Down & Dirty: Diesel (Dirty Angels MC Book 4)

by Jeanne St. James

  Bella was right, though. Diesel never went back for seconds. And definitely not for thirds. She wondered what D wanted from her. Or if he even knew what he wanted. Because it wasn’t just sex. It couldn’t be. He could get that anywhere and always had.

  As Jewel studied Diesel, she was determined to crack that hard outer shell. She just didn’t know how.

  She gave Bella a look, then skirted the dance floor to where D now stood by himself, a beer bottle hanging from two fingers. The whole way over to him, his intense eyes never left her.

  By the time she reached him, her pussy was throbbing, her nipples ached, and she was ready to climb onto his face.

  Wouldn’t that be entertaining at this celebration? Normally it wouldn’t be anything new at a club party for a sweet butt or one of Dawg’s girls, but none of the DAMC women had sex out in the open for everyone to watch.

  It would be a first.

  Jewel felt the heat land in her belly. Jesus. She couldn’t get enough of this man. Why did she get stuck on one that would be such a challenge? And a headache.

  “Just gonna stand there?” D asked gruffly.

  She lifted her gaze to his. “Nope.”

  “What do you want, woman?”

  “You know what I want,” she whispered.

  D raised his bottle to his lips and tipped it. Jewel watched his throat move as he swallowed. When he lowered the bottle his dark brown eyes hit hers. “Ain’t gettin’ it now, gotta keep a watch on shit.”

  “Right. Not now. Later,” she agreed softly.

  His eyes raked down her dress. “Got panties on?”

  “No.”

  “Bra?”

  “No.”

  “Fuck,” he growled. “You wet?”

  She smiled. “Yeah.”

  “Gonna fuckin’ eat you later,” he muttered.

  “Yeah,” she agreed, her thighs quivering at the thought.

  “Then I’m gonna spank your ass for not wearin’ panties ‘round all these brothers.”

  Jewel’s smile disappeared as she swallowed hard. Fuck, she wanted that. Her legs wobbled, making her reach out to catch her balance by planting her hand on his arm.

  His eyes dropped to where she held him.

  “Then I’m gonna—” he stopped abruptly.

  She swallowed again, her eyes hooded, her pussy clenching hard, her thighs getting slick with her arousal.

  “What?” she whispered. If he kept talking dirty to her she might just come where she stood.

  D held her gaze as he shook his head. “Gonna be a surprise.”

  Shit.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “Leave your door unlocked an’ that dress on.”

  “Yeah,” Jewel murmured as if she was in a trance. Every part of her body ached for his touch, for his tongue, for his cock.

  She needed to snap herself out of this. There were hours to go before this reception was over. That wait was going to be torture if she couldn’t get everything Diesel was going to do to her out of her mind.

  She shook her head to clear it. She glanced over her shoulder when Dirty Deed’s started a new song and she heard the women hooting and hollering on the dance floor. “Going to go dance.”

  “See you out there dancin’ with a Knight, that spankin’ ain’t gonna be fun. Promise you that.”

  She nodded, unable to answer.

  “See any of ‘em touchin’ you, woman, gonna be an issue.”

  She blinked at the look on his face.

  Jesus. He was dead serious.

  As she turned away from him, her daze cleared and she bit back her smile as she headed the direction she had come from.

  Looks like she had more than just tonight to look forward to.

  It seemed she had wormed her way under his skin enough that he may be laying his claim.

  Chapter Seven

  Diesel cursed and shoved at the paperwork on his desk. He couldn’t fucking concentrate. Not one bit.

  His mind kept going back to two nights ago at Jewel’s apartment. The night of Z and Sophie’s wedding.

  When he’d finally left the reception, almost everyone else had cleared out. He was one of the last to go and it had been late.

  He had no idea when Jewel had left. While he tried to keep an eye on her most of the evening, she’d disappear once in a while, pop up and then disappear again.

  Drove him fucking nuts.

  Every time he couldn’t catch a glimpse of her, he wondered what trouble she was up to, what man was talking to her, or who was trying to get a piece of that tail.

