“You want to go to the bathroom with me?” She stiffened then snuggled her cheek against his bicep, slipping around to stand next to him, fingers threading through his belt loops. With an even tone Justine told him, “That’s either kinky or a Daddy need.”
“Never had that before, but maybe it’s a little of both, babe. I just want you safe and protected, and there’s a fuckton of unknowns here tonight.” He pulled her hand loose from his clothing and fit his fingers between hers. “You and me, we’ll figure ourselves out, every single day. Don’t matter if it’s the same as the one before, or we need somethin’ a little different that day. I’m tellin’ you now that we can adjust on the fly. We get done with this tonight, and you’re on the back of my bike, babe. We’re gonna go to my house and be there until you have to leave. I’ll let Twisted know I’m out of commission for—how long do you have?” They should have had this conversation earlier, and not on a public landing within the house, with his brothers and her blood brother nearly within hearing distance.
“I have two weeks, but I need to be back sooner to check on my momma. She’s in a home in Adken and gets upset if I’m gone too long.”
“We’ll take a road trip, you can see her in a few days, and then we’ll circle back to here in time for you to head home.” She stiffened, muscles growing tense. “Baby, you don’t have to try and intro me to her. This is me trying to give you what you need, while still takin’ what I want.”
“It’s just the idea of her meeting you is…good.” She laughed nervously, the sound jarring and sharp-edged. “Which is weird, because it might upset her, and normally I’d be a country mile on the other side of anything that might have that result. But meeting you, even if she didn’t remember it the next day…” She laughed again, this more settled, low and easy. “That feels good. I’m being weird, I know. You don’t have to—”
“Justine LaPorte, you’re not being weird.” Wildman turned to face her, cupping her cheeks in his palms and tilting her face up towards his. “And I won’t sit here and listen to my beautiful woman putting herself down.” Pressing their lips together in a dry, soft peck, he kept his eyes open, watching as her lids fluttered closed, lashes brushing against the apple of her cheek. “That’s a hard limit for me, baby. I’m not blind to flaws, and God knows I got enough of my own, but I won’t allow you to be unreasonably hard on yourself. There’s enough assholes out there in this mean old world who’ll be fuckin’ happy as a clam to do it for you. So knock it the fuck off, hear me?”
She leaned forwards, forehead thumping against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her again, waiting.
“Definitely a little bit of Daddy there.”
“And you fuckin’ love it.”
“I thought I loved pain.” This was low and ragged, the words exiting her body on a rough exhale.
“I think you do. Fuck, woman, I know you do. It turns you on like nobody’s business. But you like to be controlled, too. No.” He shook his head as she pulled back and looked up. “Not controlled, but you like to selectively give up control. Make it so you don’t have to think, make a decision, or determine a path forward. You like giving that up to someone you trust. I’d bet big money on your previous playmates being more traditional Doms, mysterious scenes requiring you go with the flow, and then aftercare, which you probably liked just as much, or maybe even more than everything else, no matter how deep you’d gone. Am I right?”
“Yeah.” She blinked, and the sparkle of unshed tears were like diamonds on her lashes. “Got it in one, Wild.”
“We get to my house, we’ll talk more about what we both want in that arena. Right now—” He reached down and adjusted his hard cock, so it lay more comfortably along his hip. “Right now, we gotta get to and through the meet-n-greet portion of the evening, and then we’ll get the fuck outta Dodge, yeah?”
“Yeah.” She fit herself against his front, her fingers grazing along the length of his dick, nails scraping across the denim fabric. “And then this is my play toy again.”
He groaned into her hair, hips thrusting. With a sigh, he pulled back, gathered her hand up in his with a gentle squeeze, and turned her with a determined push. “Downstairs, now.” They took the stairs side by side, went out into the humid Louisiana air, and he was glad for Twisted’s insistence on citronella because there wasn’t a single mosquito to mar Justine’s skin with a welt. That’s my job, he thought darkly, and stifled a chuckle.
We get to my house we’ll have the discussion.
