by K. A. Ware
Triple fuck.
I didn’t even know his name, and he was stalking toward us like he was about to rip Kurt’s arm off and beat him with it. His body moved languidly, powerful like a panther on the hunt. His jaw ticked with every step and his fists drew tight, his knuckles turning white under his grip the closer he got.
My whole adult life I had avoided dangerous men, running from everything I’d known as a child in search of normalcy, but when I got caught up in those gorgeous green eyes the first time, I’d all but leaped into the arms of a biker who could give the boogie man a run for his money.
Completely unaware of the fact that the reaper was making his way over to our side of the stage, Kurt leaned in close to me. “We leave when I say we leave, I’m not afraid of these fuckers, and I’m not gonna run away like a little bitch.”
Green Eyes was almost to us when a commotion toward the front of the club had everyone’s heads turning. I caught a glimpse of the familiar red, and yellow Satan’s Sinners patch and my blood ran cold.
Shit! No, no, no. This cannot be happening.
“Shit!” Delilah shouted, echoing my thoughts, before scrambling off the stage.
I tore my arm from Kurt’s death grip and got to my feet. “Fuck this. I’m leaving!” I had barely finished the words when the first shot rang out.
I hit the floor as the club erupted in chaos. Curled up under the lip of the rack, I watched as tables and chairs flew, listening as people screamed and shouted. Glass shattered and the pop, pop, pop, of bullets flying echoed through the club. Behaving like a rational adult for the first time that night, Kurt fell to the floor next to me. The badass demeanor he had moments ago was long gone as he sat next to me, hyperventilating with his knees to his chest. Had I not been so scared, I would’ve made some smart-ass comment about how much of a pussy he was being.
A few more shots sounded off among the uproar, and I nearly choked on the acrid scent of gunpowder that filled the air. A chair crashed in front of us, followed by a body. Kurt screamed, and I froze.
The patch on the back of his cut identified him as one of the Knights of Mayhem, Portland chapter, and I held my breath. If I had to choose a side in this battle of the bikers between the Knights and the Sinners, I would pick the Knights every time.
The man rolled to his side, and I realized it was Green Eyes, but he wasn’t looking at me, he was staring at something by my foot. Moving my knee to the side, I zeroed in on the black handgun at the same time Kurt reached for it. Without thinking, I kicked the gun toward Green Eyes and out of Kurt’s reach. He was still a stranger, one I knew next to nothing about other than the way he moved while he was inside my body, but one thing was for sure, I trusted him with a weapon more than I trusted Kurt.
Green Eyes grabbed the gun and held my gaze for a beat before getting to his feet in a crouch and moving out of view.
“What the fuck?” Kurt growled, but I didn’t have time for his shit.
I ignored him and assessed the situation from what I could hear. The shooting had stopped, but there were still people yelling and the sounds of chairs scraping across the concrete floor. I risked a peek out of my hiding spot to see a mob of people headed for the entrance of the club.
I have to get out of here.
Leaving Kurt’s sorry ass behind, I bolted out from under the rack.
Kurt caught up to me as I hit a wall of people shoving to get to the tiny front door. I backed away, frantically searching for another way out, and breathing a momentary sigh of relief when I spotted the kitchen window behind the bar.
Turning, I pushed back through the crowd of people and toward the bar. Shoving through the swinging door to the kitchen, I made a beeline for the glowing ‘EXIT’ sign on the opposite end of the narrow space. Several sets of footsteps followed behind as I ran, but I didn’t waste time looking back to see who had followed me. I threw the heavy metal door to the parking lot open and had just stepped across the threshold when someone knocked into me from behind. Losing my balance, I reached out for something to catch myself with but found nothing but air.
