“No.” Tom grabbed it and pulled out his wallet. “What kind of man would I be if I didn’t buy you lovely ladies dinner?”
“It’s the least you can do for the comedy show Mandi put on,” Grace said with a wink. “I’m going to finish this water and then I’m taking you home, Mandi.”
“You two can go solo,” Mandi said. “I’ll grab a taxi.”
Tom shook his head.
“You’re not going home alone in the dark.” He felt ten feet tall when Dakota’s golden eyes glimmered and her soft lips curved up, exposing her small, white teeth. God, she made him feel like a hero, like he wasn’t stalking the underworld looking for a man who’d signed his death warrant with a hail of bullets.
He followed her to Mandi’s building and then back to her own. When she crooked her finger at him and asked him to come up, he was powerless to resist.
Inside, Grace reached out and dragged him to her, pressing her lips to his and drinking him in with a moan. “God, you feel so good,” she whispered as she pushed off his jacket and ran her hands over his back, tracing the lines of his muscles. “Kiss me.”
He slid her jacket and the light sweater she wore under it off, leaving her in a jean skirt and tank top. “Take off the wig. I want to see you.”
She nodded, then reached up and twisted her fingers in the fake hair. He heard pins rain down to the floor and then the bright blonde hair was down and she was peeling off the cap on top of her head. Once it was gone, he could see the luminous blue-black of her hair. When she unwound the bun, it fell down straight and silky to her lower back.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, dragging her down to the couch so she was perched on top of him, facing him. Her tresses tickled his skin when their lips met and lingered.
“I want more tonight, Dakota.”
“What do you want?” The words were barely words, just whispers over his skin where her teeth skimmed over his neck.
“I want to know your real name.”
_____
Grace shivered and wrapped her arms around him. “I don’t think you want that,” she said, but knew she was lying. Tom craved the information. “Not at all.”
But he did—and she knew it. His skin was so warm and smelled so good. It made her head swim and distracted her so that she almost whispered the truth to him, secrecy be damned. Chief Anderson’s warnings swam in her head and she frowned, sitting back on Tom’s knees with her own pressed into the couch so that her center was only separated from him by her panties and his jeans.
“I can’t give you that,” she said finally, rejecting the idea of distracting him with her body. “But I want more with you too.” She did. Was so hot from the hard press of him against her that her hands itched to take off her clothes, then his.
“Why can’t you?”
“Because I’m not ready,” she whispered, looking down. He lifted her chin and pushed back her hair, meeting her eyes.
“Okay, then.” He kissed her, soft and sweet. “Then you can just tell me whenever you are.”
The glow she always felt around him intensified until it felt like her stomach contained a piece of the sun. Wrapping her arms around him, she moved her body back and forth over the hardness swelling under his jeans and a low moan escaped her throat. “You feel so good,” she said as he began to kiss his way down her neck, marking a trail to where the tops of her breasts swelled over her tank.
It shouldn’t feel this good with this man—not someone who was more than just slightly affiliated with what the police considered a gang. The Storm Runners weren’t the worst men in town by any means, but they were the ones with whom one did not fuck. Even the gang bangers who’d shoot a cop faster than they’d share a cigarette steered clear of the neighborhoods where Storm Runners’ family members lived. As crime spiked in the city, the members started patrolling those streets and the body count had risen—then dropped.
His lips on her cleavage wasn’t enough; she needed more of him, the heat and flash of his breath on her skin. She reached down and pulled off her tank top, letting it drop on the floor behind her and whispered “Fuck,” when Tom took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking with light pressure while his tongue laved the sensitive bud.
She could lose her job, but his mouth was a miracle that set her skin buzzing.
He didn’t even know her name, but he knew what her skin tasted like now. One of his big hands came up to cover and warm her other breast while his lips made her strain against him. She ran her fingers through his thick hair and grinded on his lap, letting her head fall back as her breathing quickened.
“You’re,” he said, pulling away to kiss her mouth between words, “so perfect. Every inch of you is perfect I want to touch you.” He returned his mouth to her breasts and she clutched as his shoulders as the sensations became overwhelming. She was so wet that when she took his hand and brought it between her legs, she knew he could feel it through her panties.
“You sure?” He looked into her eyes and she could see the fire burning in his. An inferno she wouldn’t be able to put out once he parted her legs—and one she didn’t want to bank.
“I am.” He slid his fingers under the soaked cotton of her panties and found her flesh, sensitive and swollen. “Damn, you’re so wet. Were you this wet on my bike the other night when you pressed your sexy little body right up against mine?” His skilled fingers quickly found the spot where she needed them, massaging gently while he kissed her neck.
“Don’t stop.” Her other lovers had been slow build up and strong release, but this was something new. Grace couldn’t stop circling her hips to rub on his hand, urging him faster. Wild, for the first time in her life, she urged him to push her over the edge she so desperately desired. If it meant losing her job and quitting the investigation, maybe it would be worth it for one perfect moment with a man she shouldn’t want.
Maybe—and then he changed angles just a little and her world exploded.
