Dirty Salvation (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga Book 1)

by V. Theia

  Not to mention the sinful mouth she couldn't stop looking at or wanting to kiss again.

  "How many girlfriends have you had in the past three years? not including that hungry she-devil on her knees in front of you swallowing your dick like she was practicing for a pie eating contest." She plucked at a curious question.

  She watched his eyes widen before a laugh barreled out of him. Zara smiled a little with uncritical satisfaction to have surprised him.

  He propped his hip against the chrome bar, facing her, strands of chocolate brown hair not caught up in his bun hung down by his beard. She did the decent thing by reaching a hand up tucking them behind his ear.

  He caught her hand, keeping it in his loosely, his thumbs working against her knuckles. Intense eyes on her face.

  "Oh, fuck me, Icy, don't say dick like that, not if you don't wanna be spread out on this bar." Zara coughed and spluttered choking on her drink. "I'm never gonna live that shit down, am I? She didn't suck my cock, baby, god’s honest truth."

  Zara lifted one of her brows staying quiet. He went on.

  "It was a dumb as fuck move. I'd already dirtied you up, hadn't I? ripped all those orgasms out of you the night before, all sweet and begging. You were so wet, fuck, I could still taste you on my tongue the next day."

  Her thighs clenched. Still, she didn't say a word, hardly breathed through his thumb brushing against her skin. It felt like small fires were licking her fingers.

  "Dumb as fuck move, Icy. I knew you'd come to the club again to see me, one of my boys told me you were askin’ around for me. I told that chick to get on her knees before havin’ you sent over to the office, wanted to chase you off, didn't want to dirty you anymore, you had big plans, you told me when you were all soft and soaked in my pleasure. You were heading to law school. That wasn't gonna mix well with my club ... and ... Jesus. "

  Rider paused to lift her hand to his mouth, giving the same attention only this time to let his lips move over her fingertips, one slow move at a time, each knuckle basking in his attention.

  She tried to pull it back and he stopped her by pressing his mouth to the center of her palm.

  "You rocked my foundations, baby, down to the core, I was fuckin' scared of that feelin'. I wanted to keep you, knew it the second I saw you in that teeny tiny yellow dress lookin’ like sunshine and temptation, my cock achin’ for you, I wanted you, but too much shit was goin’ down with my club, couldn’t keep you then, I thought I was doin’ the decent thing when in actuality it was a shitty move."

  So much admission, Zara's mouth once full of soda suddenly dried on a hard gulp. The sips of cola feeling like sawdust in her belly.

  Her eyes searching his face for any hint of a lie.

  "It doesn't matter now."

  "It does if you're still lookin’ at me the same way you did three years ago, like I crushed you. It was a shitty thing for me to do. I'm sorry, Zara."

  “Apology accepted, but it really doesn’t matter, Rider.”

  Zara shrugged, pulling her hand free at last, she rubbed at the tingles in her palm feeling his kiss there.

  "Zara baby. Look at me."

  "It's over, Rider, it doesn't matter why you did it, or why I believed what I was seeing. We didn't know each other or owe each other anything. Look…I. I should get back to----"

  He growled low. "Baby. I need you to fuckin’ look at me now."

  He'd wanted to keep her.

  Why was she choking on all those 'What If's' again?

  Rather than let Rider see her eyes as they filled with tears and emotions, she turned away. His curse pulled her attention long enough for her to watch him using his hands braced to the bar and vault cleanly over it in one swift move landing deftly on his feet directly in front of her.

  He didn't stop there, his large body crowded her until she had no choice but to back up and up ... her spine pressed against the ridge of the bar.

  "Rider, stop. Back up. I have things I need to be doing." Weak excuse.

  Goosebumps rose on her bare arms, acutely aware of his eyes raking down her body, the stare made her nipples pebble with want. No part of him was touching Zara, still, she felt him right there, as if his mouth was caressing her. He cranked his head down, really staring at her, impatience lighting up his eyes, his jaw tight like he was gauging every word before he spoke it.

