by Nia Farrell
“Whatcha think?”
He didn’t know how long she’d been standing in the door. She bit her lip and held her breath.
“These are great,” he said. “With a real eye for detail. Are they yours?”
She smiled then. “Yeah.” Crossing to where he stood, she pointed to a small color print. A pair of horses grazed in a pasture, backlit by the sun. “I took that when I was seven. I loved horses, especially Friesians. I begged my dad to buy me one. He never did, but he did find a place that rented quarter horses for trail riding. For years, every birthday, that was the top of my list.”
“And now you’ve graduated from riding horses to riding Hogs.”
“Looks like it.”
The doorbell sounded. “That’s probably them. C’mon.”
Chapter Eighteen
Isabella liked Rose McLanahan. She liked Michael “Crash” O’Flaherty.
Amazingly, so did Sophia.
The four humans were seated at her parents’ dining room table, finishing a meat lover’s pizza that had been steaming hot when it was delivered. It was past lunch time when Michael had finished his assessment. He agreed with Mad Dog. They needed to stay at the clubhouse.
Mad Dog thanked him for checking. “The problem is, we can’t leave Sophia, and we can’t take her to the clubhouse. Most strangers freak her out. For whatever the hell reason, she seems okay with you guys.” He looked at Michael. “We were hoping you might consider keeping her for us until Isabella’s parents get back.”
Rose looked at Michael, excitement dancing in her brilliant green eyes. Her auburn hair was closest to their mother’s. Michael had the classic Pierce Brosnan Irish coloring, with black hair and blue eyes.
“I’m okay with it,” Michael said. “Rose?”
Mad Dog’s sister was all for it. “We’ll be happy to help,” Rose chirped. “I can reschedule a few things to spend more time with her. Hopefully, we can help her avoid abandonment issues.”
“Thank you! You have no idea what this means to me!” Isabella exhaled in relief. She had hoped that Rose would agree to cat-sit, but Michael’s willingness surprised her. It was revealing to her, how Sophia had warmed to both men. Clearly, Michael and Mad Dog both liked cats. “Not every man wants a cat around. My dad, case in point. And Sophia knows it. Not that he’s mean to her or anything,” Isabella added quickly. “He just likes dogs better. I’ll have my car back tomorrow. I’d like to visit her, if that’s okay?”
Rose looked at Michael. Her rescuer, her lover, her Dominant. Her future husband, but no one was supposed to know. She had sworn Isabella to secrecy before telling her that, and something else.
Michael had given Rose more than a weekend getaway for her graduation. He’d gotten her pregnant, too.
“Sure,” Michael said smoothly. “Mad Dog can give you our cells. Call us, and we’ll figure a time that works for all of us. Feel free to bring the big man with you.”
Rose did accounting. Michael did cyber security and security systems. Both of them had home offices and would need to schedule visits around their work. Rose had a set routine, but Michael’s was constantly changing, depending on what calls came in. As soon as he was done here, he’d be going back home to continue tracking down the source of the video leak. He had already reviewed the Paradise Found security footage recorded after Mad Dog and Isabella were there. Other than Lee meeting with the county mounties, no one else had been in the office to copy their triple-X tryst.
Once lunch was done and the table cleared, the four of them took Isabella’s suitcase, the cat’s things, and Sophia in her pet carrier to Michael’s SUV. Isabella rode in the back seat with Sophia, praising her for being a good, brave kitty and promising to visit every day.
Michael’s home was in a sprawling subdivision, with tasteful homes built on large lots, leaving plenty of space between houses that typically boasted backyard pools and beautifully landscaped yards. He didn’t have a pool, but he did have a bar and a hot tub, located in a sunroom for year-round use. A wall of hinged glass doors could be fully opened to a backyard dotted with bird feeders, a variety of trees, flower beds, and berry bushes. Everything was surrounded by a tall, wooden privacy fence.
Sophia quickly picked the sunroom as her favorite place in the house. The attached bathroom was large enough for her litter box. Her food and water went by the glass wall, where she could watch the birds while she ate.
