Their Ex's Redrock Dawn (Texas Alpha Biker)

by Shirl Anders

  “You can’t,” she said, and luckily he lowered back down, because she couldn’t have stopped him. “I walked to the festival,” she informed him, and his eyes looked hooded, with his features doing that immobile masculine thing she’d seen them do before.

  It was a badass look that sent shivers down her spine; it was very closed off and highly masculine. He’d fit right in on the bad side of town in a bikers’ bar, or with any of the Whitehorse Training and Security Facility men she worked with. WTSF men where all hardasses. Zeb might beat them, though.

  “I’m not going home,” she further informed his chiseled-ness.

  That burned a fire in Zeb’s light-colored eyes, and she very much knew that she was playing with fire. She couldn’t not know after the tongue-lashing they’d done earlier. And maybe she didn’t care. Rick was gaming her, and a man she’d had a crush on forever had just found his perfect woman and it wasn’t her. In her book that was just another big rejection.

  But sitting beside her was a man that lit her on fire like she’d never felt before.

  “I need a shot of that vodka,” she declared, reaching over Zeb, then stretching more until her breasts rolled over his chest and her hand clasped the bottle on the other side of him. Her mouth was inches from his, and her eyes were looking deep into his. His hand had lifted to steady her, by grasping her waist. That touch—the fact that he did it, steadying her to keep her from falling, told her everything. He was a good man. He was rough and edgy but good where it counted.

  “Fire, sassy ass,” he growled at her. “You’re playing with fire.” Carly felt the rumble of his voice through her breasts, and it rolled through her body, with arousal coming on strong. “Leash’s almost fucking broke,” he rasped, lower than she’d heard his voice go yet. And that strong arousal ached straight into her core.

  She blinked slowly, then licked her dry lips even slower, with his hawk-like gaze watching. Then she whispered, “Break it, Zeb.”

  One second she was above him and the next she was turned beneath him, with his big hand gripping her nape to hold her head where he wanted it. And that was with his mouth over hers. He lifted her up into his kiss, and if she thought they kissed before and it was hot, she was wrong. He’d been holding back, because now his fire and lust licked over her and he took her mouth deep and strong. She grabbed the back of his neck, holding on as their tongues feverishly kissed.

  She felt the heat and strength of his other hand cup between her thighs, and she was so surprised—it happened so fast—it moaned like a squeal out of her. There was the thinnest, wettest piece of material between his fingers and bareness.

  She should shake him off, touching her like that without any wooing kisses or harmless foreplay. But there must have been a slut living in her all these years, because what she did was arch onto his fingers stoking over her barely covered slit, with her thighs opening for him. He growled his approval, vibrating his tongue, attacking hers, and she twisted her mouth to tongue him deeper.

  Ten minutes later, Carly’s thong was stretched between her knees with her legs bent and lifted over Zeb’s head. She screamed, arching her back with her fingers digging into Zeb’s skull as he sucked her clit, driving her climax harder. Her heels bounced off his back, while her hips jerked and her bare breasts flashed palely in the moonlight. Zeb growled against her pussy, putting his whole mouth around it as she came shuddering and jerking with whines of pleasure curling from her throat.

  After the contractions started easing, she became aware of Zeb’s tongue slowly licking her slit and burrowing deep on some long, slow licks.

  “Oh Lord,” she gasped hoarsely. Then she grabbed the collar of his tee shirt, tugging and trying to get him to move and come up over her. “You,” she uttered.

  Several exploring licks later, he started to rise but stopped long enough to pull her thong off her legs and over her high-heeled sandals. She was able to spread her legs around his hips, and she reached both hands down between them, tugging on his belt buckle. “Off,” she demanded.

  She was surprised a second later when his hand covered hers to stop the frantic movements of her fingers.

  “Not taking you on the ground,” he growled.

  Carly looked up, and Zeb immediately kissed her deeply, with lots of hot tongue sweeps. The moment he lifted his lips, she gruffly exclaimed, “You. You need. I don’t care the ground.”

