HANDS OFF MY WOMAN: Padre Knights MC
Page 23
He caught her knees under his arms and lifted them, giving himself even more access to her body, and she groaned as he pressed into that deep spot within her that made her twitch. Every time he brushed over it, she clenched harder, and she could see him now, biting at his lip and focusing to maintain control.
Keeping her eyes locked on his, she found her nipples with her fingers and teased at them, rolling them between her fingers like he had, taunting them and feeling the buzzing burn as they shot sensation directly down to her clit. “Jesus, Ali,” he panted as he looked on. “Are you trying to torture me?”
“No,” she said. “If I was trying to torture you, I’d do this.” She lifted her breast and leaned her head down, just able to run her tongue over her own nipple.
He went totally silent, plunging so deep inside of her that she could feel his sac pressed against her ass. He swore in Spanish and closed his eyes. His entire body was trembling, and she pressed her hips up one more time, almost delicately.
He came then, roaring with the force of it, lifting her hips off the blanket and slamming into her. She could feel him pulsing inside of her, and she met his movements with her own until he fell over her, gasping for breath as he slipped free from her. His fingers gave her no rest, though, darting down inside her curls and finding her swollen, soaking clit. She gasped as he brushed over it, and she felt his tired smile.
“I’m okay,” she muttered. “I really am. You don’t need to—”
“Hush,” he said, sounding almost sleepy. “Take your medicine.”
He knew her so well by now. His fingers moved in the perfect rhythm, stroking her clit, moving with her as she groaned and arched off the blanket, dipping into her wetness—mixed with his, a thought that made her gasp all the harder—and then returning to circle and stroke, circle and stroke until she cried out, shrieking into his shoulder as she convulsed. And even then, he didn’t stop. “One more,” he whispered, and his fingers continued their busy motion until an orgasm, bigger than anything she’d ever felt before in her life, came over her. It stole away sight and sound, pulling all sensation and focus of the universe down onto her clit, and his fingers, and their careful, steady motion. She screamed again as the world fell to pieces, and she heard his voice in her ear, his gentle reassurances that he had her, he had her, she was safe, he loved her, he would always love her. He said it in English, and in Spanish, and when she came down, she found herself sobbing, weeping with the intensity of it all. He held her through that too, rocking her sleepily back and forth, stroking her back and repeating over and over that he loved her.
When she could breathe again, she kissed him. “What was that for?” he asked.
“For being the man I always thought you were,” she said.
He smiled softly, and kissed her back.
“If you two are done,” came Cristina’s strident tone from the bottom of the barn. “I’m going to make bacon and eggs and hash browns. Sound good to you two lovebirds? I have a hell of a hangover, and I am not driving until I’ve eaten.”
Ali’s eyes met Alejandro’s, and they giggled like teenagers. “We’ll be down in just a little bit,” Ali said. “Sorry. Thank you!”
“Uh-huh,” Cristina said, but there was a quiet laugh in her tone that Ali hadn’t heard in a long time. She heard the barn door close as Cristina left, and she saw Alejandro sigh.
“Guess it’s my turn to take my medicine,” he said.
They dressed, folded up the blankets, and headed back into the house. Cristina, true to form, had three burners on the stove going as she turned out food like only a mother could. As soon as Alejandro walked back into the house, she started speaking in rapid Spanish. He nodded and took it, whatever it was. Ali tried to catch her eye, but Cristina skillfully avoided her, and she was left with nothing but Alejandro’s “si” and “no” at regular intervals. She could guess at most of it, though.
They ate. Cristina was more pleasant than Ali had expected, smiling and teasing Alejandro. She didn’t mention Bobby, didn’t subtly hint at the downsides to this new, more formal relationship between her best friend and her cousin, and she didn’t give either of them the nasty glares that had been her mode of operation whenever they were together for a decade. After they’d all eaten, and Cristina pronounced her headache cured, she kissed both Ali and her cousin, and left.
“What was all that, when we came back in?” Ali asked Alejandro as he turned to start washing dishes.
“Standard stuff. Hurt my friend and I’ll cut off your verga with a dull knife. Blah blah blah. It’s sweet she cares.”
Ali set about fixing herself another cup of coffee. “You’re not worried?”
“Should I be?” He met her gaze levelly. “As long as you tell me when I’ve screwed something up—because I will, I’ve never tried doing this long-term thing in my life—and give me a chance to fix it, my dick should be perfectly safe. And I think that’s good for both of us.” He flicked soapy water at her, and she shrieked, protecting her coffee. “You seem to like him, after all.”
She let the laughter sparkle up into her eyes, and she shrugged. “You did okay, I guess.”
“Okay!” He flicked water at her again, indignant, and then grabbed for her. She ducked away and ran for the living room. He caught her by the arm and pulled her into his grip. “I’ll show you ‘okay, I guess,’” he said, pressing her lips down to hers.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him back for everything she was worth.
