by K. A. Ware
I held out my hand to Rigs. “Nice to meet you.”
“Please,” he said, batting away my hand and pulling me into a hug. “Don’t let my boy give you any shit, he needs a woman that’ll kick his ass into gear.”
“I heard that,” Baz complained.
“Good, you little shit,” Rigs said, taking a step back and giving Chains an opportunity to step in.
Much like Rigs, he pulled me into a hug but refrained from doling out advice. “Good to meet you, darlin’.”
“What no hug for me?” I turned around to see blow job guy, the one Baz had referred to as Rooster, standing at my left with his arms wide.
I grinned, finally feeling in my element. I’d cut my bitch teeth on cocky assholes like Rooster. There was nothing better than putting a self-confident fuckboy on notice. “Have you washed your hands?”
“Huh?”
Cocking an eyebrow, I lifted my chin. Whatever I did in this clubhouse reflected on Baz, if I misread the situation he’d have to deal with the aftermath. Maybe it was my way of testing the boundaries, seeing how much of myself I was able to be around these men. Whatever I was trying to prove, I went for it. “I just watched you shove your dick back in your pants. The least you could do is wash your hands, I’m not trying to catch whatever you’ve got.”
If you have the opportunity, always go for the ego, it stings the worst.
There was a half second where I thought I’d made the wrong call, but to my relief, Rigs and Chains busted up laughing and soon the rest of the men that had overheard the exchange joined in.
Rooster gripped at his chest as if I’d just stabbed him. “Damn, Baz, your girl’s got teeth!”
“She’s got your number, ya filthy bastard,” Rigs said, smacking Rooster in the stomach. He grunted a bit, but his smile never fell.
Gunner, the bearded old man they’d been playing cards with, alternated between hacking and laughing from where he still sat at the table.
Chains was the first to sober, clapping Baz on the shoulder. “You mind if we steal our boy for a minute? Club business.”
Smiling, I hooked a thumb over my shoulder to where I’d seen Butter manning the bar. “Of course, I’ll just grab a beer while I wait.”
“You sure? You can wait in my room if you don’t wanna be out here alone with the girls,” Baz said, lowering his voice so only I could hear.
I rolled my eyes at him. “Please, I can handle a couple cut sluts. Go, take care of your business, I’m fine.”
If I wasn’t mistaken, I saw pride in his expression. “Alright, it’ll be a minute, but I’ll try not to take too long.”
“Go, I need a beer anyways,” I said, rising up and planting a soft kiss on his lips.
The grin that spread across his face wasn’t cocky like I was used to, it was genuine. “Yo prospect! Get Finley a beer, and if Jester and Z show send ‘em back, okay?” Baz shouted over my head.
“You got it,” Butter called, gathering a handful of empties off the bar.
“If you need anything, he’ll handle it,” he said, bending down to kiss the top of my head before turning to follow the rest of his brothers down the hall.
I had just sat down at the bar and taken the first sip of the beer Butter had waiting for me when a banshee-like wail broke through the otherwise quiet room.
“Jester!” A blonde woman in skin-tight pleather leggings, a faded Pink Floyd shirt, and leather jacket came charging through the front door. “Where the fuck is he?” she asked, glaring toward the group of girls around the pool table.
I followed her gaze, but they were all looking anywhere but at our new arrival. Butter wasn’t any help either, the woman’s sudden appearance seemed to cause a deer in the headlights reaction from the prospect.
Turning on my stool, I leaned back against the bar and assessed the woman. She didn’t carry herself like any club whore I’d ever met, in fact, there was a confidence in her that said she belonged. Maybe this was Jester’s old lady? “He’s not back yet.”
If throwing attitude at Rooster had been my test for Baz, this was his test for me, even if he wasn’t present to witness it. We hadn’t talked about it, but up until this point, we’d been getting to know one another in our own little bubble. Bringing me to the club and introducing me to his brothers was a big step, but it wouldn’t mean anything if I couldn’t hold my own in his world.