“I’m going to follow you in,” Rose told her brother. “I’ll bring Isabella’s suitcase and visit with mom a bit. That will give Michael some uninterrupted time. Without the distraction of me, he might actually find something.”
“I hope so,” Mad Dog said. “The sooner, the better. I took a call from Isabella’s uncle as you all were leaving. The lawyers won’t be able to get the video taken down until business day tomorrow, at the earliest, and the sicko from this morning used a burner phone. It could be anybody. Judging from the voice, they sound female, but who the hell knows these days.”
Isabella’s stomach lurched. A day on the internet…there was no way to hide it from her parents. The worst call of her life was coming. She was surprised it hadn’t happened yet.
Mad Dog turned to Michael. “Crash, I was thinking about taking Isabella away for the day. Get her the hell out of town and let the dust settle. Reception’s going to be shit, though. I’ll have to check in when I get a signal.”
“I’d do the same for Rose. You’ll get text messages before you get voice mail. We’ll leave both if we have any news.”
Mad Dog reached for Isabella and claimed her throat with his hand. “What do you say, babygirl? After we get your things squared away in my room, we can take a nap or take a ride. If we go mobile, you’ll want to bring your camera.”
From the glint in his eyes, she’d be getting a ride either way. But just to escape the calls, the looks that were going to start beaming her way….
“I wore my hiking shoes for you. Seems like a waste to not use them.”
Mad Dog nodded. “Good girl.”
Rose followed them to the Avenging Angels MC clubhouse and parked on the side, where the “cages” were staged, if they ever needed to evacuate the women and children quickly. Mad Dog hefted Isabella’s suitcase and carried it to his room. She had dropped her purse into a backpack, figuring it would be a more secure way to carry it while they rode, but Mad Dog made room for them both in one of his saddle bags. He added a seasoned hiker’s fanny pack that included two water bottles, power bars, nuts, insect spray, sunscreen, a first aid kit, a Leatherman tool, and a flashlight. When he was certain that they had everything, they drove south on the highway out of town.
After fifteen miles or so, Mad Dog turned onto a township road that wound its way through the countryside. The next road he took was barely one lane wide. The one after that was gravel, with “No Trespassing” signs posted. A mile later, it ended at a sprawling house, built to blend into the forest that surrounded it.
Mad Dog didn’t seem concerned about getting caught, but Isabella was. This far out in the sticks, people probably answered the door with a gun in hand and the safety off.
“Luke? The signs….”
“Still there and in good shape,” he said. “Local kids like to steal them, or spray paint ‘em, or shoot ‘em up. Welcome to the Avenging Angels’ safehouse. Where we’re headed is part of the property.”
They parked behind the house and took what they needed from his saddlebags. Luke strapped on his fanny pack and commandeered her backpack for extra water and a towel. When he wiggled the insect repellant at her, Isabella tucked her camera into her cleavage and her phone into her pocket and stretched out her arms. She appreciated that he was using due diligence. Lyme’s disease, carried by deer ticks, was all too common in their area, and she’d rather avoid the itching that came with mosquito, no-see-um, and chigger bites.
“Better check your phone here,” he said, pulling out his own. “The further we go, the weaker the signal will be.”
>
Isabella decided against it. “It will wait,” she said, not wanting anything to spoil her growing anticipation. She was itching to give her camera a workout.
Away from the house, the terrain grew rugged. They followed a deer path through the hardwood forest, pausing for shots of craggy rocks, undulating hills, and a creek that they came upon close to its source.
“It’s spring-fed,” Luke told her. “Cool even in the heat of summer. But the best part is downstream.”
Chapter Nineteen
They followed a path that paralleled the creek, with Mad Dog leading the way. Before long, Isabella heard the telltale sound of falling water. The closer they got, the louder it became. The terrain grew rockier, with sandstone outcroppings that allowed little more than lichens and an occasional fern to grow on a path that was more sunshine than shadow. Without the shade, she should have felt much warmer, but the trees had also blocked the wind. At least now they had a breeze.
Finally, the little stream tumbled thirty feet into a woodland grotto, feeding the pool below before winding on its way.
