by A Parker
“Thanks for coming today,” I said.
She washed her bite down with a sip of water. “I wouldn’t have missed it. William deserved better.”
“Yeah, he did.”
She had no idea how much I appreciated her offer to come to the bar for lunch. After a trying morning and afternoon, the last thing I wanted was to be surrounded by people fussing over me. My sister was in good hands with Mason, who’d offered to take her back to Brody’s after the service to wind down. It hadn’t been an easy day for her and having William’s best friend by her side helped some.
The rest of the guys would probably head there sooner or later too and crack some beers in William’s memory. Maybe I’d make it back there in time to join them. If not, I was content here with Sam’s company.
She had an easygoing way about her that made it easy to just be myself in her presence. She had a beautiful smile too and a body that wouldn’t quit. Those were welcome distractions.
When we finished our burgers and fries, Sam took her heels off, pulled a chair closer, and kicked her bare feet up onto it. Her toes were painted bright pink.
“So,” she said as she smoothed out the skirt of her dress, “what happened to your face?”
“It’s nothing.” I leaned back in my chair with a full stomach. For the first time in five years, I felt satisfied. “Just a rough night.”
She arched a black eyebrow. “You think I’m going to buy that? The whole town is talking about how you nearly strangled Fat Jim with his own belt.”
“If you know what happened, why did you ask?”
Her cheeks turned almost as pink as her toes. “Maybe I wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth instead of relying on rumors from my teenage employees.”
I smirked. “Well, your employees have good sources, it would seem.”
“So it’s true?”
I nodded.
Sam got up, padded barefoot across the hardwood floor, and grabbed two bottles of beer from behind the bar. She popped the caps off and came back, placing one in front of me. She tipped her head back and took a sip while she sat. “Tell me about it.”
I picked up my beer and studied her. “No.”
She blinked. “No?”
“No,” I said again.
“Why?”
“It’s no business for a young woman.”
Sam set her beer down harder than necessary. “Excuse me?”
For a moment, the fire in her eyes reminded me of Suzie. I chuckled. “Listen, I understand curiosity, but I’m not going to cater to your requests just because you made me a good burger, all right? You have your life and I have mine. Trust me, you don’t want to get the roads crossed.”
Sam scoffed and rolled her eyes at me. “Oh, give me a break. You do know you’d be a pile of broken bones in some back room of the Den if not for me, right?”
What was she talking about now?
When I said nothing, Sam sat up straight and very matter-of-factly said, “I was the one who called Brody and told him you were spiraling. If not for me, they’d never have known you were walking headlong into a fight you couldn’t win. Without me, Bates would have gotten his hands on you. Without me, this whole damn town would have been right back where we were before you got home.”
I didn’t know what any of that was supposed to mean. “Are you fishing for a thank you?”
“Excuse me?”
“A thank you,” I repeated. “Is that what this is? You wanted me to come here so you could play the hero and make sure I knew just who bailed me out? Charming, Sam. Really fucking cute.”
“That is not what this is.”
“No? You don’t want Black Jack to owe you a favor? Everyone else in this godforsaken shithole seems to want a piece of me. Why not you, too?”
Sam pushed up to her feet and planted her hands flat on the table. The skin around her fingernails turned white. “You listen to me, Jackson Black. I did not call Brody to save your stupid ass for my own personal gain, you asshole. I called him because I knew you were going to do something stupid. I called him because like it or not, Reno is in trouble, and it needs you. We need you. We needed William, too. And I didn’t put all this shit on you, Jackson. You did, when you put on your leather jacket and founded your club in the first place. So don’t you dare try to turn this around on me and play the victim.”
I leaned back in my chair. This was a side of Samantha Lye I had never seen before.
I kind of liked it.
“Don’t smirk at me like that,” she hissed.
Chuckling, I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’m not used to a woman talking to me like this. Well, unless it’s Susan. Why did you really invite me over here today, Sam? And don’t give me some bullshit excuse about trying to be nice. I’m not going to buy it. You have a chip to play. I can see it in your eyes.”
Sam’s brilliant green eyes danced back and forth between mine as her lips pressed into a firm line. “I’m not trying to play anything.”
“This isn’t about Reno and what I owe this place. This is about you and what you want.” I stood up as well and towered over her. Sam tilted her head back and straightened. “Don’t be a coward now, Samantha. Tell me the truth. What do you want from me?”
Sam bit her bottom lip. I sensed the truth building inside her as she fought to hold on to it. Maybe she wasn’t entirely sure if she could trust me. Maybe she felt guilty for trying to trick me into thinking this was just about a burger.
Finally, she gave in. “I want to help.”
“With what?”
“With whatever it is you’re going to do to get rid of Walter Bates.”
Unable to help myself, I started laughing.
Sam folded her arms under her breasts and scowled at me.
I only laughed harder. I laughed until it hurt, until all my aches and pains returned in full force and I felt lightheaded, and I laughed some more. Eventually, I held a hand to my burning ribs and braced myself on the back of my chair while I wheezed to catch my breath.
“I hardly think this is funny,” Sam said stiffly.
