by Brook Wilder
“Now, riding on a motorcycle is easy. You just have to remember two things.” Hatchet threw a look back over his shoulder. “First, you have to hold on to me, and don’t let go for anything. Second, keep your mouth closed unless you want to pick bugs out of your teeth. Got it?” He waited for her reluctant nod and the feel of her arms wrapping around his waist before revving the engine once more.
It was the sweetest torture as he pulled out on to the road, starting out slow until she could get the hang of it. But with her arms holding onto him so tight he could barely breathe, and the feel of her lush curves pressed against his back, they were damned lucky he didn’t drive them straight into the nearest ditch.
The road was completely deserted, and for that he was grateful. He kept the pace steady and slow, increasing speed gradually but still well under the speed limit. Even then, he could hear her little squeak of fear and feel her arms squeeze him even tighter every time they went faster.
The moon hung low and fat in an inky sky dotted with stars. For a moment, Hatchet had considered bringing her to the Roadburner’s clubhouse. It was closer than his own place but the odds of Mad Dog being there made him quickly change his mind. Mad Dog didn’t like when things didn’t go as planned, and Hatchet was in no mood to try and explain why he’d brought a hostage back with him.
Hell, he couldn’t even explain it to himself.
He tried to figure it out on the ride to his house. Tried to find some reason to the madness.
People complicated things. They always did. And this girl would complicate things worse than normal. He knew that. He’d known that from the moment he saw her on that damned horse, when he couldn’t stop himself from trying to catch her. It was all one big damn mess. And what was worse, he still didn’t know what the hell he was going to do with her.
The longer she stayed with him, the more she saw and the bigger a liability she became. Logically, he knew that. But it didn’t make a lick of difference when he felt her holding him so tight from behind, like she was never going to let go.
Hatchet almost felt a pang of regret when he pulled into the gravel road that led to his place. It was an old farmhouse he’d bought when he first came back from Afghanistan. The house itself had been falling down and nearly beyond repair, but he had fallen in love with the land. It was smack dab in the middle of twenty acres of wooded property. Private. Secluded. He could go there to unwind and get away from the rest of the world. To escape when all he could hear were machine gun fire and mortar blasts.
It had taken him almost five years to renovate the farmhouse. It was the first time in his life he’d had a place to call home, and it was the money he’d earned with the Roadburners that had allowed him to do it. He would always be grateful to Mad Dog for that.
Hatchet cast a quick glance behind him as he slowed in front of the housed. He wasn’t so sure that Mad Dog would be grateful to him for bringing this girl into it. In fact, he would be surprised if the man’s reaction was anything else besides total balls-to-the-wall anger.
Hatchet parked the bike and helped the woman off without a single word. He didn’t know what in the hell to say, but he didn’t let go of her hand as he led her inside the two-story house. In silence, he led her through the green and white kitchen, down the short hallway and into the living room.
He didn’t stop until she was sitting on the overstuffed couch and he remained mute as he pulled another bandana from his back pocket.
“Is this really necessary?” she asked softly, finally breaking the silence as he moved to hold both her hands in one of his while he tried to maneuver the worn square of fabric around her wrists.
Hatchet breathed in deep and immediately regretted it. Damn, something about this girl just made him lose all control—made him feel drunk just being around her…
“Sorry, baby, can’t risk you getting to a phone.” He grunted roughly as he tied the final knot.
“I told you,” she said when he was close enough to feel her breath—warm and soft—against his cheek. “I’m not your baby.”
“Is that so?” His words were just as quiet, but they had an intensity that he couldn’t fight as he lifted one hand and swept it across her cheek and down the side of her face, until he reached her jaw.
His eyes flicked down, drawn to the pout of her lips, soft and pink and wet and just begging for a kiss. Or something much more satisfying. “You could be. If you wanted.”
“Well, I… I want…” She trailed off, her eyelids fluttering closed but there was no hiding the desire that filled them.
She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He had felt it in the trembling of her body against his on the ride back, the shallow panting breaths brushing the tip of his fingers, and the husky tone in her voice when she spoke.
If there was one thing Hatchet was good at, it was reading other people, and he could read her like an open book from a mile away.
She wanted him. And damned if he wouldn’t be a gentleman and oblige the lady. But he needed to hear her say it first.
“What do you want, sweetheart?” Hatchet whispered the words against her ear. He was close enough to feel the shiver that shook her body.
Satisfaction rolled through him, but he wanted to give her more. A hell of a lot more. He wanted to have her screaming his name as he fucked her into oblivion. He wanted to feel her sweet body tighten around him as she came over and over again, until she was begging him for release.
“Tell me, darlin’. Tell me what you want,” he prompted again.
