by Rie Warren
“You’re filthy.” She panted.
“And you fucking love it.” Darkly, I watched the next oily strand slip down the center of her cunt.
Tossing the bottle aside, I began massaging her with broad strokes, palms sweeping from pussy to pert nipples and back again.
Then I lay on top of her, bodies slithering, rough wet kisses broken by gasps and groans.
I maneuvered beneath her and pulled her on top of me with her back against my chest. The slick oil spreading, I palmed her tits and cupped her cunt.
She came again, and I was damn close when I prodded her up to straddle my cock. I positioned her in reverse cowgirl, eyes glued to her sinuous back and shiny magnificent ass.
“Ride me like this,” I ordered in a low throbbing tone.
Her hair flung around her head, she glanced back at me.
She didn’t say a word as she rolled forward enough, and my cock rooted for her tight opening. Then she swiveled, pumped, dropped. Swiveled, pumped, dropped.
She threw her head back.
And she sank all the way over my dick.
She swayed and grinded and gyrated . . . and I just enjoyed the view of her plunging onto my so-swollen so-stiff cock over and over again.
Hands at her hips, my fingers dug in. “How does it feel, Cady?”
“Hot. Hard. Slippery. Ohhhhh!” She gripped my calves, bouncing up and down with loud slaps.
She fucked my cock at an insane angle, and we were slippery all over.
“This fucking ass.” I spanked a hand against her jiggling flesh. “I’m gonna fuck it sometime.”
She whimpered. “What? Ahhhhh GOD!”
Before my balls combusted, I manhandled her forward to her hands and knees.
“I wasn’t done.” Her throaty tone turned me on even more.
“Neither am I.” Mounting her from behind, I slapped her ass again.
She shivered then danced those swinging hips back at me.
“Patience, darlin’.” I teased her by sliding my fat cock all over her drenched twat.
Easing between her lips and clipping her clit.
Once.
Twice.
Until she whined.
Then I fucking stuffed her full of dick.
My pelvis slammed against her ass, and I gritted my teeth because the feel of her surrounding me was so goddamn . . . ungh.
Dragging her up to my kiss with a hand fisted in her hair, I thrust deep and stopped, throbbing. Cady circled my tongue, her back stretched, her body locked against mine.
“Fucking love you so much.”
“Jude. Jesus!”
When I let her go, she fell forward to her hands then to her elbows. Leaving just her pussy, just her ass. I belted in and out, and oil shimmered on her skin, the heat igniting like an inferno in my balls.
With every shove, she clamped down on me.
I hammered her, bucking wildly.
Dropping all the way over her back, I nailed her harder, and my ragged voice landed at the earlobe I bit. “Play with your clit for me.”
She shuddered immediately, crying out.
My lips sealed against the damp nape of her neck, I groped all over her tits, my handhold to fuck her deeper. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t last any longer.
I couldn’t stop coming, ramming one last time until I discovered new depths inside her.
Cady muffled her scream in the bedding.
I muffled my roar against her shoulder.
She uncurled, lying flat beneath me.
I followed her down, still striving inside of her.
“Oh my God.” She breathed out a deep ragged sigh.
“You can say that again.” I sucked on the back of her neck, firmly embedded in her body.
I didn’t want to leave her, but I probably shouldn’t crush my beautiful fiancée—my fiancée—beneath me either.
Taking care when I withdrew, I flopped to my back and pulled her with me.
Cady kissed my chest then snuggled close. “I keep worrying we’ll wake up the boys.”
I snorted, sweeping tangled hair from her temples. “Ditto.”
She tried to find the blankets, but they were half off the bed, and we were resting with our heads at the bottom.
“You’re an animal, you know that?” Pouting, she sat up.
I kissed one perky nipple then moved her to the top of the bed. “I’m the worst. But you’re still marrying me.”
She laughed, drawing covers around us before getting back where she rightfully belonged, half on top of me and cozied up to my side.
“So I been meaning to ask. Where will we live?” I looked down at her.
“Your house.” Her firm voice brooked no argument.
But she was fun to mess with anyway. “Really? But what about the pool?”
“You have a creek. And room for a pool if we want.”
“The boys have lived here all their lives though, right?”
“It’s time for a fresh start.” Leaning up, Cady kissed me on the jaw, a tingling touch that added to the warmth spreading from her to my overflowing heart.
“What about my dad?”
“The more family the better, don’t you think?” She laced her fingers through mine, and a small frown appeared on her forehead. “You probably want children of your own though.”
What?
I hauled her up so we were face to face. “Isn’t three enough?”
“Plenty. But—”
“Cady, I wouldn’t ask for more than you’ve already given me. Which is everything.” Hand stealing up her back, I drew her to my lips, lashing her with the kind of kiss I was gonna give her every single day of her life. “But maybe a girl?”
Her cheeks tinged pink, and I wondered if that was a yes.
“I don’t really have a good track record with girls, Jude. I’ve only ever had boys before, as you well know.”
I flipped her to her back, grasping her hand—the one with the ring—to curl it around where I was hard again. “Isn’t that my job?”
Also by Rie Warren
All self-published series are available to read on Kindle Unlimited,
so get you some.