  “No,” he said. And she got he really meant no.

  Then she tried in a whisper, “Blow job?”

  His arm wrapped under her waist, and he pulled her upright with him, until she was basically straddling him while her uncovered breasts were pushed into his tee shirt and his hard chest underneath.

  “Hold you to that, sweetness.”

  He meant the blow job, but he wasn’t going to do her out on the blanket by the river.

  “Zeb,” she mostly whined, digging her nails into his neck.

  “Need a room.” His answer.

  Then she was lifted even more to stand, and he bent to kiss each of her nipples before he started to pull the top of her dress back up over them. Wow. Carly nearly swooned back down, but managed to lock her knees. Zeb nabbed the blanket and liquor, then he pulled her to his hog.

  Stuffing the things into the saddlebag, he ordered, “Get on.”

  Carly had no panties on, which she glanced around looking for. “But Zeb, my panties.”

  He was bent over and just raising as his big hand latched on to one cheek of her ass, through her dress.

  “Can’t say as I see that as a problem.” Her blush was complete as he straightened, but he bent to her ear. “You put that sweetness on my leather I’ll always know it’s been there.”

  Then without asking, and with strength that amazed her, Zeb lifted her so she had no choice but to swing her leg over the seat. How the heck had he done that, because she wasn’t a lightweight?

  “Zeb,” she complained, feeling herself intimately slide against his leather, while he sat in front of her.

  She was seriously going to complain that she wasn’t doing it when he sharply turned his wrist on his hand, holding the handle of the motorcycle, and his leg kicked out. Vibrations from the bike started attacking her like they had before, but this time it was very different. Her complaint choked in her throat, as it felt like a large vibrator had been attached between her thighs.

  A moan groaned from her.

  “Yeah, baby,” Zeb said, as if he knew what she felt, while grabbing her hands to pull them around his waist.

  He tugged, and her breasts were plastered to his strong back. Then he kept moving her hands until they covered the hard erection in his jeans. He did something on the handle of the bike that made the whole machine rumble harder, and she moaned out loud against his ear.

  His hand tightened above her hand over his cock, and she was in blissed-out-motorcycle-vibrator-land. She grabbed the outline of his erection and squeezed, making him laugh, with a groan thrown in.

  “Get us to a bed, sweetness,” he ordered.

  Then she found out a woman could nearly orgasm on the back of a motorcycle speeding down the highway in the black of night.

  THREE] Got A Taste Of You

  When Carly could think at all, she knew with the festival going on, a rodeo in town, and a beauty pageant, which through work she was judging, that the only place there might be a room was the lower-class Rowdie’s Motel. And she could have picked it for not being seen too, because it would be good for that. Except—

  “I know the owner. I don’t want him to see me by going inside,” she shouted into Zeb’s ear just as he pulled into Rowdie’s parking lot.

  Thankfully, Zeb didn’t argue or disagree with her, because he rode the bike down to the far end. The motel looked partially full, and there was a dubious-looking group of men hanging around a parked pick-up outside an opened door to one of the lower motel rooms.

  Zeb idled past them and back to the side of the motel office, where he slowed and kicked out a b
oot to balance the bike when he stopped.

  He turned his head partially over his shoulder. “Not leaving you out here alone, Carly.”

  Carly tried to gather her wits, but they seemed as blown as her hair coming loose from her ponytail. Talk about stepping on the wild side, she was leaping. But that still didn’t help her jumbled thoughts, which were centered on the rumble between her thighs, the smoking hot man she was clinging too, and what his mouth had just done to her.

  “Um,” she muttered.

  “What would you do about not going home if I’m not around?” he asked.

  “Comp room at Redrock Casino Hotel. But my boss is boss there too,” she answered breathlessly.

  She felt a growled rumble in Zeb’s chest, where she was holding him. “You can go in there, but you gotta be alone,” he surmised.

  She nodded. “But—”

  “Show me where it is,” he interrupted, with a final order.