  "Did you hear anythin’ I said in the last hour while I poured my guts out, Zara? You keep me locked out of you, I can't penetrate that fuckin' wall no matter what I do. You don't talk, you barely answer if I ask you somethin'. You've ghosted around for days. I've met sociopaths with better conversational skills." A growl came out of him.

  And with the scorching memory of him leaping the bar as easily as a gymnast, the sexy growl was just the cherry on her Rider sundae.

  Every part of Zara ached for him.

  Steely determination made her lift her head.

  "Well thank you for that, mister sensitivity, I'm one rung down from a sociopath, don't tell your VP, he likes his title." Her go to setting of defensive back-talk and sarcasm was obviously switched on.

  "I heard everything you said. You're overwhelming, Rider. You don't get just how much. you're all ... and then ... just. Ugh, and now you're telling me all this out of the blue expecting me to agree with no thought given whatsoever. You're just too much and I don't know what you want me to say. It’s kind of absurd really. We don't even know each other."

  Rider shifted forward suddenly, crowding her with his bulk and height and his glorious beard just right there in front of her face distracting as hell, only this time pressing his belly against her body, his hips came next, the distinct hardness digging through his jeans, into her belly.

  Oh. Sweet. God.

  In tandem, her lungs began to hyperventilate.

  "This is what I mean. Back the hell up. I can't breathe. You're overwhelming me!"

  "No, I'm not, baby." A voice smooth and silky. So assured of what he was saying he was smirking with it. "You're turned the fuck on by me. You think I don't know when my girl is wanting her man to fuck her."

  I’m not your girl. Her tongue was too thick in her mouth to speak it. Hands circled his trim waist with plans to push him back, only he was a solid mass, unmoveable.

  Rider leaned more into her space, his head coming down another fraction, his cheek brushed hers, soft bristled hair on her cheek, oh... she knew it would feel nice.

  Lips gently skimming.

  If she angled up towards him, it was only to tell him to back off. Probably. He smelled good so it messed with her thinking for a second. And then another.

  She felt his hands, one at her hip, the other slid around the back of her neck, tipping her head back so they were eye-to-eye.

  “You’re---you’re not my man." the place between her legs pulsed. Her man. Oh, Jesus. "This is crazy. We don't know each other, Rider. Too much time has--"

  His rugged masculinity hit her hard all at once. The sheer mass of him towering down over her. Or maybe that was the way he rubbed his hardness into her belly scrambling her brain.

  "You want me to be your man? Get to know me? Let me in, baby. Just a little way in. You don't haveta hide from me." The double meaning wasn't lost on Zara. Her mouth turned sand-dry. She slipped her tongue tip out to lick her lips wetting them.

  His eyes darted down to her mouth and he groaned. “Killin’ me…” Long fingers came up to tangle in her hair, caressing her scalp. Tempting her. “Fuckin’ say it, Zara. I see it in your eyes.”

  It might have been the soda’s effect, but Zara felt drunk.

  Drunk on affection from the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.

  “This is happenin’, baby. Don’t argue with me…”

  And like that Rider had shut down any more conversation.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “I’d burn the goddamn world down if I thought it would make her less broken.” – Rider

  Now, Zara knew just how stubborn of a man Rider really wa
s. Not that it came as any surprise, the president, after all, would have his way with all things, it was why he sat at the head of the table, and why his boys followed his orders. Stubborn. Bossy.

  Temptation perched on her shoulder like a fat devil whispering how much she wanted this man.

  Equally, her fear came home to roost, ultimately, she listened to the latter because it had won out every single day for three years so how could she expect to be different now, wrenching out of his grasp before the way he was rubbing his lower half of his body drove her mad.

  She was inhaling hard, her eyes drawn down hooded, almost ashamed, clouded with emotions she didn't want to face or speak about. "You're unbelievable," she said and grunted when he only smirked at her. "It's not a compliment, Rider. No! Don't you come near me right now.” I can't think when you're near. "I will clean your clock. I mean it."