EPILOGUE
When I met Alejandro, no one was worried at first. Everyone assumed it was a standard bad boy phase, and I’d get over it. Even my parents, my mother, said not to worry, that eventually I’d find someone better suited for me.
What they never realized was that Alejandro was perfectly suited to me. To my independent spirit, my lust for life, my crazy joy in sunrises and sunsets. Bobby was perfect for who they wanted me to be—but then, I wasn’t ever going to be that girl anyway, no matter how hard they tried to make me into her.
When I leave Gran’s ranch, I’m sad, of course, but I know I’ll be back. Sooner or later, Mama will start speaking to me again, and I’ll need a place to stay when I come visit her.
Sheriff Hennesy left office after a visit from the Attorney General of Texas, according to Cristina. His dirty deeds aren’t public knowledge, but Travis assures me that he will not be in a position of power like that ever again.
Alejandro and I—there’s no word to describe what we are. I’m not quite his old lady, but he’s more than my boyfriend. I don’t ever want to get married, because I don’t ever want to be tied down like that. He can’t make it home to me every single night. But his clothes are in my bureau, and most nights, I can hear his motorcycle tearing up the road, racing to be with me.
It’s enough for now.
THE END
Read on for your FREE bonus book – HANDS OFF MY WIFE
HANDS OFF MY WIFE: Black Cossacks MC
By Claire St. Rose
I’LL ONLY SAY IT ONCE: KEEP YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY WIFE.
She had no business getting involved with me.
But now that she’s mine, she’s no one else’s.
And if anyone – her boss, my enemies – think they can take her from me…
They are dead. F**king. Wrong.
She’s the upstairs neighbor, sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.
I’m a biker king doing whatever I damn well please.
She thinks she hates me, but she’s wrong.
She wants me.
She needs me.
I just have to make her see it.
But she’s got no place in this biker life.
She’s too pure, too innocent.
So it’s a shame when she throws herself in the middle of the crossfire without even realizing it.
I used her, I’ll admit it.
But I did what I had to do.
And if I had to go back, I’d do it over again.
And I’m just the man to give it to her.
Over, and over, and over again.
She’s mine now.
So everyone else better stay the f**k away.
CHAPTER ONE
ABBIE
Groaning, I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Some jackass outside revved up his motorcycle again, and a few others joined in on it. Their raucous laughter and loud voices carried into my bedroom and seemed to bore directly into my brain. I ground my teeth and sighed. These morons acted like they were the only people in the world and that the rest of us didn't matter. To those jerks, we probably didn't. Well, some of us had jobs. Actual jobs that required us to be awake and alert. And people like those rude idiots were making it extremely difficult for those of us who had to be at work the next morning to get any damn sleep.
It was futile, but I went over to the window anyway. Pulling it open, I stared down at the misfit gang of unruly motorcyclists in the street outside. There were too many to count, but their leader always stood out to me. He was tall and blonde, but he mainly stood out to me because out of all the jackasses down there, he was the only one who had the balls to smile at me. Every time. He smiled at me whenever I told them I needed to sleep and asked them to please quiet down.
It wasn't just the need for sleep that had me on edge. Though that was enough in and of itself. Having been elected to my apartment's association meant that I was expected to deal with that kind of crap. And if I didn't and wasn't able to make them stop, I was going to lose my seat on the board and the nice little discount on rent that came with it. The reason there had been a vacancy on the board to begin with was because the last person resigned simply to avoid dealing with these assholes – not that I blamed her.
I'd tried to be nice and cordial to them, at first.
“Hey guys? Could you please keep it down out there?”
And as always, the leader of that band of thugs smiled and waved at me. But when that didn't work and they kept being loud and obnoxious, I turned into a mega-bitch.
“Hey fuckers!” I shouted. “Some of us have jobs to get to in the morning, so could you please get the hell out of here and find some other apartment complex to terrorize?”
Their leader smiled up at me again and blew me a kiss. I could see it all the way from my apartment window upstairs. My blood boiled and my head hurt from the surge of anger inside of me. He was an arrogant, condescending asshole and I hated him for it. The others laughed. All of them did. The big, burly men with tattoos and scars didn't care about little old me. I was no threat to them. My shouts and idle threats were about as effective as somebody shaking their fist at a tornado.
Not that I necessarily blamed them. When they looked at me, all they saw was a little girl whom they could brush off and laugh at. Yeah, I was petite, but I was also fierce. I thought maybe they underestimated me. But then, I thought maybe a little stupid – or a little bit insane – because I knew what I had to do and was going out there to do it. I was slipping into some pajama pants, ready to rip them a new one, when I heard more bikes approaching. Looking out the window, I saw a dozen or more bikes pull up, the roar of their engines almost deafening. I saw a bunch of Latino men climbing off their bikes and greet the others who'd been partying in the street below my window.
Great. More of them. And these guys were new, so it was probably some sort of drug deal or something. I sighed. I didn't look like I'd be getting any sleep after all. Not there at least.
