"Um... you like?"
He was still coughing–I think the tequila was burning his throat more than usual–but he managed a smile. When he'd recovered enough to speak, he said, "I love. I'm not thrilled with these assholes--" he gave the group a pointed stare, and I heard throat-clearing behind me"--but that's their problem, not yours. You look beautiful. You are beautiful." He put his hand on my bare back and brought me close for a very private kiss.
Just then, Tiffany called me over for help in the kitchen. I gave Jake a quick squeeze and headed to the kitchen. After a couple of steps, I heard several different throats clear again, and Jake muttering, "Oh, holy shit." He'd seen the seams on my stockings. I smirked and walked on without turning back.
Tiffany gave me a cheeky grin. "Well, Dakota baby, you sure know how to work him."
"You gotta know your man, right?"
"Right on." With help from the groupies, we laid a bountiful table for everyone.
With the possible exception of Joshua's second Christmas, when he was old enough to really get excited about the whole deal, this was my favorite ever. I couldn't believe I'd spent Christmas Eve in a such happy, boisterous, bacchanalian celebration. Dinner had been delicious–it should have been; we had planned and baked and cooked for days–and everyone had been civilized.
I had inherited a ton of wealth from both my father and husband, and was thus never-need-to-work loaded. Jake insisted I keep that fact quiet and away from the Fire Birds. But I couldn't resist a splurge, and had had custom scale models made for each Fire Bird of his principal bike. They had gone over extremely well, but I thought Jake had gotten his fill of the enthusiastic hugs and kisses I'd gotten in thanks. Jake and I had decided to exchange presents on Christmas morning, alone at home.
The experience of buying the gifts had touched Jake deeply, and I was gratified to see that my recipients seemed to be equally touched. I'd done it all entirely independent of Jake. Several times while presents were opened, I caught him giving me a thoughtful look and, when Pops opened the war journal last of all, Jake walked up behind me and wrapped me tightly in his arms. "Ah, babe. You’re amazing."
I didn't care about presents for myself, but I got a couple of excellent first edition books from Dixon and Tiffany. I thought perhaps a tall, tawny biker might have been skulking through my collection and feeding out hints. I got some pretty pieces of jewelry, too. I had felt pleasantly overwhelmed.
Shortly after presents, the older folks and extended-family types left, and the bacchanal started with a vengeance. The music got loud, the groupies got drunk, and the Fire Birds got blown. By midnight, someone had crashed drunkenly into the tree and knocked it to the ground. That's about when Jake pulled me aside and into his arms.
He gently pulled the band out of my hair and ran his fingers through it. He'd been drinking but wasn't drunk. "I can't take much more, babe. I've been thinking about pulling those stockings down with my teeth all night. Let's go to my room."
Um, no. I had something else in mind. I grabbed his chin. "Let's go home instead." We didn't live together exactly, but we spent most nights at my place, and we'd both taken to calling it 'home' pretty quickly. Jake's only other home was the clubhouse; he had sold his house to put the money in trust for his daughter.
"You're not getting on my bike dressed like that."
This was all part of my plan. "Let's take my car, then. You can drive, and we can come back for your bike tomorrow." I knew he hated to be without his bike, so I leaned in and pressed my leg against his crotch. He groaned. I took his hand and slid it under my skirt, just enough so that he could feel the garters. He moaned. I slid my hands into his hair and pulled his head down alongside mine. His breath hitched. I circled my tongue around his ear and bit the lobe. He clutched me to him, his hands flat on my bare back. I whispered, "I promise you won't regret it."
"Let's go. Now."
I always kept my promises; I blew him on the ride home.
Jake pulled down to the end of the driveway and I got out to open the garage door. I was hoping that Fry had set things up the way we'd planned. I hadn't been home since morning. I pulled up the door and there, illuminated by Indie's headlights and standing in the middle of the garage, refreshed and refitted, polished to a gleaming luster, and topped with a big black, purple, and white bow was the shovelhead. I heard Indie's engine cut and Jake get out.
