Stormy's Thunder: Satan's Devils MC Utah

by Manda Mellett

  And, how much of the choice is hers? Hell, she might not even want me. Neither of us went into this making any promises.

  19

  Cat…

  I knew I was attracted to Jeremiah, and more than I’ve been to anyone before. It was why I hadn’t protested when he’d suddenly changed and taken the decision out of my hands.

  If this is just once, it’s something I’ll remember for the rest of my life. I’ve never been with a man like him before.

  I suspected he’d be too much for me to handle, and he almost was. I nearly faltered when he’d told me to undress. I would have objected were it not for that dominance in his tone which I’d found myself obeying, while feeling scared that he wouldn’t like the body I’d exposed.

  He’d seen me before, but this time was different. When I was vulnerable I’d welcomed his indifference, this time I wanted him to like what he saw.

  He’d described me as perfect.

  Could it be that at last I’d found a man who didn’t expect me to order salads, or cut my hair or wear different clothes. I hadn’t adorned myself with makeup, had worn nothing more than what I normally do around the house. But it had been enough. His eagerness was the evidence.

  And oh, the sex. I’ve never come so hard before, never been with a man so focused on my pleasure. So expert in his handling of my body.

  He must have had practice.

  Well, if all the women before had helped him acquire his expertise, I’m the one getting the benefit now. But for how long? That’s the question.

  “Cat, we should talk.”

  The words every woman dreads to hear, especially when she’s found a man who can give her multiple orgasms.

  “No, don’t tense up. I’m wondering where we go from here.” He sits up. I’m prepared for him to stand, to pull his t-shirt back on and to leave with a few words of goodbye. He didn’t even bother to get completely undressed. Tears prick in the back of my eyes, but I’m determined they won’t fall, not yet. I’ll wait until he’s gone.

  I hardly dare breathe in case I sob, but as my eyes follow him, he doesn’t move far. He perches on the edge of the bed, leans forward to remove his boots, and pushes his jeans down to the floor.

  “What’s that?”

  His back is turned toward me. I sit up fast, hearing his intake of breath as I trace the large tattoo on his back.

  His hand snakes out and grabs mine as I try to make sense of what I’m seeing. This isn’t like the small lightning tattoo I’ve noticed on his neck before, this is the real deal. I might not be an expert in tattoos, but isn’t it odd that he’s got the insignia of a motorcycle club inked on his back? It’s well done, but scary, showing the grim reaper holding a scythe hovering over three little demons, with the words, Satan’s Devils MC beneath.

  The question seems pointless, but still I ask, “Are you in a motorcycle club?”

  He drops my hand and leaves his back turned toward me. “Yes. And no.”

  “You can’t have it both ways,” I snap.

  He takes another deep breath. “I feel like I’m at a crossroads. I’m a member now, but I don’t know if I want to stay one. I could go back, or forward, and for the life of me, I don’t know which I fuckin’ want.”

  “Can you leave the club, just like that?” My experience, okay, only gained from a television show, suggests he doesn’t have a choice. Isn’t it like a gang where you swear fidelity for life?

  He huffs. “No. For a start, I’d need to get the tat blacked out.”

  It’s so big, that would look awful, but I suppose it can’t be disguised. “What happens if you don’t?”

  “If I don’t go back and I keep the tat? They’ll kill me, or someone would on their behalf.”

  Gasping sharply, I cover my mouth. “This club is serious? How the hell did you get mixed up in something like that?”

  When he speaks next, I think he’s ignoring me. “I should have another tat. Active SEALs don’t advertise who they are, that’s just inviting death. But a former SEAL gets a tat to show they’ve served. But I couldn’t do that. I’m not a former SEAL. The Navy would prefer I’d never served. I could never wear their insignia with pride.”

  “So you joined an MC? An MC who’d kill you? Just to wear a tat?” That can’t be it, surely?

  He turns now. “Cat, I want you to understand. I wanted to be a SEAL until I died, but I didn’t get that chance. I left, disgraced. No one wanted me, except the Satan’s Devils MC.” He puts his fingers on my lips. “Before you judge, listen to me?” His voice pleads in a way I’ve not heard from him before.

