McGyver

by Candace Blevins

  He sat her on a chair near the wall, beside a sturdy table. Brain showed up with three shot glasses and the bottle of Jäger, and he poured all three. She felt everyone’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look up. Without thinking about it, she slammed all three, one after the other, and then looked up and met Danny’s gaze.

  Chapter 17

  McGyver offered his oh-so-drunk Iris a hand, she put hers in his, and he pulled her up. He had no idea how she’d managed to run the pool table when she’d had to hold onto it to remain standing, but she had.

  “I like your friends,” she told him when they’d passed through the back door and were headed down the steps. “How odd that I knew two of them? I mean, it was a roomful of bikers, and I run with…” She stopped talking a few seconds. “That sounded snobby. It’s just, the crowd I run with is kind of… the kids of the people who run the world, you know?” She sighed. “It’s just the crowd I run with, though. I don’t call any of them my friend. Well, except Clay. I guess he’s the closest I’ve ever had to a girlfriend.” She chuckled. “Well, no, I’ve had a few girlfriends, but what I meant to say was that he’s the closest I’ve had to a bestie. A friend who is a girl. He isn’t, but… fuck. I’m drunk.”

  “Yes, you are. I was pissed at Dawg, at first, for not telling me he knew you, but it sounds like ya’ll didn’t actually know each other, just knew of each other.”

  “He dated someone for a long-assed time. Asked her to marry him and everything, and when she said no, she also broke up with him. I considered getting his attention after they broke up, but it never felt right. He was clearly on the rebound then, and it’s possible he still is, which is unbelievably sad.”

  Right, because wolves mate for life. McGyver hadn’t realized his wolf had mated with Iris until he had her back, but that’s why it hadn’t worked with anyone else. Dawg’s had clearly chosen this supermodel.

  “You shouldn’t repeat that story. It’s Dawg’s past, and he’ll share it with anyone he’s wants to know about it.”

  He opened the door to his room and motioned her through. “I share a bathroom with Slick. Knock before you go in. If you’re in and someone knocks on the other door, just say, ‘Occupied,’ and then about how long until you’ll be out. Under no circumstances are you to go through the door into Slick’s room. There are other rules, but I’ll go over them with you tomorrow, when you’re sober.”

  She looked around the room, and he tried to see it through her eyes. A full-sized bed with a black silk comforter and black silk sheets. She already knew he preferred either cotton or silk for bedding, and never anything synthetic. A glass desk with no drawers was on one wall, and an IKEA cube unit beside it, with jeans folded and stacked in one cube, shirts in another, and the other two had drawers — one with socks and the other with underwear. The bottom two cubes were also open, and they held sneakers. McGyver had purposefully kept everything to a minimum in here because LEO came through with a warrant every once in a while, and he gave them very little to search through.

  She walked to the little night table beside his bed and opened the drawer. Condoms, coconut oil, and Anal Eze lube.

  “Desensitizing lube? You can throw that away. My ass doesn’t need that shit.”

  “Toss it.” Anal means no babies, and the desensitizing cream had let him fuck a lot of girls in the ass when they didn’t think they were up to it, but those days were over.

  And he was perfectly okay with it. His wolf would never let him touch anyone else, anyway, even if he’d wanted to.

  “Don’t want anyone else but you, Blueberry. Throw it away.”

  “Why’d you want me drunk?”

  He smiled. “Take your clothes off and I’ll show you.”

  She crossed her arms. “No. Make me.”

  And that was exactly what he’d hoped she’d say. His Blueberry had never appreciated direct orders.

  “Gladly, but if I have to make you, I get to spank you.” She’d thought the structured power exchange felt fake, but he was betting she’d get into it if he could keep it real.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I told you — that isn’t my thing.”

  He made a point of taking a deep breath. “Your scent says otherwise, Blueberry. Last chance. Strip.”

  She crossed her arms and silently dared him to do it for her. He tried not to look too gleeful as he stalked to her and ripped her shirt off — careful not to hurt her, but he wanted the dramatic start.

  Before she could react, he had her jeans unbuttoned, unzipped and down to her knees. He lifted her, walked to the bed, sat, and folded her over his lap so her head was on the bed and not hanging down. It’s never good to encourage a girl to do shots of Jägermeister and then tilt her head down.

  He popped her on the ass enough to get her attention — a nice sting, but not terribly hard.

  And the brat giggled.

  Three hits to her left cheek and three hits to her right cheek. Fast and moderately hard, and she didn’t giggle, but she didn’t go all wimpy, either.

  “Want you to fuck me, Danny. Not spank me!”

  Five to each cheek. A little harder. Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pale pink.

  She lifted her ass and arched her back. “Want you to make that cock as fat as it’ll go and take my ass, Danny!”

  Five more to each cheek. Harder still.

  “And why haven’t you let me give you a blowjob yet!?”

  McGyver couldn’t help his smile. He gave her ten to each cheek, moderately hard. This time, she yelped and squirmed and wiggled.

  “What do we do when we’re told to strip?” he asked.

  “We refuse, so we’ll get our bottom spanked!”

  He chuckled, but then gave her ten more to each cheek — at full spanking force this time.

