by Nicole James
“You okay?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Spread your legs for me.”
She did.
“Wider.”
He opened a drawer and pulled out two black bandanas. Turning back, he bent and wrapped one around her ankle, pulling it tight and tying it to the foot of the bed. Then he did the same with the other until she was spread wide, leaving her completely open and vulnerable.
“Blood?” she began nervously.
“Easy, girl. Relax.” He stroked her ass and up over her back until her breathing evened back out. “Take a deep breath.”
She did as he told her.
“I’m not gonna tie your hands, just your legs. All right?”
“All right.”
“You okay now?”
She nodded.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, Cat. This is about pleasure, about you giving yourself over to me, giving me the control. You want to stop, we stop.”
He continued stroking her skin and massaging the tense muscles of her back, then down to her hips and buttocks and upper thighs until she was groaning, her body totally relaxed.
“Good girl,” he murmured. With one palm he continued to stoke down her spine; the line of her back was graceful and enticing, as her torso lay stretched out across the mattress. He wanted to trace every inch of her luscious, silken skin with his hands, his tongue, to mark her with his teeth. He visualized the many ways he could take her, and his dick jumped. He took a breath and reminded himself they had time.
His other hand slid up the inside of her thigh, slowly, fingers finally reaching their goal.
She bucked.
“Easy, girl.”
He slid his fingers inside her pussy, finding her wet. “Such a good girl. Feel how wet you are for me. Your body wants my touch, craves it, yeah?”
“Yes.”
He took her wetness and spread it around her clit and folds with slow, gentle strokes.
She moaned, arching her back, thrusting her ass into the air, seeking more of his touch and pulling against the restraints. “You like the way I touch you?”
“Yes. Oh, God. Please.”
“More?”
“Yes.”
He bent and gave her the wet velvet stroke of his tongue on her clit.
“Oh, God.” She writhed.
He loved that reaction, loved when he was able to break down the walls of a woman’s inhibitions. “Look at you, baby. Making yourself so open and vulnerable for me. Do you know what that does to me?”
She shook her head.
Dominance was in his nature; it ran in his blood. He got off on it. The thought of her doing this with anyone else flashed through his brain and with it a white-hot surge of possessiveness. That was something that was not in his nature, at least not until Cat. She was changing everything.
He took in another deep breath. He’d never had this type of intense reaction to a woman. She was quickly getting under his skin in a way he knew he’d never get her out.
He played with her, stroking swirling patterns over her clit and slipping his broad thumb up inside her pussy. He zeroed in on that little spot that drove her crazy and pressed. With her hips pushed up against the top rail of the footboard, she had nowhere to go to escape it, and he knew that pressure just increased any sensation he was able to give her.
He applied pressure with his thumb inside her, while his fingers kept up long steady strokes to her clit. She went wild, her thighs trembling, her ass lifting as she tried to rub against his fingers, coaxing him on.
“You like that?”
“Oh, God. Don’t stop. Please.”
He kept at her, until she was climbing that precipice.
“Pinch your nipples,” he ordered, and she complied.
She was panting hard and then gasped in and held it; he knew she was almost there. He smacked her ass with his free hand, and she screamed as she climaxed, coating his hand with a rush of wetness.
He eased his hand from her and licked his fingers, then bent and lapped at her swollen lips.
She moaned, her hips tilting, her ass tipping, her pussy straining toward his mouth. He tickled the soft skin of her inner thighs with his beard and chuckled. “My baby’s greedy.”
He stood and stripped off his clothes, ordering her, “Don’t move.”
She lay there, waiting so patiently for his next command. He loved that about her. She wanted to please him. He was about to take her up on that.
He climbed on the bed in front of her, positioning himself on his knees at her head. “Up on your elbows.”
She did what he said, tilting her head back to look up at him. Her breasts stood out, jiggling softly with her breathing. Beautiful.
He cupped her chin, his thumb pressing on her lips as he positioned the head of his cock there. “Open for me, baby.”
She complied, straining to reach him. She took him in, her sweet tongue caressing the bottom of his cock, sliding like silk over it. He had to grit his teeth and fight the urge to close his eyes.
She lapped and sucked and drank at him with wanton abandon until he couldn’t resist taking control.
He gripped his fists in her hair and began thrusting in and out of her mouth. She moaned, and his eyes watched her breasts bounce with his motions.
“Oh, Cat,” he panted as he controlled her head, increasing his speed. “Fuck baby, what you do to me.” He growled deep in his throat, trying to hold back, make it last, but the sight of her stretched out before him was making it impossible.
“You want my cum?”
She opened her eyes, and he let up on his grip, giving her room to nod her head a tiny bit.
He grabbed her hand and put it to the root of his cock, allowing her some control, if she wanted to pull back. Then he thrust, went still and came. She sucked him dry, taking every drop.
“Goddamn, girl.” He dropped back, pulling free.
She laid her head on the mattress, and he stroked her hair while he regained the strength in his legs. Then he slid off the bed.
