Bear (Wayward Kings MC Book 1)

by Zahra Girard

  I breathe in the freezing air, let the sharp cold temper the alcohol burning through my veins.

  It’s a good night.

  A night surrounded by my kind of people, in my kind of place, getting a preview of the sort of life I can expect as a dad, and hearing about some activities I can share with the little girl waiting for me out west.

  It’s the first time since they let me loose that I feel free.

  The lights go off in the bar behind us, the neon Dirty Hank’s sign goes off, and the spare few guys in the parking lot pound cups of coffee and fire bikes to life.

  “Oh God, I’m drunk,” Roxanna slurs into my shoulder.

  “Yeah, we’re not driving anywhere tonight, Houdini,” I mutter.

  “Can you stop calling me that?”

  I look down at her. Wide green eyes, glassy with vodka and affection, staring back at me through messy brown hair. She’s gorgeous. “What’s wrong? You earned that nickname with how many times you got out of those zip ties. You can’t just back out of it.”

  If it were anyone else, I’d be teasing her mercilessly right now. But I’m inclined to give her some slack, since she managed to really let herself relax back there once she’d had a few drinks.

  She blinks, slow, then shakes her head. “Right, but my friends just call me ‘Rox’ or ‘Roxy’. Or you can call me just ‘Roxanna’ if you want. But please, no more ‘Houdini’.”

  “Probably a good idea anyway. Houdini was not an attractive man,” I say, smiling. “My grandfather had a poster from one of his shows. He saw him in New York back in the 1920’s, when he was doing some trick where he’d seal himself in an underwater casket without air and stay down there for an hour or whatever. The Houdini on the poster looked like a cross between a mad scientist and a goblin. Gave me nightmares.”

  “So just call me Roxanna, ok?” she says into my shoulder.

  “As long as there are no more escape attempts, Houdini.”

  Frowning, she looks up at me. “I told you, I’m with you on this.”

  “Fine, fine,” I say. I’m in no mood to argue tonight. Instead, I’m drunk on thoughts about things I’ll share with my daughter.

  We get to the truck and I fish the keys out of my pocket. She shoots me a dirty and confused look. “No, I ain’t driving us anywhere, Roxanna. But I sure as hell am turning this truck on so we can run the heat for a minute. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s cold.”

  Which is an understatement — all the windows are covered in a sheet of ice.

  I let her in first. Once inside, I put the keys in the ignition and let the truck rumble until enough heat’s coming out the vents that I don’t have to worry about the two of us turning into icicles. Still, I catch her shivering.

  I take my cut off and lay it over her.

  “Thank you,” she say.

  “Can’t have my hostage freezing to death.”

  “I had a good time, tonight,” she says, her voice wide with a yawn. She leans into me, pressing close, and her head settles back onto my shoulder.

  “Me too.”

  “You really read all those books?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “And more than just those. Fuck if I didn’t have the time while in prison and you have to fight off boredom somehow.”

  Which isn’t even the half of it. TV options were shit on the inside — reality shows, the best of which was some show about a British chef who was really good at cursing, and the news. Other than some yard time and the eight hours I killed each day working for the state, I had a lot of fucking time on my hands.

  “I never would’ve figured you for the reading type, that’s all.”

  “I never would’ve figured me for the type either, but, then I had a kid. And I realized, I want to find these things to share with her. So I gotta change some things about myself. I want to be able to talk cartoons with her, or hand her a book and tell her that I think she’ll like it and that, later, her and I can sit down together and share it. Maybe someday, when she’s a little older, I’ll teach her to shoot and get her her first bike.”

  “It sounds like you’ll be a great dad.”

  “I damn well hope so. I’m going to try my fucking best.”

  I can’t help it, I’m grinning like a fool at just the thought of it. I shut my eyes, and I can see her; I can see us. It’s not going to be easy making it happen — there’s so much standing between me and my little girl — but I’m not going to let any of it stop me.

