Ride to Fight: A Biker Erotic Romance (Free Guns MC)

by Wilson, Joanna

  Kat shook her head and drew back her dark thoughts. Her mother had been an alcoholic, and for the longest time, and by the tender age of ten, Kat was blaming herself mercilessly for her mother’s death by alcohol poisoning: I should have been a better daughter. I should have tried to help, tried to take the bottle away from her.

  It took a long time for Kat to realize that her mother’s death was not her fault, and, as hard as it was to admit now. Neither was Jamison’s. People made their own choices, walked their own paths. People are born alone and they die alone. It was just the way of the world.

  Kat knew there were things she could have done, small things to help, but at the end of the day, Jamison had made his choice and walked his own path.

  “Thank you for coming,” The pastor ended as Jamison’s closed casket was lowered into the grave, the sound of metal grating against metal making Kat wince.

  Arms wrapped around Mindy. Kat stood watching as flowers and other mementos were thrown into the open grave. A black pot on a neighboring hill caught her eye, and Kat looked up to see Solomon Parker. The man stood about a hundred feet away, dressed in conservative black, his hair pulled back and his shoulder resting on the trunk of a tree. Sunglasses covered his eyes and made him look mysterious, dangerous.

  Kat didn’t need the reminder. She knew better than anyone that Solomon Parker wasn’t safe. The man didn’t play by society’s rules, didn’t flinch in the face of death, or claim to be something he wasn’t. Kat didn’t doubt that whatever path Solomon parker walked would be one he made himself, carved from a broken heart, blood, and strength. It was just the man he was.

  “Kat,” John gently tapped her shoulder, his face just as drawn and tight as the rest of the funeral goers, “I’ll take Mindy up.”

  Nodding, Kat turned Mindy over to John and watched him practically carry her to the edge of the grave. Turning away from the scene, Kat picked up her black stilettos from the mushy grass and started to walk toward Solomon. A few feet away from him, she tripped on the wet grass and tumbled forward. But before she could hit the mud, he was there, picking her up and swinging her in his arms and out of the grass.

  “You gotta be careful, Kit-Kat,” Solomon’s husky voice washed over her, settling in her gut like the harsh burn of her favorite whisky.

  He was supposed to be gone, supposed to have disappeared like a thief in the night. Solomon Parker wasn’t supposed to be at Jamison’s funeral, picking her up like she was some virginal princess and he was some dashing knight. It just didn’t work that way.

  “What are you doing here?” Kat frowned when he didn’t immediately put her down on the gravel road, and her frown only deepened when she saw a shiny black SUV only a few yards away.

  “Your place isn’t here anymore, Kat. You know that,” Solomon evaded her question and instead began to carry her toward the SUV, his black shoes crunching in the gravel.

  Kat narrowed her eyes at him and squirmed anxiously in his arms. “Put me down, Solomon!”

  “No.”

  Blowing out a frustrated breath, Kat decided not to fight him on the issue. One thing she’d learned about Solomon in the few days they’d been together was that fighting with him was like fighting with a rock, she just wouldn’t win.

  Kat waited to be put down. It wasn’t as if she had qualms about being carried by a big, strong, sexy man, but this was Solomon Parker. The man was trouble in all caps, and should have been born with a caution sign burned onto his forehead. “Why are you here?”

  Solomon just quirked his lips, irritating Kat all the more. Here they were at a funeral—Jamison’s funeral—and he was laughing like he hadn’t almost been killed because people thought he had tampered with Jamison’s bike. The man shouldn’t have been laughing; if anything, he should have stayed far away and left the members to grieve for Jamison.

  “I’m here for you, Kat,” Solomon said in a clear voice, like he wasn’t saying something extremely serious.

  “Well that’s too damn bad, because I don’t want you,” Kat growled as he placed her in the SUV and then climbed in after her. Kat immediately made a grab for the door handle, ready to leap out of the vehicle, when the doors locked. A second later, Solomon closed the door on his side.

  Solomon turned to face her, and the car’s surprisingly roomy backseat shrunk to half its size in a heartbeat. The man didn’t dominate a space, he claimed it. “Don’t lie, Kit-Kat. You’re not very good at it.”

  Tense seconds passed as Solomon stared at her, making no move toward or away from her. Kat knew what he was doing. He was waiting for her to break, waiting for her to give in to him–to them, and accept whatever was between them.

  For a brief span of time she’d thought he was a murderer, but she’d still slept with him, still rocked his world and given in to the crazy attraction between them. And for an even briefer span of time, Solomon had thought she’d murdered Jamison, but even that hadn’t kept them from sleeping together. No, it seemed that murderers or not, they were still tied together. It was strange how badly Kat still wanted him, after all they’d been through, after all they’d done to each other.

  Up until that point, they’d had sex: raw, intense, animalistic sex. But Kat realized what he was asking for now, what he was about to do. They weren’t about to have sex, they were about to make love. It was in Solomon’s eyes, in the way his gaze caressed her body through the black dress she wore. Solomon wasn’t just looking at her like a piece of ass, but rather in that way she’d seen few times before.