It wasn’t like him to play without understanding his partner’s hard, and more importantly, their soft limits, the ones he could push and tweak, looking for the interest that made a gray area of consent. He had a feeling that, like him, Justine would have her information on the tip of her tongue, readily available. And the tiniest twinge of jealousy he felt for the why—can just go fuck itself. She was with him now, no one else.
She came to me.
Not once, during the confusing time surrounding her rescue, but twice now, both of her own volition. This time, she’d been seeking more than a hot cock to help her rise above her experiences.
This time she wanted the whole shebang.
He opened the back door to the clubhouse, nodding at the prospect standing next to it, and followed Justine through. His hand slipped underneath the waistband of her jeans, fingertips resting just above the crease of her ass. The sound levels had decreased from before, and he no longer heard the running thuds of children’s footsteps. A glance at the clock over the sink said he and Justine had been upstairs far longer than he’d thought, and he smirked. Mason’s gonna have a good idea what was takin’ so long. Now to see if the man could look past the personal relationship his sister had with an officer of a rival club and be sweet to her. If he doesn’t— “Justine, this is your only warning. Your brother gives you shit above a level I think is warranted, which is less than ankle-high, if you get my meaning, then I’m gonna shut him down. I wasn’t kidding when I said there were assholes out to tear a body down, any chance they get. If he’s one of those, then I’ll drop the hammer on him in a heartbeat.”
She laughed, the delicate belling of her humor preceding them into the main room, so everyone within twenty feet of the door was watching as they walked through.
“He’s not like that.” She leaned against his side, and he adjusted his hold, draping his arm over her shoulder. Her fingers threaded through his belt loops again, and he reached back with his other hand to pat them, telling her silently he liked her claiming him like that. “Promise.”
“Well, mine’s a promise too.” He wiped the smile from his face as he steered her through the clusters of men and women towards where he could see Twisted’s back. His president had placed himself in the most vulnerable spot in the circle of men where he stood, as always, taking on the uncomfortable-feeling position to give his brothers pride in his trust in them, believing they’d protect him at all costs.
Someone must have said something, because Twisted glanced over his shoulder, then slowly spun in place as he put his palms together forcefully, leading the entire room in a round of enthusiastic, if also sarcastic, applause.
“Well done, brother. Was quite a fuckin’ show, and we didn’t even get to see a damn square of flesh. Well fuckin’ done, man.” Twisted reached out, and Wildman gave Justine a squeeze to tell her to stay right next to him, then met Twisted’s palm with his own, letting himself be pulled in for a one-armed clinch. “Out-fucking-standing, brother.”
“Fuck you.” He pulled back and reclaimed Justine’s shoulders, tracing along the edge of her sleeve with his thumb. He kept up the caress, grazing her skin in a back-and-forth movement meant to reassure. Always on my mind, baby. “And the horse you rode in on.”
Pony grinned at him from across the circle, and Wildman realized he’d parked himself and Justine next to Twisted, taking up space with their backs to the room. Measure of trust. He scanned the other faces, noting the three not smiling, as he nodde
d in equal greeting to the rest of his brothers. Only then did he bring his gaze back to meet Mason’s.
To give the man credit, he adhered to protocol and didn’t so much as glance at Justine, who was close to Wildman’s side as she could be. Wild pulled her in front of him, then arranged her at his other side, so he wouldn’t have to move away from her again, and she snuggled in tight against him. Her tiny sigh of contentment had his lips curling up, and he knew Mason didn’t miss the expression.
Twisted elbowed Wildman, chuckled, then began the introductions, both needed and unneeded. “Wild, you’ve met Mason.” Wildman inclined his head, receiving a brusque chin lift in response. “Gunny’s parked next to him, and on the other side is Hoss, both from Fort Wayne.”
Wildman reached out, giving Gunny’s hand a double-pump as he said, “Seen you around, here and there. Well met.” Gunny was silent, his side-eye of Mason saying enough for two conversations. “Hoss, I know your brother well. Retro’s a helluva man, and I’ve only heard good things about you. No surprise that. Welcome to our house, man.”