“Who the hell are you?” the woman demanded, her eyes raking up and down my body. I must not have looked like the common club slut either, because instead of sneering, she approached the bar.
“Finley,” I said, holding out my hand.
She eyed me carefully, but took the offered hand. “Harley.”
Ah, the president’s daughter.
The recognition of the name must’ve shown on my face because she barked out a laugh as she took the stool next to mine. “My reputation must precede me. I haven’t seen you around before, you just here to party or did you come with someone?”
“I’m here with Baz,” I offered.
“Shit, you’re the redhead. I should’ve known. Where is that fucker?” she asked, looking around.
I barked out a laugh, I’d forgotten how much bikers gossiped. They were worse than a bunch of old biddies. “He’s talking with your dad and the other guys. Jester and Z haven’t come back yet, though. You want a beer while you wait?”
“I can’t, that’s why I’m here. That jackass had a fucking breathalyzer put in my car! I didn’t even know you could get those without a court order,” she grumbled.
“Damn. I heard about the accident, maybe it’s for the best?” I winced as soon as the words fell from my mouth. I didn’t know this woman from Adam, yet I couldn’t rein in my mothering instincts.
Leaning an elbow on the bar, she rested her head in her hand and took me in. “You’re probably right, I’ve been known to make some less than desirable choices—but don’t tell Jester that. I’m still going to kick his ass for going behind my back. He’s not my fucking father.”
I grinned at that. Harley was my kind of girl, she wasn’t afraid to buck the system. “And you thought 3 a.m. was a good time to hash it out?”
She shrugged. “I went to pick up my car last night after they left. He hasn’t been answering my calls or texts so I figured I’d catch him when he got back with the rest of the boys.”
“So you’re together?” I asked, hoping like hell she’d be able to provide some much-needed insight. Being a biker princess was one thing, but from experience, I knew there was still a lot even the president’s daughter was kept in the dark about.
Her eyes bugged out and her lip curled in disgust. “Fuck, no. He can take that STD riddled cock of his and shove it up his own ass. I wouldn’t be Jester’s old lady if he was the last man on fucking earth.”
“Wasn’t asking, but good to know where you stand, princess.”
We both looked up to see Jester and Z standing just beyond the doorway. I had barely registered their presence when Harley flew off her stool and straight for the stony giant.
“Don’t fucking princess me, you cocksucker! How dare you have Risa put a breathalyzer in my damn car! You had no right!”
“Excuse the fuck outta me for not wanting you to fuckin’ kill yourself, or worse, someone else!” he roared back, getting right in her face. Either he was about to snap her neck, or they were into some seriously twisted foreplay.
He mumbled something else, but I was too far away to catch it. Whatever he’d said must’ve been bad because quicker than I thought possible, Harley’s hand came up and collided with Jester’s cheek with an audible smack.
“Fucking bastard. I’m not yours to worry about, Connor!”
Her use of what I assumed was his real name seemed to set him off. His jaw ticked and his nostrils flared as he stared at her for a solid ten seconds before springing into action. One second she was nose to nose with him spitting venom and the next he’d dipped down and thrown her over his shoulder. She let out another banshee-like s
cream and pounded viciously on his back.
“If we’re gonna have this fuckin’ conversation we’re gonna do it in private,” he shouted over the top of her screeching as he carried her off down the hallway.
A door slammed loudly somewhere down the hall and Harley’s screaming was suddenly silenced. “Should we be worried about that?” I asked turning to Z whose eyes were still locked on the mouth of the hallway.
He shook his head as if he was clearing his thoughts. “I’d be more concerned about what she’s gonna do to him than the other way around.”
“No shit,” Butter mumbled, sliding a fresh beer toward Z. “Baz said for you to meet him in the chapel, Jester too, but…”
“It’s fine, I’ll catch him up later,” he said, snatching up the beer and disappearing into the hallway without another word.
“Well that was interesting,” I said, turning back to Butter.