  She shifts. Her breath, hot and urgent, tickles my cheek. Calling me to my senses.

  My eyes open. Hers stare back into mine. They’re warm. Intent.

  Slowly, she presses her lips to mine. Tentative at first, easing into it, but only for a moment, as any hesitation in her gives way to smoldering heat. My lips part and her tongue slides into my mouth.

  I can’t hold back.

  I kiss her like I fucking mean it.

  Moaning, she moves again, sliding one leg on top of me until she’s straddling me.

  And then her lips are back against mine.

  I reach behind her and give her luscious ass a squeeze. Firm, curvy, she fills her jeans in all the right fucking ways.

  Christ, what a fucking firecracker.

  She pulls back from me a little bit, biting my lip, eyes blazing.

  “I know the kind of things you do, Nash,” she whispers, her voice hushed, heated, tailor-made to make my cock jump in my jeans. “But you’re a good man. I like that about you.”

  I can hardly hear her words over the way her tits are calling out to me, rising with each breath, her nipples erect, visible against the fabric of her shirt.

  I want this.

  She wants this.

  “You know what you’re in for, Roxanna?” I murmur as I brush my hand against her cheek.

  I doubt she does. Most women don’t, before they get into bed with me. There’s something great about blowing their already high expectations out of the water. About leaving them breathless, flushed, panting, begging for more.

  Her eyes drift upwards for a second, searching and she bites her lip. Then, smiling, she looks back to me. “I think I do.”

  “You’re still my captive, you know. I’m still taking you back west with me.”

  Her chuckle fans the flames burning through my blood. It’s sultry and unrepentantly sexy. “I’m not your captive. I’m your accomplice. I see how important family is to you, and I’ve misjudged you. So, I’m choosing to go with you, because I want to help a good man get his daughter back,” she says. Then, she winks. “Besides, there’s no way you could keep me locked up. We proved that, remember?”

  Sweet lips that taste like fruit and liquor, and a body that writhes and sways against me in a way that kicks my heart into gear and sets my rock hard cock straining against my jeans.

  I ache to get closer to her. To fill her, to feel her writhe while I’m inside her, pushing her, breaking her in all the right ways.

  “Have we?” I say, knocking open the glove compartment with a smack. I kiss her again.

  “It sounds like you have something in mind…”

  I draw the zip ties out and her eyes light up.

  Breathing hard, she runs her hands down her body, taking hold of her shirt and lifting it off. I kiss her neck, lingering on her chest as she strips her bra and tosses it aside.

  Smooth, soft, intoxicating; smelling like flowers, booze, and smoke, the kind of mix that reminds me of hard days driving and even harder nights fucking.

  “Put your hands on my tits,” she moans. “I want to feel you touch me.”

  My heart jumps in my chest. It has been too long, but what a fucking way to get back in it.

  I grin and caress her tits, because it’d just be fucking rude to keep a woman like her waiting. My cock is straining against my jeans, and there’s a light in her eyes and the way they spring wide tells me she can feel it, and she’s just starting to realize what a ride she’s in for.

  I take her by the wrist and w
rench the zip ties tight around them.

  She gasps, but doesn’t struggle, and watches, lips parted, as I lift her hands up to the grab handle above the door and secure it there with another zip tie.

  Arms raised, chest outward, she’s gorgeous.

  Blood is pounding through my veins and my cock is raring to fuck this pretty, fiery woman into oblivion.

  She smiles at me crookedly. She knows what I want.

  She wants it, too.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? Prison make you forget how to fuck a woman?”

  I laugh.

  And tear her jeans off.

  “No, but a few years locked up with a bunch of greasy sons of bitches made me forget how beautiful some women can be.”

  “Nash, are you trying to charm me?” she says, eyes flickering down as I slide her panties off her plump ass. “Because we’re past the point where you need to do that.”

  “Not hardly, Roxy. But I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t show you some tenderness before I fucked your brains out.”