  It seemed their rendezvous was screwed. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but the fact he’d give up sure sex from her because he wouldn’t leave her outside a seedy motel alone just wowed through her.

  But by the time they pulled up to a rear entrance to Redrock Casino on the hotel side, she was struggling with not just dragging him inside with her. But if she did, it would be known by her boss Vincent Whitehorse that she’d taken a man that wasn’t her husband to a room at his Indian casino’s hotel. It wasn’t even that she thought Vincent would judge her—maybe it was just the fact it would show how glaringly she’d failed with her husband, whom she wasn’t even back with for a couple weeks yet.

  Zeb turned off his bike and sat quietly as she hugged him tight from behind, and his booted feet stretched out to keep the bike balanced.

  “Where you going?” she asked with a whisper against his ear.

  “That dive will work good for me.”

  She nodded her chin against him. “Be hard to get a room anywhere else with all the events going on in town.”

  His hand came up and clasped her hand over his chest. “You sure you can get a room here?”

  “Yes, my boss keeps some open for code yellow—safe housing for abused young women.” Then she added, “It’s his charity. Where I work.”

  Zeb twisted, lifted an arm over his head, cupped the back of her skull, and pulled her mouth to his.

  “Have to tell me about that next time,” he muttered against her lips, then he kissed her long, slow, and very thoroughly.

  When he was done and she was breathless and clinging, he edged from his bike, hitting the kickstand before he stood. As soon as he helped her to stand, she latched on to him again, full frontal with her arms up over his shoulders.

  “Come in. I want you to come in.”

  He grabbed her butt, pulling her up against him, and she could feel what she was leaving him with. Twenty-one months.

  “No you don’t, sweetness. Tell me how you’re putting your dickwad off?”

  He changed the subject, but she wasn’t letting him. “I want you.” She rubbed against all that fine hardness. “I don’t care who knows.”

  His large hands squeezed her buttocks. “Got a taste of you and one time is fucking not enough, Carly. But we’re being cool on your husband, until we figure him out. Now tell me.”

  She sighed, exasperated. “I’m telling him for tonight I have a code red case that just came in. That means teen in crisis and could take all night.”

  “Those happen often?”

  “No, the guys always take those, but he knows I could be needed, so I just made myself fake needed.” Then she added, “I could fake this for a few days too.”

  “Do it,” Zeb ordered immediately.

  And Carly thought it was quite telling that she immediately responded, “Okay.”

  He kissed her again, then he unlatched them, got in his saddlebags for her purse, which he handed her, then he took her hand and walked her to the back door. She rummaged through her purse, looking for a keycard.

  “You work tomorrow?” he asked, stopping at the closed door.

  She pulled out the keycard as she answered, “It’s Sunday.”

  His hand cupped her cheek. “Is that Carly’s way of saying no?” She nodded with the beginning of a smile. “Breakfast with me,” he stated, another absolute.

  Once again, she easily followed. “Okay.”

  He pulled her up for a kiss. “We’re going to figure this out, sweetness.”

  She put a lot into that kiss, trying to tell him how much she regretted them leaving each other, until he growled in his throat and stopped them.

  “You keep kissing me like that I’m going to do you on my bike, sassy ass.” Then he took her hand with the keycard and put it in the slot, until it beeped. He pushed the door open. “I’ll be here at ten to get you.”

  A few minutes later, Carly wandered down the back hallway pretty much in a wine-cooler-plus-vodka, no-panties Zeb Daze. Her husband’s existence had been blown to smithereens in her mind. There was just something about Zeb that fired her on all cylinders into turbocharge. Oral orgasms could be a tiny part of it. She was sorely lacking in anything but self-induced after her husband made another excuse not to go to bed with her.

  Suddenly she stopped cold—then she sucked in a startled breath.

  “He hasn’t got ED or early ejaculation problems,” she muttered, which were the theories she’d been working on for his lack of interest in having sex with her.