“He’s not going to hurt her, if that’s what you’re worried about. Harley’s a pain in the ass, but Jester isn’t like that, none of the guys are,” he said quietly, popping the top off a beer for himself.
“Thanks for the reassurance, but I was more worried about the fact that it looks like Jester’s in love with the president’s daughter.”
Butter choked mid-drink, dribbling beer all down the front of his gray T-shirt. “Jester’s what?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but from the looks of what just happened, yeah, it seems likely.”
Butter’s eyes drifted upwards. “Christ, that’s not gonna end well.”
I didn’t respond and we spent the next few minutes finishing our beers in silence. The sounds of men talking and laughing filtered into the room just before they emerged from the hallway.
Catching Baz’s eye, I brought my beer to my lips and downed the rest of it in one gulp. As much as Butter was starting to grow on me, I was ready for some new company.
“You survived,” Baz said, coming to lean against the bar beside me.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Did you doubt me?”
“Not for a second.”
“Good, now let’s go get you cleaned up,” I said, slipping off the stool and taking his hand.
Seventeen
FINLEY
Baz led me down the L-shaped hallway, to the last door on the right. His room was exactly as I’d remembered it; a pile of dirty clothes in the corner, loose change and crumpled receipts on the dresser, and a bottle of tequila on the nightstand.
“Where’s the first-aid kit?” I asked, heading for the attached bathroom.
“Under the sink.”
I snorted when I looked inside the cupboard. Aside from a single roll of toilet paper, the first-aid kit was the only thing in the cabinet.
Opening the kit, I balanced it on the sink, riffling through the contents. “You don’t think you need any butterfly bandages, do you?” I called out, expecting Baz to be in the other room.
“No, I think I’m good.”
I jumped when his answer came from directly behind me, sending a box of bandages flying through the air. “Fucking hell!”
He laughed and bent to help pick up the scattered Band-Aids, but I didn’t miss the way his eyes got tight with the movement. “Sit,” I said, moving around him and pointing to the closed toilet seat.
Listening to instruction for once, he did as I asked, but not before giving me a swat on the ass as he passed. “I like it when you’re bossy.”
“You just like to argue.”
“That too,” he said. Shucking off his leather jacket and cut, he carefully folded both neatly over the towel rack.
He was wearing his uniform of a plain white T-shirt and jeans with black boots, but this time the usually pristine white shirt was dirty with dust and grime. What stood out most though, was the rust-colored splatter that ran up the center of his chest—the part of his shirt that would’ve been exposed if his jacket wasn’t zipped up like it had been when he’d picked me up. There was no denying it was blood, and I’d venture to guess it wasn’t his.
Catching my gaze, Baz looked down at himself. Seeing what I saw, he bit out a curse and rubbed his hand over his buzzed head.
I could’ve said something, put him out of his misery and just told him I didn’t care, because honestly, I didn’t. Whoever had earned Baz’s wrath, probably deserved it. But I bit my tongue and waited to see how he’d handle the situation.
Resting his forearms on his knees, he sighed and looked up at me. “How do you want to play this?”
Whatever I was expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. “What do you mean?”
Reaching out, he took my hand and placed a kiss on my knuckles. “This. Us and the club. How much do you want to know?”
I didn’t answer right away, giving myself a moment to actually think about the question. Living in the dark would be torture and knowing too much might change the way I saw him, there wasn’t really a right answer.
“I want to know what you want to tell me.”
His eyes narrowed in confusion. “Not exactly sure what that means, babe.”
Squeezing his hand, I smiled. “It means I’m not going to push you for details. If you want to talk about something, we can talk about it, if not, then we don’t. All I ask is that when you do tell me something, it’s the truth.”
“You lost me again.”
I sighed, my gaze wandering to the tiny stall-like shower that took up the length of the far wall. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not an idiot. I can connect the dots. If you can’t or don’t want to tell me something, you don’t have to lie, just say it’s club business. That simple.”
“You’re perfect, you know that?” he said, hooking a finger into the belt loop of my jeans and tugging me toward him.