  I nod, knowing I shouldn’t rush to make judgement.

  “The Satan’s Devils MC has a number of chapters, but it was Utah who approached me. They, well, they call themselves bikers, live the lifestyle up to a point. But we do more than ride motorbikes. We’re technical experts, and I fit right in with my computer skills. We ride in to right wrongs. If someone’s been kidnapped, we extract them. If someone’s under threat, we protect them. We’ve stopped sex trafficking rings, ended gun running trades.”

  My eyes widen. “You’re the good guys? But isn’t that like the FBI or something?”

  He gives a quick grin. “Yeah, but sometimes our methods aren’t legal. We’re not bound by red tape.”

  “Like a modern day Robin Hood?”

  His lips curve further. “I’d never say never, but we haven’t robbed the rich to pay the poor as yet.”

  I try to work out whether to believe it’s as good as it sounds. “So you’re still working for your country, just not on the side of the law?”

  “Something like that. Trying to put the world to rights and to keep it that way. Or, they are. Me, not so much. Not since I betrayed them.”

  “You…” I’m stunned. Jeremiah wouldn’t betray anyone, would he? “You, betrayed them? How? Why?”

  He lets out a loud sigh. “My name’s not Jeremiah Briggs. I’m Finn Palmer.” Finn. That suits him much better. But he hasn’t finished his explanation. “And I go by the same handle I did in the SEALs. I’m known as Stormy. And babe, yes, before you try and figure it out, it’s because I’ve got a short fuse.”

  But he’s been immeasurably patient with me. My brow furrows. “I haven’t seen that side of you.”

  “No.” His lips press together. “Don’t ask me why that is, but when I said I felt at peace here, what I meant was that with you, the anger driving me has gone.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “It’s not me,” he says, his forehead creasing. “But I can’t deny I like it. I’ve never been able to relax before, but with you, I don’t look for ulterior motives. I trust you, Cat. And you have no fuckin’ idea how rare that is.” He pauses, closes his eyes for a second, then shakes his head. “I’ve never just seen a person and known instinctively they were trustworthy, not the way it was with you. I tried to fight it, tried to say you weren’t exactly as you seemed, but I could never make myself believe it.”

  “You had proof,” I point out. “I couldn’t have chained myself in the cellar.”

  “It wasn’t just the evidence of my eyes, babe.” He reaches out and brushes hair off my face. “That was all you, which means I’m in a conundrum.” I tilt my head until he explains. “I don’t want to walk away from you. How can I? How can I leave something I might never find again? This isn’t me. I don’t cuddle after sex, I get up and go. But I couldn’t leave you if a team of horses tried to drag me out of here.” He pauses and gives a self-deprecating grin. “Part of the reason I tried to resist was half of me knew how this would end. With me, wanting to keep you.”

  Trying to lighten the moment, I wink. “I thought it was my body you couldn’t resist.”

  He chuckles. “There’s that too. Didn’t even need the trial run, babe, to know you were going to be perfect.”

  I reach out my hand and touch his. “It was perfect. You’re perfect. But what are you going to do?”

  “That’s what I’m wonderi
ng,” he admits. “But for now, how about I prove it wasn’t a fluke? After that we’ll go cook those steaks.”

  “And talk later?” I don’t want to be left hanging. Now he’s let me in, I want to know everything about him and what makes him tick.

  “Yeah.” He pushes me back, his lean body pressing into mine, and his lips find my mouth. As his tongue pushes inside, I twist mine around it. He doesn’t pull back or make like this is just a prologue to something else. As my hands curl into his hair, I can’t remember enjoying a kiss quite so much.

  I feel a hardness poking at my stomach, and his movements become more urgent as he rubs his cock against me. I can’t help my hips pressing back.

  “Someone’s eager,” he murmurs, his face still close to mine.

  I think we both are, but I keep that response to myself.

  “On your knees, give me that ass.”