"Dakota, what–?"
"–I love you, Jake." It was the first time I’d told him that I loved him.
He said nothing for a minute. I went to stand next to him. Then he started, "Dakota, this is too… I can't–"
"–Dude, if you're about to refuse this gift, I will kick your ass all the way to the moon."
He laughed and held his hands up. "Okay, okay." He got serious again. "But I need to know something. I know what this bike is. I know what it means to you. Are you absolutely, absolutely sure this is what you want to do?"
I moved to stand in front of him and held his face in my hands. "Jake. I love you. I'm surprised every day by how much. Being with you has changed my life–has changed me–in ways I don't think you realize, in ways I don't think even I fully realize. I have a life and a heart that is fuller than it ever was. I have a family in a way I never had." I'd practiced that part. But, dammit, crying wasn't part of the plan.
"I loved Jon. A part of me that I keep close in memory will always love him. I will always miss the little family we made with Joshua. Losing them emptied me out. But I was so young when I met Jon. I got pregnant at fifteen and he was such a true gentlemen that he asked me to marry him. I was so young, I just lost my dad… I don’t know… I did love him but I don't think I was in love with him. You, Jake, you fill my heart completely.”
I sniffed and composed myself, wiping the tears away. "Jon would have liked you. And he would have hated the bike to rot, but he would have hated more the idea of some random schmo taking it away. If he were making the choice right now, you'd be his choice. In conclusion: Take the fucking bike, asshole."
He laughed out loud, lifted me off my feet to bring my face to his, and kissed me. "I am so in love with you." He kissed me again for a very long time. Finally, we came up for air. "This really is incredible. How did you manage this? This is why you kept putting me off when I wanted to work on it?"
"Yep. Fry helped me–well, he basically did everything." I grinned. "You should watch out for him. I think he’s a ninja."
He set me back down and went to look at his new bike. I walked up behind him and put my arms around his waist. "You wanna take a ride?"
He turned in my embrace and put his hands on my hips. "You're still not getting on the bike dressed like that. You'll need to change." He leaned down to nuzzle my neck. "I could help you with that. With my teeth."
I squealed as he swung me up into his arms and carried me into the house. When we got into the hallway, he put me down, then pushed me up against the wall and kissed me hard. His erection pressed against me, and I pressed back and shimmied my hips. He growled and kissed me harder.
His hands moved all over my body, pushing up my shirt to bare my breasts, caressing and tweaking my nipples, sliding down my sides then up my thighs to bring the skirt up over my buttocks, and then sliding back down to the tabs on my garter belt. Every part of my body was screaming with fiery pleasure.
He ran his fingers under the tabs. "Jesus Christ, these are so damn hot." He started to go to his knees, but I stopped him.
"Here, let me help you out." I reached down with both hands and released the ties holding my thong together. I pulled it out and held it up, dangling it in front of me. "Leave the stockings. Teeth later. Right now, right here, just fuck me. Please."
"God yes." He unbuttoned his jeans and released his full, swollen cock. He pushed my legs apart and shoved into me with a grunt. I was just tall enough in my high heels for deep penetration, but he grabbed one of my knees and held it up against his hip and got even deeper. He thrust into me with abandon, over an
d over.
I felt my orgasm coming up fast and clutched at his head. "Fuck! God… Jake!" He kept pounding, and my orgasm kept going, until he abruptly pushed into me as far as he could and arched backwards with a howl.
As we came down, we kissed slowly and deeply. Jake put my leg down and leaned into me, pushing me against the wall, his hard cock still deep inside me. He pressed his lips to my temple. "Oh, God, Dakota, I love you," he murmured. I threaded my fingers through his hair and held him closer. After a moment, he slipped out of me and bent his knees. He lifted my feet off the ground and carried me into the bedroom.
He stood me at the foot of the bed and gently rearranged my top and skirt. Then he eased me down to sit on the bed. He buttoned all but the top button of his fly. Then–oh my sweet Jesus, oh my God–he got onto one knee on the floor at my feet.