I crashed into the ground hard, my hands skidding across the cold asphalt as I tried to break my fall. Groaning, I attempted to get my knees underneath me, but caught a stray foot to the ribs, knocking the wind out of me. My lungs burned as I struggled to suck in a breath, but the swarm of people pouring out the door, their feet kicking and stepping on my prone body made it impossible. A momentary pause in the onslaught of people fleeing the scene allowed me to roll out of the way from the stampede. It took longer than I would’ve liked for my head to stop spinning.
Climbing to my feet, I steadied myself against the side of the building and blinked a few times, letting my vision re-focus and finally catching my breath. Forcing my legs to move, I ran, or tried to run, cursing myself for deciding to wear heels. I reached the front of the building only to see Kurt’s ‘I have a big dick’ truck peeling out of the lot.
“Fuck!” I screamed, my hands fisting in my hair.
Looking around, I watched as people scattered to their cars. I could hear police sirens in the distance above the revving engines. It was bedlam, complete and utter chaos. A group of men had moved the fight outside, not at all concerned with what was going on around them. I had to get out of there before—
“NORAH!”
I spun around automatically, only to see a group of girls running past. My mind caught up as they cleared to reveal who’d called out the name I’d thrown away years ago, and my stomach lurched. Roger ‘Butcher’ Fairbanks, VP of the Satan’s Sinners MC, the scariest motherfucker I’d ever met. He was everything you’d imagine an outlaw biker to be, horrifyingly ruthless, twisted and filthy, the kind of evil nightmares were made of, and his glittering gray eyes were wild and hungry for me.
His smile grew wicked when he realized I recognized him. It had been years, but even if it had been a lifetime I would still remember that face, it was impossible to forget the face that haunted my dreams. He took a step closer, but before I could turn and run, a mean looking bike roared between us and stopped right in front of me.
“Get on!”
Tearing my gaze away from Butcher, I found impatient green eyes staring at me. I gawked, my attention bouncing from one biker to the other, my decision made before I even considered the alternative.
For the second time that night, I decided to put my trust in this man whose name I didn’t even know. Swinging a leg over the Harley, I settled myself behind him and wrapped my arms around my leather-clad hero.
He reached down and patted my hands. “Hold on tight, babe.”
Two
FINLEY
He didn’t waste any time revving the engine and hauling ass out of the parking lot. We shot onto the main street, sailing past cars speeding away from the club. The tires of his bike ate up the road, and he continued at a break-neck pace, putting distance between us and the utter clusterfuck we’d fled from at the club. The sounds of sirens faded under the roar of the pipes as we merged onto the highway.
Molding myself to his back, I let his hips lead mine as we weaved through traffic. There wasn’t anything like it, riding on the back of a bike was nothing short of exhilarating, like you were flying and nothing else mattered but the freedom you felt with the road beneath you and the wind on your face.
“Fuck! Hold on!” he demanded over the thundering growl of his bike as he banked to the right, sending us careening across two lanes of traffic and onto the off-ramp.
Wondering what the hell had him pushing the bike even faster, I lifted my head from his shoulder and strained my neck to see behind us. The glow of three single headlights stood out among the cars as they weaved through the same path we’d taken and launched themselves onto the off-ramp after us.
Dread filled my stomach like a thousand lead rocks, and I prayed to a God I didn’t believe in, that the man I clung to was capable of protecting me. Because I knew, if Butcher got a hold of me, I was as good as dead, and my sister
would be next.
We approached an intersection with a stale yellow light and flew between two cars just as it turned red. If I hadn’t been clenching my teeth so hard, I would’ve screamed. The only protection between myself and the road was a pair of skinny jeans and a leather jacket, which wouldn’t do jack shit to save me if I hit the pavement going what had to be at least a hundred miles per hour. Throw in the fact that I wasn’t wearing a helmet and even the slightest mistake would most certainly mean my brain matter decorating the highway.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was probably less than five minutes, the bike began to slow, and I pulled my head up from the sexy biker’s back. We turned into an industrial park, and I chanced a glance behind us, nothing. My elation at losing Butcher was short lived because when we pulled around one of the warehouses, and green-eyes cut the engine, I could still hear the sound of Harley pipes in the distance.
