He held his hand out, my eyes dropping to the tattoos that circled his wrist. “You need help?”
I cleared my throat, shaking my head. “No, I’m fine. I’d look stupid with three anyway.”
The deep roll of his laughter was a ride of its own. The low, raspy tone moving through my body had flicked open the door on the cage full of butterflies that had taken residence inside my stomach and let them free. Their wings fluttered frantically, stirring my nerves, urging my heart to beat a little faster to keep in time.
“Yeah, and how would I give two thumbs up with only one,” he agreed, stepping back as I fought with the sand, slipping and sliding on my mission to get back on my feet without flashing this guy, and also not losing myself to the wave of giggles that had suddenly caught me off guard.
Stupid hand joke.
“She likes horrible dad jokes. I’ll make a mental note.”
“Don’t tell the tabloids, they’ll have a field day,” I teased, shaking my head and looking up at the smirking stranger as I ducked past him, determined to get to the water. I almost didn’t make it, the heat radiating off him causing me to pause for a brief second, pulling me in like a moth to a flame. It was teasing me, trying to draw me closer, and tempt me as the cool night air swept off the water and whipped at my bare skin.
Which just happened to be most of it.
What the hell was going on here?
One after another, he met me step for step, his eyes holding mine as I backed toward the shore.
“Swimming is dangerous at night,” he warned, his head dipping and his eyes watching me from beneath his brow. The shadows of the night disguised his eyes, hiding the color, making my heart race a little faster.
It was intimidating.
Intense.
Like a predator stalking its prey.
My foot finally hit the water and I sucked in a deep breath, falling back a step and allowing a shudder to move through my entire body, goosebumps crashing like a wave across my skin as the cool water became knee-deep. “I’m not swimming,” I argued with an airy laugh, fighting the chill, but enjoying the way it stole my breath at the same time. “I’m just dipping my feet. Paddling.”
“Uh-huh,” he hummed, unconvinced, and once again matching my steps one for one as I walked down the water’s edge, swishing my feet gently through the water.
Maybe it wasn’t the water stealing my breath.
The waves my feet made in the water skewed the lights from the house, making them sparkle differently.
Twinkling like stars.
Transporting me somewhere else.
Somewhere different to the house full of wannabe socialites.
“Are these parties typical around here?”
“Not enjoying Eden’s little get-together, huh?” the mysterious man enquired, tucking his hands into his pockets and drawing my attention back to the tattoos that wrapped around his wrists and up his forearms. “She can be intense.”
“Interesting word,” I teased as I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth, biting hard as I narrowed my eyes in the darkness, trying to make out just what the intricate art really was. “Maybe not quite the one I was thinking of.”
“Loud?”
“Obnoxious.”
“Hey, you kids! Come out of the damn water,” a voice screamed at us from up by the house, a spotlight blinding me for a brief second before two hands grabbed my shoulders.
“Play along,” my new friend whispered, placing his body between the security guard and me.
“With wh—”
He dipped his head, his lips finding mine in a feverish kiss that had my head spinning. I clutched his shirt in my hands, feeling my body lean in, pressing against his, that warmth now fucking irresistible.
His tongue swept across my lips, urging them open.
I gave in.
The fight in me totally smothered by this fire that had begun to burn in the pit of my stomach, the heat radiating out, making it harder to breathe, harder to think—my entire focus on just how goddamn good his body felt pressed against mine. How my hips pressed forward with a mind of their own as his fingers swept up into my hair.
“You guys need to get off the damn beach or I’ll throw you ou—”
My captor pulled back suddenly, his hands still holding me hostage—like he wasn’t fucking done yet—as he turned his head just enough so he could see over his shoulder. “There a problem?” he growled, the warning in his tone full of authority and the kind of attitude that was more than just a teenage boy with an attitude.
“Shit! Striker,” the security guard stumbled to apologize. “Sorry, man, I’ll head back around the side of the house.”
Our bodies stayed frozen as we listened for the scratch of his boots against the concrete path.
I should have pulled back.
Should have said thanks and walked away.
But instead, my hands continued to stay twisted in his shirt, holding his body close, as he turned back toward me. His intense gaze dropping to mine, the light from the house finally lighting up the rich dark blue color, much like the ocean, pulling me beneath the surface and stealing all my senses.
It was like every nerve in my body was alight.
Every inch of me so damn aware of him and of his touch.
I wanted more.
“You keep looking at me like that…” his deep rasp dared. “See what happens.”
It was a warning.
One I maybe should have heeded, because I was starting to get the feeling that this guy was something else. Something more than what I was prepared for.
“Striker, is it?” I whispered, one of my hands falling to the waist of his jeans, the nervous limb shaking profusely despite the confidence I was attempting to feign.
“It is.” His fingers tightened in my hair, the sharp tug forcing a gasp from my lips as he leaned in. “Now, let’s see how it sounds when you scream it.”
