Iron Will: Lords of Carnage: Ironwood MC

by Loveling, Daphne

Addi and Paisley squeal and scramble to their feet, then start running toward the door. We watch them go, laughing, then get to our feet to follow them.

  In spite of myself, my heartbeat begins to speed up, knowing I’m about to see Rourke.

  “Did you mean what you said about Rourke just now?” I murmur quietly to Bailey.

  She turns and looks me in the eyes. “I did. Rourke is not the kind of man to get attached. I think he’s a lot further gone for you than maybe even he realizes.”

  23

  Laney

  Outside, my eyes immediately scan for Rourke. When I find him, he’s already looking at me. He shoots me a sexy grin and motions for me to come to him.

  “You want a steak?” he asks, wrapping his large, warm arm around me and pulling me close. “Or something else?”

  “Well, since you fed me a hamburger last time, I’ll go steak this time. Medium, if I have a choice.”

  Laughter rumbles from his throat. “We’ll see if I can get Dante not to fuck it up.”

  A few minutes later, I’m sitting in a camping chair, eating a perfectly-prepared T-bone steak off a paper plate. My rum and Coke is sitting on the ground beside me.

  “I don’t know why you worried Dante wouldn’t know how to cook this,” I say to Rourke in between bites. “It’s delicious.”

  “That’s because I pulled it off the fire before he could destroy it.”

  “The hell you did,” Dante calls from the other side of the grill.

  “If I’d left it up to you, Laney’d be chewing on shoe leather right now,” Rourke tosses back.

  I listen to the men banter back and forth, polishing off my steak in record time. I haven’t eaten much today, and it’s nice to have some protein in my growling stomach — not to mention it’s good to have something in there to sop up the rum in my Coke. When I’m finished, I lean back and sigh happily, taking in the setting sun and the sounds of the men, women, and children around me. Again, I’m struck by how strangely normal this all seems — and how nice it is. I feel full, slightly buzzed, and content, surrounded by people I barely know but still somehow trust.

  “Laney.”

  My eyes pop open as a strong, gentle hand shakes my shoulder. “You good?”

  I stare up into Rourke’s eyes. The dark night sky surrounds him, sprinkled with stars.

  “I must have fallen asleep,” I murmur, pulling myself up in the chair. “How long was I out?”

  “About an hour, maybe.” Rourke’s grinning at me, clearly amused.

  “Wow.” I blink. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You must have needed it.”

  “Where is everyone?” I ask, looking around.

  “Most of them went back inside. Bailey took Addi back home. Bethany’s gettin’ Paisley ready for bed in Yoda’s apartment.”

  I smile up at him apologetically. “I’m not much of a date, am I?”

  “Date’s not over yet, babe. Come on.”

  He reaches out a hand, and I take it. Rourke pulls me up to a stand and slips his arm around my waist, just like he did a few hours ago. It feels so good to have him pull me close like this. It feels safe. Warm.

  I could definitely get used to it.

  I find myself hoping I’ll get the chance to.

  My throat feels dry as we go back inside the clubhouse. The muted music I heard outside is louder now, the men talking and laughing above it as they play pool or cards, shots of whiskey and bottles of beer in front of them. A couple of them whistle and catcall as we go past, but Rourke ignores them. He takes me through the narrow hallway Bethany pointed out earlier. Toward the back, where she said some of the men have apartments.

  A low ache starts between my legs when I realize where Rourke must be taking me.

  “Is this the next part of our date?” I whisper.

  Instead of giving me an answer, he opens a door far down on the right side of the hallway and leads me through it. Inside, he flips the switch on a lamp that’s sitting on a small table just inside the door. It bathes the room in a low, warm glow, revealing a small studio apartment that’s a lot nicer than I would have expected. It’s sparse, and clean, with a king-sized bed off to one side of the room, under a long window through which I glimpse the same stars we were sitting under just a few minutes ago.

  “Your apartment?” I ask.

  Rourke nods, drawing me to him. “Yeah. I have a place in town, too, but I stay here when I’m at the clubhouse late enough that I don’t want to ride home.”

