by Harley Stone
“How does that feel?” I asked, my voice low and husky. If I didn’t want to fulfill her fantasy so bad, I’d bend her over one of the chairs, take that thing out of her, and fuck her until neither of us could walk out of here.
“Good,” she replied. “It’s comfortable.”
“Let’s see if it works.” I pulled up my phone and started the app, giving her pussy a little pulse.
She jumped. “Yep. Works.” She giggled with her hand in front of her crotch. “Can you hear it?”
“Not at all.”
“Are you sure?”
I cranked up the vibration, but still couldn’t hear it. Especially not with the music coming from the other side of the wall. “Nope.”
Julia moaned, doubling over. “Turn it down. Turn it down!”
Laughing, I lowered the vibration.
“Ohmigod. I just realized the kind of power you have right now. Why in the world did I agree to this?”
“Because you love me and you like trying new things with me.” I grabbed her face and kissed her deeply while fiddling with the controls. She moaned into my mouth, and I turned the toy’s intensity up, still holding her chin in my hand. It took less than a minute before Julia was writhing beneath my kiss as release ripped through her. I lowered the intensity and let her ride out her orgasm before turning it off completely.
“Fuck,” she breathed, leaning against me for support. “Holy shit-fuck.”
“Thought it would be best to get the first one out of the way so you’re not so sensitive.”
She was panting. “You’re going to do this to me out there?”
I grinned. “Well, you might want to hide it a little better. They’re not that drunk, yet. Let’s see your game face, Jules.”
Pulling away from me, she straightened her dress and took a deep breath, giving me a cool, collected smile. I’d believe she had her shit together if it weren’t for her lust-filled eyes.
“Goddamn, you are so beautiful.” Unable to help myself, I kissed her again. “I love you so damn much. I hope you know that.”
Her smile heated, and her eyes softened. “I love you, too, Marcus.” She took another deep breath. “Now take me out to the reception and give me numerous orgasms in the middle of everyone we know and love.” She paused, as if considering what she’d just said. “We’re going straight to hell. You know that, right?”
I shrugged. “Might as well have a good time, then.”
Putting her vibrator on low, I offered her my arm. She took a moment to get used to the sensation, and then accepted my arm. We headed out to join the crowd.
Our first stop was Stocks. I clapped my friend on the shoulder and asked, “How you feelin’ brother?”
“Good.” He turned to face us, giving Julia a hug. She carefully angled her body away from his. “The doc says everything’s healing nicely. Should be able to ride again by next week.”
The gunshot had missed his stomach but clipped his large intestine. He’d undergone a couple of surgeries and had to fight off an infection, but he was on the mend. I’d been following his progress and making sure he got the best care available. Stocks had taken a bullet while protecting my woman, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing in the world I wouldn’t do for him. I was already badgering Link about patching him in early. The motherfucker had earned it, if you asked me.
“You need anything, you let me know,” I said, reminding him for the thousandth time since the incident that I was at his disposal.
As we walked away from Stocks, Julia joined a few of the old ladies and I fiddled with the app, turning her toy up and down in intensity, watching her reaction. Her body made little jerks, and occasionally her gaze sought me out, but for the most part, she handled it like a boss.
After one particularly heavy attack on her pussy, she drifted over and gave me a tight smile. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
I kissed her. “Yes, babe, I do. You enjoying it?”
She didn’t have to answer, because the gleam in her eyes said it all. “Look, there’s Morse,” she said instead, changing the subject.
Morse was another man I owed the world to. He’d been monitoring Julia’s store, and called me the instant Wesley showed up. Then he’d copied the surveillance footage and rounded up Emily and Link to meet us at the police station. The detectives assigned to the case watched the footage, and then interviewed us both. Julia confirmed that she hadn’t shot until Wesley had attacked her, and since her story lined up with the footage, they released us and told us not to leave town. Thanks to Morse’s quick thinking, and quicker action, we weren’t even booked and no charges were ever filed.
As for Julia’s shop, Wesley’s death had put a quick halt to the purchase of her building. Since her name was still on the house she’d purchased with the asshole, the home was awarded to her. The Dead Presidents had helped her search the premises and his home computer for dirt on her ex, and had found plenty. Not only was Wesley in bed with the Kinlans, he was also screwing over half of Seattle, including Julia’s parents. He’d used “donations” from the Edwards to kick-start his little venture with the Kinlans, and then blackmailed them over their gift.
The dumbasses had trusted the wrong man with both their money and their daughter.
We turned everything over to the feds, and last I’d heard, they’d found a link between Wesley and the Kinlan murders. Who knew what else that sick fucker was involved in? Seattle’s a hell of a lot better off with him gone.
Julia recently signed papers to sell the house she’d shared with Wesley, and had already received a few offers. She was planning to use the money to buy her commercial space so she never had to worry about another eviction notice. Knowing that her parents were being blackmailed, hasn’t changed a damn thing between them. However, when the smoke cleared, her asshole of a father did the right thing and released the payments from her trust fund. She was happy and doing all right for herself, and I was damn proud of her.