  Kat had suspected that he loved her, thought that he was going to say it a few times before, but he never had, and the look had faded away. But now, looking into the blue irises of his eyes, she saw the truth, saw everything he was going to say. Not a short-term commitment thing. Permanence was written in Solomon’s eyes.

  “Do you love me?” The question burst from her lips suddenly, the words tripping over themselves.

  Solomon was on her in a heartbeat, fingers clutching at her hips, ripping the fabric of her dress. Hard lips claimed her. His tongue invaded her mouth in a hot, wet glide. Kat heard something else rip: Solomon’s shirt as she clawed at it, wanting to feel his skin against hers.

  This was so like the other times had been, harsh need and explosive attraction slammed into the both of them. But there was something more, something right beneath the surface, seeping into their souls.

  Kat was afraid to name it, afraid that once she did there would be no going back. For the last nine years, one thing had mattered to her: the Free Guns MC. That was it. What Solomon was asking her to do, what her heart was asking her to do, was something she’d never done before. Kat didn’t put her faith, trust, or anything else in one person. Life had a way of snatching them away, and Kat couldn’t lose another person she cared about.

  “I can’t... love you,” Kat whispered around a kiss.

  Warm leather caressed her back as Solomon’s fingers ran past her inner thighs and pushed aside her panties. Thick, callused fingers stroked her lips, causing Kat to arch her back with pleasure. Sensation shot through her as Solomon pushed a finger inside of her, curved it, and began stroking her g-spot.

  “Yes you can, Kit-Kat,” Solomon whispered as his teeth closed around one of the buttons of her blouse and tugged hard, ripping the dress down the front.

  Kat shook her head back and forth, denying his claim over her. Solomon just chuckled and flicked his tongue over her bra-covered nipple, finger still flirting with her g-spot.

  Kat was on the edge, riding hard, just waiting to fall over. She needed it. Needed the release, that feeling of crashing, exploding with—against—Solomon. Words jumbled in her mind as her thoughts became incoherent, just impressions moving around in her mind.

  Need. Want. Fuck. Yes. It was maddening.

  “I’m… so close,” Kat moaned, writhing on the leather of the back seat, eyes shut tight and seeing stars.

  Solomon’s voice was rough, like he’d drunk something and it had burned his th
roat. “Say it, Kat. Say it and I’ll break you.”

  Break me. He’d said something similar before, the first time they’d had sex. Kat still remembered it, his promise. “The minute I stop calling you Kit-Kat is the minute I break you.”

  The thought was tempting. Kat knew that she wanted him to break her, knew that at that moment, she’d give him anything he wanted if he just let her come. The words were on the tip of her tongue, her reason was out the window.

  “I love—"

  “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

  The words brought her crashing back down. It hurt. She wanted Solomon so bad, wanted everything he was prepared to give her. Not just his dick, but his life, his heart. That was what he was offering with every stroke, every lick. She knew that.

  Kat knew that if she said the words now she would no longer be president of the Free Guns, there was just too much bad blood there. She also knew that if she said the words, Solomon wouldn’t let her go. Three simple words would change her entire life and leave her future in Solomon’s hands.

  Three little words changed everything.

  Kat took a breath, paused, and stayed on the cusp of orgasm. This was it, make or break. “I love you.”

  A thick, hard dick replaced Solomon’s fingers as he thrust into her so hard Kat knew she wouldn’t be able to walk out of the car. But he’d carry her, be with her, always. “I love you too, Kat.”

  ***

  A few hours later, they were lying in bed with the curtains drawn shut when Kat’s phone rang. It was almost nine in the evening, and for the last few hours Solomon had made love to her, taking her in every position, exhausting her appetite for sex. The man was simply amazing in bed, which was one of the reasons Kat loved him so much.

  Voice groggy, hair bedraggled, and Solomon draped over her body like the warmest blanket, Kat answered the phone. “Hello?”

  “Kat?” John asked instantly, skipping any pleasantries.

  Kat was alert in a heartbeat, rubbing her eyes and sitting up straight in bed. Solomon struggled through layers of sleep, but was awake with her in a second, brows knitted in concern. “What is it, John?”

  “Solomon’s old cronies are getting antsy. They’re talking shit about you and calling for an election. They want you out of the club and Solomon as the president.”

  Whipping her head to face Solomon, Kat caught the smile that tugged at his lips. The bastard knew this would happen. She could see it in his eyes, in the relaxed stance of his body. Solomon had expected this outcome, predicted it, probably orchestrated it.

  Kat didn’t know whether to be proud or furious. She loved a man who was blatantly undermining her authority.

  “When do they want the election?” Kat couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice as her eyes skimmed Solomon’s rock-hard abs and zoomed in on the large tent formed by the sheets around his groin area. Although it should have been impossible, she should have been sore for a week more at least, she wanted him again. Kat was tight, throbbing, and wet, and she wanted Solomon Parker again.