Chapter Eight
Coralie
We rushed around the side of the house, me trying not to laugh like a nervous schoolgirl and him acting like freaking James Bond or some shit.
He yanked open the garage door, dragging me inside behind him and slamming it shut before flicking the lock over and pressing me back against the cold metal.
I sucked in a sharp breath, the cold of the door against my back, the heat of his body pressed to my front—I couldn’t decide which was more satisfying.
His fingers curled around my wrists, pulling them up over my head. Striker moved them both to one hand, holding me hostage while his right hand cupped the side of my face. His head dipped forward, his lips finding my neck, sucking and nipping at the skin, drawing soft, gentle gasps from my mouth.
My hips ground forward, pressing hard against the growing bulge forming in the front of his pants, my mouth dropping open as I felt just how damn big it was.
I wanted more.
I wanted everything.
At this point, every inhibition I had was replaced by this desperate need to just feel his body wrapped around me.
Jesus, what was it about this man?
This guy I’d never fucking met before but that I had this ache for, one I couldn’t explain.
I was in total shock.
Not just at the way my body felt in response to his, but in how easily I was finding it to give in.
Every inch of my skin felt electric.
Every time he touched me felt like another surge of power shooting through me and I just couldn’t get enough. My breathing was intermittent and light, trying to catch a little bit of air as his mouth followed the curve of my breast, his fingers rolled down the skin-tight leather as one breast popped free.
I closed my eyes tightly, my hips grinding forward, desperately seeking some kind of touch as he dipped his head and pulled my nipple in between his teeth. “God,” I groaned softly, tilting my head back and pressing my chest forward, his hands still refusing to let me go, refusing to let me touch him as he tortured
my body with his mouth. “Please.”
Striker’s amused laugh was the last thing I needed, his free hand gripping my breast almost painfully, his tongue flicking back and forth across the hardened bud that was at his complete and utter mercy.
“What do you want, Cora?” he taunted, tugging it hard between his teeth before he drew his face back to look at mine. The sound of his zipper electrified my body to the next level, followed closely by a distinct rustling sound of a condom being opened.
“You know my name,” I rasped, my mind swirling, wondering when I’d told him my name but then remembering he’d probably heard Eden practically scream it through the house the entire night.
“What. Do. You. Want?”
His hand began to follow the curve of my hip, his fingertips tickling over my skin as it followed the hem of my dress.
My very short dress.
“You.”
“Hmmm,” he hummed, almost sounding amused.
Why wouldn’t he be, though? He was in total control, his hands roaming my body, convincing me to say whatever the hell he wanted me to say because I wanted him so bad. He grabbed a handful of the barely-there mini dress, yanking it up to my waist, the entire thing now pooled around my middle.
“I wanna touch you, trace every fucking part of you and see just how many ways I can make you come,” he murmured, grabbing my hips and lifting me off the ground, forcing my legs around him.
My body shivered in anticipation, his words making my hips move on their own, desperate to have him inside me. He grabbed my panties in his fist, yanking them to the side as he lined up his cock with my pussy, his length already slipping through its wetness.
“But I ain’t got the patience for that right now, because all I can think about is how good my name will sound falling from your lips.”
His cock nudged my clit and I threw my arms around his neck, clinging desperately to him, my nails digging into his skin as just that one touch almost sent me over the edge.
Striker slammed my back against the door, the sound rattling and echoing in the large three-car garage, making my heart race, and my eyes flick toward the door I could now see. The one that I was pretty sure went straight into the house where the party was still raging.
Jesus, I was going to hell.
Striker ground his hips forward again, this time, finding exactly the right spot and slipping inside me. “Damn it,” he hissed, pinching his eyes closed and pressing his forehead to mine, the both of us fighting for a freaking breath.
My mouth fell open in total awe of just how fucking good he felt, sliding ever so slowly inside me, filling me up to the damn brim. “Wow,” I gasped softly, but the word was barely comprehendible, even to me. When he bottomed out, he pushed a little further, just to give me that jolt of pain mixed with overwhelming pleasure.
He drew back, and continued to torment me with slow strokes, in and out, using my back against the metal door as leverage at the perfect angle. He wasn’t afraid of letting me feel everything, making me beg for more. “Striker,” I moaned, raising my hips to meet his to try and get him moving faster. It only brought a fucking smirk to his face though, almost as if he was waiting for something more. “Please.”
Striker hooked his arm under one of my legs lifting it higher and pushing it closer to my body, creating a new angle. One hard thrust and I let out a surprised and excited cry, his cock hitting the exact spot I needed. “Is that it? Right there?” he taunted, doing it again and getting the same response.
My heart pounded in my chest, knowing that if he would just keep going, I would no doubt explode into a million pieces within seconds.
But he was determined to torture me and I had no fucking idea why. He pulled back again, his length barely dipping inside.
