by Freya Barker
It was Autumn who made a comment last night, when the conversation drifted into the bedroom, that really struck home. She said, “Sex is merely a physical expression of a state of mind. It’s not the sex itself that’s the goal, but the wish to feel connected—both in body and mind.”
That’s why I’m sitting on the back of Ouray’s bike, my arms tight around his middle, driving to his place. He insisted, both that I get on his bike—which I finally conceded to—and getting away from the clubhouse. We weren’t able to leave without letting Momma feed us first, although I wasn’t able to eat much—my stomach already a little queasy.
“Relax,” Ouray rumbles, reaching for my hand which is fisted around his belly, catching me as I glance over at his tense reflection in his rearview mirror for the third time in the short trip.
Easier said than done, as doubts about how the night would play out start creeping in. I’d been ready when I got to the clubhouse earlier. Feeling good about the information Jasper was able to dig up, and high on the pep talk I received from the girls last night, I thought I was ready for this. For sex. My body sure seems to be on board.
The heat in Ouray’s eyes, knowing that’s for me, is cranking up the anticipation. But it’s also making me afraid I may not live up to expectations. What if I freak out and can’t go through with it? I like Ouray. Okay, I really like him—he makes me feel worthwhile—but what if this is a disaster? I not only risk derailing the investigation, but losing him as well.
“You need to get out of your head,” he says over his shoulder, as we pull up to his house. Shutting down the engine, he turns in his seat. “You’re thinking too much. We’re on a bike, I’m gonna be in control, but in bed? Sprite, you’re in the driver’s seat until you get comfortable there.”
Straightening my shoulders and taking off my helmet, I give him a little nod. “All right.”
“Want something to drink?” he asks when we walk in. “I think I need some coffee.”
“Just water is fine.”
I follow him into the kitchen, where he fills me a glass of water, and I gulp half of it down. Then he turns away to make himself a coffee, giving me a moment to steel myself and come to a decision.
It’s the rustle of my shirt, as I pull it over my head, that has him turn around. His eyes narrow and lips press together when I reach behind my back to unclasp my bra, dropping it to the floor as well. I notice his hands, grabbing onto the counter behind him, knuckles white, but he doesn’t move. I kick off my Keds, undo my pants, and push them down my hips, taking my underwear along with them.
Panic hits me when he closes his eyes, but then he takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring, before opening them back up, his eyelids heavy. I can feel it on my skin as he takes in every inch of my body, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.
“Killing me, Luna,” he grunts. “Make the call.”
“Bedroom,” I whisper, my voice all but gone.
“Go on, upstairs, second on the right. I need a minute.”
I start walking slowly, aware of his intense gaze following my every move, until I hit the first step, bolting upstairs and out of sight. My heart pounding almost painfully in my chest.
It’s a big room with an equally big bed, unmade, and a shiver runs down my spine when I imagine Ouray tangled in the covers. There’s a single dresser with a large flatscreen TV hanging on the wall above and two sturdy looking nightstands beside the bed, but little else in terms of furniture. Just the straight-back chair in the corner, a plastic laundry basket with haphazardly folded clothing on top.
I freeze when I hear his heavy footsteps come up the stairs, but instead of entering the bedroom, I hear them walk in what I assume is the bathroom next door. The sound of a shower confirms it. I’m not clear on why he’s taking a shower now, but I’m pretty sure it’s not because he didn’t like what he saw. It was all in his eyes: even I recognize that kind of hunger.
The window overlooks the lake below and I take a step closer to take in the view. Not that I actually see anything, all my senses are focused on the man taking a shower in the next room.
It’s probably just a minute or two—although it feels like a lot longer—until I hear the water turn off. I have my back to the room when moments later I hear the connecting door open.
“Beautiful,” he mumbles, as I hear the rustling of sheets on the bed.
He’s the one who’s beautiful, lying back on his bed, one arm folded behind his head, his body unapologetically naked. I know my eyes are greedy, taking in my fill of him, until they focus on the heavily veined cock, resting hard and unyielding against his stomach.