“I want…” She paused, swallowing hard. When she spoke again, whispering against his cheek, he felt her words more than heard them as her warm breath tickled his skin. “I want you to kiss me.”
Hatchet didn’t say another word as he pulled back just enough to look down at her one last time before slanting his mouth over hers.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It wasn’t sweet or tender.
It was rough and dominant, possessive and aggressive, everything he was, and he gave it all to her.
***
Elsie froze. His lips pressed against hers and all she could do was sit there on the couch, her hands still bound, and let the kiss melt over her like hot butter. Shock held her still. Hatchet’s kiss was nothing like any of the tepid touches she’d encountered before. Sure, she’d had a boyfriend for a year in high school. They’d kissed, or so she thought. But from the moment Hatchet’s lips touched hers, Elsie knew that she’d never think of a kiss the same way ever again.
His teeth teased at her lower lip, nipping until she gasped. He took advantage of the moment to flick his tongue into her mouth. Just then, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Her shock melted and suddenly she found herself kissing him back just as hard, just as passionately as he was kissing her.
And she was shocked to discover that she wanted more.
So much more.
His hands swept across her thighs, opening them enough for him to wedge his big body between them. Even through the thick layers of denim separating them, Elsie could feel his arousal. It was hot and hard and big. It startled her for a moment and a thought crossed her lust-hazed mind.
I should tell him the truth. I should tell him that I’m a virgin. I should tell him that I’d never done this before. But his kiss dominated her mouth and she didn’t want to lose that touch—not even for a second.
Her usual sense of caution had gone out the window the moment she decided to get on the back of his motorcycle. Now, she was just running on instinct and pure, white-hot desire.
She wanted him. With a desperation that made her entire body ache.
She needed him. She didn’t know the words to describe what exactly it was she needed, but every time his touch melted over her she felt that need draw even tighter until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.
Warm pleasure pooled heavy and sweet between her thighs and she wondered for a moment if he could feel it when he was pressed so tight against her. Elsie wanted to open her mouth, to
say something, anything. To tell him that she’d never done this. To tell him the truth. But before she could speak he was pulling back just enough to grab the hem of his black t-shirt and drag it over his head.
Elsie stared wide-eyed at the impressive muscles that corded across his chest and shoulders, the tight, six-pack abs that flexed as she watched. Both of his arms were completely covered in tattoos, snaking around his shoulders and across his chest as well. The image made her wonder just what other parts of him were inked.
I should say no, a quiet voice said in her mind as she took in his visage. But there was another part of her that was stirring awake.
And that part of her screamed for more.
Chapter 6
Hatchet was on fire.
His mind, his body, his whole fucking world was going up in flames and it was all because this little slip of a woman was turning him inside out. With nothing more than a kiss. His thoughts were a tangled mess, a jumble of images and sensations that escaped as a groan from his mouth without him noticing. He couldn’t ever remember being this caught-up about a girl, let alone one who kissed like she was experiencing it for the first time—a girl who reacted to his touch like a live-wire.
All he could think about was sinking as deep inside her sweet, wet mouth and never leaving. He built his whole life on keeping a white-knuckled grasp on his control, but now, somehow, he felt it slipping.
And it was all because of her.
Her blond hair was spread out in gleaming honey rays behind her as Hatchet leaned even closer, trailing kisses across her cheek, her jawline, and the secret sensitive curve of her neck that drew little mewling cries he was almost certain she wasn’t even aware of.
Hatchet needed to get closer to her. It still wasn’t enough, and he dropped one knee between her thighs on the edge of the couch and pulled her tight against him. Hip to hip. Thigh to thigh. Her hands were still running across his bare skin in feather-light touches that drove him insane.
It was heaven. And, at the same time, it was pure, unadulterated torture.
He pulled back just enough to draw in a much-needed breath. All of the blood in his body had flooded south, along with any ability to think. His world had gone dizzy for a second. All from the petite, delicious blonde goddess spread out underneath him.
He looked down at her and he was again struck by a vague sense of familiarity. But as her hands reached up, snaked around his neck, and pulled him back down for another kiss, his ability to think was altogether wiped away.
The need to feel her, skin on skin, made him growl deep in his throat as he attempted to unbutton her shirt. ‘Attempted’ because his fingers were trembling so bad that he ended up ripping off at least half of the damned things. He would have laughed had he not been so hard that it felt like his entire body would explode right then if he didn’t touch more of her.
After a few moments of fumbling he was finally able to slide the offending fabric off her shoulders, but he stopped when the fabric got caught bunched around her hips.
“God damn it.” Hatchet snarled the curse as he attacked the knots that still held the bandana around her wrists. He’d forgotten all about it and, from the heavy-lidded look of surprise his goddess gave it, he was pretty sure she’d forgotten about it too.