  One hundred megawatt grin pointed at Zara, but as she'd warned Rider didn't advance forward. His body language said all he needed to, he was feeling smug that he'd affected her.

  "That's some sexy talk, baby."

  He made her heart flutter.

  But, nothing had changed in the last hour to think she could ever be with him again. She was fucked up. Suffocating inside her own mind.

  Damaged was as damage does, so Forrest Gump had said, or something to that effect.

  "Why don't you explain what the problem is? You want me."

  I do not. The lie wouldn't fall off her tongue. Instead, she backed up, grateful of the sudden noise of men arriving back to the clubhouse. A stomp of feet and deep voices, she saw them pile through the door. Rider's eyes narrowed when he saw her retreating towards the private rooms. "Icy..." his voice warned. "This is not over. Don't fuckin' run away from a conversation, are you a coward now after everythin'?"

  She threw him a scowl. "Not cool."

  "None." His growl low for her ears only.

  "What?" she blinked confused by his change of direction.

  "You asked how many girlfriends I've had since we fucked each other. I never wanted an old lady, baby. Now I do."

  Now he did.

  Now. He. Did.

  ******

  Rider saw the moment Zara was going to bolt. She was breathing so fucking hard he could see the heave of her tits, he tracked the motion greedily, his gaze lapping at her in-lieu of his tongue that whetted to lick the sweetest tasting peaks again, but fuck it to hell, she was withdrawing from him, her eyes erratic and wide shaking her head from side to side.

  He was losing this argument. Losing her before he even had her.

  He was pushing, he knew it, much too fucking soon, but his chest ached to see her afraid of her own shadow, he'd never aspired to take care of anyone, now that's all he could think about until his back teeth ached from the fucking control it took not to take her over.

  His club had been swarmed in cops asking too many questions just a few hours ago, that should have been the priority, and here he was getting in touch with his feelings with a woman who was all about avoiding him.

  He didn't like it.

  “Listen to me. You’ve had a long week so shit seems a little worse than it really is. This isn't anything to get your panties in a knot over." behind him, his brothers laughed their way into the common room, but it was Zara who had his eyes. Dark persuading eyes that didn't even want to blink and break their contact, she was a bolting gazelle. "Zara..." she didn't listen to his warning tone.

  "Rider. This is too much. I need to think; you--- I can't think when you're around. Just leave me alone, okay? You're asking for something I don't have."

  It was her please spoken in a small defeated voice that tore at him the most and he found his jaw growing tight, a thick lump in his throat when he nodded agreement, though it killed him, eyes tracking her as she spun around, walking off quickly down the long corridor that led to his room.

  He recognized her escape for what it was; survival instincts.

  "Motherfucker...goddamnit" His face showed disappointment.

  Fists clenched at his side. Hadn't he just fucked that up royally?

  He couldn't have done better if he'd tried with both fucking feet shoved in his trap.

  "Trouble in paradise, Ri? You had a lover’s tiff already?"

  Rider rounded on Hawk, saw his nasty smile underneath his thick bushy beard. He'd never wanted to knock his friend out.

  Now was a great fucking time to start.

  He pointed a finger, snarled showing all his clenched teeth. "Don't you have shit to do, little girls, to terrorize? bad moods to perfect? fuck off, Hawk."

  And just like he'd seen his girl do, Rider prowled off in the other direction leaving his VP none the wiser to his piss-poor mood only that he'd guessed correctly, his first lovers tiff.

  Later that night bored of his own company, the hog he'd been working on was complete as much as it could be without the part he needed, and Ken over at the J&D supply store Rider used regularly for bike parts couldn't FEDEX it over until tomorrow at the earliest. Fuck it, Rider decided he was done for the night, shoving his overalls down his legs, he tossed them onto one of the work benches. Next, he scrubbed his hands with the dish soap that was good for cutting through the grease and oil.

  Significant conversation fails aside; it hadn't been a complete waste of a day. Grinder had checked in a couple of times, his sources had had little to say on who was being looked at for the Rebel's murders, but the crime was getting a lot of heat from the DA to finger someone.