  “Fuck, Danny! That hurts!”

  “It’s a spanking. It’s supposed to.”

  “Just how thick can you make your cock?”

  This time, he walloped her left ass cheek twenty times, and then stopped. She kicked and screamed and tried to escape, but he held tight. Her scent told him it hurt, but she was okay.

  He held her about thirty seconds after he stopped, and she finally said, “You’re an asshole. I’m uneven!”

  “Beg me to even you up.”

  “Fuck you!”

  He hit her left ass cheek another twenty times.

  “Dammit! Even me up!”

  “I’m going to count to ten. If you haven’t begged me to even you up, your left cheek will get it again.”

  “Please, Danny! Even me up! Fuck, you’re being a dick!”

  He popped her left cheek once. Hard. “Do you understand what the word beg means?”

  “Please even me up. Fuck, this isn’t right. I need you to make the other cheek as hot. Please, Danny!”

  “There we are.”

  Forty strikes to her right cheek, but he backed off on the intensity towards the end because her scent told him it was starting to be too much. He wanted to leave her wanting more, this first time.

  The whole BDSM thing wasn’t really his thing, either, but he’d had a feeling she got into the mechanics of it more than she wanted to admit. If he could keep it from feeling fake, it would work for her. He liked giving spankings and getting rough, so it wasn’t like it was a hardship.

  He lifted her and turned her, so she was cradled against his chest. “Good girl. Tell me what you want.”

  “Your cock in my ass. Fat. Thick.”

  Sometimes, spanking sobers women up. Other times, it seems to intensify the alcohol. His Blueberry sounded even drunker — unsurprising since those final three shots were also doing their magic now.

  He stood with her and put her in the center of the bed. “My turn to strip. You get to choose the position, so long as I’m on top. Situate yourself.”

  She turned and went to all fours, then sank to knees and chest, with her back an exaggerated arch.

  He made his cock six inches long and as thick as a cola
can.

  “Look at me, Blueberry.”

  She turned her head and her eyes went wide.

  “I’ll narrow down to get in. Tell me when it’s the right size.”

  She gave a tiny nod. Even in her drunken state, she knew starting out that wide would be too much. She stopped him while he was still pretty damned fat. He’d have never started out so thick, but he figured she knew what she could take.

  Still, he spent time lubing her ass and his cock. He used gloves this time, so he could strip them off and be clean.

  He pressed to the outside. “Open for me, Blue. Let me in.”

  She opened, he slid the head in, and they both groaned. “I can go thinner. This is gonna be rough.”

  “Want it rough. Fuck, that spanking made me need this, Danny. I won’t fucking break!”

  He moved one knee forward for leverage, held onto her hips to make sure she stayed put, and pressed in. She gasped, squealed, and even yelped, but she never asked him to back off or slow down, and her scent told him she didn’t just want this, she needed it.

  Danny was rough, and crass, and he made Iris feel like a damned anal virgin — and Iris loved every second of it. There’s something so naughty and wrong about a dick reaming your ass, and yet, it was right. Spread so wide she knew she’d feel it for days, and then the friction when he started moving. Before she could get used to his size he grew bigger. And then a few minutes later, bigger again. His hands, his voice talking oh-so-dirty, and his magical, beautiful cock. She moved as much as she could while he held her, her need so savage inside her, she wanted to demand more, but she’d learned Danny would give her almost anything she wanted if she asked.

  “Please, Danny.” Her voice came out a whisper. A dark rush of need and want.

  “I know, Blueberry. I know.”

  And he gave her more, and more, until she knew she couldn’t take anymore, and yet, she didn’t want him to stop.

  Thankfully, he didn’t.

  In a sparse, dark little room under a biker clubhouse in Chattanooga, Tennessee, Iris had the best sex of her life. A spanking and then an anal reaming, and her orgasm blew the top of her head off. She’d gotten high for years, looking for the ultimate orgasm, but she didn’t need blow, she only needed Danny.

  She dozed off when he went to the bathroom to clean up, and roused a little when he returned and cleaned her — but then he went down on her without warning, the heat of his mouth over her clit, his tongue rasping over the sensitive nerve endings, and her slumbering libido rocketed to life.

  Just before she came, he rose over her, muscles shifting, every move that of a predator. She reached for him, and he bent low enough she could hold his upper arms, so the muscles shifted under her fingers.

  When he entered her this time, it was in her pussy, in basic missionary, and he once again made her look at him when he went in. Those eyes — it wasn’t the predator she saw, but the man. Vulnerable. Open. Hers.

  She’d been sore when he’d made love to her before, but this time it was just the two of them, and he was gentle. Tender. It shouldn’t have worked for her, but her heart was so full she thought she might cry. It was as if his heart and hers were joined. As if the same energy made them beat. One being with two bodies. Merged.

  Hunger. Need. Pleasure. This orgasm made her cry, not because she was sad, but because there were too many feelings. She couldn’t handle them all, so she cried. Overwhelmed.

  Despite the fact she was still drunk, her thoughts were incredibly lucid as she dropped off to sleep.

  In all those years of fucking, she’d never made love. Now, she’d made love twice.