Isabella couldn’t take pictures fast enough.
“Oh, Luke!” she exclaimed. “This is wonderful! Is there a way to get down?”
“Yeah, at the far end of the gorge. It’s the only way in and out that I’ve found.”
He didn’t rush her. He made her drink some water, put the empty bottle in her backpack, and stood back to watch her work. When she’d gotten the shots that she wanted to take from above the falls, he led her to the gorge’s entrance, virtually hidden by a jumble of boulders. There was no visible trail at this point. The sides of the gorge were steep, but the escarpment formed a giant, rocky stairway to the bottom of the glen.
She turned in place, treating herself to a panoramic view of this little Eden. The earth was covered with last year’s leaves. Hardwood trees dotted both sides of the stream. Ferns sprouted from between lichen-covered stones. Raccoon tracks marked the muddy bank. Gray, fox, and ground squirrels scavenged for food and scurried to safety. A chorus of birds serenaded them from overhead.
“Watch for snakes,” he reminded her again. Most of the species here were harmless enough, but you still had to keep an eye out for copperheads, rattlesnakes, and water moccasins. Thankfully, they didn’t have any close encounters. Luke had mentioned swimming at the waterfall, but she declined after seeing a telltale ripple just beneath the surface of the pool.
Isabella took pictures until her battery ran low. Rather than drain it, she stopped, went to where Luke was sprawled on a large, flat boulder, and joined him.
“Thank you,” she said. “I know I’m only delaying the inevitable, but I’m dreading that call when my parents find out about the video. Even if it’s pulled and off the internet tomorrow, someone’s going to see it today and tell them. I swear, we have the nosiest neighbors, quick to judge and slow to help. A few of the Bible thumpers seem to hate us, mostly because we’re Catholic but also because my mother is a Visconti. Michael and Rose lucked out with their neighbors. Friendly but respectful,” she said. “And the houses are far enough apart, they don’t get reported if things get noisy.”
Mad Dog tsked and shook his head. “That’s what ball gags are for. They’re not going to stop the sounds, but they sure as hell will muffle them. There’ll come a point, we’ll need to use one, unless you want the whole fucking clubhouse to know what you sound like when I make you scream.”
That would sound scary, coming from someone else. Mad Dog’s husky voice promised more pleasure than pain.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I might hate the gag more. It doesn’t sound very appealing.”
“You’ll never know until you try it. I have a whole chest of toys, whenever you’re ready.”
“Eventually,” she promised. “Just…please, be patient with me. Everything’s new, and there’s so much to learn.”
It was hard to believe that only yesterday, she was still a virgin. What a difference a day made!
Mad Dog swept her with his gaze. Focusing on her mouth, his eyes sparked an electric blue, jump-starting her body’s primal response to this man. “Yes, there is,” he agreed in that panty-melting deep voice of his. “Taking me down your throat is gonna take practice. Lots and lots of practice.”
She held her breath, waiting for him to continue, but he said nothing, just stared at her mouth, lust burning in his gaze. He was hard again. He wanted her, but this time, he was waiting for her to make the next move.
Mad Dog wanted her to want him, too.
God help her, she did.
Dropping to all fours, she crawled to him, wordless except for her body language. She straddled his thighs, planted her index finger in his chest, and pushed against an unyielding wall of chiseled flesh.
He smiled as he went down, surrendering to her will.
Oh, my. What to do? What to do?
Now that she imagined him at her mercy, she took her own sweet time, exploring the landscape of his body, appreciating their differences. Pushing up his tee shirt to expose his skin, she kissed her way from his beard-stippled jaw to the waistband of his jeans. Below it, his hard-on swelled the front, misshaping the fabric and testing the seams.
She reached for the brass button holding the top together, stopped with her fingers at the ready, and looked at him. If she expected him to beg, she was doomed to be disappointed.
“Do it,” he growled, sucking in his gut to make the task easier for her.
The backs of her fingers brushed against his cloth-covered erection as she worked to unfasten his jeans and lower the zipper. She knew that he had briefs, but he’d chosen to wear black silk boxers for riding. The fabric would slide against the skin, and a loose-fitting style was best for circulation.
