by Anne Marsh
Yes. Yes, I am.
“We’re more friends with benefits than a couple-couple.” He certainly didn’t mention that this was a couples-only shindig, and some of the women (including the two currently dancing on top of a picnic table) certainly look like they’re not taken. I’m pretty sure that if I went over and asked to dance, they’d let me join their happy group—and maybe do other things as well.
“Yeah.” Keelie Sue seems to be feeling her way.
“Are you—with Jace?” I suck at remembering names and relationships, but I seem to remember that she was glued to the snarly biker’s side earlier.
She grins. “He’s my mate.”
And—yuck. I try to think of a polite way to back the hell away. Not only am I not into the whole committed relationship thing, but that particular word will never be part of my vocabulary. When I hear mate, I expect a cave man to come strolling out. Do a little chest-beating. Toss the little woman over his manly shoulder. It’s almost as bad as the bikers’ preferred term of old lady for their girlfriends.
“Congratulations?” I’m pretty sure I say that too late. Sadly, it’s hard to work up enthusiasm for Keelie Sue’s revelation.
Marlee makes a choking noise. “We’re not making a good impression, are we? Maybe we should just drink? And not talk about guys?”
Keelie Sue makes a face. “Well, let’s not talk about Jace when we could be talking about you and Blade.”
“There’s no us.” I may gesture a little too vehemently with my glass. Some of the lime-green slush goes flying.
Keelie Sue and Marlee exchange glances, but Keelie Sue’s the one who takes a stab at what they’re both clearly thinking. “And Blade’s okay with being friends with benefits?”
This is the problem with trying to explain a relationship to other people—shit gets complicated fast. Still, I try.
“I’m not looking for a relationship. There are people who walk into an ice cream place and go straight for a triple-scoop chocolate cone. Same thing every time, right? And the more the better? I’m the person who wants to dig her teeny-tiny taster spoon into every single free flavor there is. Usually, I don’t date a guy more than once.”
Keelie Sue glances at the clubhouse currently housing my friend-with-benefits. Glances back at me. Forget adding two and two together—she’s doing some kind of sickeningly advanced calculus in her head that I don’t have a hope in hell of comprehending.
“He’s not your mate,” she says.
“Nope.”
“And you don’t want him to be.”
Yeah, I laugh out loud at that one. “I couldn’t be less interested. I don’t do permanent things.”
“And he doesn’t mind that you might go taste the ice cream one of these days?” She sounds skeptical.
“Name a flavor,” Marlee promptly says.
“You want to know what I’m licking?” This is definitely what happens when you drink margaritas in the sunshine, because all three of us find this hysterically funny. Keelie Sue laughs until she snorts her drink up her nose, which is so gross that I laugh harder. On the other hand… why not play show and tell with them?
“This is the last cone that I licked.” I whip out my phone and turn it around so she can see my trophy shot. T.D. is a good-looking guy—and the lack of a shirt puts my picture firmly into keeper territory. I may not plan on tasting him again, but I have no problem with looking.
“Leah was telling us about her favorite ice cream flavors,” Marlee hiccups as Ware walks up and pulls her back against his chest. She snuggles right in as if he’s her Sleep Train mattress and he’s dialed to her favorite number. The man behind Ware might be mine. Blade’s so hot.
“Licking,” I tell him, trying to keep a straight face. “Your girls are very interested in where my tongue has been.”
Tequila and me will never be besties. Hand me a margarita and suddenly I’m viewing the world through some really awesome, really hazy tequila goggles. I don’t think I’ve embarrassed Blade—I’m not the only person at his club party who’s knocked back more than her fair share of booze.
Big hands pluck the margarita glass out of mine. “You want to give me the Cliff Notes?”
“Nope. Hi.” Yes, I beam up at Blade like I’m a pair of high-beams. I blame it on the margaritas. Keelie Sue does not know how to pour light.
“Hey, chère.” He actually pats me on the butt.