“I’m far from perfect,” I said, shaking my head. He was too fucking much, the way he looked at me with those green eyes made my stomach flutter every damn time.
Sliding to his knees, he bunched up my hoodie, kissing the line of flesh just above my waistband. “Fucking. Perfect. Beautiful,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss.
“Are you going to let me clean you up or not?”
“Later,” he mumbled against my skin as his fingers worked the button fly of my jeans.
“Baz, you’re hurt.” I tried to push his hands away, but he was too strong, and honestly, I didn’t want to stop him that bad.
He looked up at me while he yanked my jeans and underwear down my legs. “I ain’t dead. I can still make my woman come.”
Toeing off my shoes, I glared down at him, biting back the urge to throw some much-deserved attitude his way.
“You can be on top later if it’ll make you feel better,” he offered, flashing that grin that always seemed to get to me.
“How generous of you.”
Lifting one foot and then the other, I watched Baz strip me from the waist down. I had to squeeze my thighs together at the sight of Baz on his knees before me, the way he looked up at me with that hooded gaze will forever be scorched into my brain.
He ran a palm up the outside of my leg, over my thigh and hip to rest just below my navel. Slowly, fucking torturously slowly, he stroked me with his thumb, lowering just a fraction closer to where I needed him with each pass.
His thumb continued to stroke me as he bent his head and placed an open mouth kiss on the inside of my bare knee. I let out an involuntary shiver as he trailed his tongue up the sensitive skin toward the apex of my thighs. My pussy clenched in anticipation as his hot breath ghosted across my damp skin.
“Been dyin’ to taste you, babe,” he growled, hooking one of my legs over his shoulder.
“What are you waiting for?” I asked, bracing my hands on the sink behind me. My eyes never wavered from the infuriating man who could drive me to the brink of insanity one minute and complete ecstasy the next.
His answering grin had me wanting to throw him on the floor and ride his face until I came. Thankfully, Baz wasn’t in a teasing mood because
he didn’t waste time. The first touch of his tongue against my tender flesh lit a fire inside me that roared into an inferno when his teeth grazed my clit.
“Fuck, that’s good,” I bit out on a groan, my head falling back against the mirror.
Baz wasn’t gentle in the way he devoured me, using his sharp teeth and then soothing away the sting with his tongue. The combination of pain and pleasure was like Baz’s signature, and my body responded to it, to him, automatically, surrendering to the onslaught of sensation.
With my eyes closed, I couldn’t anticipate his next move so when he dipped a thick finger inside. I stiffened with the unexpected intrusion before melting into his touch. My hips bucked when he added a second finger, and I ground myself against his hand, wanting and needing more to push me over the edge.
His fingers retreated, and I whimpered at the loss, my eyes squeezed tight as I reached for my orgasm. Latching onto my clit, Baz sucked and flicked at the little bundle of nerves while his fingers, still slick with my wetness, traveled further to stroke my rear entrance. My eyes flew open when the tip of his finger breached the tight ring of flesh.
Gasping at the pressure, I looked down to see Baz staring at my face, watching my reaction like it was the most captivating thing he’d ever seen. He didn’t stop his attack on my clit as he slowly pumped the digit, stretching me in a way that had my eyes rolling into the back of my head. The combination of his mouth and finger working in tandem sent a deliciously dark sensation ripping through my body.
“Fuck!” I screamed, my muscles locking up as the orgasm I’d been chasing came crashing down around me. Baz continued to lap at my pussy as I rode out the aftershocks of pleasure.
Lowering my leg, Baz got to his feet, his arms caging me in against the sink. Trailing a series of soft kisses along my jaw, he captured my earlobe between his teeth. My core clenched, already begging for more despite my knees still being weak from my orgasm.
“Not tonight, because I’ll admit I’m sore as fuck, but soon, I’m gonna lay you out and take you every way I fuckin’ can. Had this fantasy playin’ in my head for years, want to see if it lives up to my imagination.” His gruff voice in my ear sent a jolt of electricity down my spine.