  “You know, this is almost romantic,” I tease him. I raise my arms and put them around his neck, feeling the cords of his muscles through the fabric of his shirt.

  He breathes out a low rumble of laughter. “You were expecting candles and roses?”

  I turn my face up to his, seeing the intensity of his gaze as it bores into me. There’s no mistaking the desire in Rourke’s eyes. It burns hot as fire, making my heart speed up fast as a hummingbird’s in my chest. Suddenly short of breath, my lips part. I feel like I’m falling. But I know Rourke is here to catch me.

  “No,” I whisper. “This is what I want. Just this.”

  When he puts his lips to mine, its as though all the air is sucked from the room. He pulls me closer, my sex pressed hard against his hip. I moan and writhe against him, already driven nearly wild with desire. After last night, I know what he can do to me, and I need it, need him to take control of me, body and soul. My arms go tighter around his neck as he devours me, his hands lowering to cup my ass and pull me against the hard steely length of him. Oh, God, it’s good.

  Suddenly, Rourke tenses. “Fuck,” he groans, but it sounds more like pain. Then it hits me.

  “Oh, my God, I totally forgot you’re hurt!” I cry, pulling away.

  Rourke grits his teeth. “It’s okay. Not that bad. I just gotta move a little differently, is all.”

  He pulls me back to him, his mouth on mine. Our tongues find each other. One of Rourke’s hands comes up to my hair, his fingers twisting it into a rope. With a tug, he pulls my head back, exposing my neck. His mouth leaves mine, and begins its descent down the sensitive skin. The roughness of his beard contrasts with the heat of his lips, making me tremble and cling to him. The hand that was on my ass reaches under my shirt, his fingers grazing my skin. Somehow, he’s unclasped my bra, and then he’s cupping my breast, sliding a callused thumb against my nipple. A loud moan escapes my throat; I angle my hips upward, needing to feel more of his hardness against me, to relieve the pressure that’s quickly building inside me.

  Rourke raises his head and pulls away from me, taking a couple of steps back. I’m so dizzy with need I almost stumble, but manage to keep myself upright.

  He shrugs out of his cut and pulls off his T-shirt with one hand, the other going to his fly. A second later, he’s naked to the waist, and he’s unsheathed himself, his cock hard and pulsing in his hand. I watch, paralyzed with lust and admiration, as he slowly begins to stroke. His eyes on me.

  “I want to see you,” he rasps.

  Even though we were together last night, I’ve never stood in front of him naked before. But seeing him like this, huge and hard, makes me bold. I want him to look at me as he strokes himself. I want to see that it’s me who’s doing that to him.

  My lower lip sliding between my teeth, I force myself to lock eyes with him. I unbutton my blouse, slowly, trembling. When I’m finished, I lower my arms, and the silky material slips down, onto the floor. My bra goes next until, like him, I’m naked from the waist up. Rourke’s eyes leave mine, moving downward, his gaze caressing my breasts as the nipples harden from desire and the slight chill in the air.

  “Jesus, Laney.” His voice is thick. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  I unzip my pants and let them fall to the floor, stepping out of them as well as my shoes. I stand before him now, just wearing my panties, which are soaking wet — so much so that I’m thankful the light is low.

  I take a step toward him, thrumming with desire and
the need to touch and be touched. When I’m standing in front of him, I reach down and encircle his cock with my hand. Rourke sucks in a breath and freezes. My fingers barely fit around him. He’s incredibly hard for me, the velvet steel of him hot to the touch. Rourke takes his own hand away as I start to stroke him, mesmerized at how gorgeous he is. I’ve never known a man who affects me like this — never seen a man whose body I find so beautiful.

  My mouth is practically watering with the need to have him in my mouth. Rourke doesn’t stop me as I slowly drop to my knees. I lean forward, and see his thighs tense. Then, my tongue is sliding across the head of his cock, tasting the saltiness of his precum as I half-close my eyes.

  The groan that rips from Rourke’s throat sounds like a caged animal. He stiffens, one hand going to the top of my head. I lean forward and slide more of him into my mouth, my lips tightening around him. I start to move, taking him as deep as I can, and wrapping one hand around the base of his shaft to stroke him in the same rhythm.