She turned to look at him, her eyes following his every move. If she expected him to untie her, she was wrong. Instead he held her eyes as he dipped his head and nipped her ass cheek with his teeth. She jumped.
He grinned and smacked her ass, then began to play with her again. While he did, he stroked and worked his dick.
Soon she was writhing, rocking back against his hand, he dipped his head and ate at her pussy, giving her the attention she craved until she was bucking against his face, crying out her need, begging him to take her. That ramped up his arousal until he was rock hard again and wanting nothing as badly as he wanted to sink his dick in her and fuck her hard.
He took her ponytail in his hand, wrapping it around his fist and pulling her head back. “Up on your palms.” She did as he asked without hesitation, her back curving in a beautiful arch.
He brought the head of his dick to her opening and circled it, driving her crazy.
“It’s not fair. I can’t touch you.”
“This ain’t about being fair, Cat. This is about me being in control. I want to do what I want. I want to play with you, put my hands on you, my fingers in your pussy, my mouth on your clit and lick until you can’t hold back any longer and you come on my face.”
And he did all those things, and she could do nothing but lie there, wriggling her ass. He wanted her desperate for it, so hungry for his dick she’d do anything for it.
“Do you like this? Me being in charge?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he managed to say, fighting the need to take her hard and fast. “God, I want to fuck you.”
“Please.”
“You ready for more?” He knew she was.
“Yes. Yes.”
He slid deep, filling her completely, his strong hands wrapping around her hipbones and pulling her back against him as he thrust into her. With every stroke, he glided over that sweet spot until she was calling out hi
s name.
He kept a firm hold on her hair and watched her breasts bounce as he continued to drive into her. He shifted, pushing and pulling her hips to meet his pounding thrusts, their skin slapping against each other.
He dropped one hand and played with her clit again, and she fired off like a piston, humping his hand and begging him not to stop.
When she climaxed, she screamed and that snapped his control. He lasted only two more deep thrusts, and then he stilled, planted deep inside her as his entire body shook, and animal growls rumbled in his chest as he closed his eyes and came.
His knees went weak. He bent over her, still firmly seated in her pussy, and bit the back of her neck, unable to resist the urge to mark her smooth skin. She was his.
She whimpered, and he kissed the spot, and then pulled from her.
“You okay, pretty girl?”
She nodded as he stroked her skin, then bent and released the ties binding her. She curled in a ball in the bed, and that gave Blood pause. Had he gone too far with her? He hadn’t meant to. This was just supposed to be a taste.
He moved to the bed, hovering over her with one hand planted in the mattress near her head. He smoothed his other hand over her trembling skin. “Baby—“
“It’s okay.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’ve never felt like that before.”
“You were beautiful. So willing to please me.”
She turned and looked up at him. He hoped the feelings he had for her were reflected in his eyes. They were so strong; he didn’t know how they couldn’t be.
She reached up her small hand, cupped the back of his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers. He complied, kissing her softly, tenderly, trying to show her everything he couldn’t say.
***
Blood stood in the shower as Cat dozed in his bed, his mind going over every minute he’d spent with her and everything that had passed between them since she’d walked into his life. What the hell was he doing? He should put a stop to it. But he didn’t want to, wasn’t even sure he could. It was that strong, that powerful, a primal need that defied anything that wanted to stand in its way. So, he did the only thing he could. He accepted it. Flat out accepted it. And in that moment he made the decision. This was it for him. He was all in. And he was damned if he’d let her be anything less than the same.
He heard the bathroom door open. A moment later, she stepped in with him, her eyes taking in the expression on his face as he turned to look at her. He’d been struggling with it all and perhaps that was clear to her, but he tried not to let on. Instead, he smiled, and she pressed close to him, her smile bright as the sun, mirroring that same absolute, all-in position right back at him. And he felt everything inside him settle, all the puzzle pieces fall into place.
They were both in this, together, exactly on the same page. No doubts. None.
He felt bathed in a golden light, completely sure for the first time in his life. Settled. Everything inside him evened out; all the darkness, all the agitation, and all the tension fell away like a heavy weight dropping to the floor.
He held her close, his eyes unfocused on the distance. There were still things to be settled, still problems that had to be handled. Things he needed to fix.
But then she pulled back and looked at him, giving him a squeeze, and as he brought his mouth down on hers, he thought he’d let those problems wait another hour.
This time when they pulled back, breaking the kiss to stare into each other’s eyes, she lifted her chin at him like he had to her a dozen times. She smiled. He lifted his chin back at her, returning the smile. Yes, they were one now.
An alpha and his mate perfectly matched.
“Baby?”
“Yes?”
“Promise me something.” He cupped her face in his hands, dipping his forehead to hers. “When times get rough, and they will, I want you to go back to this moment. The moment when we realized we were meant to be together and when times get rough, you hang on to this moment.”
She gave him a tremulous smile, her eyes filling with tears, and she nodded. “Promise.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Blood and Cat strode into the clubhouse. He paused to tell her to wait for him while he dealt with his club, then he went up to Undertaker’s office and tapped on the door.
