She should protest. She should knee him in the balls. She should wipe that grin off his face . . . but she wanted to kiss him. Suddenly. Those sensuous lips, that look in his eyes . . . She tried to mentally shake the scandalous thoughts from her head but she stood, her body pressed against his, relishing the strength of every ripple of muscle. Her hips betrayed her and pressed harder against the growing bulge in his pants. She felt the hard length of his cock against her hip and upper thigh. She should be ashamed of herself. She should be shocked and appalled, but instead her hands reached for his shoulders. Strong shoulders. Hot . . . her hand jerked away as if she’d been scalded on a stove, but his hand reached up and grabbed it, lifted it to his lips and kissed it. Liquid heat formed deep in her belly, desire getting the best of her, the physical need overcoming the mental protest.
The next second, he lifted her into his arms and carried her into his bedroom. She should stop this. Now. He lowered her to the bed and hovered over her, straddling her as he lowered his face to hers and gently brushed his lips against hers. Several seconds later, his tongue tracing around the outline of her lips, he prodded her to open her mouth. She acquiesced, allowing his warm tongue to invade her mouth. Her breasts pressed against his chest as his tongue teased hers, circling, suckling, dipping deep and then out, nibbling at her lower lip. As if they belonged to someone else, she watched as her own hands lifted and pulled at the bottom edge of his T-shirt, guiding it upward, pulling it over his head. She stared at his naked, broad chest, her breath coming in sharp gasps now. She pulled him closer, wanting to feel his hot flesh against hers, her hard nipples pressing into that firm chest of his.
Shameless, she let herself go. Surrendered to the sensations rushing through her. For the moment, no fear, no worries. Just sensation. Purely physical. God, she needed a release. His mouth found her nipples through her T-shirt, and she moaned. His hands shoved the T-shirt up around the base of her neck, then followed suit with her bra. She hissed as his lips found her nipple and sucked. He made a low, throaty sound, and she couldn’t prevent the moan that escaped from her own throat. Her hands were everywhere, stroking his back, sliding down along his narrow hips, stroking the long, hard length of his erection through his jeans.
“Touch me,” she murmured. He did, but not before he unzipped his pants and freed his dick, long and hard and throbbing and engorged, reddish-purple with desire. She reached for the waistband of the sweatpants and easily slid them down. They lay belly to belly, their hands exploring, his leaving a trail of heat behind. His thumb stroked a nipple. Her hand cupped his hard balls. His fingers squeezed and twirled her nipples, and she grabbed the silky length of his cock and stroked, faster and harder. She lifted her chest, inviting him to suckle her nipples, and he obliged. Her hips ground against his, her hand trapped between them as she gently yet firmly stroked his shaft.
His hands strayed to her pussy, stroking, his fingers spreading her lips and dipping inside, soon slick with her moisture. Hot liquid oozed from the tip of his cock, and he gasped and threw his head back. Together, they used their hands and fingers and lips to propel them both onward, no hesitance, nothing but feeling and sensations. She felt his abdominal muscles clench and marveled that his cock could grow even harder. She stroked. He thrust his fingers deep inside her while his thumb massaged, twirling over her clit, making her hips rock upward, harder and faster.
“Nikki . . .”
The only sound in the room now was their harsh breathing. Their skin slick with sweat and her heart pounding with desire. She felt herself losing control, something that had never happened to her before. She was always in control, even during sex. But not now, not when she felt her internal muscles throbbing in a unique rhythm, pulsing, begging for release. She tipped over the edge, the contractions filling her with white-hot pleasure, her mouth open, crying out in ecstasy as she continued to pump his dick. Moments later, he allowed himself relief and he came, his seed spurting hot and sticky onto her belly and slowly dripping sideways along her waist. She disappeared into the sensations of the moment, her heart pounding, her pulse racing, her body thrumming with her climax.