I have to think about this for a moment, because drinking on an empty stomach has seriously impacted my critical thinking skills. Since Blade’s hand doesn’t linger and no one else seems to notice, I decide to give him a pass. I do, however, smack his ass. Hello. Medieval Man needs to move into the current century.
“Are you all done with your meeting?”
“Jesus.” He takes a sip out of the glass and winces. “Tell me all about the licking.”
“Man candy,” Marlee confides. “We’re talking about licking man candy. Show him the phone.”
She’s such a troublemaker. I kind of like her.
Well, I like her until Blade tugs my phone out of my hand and makes that growling sound in the back of his throat.
Blade
If Leah wants to lick someone, I’ll volunteer.
Do I fucking taste bad? What’s wrong with me? The picture on her phone is of goddamned T.D., smiling at what looks like his bathroom mirror as he snaps a selfie. He’s not wearing a shirt—cocksucker—and his jeans hang low on his hips. He’s popped the top button and has the thumb of his non-phone-bearing hand tucked into the open waistband. T.D.’s a tease. She could do so much better. Ergo, I’ll help her out. I thumb through Leah’s phone, cleaning house. When I finish up here, she won’t have a single picture of T.D. left. I’m downright helpful like that.
Not seeing shit the same way, Leah tries to snatch her phone back. Since I’ve got about fourteen inches on her, she doesn’t stand a chance. “That’s mine.”
“We’ve discussed this. He’s trouble you don’t need. That’s why you broke up with him and traded up to me.”
Leah actually splutters. Keelie Sue, on the other hand, looks interested, which means I’m gonna hear shit from Jace. If T.D. is really setting himself up as an Alpha, snatching his girl won’t play well. Too bad I’m not willing to take one for the team—Leah is mine. She just doesn’t know it yet. And honestly? Even after she knows it, I’m betting it takes her another year (or three) to admit it out loud.
In the meantime, there’s one problem I can fix. I wrap an arm around her, pulling her into my side, and hold the damned pink phone up in front of us. “Now fucking smile for the camera. You need spank bank material, use this.”
Yeah. I’m officially crazy.
Keelie Sue laughs and chugs the rest of her drink.
“You’re unbelievable,” Leah mutters.
Right back at her.
She makes another grab for her phone and I nip her ear. Hard. “Don’t push me in public.”
She sucks in a breath and twists under my arm, trying to break free from my hold. Her dress twists and tightens, revealing the curve of her stomach. All that smooth, soft skin calls to me, practically begs for me to mark it with my mouth, my teeth—my come.
She bucks harder, as if she’s reading my mind. Dirty girl. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“You remember that conversation we had after you stole my bike? The one where I told you I’d be giving you orders if it kept you safe?”
Naturally, Leah remains stubbornly silent. She’s not gonna give me an inch here, which is just too fucking bad for her.
“This is one of those times,” I growl.
She keeps wriggling, trying to break free, but all this accomplishes is giving me a view down the front of her dress. She’s wearing one of those padded bras beneath it, the cups scooping her tits up like ice cream in a cone, and the urge to lick her is almost irresistible. Pull that pretty fabric down and replace it with my hands. Lick over the soft curves and suck her nipples into my
mouth until she’s grinding against me. Probably shouldn’t think about shit like that when we’re not actually naked and alone, but damned if I can stop. Keelie Sue and Marlee are staring at us, and we’re starting to attract attention from the rest of the club. I’ve fought hard for the respect I’ve earned, and I’m not losing it now because I can’t keep my woman in line.
“I claim you, Leah Holmes.”
Keelie Sue stiffens. “Blade—”
“You’re not my Alpha,” I tell her, hauling Leah closer still.
“Not mine either,” Leah growls back, flashing me her middle finger. Unfortunately for her, I can definitely work with that particular suggestion.
“Just as soon as we get home, baby.”
Before she can retract the offer, I suck the tip of her finger into my mouth. She freezes, as if she didn’t see it coming. I nip lightly and then let her go.
“Are your panties wet?”
“You. Are. A. Pig.” Leah spits out each word like a bullet.
Keelie Sue is about to explode, trying to hold in her laughter. Nice to know she’s so supportive.