  “As soon as possible, Kat.” John replied with a frustrated sigh.

  “Tell them it’ll be handled Friday, but some members still need time to grieve.” And fuck their rivals.

  Kat felt only marginally bad that she was putting off the election to stay in bed with Solomon, but she knew that come next week she might hate his guts and want to rip him to shreds. It was good to treasure the peaceful times.

  “Got it.”

  Kat smiled as she climbed on top of Solomon and opened herself to him. On an upward thrust, Kat tilted her head back, bit back her gasp, and responded to John. “Bye.”

  Read on for an Excerpt from Burnt Asphalt, the sequel to Ride to Fight

  Burnt Asphalt - excerpt

  "So was this your plan the entire time?" Kat asked from the bathroom as she twisted her hair into a bun and pinned it.

  Solomon hadn't moved from his place on her bed, content to lie there and watch her move around the bedroom, putting on her war paint and armour. Kat knew that was exactly what she was doing to do; she never wore makeup, never put so much thought into her outfits. A smear of chap stick and a shirt that smelled ‘okay’ was her usual ensemble.

  But today wasn't a normal day, today was the day the Kat either became the president of the Free Guns or something else. It was that something else she was worried about.

  "Is that what you think, Kit-Kat?" Solomon chuckled, evading the question as he'd done for the last few days, ever since they'd gotten the call.

  Sighing loudly, Kat nodded at herself in the mirror and went to the bedroom, standing at the foot of the bed with her hands on her hips. "Yes, that's what I think."

  The sly, devilish man just smile slowly and shifted on the bed letting the white sheet covering most of his torso slide down and off. Don't look. Don't look. Kat reminded herself as she thought of the last time he'd avoided her by turning her mind and body into a pile of mush.

  But she couldn't complain. Sex with Solomon was addictive, her knew drug. It was fun, freeing, and delicious. Kat wrinkled her nose as her thoughts roamed back to sex. It wasn't as if sex was a taboo subject with her, but never had sex been so... She couldn't even put into words what sex with Solomon was like. The best she could say was that she was permanently dick-matized, happy being under, on top of, or beside the man as long as he loved her. And that wasn't just in the physical sense either.

  Kat might have been able to blame it on Jamison's funeral turning her heart mushy and putting her emotions through the blender, but it had been three days since that dark day. Three days of hot, sweaty, animalistic sex with Solomon with the occasional passionate and emotional sex thrown in just for good measure. The man seemed to be able to give her just enough, but never too much, so that it was suffocating.

  "Kit-Kat," Solomon's voice was husky, sleepy, and playful. That was one thing she'd never expected from him, playfulness. The man seemed to love to tease her, stroke her to the edge just for the fun of it. It was just another thing she'd learned about him, another thing she loved about him.

  But he could take your position, take your club. Her conscious reminded her viciously, smacking her with the reality of her situation.

  No one suspected Solomon of killing anyone anymore, and all his old cronies had jumped at the chance to get back on his good side and elect him their new leader. It was amazing how many people wanted to be his friend after they found out he was innocent. It was only worse that she had been the one to nearly take his life. It made Solomon look all the more innocent and her an unreliable, kind-of-bitchy president.

  A soft caress on her neck drew her out of her thoughts. Solomon was behind her, having moved when she'd been too consumed with her own guilt and misgiving over the upcoming election. Lips trailed fire across her collarbone, soothing the burn with a slow glide of his tongue. Unable to help herself, Kat tilted her head and let him kiss her. It was one thing she couldn't help. Kissing Solomon was sweet and sour all at once, it made her crave more, but then regret craving it. There was such duality within Kat, that only one thing in her entire life was clear: her love for Solomon Parker.

  I do love him. She knew that, without a doubt in her mind, her love for him was genuine.

  "You look beautiful," Solomon whispered across her lips, his thick erection burning through the back of the tank top she wore.

  A smile curved her lips before she could help it. It wasn't the time for sex; they had a meeting to get to, a meeting they were already going to be late for.

  "You need to get dressed."

  "Do I?"

  Enjoyed Ride to Fight? Be sure to check out Joanna Wilson's other works

  Touch/Click covers below for more information!

  “Promise me, Zed…” Those were the last words Christie Monroe said to Zed Barlow when she left him six years ago to pursue her dream of becoming a federal agent. Six years later, Christie Monroe is an ATF agent following a trail of guns through northern Nevada
when she is stopped by the notorious Ryswell Brothers MC. Christie has investigated enough cases to know what happens to captured ATF agents in the hands of this club...

  ... until she sees Zed Barlow once again. In the six years they've been apart, Christie never forgot him. One look and she sees the recognition behind Zed’s eyes, the fire that has nearly smoldered to a ruin, and the spark that could re-ignite everything once again.

  But the shy boy she knew is gone, and in his place stands the hardened president of the Ryswell Brothers. Suddenly, a kiss shared under the starry skies and a promise made six years ago surface returns to haunt her and Christie must find out where her allegiance truly lies: with her heart or with her duty.