“Come in,” barked his President.
Blood entered to find Undertaker behind his desk, his VP, Mooch, as well as Sandman, were kicked back in the chairs in front of it.
“Where the hell you been?” Undertaker bit out. “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again.”
Blood’s eyes cut to Sandman, wondering how much he’d told him. Didn’t matter, Blood wasn’t going to lie to his President. “I found something I can use to negotiate with Black Jack. He’s got Holly. Sandman tell you he’s working with the Death Heads?”
“Yeah, he told me. And we’ll get to that in a minute. What I want to know now is why you think you can just take off without talking to me.”
“Sorry. Clock’s ticking.”
Undertaker ran his hand down his beard and adjusted in his chair. “Yeah, Friday. I heard.”
“The cell phone and laptop… They find anything on ‘em we can use?”
“Ton of shit about Black Jack’s businesses. Not much about the Death Heads. There were some texts about a meet Friday, a time and location. I’ve got some of the boys doing recon on it now. If it’s a meet with the Death Heads, we’ll be ready with a little ambush of our own.”
“Sounds good.”
“So you contact Black Jack yet?”
“Texted him. Waiting for a response.”
“You get one, we all plan the next step.”
“I get Holly and kill Black Jack. Done deal. There’s nothing to discuss. Club can’t let him live. Not if he’s dealing with the enemy.”
“Son…”
Blood looked at the man who was more of a father to him than his own ever was. Undertaker had been the dominant man in Blood’s life since he was a teenager.
And now that the relationship between Black Jack and the Death Heads had come to light, Blood realized—and he knew Undertaker did, too—that they had to eliminate Black Jack. There was no other way. Undertaker just didn’t realize that Blood wanted the man dead for an even greater reason. Nor did he realize that killing his father would not be a burden; it would be a pleasure.
“I’ve asked you to do a lot of shit over the years, and you’ve done every task I’ve ever asked of you. But, Son, I can’t ask this of you.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, Blood. The man… Whatever else he is, he’s still your ol’ man.”
“He ain’t shit to me.”
“Blood—”
“Sandman tell you that piece of shit killed my mother?”
“Yeah, he did, but—”
“It has to be me that takes him out. You get that, right?”
Undertaker nodded. “I get that. What I’m wondering is what that’s gonna do to you. You gonna be able to live with this?”
“Absolutely.” He looked off into the distance. “Should’ve done it years ago. And maybe that’s what I can’t live with.” His eyes met Undertaker’s.
“Guess I knew eventually it’d come to this. Wasn’t sure you were ready before. Guess you are now.”
Blood nodded. “Guess I am.”
“The world seems simple to you, but when you’re President of an MC,” his thumb pointed back to himself, “very few choices are simple. I’m still not sold on you going in there.”
“I’m not afraid to face him.”
“You’re not afraid of anyone. Maybe this time you should be. He’s a powerful man in this town, and that place of his is a fortress.”
“If I die, I die.”
“The club needs you. I need you.”
“The Dead got along fine before I came. Dead will be fine when I’m gone.”
“Your brothers need you. You were born for MC
life.”
“It’s not so simple anymore.”
“Ah, Cat.” Undertaker nodded. “Women have a way of complicating things.”
“Yeah, they do, I’m finding out.
Undertaker smiled. “And the sister?”
“Gotta get her out of there.”
“You’ve got a bunch of brothers at your back for that.”
“No. I need to be the one who goes in there.”
“Not alone, you’re not.”
“I’m going alone.”
“The hell you are. You’ve got brothers for a reason.”
“He’s mine!”
“Yeah, he is. But you don’t go alone.”
“We done?” Blood bit out.
Undertaker nodded once. “Yeah.”
***
After Blood slammed out of the room, Undertaker looked at Mooch and Sandman. “Come up with a plan to get into that compound—one that takes in the possibility of Blood going off half-cocked on his own and needing backup.”
Mooch nodded. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, make sure whatever you come up with”—he lifted his chin to the door Blood had just exited—“doesn’t end up getting him or the girl killed.”
Mooch grinned. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
A shot of whiskey sat on the bar. Bubbles rose up the sides of the glass of beer Blood had ordered as a chaser. He tipped up the shot, swallowing it down.
Cat watched all this as she walked up and sat on the stool next to him, having come back in from where she’d been chatting with Marla and waiting for Blood to finish with Undertaker.
Blood turned toward her, and their eyes met. He swiveled on his stool, his body angling toward hers, and his hand moved to the back of her barstool. Then he motioned with two fingers for the Prospect behind the bar to bring her a beer.
Once the beer was set before her, and he thanked the man, he got quiet, looking away, and she wondered what was wrong. But before she could ask, he slid a hand around the back of her neck, pulled her close, and kissed her. It wasn’t a soft sweet kiss. It was demanding, in the way she was finding out Blood was so good at. He took what he wanted, and now that they’d crossed that line, all bets were off. He was no longer keeping his distance or his hands to himself—or his dirty words to himself, either.