  She smiles, but her retort dies on her lips as I pull the release on the seat, sending it reclining flat backwards. I grab her by the ass, and pull her pussy to my face. I can’t help but moan at the first taste. Sweet, fragrant, fuck I want to bury my face in it for ages. There’s nothing closer to heaven.

  “Jesus fucking holy shit,” she gasps.

  I chuckle and she shivers as I run my tongue along the edges of her labia, barely touching them, teasing. Tension builds, and each brush of my tongue brings it closer to it’s destination. But I’m patient, and I let her anticipation build before shifting my tongue and gently brushing her clit.

  She moans and grinds her hips into my face.

  “Fuck, Nash.”

  I’d almost forgotten how delicious pussy can be. Holding tight to her ass, pulling her into my face, my tongue does not want to stop moving, my lips do not want to stop sucking. If there’s an incentive to stay out of prison, this is it.

  “Oh my God,” she moans as I suck gently on her clit, drawing it out, pulling it into my lip’s embrace.

  She twitches and struggles above me, pulling against her bound hands.

  I pause and look up at her.

  Eyes closed, her nipples hard, her lips open in a silent moan, her head tossed back and her hair in wild disarray, she’s going to make me shoot even before I get my dick wet she’s so goddamned hot.

  But there’s no way in hell I’m stopping until I make this firecracker explode.

  Still watching, I suck again, caressing her clit with my tongue while I watch her writhe and moan.

  “Don’t stop. Keep going. Just like that.”

  I suck a little harder, flick my tongue a little harder, and grin as she jerks against the zip ties. Sweat beads on her chest and forehead and her face is locked in a mask of rapture, eyes fluttering, mouth part open in some silent prayer of lust.

  I keep my eyes on her, drinking in the sight of her while my tongue and lips worship her wet pussy.

  “Nash, I think I’m—”

  She is.

  I growl against her, let the vibrations push her over the edge.

  She breaks.

  It is beautiful.

  This curvy, sensual, maddening woman, with her thighs clenched tight to my face, ass flexing beneath my hands, body crumbling beneath my tongue, is breaking against me.

  Fuck, I love it.

  I hold her there while her pulsing thrashing subsides, until I’m sure she’s ready for what I am aching to give her. Then my hands release her ass and free my cock from my jeans. I shove them down around my knees and, holding her quivering body tight, slide inside her.

  She thrashes as I fill her. Eyes wide, biting her lip, she gasps. “Fuck, you’re big.”

  “God damn,” I moan.

  I want to say something back, but it’s been too long since I’ve fucked a woman. And never one as beautiful as this firecracker currently erupting on my cock. The way her slick pussy clenches against my dick jolts me through my every nerve and makes my heart explode in the fiery heat of passion.

  Digging my fingers into her hips, I hold on for dear life while she writhes on on my cock, grinding her hips against me in frenzied ecstasy while my balls-deep cock presses firmly against her g-spot.

  Her eyes are wild.

  Her shaking, frenzied grinding is even wilder.

  “I think I’m going to—” she sputters, her words dying on her lips while a bright red flush lights up her cheeks. Growling and shaking her head so that her hair flies wildly, she pops her eyes open wide and looks right into me. “Cut my hands free.”

  I grin up at her while she spins on my cock. Cum ins boiling in my balls, I can feel it building to erupt, and I’m not inclined to take my hands off her body just to let her go. “Oh yeah?”

  “Do it,” she snarls.

  Her voice is this throaty moan that comes from deep in her chest; her pussy clenches tight to my cock for emphasis.

  No way in hell I can say no to that.

  Leaning over, I reach into the glove compartment and snatch out a knife. Two quick cuts, she’s free and I toss the knife on the dash.

  She leans down, grabbing my head in her hands, pressing her lips to mine, tongue thrusting into my mouth.

  I reach behind her, clenching my hands, holding her in place while our lips and tongues dance. Rocking my hips, I press deeper into her, ripping a moan from her that vibrates deliciously against my lips.

