She opened her legs wide and began moving, matching his timing, as consistent as waves rolling in to shore. She moaned deeply with the pleasure of it, tossing her head from side to side. This was only the second time he’d done this to her, and she never wanted him to stop. When he speared her with his tongue, her back arched and she cried out, overcome with the eroticism of it. And the blissful pleasure.
“You’re so close, baby. My cock will make it even better.”
“No!” She didn’t want him to stop.
He pressed her hips down on the bed and licked hard, over and over again, until tremors of delight made her buck against the force of his hands. He slid two fingers in to her and moved them in a rhythm, continuing to pleasure her with his tongue.
It sent her over the edge.
She arched her back and squeezed her eyes shut, giving herself over to the moment and the intense pleasure. The orgasm hit her, flooding her body and her mind, exploding until she was helpless and under his complete control.
Finally slumping in exhaustion, she opened her eyes.
But he wouldn’t let her wriggle away from him. “Do you really think one orgasm is all I’m going to let you have?”
She was still trying to catch her breath, and her legs were pure jelly as he pulled them over his shoulders and dove straight back to her sex. This time, he tongue-fucked her. She rode him, clenched at him, wanting more, needing more. Although his tongue was hot and insistent, it could never replace a hard cock. That was what she wanted.
“Ask me to fuck you,” he ordered, his eyes gleaming with passion.
“No!”
She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to give in. She knew he would never rape her, but having him inside her would bind her even tighter to him. Every time he made love to her, she knew it would be harder and harder to break free.
He bit her thigh, and her eyes snapped open. “Bastard!”
“You say that so much, I’m beginning to think it’s my name.”
“It is.” The accusation wasn’t said with any force, thanks to the orgasm.
He blew lightly all along her seam, and she was so open, so wet, she rolled her hips as ripples of pleasure still shimmered along her body.
It was then she realized he was right. Troy would spoil sex with any other man.
It was impossible to calm down with this big hunk of a man between her legs. He licked either side of her clit just above the sensitive hood, and she moaned. She was so close to coming again. It was as if all her nerve endings were live wires set off by his touch.
He continued with just light licks here and there, so she rolled and sighed and moaned, the need becoming more and more urgent. Then he took her clitoris in between his lips and sucked on it, licking it over and over.
Fireworks exploded behind her eyes. She screamed with her release. Nothing had ever felt as hot and intense as this.
Nothing.
She sucked in a deep breath and screamed again as the orgasm rippled through her body, leaving her gasping. When it was finished, she couldn’t move, but she was hyperaware of him.
She needed his cock.
He reached over to his backpack and pulled out a box of condoms. “Tell me to fuck you,” he demanded.
“Tell me you care,” she countered, still breathless. “Tell me this means something to you.”
He moved up her body so the weight of him pressed into her. “I came here to protect you from my own people. Brothers I’d give my life for.”
“I want more than that.”
He scowled. “Haven’t you worked it out that I want you?”
“Not good enough.” She wiggled her thighs together, not that it would have made any difference if he wanted to take her. To her horror, tears threatened.
He stroked her face and gazed down at her, his eyes warming. “I care, princess. I don’t want to. Because I don’t do commitment.”
“Don’t spoil it. I want you in me. Just for tonight.”
She knew he was a loner, a predatory wolf dedicated to his work and his club. No room for anything else—anyone else.
He shifted off her, grabbed a condom, and rolled it on. He picked her up as if she weighed no more than a doll and flipped her on her stomach. “Get on all fours,” he commanded. “I’ve wanted this all day.”
She did as he asked, and he shoved a pillow under her hips. Positioning himself behind her, he drove into her sex.
She gasped. It was brutal, but he stilled, and with a finger stroked her clit in a rhythmic motion. She relaxed into the size and feel of him. There was nothing gentle or delicate about this man. He could never do anything other than claim.