  And his words from earlier, during the hay ride, kept coming back.

  “Every love song has always been about you.”

  She’d had a plan — see Danny once or twice a month until her birthday. Now, she wasn’t sure she could follow the plan. She wanted the world to know she was in love.

  But most of all, she wanted Danny to know how important he was to her.

  Also, she didn’t want to wait even a few days to see him again, much less a month.

  “I need to find a Plan B.”

  “What was Plan A?”

  Her words were a little slurred, but she thought she was thinking straight.

  “See you once a month until my birthday. Maybe twice a month, for a special occasion.”

  “I waited eight years for you and never thought I’d see you again. I can wait another seven months to have you by my side. Patience, grasshopper.”

  Chapter 18

  The following days were filled with research and writing, and the outline of an English paper. Other than giving energy to her other classes when necessary, her waking hours were filled with proving her statement that our male dominated society would never go away if women didn’t stop propping it up.

  She desperately wanted to use what she’d seen of the MC in her paper, but Danny had practically read her the riot act about club rules the morning after their magical night, and about how nothing she saw or heard in the clubhouse could be talked about with people who weren’t there when it happened — not even other bikers or ol’ladies.

  She made it to her math class early and sat in the hallway to look over the day’s lesson. Danny had told her a few weeks earlier that trying to figure it out on her own before class would help her understand it when the professor explained. As usual, he was right. She’d looked it over the night before, and spent ten more minutes trying to make sense of it, until the class before hers finally let out.

  The leader of her security team, Kenny, was usually only around for the complicated days. Bob and Jake were with her today — Bob would stay outside the building and watch her through the window, while Jake would hang out in a little seating area just down the hall from her class. It should probably creep her out, knowing someone was watching her through a classroom window, but she only had to remember her mom’s abduction, and having them close by made her feel safe.

  Fifteen minutes into class, and she miraculously still understood what the professor was saying. She was so busy following the logic, it took her a dozen rapid heartbeats to figure out the sound, and then the smell.

  An explosion, and then smoke. The blast had been close, because she could still feel the percussion vibrating her insides a minute or two later while she waited for the line to make its way out of the classroom.

  The shrieking fire alarms fought with her pulse to create the tempo of the moment, and added to the chaos all around her. She pulled the neck of her shirt over her face and followed her classmates out the hall and away from the smoke. Two left turns and one right turn, and they made it out an emergency exit, onto the street.

  She took in one lungful of clean, cool air, and then her world went dark and she heard a classmate screaming in terror.

  Something was put over her face, and covered her from the top of her head to her throat. She couldn’t see. Shards of panic laced her veins and made it hard to breathe.

  Hands lifted her, and she landed hard on rough carpet. The vehicle accelerated quickly, but the men holding her kept her from being slung backwards. Were they in a van, maybe?

  In less than a minute, her shirt was off and her hands were secured behind her back. The thing on her head was fabric — a balaclava turned around backwards, maybe.

  She couldn’t breathe and thought she might pass out, so she forced herself to stop trying, and then to inhale a slow, deep breath. This was her worst nightmare, but she couldn’t think if she let terror take hold, so she focused on her breathing. Her security team had put her through drills since shortly before she’d started kindergarten. After her mom’s abduction, her therapist had said doing drills would make her feel more prepared. They’d terrified her instead of calming her, but now, she drew upon the willpower she’d used to keep from completely freaking out during those drills.

  “If I’m unhurt, you’ll probably get away with it. I assume you know how to reach my father? I can pro
vide you with contact information, if you need it.”

  “No talking.” She jumped at the mechanical voice. “Allow us to move you when necessary, remain still when left alone, and do not attempt communication again. You will not be violated or injured so long as you and your father follow instructions. We will begin cutting pieces of you off if you speak again. Ears first, then fingers.”

  With only the road and traffic noise echoing in the vehicle, the men cut her clothing away. In less than five minutes, she was completely naked and had been moved to another vehicle — and too frightened to dare protest.

  Now, terror took hold and she couldn’t hold it at bay, because there was no way for her people to track her. No clothes. No purse. No shoes. No phone.

  She was on her own, hogtied on the rough carpet of an SUV or van, and naked.

  They drove a long time, and eventually, the haze of terror dissipated enough for her to think rationally. Jake had likely been stationed on the other side of the bomb. Or, was it big enough to call it a bomb? Explosive device, maybe. Doors had been closed in the hallways, directing traffic away from the exit she was supposed to use. None of her security had been near the door she’d been routed to. In fact, she thought it was one of the exits with a sign saying an alarm would sound, and it was only to be used in an emergency. There’d been no need to have her security there.

  She hoped Jake was okay. How could she live with herself if he’d been killed because of her?

  Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t cry. She needed to keep her head on straight and pay attention.

  Also, she didn’t dare make a sound.

  McGyver was working the control room when he saw the report of an explosion on campus. He punched in the address, saw it was the math and engineering building, and grabbed his phone to check Iris’s schedule because he thought that’s where she was.

  And his heart sank into his feet. She was in math class. He turned the camera on in the main clubhouse room and saw Dawg stretched out, playing a video game.