  She shudders and I rock my hips again, grinding right against that spot that sets her off.

  “Keep going. Harder,” she whispers, biting the lobe of my ear. “Fuck me like you own me.”

  My cock is ready to explode, but I grit my teeth and hold it back. There’s something I need. Reaching down, I grab her by the hips and lift, pulling her off my cock. Shifting, I lie her flat on her back on the seat and take my place between her legs. It’s a tight fit, but it always will be with her. And god damn, is it worth it.

  I slide into her and she tilts her head back. Her nails dig trenches into my shoulders. Blood drips down my arms, sliding over my tattoos.

  “Fuck,” she moans. “I wish you would’ve kidnapped me sooner.”

  I bury my cock in her until my balls slap hard against her perfect, curvy ass.

  “Hold on,” I whisper.

  Her eyes flutter, the edges of her full lips lift in a smile. Her nails dig harder into my shoulder until it feels like she’s going for bone. The pain is hot, driving me to fuck her even harder.

  Her body rocks with my thrusts, tits swaying, and a constant, loan splits her lips. The seat beneath us shudders, metal squealing and springs snapping, straining, as I fuck this firecracker into oblivion.

  “Nash, oh God, yes, yes” she moans until her words die and her pussy clenches tight around my cock like a vise. A wet hot grip, and her legs locking around my back push me over the edge.

  I shut my eyes.

  I lock my lips to hers as I lose myself inside her.

  My body shakes as I erupt, every part of me on fire with the force my my release. My lungs burn like I can’t get enough air, every touch a jolt through my nerves.

  For ages — seconds, minutes, hours, I don’t fucking know how long — we stay together. Inside her.

  Beneath me, breathing hard, sweat on her forehead and a smile on her face, she stares back at me with eyes so wide I could fall into them and lose myself forever.

  But, like it always happens, once I’ve gotten off, that other head of mine starts thinking.

  I hate that logical son of a bitch. Especially when he’s right.

  I pull out of her and it’s almost painful leaving behind her tight, wet warmth.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I say. A lie. I reach around the floor for some of our clothes and lay them over us as I stretch out beside her. “It’s going to get freezing soon. We should try and get some sleep.”

  “Mmhmm,” she says, resting her h
ead on my shoulder. “Goodnight.”

  It’s an incredible feeling. Contentment. She lets out this little sigh and nuzzles closer, holding me tight. Her breathing turns deep and easy as she drifts off. I hold her, relish her softness against me, her warmth, her beauty.

  It’s wrong.

  I shut my eyes. Burned into the back of my eyelids I see her: my daughter. My purpose. My chance to have something I never thought I’d have. My chance to be a dad.

  This was just sex, I tell myself, stroking her soft brown hair.

  I tell it to myself again and again before I slip into a drunken sleep.

  It’s just sex. It has to be.

  She’s still just my hostage.

  That’s it. Whatever else I feel for her is a lie.

  No one – not even her – will keep me from what’s mine.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Roxanna

  The feral roar of a few hundred horses coming to life under the hood of a beat-up old pickup truck is my alarm clock. Every single one of those horses gallops right over my head. It’s not exactly the ideal way to come back to life when you’ve got a hangover.

  “We’ve got to move,” Nash grumbles.

  He’s dressed, looking every bit like a man who spent the night sleeping and fucking in his truck. And he looks great despite it. Ruffled, but rugged. There’s a scowl on his face, but I wouldn’t expect anything else, considering the pounding that’s going on inside my own head any time anything makes the slightest noise.

  Or any light shines in my direction.

  Or I have to move.

  Like now.

  God damn.

  I think I can feel the rotation of the earth and it’s making me nauseous.

  Slow this shit down.

  I sit up and shift in my seat, trying to get comfortable. I buckle my seatbelt, even though the movement hurts like hell, because I think I might still be a bit drunk and, if I’m feeling it, Nash might be feeling it as well.

  “What time is it?” I say.

  “Time to move.”