We congratulated the bride and groom before making our way around the rest of the room. The entire time, I played with the controls to her toy, watching her as she tried not to react every time I turned up the intensity. At one point, she turned around and bit her knuckle as another orgasm raked through her body. I think that was number three. Maybe four.
I was having a blast, and seeing her like this made my dick harder than it had ever been.
Julia turned on me, her eyes wild, her body glistening, and her face framed with curls that had come loose. She grabbed my hand and tugged me back into the dressing room, locking the door behind us.
“I have a surprise for you,” she said, backing me up against the door.
“What kind of surprise?” I asked, enjoying the role reversal.
She dropped to her knees, unzipped my pants, and freed my rock-hard cock. She licked it from base to head and I let out a moan. I was so damn sensitive she wouldn’t have to do much before I lost control.
“Revenge. I think I’m gonna tease you until you take this thing out of me and fuck me properly.”
Her lips covered the head of my cock and I sucked in a breath. She took me deep into her throat as I played with the controls again. She moaned, and I almost shot my load down her throat. I tried to pull back, but she must have changed plans, because she grabbed my ass and encouraged me to fuck her mouth. As I pumped in and out of her, I hiked up the vibration of her toy to full blast.
We came together while the party raged next door. And when we finished, I cradled Julia in my arms, stroking the loose hair out of her face and kissed her deeply. “I have another surprise for you,” I said.
She giggled. “I don’t think I can handle another one.”
I kissed her forehead and squeezed her against me, before releasing her to stand on her own. Her legs were a little wobbly, but four or five orgasms in a row will do that to a person. She looked thoroughly fucked and absolutely breathtaking.
“I didn’t want to do this here,” I said, holding
her hand. “I’ve been trying to figure out the perfect place… the perfect way to handle this shit, but I can’t wait any longer. I don’t want to wait.” I dropped to one knee and pulled a box from my pocket. I’d been carrying the damn thing around for a week, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pop the question. This location and timing probably wasn’t the best, but my patience was shot, and I knew what I wanted.
“Marry me?” I asked.
Her eyes softened as she looked from me to the box. I popped it open to reveal the square solitaire I’d purchased for her. I didn’t know shit about rings, but thankfully Emily had been available to help me pick this one out. I’d wanted to go bigger, more expensive, but Emily had insisted this was the one. As Julia silently stared at the ring, I had my doubts.
“If you don’t like the ring, we can get you a different one.”
No response.
My heart felt like it was in my goddamn throat. She didn’t move. Didn’t say shit.
“Jules?”
“The ring’s perfect, but we’ve only known each other for a couple of months,” she whispered, her gaze still locked on the box. “This is crazy.”
Fuck. She was going to say no. I didn’t know what to do, so I stayed there waiting like a damn imbecile.
Her gaze met mine and tears flooded her eyes. “But crazy’s kind of our thing, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “Yeah, we do that shit well.”
“Yes.” She nodded, grinning. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Marcus.” She gestured for me to stand. “Now, put that on my finger so I can take a picture and send it to Laura. She’s going to flip.”
Standing, I did exactly that, and after Julia sent her photo, I took her hand in mine, and we went out to celebrate with our friends. “I love you,” I whispered, kissing her cheek.
“I love you, too.” Turning to face me, she added, “You know, this is kind of fitting.”
“Hmm?”
“Our story started with a wedding, and now, you proposed to me at one. This was the perfect time and place, love.” She laced her fingers behind my head and kissed me. “And even though it sounded like a really lame line at the time, you were right. I have never met a man like you before.”
Laughing, I picked her up and carried her out into the party, so goddamn happy my chest felt like it would burst.
Published by Harley Stone
Copyright ©2018 – Harley Stone
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States
Andrew “Wasp” Marshall, VP of the Dead Presidents MC, rides life like it’s his bike, at full speed with no real destination. But when he sets his sights on an irresistible new bartender with a comical little kid, Wasp will have to decide if he’s willing to give up his carefree lifestyle and buckle down to become the man she needs.
Carly Cooper is a survivor. When an old friend turns from protective to possessive she packs up her six-year-old son and flees to Seattle, leaving everything and everyone she knows behind. Carly has neither time nor energy for Wasp’s advances, despite his panty-dropping smile and made-for-sin body.
As things between Wasp and Carly heat up, Carly’s past catches up to her and she must decide whether to trust Wasp and the Dead Presidents, or to pack up and run again.
I WAS GOING to be late for work.
It was six thirty-nine p.m., and my bartending shift started in twenty-one minutes. My apartment was six blocks from the Copper Penny, and I’d have to sprint to make it. Sprint like an Olympic athlete. Thankfully, the biker bar that I’d been working at for the past three months didn’t require its bartenders to wear high heels, and so far, nobody had commented about my tardiness. Still, I needed to keep this job. Slipping my feet into running shoes, I shoved my cowboy boots in my backpack and zipped it up before returning to the kitchen to reengage in dinner negotiations with my six-year-old son.
“Take a bite, Trent,” I said in my best no-nonsense mom voice, sliding the plate he kept pushing away back in front of him.
He curled up his lip in disgust. “But you said I could have cereal for dinner since I didn’t get it for breakfast. You promised,” he complained. Again.