My heart raced as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out–yes, a ring. A beautiful oval amethyst set in delicately worked white gold. It looked old-fashioned. Oh. My. God. When Jake started talking, I didn't dare interrupt.
"This was my grandma's. My granddad and her were happily married for sixty-two years, until the day he died. I always thought this ring was pretty, and it's one of a kind. The stone is an amethyst, which was my birthstone, and it's yours, too. So it just seemed like the right ring. But if you say yes and want a different ring, you can pick out whatever you want.
"Dakota, what you said tonight in the garage is exactly how I feel, too. I've been feeling guilty for loving you the way I do, because I never loved Tina like this. I loved her so much, and I spent years missing her every day, but I don't think she ever understood me, and she never accepted the life I brought with me.
“She loved me, I know she did, but I disappointed her every day. You don't make me feel that way. You give me room. You bring me peace. I know I'm asking too much when I ask you to join your life with mine. To be mine. But I want to spend the rest of my life in the peace I feel with you. I want you to be my Birdy. This ring is a promise to you that in the future we will get married and we will be together forever… Dakota, will you accept this ring and promise to be mine forever?"
Chapter Seven
Jake
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt lightheaded. She was crying. Was that good?
"Jake. It's beautiful… You’re beautiful… That's the perfect, perfect ring, and you're the perfect man. I will wear it and cherish it for the rest of my life. I will cherish you for eternity."
That sounded like a yes, but... "I'm feeling a little stupid right now, babe, so it would really help if you would answer with a clear 'yes' or 'no'."
She laughed. "Well, it’s a good thing I’m only with you for your looks, Jake, and not your brains. You know that.” I playfully hit her with my hand.
“Dakota! Please. You’re killing me here.”
“Yes. Yes, you silly, sexy, bloody hot, dragon of a man."
Dragon? Sometimes, Dakota was a little weird but God--that made me love her even more. I slid the ring on her finger. Then I climbed onto the bed and made love to her. After I took her stockings off with my teeth, of course.
My phone went off a few hours later. I woke up and jumped to grab it out of the pocket of my discarded jeans before it could wake Dakota. She looked simply beautiful while she slept. My Birdy. My Beauty.
I looked at the time. 4:47AM. It was Lenny. Dakota stirred but did not fully wake. I answered the phone. "Yeah, Lenny."
"We're at the Lock in thirty minutes, brutha."
"Shit."
"Aye."
"Okay." I hung up and pulled on my jeans as quickly as possible. We didn't ask for details, not over the phone. A call super early on Christmas morning was fucking bad news. That's the only detail I needed.
I looked at Dakota again, sleeping sweetly, her dark hair tousled over her face. Her left hand, wearing the ring I'd just given her, rested on the pillow I'd been lying on. A lump grew in my throat. I knelt down at the side of the bed and brushed her hair back. "Dakota, babe. I need you to wake up."
She hummed and moved towards me. I kissed her lightly on the lips. "Dakota, wake up, babe."
“Jake, please, I know you're beastly, but just give me time to recover and then you can sex me again.” I couldn’t help but chuckle a little inside at that. Normally, I would have taken her to the moon and back but something was seriously wrong back at the club.
She opened her eyes. In a second, awareness finally dawned on her and she wrinkled her brow and sat up. She was naked and gorgeous, and, fuck, I was worried. "I got a call. I have to go, right now."
"Jake, my God. It's Christmas morning. This has to be bad."
"Yeah, it does."
I saw the worry darken her lovely emerald eyes. But what she said was, "Okay. You going to take the shovelhead?"
Not a single complaint. Not a word of challenge. I could not have loved her more or been more grateful in that moment. She was a true Birdy. "No. I want my first ride on it to be with you. Would you drive me back to the club?"
She slid off the bed and wound her arms around me. We held each other for a few seconds, and then she went to her closet to get dressed.