“Good meetin’ you, Wildman. I’ve heard things too.”
Wildman squeezed Justine’s shoulders when he heard her soft giggle, and he grinned broadly. “I just bet you have, Hoss.” Turning back to Mason, he leaned in a little. “We should probably have a private conversation soon.” His hesitation was momentary, but he wanted to make a statement with his words. “Brother.” Mason nodded. “Anyone important to Jussie is gonna be high on my list of folks to get to know, because this is stickin’.”
“Is it now?” Mason looked down at Justine, features wreathed in a smile that was soft and heartfelt. “You’re lookin’ good, Justine.”
“I am good, Davy.” She tipped her head so her temple rested against Wildman’s bicep, and a coal of warmth bloomed in his chest at the possessive gesture, clearly designed to telegraph her feelings. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for everything.” Glancing up at Wildman, she leaned forwards, and he released his grip on her shoulder, watching as she moved towards her brother to be enveloped in his arms. Mason cradled her to his chest as if she were the most precious thing in the room, and Wildman liked what that said about the man, about the relationship these two complicated people had carved out for themselves. “Not just riding all over while you were looking for me, but your words of wisdom.”
“Older brothers are supposed to have a bit of that, sweetheart. I’m just glad it all turned out okay.” The rumbled words were intended for an audience of one, but Wild was highly focused on this reunion, determined to ensure it went well for Justine’s sake.
Looked like he had nothing to worry about. Mason’s eyes had dropped closed, and he appeared to be drinking in the affection Justine had for him. Wildman remembered hearing through the grapevine a few years back how Mason had found unexpected family in a couple of places. Justine must have been one of those he’d grown up not knowing about. More of his father’s fuckery, Wildman thought.
The instant Justine pulled away, Wildman’s hands were on her hips, guiding her back in front of him. He folded his arms across her chest, head next to hers as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin just behind her ear. “You good, Jussie?” Hair tangled with his, she nodded, and he gave her lobe a tiny nip. “We’ll only stay as long as you want. Gimme a sign and we’ll head home.” He didn’t miss the way she melted into him when he said that word. Home was something that clearly held importance to her, and he locked the info away to dig into at some point in the future. “You know Hoss and Gunny?” She nodded again, cheeks creasing into a smile. “It’s all good here, baby. This is a family night.”
“Was a family night,” Twisted butted in, humor thick in his voice. “Kids are all gone. Just us grown-ups here now.”
“Yeah, we’re acquainted.” Justine leaned against his chest as Wildman straightened. “Hi, boys.” She gave a little wave, arms restricted by his hold. “I’d hug you, but this man seems to be determined to tie me up tonight.” Wildman’s shoulders started shaking, and he chuckled in her ear. “So to speak.”
“I’ll tie you up, woman. Just give me the green and we’ll have a playdate like you won’t believe.” Wildman pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Behave, Jussie.”
“Yes, Sir,” she retorted back, sassy as all hell.
“Before y’all start another noisy session here on the main floor, may I have your attention?” Wildman glanced at Twisted, who was no longer smiling. “I’ll give you tonight, but we’ll have business to discuss tomorrow. So don’t get a wild hair up your ass and go for a run. Need you here well before lunch, say ten or so. You can bring your woman, but she’ll cool her heels in a chair out here. I’d honestly recommend leavin’ her home.” Twisted tipped his head at Justine, who returned the gesture. “No offense meant.”
“Like you meant no offense having me show up here tonight, when I’d specifically asked for an opportunity to talk to Wildman in private?” Justine delivered the words quietly, carelessly even, no tensing of her muscles to say she understood she was poking a very dangerous bear. “No worries, Twisted. I’m kinda hard to offend.”
“Worked out for ya, didn’t it?” Twisted shrugged easily, his smirk never entirely fading. “Big bad Fed caught herself an outlaw. Sounds like the setup for a bad TV drama. How the fuck is this supposed to work in real life, huh?”
