Guts & Glory: Hunter (In the Shadows Security Book 3)

by Jeanne St. James

  She wanted to complain but didn’t when he shoved her skirt up to her hips and yanked down her damp panties. Once they were past her thighs, they dropped on their own to circle her ankles.

  The warm night air swept along her bare ass, followed by his hand smoothing over her skin, one hand reaching around and finding how wet her pussy was. Evidence of how this man turned her on. Evidence of how he could talk her into anything. Including sex on her back porch where anyone could see them if they were looking hard enough.

  She didn’t care.

  She only cared about what he was doing to her, which was sliding his fingers back and forth between her slick folds, teasing her clit, then dipping one finger inside of her, but only for a second. He did this same move again and again until she was going out of her mind. He was driving her to the brink already.

  “Hunter,” she whimpered.

  Then his mouth was there, against her ear, his chest against her back, his thumb strumming her clit, making her hips twitch against him. “What do you want, baby?”

  Baby.

  That’s what she wanted. She wanted for him to call her baby. She wanted to hear him call her that every morning when she woke up. Every night before she went to bed. She wanted to be his. She wanted him to be hers.

  Instead, she said, “I want to come.”

  “Then come.”

  She was so wet, his two fingers slipped easily inside her while he ground his thumb against her. And within seconds, her knees begin to buckle as the waves of an orgasm swept through her.

  “Is that all you want?” came his raw question directly into her ear. She shuddered again.

  “No.”

  He shifted until his mouth was against her neck and he nibbled the length of it until he reached the now loose collar of her blouse. “Step out of your panties and spread your legs, baby.”

  She kicked her panties away and planted her bare feet wider on the concrete porch, the night air now tickling along her drenched pussy. His fingers, slick with her juices appeared in front of her face.

  “I know how good you taste, baby, but do you? Tongue out.”

  Yes. Whatever he wanted from her. The answer was yes.

  Opening her mouth wide, she stuck out her tongue and he drew his fingers over it.

  “Fuck, Frankie,” he groaned against her neck.

  When he was done wiping his fingers clean, he said, “Now you know what I’ll never forget. I’ll always remember what you taste like, Frankie.”

  Holy shit. Her eyes rolled back at his words and her legs began to shake.

  His body shifted against hers and she heard his buckle, his zipper, the whisper of fabric as he dropped his pants and boxers down. “Hips out, baby.”

  She pushed them out and he grabbed her hips and began to slide his erection along the crease of her ass. The skin of his cock felt like hot velvet, brushing across her anus, his sac soft as he pressed against her ass.

  “What do you want, Frankie?”

  “You.”

  “Where?”

  “Anywhere you want to be.” And that was true. She’d accept him anywhere. She just wanted him, however he wanted to give himself to her.

  He plucked his wallet from her hand, which was still pressed to the wood siding, and after a few seconds, heard it drop to the ground. Her pussy clenched as the tearing of a condom wrapper was the only sound besides their rapid breathing.

  He shifted, shifted again. Then the head of his cock was drawn with excruciating slowness from the top of her ass crack and down, down, down until it pressed her clit. Then he guided it back up, tucking the crown between her folds.

  “What do you want, Frankie?”

  Using her palms against the side of the house, she pushed back and impaled herself on him, her eyes fluttering closed as he filled her, taking his whole length. The backs of her thighs pressed against his, his fingers digging into the flesh at her hips. A long, ragged hiss slipped from him.

  He kept his hips still as he grabbed both of her wrists, stacked them together, and pinned them to the wall with one hand. With the other, he circled her throat, his thumb stroking her skin, then slid it down her chest, over her bra, down her belly over her shirt, over the gathered fabric of her skirt until he found her most sensitive area and pinched her gently.

  She gasped and twitched against him as his cock flexed deep inside her. He slid almost all the way out and when he drove up, he pinched her again, harder this time.

  She began to see spots behind her closed eyelids as he did the same thing again and again.

  She wanted to beg him to stop because it was too much, but she also was afraid he would stop and she wanted more.

  His cheek was pinned to the side of her head, his breathing harsh, each thrust accompanied with a low grunt that drove her mad.

  When she climaxed, he cupped her mound, spread two fingers in a V and slid them until they bracketed his own cock and separated her swollen lips. His thumb circled her clit which was now so sensitive it was almost painful. But she didn’t tell him to stop. She wanted more.

  He was pounding her so hard, his hips slapped against her ass and she lost herself in the sound of it, along with his breath in her ear, and the sound of him sliding in and out of her wetness. Her juices were trickling down her inner thighs when he groaned, “So fucking wet, baby. So wet for me. You were made for me, Frankie.”

  Then stay whispered through her.

  “Make me so fucking hard, baby. You’re perfect.”

  Then don’t go.

  “Come for me one last time.”

  One last time...

  She was a fool to have denied him these last three weeks. She shouldn’t have denied herself the pleasure he brought her. All because she was falling in love with him.

  Hell, too late.

  She wasn’t falling. She landed hard.

  It was foolish, but true.