“Ain’t gonna bite you,” he says when he notices me staring, his voice hoarse. “Doin’ my best to keep my hands to myself until you tell me different, but fuck, baby...I might blow even with nothing but your eyes on me.”
The idea I might hold that kind of power is what emboldens me, as I step closer to the bed—to him.
I climb on the mattress and touch my fingers to his skin, surprised to find it almost hot to the touch. His muscles ripple with every stroke of my hand.
“Luna...”
His voice is like a plea when I trail my fingers through his chest hair. Tracing his happy trail down, I lightly brush the tip of his angry-looking cock before sliding my palm down his length. Hot silk over hard steel.
The last dick I remember touching barely filled my palm. The Nebraska boy it belonged to looked promising enough with his wide shoulders and large hands, but it wasn’t much.
My hand wraps around Ouray’s girth—much more in measure with the man—and squeeze lightly, sliding it down to the root. He hisses sharply and my eyes shoot up to his face, immediately letting go.
“Did I hurt you?”
He barks out a strangled laugh. “Fuck no, but that doesn’t mean I ain’t in pain, darlin’. I need to touch you so bad.” I scrutinize his face and see nothing that makes me anxious. “You want me to stop, I stop, I swear.”
I feel surprisingly unselfconscious as I lay down beside him, my arms straight along my body. He rolls on his side, propping his head with his hand. With the other he brushes the hair from my face, before running an index finger along my nose, tracing my lips and down my neck.
“You good?”
“Mmm.”
OURAY
The moment my mouth closes over her nipple, her back arcs off the mattress.
Jesus, she’s responsive.
I got a taste of the real Luna, uninhibited, when I made her come sitting on my face, but I didn’t fully appreciate the gift then. I fucking do now. She moans low in her throat when I suck her deep. She’s primed, I can smell her arousal as her limbs move restlessly over the sheets.
“Touch yourself, honey,” I mumble around her pert little tit. She doesn’t hesitate, opening her legs and letting her knees fall open as she slips a hand between.
I lift my head and find the heat of her mouth with mine, while I run gentle fingers down her arm. I trace it down to where her hand is working between her legs. Instead of freezing, she moans down my throat as I entwine my fingers with hers, sliding into her silky heat. This time she lifts her hips when I find her opening and slip a digit inside. It doesn’t take long for her to raise her butt off the mattress, chasing my touch.
“So close...” she moans when I lift my mouth, so I can see her when I add a second finger. Almost instantly her mouth falls open, her head tilts back, neck stretched, and I feel her muscles tighten around me as she comes on a deep guttural groan.
Rolling on my back, I pull her still shaking body on top of mine, stroking a firm hand over her back while she recovers. It doesn’t take long before she lifts her head, looks at me with a smile on her face, and pushes up into a sitting position, a leg on each side of my hips.
“I want to feel you inside me.”
Her words undo whatever little gain I’ve made getting both my heart rate and my cock back under control. “Maybe we should—” I barely get a wo
rd out before she presses her fingers to my mouth, leaning forward a little so her curls brush my face.
“Please.”
“You take the lead—it’s all yours—but Sprite, I can’t guarantee I’ll last without taking the reins.” I reach over and grab the condom I tossed there, covering myself quickly.
“Help me.”
She lifts her hips slightly so I can fist my dick and brush the tip along her flushed folds until I’m braced at her entrance. Raising my eyes to hers, I hang on to that connection as she slowly lowers herself. The moment her ass hits my thighs, I blow out the breath I’ve been holding. “You okay?”
“Mmm, full.”
“I fucking hope so,” I mumble, and I can feel her resulting laugh ripple over every inch of my body. Grabbing her hips, I still her movement. “Baby, I’m barely hanging on here.”
Clearly enjoying her power, but still with a hint of wonder in her eyes, she starts riding me. I swear I’m breaking a few molars grinding my teeth, but when she throws her head back, her hand reaching down to feel our connection, I’m done.