Mistaken Identities
Why HIM?, Book One
Why HER?, Book Two
Carolina Bad Boys—the original Bad Boys
Complete series
Stone, Book One
Ride, the novella from within Stone, Book 1.5
Love, Book Two
Steele, Book Three
Chrome, Book Four
Rush, Book Five
Tail, Book Six
Carolina Bad Boys for Life, Book Seven
Bad Boys of Retribution MC
Complete series—Carolina Bad Boys spinoff
Hunter, Book One
Kinkaid, Book Two
Bo, Book Three
Coletrane, Book Four
Bad Boys of X-Ops
Complete
Walker, Book One
Justice, Book Two
Storm, Book Three
Bane, Book Four
Bad Boy Ballers
Complete Sports Romance Series
Million Baller Baby, Book One
Free Baller, Book Two
Baller Made, Book Three
Intergalactic Lurve
Taming the Alien King, Book One
Taming the Alien Prince, Book Two
Taming the Alien Warriors, Book Three
Standalone BOXER book
In the Ring
Lowcountry Heat
Sugar Daddy, Book One
Don’t Tell Series
Complete series
In His Command, Book One
On Her Watch, Book Two
Under His Guard, Book Three
In His Sights, novella, Standalone
Freebies
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In His Heart, Free download
Keep reading f
or the first chapter of
HUNTER
Bad Boys of Retribution MC, #1
Complete series
Danger comes in many forms but Hunter’s not prepared for the extreme danger innocent MC babe JB presents to his heart—a heart he thought was off limits.
http://amzn.to/29hJ3eg
Chapter One
“YO, HUNTER.” COLE SLID me a fresh cold beer across the steel-topped bar in the Retribution clubhouse.
I savored the first swig, watching the man who was the biker on MC probationary status. In fact, most of the guys here called him Probie instead of his given name. I knew he wasn’t wet behind the ears or too stupid to have a clue. Unfortunately for him, everyone had to start out on the ground floor when pledging an MC, and he’d gotten the shit end of the stick. But he’d proved himself during our search for Detective Ashe Kingston. Brodie Steele, the VP of this club, was going to make things right with Cole the Probie tonight.
Just then, the old lady of the hour and her wildman entered Retribution. Whistles erupted only eclipsed by loud shouts and fists pounding on the tables.
Ashe accepted her welcome with the usual smile and sass, Brodie beaming by her side. The pair was well matched. Both blond: he the tall rangy biker dude, she the curvy babe on his arm. Ashe wasn’t new to the MC ’hood—she’d ridden a cop chopper in her time on duty as a Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina, Police Department officer before ranking as Vice detective. But word had it there’d been so much bad blood between Brodie and her in years past he’d just as likely have flipped her off as flipped out over her.
The times, they were a’changin’.
Ashe had been through the wringer. Solving her first case after her promotion to Vice, she’d been kidnapped while making the arrest. That night in September I’d come clean with Brodie about my undercover status. I worked off the record, in the dark, and usually solo. Lucky for him I’d been brought in on the sly, and we’d doled out a little vigilante justice.
In my eyes, the detective was Comeback Ashe. Now it was November. She’d recovered from the trauma and sat through endless hours of counseling. She’d just completed her first full week back on the force. She was back in the saddle, and for a change, Brodie didn’t look like he wanted to go full bodily harm on anyone who crossed his path.
I couldn’t imagine the hell he’d gone through, which was why I tended to keep my relationship status firmly in the one-night-only column and women at arm’s length unless they were deemed content to let me fuck them then leave them. My work was dangerous enough. I didn’t need to drag a honey into it—or into my heart.
Glancing across the room as the celebratory furor died down, I performed my usual calm cool appraisal of the action. Who might be a threat, who was working an angle, who was to be trusted. Along with Cole and Brodie, Boomer Steele—Brodie’s older bro—was in the solid corner. He was the founder and president of this club. The Steele family was tight and included Catarina, the youngest sibling of the trio, who owned and operated the auto parts dynasty next door—Chrome and Steele.
Where Brodie was blond and leanly muscled, usually with a wicked gleam in his icy pale blue eyes, Boomer was a brick shithouse on legs, broad enough to take up an entire doorway, and his eyes either danced in laughter or held a dark sadness. I’d looked into the background of each Retribution member. Unfortunately, due to the Steele family tragedy, theirs was the most captivating.
The most sad.
I took another drink and turned to face the back of the barroom. The pool tables drew a crowd. So did the dartboards. The wood was polished. The tables shined. The floors didn’t stick to the soles of my boots. In fact, despite the usual loud rock tunes, many drinks imbibed, and the ladies in waiting to get laid, this was one of the cleanest clubs I’d ever investigated. All thanks to Cole aka Probie.
Brodie waded through the crowded room toward me as his woman made a show of banking balls at insane angles before pocketing them at one of the pool tables. He looked like he was ready to sink a couple balls of his own into Ashe.
Cole fetched a beer for Brodie, setting it at the ready before he even took the stool beside me.
I clinked his bottle. “Chief’s happy with Ashe’s progress.”
