Burning Daylight (A Devil's Cartel MC Series Book 2)

by Skyla Madi

  Ayr cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “Might wanna get them some water, Prez.”

  “Have they been drinking?” I asked and he nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck.

  “Izzy more than Minnie.”

  “You didn’t mention they went to a bar.”

  “They didn’t. They had mimosas at the day spa, then Isabelle made Mai Tais when they got back to her place.”

  Creed sat forward and grabbed Blondie by the face, pulling her close. She lifted her eyebrows and her eyes glistened with devilish excitement.

  “Tell me you weren’t driving?” he said, squeezing her cheeks together, making her lips pout.

  She pulled her face out of his grip. “Ayr and Stoic gave us a ride here, actually. That was fun since Yasmine has never been on a motorcycle.”

  I straightened. Creed did too. Whistling, Stoic elbowed Ayr in the ribs and flicked his head toward the bar. It was best they put as much distance between Creed and I as possible. I had no right to be jealous, but Creed did. Blondie was his bitch—his property. By right, he could kill all three of them for breaking the bylaws and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Creed growled, turning his body in Izzy’s direction.

  “Oh, relax.” She giggled, and Yasmine spluttered, holding off her own. Isabelle cupped Creed’s cheek and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. “It wasn’t safe for me to drive. I had no choice.”

  “Who’d you ride with?”

  “Not telling.” Isabelle grinned and patted Creed’s stubbly cheek before turning her head to Yasmine. “Gin and tonic?”

  My lips kicked up. She had full control over him, and he fucking knew it. Yasmine nodded and Blondie lifted herself out of her seat and bounced toward the bar where Kace worked tirelessly. She slid between Ayr and Stoic, who shifted uncomfortably as her slender biceps rested against theirs. Almost in unison, they inched over, giving her more space. I laughed under my breath. They weren’t dumb. I bet they could feel Creed’s glare burning holes in the backs of their cuts. Isabelle didn’t drink often. I guess I was happy she found someone she could let loose with, even if drinking weren’t what I had in mind when I told her to take Yasmine out. Speaking of which, I shifted my attention to Yasmine, who was playing with a tiny, loose thread at the end of her dress. She tugged on it, making the thread longer. I stretched my legs out and dug into the pocket of my jeans for my lighter. Over the years, I’d made a conscious effort not to smoke, but I may’ve had a couple stress cigarettes waiting for the girls to come back tonight.

  “Come here,” I said, grabbing the armrest of her chair. She gasped as I tugged it toward mine. “You’ll ruin it if you pull on it.”

  I open the lighter’s lid, ran my thumb over the spark wheel, and she flinched as the sparks ignited a flame. I burned the thread and closed the lid, extinguishing the fire.

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling at me.

  I didn’t tell her she was welcome because Creed was staring right fucking at me, like I was an alien, an imposter. If he weren’t here, I’d tell her she looked good. I’d touch her. I’d lift her dress and smooth my hands over her soft skin. Maybe I’d tell her I was low-key worried about her all day. Maybe I’d tell her I hoped she had fun, that she deserved time to herself.

  Yasmine rubbed at her slender elbow and twisted her arm to look at the gauze taped to it. The white gauze was stained with fresh blood and it was the perfect opportunity to get her alone. She cursed and I pushed my chair back, lifting myself out of it.

  “C’mon,” I said, walking around her. “I’ll get you some new dressing.”

  Nodding, she left her chair and followed me out of the main room and into the hall that led to the infirmary.

  “I thought Harlei said you’d be healed by now?” I asked when the thumping sound of Pearl Jam faded enough for her to hear me speak.

  Most of her injuries had healed. Her bruises were a faint yellow I could barely see, and her minor cuts were all scarred up, but there were burns that were still in the process of healing, some deeper cuts too.

  Minnie shrugged. “Some injuries are in trickier places than others, I guess.”

  In the infirmary, Yasmine sat on the edge of the bed while I gathered what I needed to redress her wound. I washed my hands, put on gloves that were much too small for my hands, and I pulled away the old dressing. As I cleaned her wound, she watched my face.

