Reckless Road

by Christine Feehan

  “Don’t stop. Swallow. Swallow me down. Take it now, baby. All of it. Every fucking drop.” His hands went to her head, fisted in her hair as his cock swelled and swelled beyond anything he’d known. His cock began to jerk hard, over and over, erupting like a volcano, his seed boiling up like hot lava, exploding down her throat, long deep pulses, ejecting ropes of his hot seed. The pleasure bordered on pain but was a kind of ecstasy/euphoria he’d never known.

  He managed to get into his brain enough to realize she needed air, and he pulled back a scant inch or two to allow her to breathe, but his cock was still pulsing and he didn’t have the strength to leave the warmth of her mouth. His shaft lay heavy on her tongue as they both gasped, trying to drag air into their lungs.

  He felt her tongue curl around his cock. Gently. Her hips moved restlessly. Her fingers slid down to her pussy and curled inside again.

  “Don’t, baby. Wait for me to take care of you. Just give me a minute.” He could barely stand, let alone get to the other side of the bed. And she needed water for her throat. He hadn’t been gentle. He was still dizzy, unable to process what she’d done for him.

  Zyah smiled, right around his cock. She shook her head. “Uh-uh.” The vibration went right through his cock. This was my gift to you. When you can find your strength, go to the hot tub. I’ll follow in a few minutes. You’re not taking this away from me. We have all night to make love together.

  “Then I’m going to watch.”

  Her eyes smiled at him. Her tongue leisurely bathed his cock while her fingers moved in her pussy and her hips rose and fell. Her tits swayed, drawing his attention. She was so incredibly sexy. Then his cock was free and her mouth was open and she made a soft little sound as a soft flush rushed over her body. His woman. Sexy as hell.

  He managed to find his legs and get her a bottle of water. By the time he returned to the bed, she was sitting on the edge. He sat down next to her. Close. She drank the water slowly.

  “Why did you do that for me? I feel as if that was very selfish on my part. And I was rough with you. Too rough.”

  She put her hand on his jaw so gently it turned his heart over. I could have stopped you at any time. You needed it. You needed to be taken far away from where you were. And you needed to know that someone loves you that much, Player. I love you. I want to give you things no one else will give you without expecting anything back. It’s my right to do that.

  He could barely breathe with his love for her. He hadn’t known he was capable of emotion so overwhelming, so deep, that just looking at her could hurt. He looked at her for the longest time, unable to speak.

  Honey, go to the hot tub. I’ll be right there.

  She tipped more water down her throat, and he looked away from her, worried she would see too much. The burning behind his eyes was unfamiliar. The lump in his throat. The way his heart hurt so fucking bad he didn’t know if he could stand up without having a heart attack.

  “Yeah. I’ll get us some towels and lay them out for us. I keep towels for the pool and hot tub in the closet by the door.” His voice didn’t sound like his own. He managed to get to his feet and take a couple of steps from her, but he couldn’t just walk away. He turned back to look at her. He just stood there like an idiot, his heart beating too fast.

  “I don’t know what I would have done if you had walked away from me, Zyah. I know I never would have loved any other woman. I’ve never looked at another woman. Or wanted another woman. There’s only been you. That’s the fucking truth. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. Not physically and not emotionally. If I do, by some stupid mistake, please give me the chance to make up for it. Tell me straight up what I’ve done and let me fix it. Losing you would be like . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. What could he say?

  He turned and walked away from her before he made more of a fool out of himself. Why hadn’t he taken more care with her? He rubbed at the shadow on his jaw. He’d never been like that before, so out of control. His mind turned the puzzle over and over. One moment he’d been upset, and the next all he’d been thinking about was sex. Not just sex. Wild, uninhibited, mindless, selfish, crazy sex.

  He padded through the house to the opposite end, where the indoor heated saltwater swimming pool and hot tub were located. Just the brush of her mind against his set his nerve endings on fire. He unlocked the door to the spa room using his fingerprint and stepped inside.

  Soft laughter flooded his mind. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.

  He felt that small stroke of her mind against his throughout his body, so much so that even though his cock was so thoroughly sated, it still stirred. He felt a spark of electricity dance along his thighs, travel up his balls to his groin and spread heat.

  He realized Zyah had subtly fed his craving for her, weaving her fantasy for him. Then she’d driven his desire higher and higher. She had skillfully blended their lust together until the combined woven hunger raged into a dark, out-of-control, erotic raging fire.

  Player laid out the towels and then, restless, dove into the pool, starting laps. The saltwater pool appealed to him, and along with the amazing craftsmanship the builder had displayed in every aspect from floors to cabinets, it had been a huge selling point. Everything about his house had appealed to him, but now, with Zyah in it, the house felt like a home.

  He contemplated the idea of a home as he cut through the water with long, powerful strokes. All the members of Torpedo Ink gravitated toward Czar and Blythe’s house for that feeling. Blythe represented home to them. Not the clubhouse. Blythe was their center. They all knew she was. Czar led them, but Blythe was their heart. She had taught them what a home was supposed to feel like and, really, what love was.

