A couple of whistles and a few grumbles came in response. But to Sam’s relief, the men seemed to accept Connor’s order without challenging it. One by one, they turned back to their drinks – not without a couple of pointed glances at her ass and legs first.
Sam felt self-conscious here at Jack’s Bar. But at the same time, she felt strangely protected. She knew she was probably crazy for coming here with pretty much a total stranger. But something about Connor – even though she imagined he would be dangerous if you made an enemy of him – told her that he would never lay a hand on her, without first knowing it was what she wanted. Not like Nick, she thought to herself with disgust. Hell, a man like Connor wouldn’t have to take advantage of a woman. A man like Connor had to have his share of females dropping at his feet on a regular basis.
Which made her wonder why in the world he had chosen her to spend time with this evening.
His hand on the small of Samantha's back, Connor guided her through the bar toward the back. Sam noticed a group of women, heavily made up and dressed in tight clothes and high heels, glancing in their direction with jealousy in their eyes. Once in the back, Connor opened a door marked "Private" and gestured Sam inside. He shut the door behind her, turned to her, and gently but forcefully pushed her back against the wall next to the door frame.
"I have a confession to make," he murmured into her ear.
"What?" Sam responded hesitantly.
"I've been watching you. For weeks. Coming and going from the Half-Moon. Noticing your schedule."
“You... you have?”
“Yeah,” the feel of his warm breath against her skin sent shivers down her spine. “Finally decided to go inside and see if you were as hot up close as you were far away.”
Sam’s breath hitched in her throat. She stared up at him uncertainly. His eyes were dark and hooded. For a second, she wondered if she should be frightened. But then she realized he was waiting for her to respond. Not moving closer, until he saw the sign that she wanted him to.
“And?” she asked softly. Her lower lip slipped between her teeth as she looked up at him.
Connor chuckled, deep in his throat.
“Even hotter,” he growled.
Connor’s lips came down on Sam's, gently at first, then more roughly. His tongue found hers, and her body responded instantly. With a shiver, she melted against him and kissed back hungrily. Her response excited him further, and he pressed his hardness along the length of her. She could feel his heat between her legs, and she eagerly pushed against it, moaning, feeling her own throbbing response, her wetness.
Oh, god, yes. It felt so good. She suddenly wanted desperately for him to be lying on top of her, crushing her with his weight, pushing his hard cock inside her, filling her. She felt both of his hands move down to her hips and under her skirt. She trembled at his groan of satisfaction as he felt her small thong as the only barrier between them. He unbuckled his belt, and a second later his jeans fell to the floor with a soft thud. She heard the crinkle of what was unmistakably a condom wrapper. Then suddenly, he had hoisted her up against the wall and he was inside her, enormous, hard and throbbing.
She cried out in pleasure. His mouth moved over hers, muffling the noise. He filled her again and again, thrusting slowly at first but then faster and deeper, both of them clinging to one another desperately as he pushed as deeply into her as he could. Almost immediately she could sense her orgasm building up in her from far away, growing closer, more consuming, until she gasped and arched her back. She came in wave after wave, in rhythm with his thrusts. Through the haze of her pleasure, she heard his breath speed up as he rode her orgasm, and then with a roar he exploded inside her, the pulsing of his cock prolonging her ecstasy.
Slowly, slowly, their passion ebbed as they clung to one another, panting and sated. Connor lowered her gently to the ground, cupped her chin in his hands, and kissed her once again, slowly and passionately. "Fuck, Samantha,” he growled. “I’ve been waitin’ to do that."
Sam, still shuddering against him, could only stare up at him and try to get her breathing back under control. She had never been taken like that -- with such force and so completely. And especially not with a man she had just met, and knew essentially nothing about.
Connor chuckled as he breathed into her hair. “Sorry, I promised you that drink but I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“Can... can I take a rain check?” she whispered. “I should probably get home.”
“If it means I get to see you again, then I’m good with that.” He lowered her to the ground. “I’ll walk you back to the Half-Moon.”
