“No. Don’t you dare. You hold on. I’m not done here.” He accompanied the command with another nip of his teeth, and her entire body shuddered, trying to hold off the inevitable.
Steele lodged the head of his cock into her inferno, and his own breath hissed out. She was tight and like molten magma surrounding him, squeezing down, trying to pull him in deeper, trying to strangle him. It felt like heaven and hell combined. Perfection. “This what you want, baby?” She was pulsing around him. He could feel her wild heartbeat right through that broad, sensitive head. It was all he could do not to plunge deep.
“Yes. Steele.” Her voice was a wail. “Hurry, honey. I need you right now.”
That little wail was all he needed to hear. He gripped her hips hard, held her still and surged into her. Deep. So deep. She surrounded him with living, silken flames. Her soft cry added to the heat building in his body.
From his left, it registered that someone had come to investigate the noise, but he knew exactly where Keys and Maestro were. Maestro had already moved to casually intercept anyone from the other club who might be investigating the noise or looking for a place of privacy with their woman. Breezy was safe. He was safe. His brothers were watching his back.
Steele began to move in her, and each time he withdrew, he felt the little shudder that went through her body. That same tremor went down his spine. Shock waves walked up and down his thighs as he began to pound into her. He let himself go completely, forgetting control. Just taking her. His woman. He let himself just feel that perfect sensation. The way every cell in his body came alive. The way the flames burned over and in him. The way her pussy was so tight, clamping down on him, squeezing and massaging, the friction unbelievable.
He didn’t want it to ever end. He rode her hard, twice snapping out the word no. How she held on, he didn’t know. Only that if she didn’t, she would take him with her and it would be over. He needed this monstrous release. When he was inside her, surrounded by those fiery muscles, everything else dropped away. His entire focus was right there. His cock disappearing into her, withdrawing, moist and hot. He half expected smoke to pour out with it.
A few more minutes and he knew it was going to be over. That place she took him with her body, where he left his past and every fucking mess he’d ever dealt with, was going to be gone. He renewed his efforts, determined to take every moment that he could. Then he was erupting before he’d had much warning, his seed jetting out of him, a wild, savage eruption, his cock jerking hard in her, giving her everything.
She cried out, that soft little mewl he loved, as her body clamped down hard on his. The ripples turned to quakes and then ferocious jolts until she’d milked every drop from him. He pressed kisses down her spine and waited until they both caught their breath before he straightened, helping her to stand.
“You all right, baby?” He used his T-shirt to clean between her legs.
“Better than all right.” She leaned into him to run her tongue over one of his scars. She traced the tattoo Ink had put there to cover where the blade had bit deep.
He didn’t pull away. She made him better. She managed to distance him from the loss of Demyan. When he was in her, Demyan and everything that had been done to both of them faded so far away, he was able to forget for a few precious moments. No one else was ever allowed to put their mouth on those tattoos. The scars were for his fallen brother. Breezy was the exception.
He pulled her tank over her head and settled it over her breasts. “Hate like hell covering these up, Bree. You’re a work of art.”
“Glad you think so.”
“We’re not finished. Before the night is through I’m going to give you at least five orgasms. Maybe more. And I’m taking you every way I want you. Everything that belongs to me.” He kissed her again, because he had to. He lost himself in the fire of her mouth for some time. When he pulled back, her eyes were shining.
“Good thing I was prepared for that,” Breezy said.
His woman. Of course she wouldn’t say no. She stepped into her jeans and pulled them up and then slipped into her shoes while he zipped up his jeans and buckled his belt.
“I’ll get you a shirt, Steele. I know you’ve got a few in the drawers in your room. I know you want to keep talking with the other club’s members before everyone’s gotten too drunk. I’ll catch up with you.”
He pulled on his cut. “You sure? I could go with you.” He wasn’t about to let her go without him watching over her. He knew her fears of clubs, and a party brought all of that out in her no matter how much she tried to overcome it.
