  “How long we known each other?” he counters.

  “You planning on celebrating our anniversary? Think we might be up to diamonds or some such shit.”

  “Expensive date.” He whistles and grabs me, going for the chokehold. I don’t let him distract me. Gator’s strong, but I’m not going down, not today. Not when the universe is finally going my way. I strike hard with my left hand, breaking his choke as I grab his wrist.

  “No diamonds?” I take him back down to the mat and we grapple.

  “Not until you put out.” He winks at me and flips me hard. I hit the mat, air rushing out of my lungs. Asshole.

  “I’m off the market,” I tell him when I can breathe again. He rolls, trying to pin me once and for all, and I put him in an arm bar. See how he likes that.

  “Figured that out,” he grits out and… Fucker won’t stay down though. It’s one of his best qualities. “Just didn’t think you’d go that way.”

  “Something wrong with me?”

  He shrugs and wriggles like he got more from that fucking alligator than a few ugly ass scars. “You’ve never spent more than a week with the same woman. Had you pegged for a buffet man, to be honest.”