  By the end of the night he’d driven himself mad.

  So when he finally got to her apartment, he had let himself inside and stalked right to her room.

  And it surprised the fuck out of him when the woman had listened. She waited for him on her bed still wearing that red dress. And her high heels. After that night, that dress needed to be burned along with that short skirt of hers.

  Hell, he needed to go through her damn closet and make a bonfire.

  “About fucking time,” she grumbled.

  “How many times did you come already?” he asked, because the flush on her face certainly wasn’t from her being bored.

  “None.”

  “Bullshit,” he grunted as he slid his cut from his shoulders and threw it aside. “Lyin’ gets you some extra swats.”

  “Good,” she whispered.

  His head jerked as he stared down at her. Her blue eyes challenged him.

  “Can’t wait, can you?”

  “No,” she answered on a breath.

  His dick kicked in his jeans. All night he couldn’t stop thinking about smacking her ass until it was red and her cunt was soaked.

  He bent over, unzipped his boots, toed both them and his socks off, ripped off his T-shirt, unbuttoned his jeans but, at the last minute, decided to leave them on.

  It was only fair since he was leaving her dress on for what he had planned.

  He sat on the edge of her bed, grabbed her ankle and dragged her to him, then barked, “Over my lap.”

  And didn’t she fucking drape herself right over his fucking lap?

  The fuck she did, too.

  Her dress had ridden up her thighs and he could just see the bottom curve of her ass cheeks.

  “You seem happy to see me.”

  “No shit,” he grumbled as he traced a finger along the edge of that dress over the warm flesh of her ass that barely peeked out. “Gonna spank that ass.”

  “Yeah,” she whispered.

  He could not only feel but see the shiver that went through her. “Want it?”

  “Yeah,” she breathed.

  Fuck him.

  “Gonna wear dresses without panties again?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jesus fuckin’ Christ.

  Tucking a finger under the hem, he slowly pulled the bottom of the dress up over her ass until those perfect globes were right there at his fingertips.

  His palm itched to make contact, his dick painfully hard and leaking in his jeans.

  He slipped a finger down her crease and then through the slick wet of her cunt. “Want my dick?”

  “D,” she whispered. He’d take that as a yes.

  He circled and pressed her clit until she wiggled on his lap. Which did not make him lose his mind at all. No, it fucking didn’t.

  His cock was jammed uncomfortably in his jeans and he needed to get this show on the road.

  Like quickly.

  He grabbed her hair in one hand and tugged her head back until her neck arched. “Gonna spank your ass,” he announced again.

  “What the fuck, D! Just do it!” she shouted, a flush crawling up her stretched throat to her cheeks.

  He ignored her impatience, stopped playing with her pussy and then brushed his palm over her cheeks. They were so fucking perfect.

  He raised his hand and her whole body jerked in anticipation. He lifted his hand higher and she did it again.

  He looked at h
er face, pulled up by his hand gripping her hair, and she had her eyes squeezed shut.

  “Jewelee,” he said softly. Her eyes opened at her name and, when she wasn’t expecting it, his hand dropped, smacking her hard on her right cheek. She jerked in his lap as she yelped and he just about lost his load in his jeans.

  His balls were painfully tight as he smacked her again, the other cheek this time.

  She moaned and ground herself harder into his lap.

  Fuck. Him.

  Her fingers had a death grip on his thigh and when he spanked her a third time, her eyes rolled back. He jerked her hair harder.

  It took everything he had to ask, “Likin’ that?”

  “Fuck, D.” Her words came out husky and that turned him on even more.

  “Yeah you do.” His gaze roamed over her bare back in the dress, where the fabric gathered at her hips, then the red marks on her ass cheeks.

  Jesus, he wanted to sink his teeth into her round, soft flesh.

  “Gonna wear panties next time,” he stated.

  “No,” she groaned, shoving her hand underneath herself to find her own clit.

  Whap.

  “Gonna listen.”

  “No,” came her ragged whisper. Her fingers moved furiously.