“I claim you,” I repeat. Everyone around us is listening. An engraved wedding invitation might have been simpler, because Leah’s just glaring at me like I shit in her sandbox. For her, claim is a slightly offensive dating term, the biker equivalent of a dog pissing on a tree to mark his territory. Mate claim is so much more than that. I’d had no idea how right it would feel, or that I’d even meet a woman who made me want to go all in for her. To pledge myself heart and soul because just being this close to her has all these unfamiliar feelings stirring inside me. For her, I’d like to pretend I’m just a human guy and that I can go down on one knee, pop the question, and produce a big-ass diamond ring.
“Hello, big guy? I’m not a fucking coat.” Sometimes, she makes no sense. She may not understand me, but that understanding’s a two-way street, and I’m road kill.
“Language.” I steer her toward the exit. Oui, I need to get her home.
“Like you should talk,” she mutters, but she lets me lead her. I wonder if she realizes that she’s following me, her body trusting mine instinctively. And that I’m pretending I’m her choice. That she wants to go where I go, wants to tuck her fingers in mine and let me pick tonight’s direction.
The club prospects watching the bikes give us respectful nods when we get close. The prospects are wanna-bes, guys jonesing to ride with us and be brothers. They serve for six months, doing whatever shit we tell them. A club’s only as good as its members, and while the jury’s still out on Jace, our new Alpha is being damned careful about who he lets in. You earn your place in the pack. No one hands you a patch and the keys to the fucking front door. One bad wolf and the club’s name is shit—so we take our time deciding if you stay or if you go.
I thank the prospect closest to my bike and swing onto the seat. Leah shimmies into her jeans and jacket, and then she’s there behind me, her legs hugging my hips as her arms slide around my waist. Maybe she rests her cheek against my back for a moment and I like that way too fucking much. I pass her a helmet and wait for her to gear up. Safety first, right? Flicking the prospect a salute, I pull out of the parking lot.
It takes way too long to get back to her place, and as soon as we pull up, I hustle her inside and close the door. Lock us in together too, and then I get busy. I lick and kiss my way down her neck. When I reach the vee of her dress, I tug. “Take this off for me.”
She hesitates, but she doesn’t say no.
“You want me to do it for you?”
Her eyes darken. “Yes. Yes, Blade.”
My name on her lips drives me wild. I’m not some nameless, one-time wolf in her arms. I’m me—and I’m also hers. I pull her dress over her head in one smooth move and toss it on the floor. And then I scoop her up and carry her to the bed because the floor’s fine for me but not for her. She deserves everything I can give her. She’s smiling when I lay her down and I tuck the image away, wanting to keep it forever.
When I undo her bra, I have to bite back a groan. Her tits are gorgeous, the nipples hard and begging for my touch. Okay. Not begging but the fantasy makes me harder still. I lean down and suck one rosy tip into my mouth, sucking and nipping lightly. She likes this because she sort of squeals my name, her hands tugging on my head. When I tongue her again, her hands slide over my shoulders. So fucking perfect.
Bet she could come for me just like this.
The first time I had her, I shoved my dick deep inside her. Rode her hard and raw. Not a night I could ever forget because it was fucking amazing, but I plan to do even better with each new chance she gives me. My hands find the waistband of her panties.
“You don’t like something, you tell me.”
“No kidding.”
I drag her panties down her legs and off. She’s got the prettiest, silkiest skin, just begging me to eat her up. Or maybe it’s the way she stares up at me, like she can’t wait to have me on her and in her, all hot and sweet and greedy at the same time. She’s right here, waiting for me to strip her bare.
“Today was good,” she says. I just grunt because how the fuck am I supposed to think now she’s naked and I’m inches from her pussy? Only thoughts left in my head are a list of places to start—and finish. She wiggles, getting comfortable, and I wrap a hand around her thigh, pulling her open.
“Blade? I think—”
“Shhh. Getting busy here.” We can discuss whatever she wants later. She moans as my fingers slip over her skin, tracing her curves. Just looking at those gorgeous curves is a treat.