  They gathered on weekends for breakfast or lunch or dinner. Loud, noisy barbecues that sometimes lasted most of the day, the children running around making them all laugh. Making them a part of a world they hadn’t known before. Blythe accepted them. She’d been the first person to give them acceptance. They hadn’t realized anyone outside of Torpedo Ink could do that—see them and invite them into their life with such complete lack of bias.

  Czar had led them to Blythe. Blythe accepted them, and she took in the children others threw away. Children they brought to her knowing she would love what others didn’t. They had come to believe in her the way they did Czar. Player realized it was because of that belief the club members had been able to accept Anya, Reaper’s woman, into their lives. She had come first. Loving Reaper. Who knew that one of the scariest and damaged among them would find a woman who would take him as he was? Anya had managed to make their house overlooking the ocean, the one Reaper had bought just so he could defend and easily escape, into an inviting home.

  Then there was Breezy. They all had known Breezy from before, when they rode with Swords, undercover, determined to bring down a human trafficking ring. Steele’s Breezy. She was easy to accept. Player considered Breezy’s home. Of course, Steele had bought the mansion and had kept it practically sterile. Breezy had turned it into a home filled with laughter and love.

  Ice had married Soleil in Vegas, a woman wealthy enough to have whatever she wanted in life, but she had eyes only for her man. She took cooking lessons so she could do the cooking, not have a chef. She loved to paint, and she was damn good. Ice was a jeweler, and together they designed beautiful artwork, but she was mostly devoted to her home—and always to Ice. Everything was about Ice. She’d created a home for him.

  Absinthe had found Scarlet, a woman who looked the part of demure librarian but who could turn into a sex kitten or a kick-ass assassin at the blink of an eye. Scarlet had virtually transformed their home, removing any triggers that might throw Absinthe into the past. They were never far from each other, and the few times Player had been to their home, it had always felt warm and welcoming.

  He’d recognized that characteristic in Anat’s home immediately. He’d woken that
first night with pain crashing through his head and Zyah’s voice whispering to him soothingly. He’d inhaled her scent, breathing her in, taking her into his lungs. He’d been in her bedroom, and she was everywhere, surrounding him. He’d felt like he was home. From that moment on, he’d known, just as he had the first time he’d laid eyes on her, that his world was about this woman.

  Home wasn’t about the structure they lived in. Not the houses they bought. Not for any of them. Home was about the women in their lives. Home for him was Zyah. It always would be. It wouldn’t matter where they were, only that they were together.

  He swam to the stairs and looked up. She was already there waiting for him, her dark hair piled on her head. She didn’t have a stitch on.

  “Come get in the hot tub with me. I want to feel the jets on my body.” Her voice was husky, and the way she issued the invitation sounded like sin.

  Player went to her immediately, removing the lid so that the steam rose. He took her hand to help her in. She settled into one of the deeper seats with a little sigh of happiness. He chose the one opposite her, wanting to see every expression on her face as he turned on the various jets so they would come at her body from all directions.

  She gave another sigh and deliberately widened her legs so the bubbles would be directed straight to her pussy. “That feels amazing.”

  That was another thing about Zyah he loved. She wasn’t in the least bit inhibited or embarrassed when it came to her sexuality. Watching her gave him tremendous pleasure. She always seemed to live in the moment, just enjoying whatever was given to her.

  “I want to talk about what happened, baby,” he said, moving his own body so that the jets could play over his groin, bathing his cock in the sensation of hundreds of tongues.

  Zyah’s lashes lifted for a moment, her gaze moving over him and then dropping to watch his hand as he casually fisted his cock beneath the water. “I’m listening, although I have to say, I had no idea hot tubs could be so sinfully distracting.”

  Player chose his words very carefully. “You gave me the greatest gift today that a woman could give a man like me. I’ll treasure it, Zyah, and never forget it.”

  The bubbles from the jets fizzed around his body, reminding him of the way her tongue had stroked over his skin. He did his best to shove down the memory and keep his cock under control, but there was so much steel in it he couldn’t help a lazy slide of his hand as the bubbles gave the sensation of her mouth devouring him.

  “The thing is, that was too dangerous to repeat. I was too rough with you. I didn’t know what I was doing half the time. What you were doing felt so good, baby, and I was too far gone. I could have really hurt you. I’m not willing to take a chance like that with you.”

  Zyah’s dark eyes moved over him. “You knew what you were doing. And I knew what I was doing. When I needed to stop for a minute, you stopped.”

  He had. True. But it could have gone either way. “I hesitated. You have no idea how close it was. I didn’t want to stop. I knew you could take more. I knew you could hold your breath longer. I even reminded you. I remember that much. I was that far gone, Zyah, and that should tell you something right there.”

  He hadn’t wanted to stop. Just talking about that moment where her mouth, her throat, had constricted his cock to the point of paradise and her eyes, all liquid for him, had looked up at him sent fire crashing through his body all over again. His cock jerked and pulsed with the memory.

  “It tells me that you stopped and checked to make certain I was all right. You offered to stop. It wasn’t just you, Player, it was me. I was feeding your emotions just as you were feeding mine. I wanted what happened. I took us there. I don’t want you to feel guilty about it.”