  Whap.

  “D...”

  “Woman,” he warned.

  “Gonna come,” she said on a groan.

  Jesus, this woman.

  “Again,” she urged.

  Fuck him. His dick jerked with each strike and it throbbed violently, needing relief.

  Whap.

  He struggled to suck in a breath.

  “Again,” she demanded.

  Whap.

  He slowly let his breath back out.

  “Fuck,” she cried out. “Again!”

  Whap.

  “Coming,” she wailed.

  When her back arched even more, he grabbed her chin with his hand to twist her face toward him, bending over to take her mouth as she came. He swallowed her cries as her body jerked in his lap. After a moment, her body went lax and her hand stilled. He released her hair and she went boneless, her eyes shut, her lips parted as she panted.

  Nobody was ever going to see her this satisfied again. Nobody but him.

  No one else was going to taste her, touch her, fuck her, kiss her or...

  Fuck him.

  He was so fucking fucked.

  “What’re you doin’ to me, Jewelee?” he muttered under his breath before he could stop himself.

  She turned her head to look up at him with her gorgeous blue eyes. “Nothing you don’t want done,” she answered.

  Fuck him, she was right.

  After fucking her three times that night, he now sat there in his office unable to keep his mind on what he needed to because he couldn’t wipe out that memory. The whole thing played in his mind on a continuous loop.

  Business was not on his fucking mind.

  Jewelee was.

  When he finally got around to forcing himself from her bed that night, she had been wrapped up in a sheet, everything about her relaxed and satisfied, her eyes soft and sleepy while she watched him dress.

  Not once did she ask him to stay.

  Not a peep.

  And if she had asked, or even begged, he wouldn’t have anyway.

  Because he was so fucking fucked.

  When he walked out of her bedroom and then her apartment, his feet felt as though he was stuck in quicksand. His boots were heavier than normal and it was hard to move himself forward.

  He wanted to turn around, rip off his clothes and slide back into bed with her, wrapping her up in his arms and holding tight.

  He had to argue with himself to keep moving, to step outside, to take a deep breath to suck in the cool night air, to put his ass on his sled and go back to church.

  That was where he belonged, not in Jewel’s bed.

  Because it was dangerous. And he was so fucking close to being caught, done, trapped forever. He teetered on that edge and if he fell he would be finished.

  It wasn’t just these feelings he was afraid of. It was the power that Jewel would have over him. And the power his current and future enemies would have over him when it came to Jewel. She could be used very easily as a pawn if they knew what she meant to him.

  And that shit couldn’t happen.

  He couldn’t let it.

  “Boss,” came a deep voice from the open doorway of his office. He dropped his hands from his face and looked up at Mercy.

  “Yeah,” D answered with a chin lift, an unspoken invitation into his office.

  Mercy was one scary motherfucker. Almost as big as D, he had a noticeable scar that ran diagonally across his face that made him look it, too. He was not only one of his best Shadows but one who’d been with him the longest. The former Delta Force operator had skills like no one else.

  Some D didn’t even know about. And he probably didn’t want to, either.

  “Got intel on those motherfuckers.”

  D straightened in his chair. “Thought you were guardin’ that NFL douchebag?”

  “Was. Night off. Walker took my spot.”

  D nodded. “Night off but you went huntin’ Warriors?”

  “Yeah.” He stepped closer to D’s desk, his fists pinned to his thighs. “Can’t get that shit I saw out of my head.”

  D said nothing because he understood it. Mercy was with him when he found Kiki and Jazz in that shithole of a house. The sight affected his men as much as it had affected Diesel. And his crew had seen some bad shit during their stints as special forces.

  “Shoulda got ‘em that night,” Mercy said. Though his voice was soft, his expression was not and his eyes were diamond hard.

  “Yeah.” But they didn’t. “Whataya got?”

  “Out of PA, that’s for sure. Heard chatter that they were in West Virginia, then Kentucky. Heard they may be headin’ back this direction. Last known location was twenty klicks south of the Mason-Dixon.”