  “You smell good,” she murmured, and I peered at her as I rubbed down the edges of the occlusal bandage. “Like a motorcycle on an open road.”

  The corners of my lips twitched. “How much have you had to drink?”

  She didn’t look drunk. Her eyes weren’t glassy, and her skin wasn’t clammy. If anything, she looked relaxed. There was a calm about her as she gently swung her long legs back and forth.

  “Enough. Not enough. I don’t know.” Yasmine twisted her arm to check out the job I did on her elbow. “Not bad, Mr. President.”

  I laughed as I gathered the rubbish and put it in the bin. I disposed of my gloves and washed my hands, like Harlei always demanded whenever I was in here touching stuff. After drying my hands, I turned around and leaned against the stainless-steel countertop. I wanted Minnie alone, but now I had her, I didn’t know what to do, or what to say.

  “What did you do today?” she asked, taking lead of the conversation.

  I folded my arms across my chest and tilted my head. “Well, I didn’t have half as much fun as you did.”

  She hummed, gifting me a lazy smile. “Yeah. I had a good day.”

  The curve in her lips drew me forward, like a moth to a flame, and her smile only grew the closer I got, until I stepped between her legs. Minnie looked up at me and I placed my hands on her thighs, pushing her dress north.

  “I half-assed all my jobs today because I couldn’t get you out of my head,” I admitted. “You’re all I thought about.”

  Blush bloomed in her cheeks and her eyes glistened with delight. She liked occupying my every thought. She liked being wanted and desired.

  “I thought about you too,” she said, placing her hands atop mine as I reached the fold between her thigh and her hip. “I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop.”

  I craned my neck and grazed her mouth with mine. “Good. I don’t want you to stop.”

  Yasmine lifted her hands and I felt them at my belt. I was hard already, my cock straining against my zipper. I wasn’t used to going this long without. I wasn’t used to craving one woman, but I craved her with every fiber in my being.

  Because I understood her.

  And she understood me.

  She undid my belt, then dragged my zipper down, all while keeping her stare on mine.

  “Is it wrong?” she whispered. “To want to return the favor?”

  I frowned, unsure what she meant until she reached into my jeans and freed my cock. Return the favor. We were on the same page now. I slid my hands to her backside and yanked her forward. Gasping, she wrapped her thighs around my hips.

  “No. It’s best you don’t owe me anything.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, sooner or later, I will collect.” I flexed against her. I was hungry for her, so fucking hungry I couldn’t breathe. “And if it’s later, I won’t be so nice.”

  She licked her palm and slid her wet flesh along the underside of my hard length. My breath hitched and her gold pools flared in delight as she traced every vein with her fingertips.

  “You feel good in my hand.”

  Excitement tore down my spine and built in my pelvis. “Yeah? Try me in your mouth.”

  Yasmine chuckled under her breath, then swallowed the sliver of space between our lips and kissed me hard. I let her control it, let her fuck my mouth with her tongue as she wrapped her fingers around my thick shaft and jerked me off. Over and over she pushed me, pulled me, and slid her skin over mine, drawing more arousal from my body to help her slide. I grunted and groaned, and she re
veled in the noises I made. I’d never come into a woman’s hand before, but Minnie was close to making it happen. I didn’t want to. I wanted to be buried deep inside when I came, but…fuck. I broke the kiss and hung my head back. She swiped her thumb over my tip, collecting slick beads of arousal.

  “Oh, my god. You’re so turned on,” she whispered, spreading it everywhere, making it wetter, making her hand as smooth as velvet. “And that turns me on.”

  She squeezed me between her thighs, and I straightened my head. Her beautiful eyes were hooded and lusty, and I knew exactly what she wanted. I shoved her backward and she caught herself on the palms of her hands with a gasp.

  “Judge—”

  I flicked her dress over her stomach and grabbed my cock. With one hand, I palmed myself, but it didn’t feel half as good. With the other, I brushed my finger along the edge of her black panties, where her thigh met the crease before her pussy started. My skin touched hers and she shuddered, lifting her hips into my touch. I pulled her panties to the side and she stilled. She was so pretty between her legs. And wet. Her arousal glistened on her bare, pink flesh under the warm lights. I touched the wet tip of my cock to the inside of her thigh and pressed my thumb to her clit. Moaning, she lifted her ass off the bed, forcing my thumb down between her creases to where her body opened up.