Grabbing a backpack, I stuffed it with a change of clothes and some toiletries. I knew my lecture wouldn't make them stop. If anything, it would probably just make them mock me and get even louder and more obnoxious – if that were even possible. So I figured that after I gave them a stern talking to, I would head over to my best friend's place down the street and spend the night. I knew that, at least there, I'd get some damn sleep. Michelle would still be up; she was a night owl. I sent her a text message and she responded right away.
“Sure, come on over,” her message read.
With my backpack slung upon my shoulders, I stepped out of my apartment, making sure to lock the door behind me. And then checking it again, just to be sure. The moment my feet hit the sidewalk, several of those pigs in leather jackets started hooting and hollering. They catcalled and whistled, calling me shit like “baby” and “sweet tits.” I glared at them. I didn't think it was possible, but these pigs made me hate them even more.
“I ain't no one's baby, you fucking pigs,” I yelled back, giving them the finger.
Their leader was a huge man who had blonde hair that fell almost to his shoulders and had a mass of tattoos that covered his bare arms. He was built like a house and was possibly the largest man I'd ever seen. He was probably twice my height and triple my weight, but I wasn't about to let that towering, hulking cretin intimidate me.
I walked right up to him and was so angry that I was ready to smack that smug, arrogant smile right off his face. His eyes were a soft blue that seemed somewhat kind – which seemed out of place on the rough, scarred up face. But those same eyes seemed to laugh at me as he watched me cross the parking lot. Wagging a finger in his face, I started in on him.
“Every night, you jackasses come out here,” I said, shaking with my barely controlled anger, “And every night I ask you to leave. I tried to be nice. Hell, I was nicer than I should have been. Yet you're still here, night after night, making all kinds of noise and, in general, being rude, obnoxious douchebags. Some of us have to work in the morning and need to get some sleep. I realize that most of you dirtbags probably don't have real jobs, but some of us do and we don't appreciate you assholes making all this goddamn noise.”
A crowd of men swarmed around us, and that was the first time I felt anything resembling fear. Yet, the anger within me lit a fire that quickly moved from smoldering to inferno and I couldn't back down. Couldn't stop. Wouldn't let them see they were getting under my skin.
Some of the Latino men were also watching me from a distance, scowling, with their arms crossed in front of their chests. A large man with dark, slicked back hair looked at me and was smiling. He seemed to be laughing at me. I took him to be the leader of the other gang based on the fact that the rest of his crew were standing behind him protectively, leaving him out front and in the center.
“You think this is funny, asshole?” I shouted. “Because I don't. What if I went to your house while you were sleeping and revved up my engine outside your window, huh? What if I played my music loud, made all sorts of noise, and acted like a rude, obnoxious jerk?”
The Latino man shrugged. “You can come to my house anytime you like, mi putita.” And then the bastard blew me a kiss.
Thanks to my high school Spanish class – but mostly my friends who spoke Spanish – I knew just enough of the language to be offended. I flipped the man off and gave him the dirtiest look I could muster. The blonde leader, who always smiled at me, let out a low whistle and shook his head. But he still hadn't said much. He seemed amused by my act, but even that last bit of ranting might have gone too far for him. Not that I really cared.
The leader of the Mexican bikers uncrossed his arms and started to walk over to me, but one of his men stopped him, giving him a pointed look. That's when I heard the sirens. Police sirens.
“Shit, did you call the cops, man?” one of the guys behind me said, grabbing my arm and twisting me around to face him.
“No, but I should have,” I spat, pulling my arm away. “Someone else obviously feels the way I do about you assholes.”
“Let her go, Jake,” the blonde man said. “That's not the way we roll. You know that.”
Reluctantly, the man he'd called Jake let go of my arm and gave me a very hard stare – a stare that said he'd love to get me into a locked room with no windows. Imagining what he might do if he ever got that opportunity set my stomach roiling and sent a cold chill
across my skin.
CHAPTER TWO
KING
I almost felt bad for the girl. Night after night, my boys annoyed and terrorized the shit out of her and her neighbors. And there we are again. We seemed to push the limits a bit farther each time, and tonight she decided to do something about it. Bad timing, baby. Bad time to come down there and get involved.
Did I feel bad for keeping a pretty little thing like her awake at night? Maybe a little. Hey, I know my guys are loud and rambunctious. I know we can cause some trouble sometimes. But the little parking lot of her apartment building sat at the edge of town and just so happened to be the prime meeting spot after a run – it was just off of a freeway, just outside the city limits and was hidden behind a bunch of large trees that keep us from sight. There were very few other houses or buildings around. And it was right on our way back to the clubhouse.
You couldn't have asked for a better, more fitting location. Until that hot little brunette got involved, that was. No one from her building seemed to care before. Nobody ever got involved. Maybe they'd been too afraid of us to open their mouths. I was sure they'd heard the stories and, likely because of that, they'd kept their windows shut and stayed to themselves whenever The Black Cossacks rolled up in there. But not this one. She wasn't easily intimidated. No, she was as feisty as she was sexy.