He pressed down between her shoulder blades so her face sank into the mattress. He moved slowly at first, driving himself in and out in long strokes. His cock stroked her swollen sex, while his touch was so light on her clit she became consumed with her passion for him.
Trapping her with one hand, he rode her hard, but she was so slippery, so ready, that as he came, her sex vibrated around his cock, milking and claiming him in return.
And she knew when Troy left her life, she’d never feel anything quite like this again.
Chapter Seventeen
“I’m not getting on that. I can barely open my thighs I’m so sore. Everything hurts down there,” Stacey said, looking at Troy’s Harley, which he’d parked across her front door. He wasn’t taking any chances with Hawg. Stacey was his. Not respecting the code meant trouble.
“Ride you too hard last night?” he asked with a grin.
“Last night, all through the night, and twice this morning.” She massaged her lower back with a grimace.
True. Fact was, he couldn’t get enough of her. He tucked his arm around her waist. “You have to be seen as my woman.”
“By not being able to walk properly?” she muttered.
He laughed. “No. By riding behind me on my bike.”
“Until you leave,” she said.
“Ouch. Still mad at me?”
“Let’s not pretend this is anything more than it is.”
He pushed out a breath. “Guess I deserve that.”
He didn’t usually regret his words. But she felt so damned good in his arms. If commitment meant fucking her all night and twice again in the morning, he was good with that.
Except, a girl like Stacey would no doubt want more.
“Hopefully, Lizzie will be back soon, and things will settle down so you can drop your protective duty,” she said.
Stacey had no idea of the trap she was living in. He hadn’t told her the brothers never forgot a betrayal, especially Pa. Which meant Lizzie wouldn’t come back fast, because she understood the brothers’ idea of retribution. Lizzie would be safe. Animal would die. Stacey? The jury was still out.
He handed her a helmet. “Put this on.”
“I can’t take your helmet.”
“It’s my spare.” He liked watching her trying to get on his bike wearing that short skirt. He hoped to God she wasn’t wearing panties.
“You could have told me we were riding before I got dressed. I would have worn jeans.” She pulled down the front of her skirt and slung a leg over the saddle.
“Nah, I like you just as you are. You wearing anything under that skirt?”
“Mind your own damn business. I’ll never get to work if I answer that question, and I need to find out what’s going on at Dad’s shop.”
Troy grinned as he strapped on her helmet once she was on the back of the bike. Any excuse to touch her. He’d finally met a woman he melded with. One who was a lady like his mother. Educated and intelligent.
He started his bike and drove to Gert Town. The area was industrial, poor, and since being hit by Katrina in 2005, surviving on a sense of hopelessness. Truth was, he wasn’t going to let Stacey walk into the shop alone. She was too young, too trusting. Live bait for unscrupulous men. Or dishonest employees.
When he drove up to the shop’s warehouse, the garage door was
closed, and the place looked locked up tight. Stacey climbed off the bike, took her helmet off, and dug for her keys in the little purse she kept strapped to her waist. “Thanks for the lift. Will you pick me up at three? I have an appointment with the locksmith.”
He pulled off his own helmet. “Cancel it. You have me now.”
“But you’ll be leaving now. You don’t do commitment, remember?” she said sweetly.
“You always this annoying?”
“I save it up just for you.”
“If the brothers want you, new locks won’t keep them out. No one is getting through me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Have it your way.”
“I always do.” And another thing. He had no intention of leaving her bed anytime soon. It was too good there.
She marched up to the office door and inserted the key. “See you later.”
He strode after her. “This is a rough area. You’re not staying here alone.”
She hiked her eyebrows. “I need to go over Dad’s accounts. Get my head around what’s here. It may take a while. What will you do to entertain yourself?”
He smiled.
She put up a hand to ward him off. “What part of ‘I can hardly walk’ don’t you get?”
He laughed and went to pull her close, when an old beat up sedan drove into the parking spot.
She looked at her watch. “That’s Bill Rush, the foreman. I met him at Dad’s funeral.”