By the time the waves of her orgasm ended, both of them covered in sweat, he collapsed onto the bed beside her, his chest heaving in time with hers. They both lay that way for several moments, her ears buzzing, her body alive and sensitive to the feel of his arm pressed against her side. Then she opened her eyes and found herself staring up at the ceiling. She remembered where she was. She remembered why she was here. She wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. She had never experienced anything like it. He’d taken her on a journey that left her speechless, and he hadn’t even been inside her. What would that feel like? How much greater pleasure would she feel when—
No. She froze, her body heat ebbing as a cold sensation replaced it. She turned toward him, saw him staring up at the ceiling as well, refusing to look at her. What was he thinking? The same thoughts as she? That this had been a huge mistake, the result of . . . of what? Shame flooded through her even as she told herself she was human. That Seth had showed her kindness, and compassion . . . but how could she? How could she have allowed her captor her body like this? If he’d wanted to truly fuck her, she would have let him. What the hell was the matter with her? Why—
He shifted on the bed, turning sideways, head resting against his hand, elbow crooked against the bed. He watched her for several moments, a slight frown marring his brow. “You okay?” he asked softly.
She turned to him and met his gaze. What did she see there? Tenderness or regret? Was she okay? She didn’t know. How to respond to that question? She looked at the ceiling and felt a myriad of emotions. Regret coupled with . . . with what? Appreciation? Was what they had done normal? Or was she just a shameless slut—
“I took advantage—”
“No,” she said. “I allowed it.” She turned to look at him again. “Believe me when I say that if I . . . if I had truly objected, your dick would have been ripped off and tossed into the corner of the room.”
For some reason, her words provoked a chuckle. He was even more handsome when he smiled. That simple smile, that flash of teeth . . . it changed him. Her heart skipped a beat. No, this couldn’t happen. She couldn’t grow fond of her captor. She was no Stockholm victim. She was Nikki . . . she needed to focus. To find her sister.
“This won’t happen again,” she said, her voice soft and firm.
He sighed as he sat up and turned to look down at her over his shoulder. “Don’t count on it.”
10
Seth
Seth walked away from the cabin, long steps carrying him toward his bike. What the hell had gotten into him? What was so damned attractive about Nikki? He couldn’t put his finger on it. Pity? The last thing Nikki would want was for someone to pity her. She’d probably throat punch them even for the thought. No, the attraction stemmed from more than that. She was going through a tough time, but there was fire inside her, heat that drew Seth to her like a moth to the flame. There was something else between them, too. An underlying tension that he’d felt since that moment she’d kicked him in the balls back at the warehouse. Did she feel it, too? Damn it. He kicked the dust with his boot. He couldn’t waste time worrying about regrets. It happened, he couldn’t undo it—not that he wanted to—but he had a job to do. He straddled his bike and shoved the key into the ignition, his thoughts focused—
“Hold up, Sticks.”
He glanced up as Doc quickly approached. “What?”
“I’m going with you.”
“The hell you are,” he muttered. He had no issues with Doc, but this was personal business, and he didn’t need any company.
Doc gestured over his shoulder. “Levi gave the order.”
“Why?” Seth frowned. Levi had ordered Doc to accompany him? He shook his head, scowling at the younger man. “What’s going on?”
Doc offered a grin and a shrug. “The boss man tells me to go, I go. If you’ve got a problem with
it, take it up with him.”
Seth sighed as Doc strode toward his Harley, an older version, nothing fancy, pretty much off the floor with standard seat, handlebars, and mufflers. Doc was a good kid, maybe five years younger than Seth. No one ever called him by his real name here. Not many even knew it. Hunter Cohen was one of the newer members of the motorcycle club, having arrived about a year ago, not long after Grady joined the club. Another misfit. The only thing in his past that Seth knew about—and he wasn’t sure if anyone else other than Levi did—was that Doc had left his medical training during his first-year residency, after he’d graduated from medical school “with distinction,” whatever that meant. Seth wasn’t sure what had happened to make Doc run. He did know that medical school cost a lot of money, and it was a shame that all of that had gone to waste.