They went out the back door. Sam was grateful she did not have to look at the other bikers in her breathless and disheveled state. Connor’s hand was on her back again as they walked back to the bar. It felt nice. Possessive, but in a good way.
The two of them walked in a silence, and she found herself imagining what it would be like to be Connor Kincaid’s girlfriend. Sam barely managed to suppress the snort that almost erupted from her at the thought. Right, I’m sure a big dangerous biker guy like him is going to fall for a girl like me.
She was still smiling at the ridiculous thought as they arrived at the parking lot of the Half-Moon. She nodded toward her car, and he walked her to it.
“So,” he grinned. “you good with me comin’ back here again sometime to see you?”
Sam’s stomach fluttered – half-thrilled that he really wanted to see her again, half-disappointed that he might just be saying it to let her down easy.
Samantha thought briefly about playing hard to get, and then realized that she was incapable of it. She wanted very much to see him again, and was already craving his touch despite her exhaustion and the suspicion that she would be very sore tomorrow.
“Sure,” she murmured, happy that the low light of the street lamp hid her blush.
For the next few nights, Connor came to the bar every evening around nine p.m. and sat at the same table as he had that first night. Every night, at the end of her shift, he bought her a drink – much to Nick’s irritation – and then he took her down the street to Jack’s. After that first night, he didn’t immediately lead her to the back room, but that’s always how the evening finished – with her crying out as she shuddered against him.
Sam really didn’t understand what he saw in her. And she didn’t know where, if anywhere, all this was going. But she found that she didn’t care. Not that much, anyway. She just wanted her evenings with Connor to keep happening. The thought that eventually he’d get tired of her and stop coming to the Half-Moon made her sad. But she was determined to enjoy whatever this was, as long as it lasted.
The bikers at Jack’s started to get used to seeing Samantha come in with Connor – or Crow, as they called him. One of them, a large, barrel-chested man named Wrench, even asked if she was Crow’s ‘old lady’ now.
“He doesn’t mean anything by it,” Connor laughed when Sam wrinkled her forehead. “It basically means wife. Permanent girlfriend. That kinda thing.”
“Oh.” Sam didn’t have the guts to ask him anything more about that. She was sure he didn’t think of her as anything but someone to have fun with. But she did notice that he didn’t seem angry at Wrench for asking the question. In fact, Connor had put his arm around her waist and drawn her to him. “That’s between me and Samantha, brother,” he said to Wrench, but not in a harsh way.
Sam finally found out the real reason Connor had been hanging around the Half-Moon about a week later.
It was late in the afternoon on a weekday – hours before he was due to come in for his nightly drink – and the bar was in its pre-dinner lull. As was often the case at this time, Sam was the only waitress working. Hallie wasn’t due to show up until later, when things started to get busy.
Nick had been particularly surly to her that day. He had been barking orders at her, and finding fault with the way she washed glasses or wiped down tables. Sam was irritated, but also sort of amused
. She had a feeling his bad attitude had a lot to do with Connor’s nightly appearances. She figured Nick was probably angry that another man had managed to charm her where he had failed. Luckily for Sam, she was pretty sure he was also intimidated enough by the biker that he would never act out enough for Sam to tell Connor about it, and risk his wrath.
Sam was wrapping silverware in napkins in one of the booths, humming to herself, when the front door flew open. Four large men, all of them dark and menacing, converged on the bar. Nick, glancing over, turned white as a sheet when he saw them.
“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” he called out, too loudly.
“I think you know,” the largest of the men said.
“No, I don’t!”
“We’re here to collect what you owe Mr. Yassine.”
Nick’s panicked face sent a shot of alarm racing through Sam’s veins. Shrinking back against the booth as slowly as she could, she tried to be invisible and soundless as she tried to understand what was going on.
“I... I don’t have it,” Nick stammered. “I told him I need more time to come up with that kind of money.”
“You entered into a deal with Mr. Yassine,” a second man scoffed, shaking his head. “Mr. Yassine is a businessman. He takes a commitment very seriously.”