  She could have had him every night. Gave herself more memories to hold onto.

  But memories didn’t keep one warm at night. They didn’t keep one from being lonely. They did not ease the pain.

  “Hunter,” she whispered, her voice catching from both emotions and pleasure. A mix that made her heart ache.

  “What do you need, baby?”

  You. “I want to face you when I come.”

  He stilled and Frankie waited a few heartbeats. Did he not want to face her? Was there a reason he had her pinned to the side of the house, facing away from him? Was he worried she’d see something he was trying to hide?

  Would he deny her request?

  He released her wrists and he pulled out, turned her around, grabbed her ass and growled, “Arms around my neck.”

  She looped her arms around his neck and gasped in surprise when he lifted her weight, shoved her back into the siding, saying, “Legs around me, hold on.”

  She hooked her legs around his hips and in one thrust he was back inside her, his chest pinning her to the wall, his hands gripping her ass, and he drove up again, using his powerful thighs. He kissed her hard, grabbed her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged before pressing his forehead against hers.

  Though it was hard to focus, their eyes remained open and locked, their mouths parted as he pounded the breath out of both of them.

  Her ass would have bruises, her pussy would be sore and her heart would be broken tomorrow. But she was thankful to have this moment.

  And when they came together, she told him I love you silently. Letting the words she didn’t say out loud be expressed in her eyes instead.

  Because she wanted him to know he meant something to her. Not just a protector. Much more than that.

  He stilled and answered, “I’m sorry.” Regret colored his apology. “I’m sorry I can’t be who you want me to be. I told you before and I’ll tell you again, if it could be anyone, it would be you, Frankie.”

  She buried her teeth into her bottom lip, hoping the pain would keep her from crying. She nodded because she didn’t trust herself
to answer.

  He was beginning to soften inside her and soon they’d need to separate. But he made no move to do so.

  He ran his nose along hers, kissed one eyelid, then the other, and brushed his lips lightly across hers. “I wish you hadn’t shut me out these last three weeks.”

  She already regretted that decision. She couldn’t fix that now.

  One day she’d learn to make better decisions. Today was not that day when she whispered, “I love you, Hunter.”

  He slipped out of her, letting her feet reach the floor, then peeled her arms from around his neck, his eyes avoiding hers. He pulled the condom off, knotted the end and after hitching up his pants and boxers, dropped it in the large lidded trashcan sitting at the edge of the porch. He remained with his back to her as he finished fastening his pants and adjusting his clothes.

  Then he said over his shoulder, “Bag’s in the car already. It’s late. I need to hit the road.”

  The thickness in his voice made her own throat tighten and her eyes burn.

  She wished things could be different, she understood why they couldn’t. But that didn’t make this any easier.

  Especially when he paused only to say, “Tell Leo goodbye for me.” Then he disappeared around the corner of the house into the dark.

  She didn’t call him every night like he wanted. And he didn’t call her, either.

  Frankie thought that was for the best.

  She figured Hunter did, too.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hunter set his cigar in the ashtray by his barely-touched beer and studied how the smoke rose in a swirl. One overhead halogen bulb lit up the corner where they had set up the card table and folding metal chairs. Their voices echoed through the enormous, high-ceilinged warehouse which was home base for In the Shadows Security.

  Where they worked. Sometimes where they played.

  His head turned as he remembered Mercy “playing” with Squirrel, a fucknut former prospect of the Dirty Angels MC who had turned to the dark side and joined the Shadow Warriors. The squirrel dick also violated Crow’s woman, Jazz, and injured Hawk’s ol’ lady, Kiki. So for that, he paid with his life.

  But Mercy didn’t make it easy for him. Squirrel suffered as much, if not more, than the women had.

  Hunter stared at the spot for another moment, even though no evidence of that activity remained because Mercy, like the rest of them, knew how to dispatch a piece of shit like Squirrel and not leave a trace behind.

  Unfortunately, one Shadow Warrior still remained at large that they knew of and his name was Taz.

  Slade’s half-brother. Leo’s sperm donor.

  Frankie’s former lover.

  Hunter was also in that last category.

  Before he left Manning Grove, he had insisted she call him every night. She hadn’t and he decided not to push it. Instead, he checked in with one of Manning Grove’s finest every few days, just to make sure things were quiet and Frankie was doing okay.

  They were and she was, Matt Bryson would tell him.

  The cop seemed to get what Hunter was after. Almost as if he’d been through something similar. The man was a former Marine who saw action, so he probably had some of his own ghosts haunting him.

  Hunter let his gaze slide around the table to the rest of his crew, who all carried ghosts of their own.

  While they were each broken in some way, none of them talked about it. They just accepted the fact they were all fucked up in some manner and ignored it. Unless it affected a job or their safety. Which, thank fuck, it normally didn’t.

  All of them coped with one or more demons buried deep inside them.

  However, Mercy and Ryder were two, out of the six of them, who had found women who fit them perfectly and could deal with the monkeys clinging to their backs. Parris aka Rissa, a professional therapist who could handle it, and Kelsea, who dealt with her own fucked up past. The women seemed to settle their men’s souls in some way.