Planting a foot in the mattress, I flip us, brace myself on both arms so I don’t crush her, and take over.
Blood is roaring in my ears as I drive inside her, never removing my eyes from her face as she digs her nails into my ass. Not even when she uses her other hand to rub at her clit and comes loudly, her muscles milking my cock. Or too short a time later when I can’t hold back, and clench my ass as I power balls deep and see stars with the force of my release.
“I can’t breathe.”
Her voice is mumbled underneath me when my arms finally give out and I collapse on top, trying to catch my breath. I’m getting to be an old guy, my heart is hammering so hard in my chest, I wonder if I should be worried this woman is gonna give me a coronary.
She sure as fuck is doing something to my heart.
“STAY.”
She looks over her shoulder at me and smiles.
Never one to linger for the night after getting my rocks off, I’m starting to see the benefits. It felt great to wake up with Luna wrapped around me and—in the soft, early-morning light—picking up right where we left off the night before.
“I need to get ready, check in at the office, see if there’s anything more that’s come to light so I’m up-to-date when we ride out on Monday.”
“A few of the Mesa Riders are coming in this afternoon. Their pres is a good friend of Yuma’s. Momma’s got a couple’a rooms done up so they can stay at the compound. I’d like you there.”
“I can be there after work, but I was gonna ask Bella to take me shopping on the weekend. I’m going to need some more appropriate clothes, I can hardly wear the same two outfits the entire week.”
“Here’s a suggestion: check in at work, grab your shit together, and come back here, and I’ll take you to get whatever you need this weekend.” Because I’m not above a little extortion to get my way, I add, “Be a good opportunity for you to check out the Mesa boys up close.”
She’s not stupid, she knows exactly what I’m doing, but that doesn’t mean I don’t make a valid point. “Fine,” she snaps, squinting her eyes at me when I grin.
I don’t mind she’s pissed at me—she’s cute when she gets mad—all I care about is more nights like last night and mornings like this one.
“Fine,” I echo as I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “Then I’ll get dressed and drive you over to get your car.”
Twenty minutes later, we stand beside her Jeep and I take her in my arms, kissing her hungrily.
“You’re pissing Momma off, leaving without eating her breakfast.”
“I know. I’ll make it up to her.” Luna grins up at me. “But I really want to get going, it’s already nine.” She untangles herself from my arms and climbs behind the wheel. “I should be back, five at the latest.”
“Shoot me a text before you leave, so I can make sure those guys have left room for you to park.”
“Will do.”
I open the gate myself and watch her disappear down the drive, before I walk back up to the clubhouse.
“Fuck, he’s a goner.”
I look over at Kaga’s voice to find him and Yuma—their asses leaning against their bikes, smoking a cigarette—grinning as they watch me approach.
“Fuck off. That ain’t gonna happen.” The guys immediately bust out laughing.
“Cuz it’s already done, Chief,” Yuma heckles.
The satisfied grin I wear walking into the clubhouse proves them right.
LUNA
“Careful out there,” Damian calls after me when I walk out of the office and I show him a thumbs-up.
I should be fine, especially with the backup of the local FBI agents in my contacts list. They’ll be working undercover, as apparently they often do at random rallies, and I probably wouldn’t recognize them to see them. The burner phone numbers they provided me will at least allow me to get in touch when I need to.
Rain is coming down in buckets when I get outside. I run to my Jeep, soaked by the time I get behind the wheel. Water’s already sluicing down the steep road heading up to our office building, and visibility is shit. With my wipers doing double time, I cautiously drive down the mountain, hitting my brakes when I see the traffic light red at the bottom. For a moment I think the car is hydroplaning. I lift my foot from the pedal and reapply, but there’s nothing at all, my foot goes right down to the floorboards without resistance.
Fuck.