“I know! I swear, I’m not trying to screw him!” Nick cried in a panicked voice. “Look,” he began to wheedle, “If I’m not... I mean, if I get hurt, then he won’t get the money at all, right? So, it’s in his best interest if I’m okay, working toward...”
“Mr. Yassine don’t need anyone giving him advice,” the large man cut him off. “He’s been patient. He’s done being patient.”
Two of the remaining men started forward, moving around the end of the bar toward Nick. He screamed, and tried to lurch in the opposite direction, but the bar was too high for him to leap over it. The men grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him back. Sam was so frightened that she let out a strangled cry.
The large one who had been doing most of the talking turned to look at her.
He smiled, except it wasn’t a smile at all.
“You’re a witness,” he stated, matter of factly.
“No,” she whispered. “No, I...”
But the man had already started walking toward her. A scream tried to escape her, but her throat contracted and all that came out was air. Terror made black dots appear before her eyes as she realized there was no way of escaping – and that whatever this man was about to do, there was no stopping him. She was about to be hurt, badly. Maybe worse. Her life was about to change forever.
The fear had hold of her so tightly that she barely heard the loud crash behind the man, or the explosion after it. Her brain was beyond registering what anything meant. All she knew was that the large man had stopped walking toward her. That he had dropped to the ground.
And that now, Connor was there in front of her.
“Come on, darlin’, you don’t wanna see this,” he said in a hard voice. He pulled her up gently from the booth and wrapped his warm, strong arm around her. As he led her out of the bar, Connor said, “Keep your eyes on the door. Just look straight ahead.”
Sam did as he told her, trying to keep her eyes locked ahead of her. But even so, she dimly registered that there were more men now, and that some of them were wearing the same leather vest Connor did. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a body lying prone on the ground, and a flash of vivid red. She shrunk into Connor’s chest, shivering, and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other until they were outside.
“I think we should get out of here, darlin’,” Connor said gently, taking her hand. “Your boss is okay, but there’s a couple guys in there who ain’t. You don’t wanna be in there if someone heard the gunshots and called the cops.”
Numbly, Sam allowed herself to be led to her car. “Give me the keys,” he growled. “You’re in no condition to drive.” She did as she was told, realizing that somehow, her purse had appeared around her neck.
Connor opened the passenger door and helped her in, then got in the other side. “Address?” he asked.
She told him, the words coming automatically. In shock, she didn’t say another word for the rest of the short drive. Connor helped her out of the car again, and walked up the steps with her to the front door. Soon, they were inside her apartment. Only when Sam was sitting on the couch, in her familiar surroundings, did she start to cry.
“It’s okay, darlin’.” Connor said, his voice husky. He held her in his arms, and waited patiently as she sobbed.
When finally she quieted, she closed her eyes and took a few shaky, deep breaths to calm herself. Opening them again, she found Connor’s gaze locked on her, his face a mask of concern.
“You gonna be okay, Sam?”
She nodded and swallowed. “Can you tell me what just happened there?”
“Your boss is an idiot, is what happened,” Connor said darkly. Squeezing her hand once, he got up and went to her tiny kitchen. He filled a glass with water and came back to her, putting it in her hands. Sam drank, and he continued.
“Your boss took out a loan with Joe Yassine,” he explained. “I don’t know the details, except apparently he was in debt on the bar, and couldn’t get the money from anyone else. Yassine...” Connor paused. “He ain’t a good person. Definitely not the person to borrow money from, and then get behind on the loan.”
Connor continued. “About a month ago, I saw Yassine’s men go in to the bar one night as your boss was closing the place. You and the other waitresses were already gone. I figured something was up, because Yassine himself doesn’t make house calls for no reason.” Connor lifted a finger to his chin and tilted her face up to his. “Like I said, I’d been watching you come and go, for a while,” he said softly. “I didn’t want anything to happen to you. So, I had my club start doing surveillance on the bar. Just in case.”
Sam’s head was spinning from all this information. “So, you came into the Half-Moon that first time...”