  “My ass?”

  That boyish grin appears once again. “Well, maybe not your ass right now, unless you’re offering. But one day, I’ll take you there.”

  I’m obviously too slow, as he manoeuvres me to where he wants. I hear a crinkling of a packet behind me, and a tersely asked question, “Are you still wet?” He finds the positive answer out for himself, and before I have time to think, he slams inside me.

  It’s a shock, making me gasp, but oh fuck, it’s so damn sexy. His hands grasp my hips, pulling me tight in to him.

  “You feel so fuckin’ good,” he gets out between pants.

  “So do you!”

  He releases my right hip. Suddenly I feel a slap of his palm on my flank. I startle, but arousal floods through me.

  “I think you liked that.” He does it again.

  I want to protest, want to tell him I don’t. I want to explain how nice ladies don’t appreciate being spanked in the middle of lovemaking but hell, how can I do that when I feel my muscles start to tense?

  “Yeah, my Cat likes that.”

  It seems that I do, and that my body isn’t under my control anymore as his cock moves over my G-spot. He releases my other hip, his hands now doing a one-two motion, a slap one side followed by a second on the other.

  I can’t breathe as my orgasm starts to build, my muscles clench as everything tightens. I’m reaching… reaching…

  He slaps both my buttocks at the same time and I scream.

  “Christ, fuck, woman.” His movements are jerky, his words gasped as he comes inside me. “Fuck, you take all my control.”

  I suppose I’m feeling quite pleased with myself. “Is that a bad thing, Jeremiah?”

  He’s rested his chin on my back, but now he raises his head. “Call me Finn,” he says tersely. “I can’t pretend with you, Cat.”

  Is it a good thing he’s reclaiming his name? Or does he also want to reclaim his life? Where will that leave me?

  I’ve kind of gotten used to having him here. Moving what we have to the physical level signals to me we could be building something good. But what if he’s still planning to leave?

  As his flaccid cock falls out, he deals with the condom in the same way as before, then rolls over onto his side. I turn so I can look at him, memorising his features as if preparing myself to losing him now.

  Brushing back my hair with his hand, he sighs. “What’s that look for?”

  I breathe in deep. Should I let it ride, should I hide my fears? Should I steal another few hours, days or whatever we have left? But I’m not that girl. I don’t bury my head in the sand. I’m the one who forced my mom to tell me what was wrong when she’d tried to hide her symptoms. Knowing means you can face what’s ahead, even when it’s something you’d prefer to avoid.

  “You asked me to call you Finn. Are you taking back who you are? And what does that mean for me?”

  He’s silent so long I think I may have it right, but different words come out of his mouth. “I don’t know how to do this, Cat. For the first time in my life, I want to stay in one place. I’m comfortable, content, and I don’t know what to do with that. Of course, you might not want me around, and even if you do, we might not be able to make this work.”

  “I’ve got dreams too… Finn.” His name sounds alien on my tongue, but also right. “I moved away to follow my career. I could have stayed closer, but I wanted to experience city life. I’d been a farm girl, grew up in a small community. I wanted to stretch my wings and branch out.”

  “Did you find what you wanted, before you came home?”

  Shaking my head, I admit, “I couldn’t find my place. There, I was a small fish in a big pond. Here, I’m still small fry, but the pond’s just a puddle and offers nothing for me. I don’t think I’ve ever found what I’m looking for.”

  “You ambitious, babe?”

  “Not particularly, no. I want to pay my way in the world, that’s why I became a nurse. I enjoy what I do, but it’s not everything to me.” I risk a look at him, knowing if I’m honest, I could turn him off. “I suppose I wanted what my parents had. A happy marriage, a baby or two.”

  His face has tightened and he grimaces. “I never thought I could offer a woman much. I didn’t have a good example with my parents. Kids? Never been around them. While other chapters of the Satan’s Devils are family orientated, that’s not happened at the Utah club.”

  “You don’t want children?”