“You’re right. It’s not funny. It’s fucking hilarious. What help do you think you could possibly be?”
Sam marched around the table and poked me hard in the chest with one finger. “Who do you think you are? You’ve been gone for five years, Jackson! Five fucking years! Do you know where I’ve been?” She clenched her fists at her sides and glared hotly up at me. “I’ve been here. I’ve been right here, dealing with Bates and his psychotic daughter as they try to steal my business out from under me. As they ruin everything they touch. As they steal, and murder, and destroy.”
I held my tongue.
Sam rolled her eyes and turned her back to me. “I know you were off fighting your own battles, but we were fighting, too. Not all of us have rolled onto our backs and given Bates what he wants. I’ve kept this bar out of his hands for three years. I’ll do what I must to make sure he never takes it from me. This is my home. It’s everything I have. The only way he’s taking this bar is out of my dead hands.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I mean it,” she pressed. “I mean every fucking word, Jackson. So you’re right. This wasn’t just about burgers. I wanted to know what your plans were. I wanted to know if you were going to handle this the smart way or if you were going to throw yourself at his mercy again and give him a chance to kill you before anyone has a chance to put up a real fight.”
Sam was so heated there would have been smoke coming out of her ears if she was a cartoon character.
My pants felt a little too tight. There was something about the fire in her eyes and the tension in her shoulders that had me on edge. How long had it been since I’d felt the softness of a woman’s body against mine? How long had it been since I tasted the heat of a woman? Since I crushed her breasts in my hands and stole her breath from her as I used her throat the way I wanted?
Fuck.
Sam hung her head and closed her eyes
. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was tricking you. I just want to be useful. I can’t sit back and do nothing. I need—I don’t know what I need.”
I knew what she needed.
I reached up and surprised her by taking her chin in my hand and forcing her head back so she would look up at me. Her lips parted, and a soft sound escaped her that made the air in the room feel a little thinner.
When I spoke, I made sure my voice was soft. “You have no place in this fight, Samantha.”
“Please.”
“Your father would never forgive me if I pulled you into this mess.”
She tried to pull away. “My father is gone. Everyone is gone. I can’t sit around waiting for things to get worse. I need someone to trust me. I need someone to give me a job. I need…” She trailed off, and I took advantage of her silence.
Samantha gasped when I kissed her. Her lips tasted like salt, and she felt like a broken bird in my hands until something snapped and she moaned softly against me.
“We shouldn’t,” she breathed against my shoulder as I pulled back to kiss her neck.
I’d never been the sort of man to not do something simply because I shouldn’t.
Chapter 11
Samantha
Ever since I was young, I’d had a pretty black and white way of thinking. I knew the difference between right and wrong, and I knew where the line was, and right now I was crossing it.
In no universe was kissing Black Jack a good idea.
And yet here I was, completely at his mercy, silently begging with every fiber of my being for him to take more.
You can’t come back from this, my brain told me.
You deserve this, my hard nipples and wet panties screamed in defiance.
Jackson still had my face in his hand. His grip was firm and warm, and he turned my face roughly to the side to press his lips and teeth down my throat all the way down to the neckline of my black dress. He left kisses across the top of my breasts before using his free hand to yank my dress down hard.
The stitching at the shoulders tore. The fabric gave way as easily as I had, exposing my dark red lacy bralette. Jackson let out a sound of primal satisfaction that was something between a growl and a groan, and I quivered in his grip like the prey I was.
Tell him to stop.
Tell him to fuck you right here on this table.
Tell him you can’t do this.
Tell him you need him.
My head spun as Jackson pulled my bralette down. His crooked smile pressed a dimple into his cheek and he took my left breast in his mouth, rolling his tongue over my nipple and pinching with his teeth on the threshold between pain and pleasure. He released my chin and I let my head fall back and my eyes closed.
For a brief and self-indulgent moment, I smiled at the thought of how jealous Amber and Morgan would be if they ever found out about this.
Jackson caught a fistful of my hair. “What are you smiling about?”
The heat of his breath on my throat made it hard to breathe. “How many women I know who would do anything for you to touch them like this.”
A deep laugh rumbled in his chest.
Did he think I was joking? Did he truly have no idea how the women of this town looked at him? How I looked at him?
How could he know? He’s been serving overseas for five years.
Jackson used a hand on the small of my back to bring me up against him. His chest and stomach were hard, and so was his cock, constrained by his jeans but definitely obvious against my thigh. “And what would you have done for me to touch you like this?”
Apparently, all it had taken was getting pissed off at him and calling him an asshole. In my fantasies, I’d never seen it going this way, though. I’d pictured us alone in a dark corner somewhere, or meeting in a crowded bar, or getting caught out in the rain together. I’d imagined Jackson putting me on the back of his bike and taking me someplace we could be alone, where he would fuck me until I forgot my own name.
Jackson grabbed my throat with one hand. “I asked you a question.”
My breath hitched. “Anything.”