Of course, Doc’s skills came in handy, and except for the most serious injuries, he took care of things here at the compound. Seth had even given him a small office space downstairs in the main saloon, where barrels and bottles of liquor used to be stored. Seth had looked in at it from the doorway once or twice. The kid had found an old roll-top desk that he’d shoved into the corner, right out of the Old West. Inside the cramped space stood an exam table—where the hell Doc had gotten that he didn’t know and didn’t care—and enough supplies and medical instruments to lift his eyebrows. He’d shaken his head. They all had secrets. Secrets that they held on tight to. Secrets that—
“Where we going?”
Seth scowled. He didn’t want company. He wanted to go back to the warehouse where the Jokers had taken Nikki, and he wanted to do it alone. As vice president, he knew better, but fuck the rules. Once in a while, you had to break them. Or die trying. He needed to figure out why they had taken her. Why that was so important to him, he didn’t know. Why he didn’t want to let her go? He didn’t know that, either. Even so, she couldn’t have been kidnapped over a chop shop, could she? Obviously, the guy who ran the shop believed that she’d seen something she wasn’t supposed to, and it was just as obvious that he had connections to the Jokers or they wouldn’t have kidnapped her in the first place.
He needed to think. He’d been distracted by the sight of her body wrapped around his, the sounds she made as she got off on his fingers, but now he’d managed to tear himself away from her luscious bare skin, the whole thing had only heightened his need to know what the hell was going on. Who was she? What did she have to do with the Jokers? What was she hiding from him? And she was hiding something. Of that he had no doubt. None whatsoever.
Fuck it. Doc was still standing there. Looked like there was no way of getting out of this one. He straddled his bike. “Back to the warehouse,” he said, leaning forward over his tank to turn the key.
Doc frowned. “The warehouse? You mean where you guys ambushed the Jokers and found her?” He gazed pointedly at the cinderblock cabin. “And what are you going to do about her anyway?”
Seth gave Doc a shrug, started his bike, and took off, dust and gravel flying. He bounced over the dirt in the parking lot, sitting light in the saddle. The familiar sensation already had him feeling more comfortable than he had in hours, even after he’s gotten his rocks off with Nikki. His thoughts kept returning to that, to the soft feel of her skin beneath his fingers, the way she had responded to him . . . his dick half rose in interest just at the memory. He shook his head roughly, focusing on his task.
The asphalt passed beneath his feet in a blur, the plains extending as far as the eye could see. The sun had begun to set, casting the landscape into varying shades of purple. He probably should have waited until morning, but something nagged at him. He couldn’t identify what it was, but he had to do something—and away from her. The longer he stayed with Nikki, the more dangerous things would become. Not for her, but for him. The last thing he needed was to get involved with a woman. Even a passionate, beautiful woman like Nikki. Those secrets . . . secrets that could get him into trouble. Trouble that he didn’t need.
The air blew hot against his face and tugged at his clothing. He squinted against the wind, hearing nothing but the roar of his engine beneath him, and a short distance behind him, the distinct and lower rumble of Doc’s motorcycle. He didn’t need a babysitter. He’d known that Levi had insisted that the anyone riding outside of official club events go out in pairs while the Jokers were still causing problems. But he’d never thought that applied to him, too. And Grady? They could take care of themselves, and Levi knew that.
Sure, tensions had grown between the club and the Jokers, but Seth wasn’t afraid of them. Fucking cowards ran in small packs. Rarely did you see a Joker out alone or even with a buddy. Nevertheless, he didn’t need someone watching his every move.
He had his gun tucked into his waistband, and he was sure that Doc carried as well. Still, when it came to experience, Seth was more than capable of taking care of himself. Doc? He wasn’t sure. The younger man had never been really tested and hadn’t directly engaged the Jokers since he’d arrived. In fact, though Doc rode with the club when they were out in the group, he rarely ventured anywhere by himself. Why was that?
Seth forced distracting thoughts from his mind and rode for roughly twenty miles out into the plains, the two-lane asphalt road damaged by last winter’s chills, the low temperatures causing the asphalt to buckle and surge in places. Then spring rains had made a mess of them, so he needed to pay attention to avoid some of the larger, deeper potholes and cracks in the pavement. In all that twenty miles, he hadn’t seen one vehicle pass him, though that wasn’t surprising. This route wasn’t one of the busiest that led northwest away from Oklahoma City. The interstate was a bit further south, and another northwest state road traversed the city, a lot closer to the city than their headquarters.