“What time is he meant to start work?”
“Nine.”
“He’s late.”
She turned to him, her sky-blue eyes troubled. “No shit. You can see why I want to be here. This is all I have, Troy. I have to make this business work.”
What was it about this woman that made him want to step up like some kind of knight in shining armor? To promise her shit he didn’t do, like relationships and commitment?
He frowned. “I don’t get it. You’re the daughter of a rich trust-fund socialite. Why are you even working?”
Her lips thinned. “Mom’s wealthy, not me. She gave me a good education. The best schools. If I ask her for money, every cent will come with an obligation—what I should do, who I should date. I don’t want that.”
“Then at least let me help.” He indicated the foreman getting out of his car.
She sighed in relief. “Thanks.”
He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, glad she hadn’t told him to butt out. He didn’t like going against her wishes.
“Dad has two men, Bill Rush who is the foreman, and Hans Rudder, on the payroll. I don’t know Bill—just from Dad’s funeral. But I do know the foreman has access to everything, including the bank account.”
Bill opened his sedan door and walked stiffly toward them. When he came close, he looked Troy up and down, taking in his leather cut with its club badges and colors. He held out his hand. “Hi. I’m Beast, Stacey’s boyfriend.”
She gave an almost silent gasp. He noticed it, but she wisely kept her mouth shut.
Funny how the word “boyfriend” had come out of his with such ease.
Bill mumbled his name and shook hands.
Stacey already had the door open and was switching on the lights. The place had a locked-up odor, and a pall of mourning hung over it like a bad smell. A framed photo sat on the desk, one of her father holding a young, white-blonde Stacey on his knee.
“Where is Hans Rudder?” she asked Bill.
“I told him to take his leave. Didn’t know if anyone was coming in. Haven’t heard from your brother lately.”
She glanced over at Troy, her bright blue eyes betraying her worry. “Brian’s on a break of his own. I’m going to take over for now.”
“Know anything about the spare car parts business, girly?” Bill asked, looking none too pleased at that piece of news.
“Her name is Stacey,” Troy said. “Or Miss Martin. Have a little respect. She’s your boss now.”
She put a restraining hand on his arm. “I’ve inherited the business along with Brian. I know I have a lot to learn,” she said to Bill, her tone polite. She strode over to the computer at the front desk and switched it on. “I’ll need all the log-in codes. I’m going to start with the invoices so I can get my head around what’s coming in and going out.”
Bill came and stood over her. “I do all the invoicing.”
Troy leaned against the wall and folded his arms, watching the interplay, not liking what he saw. “Give your boss what she needs, Bill.”
She frowned at him, then looked up at Bill with a big smile on her face. “Pull up a chair and take me through the accounts. I’d like to learn the invoicing process.”
She was charming. He’d give her that. And persistent. He hadn’t really expected her to hang around. He liked her ladylike way of dealing with people, even if it usually didn’t work. Some men only understood command and retribution.
He expected the lesson he taught Hawg in the club had been learned, but he couldn’t be sure. One way to find out how the wind was blowing was at the club’s motorcycle repair shop where he worked.
He looked at his watch. Stacey could be a while.
“Troy, why don’t I call you if I need you?” she suggested.
He gave Bill a long stare until the man averted his gaze. “Any sign of trouble, call me. My workshop is close by.”
“I will.”
He strode over and gave her a full kiss on the lips. Just the press of his mouth on her softness made him hard. He’d only known her two nights, but charade or not, he already thought of her as his.
Nobody had better mess with her. Nobody. Or they’d have him to answer to.
And that would not be pretty.
Chapter Eighteen
Troy rode to the bike shop just off Earhart Boulevard, not more than ten minutes from Stacey’s spare parts business. He parked his Harley and strode into the back where he did his repair work. He was restoring a rare WWII Harley Davidson, owned by his biker buddy, Axel. He was the only brother who was as mechanical as Troy was. He and Axel had grown up together, joined the army together, and done their special forces training together. Axel’s specialty was explosives. Troy trusted him with his life.