  “Yes,” she sighed. “I want you. Please.”

  I hummed. This wasn’t the right place to fuck her. The door could open any minute and she’d be bared to whoever crossed the threshold. If that happened, she might never trust me again. No. I had to wrap this up and quick. I cupped her between her sexy legs, rubbing my palm over her clit. Yasmine flexed her hips again, shifting her ass further off the bed to get closer to my cock as I continued to stroke it against her.

  “Damon,” Yasmine pleaded, opening wider. “Please.”

  I clenched my jaw. I was of two minds. I could come on her thigh, call it even, and hoped it satisfied my hunger for her. Or I could put us both out of our misery and bury myself deep inside her. I dragged myself along her inner thigh and she watched as I moved my cock toward her pussy. I pressed my head to her clit and jerked myself against it. Yasmine sucked sharp air between her teeth and her thighs trembled as she lowered her upper body to rest on her elbows. Pressure built in my pelvis, in my fucking balls, and I couldn’t stand it. I’d never been so wound up, so deliriously horny.

  Fuck it.

  I was going to take what was mine to take—what was owed to me since I was busting my ass for her. I was going to take what I’d wanted to take since that night she slept in my bed and pressed her ass against my cock.

  Bang. Yasmine startled, crunching her body into a semi-seated position. I pulled back and strained my ears.

  “Damn it, Justin,” Harlei shouted, her voice muffled behind the door. “Again?”

  Shit. I stuffed my still-hard cock back into my jeans as Yasmine adjusted her underwear and smoothed her dress over her thighs. I was uncomfortable, barely able to get my zipper up, and a snort from Yasmine had me cutting my eyes at her.

  “You have it so easy, don’t you?”

  She shrugged, biting back her smile, and I just managed to get the buckle of my belt sorted when the infirmary doors opened.

  “Go sit over there,” Harlei snapped, pulling her blue hair into a bun on the top of her head.

  Justin, the member she was with, stumbled toward the bed adjacent us. He flopped onto the bed with a groan, oblivious to us staring at him, and my gaze fell to the metal fork sticking out of his chest.

  “Oh, hey, Prez. Hey, Minnie,” Harlei greeted, and we waved as she moved toward the sink to wash her hands. “Is something wrong?”

  I stepped back as Yasmine slipped off the edge of the bed and stood on the floor. “Judge was helping me replace the dressing on my elbow.”

  I looked at Harlei and saw the knowing smirk on her face, but she was smart enough not to comment.

  “What happened to him?” I asked, changing the subject to the man with a fork in his chest.

  I didn’t know him personally, but I knew of him since he paid a ridiculous amount in club fines every quarter.

  “Modo stabbed him above his clavicle with a fork. Idiot is so drunk I don’t think he realizes.” She dried her hands with paper towels and levelled me with her stare. “Mom wants to know why you didn’t eat your dinner, Judge.”

  I rolled my eyes and took Minnie by her elbow. “Tell Pearl I’m a grown ass man and if I don’t want dinner, then I don’t want dinner.”

  I escorted Yasmine to the door and yanked it open.

  “You sure you want me to tell her that?” Harlei called after me, and I paused as Yasmine crossed the threshold and into the hall.

  No, I didn’t want her to tell Pearl that. If she did, I’d be served vegan dishes for the rest of the month. I turned around and gripped the doorframe in one hand and the handle in the other.

  “Just…tell her I’m sorry, will you?”

  Harlei laughed and I closed her cackle inside the infirmary.

  Walking side by side, Yasmine and I strolled down the hall. The music, Mötley Crüe’s Ride With The Devil, grew louder the closer we got to the main room. Before we breached the archway, I turned my body into Yasmine’s and pushed her against the wall. Her nervous breath skittered across my face as I craned my neck to speak in her ear.

  “We’re not finished,” I told her, dragging my stare down the slope of her neck to her chest. I wanted to kiss her there, to lick between her full breasts. “You won’t get away from me tonight.”