My mystery man tapped my leg, and I took the cue for what it was, bracing myself on his shoulders as I climbed off the bike. He followed suit, swinging his leg over and coming to stand in front of me. His eyes raked over my body, taking me in from head to toe, his face a blank canvas of impassiveness.
I felt my hands go clammy as he took a step forward into my personal space, I matched his advance with my retreat until my back hit the cinderblock wall and I had nowhere else to go. He leaned in, the tang of the tequila he’d shot back in the club still on his breath as he captured a lock of my wild hair between his fingers, playing with it. When his eyes met mine again, there was fire behind them, a fire that made my core clench and my toes curl in my heels.
“It’s been a long time, Rabbit,” he rasped, his voice like silk over broken glass.
He remembered me?
I stood there slack-jawed at his admission. I had convinced myself that he hadn’t recognized me at the club and was making his way to Kurt and I because he was pissed about seeing a woman manhandled. Yeah right. I reminded myself he was a biker; for all I knew, he saw that shit on the regular.
Closing my eyes for a beat, I tried to regain my composure, but it was a lost cause. My nipples tightened, and my breath became labored as I remembered just how incredible it felt when that voice whispered filthy demands in my ear.
I parted my lips to tell him to back off, but my mouth had other plans. “You remember me?” I hated how breathy my voice sounded to my ears. I wasn’t some sex-starved biker groupie that would fall at the feet of any man who paid her attention. I was better than that, stronger.
He grunted once and shook his head slightly, eyes never leaving mine. “Babe, a man like me, gets a taste of a woman like you, he ain’t never gonna forget it. And what’s more, he’s gonna want seconds, and thirds, and probably fuckin’ fourths, too. But you took that option away, didn’t you darlin’? Took that sweet ass of yours and ran away like a baby rabbit.”
I swallowed. That night, after I’d refused to exchange names, he’d called me that, saying I reminded him of Jessica Rabbit from Who Framed Roger Rabbit. I suppose taking off in the middle of the night while he slept gave a new meaning to the nickname. I wanted to say something, anything, but my vocal cords were locked tight. He didn’t seem to notice though. His hands came up to rest on the wall behind me, his thick forearms bracketing my head. Moving my hair over my right shoulder, he leaned in closer, running his nose along the curve of my neck before brushing his lips against my ear.
“Three fucking years and no pussy ever felt as tight and hot as yours. I’m starting to think I built it up in my head because no bitch could be that fucking good. But then I see you tonight, and I know, I just fuckin’ know, I wasn’t wrong.”
He pressed forward, our bodies touching from knee to chest and I felt every hard inch of him against my stomach. My brain screamed at me to push him away and demand he take me home, or even order an Uber, but my body, the traitorous bitch, was wet and panting for a taste of what he’d given me three years ago. Because he wasn’t the only one who was beginning to think it was all in their head. I’d played that night over and over in my head a thousand times, measured every man against the leather-clad God I’d built this man up to be, and every single one of them had fallen woefully short.
When his lips trailed across my cheek, and he met my eyes again, the delicate thread of my self-control snapped, and we came together like a rubber band that had been stretched too far. His mouth covered mine in a crushing kiss, it wasn’t civilized, or even sexy. It was raw need in its purest form.
We were teeth and tongues, biting and sucking and searching. Trying to prove to ourselves that we weren’t crazy, that we hadn’t made it all up. It wasn’t fireworks between us. It was an atom bomb detonating, sucking all the air out of our lungs and destroying everything in its wake.
My jacket was yanked down my arms and discarded somewhere at our feet, his big hand reached up and pulled my tank and bra down in one swift move, exposing my aching breasts to the cold night air. I heard something tear, but I couldn’t be bothered to pay it any mind. He palmed my breasts, kneading the heavy flesh and tweaking the silver barbells threaded through my stiff nipples. I moaned into his mouth, my fingers clawing at his neck to bring him closer even though the back of my head was grinding painfully into the cinderblock building. I didn’t give a flying fuck about the physical pain. I needed to quench the ache between my legs, feel him moving inside me again. Everything else was inconsequential.