  “Laney,” he murmurs. “Fuck, you feel good. I’m not gonna be able to take much of that.”

  My heart thrills at his words. I’m doing this to him!

  I slow my strokes, savoring the taste and the heat of him. I never believed women enjoyed giving blow jobs — not really — and this is a revelation to me. I would do this to Rourke every day, and never get tired of it. To feel how he responds to me, hear the way his breathing goes ragged as I suck and tease him… I want to make him come like this. I want him to lose control, his legs shaking as he explodes in my mouth.

  I want to be the only woman to make him feel this way.

  God help me, I want to be the only woman in Rourke’s life.

  My thoughts are interrupted by Rourke hissing out a curse and pulling away from me.

  “On the bed,” he orders roughly.

  I immediately do as he says. I move to the king-size bed, and I’m barely sitting down when he’s moving over me, pushing me down onto my back. He props himself on one knee and takes the thin fabric of my panties in his fingers. Eyes locked on his, I prop myself on my elbows and raise my hips so he can take them off me. I’m so ready for him to be inside me that my legs fall open, but instead of him kneeling between them, he slides down further and parts my thighs with his rough hands.

  My breath catches in my throat in anticipation as I realize what’s about to happen.

  Then, Rourke’s tongue finds my clit.

  My entire body jolts with a force that hits me like a flamethrower. My hips buck toward him, with a surge of need so powerful it’s almost like pain. Rourke pulls back, circling around my swollen sex, grabbing my hips and holding them down so I can’t move closer to him. He slows his tongue, exploring and tasting me as I writhe and moan, at once in agony and in the most delicious pleasure I’ve ever felt. I can barely breathe, my every movement in rhythm with his strokes, my entire body controlled by him like a puppet master pulling my strings. I moan incoherently, trying to beg him, but I can’t make my mind form any words other than his name.

  He leaves my clit, sliding his tongue downward to plunge deep inside me. I know I’m wet, soaking, dripping, but I’m too far gone to be embarrassed as he licks and tastes me, I just want more, more, I just want him to let me come, to give me what he knows I’m desperate for. My cries get sharper, shorter, more desperate, and then, just when I think I might actually go insane, Rourke slides his tongue out of me and sucks my clit between his lips.

  I tense. Then I explode.

  I cry out, gripping at the mattress. I’m falling, falling, into a place I’ve never been, and all I can feel is Rourke’s mouth on me, my skin on fire, the blood pounding through me as my entire body ricochets through the most intense orgasm of my life. I barely register it when he moves away, lifting himself up to kneel between my thighs. But then, the velvet heat of him slides against my opening, slick with my juices, and I cry out again as my eyes fly open.

  “Laney,” he says hoarsely.

  Then, he’s inside me.

  Rourke drives himself deep, gripping my hips as he pulls me onto him. His gaze is locked on mine, dark eyes blazing with an intensity I’ve never seen. He withdraws, then drives in again, harder, like a man possessed. I know from the tension in his face he’s working to hold himself back, but that he won’t last long.

  Rourke expands inside me, so much that I can feel it.

  His eyes close.

  Then, roaring my name, he drives into me one final time and finds his release.

  I spend the night with Rourke in his apartment.

  It feels like an oasis to me here, tucked away from the rest of the world. Somehow, in the middle of a biker clubhouse, I sleep better than I have in months. I’m dead to the world until the next morning, when once again, Rourke wakes me. But this time, it’s not with a hand on my shoulder.

  “Rourke,” I moan as he enters me from behind. I arch my back to meet him, loving the way he stretches me.

  His hand comes around my waist, grabbing mine and guiding it down to my already swollen nub, He slides my middle finger through my slick juices, then begins to swirl it against me in slow lazy circles. I tense and arch further, my head falling to the side, back against his shoulder. He kisses me deeply as he continues to swirl, and begins to pump himself inside me. It’s all so much, so intense, that I start to lose any sense of where I end and he begins, and soon, almost before I realize it, I’m coming, spasming around his cock as he pumps once more and empties himself deep inside me.