“Yeah. I know. Sipowicz and I are like this.” He knitted two fingers together.
I chuckled. Sipowicz of NYPD Blue was Brodie’s very appropriate nickname for Chief Tilden, head of the Mt. Pleasant Police Department. His face was haggard and lined and he was most notable for wearing wrinkled suits over a larger-than-life belly, but there was more intelligence going on behind that workaday exterior than anyone could ever fathom. Tight ship? He ran it out of the side of his mouth without ever letting a smile show. Good man.
“You still on MPPD’s payroll?” Brodie asked.
I considered the question. No one besides Ashe and her partner Davies—both of whom I’d worked with on the Retribution case—Cole, Boomer, and Brodie knew the real solid deal about me. And even then . . . they don’t have a fucking clue who I really am. Brodie had once mentioned I was a ghost. He wasn’t wrong.
“Now, now. I wouldn’t be undercover if I told you, would I?”
“Whatever.” He sniggered. “I’ll get it out of Probie later.”
“His name’s Cole. You know it. I know it. He’s a good one to have on the lookout. Might try to recruit him.”
“As long as you give him enough time to swab the decks around here,” Brodie replied.
I was staying put in Mt. Pleasant for reasons no one needed to know. Another case? Maybe. Let them guess. My personal life was well hidden, off the record, and very fucking lost at the bottom of the sea along with my real identity.
A parade of women from the sister charter sashayed inside. The First Ladies of Redemption went hand-in-hand with the Presidents of Retribution. I’d had my eyeful of the honeys before, but tonight there was a new babe in the mix.
A minx, in fact. I stared at the woman, stunned stupid. Beautiful didn’t cover what she had going on. Her soft-looking brown curls bounced as she strutted inside on ankle-high suede boots. I couldn’t see the color of her eyes, but damned if I didn’t drink in the pink fullness of her lips canted in a smile and her tight body revealed in a pair of hipster jeans to go with the slashed top. That top dripped off her shoulders and down her back, revealing creamy skin marked with a line of butterfly tats all the way down her spine by the looks of it.
That had to have hurt like a bitch.
Jesus, she looked untouched, totally fresh, and more than a little naughty all at the same time.
I cleared my throat, nailing the woman with my eyes. “Who’s that?”
Brodie swiveled around and lazily scratched at his goatee. “Oh, her? With the First Ladies. She’s pretty new.”
I leveled my gaze on the girl again. She faced full frontal, and damn me if her face wasn’t as sexy as the rearview. Worse? She had a smattering of freckles across her slim nose and along her high cheekbones. My own personal weakness.
“Fuck that. She’s pretty. Straight up.”
“New cherry,” Brodie said. “Fresh off the tree. She goes by JB, but we gave her our own nickname.”
“JB?” I asked.
“Jailbait, dude.”
I dropped my forehead onto the bar with a groan. Of fucking course.
“Fitting. Don’t you think? Detective Sexton—if that’s even your real name?”
“It’s Lieutenant Sexton, asswipe.” I gave him the bird, my forehead still planted against the bar.
His laughter echoed as he walked away.
“Got company comin’ your way, Hunter,” Cole murmured.
I glanced around.
Oh hell. JB was headed straight for the bar on mile-long legs. I dropped my chin to my chest, peering at her through the shafts of my black hair. She passed by, leaving the scent of her addictive floral perfume in her wake.
I didn’t do the obvious thing—like adjusting my suddenly hard cock in my jeans, or making
a pass at her. Obvious was not part of my MO. I was the Ghost, literally. That was my callsign and my roadname. I kept my head down, worked the grind, did my job and got the hell out of Dodge before the dust settled.
I used the same set of rules with women. Chicks did not get to me, not anymore. I was thirty-one goddamn years old—and a hell of a lot older if you counted my kills—yet I’d never reacted to a woman like this before. Immediately. Intensely. And probably destructively.
There was a reason I stayed off the relationship grid. Tangle with me, end up dead or worse. I might officially be the “good guy” on paper, but bad shit had a way of following in my footsteps.
Despite my better judgment, I listened to JB place her order and watched her beneath the shadow of my eyelashes. She had a body to die for and a velvety voice that drove a spike of need through me. I hung on her every word, wishing I were playing bartender for the night. Then she met my penetrating stare and lifted her drink in my direction.
I’d been made.
Well, fuck it. I’d never been one to turn tail and run. Beer in hand, I prowled to her. “Hunter Sexton.”
“JB, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”
Her palm swallowed in mine, I leaned closer for another hit of her perfume. “JB?”
“My initials, among other things.” She slipped her fingers from my grasp. “I’ll be playing darts if you want to go a round or two later.”
There was no mistaking her invitation. As she slinked off, I reminded myself I had absolutely no intensions of taking her up on it.
Right.
Throughout the night, I kept her in my sights. She denied all dickheads out to get into her pants, usually with an easy letdown so the beat-down didn’t sting too hard.
After her latest brush-off of I am purely sorry, but you don’t have the equipment I’m lookin’ for with a batting of her eyelashes as she drew her arm through her busty femme fatale sidekick’s, I hid my grin against the top of my beer bottle.