  “Cat,” he props himself up on an elbow, leans over and clasps my chin, “before I met you, I’d have said I never wanted a relationship at all. Now I’m thinking how the fuck I can keep you. Kids? Can’t say yes, can’t say no.” He winks. “The idea of a little girl with green eyes and red hair who’s as sassy as her mom, well, that scares the shit out of me.”

  “And you think I’m not scared of a little boy with a hankering for odd hairstyles.”

  He full-on laughs now, rolling over on his back with his arm thrown up over his eyes. His body vibrates as he continues chuckling. “Guess we don’t have to get it all sorted now.”

  “When do you need to decide whether to go back to your MC?”

  His mirth disappears. “Babe. In their eyes I disrespected everything when I walked out. They think I ran, I didn’t. I knew I fucked up and knew I needed to make retribution. What I should have done was contacted them immediately when I found out you were nothing to worry about. That would have put me in better stead.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Another glance comes my way. “First, I wanted you to be stronger. If I’d called them, I don’t know that they trust me anymore. Preacher would have flown them out to talk to you themselves, and I wanted you able to deal with that.”

  “And they wouldn’t trust you because you fucked up.”

  He winces at my statement. “I did worse than that. I flat out told them I didn’t trust them. And that’s the problem with going back. They might let me back in, but is there really a way to move on from that?”

  “Why did you tell them that?”

  He sits up, pulling up his legs and putting his arms around his knees. It gives me a perfect view of that tat on his back, a reminder of what he is. Not an honourable SEAL, but a member of a biker club. Men for whom lives and women are cheap. I should be running a mile, not talking about ways of making a future with him.

  “I promised you steak. Let’s go get the food ready, and we’ll continue to talk.”

  “Am I asking too many questions?”

  He half turns his head so he can see me out of the corner of his eye. “Your questions are making me look at the situation. That’s not a bad thing if it focuses me on what I want. What you want too, Cat. Because one thing I’m becoming certain of, as long as I won’t be dragging you down with me, I want you by my side, whatever we decide.”

  He moves off the bed and starts pulling up his jeans. Commando, I note as he tucks his dick into his pants. He picks up his t-shirt, and gathers my own clothes, handing them to me, minus my underwear.

  “Er, I don’t mind going braless, but I need panties.”

  He rolls
his eyes, but bends, picks them up and passes them to me. Jeans without panties, ew.

  “So,” I start, putting my arms into my shirt, “you want a pros and cons discussion.”

  “Pros and cons?”

  “Yeah, sort of like triage. What treatment if any do we offer? Will the patient get better without intervention, or is medication or surgery required?”

  “Surgery in my case being going back to face the music.”

  I put my head through the neck of my shirt, then nod. “Sometimes doing nothing is the best route. Reassurance given that there’s nothing seriously amiss.”

  “While still charging an arm and a leg for that advice.” He chuckles, softening his words. He picks up the used condoms and takes them into the bathroom. Shortly after, I hear the toilet flushing and water running into the sink.

  By the time he returns, I’m fully dressed. “You protected me,” I observe, walking down the stairs. “Are your biker friends violent?”

  “No.” He sounds shocked. “But, babe. One of our members was the person kidnapped. She now has a finger missing. Weston chopped it off. She didn’t get away unscathed. They’d have wanted answers about your involvement.”

  “A female biker? You have women members?” I didn’t expect that. It makes me more sympathetic to them. Why, I’m not sure. Are females less likely to be criminals? Probably not.

  He snorts. “Just the one, and there’s no other like Swift, babe. She’s one in a million. Not that I’d ever tell her this, but I admire the fuck out of her.”

  20

  Stormy…

  Why did I never tell Swift I admired her? Why was I always such an ass? Another influence lingering on from my father—that women had a place in this world and being part of a man’s wasn’t it. Did I resent her?

  Would I have resented any of my brothers who’d got into Delta Force? Hell no. I’d be fucking impressed, and she’d done the British equivalent of that.

  Instead, I’d sniped at her. I don’t credit myself with making her life miserable, she’s far too strong. I’d been more like an annoying fly buzzing around her.