  Just as long as it wasn't him or his club he was fine with whoever went down for it.

  As for Hades, that fucking Houdini had gone to the wind, he could be anywhere, but if he was to be located then Rider's expert tracker would do it. Grinder had grown up with a father and uncle bounty hunters, he had the gift, he'd once chased a man clean across the country for a simple seventy-five-dollar debt, just because Grinder could.

  Rider had told his brother to stay in close contact, if there was talk anywhere of anyone harboring Hades then he wanted to know about it. It wasn't just club business anymore, it got personal the second Zara was involved.

  It was way too soon, she'd said. What was too soon, his desire, his want to bury his cock deep into her? He could trace that back three years, wanted her from the moment he saw her. Why the fuck had he been so dense turning her away. Would she be his old lady now if he hadn't punked out if he'd followed through and seen where their heat could take them?

  As much as he wanted to think yes, that she'd be in his bed all this time later, realistically Rider had known he had no room back then for a woman in his life, he’d been in the middle of a hard battle from within his own club, stragglers from the last regime had still been making waves for Rider.

  No, fucking no. I would have kept her regardless of all that.

  It was a feeling, a sense of rightness. He would have kept her. Motherfucker.

  Dumb as piss move.

  He'd contributed to what happened. Knew it. Felt it.

  Someone had taken her. All that time she hadn't been studying law, making the world a better place, spreading her sunshine to the masses. Goddamn, he could take someone apart with his bare hands if he let himself dwell on that massive fucking fact that she was just a few towns over this whole motherfucking time having god knows what done to her.

  He fired the towel onto the workbench after drying his hands vigorously. Venom boiling his gut. He needed a lot of things, but he was gonna settle for a drink and a steak.

  Definitely going to leave Zara alone.

  That's what she wants.

  So why then was he stalking down that hallway once he'd made his way across into the club? Why had he ignored the wave over from several brothers, jutting his chin letting them know he had other shit to do? why was he outside his fucking room?

  Goddamn, his Icy girl had a hold on him.

  A strong unrelenting vise.

  He could hear the shower going when he let himself inside. So much for confron
ting her again. Rider shrugged out of his cut, taking the time to slide it on a hanger and put it inside the closet. He might be a dirty outlaw with next to no morals but he took care of his president’s cut like it was his fucking baby.

  Five minutes. Ten minutes. His gaze pinned the bathroom door, eyes narrowed. What was taking so long?

  He prowled back and forth in his room like a tiger, bypassing all manners he didn't possess, he pushed his way in, prepared to just kick his head around the doorframe and yell that he wanted a damn shower this century, too.

  The reminder to himself to give her space came way too late.

  Just as well he was natural-born impatient bastard, because he didn’t wait even a minute more for Zara to emerge from the bathroom, he muttered “fuck this” to himself, intending to have it out with her without her running off this time, nowhere for beautiful little Icy to run to, so he paced to the door, pushing it open to be greeted by a plume of steam full in the face hot enough it could set off every fire alarm, looked through the glass door as Zara tore into her own body scrubbing so furiously his brows folded down, the stink of her sadness hitting him full in the face.

  How fucking stupid of him to believe she was doing okay. Of course, she wasn't.

  He'd believed she was just pissed with him.

  Wouldn't he have preferred that to what he was seeing?

  His broken girl.

  Goddammit, she was not fine.

  It was as though all her masks had crumbled and she was suffering with the aftermath beneath the spray of water where no one could hear her cries.

  He took the necessary steps, used the flat of his hand to slide the shower door open. Despite the water being hell hot, the heat even making Rider recoil back a little, she was shivering, shaking in her own skin and bones.

  She'd been lovely and curvy that one night together, each curve Rider had traced with his tongue and fingertips, he'd branded her on his brain until she'd festered there for months, years, each woman he'd been with afterward had been measured to Zara and came up short, to see her a fragile thing letting the beat of water batter her hair flat, cascading over bones barely encased in paper thin skin, such a fucking shadow of her former self...his gut wrenched.