And fertility.
Something to worry about another time. Right now, she was going to work as much of his cock down her throat as she could take and let him finish in her mouth.
With her still straddling his legs, he lifted his hips enough to push down his pants and boxers to mid-thigh, freeing his hard-on. Ten inches of drool-worthy man meat rose like a pillar against his abdomen. Precum was pearled on the tip. He lay back down, giving her room to feast on the banquet of his body.
She tongued his testicles, nuzzling them, breathing in his clean, male scent. His sac had a few hairs that thickened at his pubes and formed a happy trail to a navel that was David Gandy-perfect. Cupping his balls, she remembered her first lesson. After worshipping at the base of his penis, she adored the length of his staff and kissed his crown, stimulating it with her lips and tongue, sucking it into her mouth and making him moan.
The sound thrilled her, encouraging her to go on.
She took in more of him, working her way down until her gag reflex kicked in.
“Fight it,” he growled. “Once you can control your gag reflex and learn how to align your head and neck, you’ll be able to deep-throat me.”
Like a sword swallower, she thought—only better.
Much, much, better.
Mad Dog let her practice her technique, offering suggestions and praising her when she did something that he very much enjoyed. She shifted positions, and her gag reflex improved, enabling her to take even more of him in. Although she couldn’t handle all of him yet, this time was a vast improvement over her first blow job.
She would have kept going, but this was Mad Dog. She knew that the Dominant, Alpha male biker would eventually want to take control. Hearing the shift in his breath gave her a scant second’s warning before he thrust his hands into her hair, palmed her scalp to hold her head, and started fucking her face in earnest. He was so torqued up from their session, it didn’t take long for him to finish, jacking into her mouth and shooting streams of cum against her palate.
She swallowed as fast as she could, hollowing her cheeks with suction and draining every drop from him. He shuddered to a stop and pulled her to lie on top of him, petting her hair and rubbing her back, content to just be in t
he moment. In this Eden, time was suspended. Outside threats and looming problems were left behind.
Here, the only thing that mattered was each other.
Chapter Twenty
Mad Dog insisted on going into the safehouse and checking each other for ticks before heading back to Diamond Springs. They didn’t find any attached, but Isabella did find one in Mad Dog’s hair that would have latched on, if they had waited.
Acknowledging that he was right this time, she playfully bowed to his infinite wisdom. The next thing she knew, she was bent over the end of the sofa, getting spanked, then finger-fucked until she climaxed.
They had just finished re-dressing when Mad Dog’s cell phone rang. “I need to get this,” he told her, flipping it open. “Yeah, Crash. I’m here.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell her if you tell me why the fuck you really called.” He listened, his expression boding ill. Cursing under his breath, he ended the call and looked at Isabella.
“Michael says Sophia misses you. Rose is worried that she’s not eating or drinking enough. They asked us to come by as soon as we can. I know we’ll want to check your home phone for messages in case the sicko called again, but I need to see Michael more. It looks like the video was leaked by Lee. I need to know everything he found. Need to make sure that he’s eliminated every other possibility. If he’s right, her ass is grass. Getting fired will be the least of her worries. Your Uncle Giovanni will want to deal with her, in his own way. You can probably guess what that will be. Once we’ve told him, either way, she’s fucked.”
Isabella wasn’t the kind of person inclined to hate. Growing up with a cold, hard bitch of a sister, knowing how it felt to be on Krissy’s receiving end, Isabella always made an effort to be warm and kind to people, to treat others how she wanted to be treated. Not today, though. Right now, she was beginning to hate Lee Rimmer.
But was that reason enough to sign her death warrant?
She agreed with Luke on their priorities. “We can run by the house when we’re through. And Mad Dog? This isn’t a race. I’m okay with going the speed limit, but I’d rather take our time getting back than have you open it up and scare the bejesus out of me, okay? I’ve only ever ridden on your bike. I trust your driving, but it still scares me to ride, being so open and vulnerable.”