Finally, slowing his bike, he rolled past an intersection, beyond which several outbuildings rose, casting long shadows to the east. Another mile or two and he came to the warehouse, surrounded by a battered and leaning chain-link fence. He stopped his bike and pulled off onto the shoulder of the road about one hundred yards away, eyeing the place. Doc pulled up behind him, following suit. Neither said a word. Seth looked for any sign of Jokers, any sign of movement, any indication that anyone was present at the warehouse. Nothing. No cars, no trucks, and no bikes.
Seth wasn’t taking chances. He turned to look over his shoulder at Doc. “Wait here,” he said. “I want to take a look around the back.”
“Levi said I should stay with you—”
“And I said stay back,” Seth repeated. “If something happens, you go back to the headquarters and get the others.” Reluctantly, Doc nodded.
Seth slowly slipped his bike into low gear and moved forward, turning off the shoulder and riding into the high grasses and desert shrubs of the landscape around the structure, glancing between the route he picked and the warehouse, now on his left. He made a wide circle around the place, but didn’t see any bikes or vehicles parked behind the warehouse structure. He rejoined Doc. “I want to take a look around the place. Maybe we can find something that we missed before.”
Doc nodded and followed him on his bike through the large gap in the fencing, pulling up in front of the warehouse. Bullet holes riddled the metal door, frozen in time nearly three-quarters of the way up. Black soot stained parts of the door threshold, licking upward before they faded. Too bad the fucking place hadn’t burned to the ground. Doc gazed at the bullet holes and then turned to Seth.
“What was inside?”
Seth shrugged. “Some drugs. We set fire to them.” Doc nodded and once again Seth ordered him to stay put. “Keep a lookout,” he said, using the heel of his boot to lower the kickstand and swung his leg over the seat in one smooth motion. “Holler if you see anybody coming from either direction.”
He didn’t wait for Doc to reply but entered the structure, moving slowly, sticking to the shadows, just in case. It smelled of burned pot, oil, and grease, and something else unpleasant, maybe a dead rat or two that had
gotten caught in the fire. Seth strode the perimeter of the inside of the structure, looking for any clue as to why Nikki had been kidnapped.
She hadn’t actually made it into this space, at least not when he and the others had waited at the warehouse. But maybe, maybe there was something in here . . . he kicked at several piles of trash, some clothing, and a half-burned mattress. Near the mattress, embedded in the wall, he spied an eye screw. A big one. Not far away from the disgustingly dirty mattress lay a small pile of chain. A dog chain? Or a human chain? He frowned, anger surging through him at the thought of Nikki being chained and afraid on the mattress, surrounded by the Jokers, not knowing what they planned to do to her.
The thought prompted a surge of another emotion. Regret? Him? He shook the feeling away. He hadn’t chained Nikki anywhere. He hadn’t forced himself on her, either. He had locked her in, yes, but—he mumbled under his breath, couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid, so shortsighted, so . . . so curious about her that he hadn’t even thought about it. He had locked her in the cabin, but nothing prevented her from opening the door from the inside. What a fucking idiot he was. He almost laughed at his stupidity. Then again, he wasn’t the only one who would realize that. Callie had gone in as well. Why hadn’t Nikki tried to escape? All she had to do was test the door. Was she afraid? Perhaps, but he couldn’t know for sure. He needed to know more about her. This recon was nothing more than a desperate attempt to figure it out.
Finally, finding nothing inside the warehouse that would give him a clue about Nikki’s situation, he emerged from the structure, relishing the relatively fresh air just outside the door. He gazed down at the dirt where the truck had been, remembering every detail of the Joker reaching inside the bed of the truck and dragging Nikki out. His gaze followed the tire marks of the truck, still discernible in the loose dirt of the yard. He glanced at Doc. “I want to see where those tracks go.”
Confession (Steel Kings MC Book 2) Page 8