  Even after he’d come back, asking for a reconciliation, they’d only had one stalled quickie to seal the deal. She’d been very disappointed to realize that attempt wasn’t the start of a better sex life for them, but put them right back where they’d been. So she’d been trying to figure out what his issues were, and had come up with the thought that maybe he had problems in bed he wasn’t admitting too. Like he was too quick or had ED. She’d heard around, talking to other women, that men didn’t like owning up to it, and she had evidence of both of them with him.

  “But he’s doing her; that means all those excuses I was making are crazy.” She practically growled her realization, and her Zeb Daze pretty much vanished. “Why?” she wailed, with tears starting in her eyes that further startled her.

  Then she heard footsteps and she quickly lifted her fingers, trying to wipe her tears away.

  “Carly, are you all right?”

  It was Sam Blackfoot, and he was one fine-looking Indian—and Vincent’s second in charge at Redrock casino.

  She knew him to say hello, of course, but she didn’t really know him to answer his question, as he stood looking her over with concern in his black eyes. He was a big, muscular man, with nothing soft on him but the long ponytail of hair he wore tied and falling past his shoulder blades. His gaze pretty much halted on her breasts.

  Yeah, well, he’d only ever seen her dressed for work mostly, and never dolled up for an outdoor festival where she’d really gone overboard leaving her house. She’d been trying to get her husband’s attention by the way she’d dressed—been trying to get him to perk up and go with her, but it hadn’t worked.

  Lord help her, because instead of answering Sam she just started to cry, and amazed herself by falling against Sam’s chest to sob.

  At least he didn’t push her away.

  An hour later, Carly stood in the best suite the casino hotel had, and she’d just downed another vodka from the minibar, while watching Sam tap his phone to cut a call.

  “Vincent needs some information on this, Carly,” Sam stated flatly.

  He’d been very nice to her, letting her cry on him, holding her tight while she did it, then not asking any more questions when she said she needed a room. It looked like no-question time was over. She wasn’t surprised she was willing to do just about anything to keep Vincent from knowing her marriage was on the rocks. Again.

  First off, if Vincent knew, then Cabe would know, and Cabe could not know about this. Not when he was freshly in love with a new woman. No. Cabe could not kno
w, and Cabe worked with them at WTSF. Second, Vincent was just starting his new married life with his lady Tess, and Carly was not bringing more destroyed-marriage stuff around their new happiness. However, she knew the best way to find out what Rick was up to was Vincent, Cabe, and the people at WTSF.

  But she just couldn’t go that route.

  “What did you tell him?” she asked in a whisper without answering his implied question. She’d been too upset at the time to notice what he’d said on the phone.

  “I left out the security footage I saw with a large biker making out with you hot and heavy by his bike, then halfway to the door, and then at the back door.” Sam said all of it without negative accusation, but still with a lot of some kind of emotion in his voice.

  Carly gulped, and she knew she looked scared.

  He sighed. “I’m not telling him either. You get to tell me what you want him to know.”

  Wow.

  Her heart squeezed.

  “I look so guilty,” she whispered.

  “True,” he admitted—it was harsh, but not said harshly. “But I know what kind of woman you are,” he stated, surprising her. “I’ll take faith on that.”

  “Thank you,” she said, with tears starting in her eyes.

  His gaze grew intense, and he walked toward her to put his arm across her shoulder with a squeeze. “Babe,” he uttered.

  It was like he was giving her his back, no matter what, and she hadn’t known to find that in him. “I just have to figure stuff out,” she said. Then she added, and maybe it would tell him all of it, “I’ll need the room for a few days.”

  His hand came up and nudged her cheek. “So tell Vincent you had a martial disagreement and left to stay at a friend’s, but your friend’s not in town so our comp room became your friend.”

  Carly felt Sam’s compassion deeply, and then whether she should have or not, she turned and hugged him quickly, against his ear, saying, “Thank you so much.”

  He gave her an impressive squeeze back before he stepped toward the door. “I’m here, you want to talk or need anything.” He paused at the door. “Just ask.” Then he was gone.