  “You have a sore throat. Your voice is husky.”

  Zyah didn’t deny it. “And hopefully, tonight, when we get really crazy in bed, I’ll be deliciously sore other places as well.”

  Player lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. She had to see him. Hear him. Understand what he was saying. “I’m not like that, Zyah. I’m not that man. I’m not a selfish bastard who takes his own pleasure and doesn’t give a damn about his woman. In that moment I was thinking about myself, how I was feeling, my body, not you or your pleasure.”

  “No, Player, you weren’t. You were very cognizant of me the entire time. More than I wanted you to be. That just proved to me more than ever that we were meant for each other.” Zyah sound very complacent, even a little amused. “You were supposed to be wholly consumed with your own pleasure, that was the point, but you definitely were worried about me, and you liked how I looked all laid out in front of you.”

  That much was true. She’d looked so sinfully sexy laid out like an erotic offering. He’d never seen anything so sexy as her lips stretched so wide around his cock, or the way it had appeared like a monster in her throat. He had wrapped his palm around her throat to feel the way he invaded, the way she took him. Just the reminder had flames rushing through his veins.

  “It’s going to be one of those days, baby. I’m going to need you to stand up and bend over the side of the tub for me.”

  She raised an eyebrow as he rose. “Now?” Deliberately she didn’t move as he took the two steps to get to her.

  “Right now.” He reached for the mass of hair on top of her head.

  Laughing, she rose from the water so it poured off of her. He caught her up, spun her around and pressed her body so it draped over the marble railing. Her breasts hung over the sides, dripping. His foot pushed her legs wider while his hand ensured she was slick and ready for him. She was. Hot. She pressed back with her bottom to entice him.

  The sight of her naked body draped over the marble caught at him. She had the most beautiful ass. Everything about her was perfection to him. He loved her shape. Every curve. Her coloring. Her sense of fun. Every damn thing.

  His cock jerked hard when she pushed her ass close and rubbed. He swatted her hard and laughed when she yelped and tried to turn her head. It was too late—he was slamming home, driving himself deep, letting the fire consume them both. He’d been sated earlier, so this time he was going to be able to hold out, take more time, feel the burn for a long, long time and give her multiple orgasms. Many, many. He had plans for the day. She didn’t get many of them off, and she deserved to have the best day he could give her.

  NINETEEN

  Czar stood for a long time studying from every angle the drawing Anat’s husband had given her as an anniversary present. Player had hung it on the wall of the large shed farthest from his house. He’d kept the lighting bright throughout the shed, even spotlighting the drawing. He didn’t want to take any chances that if the visitor appeared—and at some point, he wanted to draw him out—the man would be able to see enough to identify where they were. Already, Player feared he could find Zyah.

  Czar wasn’t the only member of Torpedo Ink present. Savage, Ink, Storm, Maestro and Mechanic were there as well. Player, like the others, wasn’t happy that the president of their club had insisted he come. No one knew what they were dealing with, so they didn’t want to risk Czar, Lana or Alena or any of the married men. Czar and Steele were deemed by the club far too valuable, although had they known the others had secretly met and had tried to keep them away, they would have been furious.

  “No matter how I look at this thing, Player, I don’t see anything but a very beautiful and complicated drawing.” Czar turned to the others. “Any of you see anything different?”

  Savage had draped himself by the door, but his gaze was fixed on the picture. He always looked casual and very relaxed. No one who knew him ever bought that pose. He was completely focused, ready to protect Czar should any threat suddenly come to him.

  Player was grateful no one thought he was insane. They hadn’t witnessed him putting the bomb together, nor had they seen the eyes watching from the center of the drawing, but they didn’t
question him. Maestro and Anat had heard the ticking of the clock, but that was the only real proof Player had to back his story, and it was thin. Zyah had added her testimony to his, handing her notes over to Czar, as well as her sketches, hoping Czar might identify the man from their past. He hadn’t been able to.

  “Sorry, Player,” Savage said.

  One by one, the others all studied the drawing just as thoroughly as Czar had. No one was able to see what was so clear to Player. It was frustrating.

  Zyah fished around in her purse and pulled out a small box. Carefully she opened it and unwrapped a monocle, using almost a reverent touch. “Try this, Czar, but please be very careful. It means a great deal to my grandmother. It was my grandfather’s, and he wore it all the time when he was working on this drawing.”

  Player had no idea she had asked Anat to borrow it. Instinctively, he knew Zyah would never have taken it from the house without permission. Her hand shook just a little as she handed it off to Czar. Clearly, she’d even asked Anat a few questions about the monocle.

  Czar stood in front of the drawing and fitted the eyepiece over his right eye. His swift intake of breath was audible. “That fucker. What an anniversary present to give his wife. He put plans for a bomb in a drawing for her. First-class asshole.”

  Player glanced at Zyah’s stricken expression. “Czar.”

  Czar followed his gaze. “Sorry, Zyah.” Clearly, his anger hadn’t been expelled, because he swore in his native language. What kind of man does that to his woman?