  “Gonna hit us again,” D stated, then scrubbed his palm over his head. He sucked in a breath.

  “Could be.”

  “Least they didn’t hit Z’s weddin’.”

  “Too risky. You did right by gettin’ the Knights involved an’ makin’ it known ahead of time.”

  “Yeah,” D grunted.

  “Gonna come in quiet. When you least expect it.”

  D didn’t answer. Mercy was right. Those fuckers knew both the Angels and the Knights were waiting for them to show up. So if they tried to hit DAMC again, they’d have to do it stealth-like. Though, he wasn’t sure if those dumb fuckers were capable of that.

  Even so, D wasn’t sure how to protect everyone and all the businesses, too. They were too widespread throughout town. And not only were the brothers independent, so were the women. Which made them easy targets.

  Even the brothers who had ol’ ladies couldn’t watch them twenty-four seven.

  If it was up to him, he’d have everyone moving into church or, at least, out to Ace’s farm. Keep everyone close. Keep an eye out. Unfortunately, no one would go for that nor would it be practical. Also, the fact was the beef between the two clubs had been going on so long, it may never end. Even if he could get everyone at one location he couldn’t keep them there forever.

  The only way to keep everyone safe would be to take every last Warrior out.

  Every last fucking one.

  He wasn’t even sure that was possible. Being nomads, D never could get a good read on how many there were. They were always adding prospects and patching in new members. Like that pencil dick Squirrel.

  D had kicked his ass, then kicked him out of the club for disrespecting Ivy. Then the useless piece of shit went on to join up with their enemy. And even worse, was involved in the violent assault on the women.

  Even as classy as Kiki was, he was sure she wanted a piece of Squirrel herself. Hawk was in line, too, and D had promised his brother that he’d keep both the prospect and that B
lack Jack asshole breathing once they located them so Hawk could get his pound of flesh from their asses.

  Truth was, Diesel wasn’t sure if he’d let his brother do that. He didn’t want Hawk ending up back in jail, torn away from the club, torn away from his woman. D had better ways to handle revenge. And his crew was chomping at the bit to help with that.

  His cell phone vibrated on his desk and the screen lit up. Both sets of eyes dropped to the picture that popped up on the screen. And, fuck him, if it wasn’t Jewel sending him a picture of herself in a very compromising position.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, snagging the phone quickly and hitting the power button so the screen went dark.

  “Damn,” Mercy responded. His eyes tipped back up to his, the corners of his lips curling just slightly. “She yours?”

  D scrubbed an agitated hand over the whiskers along his jaw. He forgot to shave this morning since he apparently had other things on his mind. And the woman who just showed her fucking goods to one of his crew was one of them.

  She must need another lesson.

  Which he’d be happy to give to her.

  When D didn’t answer him, a surprised look crossed Mercy’s scarred face. “Hold up. Was that Jag’s sister?”

  “Yeah. An’ you didn’t just see shit,” D finally stated, his eyes narrowed on his man.

  Mercy nodded, now amused. “Got you, boss. Didn’t just see shit.”

  “Right,” D grunted.

  “Should get outta here if you got that hot number waitin’ on you.”

  D’s nostrils flared and his back straightened. “Watch yourself. Got me?”

  Mercy’s lips now curved into a full smile. “Got you. I’m out. Gonna go hit some local bars an’ listen for news.”

  “Ain’t on the clock, brother,” D reminded him.

  “Like I said, can’t get that shit outta my mind. Willin’ to help on my own time. Plus, could use a drink.”

  D lifted his chin in thanks and Mercy gave him one of his own before spinning on his heel and striding out the door.

  “An’ I need to find somethin’ like that for myself,” he tossed over his shoulder.

  D could hear him chuckling while traveling down the hall.

  Shit.

  As soon as he knew Mercy was out of range, D hit the power button on his phone and studied the picture. Jewel was on her bed, legs spread, fingers on her clit, hand cupping her tit, eyes hooded, mouth parted. And the fucking picture was a reflection of all that in the mirror above her bed so, of course, she was easily identifiable.