“To keep an eye on you. Yeah.” Connor shifted closer to her on the couch. “And to check out the layout of the place. See where the entrances and exits were. But mostly to keep an eye on you. Because I figured Yassine’s men would be back. And I wanted my men to be ready.”
“I can’t believe... I can’t believe you did that for me.” Sam was stunned.
“Well, I sure as hell didn’t do it for your prick of a boss,” Connor snorted. “That asshole deserved worse than he got. Thanks to you, he gets to live to see another day.”
“Thanks to you, you mean,” Sam protested.
“Sure,” he shrugged, the hint of a grin pulling at one corner of his mouth. “But I would never have bothered to save his ass, if not for you.”
Sam laughed softly. “I guess he is lucky, then.”
“Yeah,” Connor agreed. “But not as lucky as I am. Lucky that because of all this, I met you.”
Connor drew Sam into his arms. His mouth moving to hers, he gently bit her lower lip, making her shudder with desire. With a groan, he murmured, "God, Sam, I fucking want you."
“I want you, too.” She couldn’t remember wanting anything more, in fact. It was as though the adrenaline coursing through her veins had flipped a switch in her, from fear to desire. She needed him inside her. She needed to feel his rough hands on her. She could hardly wait for it.
Connor seemed to sense this. He pulled her on top of him on the couch and pushed down the neck of her low-cut dress to reveal her breasts. Unclasping and tossing aside her bra, he caught one nipple gently between his teeth. As she moaned in response, arching forward to meet his mouth, he groaned against her skin. Shifting, he took her hand and guided it between his legs to his hard cock. “Do you feel what you do to me?” he growled. “What you always do to me?”
Unable to stand it any longer, she reached for his zipper and awkwardly tried to lower it. He grabbed her hand and pulled it away.
“Take me to your bedroom,
darlin’. We’re gonna do this right for a change.”
Rising from the couch, Sam bit her lower lip and took a step toward the hall. Knowing he was watching her, she swayed her hips a bit as she made her way to the bedroom. Once inside, he moved in front of her, sat down on the bed and looked at her.
"Undress for me," he ordered.
Samantha had never put herself on display like this for a man before. Forcing herself to push away any self-conscious thoughts, she pulled down on the low neckline of her dress, past her stomach, over her hips, and to the floor. She stepped out of it and stood before him, wearing only her thong.
“Touch yourself.”
With only a moment’s hesitation, she reached down and slid one finger under the material of her thong. She was so wet that the fabric was soaked through, and she drew in a sharp breath as her fingers found her slick and swollen folds. With the other hand, she reached up and found a taut nipple, letting out a moan as she squeezed it gently. Her eyelids fluttered as she pleasured herself in front of him. She was rewarded by the intensity of Connor’s stare as he openly lusted after her. “Fuck,” he rumbled. His breathing grew ragged and more audible as he watched her. He reached down and stroked his manhood through his jeans.
Sam continued to touch herself for a few more moments, listening to her own breathing become ragged like his. Suddenly, Connor stood and crossed the room quickly to meet her. He lifted her in his arms before turning and depositing her on the bed. He spread her legs and plunged his tongue inside her, licking as deeply as he could.
Samantha cried out loudly, sure she was about to lose control any second. He pushed her legs even further apart and licked and lapped at all of her, seemingly wanting to devour her. But instead of letting her come, he pulled back instinctively every time she got close, then moved forward to tease her again, until she thought she would go mad from the need to find her release. Finally, when she felt a tidal wave of orgasm building inside her, Connor didn’t pull back, but instead kept licking and teasing her. Samantha’s body tensed and then exploded, and then she was crying out his name, heat radiating out from the center of her as she bucked against his tongue. He kept her there, shock wave after shock wave, the slightest pressure of his tongue sending her into a fresh round of spasms. The pleasure was so insane, so beyond anything she had felt before, that she grasped the bedsheets desperately, as though without the anchor of them she would fly apart.
Twisted Tales of Mayhem Page 49