I squirmed, my nails scratching at his neck. “You’re an asshole,” I told him through gritted teeth as I tried to balance that line between seeing my orgasm on the horizon but then watching it slip away when he retreated.
“Maybe that’s my plan,” he threw back as he pressed in again, holding my body captive on the brink of ecstasy. “Get you to think I’m an asshole, so you don’t see this coming.”
The air left my lungs as his arms wrapped right around me, pinning my body to his while he rapidly began thrusting inside me, hard, and fucking fast. I couldn’t catch my breath. “Striker!” I called while fighting for breath.
My heart pounded. My body tingled.
It was like I could feel everything and nothing all at the same time.
The burning fire was already lit. It had been slowly burning, but now, Striker had just thrown on some gasoline, and within seconds I was bursting into flames. “Oh, my fucking God, yes!”
Striker didn’t stop. He didn’t give up as a wave of heat crashed over me and my body bowed, my pussy clenching so hard around his cock that I was surprised he could even move it. “Oh, Striker… shit!”
“Fuck,” he cursed, squeezing the air from my lungs as he held me captive, his dick buried deep inside me as he pumped every last drop of cum out. “Holy shit,” he growled, his entire body twitching, forcing another sharp gasp from my mouth.
The air in the room was hot and humid, I struggled to find my breath, my whole body feeling like it had been lit on fire.
“Damn you look good like that,” he murmured quietly, his breathing heavy and uneven.
“Like what?” I whispered, leaning back against the door, the freezing cold metal not shocking my body but cooling it perfectly this time.
“Satisfied.”
My body was still trying to keep up, my hips moving on their own as my pussy continued to deal with the aftershock of the quick but intense orgasm. “It’s honestly been a long time since I was…” I laughed, sweeping my hands up into his hair, “…satisfied.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, pressing his slightly damp forehead to mine. “Well, since you’re going to be in the area, you need any satisfying any time soon…” He let the offer hang in the air.
And I already knew the likelihood I would take him up on that was almost a sure thing.
“I’m sure I heard something out here…”
“Shit!” I cursed.
Striker almost dropped me on my ass as he lowered me down onto two shaky legs. We both ducked as the door that led into the house opened with a creak while I tried to pull this stupid dress over my now sweaty body. Striker was attempting to dispose of a condom while at the same time not zip his dick up in his pants.
“You really think they could be out here? Lenny said he saw them out on the beach like twenty minutes ago,” Eden’s voice answered in confusion.
“Lenny was right,” Striker called suddenly, reaching for the taps at the sink just a few feet from us. “We’re just washing the sand off our feet, so we don’t traipse it through the house. You know how much the owner of this place hates that.”
The clip-clop of Eden’s heels making their way toward us through the maze of cars and household mess, fell in time with my heartbeat. While it had slowed, it was now climbing again because the idea of being caught right now made me feel like I wanted to freaking vomit.
“Hey, you guys,” she beamed excitedly, her eyes scanning the scene.
Striker was now crouched down in front of me with a towel, looking like he was cleaning away what was left of the beach.
“I was hoping I would be the one to introduce you guys, but I guess I’m a bit late for that.”
“Yeah, we met outside, bonded over dad jokes.” I laughed, stepping back when Striker climbed to his feet, his eyes never leaving me as I slowly put some space between us.
“Yeah,” Striker agreed with a soft rasp, his head tilted just slightly. “A real connection.”
Eden’s eyes brightened and I swore she almost jumped up and down in excitement.
“Oh wow, this was what I was hoping for, the three of us… best friends, invincible, unstoppable,” she rambled, clapping her hands together. “This is too perfect.”
Striker wasn’t saying anything, not even as my gaze flicked between the two of them in confusion. “I’m sorry, the three of us?”
Eden frowned for a second, rolling her eyes. “Yes, silly, obviously Striker and I are already close, given we are siblings…”
Oh, God—I didn’t hear another word.
My eyes grew wide, my gaze flicking to his.
There was nothing.
His eyes had hardened, his arms folded across his chest.
“But now you are going to be our stepsister, we are going to rule this place. Three gorgeous, smart, determined people…”
She kept rambling but I heard nothing.
This wasn’t happening.
Fuck!
To Be Continued. . .
Other books
By: Addison Jane
If you enjoyed this book, you will love:
Harmony
The Club Girl Diaries Book 1
Click here to purchase
Blurb
I was a club girl.
I made no excuses for who I was or what I've done.
We had our purpose--to cook, clean and keep the men happy.
After a lifetime of watching men walk in and out of my life, it was strangely comforting, and feeling I'd grown accustom to.
All I wanted was to have fun, play my music and finish college.
At the club, I could do that.
No strings attached, no risking my heart.
At least, that was the plan.
I was born to be president.
The Brothers by Blood MC was my family--my home.
The club ran in my veins.
I wasn't looking for much more.
The last thing I expected was to find Harmony--a club girl with all the makings of a perfect old lady.
Call My Bluff Page 29