“Please?” She shifts restlessly, arms reaching for me.
“Got something to do first,” I tell her, pulling her hands out to her sides. “Hold still for me.”
Her hands flutter, clutching at the sheets.
“Good girls get rewards.” I run my hands down her sides, over her hips and thighs. Follow my touch with my mouth, showing her what I mean. Her tits taste amazing, but so are her belly, her hip, the soft crease between the bone and her pussy. I shove her abandoned clothes off the bed and onto the floor. Nothing’s getting in my way now. I drag her to the side of the bed and drop down on my knees on the floor. “You think about that.”
Some people like looking at mountains or oceans, spectacular geological shit that’s so goddamned gorgeous or big or in your face that you can’t not notice. My view of Leah beats all that. I spread her legs wide, holding her open for my gaze. She squeaks as if she hadn’t planned on playing show and tell with her pussy but she’s too beautiful to hide. I stroke my fingers down her slick folds, sinking into sweet, wet heat.
“Beautiful. You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“Blade. God.”
Time to show her. I cover her pussy with my mouth, kissing every delicious inch. She arches up, digging her butt into the mattress as if it’s almost too much. Her heels push into my shoulders as she wiggles closer, looking for just the right spot. I’m happy to help her, wrapping my hands around her thighs, dragging her up and close. My tongue parts her folds, my mouth licking, sucking, nipping. Driving her as crazy as she makes me because that shit’s only fair.
There’s no space at all left between us.
I devour her, not holding back, and she feels so fucking amazing. And since I’m so close, I’ve got firsthand knowledge of just how wet I’m making her. She’s soaked. I slide a finger into her, pushing deeper. Her pussy milks me, hanging on for all it’s worth, as if I’d ever back off or leave. She may be mine, but that also means I’m hers.
Thank. Fuck.
I lift my head so I can watch my fingers tunneling into her. “Tell me yes. Tell me what you want.”
She pants something in no language I’ve ever heard. Her fingers abandon the bed, tearing at my hair, digging into my back. “You,” she groans.
Fucking perfect answer right there.
I pump two fingers into her, working her, as I find her clit with my lips. She helps me out, pushing he
rself against my mouth, riding my face for all she’s worth. I circle that one spot that drives her crazy, licking and tonguing. Pausing to suck her hard enough to make her see stars.
She comes with a long moan, thighs tightening around my face, heels dragging me close. My dick’s so hard I’m about to come just from rubbing up against the bed and nothing I’ve ever done with anyone else can compare to this. To making her feel good, to knowing I’m the one she trusts to hold her, push her, see her through this thing. I stand up and ease her back into the middle of the bed.
She rolls over onto her side, watching dreamily as I get busy pulling off my own clothes. Boots, jeans—I make short work of it all. And then I’m fishing a condom out of my pocket and crawling over the bed to her. I tear open the packet, roll it on, and cover her.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” She smiles up at me, looking dazed.
“Good.” I brace my arms on either side of her head, my fingers playing with her hair. “Got something else for you.”
She nods. “I can feel it.”
“Oui?” I flex my hips, easing forward.
She wraps her legs and arms around me and I work myself inside her. Kiss her as I do because this slow, sweet drive is fucking perfect and I don’t want it to end. I push until I’m all the way inside her. She sighs, making room for me. She’s tiny and I’m big, but somehow we fit together just right.
“Yes.” She squirms beneath me, angling her body to take me just a little deeper.
“Fuck, yeah.” I move forward, filling her up, shoving her down into the mattress. Pull back nice and easy, then slide back home. I work myself inside her with steady strokes, falling into a rhythm as sure as any sword work. This is what I’ve spent my life working and waiting for. This woman, this space we share together, is my pack. My home. My place in life.
I kiss her, sliding my hand down between us to stroke her clit gently. I’m never leaving her behind again.
“Blade—”
“Oui.” I move over her, bracing one arm beside her head. I explore her with the other, dragging my palm over her soft curves, learning her. “You’re beautiful.”