I try steering into the curb as I shift down, but I have too much speed. My wheels easily hop the sidewalk, and with my engine loudly protesting the high RPMs, I burst into the middle of the intersection, watching the large grill of a Mack truck rushing toward me.
CHAPTER 15
OURAY
Fucking Luna.
She was supposed to let me know when she left the office. It’s five thirty, I haven’t heard a peep, and she’s not answering her goddamn phone.
The three Mesa Riders guys rolled in about an hour ago and are already half in the bag at the bar. They were already loud when I was having dinner with Ahiga and Nosh in Momma’s kitchen. I foresee a rowdy night ahead and am glad when Momma suggests they take the boy over to their cabin to watch a movie. He may not be able to hear, but I don’t want him walking in on some of the shit that can go on when these guys get together.
I follow them outside and smoke a cigarette, my eyes on the gate, waiting for Luna’s Jeep to appear.
I spent most of the day in my office, catching up on some paperwork and making a few calls. I managed to get a hold of Lawrence Brimley, our lawyer, and gave him the information Luna dug up about the boy. He’s going to use that to do a bit of digging of his own, or at least his investigators will. Two things I hope to get out of this: the cooperation of whoever the hell the kid’s placement worker is supposed to be, and the name of the motherfucker who put his hands on the boy. The reason I have Brimley take care of that, instead of doing it myself, is simple: he’s as slick and refined as his name implies, and I’m a rough-looking, no-bullshit biker. I don’t particularly get along with public servants of any kind.
Luna apparently being the exception to that rule.
Five forty-five, and still no sign of her, dammit. I try her cell again.
“Hello?” a man’s voice answers, and immediately the hair on my neck stands up.
“Who the fuck is this, and what are you doing with my woman’s phone!”
“It’s Damian. She’s getting checked out by EMTs right now.”
“The fuck, Gomez. What happened?” I’m already fishing my keys from my pocket and jog to the truck. Don’t want to risk taking my bike on the wet roads.
“Got into a crash just at the bottom of Rock Point drive. She just left the office and got broadsided by a tractor trailer—”
I don’t even let him finish, end the call, and shove the phone in my pocket as I yank the door of the truck open.
“Rowtag!” I holler at
the little asswipe. “Open the goddamn gate, right the fuck now!”
I think I broke every traffic law ever written getting there. My heart, beating like a fucking piston the whole way here, suddenly skips a few when I drive up to the scene. The first thing I see are the mangled remains of her Jeep getting pulled off the grill of a big-ass Mack truck.
I manage to circumvent the State Patrol unit blocking the road by pulling into the small strip mall. Slamming my truck in park, I hop out, my eyes focused on the ambulance parked on the side of the road, and find myself suddenly blocked by a large state trooper.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I ignore him and try to step around him, but he pushes in my chest with his extended fingers. Only then do I turn my eyes on him.
“If you’re partial to those fingers, I’d remove them right the fuck now.”
The trooper takes a step closer, and I just fucking know he’s gonna feel the need to throw his goddamn weight around.
“He’s good! Let him through.” I look over the officer’s shoulder to see Damian jogging our way, already holding out his badge. “He’s one of us.”
The trooper gives me a long stare before finally removing his hand. Good thing too because I’m this close to snapping them like twigs.
“Where is she? And why is that fucking ambulance still here?” I stalk over in that direction, Damian keeping up beside me.
“Because the woman is a giant pain in the ass. She won’t go to the hospital.” He sounds exasperated. “She’s in the ambulance. They’re patching her up. Maybe you can talk some sense into her.”
The doors on the back of the rig are open, and I can see her sitting on the stretcher inside.
“Ahh fuck,” is the first thing from her mouth as I climb into the rig. She holds up a defensive hand. “Don’t you start with me, Ouray. Every goddamn man you see here has already felt the need to flex their testosterone-filled muscles in an attempt to save me from myself. If I had a dick, no one would question my judgement, but apparently when a woman says she’s fine—agent or not—you guys just can’t take her word for it.”