“Just hold on a minute.” Hatchet bit his lip as he attacked the ties. It seemed like an eternity passed, maybe even two, before he finally got it undone. He threw the damned thing somewhere behind him and finished stripping the shirt off her. He haphazardly tossed that too.
Hatchet sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of her. She was absolutely beautiful, spread out on the couch, her lush curve contained by a slip of cream colored lace. Her skin was flushed with desire and the same pink hue tinged her cheeks. Two twin points of rose spoke of her need, a need that he was damned sure couldn’t possibly rival his own.
His hardness grew more urgent with every passing moment that he wasn’t touching or tasting her. He wasn’t used to waiting. The girls who came around to the Roadburner’s clubhouse were just looking for a quick fuck and he was happy to oblige. Fast, impersonal. Just two people getting off and then going on their own separate ways. He was usually just fine with that, but there was something about this girl that was different.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was the breathy moans in his ear, or the honest way she responded to his touch, that made him want to slow things down, to take his time instead of just rushing to the finish line.
It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done: taking a deep breath, pulling back, and forcing himself to slow his pace when his body urged him over and over again to take her, to claim her, to make her his in ways that she would never be able to forget.
He held himself as still as he could just a bare few inches above her and kissed her. He drew her deeper this time, his tongue twisting around hers, his lips nipping at hers until they were both panting as if they’d just run a marathon. Unable to keep his hands to himself any longer, Hatchet trailed his fingers up and down every inch of bare skin he could reach.
Every touch sent sparks like pure electricity shooting through his fingertips and traveling straight to his throbbing cock. His entire body was on fire, begging with him for more, pleading with him to move faster, to give him what they he so desperately wanted. But still, something held him back. Something had him teasing her with soft butterfly-light kisses and caresses instead of ripping her clothes off and fucking her until she screamed.
Hatchet was still kissing her when his busy hands found the clip at the back of her bra and he swallowed her groan of pleasure as he released it with an expert flick of his fingers and slid it from her arms. It landed somewhere on the floor with their other discarded clothes.
He left a trail of soft kisses as he made his way down the side of her neck, reveling in the shiver that shook her body as he paused at the curve of her shoulder before moving his mouth even further down. He was practically drooling by the time he reached the lush curve of her breasts, feeling their pleasing weight with both hands before latching on to one sensitive nipple. He teased it into a tight bud while his fingers toyed with the other and it didn’t take him long to have her writhing wildly beneath him.
Hatchet knew he was losing control. He knew it was only a matter of time before he let it slip altogether, but he clung to the last little bit of his reserve with all the strength he had. Seeing her half naked and wild beneath him made it that much harder, and he soon found himself gritting his teeth to still the wanton animal desire that threatened to overwhelm him.
While his mouth was busy, his hands slid down and found the zipper of her jeans. She let out a shivering, breathy moan as he slid the zipper open. She gasped when he hooked his thumbs into the waistband, and a whimper escaped her lips when his rough fingers took the denim and the little scrap of lace panties down with them in one swift motion.
Hatchet was on the edge, barely holding on the last little tiny bit of control he had left at the sight of her naked. She was as sweet and sexy as sin beneath him, and it made him want to push her legs apart and take whatever he wanted from her. He had felt the desire—the need—before. But this… this felt like so much more. If he’d been in his right mind at all, it might have given him pause. But any ability at logic had fled long before, from the moment his lips first met hers.
His hands were eager to explore all the new territory he’d just uncovered, and he was thorough as he caressed every peak and every valley he could find. His fingers swept across the sensitive skin of her inner thigh and he marveled at how soft she was.
She was like an oasis in the desert, and he was starving for a taste of her.
Her little cries of pleasure and need spurred him on and he nearly lost it then and there as his hand finally reached her hot wet center. She was dripping honey and so ready for him that, for a moment, he could have sworn he saw stars explode behind his eyelids. Hatchet didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful.
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He teased her for a minute more, wanting to bring her to the brink, wanting to show her just how intense the pleasure between them could be. One finger entered her, and he had to fight to keep from trembling at how incredibly tight she was around him. She squeezed him like a vice and he could only imagine what it would feel like to bury himself to the hilt inside her.
But then he felt her move beneath him, not the wild, reckless, need driven movements of a moment before, but something different. And then she spoke, and his heart stalled painfully in his chest.
“Wait, Hatchet.” Her words stammered as she spoke. “Please, Hatchet. Stop.”
***
What are you doing? An inner voice cried out. It belonged to the old Elsie, too cautious, too careful, and too willing to sit on the sidelines as her life passed her by because she was too afraid to take a risk. But the new Elsie knew what she wanted, didn’t she? She wasn’t going to let a chance at living her life just slip through her fingers.