***
She pulled into the lot but didn't park. Dakota was very independent and I loved that she was feisty. But, sometimes she really needed to let me in. "I wish you would change your mind. Stay here at least until I know what's going on. I need you safe. Please, Dakota."
She sighed, and in that exhale of breath I could hear that she was tipping past frustration into anger. "Jake, that is not the deal. You know I don't hide. I don't hide. I won't live in a bunker."
I was getting pissed off as well, and I hit the dashboard hard with the side of my fist. "I'm not asking you to live in a fucking bunker! I'm asking you to hang out someplace I know you're safe while there's a threat!"
She stared at the place on the dash I'd struck before turning back to me, her jaw rigid and her eyes narrow. She didn't yell–I'd never heard her actually yell–but she hit her words hard. "There's always a fucking danger, Jake. You told me yourself: That violence follows you everywhere. Okay. I signed on anyway, eyes open. It didn't deter me from loving you, from wanting to spend the rest of my life with you. You can’t help who you fall in love with.
“It won't deter me from living that fucking life the way I fucking want to. Being engaged to you cannot change that. That's my end of a deal that has me watching you go away to seek out this shit, and also has me allowing a crew of fucking Neanderthals input into our personal business."
I wanted to shake her. I myself was almost shaking with anger and anxiety. I had to–had to–keep her safe. It made me crazy to think of her unprotected. But I also knew that this was a fight I couldn't win. This was the trade-off for the way she took the news when I woke her. She gave me my room; I had to give her hers. She considered that non-negotiable.
I closed my eyes to regroup. I took a long breath and exhaled slowly. "Okay. Okay. But Dakota, please keep your phone close today. And it would be great if you'd at least stay close to home."
I felt her relax. She gave me a rueful smile. "It's Christmas Day. I know I blush a lot with you, but I’m not Rudolph. I don’t have to travel the world handing out presents… Where am I gonna go, Bad Boy?"
I leaned over as I laughed, and put my hands in her hair to pull her close. "I worry because I love you, goddamn it."
"And I love you. I worry about you, you know. Every minute you're away like this. But I don't stop you from doing what you need to do." She pressed her mouth to mine. “So give me the same respect.”
I nodded, hesitantly. "I'll be calling you soon, okay?" As I stepped out, she caught and squeezed my hand. I squeezed back. I closed the door, and she pulled out of the lot and out of sight.
***
I called her in the afternoon, and her phone again rolled to voicemail. It was the third time I'd tried to call in the past hour, and I felt that the internal freakout I was having was complet
ely fucking legitimate. I'd talked to her earlier in the day, but now nothing. She hadn't told me about any plans–and, as she'd said, it was Christmas Day, for Christ's sake. If she wasn't going to the compound–where Tiffany and the other Birdys were–where else would she fucking be? And wherever she was, why wasn't she fucking answering her damn, fucking phone?
Fry’s house had burned to the ground in the middle of the night, with his mother, sister, and nephew and nieces–his whole family, visiting for the holiday–sleeping inside it. They were all dead.
The only reason he was alive was because he'd passed out with two bird feeders at the party. We didn't know yet whether it was a god-awful freak accident, or some kind of extreme turf war volley, but unless it was an accident, they were targeting us and our families. The place had been an inferno, which probably meant arson. The gang had called in the families to the compound an hour ago. Dakota was the only outlier.
The gang were scattered in small groups, securing the families, helping Fry, and trying to track down some kind of intel on the fire. I had, along with Dixon and Lenny, made a trip to the East Riders Club–loyal allies since the days Pops was in charge–to see if they had any info on the attack. Nothing had come from that excursion.
Now we were headed back to Shadowbeach, and it was looking more like the usual suspects had nothing to do with this. None of our enemies were owning up to the attack, which meant either they were lying--which didn’t seem likely--or some new player was in the game.
Bad news either way, and to make matters worse, I couldn't fucking get a hold of Dakota. We'd pulled into a gas station so that Dixon could check in with Tiffany back at the clubhouse and I could try Dakota a third time. No success.
Beauty and the Bad Boy Page 9