  Out of all of them, they never figured Mercy would ever settle. He did. And though he’d never be completely whole, being with Rissa made him as solid as he’d ever be.

  Kelsea and Ryder propped each other up. Two shaky halves which made a solid whole.

  As Walker whipped cards around the table for their next hand of poker, Hunter wished for the millionth time things could be different.

  That Frankie telling him she loved him hadn’t almost sent him into a tail spin. When he saw it on her face, his vision had narrowed, his throat had closed, his blood had pumped furiously. Not from his orgasm, but from the fear of becoming trapped.

  Though he knew she would never do that on purpose, he couldn’t shake that panic.

  Only now, he was tired of “if onlys.” Because every night in his bed, the “if onlys” took over his thoughts.

  If only. If only. If only.

  He needed to stop dwelling on it. Because the longer he did, the more he wanted to pull up stakes and move on from Shadow Valley and his team. The earth that held his shallow roots was eroding fast.

  He couldn’t do that to his team, or to his boss, but mostly he had to resist doing it to himself.

  For the most part, he was content where he was, with who he was. But those three powerful little words Frankie put out there between them had made him question everything.

  He had wanted to reach out and grab her, hold her tight and never let go. But no matter how much his heart wanted it, his brain wouldn’t allow it.

  So, instead, he did what he did best, he moved. Away from her, out of Manning Grove and back to his steady.

  What he had, which kept him grounded in Shadow Valley, circled the folding table.

  With a curse, Brick slapped his cards onto the table, making it shake dangerously.

  Ryder barked out a laugh and taunted, “See, asshole? Now you know what it’s like when you deal shitty hands.”

  Brick picked up his shot glass, downed two fingers of whiskey, slapped it on the table and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “I’m a good dealer.”

  Steel snorted beside him. “Yeah, you deal a good hand to yourself and bullshit to the rest of us.”

  “I deal whatever’s next in the pack,” Brick grumbled.

  Poker night would not be the same if they weren’t riding each other’s ass and riding them hard.

  Hunter needed to push Frankie out of his head and concentrate on the game. He was already down a Benjamin. He needed to win that back.

  “Tomorrow’s a new day, new job, Hunter,” Walker said around his cigar, which was tucked between his teeth. “You ready?”

  Thank fuck he was starting a new job that would keep his mind occupied and his body on the move. He’d done a few small jobs locally since returning from Manning Grove a little over two weeks ago, but he was ready to see new sights.

  While they all kept their ears to the ground in their hunt for Taz, it was no longer their main focus. They did what they could when they could since they were no longer being paid for it.

  But they’d never give up the hunt, since it still stuck in all of their craws that Taz had slipped through their fingers.

  At this point, the silence was so deafening, it had to be because Taz was sleeping six feet under. Maybe he beat the wrong woman and someone taught him a lesson he couldn’t forget due to no longer having any brain function.

  They could only be so fucking lucky.

  But Hunter still wanted confirmation the man became a meal for maggots.

  Walker smacked him on the back, making him jerk forward. “You need help with that job, you let me know. I’ve been itching for a challenge lately.”

  He was headed up to Maine in the morning to help hunt down a man who had taken some rich fucker’s daughter. The police said all evidence pointed to the woman having gone willingly with the man, most likely a lover, so they dropped the case. The father didn’t buy it. Said she’d never hook up with the guy.

  She probably did. She probably liked the dick and was tired of Dadd
y running her life. So, what better revenge then to run off together on his dime?

  Hunter hoped they’d bounced to some exotic locale, so he could spend some time on an island full of hot women in bikinis and plenty of booze.

  That would be a welcome distraction.

  Though, now he was picturing Frankie in her fucking tiny bikini top with her huge tits, the fabric straining to contain them.

  Fuck.

  “Earth to fucking Hunter,” Mercy growled at the end of the table. “You with us?”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled, then tipped his Iron City beer bottle to his lips, the now room temperature brew sliding down his throat.

  His gaze slid over Mercy, then Ryder. They said their women were at Brooke’s baby shower tonight at Sophie’s Sweet Treats in town. He wondered if Frankie would have fit in with the DAMC women.

  He was pretty sure she would. The club sisterhood wasn’t catty at all and the women all tended to support each other. During the month he spent in Manning Grove, Frankie never once talked about her friends or had one over. The only person she seemed to be close with was Diane, her “mom.”

  Between work and Leo, she was probably too busy to cultivate friendships. But she needed a support system. More than just her adopted mother.

  Jesus fuck.

  He needed to stop thinking and worrying about her. That was getting him nowhere fast.

  As he curled his cards up to peek at his hand, his cell phone vibrated on his hip. Anyone normally calling him was sitting at the table. Except for the boss man, who he assumed was home with his baby girls, while his pregnant ol’ lady was also at the baby shower.

  He unclipped the phone from the holder and glanced at the display.

  His heart pounded when he saw the nickname Loquilla on the screen. She was finally doing what he had asked.