Picking up on my eagerness, his hands left my breasts and went to work on my pants. He got them unfastened, but they were so tight they wouldn’t budge past my hips. I batted his hands away impatiently and worked them down my thighs as he unbuckled his belt. I’d only gotten the skin-tight jeans halfway down my legs by the time he’d managed to free himself.
My hands froze on my knees and my mouth watered as I stood there, bent over and face to face with his angry erection. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t move, I just stared, watching him palm his heavy cock and stroke himself once, twice, three times.
Reaching out, he caught my arm, pulling me up and spinning me around to face the building in one fluid motion. A heavy hand between my shoulder blades guided me down, so my ass was on full display. My hands automatically shot out and splayed against the wall so I wouldn’t topple over—my palms, already raw from my earlier fall, scraping against the wall.
“Brace, babe,” he growled.
I barely had time to register the words before he was there, at my opening, pulling my thong to the side and pushing home in one brutal thrust. A scream tore past my lips as my body stretched and pulled to accommodate the sudden intrusion. One big hand clamped over my mouth hard, and his other came to rest at my shoulder, using my body for leverage as he relentlessly slammed into me. He was too big, but the pain felt so fucking good.
Hot breath tickled my already flushed skin as he leaned over me, his mouth at my ear once again. “I fuckin’ love it when you try to scream, come on Rabbit, work for it, let me hear how much you fuckin’ want it.”
FUCK.
His words, the broken glass and silk of his voice, his hand clamped over my mouth, his body wrapped around me, and his cock hitting just the right spot every time he pulled out and pushed back in sent me over the edge. I stiffened, my muscles spasming, the sounds of my own muffled screams sending me even higher as I spiraled and convulsed around him.
His rhythm became erratic, and he pulled back and thrust forward so violently my arms gave out, but he was there, his arm moving around my waist, keeping me from face-planting into the wall.
“Fuuuuck,” he groaned as he stilled inside me.
If I’d had the ability to speak, I would’ve returned his sentiment. I was wrong before when I’d imagined how good it was, so fucking wrong.
It was better.
A few quiet seconds passed, the night so silent that our harsh breaths in the darkness sounded like a freight train. Too soon, his grip on me loosened, and I winced at the loss as he pulled out of me.
&
nbsp; I wanted to grab him and tell him to come back, that I needed him, but the logical side of my brain that had been knocked out by lust was starting to wake up.
Without turning around, I shimmied my jeans up and assessed the situation I had going on in the front. The silk cami I wore was a lost cause, one strap torn off, so it hung awkwardly, my left breast completely exposed.
With a sigh, I pulled it up and over my head, tossing it to the ground and adjusting the black lace bralette I was wearing. It was more skin than I liked to show when I wasn’t working, but at least it didn’t make me look like I’d been attacked. Bending down, I scooped up my leather jacket and shrugged it on as I turned to face the man whose name I still didn’t know.
What the hell is wrong with me? Get the guy’s fucking name before you spread your legs for him, it’s not that damn hard.
He leaned against his bike, looking precisely as he had before we’d all but mauled each other.
Lucky son of a bitch.
His posture was relaxed as he watched me, the asshole. What I wouldn’t give to look as put together as he did at that moment. But instead, I stood lamely in front of him, the evidence of the fact that we’d forgotten a condom in my jeans, making the situation even more uncomfortable.
Running a hand through the tangled mess of my hair, I tried to find the words that would make the situation even a smidge less awkward. What did you say to the man who had given you the best orgasms of your life? Nice to meet you, I didn’t quite catch your name, do you have any STDs? None of them seemed appropriate given the current circumstances.