“That’s silly. I’m the VP’s old lady. I know how to handle myself at a party.”
She did. She always had. She was an asset to him. He had no doubt she’d circulate among the women and bring back all sorts of information to him. Still, he glanced at Keys, who nodded. He wouldn’t take his eyes off the VP’s old lady. She’d be safe because his brothers were there, watching, keeping their eyes on her. He’d trail after her but let his brothers keep their eyes wide open. His phone was already out, and he was sending a mass text: Eyes on my woman.
She leaned into him again, this time giving him her mouth. Steele took it. Sank into the kiss. Let himself revel in the fact that she was his. They had a son together. She loved him, and she was staying because she wanted to be with him. Right at that moment, he knew he had it all and if he was careful, he would always have it.
“I got this,” Breezy lied, when Steele lifted his head, his eyes searching hers for reassurance.
Her stomach was churning, but she didn’t dare press her hand there. He would notice. Steele noticed everything. She had to do this on her own. She had to know one way or the other. Pretending confidence was easy enough, she’d been doing that her entire life. Walking back into the clubhouse, head high, through a group of men she didn’t know was terrifying. These were men invited to party, men Torpedo Ink were contemplating bringing into their club.
She forced herself to walk away from Steele without looking back. Her hands were shaking as she entered the common room. Sounds hit her first. Laughter. Men’s voices. Women’s. The smells. There was something about a party just getting started, but still, the anticipation of sex and alcohol mixed together. The music pounding out a beat adding to the eagerness in the room.
Breezy felt eyes on her. She knew the men were looking. Deliberately, she let her gaze move around the room. She was Steele’s woman, responsible for making certain everything ran smoothly. One of the patch chasers, Betina, came right over.
“I’m Betina. That’s Heidi.” Her arm swept toward the other woman. “Is there something you want us to do?”
Breezy knew that was code for Is there a particular man you want us to get close to? She smiled at the woman and shook her head. “Unless Steele or Czar says differently, you have a good time.” Happy hunting, she added silently. She hoped both women found what they were looking for. She’d been in a similar position.
Betina grinned at her and hurried back to the man she’d chosen for the night. Breezy took a deep breath and stepped farther into the room, her gaze once again sweeping around, taking in everything. She went straight to the bar to refill the wooden bowls set around the room with nuts and chips. Already beer bottles were everywhere. She started to gather them up, but Heidi was there first, taking them from her.
“I’ll do this,” the woman said, deference in her voice.
“Thanks,” Breezy said, working at keeping the shock from her voice.
“Hey, babe.” Gavriil Prakenskii greeted her, circling her shoulders with one strong arm. He’d never done more than nod to her before. He had a woman with him, and by the way he was holding her hand, she clearly meant something to him. “Breezy, this is my wife, Lexi. It’s her first time here. I was hoping you’d take her under your wing and look out for her when I’m mixing. We’re just here for the barbecue.”
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br /> “Hi, Lexi.” The woman looked much more nervous than she was, and Breezy’s heart went out to her. “The food looks great. Blythe is around here somewhere.”
“I brought a variety of salads, and extra produce. Where should I put them?” Lexi asked.
“Produce in the kitchen and the salads outside on the long table,” she answered immediately.
“I’ll show you,” Gavriil assured, his voice softening. He bent to brush a kiss on his wife’s head. “Thanks, Breezy. Baby, you need anything, or you get overwhelmed, Breezy’s the go-to girl. She’s got this.”
Lexi nodded her head, smiling, but Breezy could see she was already overwhelmed and made a mental note to keep a close watch over her. She’d taken two steps toward the hall when Casimir, another one of Czar’s brothers, stopped her.
“Breezy, I want you to meet Lissa, my wife. We’ve brought a ton of food with us and need to know where you want it. Lissa, baby, I want you to meet Breezy. You need anything, and you can’t find Blythe or me, hit Breezy up.”