  I’ve never felt so full, or so alive, or so… loved.

  We must fall asleep again, because some time later, I wake up with a start. Leaning down over the bed, I reach into my bag on the floor and pull out my phone.

  “Shoot — I’m going to be late for work!” I gasp as I look at the screen.

  “You need to go home before I drive you to the hospital?” Rourke asks in a gravely voice. He props himself up on one elbow as I scramble out of bed.

  I do a quick calculation in my head. “No time. I’ll be okay — I have a blazer hanging up in my office.” I grab up the pile of my clothes on the floor. It’s not ideal, but it will have to do. “Is there…?”

  “Through there,” Rourke rumbles, pointing to a door.

  I race to the bathroom, hoping he’s not staring at my naked butt, and lock myself in. I pee, get dressed, splash some water on my face, and squeeze some toothpaste on my finger from a tube in the vanity to give my teeth a quick scrub. Thankfully, I also have a toothbrush at work.

  By the time I get out of the bathroom, Rourke is dressed himself. We walk through the now-deserted main room of the clubhouse and out the front door to Rourke’s bike. I pick up the helmet and strap it on, then get on behind him and put my feet on the pegs, marveling at how second-nature this has already started to feel.

  The crisp morning air blows the cobwebs from my brain. By the time we pull up in front of the hospital entrance, I’m feeling almost fully awake. A little caffeine and I should be as good as new.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I murmur as I hand the helmet back to Rourke.

  “You’re welcome.” He pauses a beat. “Am I gonna see you later?”

  I bite my lip. “Do you want to see me later?”

  Rourke stands up from the bike and pulls me against him. I feel the heat and length of him through the fabric of his jeans, and have to stifle a moan.

  “I can barely get enough of you as it is, babe,” he murmurs. The heat of his breath against my skin makes me tremble. “I think you can tell how much I want to see you later.”

  “Then yes,” I gasp, suddenly wishing like hell today was Saturday.

  Rourke bends down and takes my mouth in a kiss that leaves me dizzy and panting. “Text me later.”

  I watch in a daze as he drives off, engine roaring. I pull in a deep breath and let it out slowly, half-sigh, half-moan. “Sweet Jesus,” I whisper.

  Turning, I start toward the glass front of the building entrance. As I push throu
gh the first set of doors, I glimpse a familiar figure, standing on the other side, arms crossed.

  It’s Blake Barber.

  And he does not look happy.

  24

  Rourke

  After I drop Laney off at the hospital, I’m planning to head back to my place, but a text from Axel calls me back to the clubhouse.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I ask him as I stride into his office. He’s staring at the wall, jaw tense, hands steepled in front of him. I sit down in the straight-backed chair across from him, the legs squeaking in protest as they slide against the floor.

  “I got a call from Chaco’s right-hand man, Indio.”

  I’m instantly alert. “How’s Chaco?”

  “He’s okay. I mean, he ain’t okay, but he’ll live.” Axel’s forehead is furrowed.

  “But?”

  “But.” He blows out a breath. “It’s about what we already figured. The ambush was the Caballeros. One of the bodies they found was a guy they recognized as a member of that gang.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Fuck is right.” Axel runs a hand roughly through his hair. “Indio confirmed what Chaco said yesterday: They got enough product from a different source to get us our shipment today. But that’s just a temporary fix. The fact is, Dos Santos is on the verge of a full-blown turf war.”

  “What do you think Angel’s gonna say?” I frown.

  “Don’t know. I’m callin’ him later today.” Axel grimaces. “We got an agreement with Chaco. And Angel’s a man of his word. But if Los Caballeros has turned against the Dos Santos cartel, they just lost their only ally against Sinaloa.” He pauses a beat. “And we just lost our pipeline.”

  My head starts to pound. This is big. It ain’t just the pipeline. It’s our livelihoods. And more than that, it’s about maintaining our hold on our territory. The Lords are going to have to make some tough decisions going forward.

  “We got any other sources we could tap to fill the holes, for now?” I ask. “What about that club to the east of Angel’s chapter? The Death Devils? You think they got any connections we could use?”