Grace buried her face in his neck to muffle the scream as she came, hot and desperate, moving against him. Once her motions slowed, he eased her off his lap onto the couch and leaned her against the arm. “I’m not done yet,” Tom said, and his eyes gleamed. He rubbed her thighs to soothe, then grasped her skirt and yanked it down. Her panties followed and she was bared to him in the dim light.
“Perfect,” he said, one corner of his lips curving up. He lifted one of her legs up on the couch and she shivered, knowing what he intended. Kneeling between her thighs, he parted her and slowly licked, a broad drag up her center.
“Oh fuck,” she moaned, her hips bucking. Tom used a light touch to hold her to the couch and pressed a kiss directly to her clit, his tongue coming out to tease and torment. Grace didn’t know how she’d ever let anyone else do this again, she thought as he explored every inch of her, leisurely licking, sucking, kissing and driving her out of her mind.
“You taste so fucking good,” he murmured against her skin, the words teasing her as he spoke. “I could eat you forever.”
“Tom…” Her center was so tight and hot. She couldn’t breathe when he slid his tongue inside her.
“Don’t come yet,” he said, pulling back and looking up at her. “Not yet. I want more of you.” But it was an effort for her not to reach for the stars he put in front of her eyes, so close that she could stretch up and feel the burn that wasn’t so far away. Grace panted and arched her back when he kissed a line up her thigh and focused on her center again.
“Tom, I can’t wait much longer.” Each word was a hard bite of sound forced out between her teeth. She couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop the tight pleasure that wracked her body and spiraled her up and up and up until—
—she snapped.
The stars rushed in and she exhaled on a long moan, all the wound-tight muscles and expectant pressure blowing out and pure pleasure washing over her body like a warm wave. It sunk into her while Tom eased off, kissing her gently, licking slowly, pushing her though one more swell of bliss.
“Just one minute and we’ll keep going,” she said, though the room was already hazy at the edges and the long day that came before had taken its toll.
“No more tonight,” he said. “You’re exhausted.”
“But what about you?”
“You are what I want,” he said. “Seeing you go over like that—it was beyond hot.”
“But…”
“Another time,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Just rest.”
So she did.
_____
She said his name when she went over the edge.
While she dozed in his arms and he watched the clock, knowing that he needed to get back to the clubhouse to get some sleep so he’d be closer to the bar and could do accounts in the morning, his mind was whirring.
He didn’t know her real name, but he knew how she felt when she came apart.
A woman was the last thing he needed right now, but she made him feel alive again.
Finally he pulled her tighter against him and stood, crossing the room to set her on her bed and slide the covers up over her naked body.
“I’d stay,” he said, tucking the duvet tighter around her, “but I have to go into the club in the morning. I don’t want to wake you up early.”
“Good,” she said, a small laugh escaping. “I had a very strenuous night.”
He kissed her, brushing back her hair with his fingers. “Sleep well, beautiful.”
“Goodnight, Tom.”
She fell asleep before he left the room.
CHAPTER 12
“Late night. Any leads?” Ace was cleaning up the clubhouse bar when Tom walked in. The first rays of dawn already slipped over the horizon.
“None,” Tom said. “I was out with Dakota tonight, not hunting Butch.”
“You look remarkably sober.”
“And you still look like an asshole.” Tom started for the stairs, and stopped when Ace spoke again, turning in his tracks.
His once-friend was standing with his elbows braced on the wet bar, looking intently at Tom. He looked tired, the lines around his eyes deeper than the year before.
“I didn’t mean to come off like an ass,” Ace said. “I meant that it was nice to see you sober.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Tom turned back to the stairs and started heading up.
“I miss him too, you know.”
“You weren’t his son,” Tom said. “He was my father and you don’t even care enough to avenge him. Don’t pretend like you understand what I’m going through.”
Ace lifted his hands, a gesture of peace. “Max wasn’t my father, but he was the closest thing I had to one. Running the club without him is like performing surgery blind, Tom. We all lost him. But, fuck, man, I wish we didn’t lose you too.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t come on the runs with us. I know you’ve been juggling shifts so you don’t have to be on the rotation. I haven’t seen you at most parties or barbecues since you found out about Butch. You’re slipping man—and I’m letting you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m letting you because I think maybe you’ll find that asshole and make him eat lead. We all need that to happen. But fuck, Tom. Most of the time, I want to punch you in the goddamn face and drag my friend out of this asshole walking around that looks just like him. But if I do that and you come back to life, maybe we don’t find Butch.” Ace sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I have the club. Jack is barely managing to get rid of the last of our stock at a profit and Crash is completely focused on getting the new businesses up and running. None of us have the ability to go after Butch the way you do, and most of the new guys—the guys that weren’t at the bar the night Max was killed—they don’t know Butch like we did.”
“Thanks for the vent session, counselor,” Tom said. “I’m going to bed. You think you’re running the club, but you’re really running it into the ground. I’d rather still be bagging coke and taking guns down south than opening fucking strip clubs and bars. I don’t know what the fuck my dad saw in you, but I don’t have any of his faith.” He felt like a miserable shit for saying it, didn’t mean any of it, but didn’t take it back.