His mouth crashed against mine and his hand moved from my throat to cup the back of my neck as he backed me up. We hit the table, and he picked me up only to set me down on top of it. With one sweep of his arm, he knocked the empty food baskets and beer bottles onto the floor. The glass shattered. He didn’t apologize, and I didn’t care that I’d have to clean it up later. He grabbed the front of my dress and pulled it open. Each button ripped in succession. Some, those that probably weren’t sewn on all that well, popped off and scattered across the floor.
He looked at me like he wanted to devour me.
And maybe he did.
Jackson ran a hand up my thigh and over my hip. He traced the curve of my waist with steadiness even though his hand was busted to hell. With a playful but dangerous smile, he flicked and pinched my nipples until I flinched and whimpered. When he had me aching all over for him, he pushed my knees apart and stepped between my thighs.
“There are rules that need to be followed,” he said hoarsely.
“Rules?” I breathed.
“I don’t share. If you give yourself to me, then you’re giving yourself to me. I take what I want, when I want. Do you understand?”
Suddenly, I found it hard to swallow, let alone speak, so I merely nodded. The air in the room seemed to snap and sizzle around me, as if it too understood the weight of Jackson’s words and the promise in them. My ears hummed and the very tips of my fingers tingled, daring me to reach out and put my hands on him the way he was putting his on me.
But I didn’t dare.
“If a man looks at you sideways, you tell him who you belong to.” Jackson watched me with lust in his eyes, and when I didn’t speak, he caught my chin again and pressed a thumb to my bottom lip. He pressed down until my lower lip stung against my teeth. “Nobody can lay a hand on you, out of pleasure or pain, except for me. Do you understand?”
I nodded despite the pain in my lip.
Jackson released me. “Good girl.”
He hadn’t even touched me between my legs and I already felt like silly string—like I’d been pulled too far apart and there was no way to put me back together again.
Black Jack, the ruthless biker with a taste for violence and suffering, smiled at me like the devil before reaching down and tugging my panties to the side. I gripped the edge of the table beneath me and watched as he went to his knees on the hardwood floors. How many people had he gone to his knees for in his life? I doubted there were many and the thought filled me with confidence. In an act bolder than I thought I ever could be, I placed a bare foot on his shoulder.
He admired the view before him as he ran his hands up and down the inside of my thighs, teasing me like the villain he could be, before looking up at me from beneath his brows.
“Being mine comes with a lot of perks,” he said.
And then he pressed his lips to my clit.
Every rational thought I might have had at that moment turned to smoke in my head and blew away. His tongue spread me open and tasted me, and I moaned and tilted my head back to the ceiling. My eyes closed of their own volition as his tongue swirled up and down, over and around, and he wrapped his arms under my thighs to hold them down. I had powerful legs from all my swim training, and Jackson’s strength was impressive as he held me in place despite the way my muscles strained.
Unable to stay upright, I went down to my elbows on the table.
Jackson pressed a finger inside me while he continued his delicious work with his tongue. I could feel how swollen I was as he gave me another finger. My breathing quickened out of control and my elbows gave out from under me. I went to my back on the table and my hips rolled. I worked myself against his tongue and rode his fingers. He smiled against my clit and suckled while he fucked me with his fingers.
How I’d gotten here, I had no idea.
I also had no idea what I’d rea
lly committed to with him. He’d said he owned me. How seriously did he take that vow? Was I truly his? What were the ramifications of that? Would I be in danger, or would being his mean I was the safest woman in Reno?
After the last three years I’d had, feeling safe was something I’d been chasing for a long time.
Jackson’s tongue made me feel out of this world good, and his words made me feel protected. I needed to return the favor. I needed to show him that I could take care of him too. I needed all of this.
Screw everything else.
Jackson pressed his fingers up and swirled his tongue, and the combination pushed me over the edge. I felt like I was falling into pieces as I gave in to the release. My thighs quivered and my ass lifted off the table. Jackson tried to hold me down without success, but he didn’t relent until I was panting and delirious.
He pulled me up and off the table. My knees threatened to give out from under me, so he scooped me up in his arms.
“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable,” he said.
I pointed across the bar, down past the stone fireplace, toward the far corner. Jackson stole a kiss before hurling me up over his shoulder. I yelped in surprise as I hung over his back. When he slapped my ass, I shrieked and started to giggle. He squeezed a handful of my flesh as he walked. All I could smell was him. He smelled like leather, oil, and sandalwood. Every step he took toward the stairs jolted me on his shoulder and I clawed at the back of his shirt and began peeling it upward, exposing two dimples in his lower back and, to my surprise, a pistol tucked in the waistband of his jeans. But the gun wasn’t the only unexpected thing I found. The skin on his back was riddled with scars.
My hands stilled.
Jackson bent forward and lowered me from his shoulder onto the bottom of the stairs. I sat on the fourth step up, staring at him.
“It comes with the territory,” he said.
I had a feeling that was the best explanation I was going to get. I licked my lips and watched him peel off his shirt. My eyes roamed over his body, soaking in the sight of his Devil’s Luck tattoo on his inner right forearm as well as a patchwork of other designs on his right shoulder that connected to almost make a full sleeve. More scars caught my attention: a thin slice under his right ribcage, a messy star pattern of silvery skin above his left hip, and a pale pink one across his collarbone.