Breezy found herself liking Lissa, with her bright red hair and watchful gaze. She laughed, but her eyes were moving around the room, reminding Breezy of Lana and Alena. That gave her more confidence, that there was another woman watching out for all of them. She liked that. Lissa displayed an ease, being in the same room with all the men, as if she knew they didn’t dare touch her if she didn’t want to be touched. They chatted for a few more minutes and then headed for the kitchen.
Breezy had taken several more steps, and one of the newcomers, a tall man with a serious face and wildly long hair, intercepted her. She was forced to stop when he stepped directly in front of her. He wore his colors and his patch declared him sergeant at arms. Her heart beat wildly, and for a moment the edges of her vision went dark. She forced air through her lungs and plastered a smile on her face. As she did so, her gaze swept around the room.
Keys was there, not six feet from them and edging closer. Transporter had swiveled around on the barstool and was watching through narrowed eyes. One of the prospects, Fatei, the acting bartender, had paused in making a drink, his gaze on them. Absinthe, walking through the clubhouse, stopped dead in his tracks and turned toward them, changing directions.
Everywhere Breezy looked, there was a member of Torpedo Ink. Watching. They suddenly didn’t appear as if they had no cares and were out for fun. Just the opposite. They looked every bit as lethal as she knew them to be.
She glanced toward the entrance, and it didn’t surprise her to see Steele’s tall frame filling the doorway. She shook her head slightly as her heart began to settle. She had to handle anything that came up on her own. She was the vice president’s woman, and she’d been in the life forever. This was her domain, and she had to rule it.
“I’m Mavra. I was watching and realized you’re clearly the one everyone relies on. I’ve brought my woman with me. Our VP and two others have women. They’re new to the life and very nervous. We’re going to be talking to your men and we won’t be able to keep an eye on them every minute. We were hoping you’d take the time to get to know them and help them get acquainted with the other women.”
Her heart lifted. Air rushed into her lungs. Another man looking out for his woman. He was from a different club. They might want to patch over to Torpedo Ink, but they still were in a club. She didn’t have experience with men looking out for their women, but Gavriil and Casimir clearly were doing just that. Torpedo Ink was looking out for her. Her man was right there, waiting for a signal from her. This man and several of his brothers were looking out for their women.
“I’d be happy to. Let me get Steele a shirt and I’ll be right back to meet them.” She gave him a reassuring smile and glanced back at her man as Mavra moved out of her way.
Steele smiled at her, and her heart felt like it melted in her chest. She might have some anxiety when it came to the clubs and club life, especially over the parties, but it was disappearing fast.
She clearly was going to be the woman the others relied on, and that was all right with her. She had always taken the role, and it fit her. Steele was Torpedo Ink, and he was hers. He would always be her choice. Every time. She knew she was an asset to him, and it gave her every confidence. More, she was an asset to the club. Not in a demeaning way but in a way she could be proud of.
Breezy hurried down the hall to the room Steele used there in the clubhouse. She wasn’t at all surprised when the door closed behind her and she turned to find him leaning against it. There was pride in his eyes. Adoration in his expression. Love. Stark. Raw. She could see it in him so easily. Her heart beat faster, the way it did whenever she looked at him.
“Want you again, woman.”
“Got things to do, Steele.”
His hands dropped to his belt buckle. “More important than me?”
She laughed softly, shaking her head, her eyes on his, happier than she ever thought possible. “There’s nothing more important than you right now, Steele. Not one single thing.”
TERMS ASSOCIATED WITH BIKER CLUBS
1%ers: This is a term often used in association with outlaw bikers, as in “99% of clubs are law abiding, but the other 1% are not.” Sometimes the symbol is worn inside a diamond-shaped patch.
3-piece patch or 3-piece: This term is used for the configuration of a club’s patch: the top piece, or rocker, with club name; a center patch that is the club’s logo; and a bottom patch, or rocker, with the club’s location, such as Sea Haven.