Axel wouldn’t let anyone other than Troy touch his beloved antique motorcycle. Troy had nicknamed it Precious.
Axel raised his eyebrows when Troy came in. He was meticulously wiping over the bike’s ugly, army-green paint job.
Troy took his toolkit down from his shelf. “What?”
“Nothin’.”
He hunkered down next to the bike. “Spill.”
Axel looked around to make sure none of the others were within hearing distance. “Heard you threw a hand grenade at your pa and Hawg.”
Troy waved a hand. “If I’d wanted them dead, they’d be dead. Besides, I wouldn’t waste a perfectly good grenade on Hawg. Think of the splatter.”
“Ugh! Bullet would be cleaner,” Axel said.
“Nah. The sleeper’s cleaner,” he said, referring to a quick method of killing they’d learned in training, which involved compressing the windpipe and carotid arteries.
“True. No leakage. Quick. But you’d have to get up close.”
“Yuck!” Troy mock-shuddered. He spread out his tools to start pulling the bike’s engine apart. The heads were running too hot, and he needed to work out why. It was unusual for this type of bike to have a heat problem.
Axel chuckled. “Hawg had to go home and change his pants.”
“I’ll be changing his face if he goes near Stacey.” He grabbed a tool and viciously wrenched a bolt free.
“Hey, don’t scratch the paint!” Axel said.
“Sorry, Precious.” Troy patted the bike.
“Hawg thinks you’re gunning for the VP position, now your service is finished.”
Troy frowned at his friend. “Who says it’s over? I’ve been offered a bonus to re-up. I don’t want Hawg’s shitty job.”
Axel snorted.
“It’s
true. I’m taking a break.” He hadn’t made up his mind whether to re-enlist or not. The more he thought about it, a vacation with Stacey appealed—one that involved room service, a private room with a sea view, and a keep-out sign. He had heaps of cash stacked away from his years in the service. Not a lot to spend it on in the desert.
Axel stopped polishing Precious, staring at him owl-like. “This girlfriend the real thing? That’s not like you.”
“What am I, some sort of jerk who can’t keep a girlfriend?”
“You said it.” Axel grinned.
“I’m not letting Hawg cut up an innocent woman. It’s not Stacey’s fault that Lizzie ran off with Animal. Can’t blame her. Snake’s fucking the whores.”
“Idiot. He had a nice girl. He should have counted himself lucky,” Axel said. “So, you banging Animal’s little sister?”
Troy thought of the way Stacey responded to his touch, the way her body rolled with a sinuous motion as she came. But he didn’t want to discuss Stacey with anyone at the club.
She wasn’t right for this place. Her ladylike manners wouldn’t suit, even if he liked them. Hell, she thought bikers were losers, anyway, and she certainly wouldn’t like the lifestyle. She’d insulted them often enough. No, the only damn place that fit was his cock in her cunt.
There was a tinkle of children’s laughter, and a man came into the front of the store where the bikes were on sale, a little boy balanced on his shoulders. Troy watched as the man lifted his son gently in his arms and sat him on a huge Harley.
A sweet picture. But the happy-home-and-children dream wasn’t for him. Stacey would be into it, though. No doubt about that.
He heard the roar of bikes, one belonging to Pa. He’d worked on every brother’s machine because everyone asked for him at the shop when he was on leave. Each bike had a slightly different sound. Like his magic hands, his hearing was finely tuned.
Sometimes he wondered if it was because he’d always lived his life on the edge.
“Here’s fucking trouble coming,” Axel said. He went over to the vending machine and got a can of soda.
Pa was gunning straight for him, with Hawg pulling up the rear, and Pervert and Barf on his tail.
“That was a fuck-ass stunt you pulled yesterday,” Troy’s father spat out.
Snatched (Outlaw Warriors) Page 9