“Taking the club straight—making it about freedom and the machines instead of drugs and other downward spiral shit—that was your dad’s plan. I’m here for that. If you’re not, you can get the fuck out.” Tom looked at him, mouth open, but didn’t respond. Ace scrubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. “I don’t want that. I don’t have the time to devote every second to finding Butch,” Ace said, not taking back his harsh words. “But I do have you. That’s where my faith is these days. I just hope that once he’s dead, you’re the man I came up with.”
Tom was shocked enough that he almost went back to the bar and sat down. But instead he just nodded and left the room. That night, he thought of Dakota and the way her nose crinkled when she laughed at her friend. That led to memories of how he used to laugh with Ace, Crash and Jack—not to mention the others who were all bones and dust by now.
He’d spent so much time thinking about the people who died, he’d stopped thinking about his friends who were still alive.
Then he thought of Butch’s grin the last time he’d seen him, pulling away from the house where women were kept in chains.
It wasn’t enough.
The man had to die.
_____
Two more weeks and seven more dates. Tom was at the club more than any of the individual bouncers and the night she’d spent at Thunder while he served drinks and flirted with her in the slick wood, leather and chrome club was a nice change up.
That night, she’d paid him back in kind for the pleasure he’d given her on her couch. The leap of his muscles and the few sounds he made while she licked and sucked and kissed his swollen flesh were beyond arousing. It was all Grace could do to stop herself from crawling up his tight, muscled body and riding him until they both found bliss together. But something held her back—and it wasn’t just that he called her Dakota when he touched her.
She wanted him to know her—really know her. The more he told her about his family and past, the goals he claimed to have had before his father died, the more she admired him. The more she wanted to see the man he’d been before the massacre. But even if he never appeared, she knew she still wanted something more with the taciturn man with shadowed eyes and skilled hands.
Something more had never been part of the deal.
So she kissed him and made him come and screamed under his hands and mouth, but didn’t go farther, even when her body was straining and soaked.
The investigation has to end sometime, she told herself. He’ll forgive me, then. And I’ll tell him the truth. But she couldn’t make herself believe it, because motorcycle club vice presidents didn’t date police officers. Even police officers who doubted their career choices more with every news report that discussed unsolved crimes in the city.
On Thursday, she chipped her manicure and spilled a pot of hot tea down the front of her jeans. Writing up her most recent notes for her chief—all of which amounted to “I haven’t found anything out”—had storm clouds forming in her apartment. She was sagging inside, tired of the job. Tired of being a cop. Wondering why she’d signed up for it in the first place.
By the time her shift rolled around, she was sure she’d rather be getting a tooth drilled at the dentist than actually squeezing into her tiny skirt and spending a few hours spinning around the pole at the Ladies Night. Though she’d never anticipated the work, this was the first time in weeks that she’d had a twist in the pit of her stomach as she packed her bag and walked o
ut the door.
It took thirty minutes for the cab to get downtown and her least favorite bouncer, Jerome, was waiting at the front door.
“You’re looking real fine this evening,” he said, and his massive paw reached out to squeeze her ass.
Not in the mood to put up with his bullshit, she dodged his hands and headed into the club without saying a word. Evenings like this made her wish that she could pull out her service pistol and whip it into his face. Just once. A good hard crack that would make him think twice before he tried to grab another woman.
In the dressing room, she stripped off her heavy coat and tennis shoes, then her jeans and t-shirt from an old spring break trip to the Bahamas. The material felt light in her fingers, and she closed her eyes, imagining that the heat of the makeup lamp on her face was the sun, that if she looked there wouldn’t be an empty room full of hastily discarded clothing and dust, but instead the smiling face of Jessica, her best friend from school, as she approached with two margaritas so frosty that Jess would set them down with a thunk and declare that her hands were half frozen.
But daydreaming wasn’t going to change anything. No, the truth was that it was just going to be another night of men grabbing for her while she desperately tried to keep an eye on women who were trying to avoid being watched as they snuck out the back.
At least Tom will probably show up. One corner of her mouth crept up while she changed her serviceable black bra and panties for a sexier set with bright pink rhinestones that dug into the soft skin of her torso. He’d come in almost every night that she’d worked for the past two weeks—and despite her better judgement, she’d been happy to see him every time. Even knowing the relationship couldn’t last wasn’t enough for her to spray pesticide on the butterflies in her stomach every time he turned that lazy grin on her.
Each shift that he’d come in for, he’d sit right by the stage and watch her dance. More than once, he’d had a word or two with men who reached out to touch her and there was some kind of comfort in knowing that when her back was turned, he still had an eye on it. Maybe they couldn’t be anything in the long run, but Grace promised herself that she wouldn’t regret whatever it was they were able to have, as long as they were able to have it.
STRIKE: Storm Runners Motorcycle Club 2 (SRMC) Page 7