Justine’s rib cage expanded under Wildman’s hold, and he tipped his head to look at the side of her face, surprised to find a brilliant smile there. “That’s something I have a few ideas about, none of which my bosses are going to like.” She turned her face to his, and he captured her lips in a soft, slow kiss, ending with a tiny smack. “Conversation number two after we get home.”
Resolute, certain, secure, and fearless—and he loved the look on her.
***
Justine
She’d had people at her back before. Formidable people. People she trusted, who believed in her, showing it in word and deed. She’d made promises, knowing she could carry through on them in her own right, having confidence in her abilities to negotiate, fight, or cooperate with whoever she needed to.
She’d never felt as powerful as she did with Wildman’s arms wrapped around her. Protected by his public claim, visible on her throat in the form of purple bruises, and with his possession of her implied and apparent in his physical hold on her. Most important was the way his belief in her saturated every word sent her direction. She could do anything with him at her side.
She’d caught Hoss’ gaze on her throat while he was introduced to Wildman, and from the tiny quirk of his lips, thought he might approve. Then, Davy’s words during their embrace had very deliberately avoided any introduction of her relationship with Wildman, or even her presence in this clubhouse at his side. Her brother had chosen to focus on their hard-won sibling closeness, circling her safety with his promises of supporting her.
Facing down Twisted, however, might have been an ill-considered gauntlet. The silence surrounding them grew until her words to Wildman sounded louder than they should have, and she closed her eyes as she turned her head away from Twisted, cheek pressed to Wildman’s chest.
“Actually,” came a new voice to the circle, and she angled her gaze to see Wrench had approached from the side, “the little lady’s take from the Fed side of things might be pivotal to have in the mornin’. If she’ll share her wisdom.” He patted the air as if anticipating an argument. “Not sayin’ you’ve got to compromise anything you’ve oathed on. Just mentionin’ we’ve got knowledge of shit you don’t, and if you want a voice in shit, now’s the time to step up and toe the fuckin’ mark.”
Wildman’s sigh gusted out over her head, his breath stirring her hair as he sucked in another hard one. “One fuckin’ day. Is that too much to goddamned ask around here? I’d planned on ditchin’ for a couple of weeks, but forget that shit, you tellin’ me you can’t do without me for one goddamned day? I’ve got to be back in here in the mornin’, and you know I
’ve got shit I want to do at home, but it don’t fuckin’ matter?”
The shaking of his chest transferred through to her, and it was uniquely satisfying to know they were pressed so close, he couldn’t laugh silently without her knowing.
“My Jussie wants to ride in with me in the mornin’, wants to bring her unique perspective to what-the-fuck-ever you want to talk about, I’ll take a seat beside her at that goddamned table, you can bet your fuckin’ boots. First time for everythin’, right, Twisted?” He huffed, no longer able to hide his laughter, and the shaking grew in intensity. “Oh, wait, that was your own Shiny Penny, back when you were all tied up.” The men around the circle were smiling or chuckling—even Davy—and Justine understood whatever the story was, it wasn’t complimentary to Twisted. “Rode the column, too, didn’t she? Jussie’ll be with me, her sweet, sweet ass and legs wrapped tight around me, there and back, and no matter what happens.” He leaned forwards, the action taking her with him as he looked around the faces of the men nearby. “And not a motherfucker in this room better say one thing sideways to my ole lady. If we’re not fuckin’ clear, then let me know. I got five fingers that’ll send a body to paradise if they wanna start shit.” He straightened, and she echoed his posture, his hands tightening on her ribs. “Mine.”
“Shit, man, you gonna piss on her next to make your fuckin’ point?” The voice was recognizable, and she turned to see Pony stalking up on Wildman’s other side. “Jesus, man, we fuckin’ get it. She’s yours. End of story.” He shook his head, smiling and laughing. “Fuck.”
“Oh, fuck you.” Wildman released her, reaching out to clasp Pony’s hand. He tugged, and Pony bumped against his shoulder, then they both released. “You hear what they’re askin’?”
Tarnished Lies and Dead Ends Page 18