  And that was a promise.

  TWELVE

  Y A S M I N E

  My heart races as Judge rests his arm along the back of my chair, his firm forearm pressing against my shoulders. My cells are still in a flurry inside me, every fiber in my being still vibrating in the aftermath of our risqué interaction. I don’t know what came over me—or him—but I won’t forget how he felt in my hand for a long, long time.

  Across the table, Modo talks, his British accent somehow stronger under the influence of alcohol, and everyone around him erupts with laughter. I haven’t heard the sound in so long, and it’s medicine to my sad, sick soul.

  For no reason at all, I peer at James Creed, who relaxes in his chair, his arm around Isabelle, his handsome smile exposing his strong, white teeth. Sensing my attention, Creed flicks his stare to me, then to Judge’s arm along the back of my chair. His full lips quirk at the corner, his dark eyes flashing, and my stomach sinks as heat spreads under the surface of my skin. I avert my gaze to the half empty glass of gin and tonic in front of me.

  “And that’s why I don’t eat corn no more,” Modo adds, earning more laughs.

  I lift my attention to him—the funny British one with the copper beard. His smile reaches his blue eyes and his cheeks look like they could burst any minute with the amount of smiling he’s done. He thrives off the attention and positivity. Making people laugh made him happy. If his skin were translucent, I bet you could see the gold rays of happiness traveling through his veins. Though rough around the edges, Modo is a handsome man. He’s tall and broad shouldered, and as thick as a man should be. Best of all, I can tell he has a big heart. I don’t believe for a second he stabbed that drunk man in the clavicle with a fork.

  A gentle, skittering touch over my shoulder pulls me from my thoughts. I turn my head and look at Judge as he caresses my shoulder with his thumb. His slow, perfect circles causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand up. Speaking of handsome men, whatever is in the Devil Cartel’s water supply needs to be investigated. I’ve never seen such a large group of gorgeous people. I flick my gaze to Judge’s lips as he gently smiles at the conversation and their subtle curve sends my heart bashing through my ribs. It’s genuine. It’s not calculating or cruel and, honestly, I forgot what a real smile on a man looks like.

  It melts me.

  I place a subtle hand on Judge’s thigh and smooth my palm along his huge chunk of muscle, until
the tips of my fingers touch his inner thigh. He glances down at his lap, then meets my eyes, and a million things pass between us.

  I want to go to bed.

  He wants the same.

  But there’s no way we can both leave this table at the same time unless we want everyone in the room to know what we were going to do.

  Sitting forward, Judge reaches into the middle of the table for the tall jug of water and pours the clear liquid into a clean, empty glass. Then he pulls the cup toward me and pushes my gin and tonic away.

  “You’ve been nursing your drink for an hour.” He sits back in his seat and brushes his thumb against me. “Don’t have to drink it.”

  I smile at him, fully aware Creed is still watching, and I pat his thigh. I don’t want to be disrespectful to Isabelle by not drinking my drink, but the alcohol I already drank today has worn off. I’m not in the frame of mind to start again.

  “Thank you.”

  He offers me a smile, his eyes sparkling, then quickly diverts his attention to Casino, who adds his two cents about corn into the conversation. I sip my water, and as the refreshing, cool liquid touches my tongue, someone clears their throat. I swallow and turn my head toward the noise and—oh, god. The blonde woman, wearing a small, strappy black dress, puts her hands on her hips and glares down at me. Isabelle told me her name, but I can’t remember. Whatever her name is, she belongs to Judge. I know he favorites her, that he chooses her over the other women. I remove my hand from his lap and take another sip of my water, wishing Judge would lower his arm from my chair. He doesn’t. He doesn’t stop drawing circles on my skin, either.

  “Are you busy?” she asks him, crossing her arms over her chest, trapping her blonde hair against her bust.

  I grip the edges of my seat and shuffle my chair, moving closer to Hawk, putting an extra inch of space between Judge and me. Finally, he drops his arm from the back of my chair.

  “Excuse me,” Isabelle barks, catching everyone at the table by surprise. “You’re interrupting our conversation.”