“I know, but you forgot to remind me that we needed milk and we didn’t stop by the grocery store.”
“You didn’t tell me I was supposed to remind you. Or I would have. My memory is way better than yours.”
Reasonably certain my sweet little monster had siphoned away my brain cells during his trip down my birth canal, I had to agree. “Yes, Trent. You remember everything.” Unfortunately. I shoved silver hoops through the holes in my ears and glanced at the clock again. Six forty-two.
“Like I remember you said I could have cereal for dinner,” my relentless little tyrant said.
And we were back to square one. Truthfully, we’d never left square one. At this point, I wasn’t even sure there was a square two. I was sadly outmatched with no hope of ever winning. Still, I tried. “You like chicken nuggets,” I pleaded, picking one up and dancing it toward his mouth.
“But you said—” His lips clamped down as soon as I reached them. Nugget, denied.
Frustrated, I tossed the nugget back on his plate and pushed away from our small wooden table. “I know, Trent. I know.”
“You’re still here?” our roommate, Jessica, asked as she walked into the kitchen. “Go. I’ve got the little man.”
Jessica was a Godsend. I’d called her from a hotel in Kennewick six months ago, when I found her “roommate wanted” listing online during a mad dash to Seattle from my hometown of Silver City, Idaho. Jessica and I had agreed to meet up for coffee and discuss the possibility of me and Trent invading her space as soon as I made it into town. But when my nineteen-ninety-seven Honda Civic with about a billion miles on it limped into Seattle’s city limits and promptly wheezed its last breath, I had nobody else to call. Thankfully, Jessica rescued me and Trent from the side of the freeway, stuffed the trunk of her car with our clothes, and took us home. Then she helped me call around until we found a donation center willing to tow the car.
Now she was doing me a huge favor by watching Trent in the evenings, so I didn’t have to pay a sitter. She was an angel, and there was no way I’d leave her to face the fiery wrath of a six-year-old whose promise of cereal had been revoked.
“Mom forgot milk,” Trent blurted out, throwing me right under the bus.
“I have coconut milk,” she offered.
See? She’s an Angel. “Thanks, but he won’t drink it.”
Another glance at the clock told me it was six-forty-eight. Time to tap into my single mom superpowers and get creative. I popped open the fridge and studied its contents, homing in on a pint of vanilla creamer. There was maybe a half cup left in the pint.
Reasonably certain vanilla creamer had zero nutritional value, I grabbed it anyway, then mixed it with enough water until it was the consistency of two percent milk. Then I poured Trent a bowl of granola—the healthiest cereal in our cupboard—and dumped my creamer/water concoction over it. Smiling widely, like I’d made him some sort of treat rather than MacGyvering his dinner, I offered it to him and held my breath.
Trent looked from me to the creamer container, eyeing us both skeptically. Then he took a small bite and smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”
Releasing my breath, I bent and kissed his forehead.
“I don’t know whether to be appalled or impressed,” Jessica said, shaking her head.
“I have that effect on people a lot.” I planted a kiss on each of Trent’s cheeks and slipped the straps of my backpack over my shoulders. “I gotta get out of here. Trent, be good for Jess.”
He saluted me with his spoon. Wondering where he’d picked up that particular behavior, I waved, and hurried out of the house feeling like a hero who needed to dodge the nutrition police.
***
The Copper Penny Bar and Grill always had at least one biker at the door checking IDs. Tonight’s burly, tattooed stud was a Hispanic guy who went by
the name of Spade. All the bikers had nicknames, and since I kept to myself and didn’t mingle with the Dead Presidents, I hadn’t asked why. Spade worked the door often, and as soon as he saw me, he gestured me past the small line that was forming.
Still hot and winded from my jog, I slid past him and entered the building. Since it was summer and still sunny outside, I had to give my eyes a second to adjust to the dim hanging lights. Like everything else in the club, the glass lights were coated with a layer of nicotine and time that no amount of scrubbing could hope to remove.
Walking into the bar always felt like stepping back in time to the late seventies. Wood paneling, wood floors, and an arched wood ceiling led me past speakers that mostly played a mix of old-school rock bands, and into the employee break room. Tugging my boots from my backpack, I replaced my tennis shoes and shoved everything else in my locker, sliding the key into the pocket of my Daisy Dukes.
Glancing into the mirror, I straightened my Copper Penny logoed tank top, tightened my pony tail, and wiped away the sweat-smudged makeup beneath my eyes. I was nine minutes late by the time I clocked in, grabbed my apron, and headed for the bar.
Flint, the bar manager, was pouring drinks, which was never a good sign. Still tying on my apron, I slid in beside him.
“Where’s Jen?” I asked.
“She had to go home early,” Flint replied, pouring a beer and handing it to one of at least twenty sexy bikers crowding around the bar. Seriously, my workplace held so much man-candy it should be named Diabetes.
“Sorry I’m late.” I washed my hands at the bar-side sink then spun around, preparing to take my first order.
Wasp, the biggest, sexiest biker of the group was perched on the stool directly in front of me, half leaning over the bar. “That’s okay, babe. I’d say you’re right on time.”