Biker: someone who rides a motorcycle
Biker friendly: a business that welcomes bikers
Boneyard: refers to a salvage yard
Cage: often refers to a car, van or truck (basically any vehicle that’s not a motorcycle)
Chapter: the local unit of a larger club
Chase vehicle: a vehicle following riders on a run just in case of a breakdown
Chopper: customized bike
Church: club meeting
Citizen: someone who’s not a biker
Club: could be any group of riders banding together (most friendly)
Colors: patches, logo, something worth fighting for because it represents who you are
Cut: vest or denim jacket with sleeves cut off and club colors on it; almost always worn, even over leather jackets
Dome: helmet
Getting patched: Moving up from prospect to full club member (you would receive the logo patch to wear with rockers). This must be earned, and is the only way to get respect from brothers.
Hang-around: anyone hanging around the club who might want to join
Hog: nickname for motorcycle, mostly associated with Harley-Davidson
Independent: a biker with no club affiliation
Ink: tattoo
Ink slinger: a tattoo artist
Nomad: club member who travels between chapters; goes where he’s needed in his club
Old lady: Wife or woman who has been with a man for a long time. It is not considered disrespectful nor does it have anything to do with how old one is.
Patch holder: member of a motorcycle club
Patches: Sewn on vests or jackets, these can be many things with meanings or just for fun, even gotten from runs made.
Poser: pretend biker
Property of: a patch displayed on a jacket, vest or sometimes a tattoo, meaning the woman (usually old lady or longtime girlfriend) is with the man and his club
Prospect: someone working toward becoming a fully patched club member
KEEP READING FOR AN EXCERPT FROM THE NEXT GHOSTWALKER NOVEL BY CHRISTINE FEEHAN
TOXIC GAME
AVAILABLE MARCH 2019 FROM BERKLEY
“Hot as hell!” Barry Font yelled, wiping the sweat from his face. He looked around at the crew he was transporting straight into the hot zone. He hadn’t meant the strip of land they were setting the helicopters dow
n on. They all knew it was bad. The last rescue attempt had been ambushed. Three dead, two wounded and the helicopter had barely made it out.
The temperature was at least ninety degrees with 99 percent humidity and gusting winds that took that heat and shoved it right down your throat—and this was at night. Barry’s skin felt wet and sticky all the time. He wanted to strip himself bare and lie under the helicopter’s rotor blades just to get some relief.
They dropped down out of the mountains, the helicopters running low enough to make his gut tighten as they skimmed along the lowlands heading toward the forest. They were sitting ducks making that run and the area was infamous for frequent ground-to-air fire. With the Milisi Separatis Sumatra terrorist cell active and firing at anything, every man in the choppers was at risk. Gunners watched grimly out the doors on either side, but that didn’t make him feel any less like he had a target painted on his back. Strangely, it wasn’t the run that was scaring the crap out of him. He felt like he was trapped in a cage surrounded by predators.
The Air Force pararescue team didn’t seem affected by anything as mundane as the heat or terrorists. The crazy thing was, they were mostly officers. Doctors. What the hell? As a rule, Barry thought most officers were a joke. These men had seen combat and looked as tough as nails. He’d never flown them anywhere before and hadn’t known what to expect.
His crew had taken men into all sorts of combat situations, but he’d never seen a team like the one he was bringing in. He didn’t even know how to explain the difference. It wasn’t like he could name one single thing about them that made them stand out in his mind. They just gave off a dangerous vibe. Being with them really did make him feel as if he were inside a tiger’s cage, surrounded by big cats. They were that still, that menacing, and yet they hadn’t said or done anything to warrant his nerves or the shiver of dread creeping down his spine at the sight of them.
They sat stoically while the helicopter swayed and jerked, bumping like it was in the rockiest terrain. They moved with the craft as if seasoned veterans of helicopter travel. Sweat trickled down their faces—well, all but one. He looked at the man sitting at the very end of the jump seat. Dr. Draden Freeman, a gifted surgeon, looked like a fucking model, not a tough-as-nails soldier about to be dropped into the hottest zone in Indonesia.
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