by Warren, Rie
“You’re turning into a sexy little hedonist.” He scattered a line of kisses from my neck to my collarbone. “I think Nawleans suits you.”
“Well.” I harrumphed, sitting up to adjust my top. “I thought you were gonna make me wait forever.”
“Did you now?” Squeezing my bottom, he grinded slowly up into me. “Perish the fucking thought.” Then he swatted my ass. “But we better get outta here, cher. Don’t wanna get done for public indecency, and what I have in mind next is very indecent.”
Seventeen
Angel
A FAIS DO-DO . . .
One Saturday night late in August, the Thunder Road Bar opened out into the courtyard at Mercy’s insistence. There’d be a hell of a cleanup tomorrow, but that was Chase’s job. ’Sides, Mercy had done a bang-up job of transforming the square area. The courtyard was now in full bloom due to her TLC and green thumb. I’d even had Chase clear away the ‘gun range’ so none of the yahoos got any funny ideas with concealed weapons. It was bad enough Slade and Mercy still had an ongoing rivalry using their knives on the dartboard inside. The bragging rights on that one changed weekly.
What my Mercy wanted, she got as long as it was in my power to give it to her.
And I definitely planned on giving it to her. Real soon.
Purplish evening light blanketed the sky while the hipster parade flooded the courtyard, toting drinks and instruments, food and of course their hookahs.
I searched the growing crowd for Mercy as a few of the man bun contingency tuned up in one corner. One of the bearded wonders strummed a banjo, another revealed a fiddle, and the quartet rounded out with a washboard and—I kid you not—a kazoo.
I finally located my woman. She laughed with Demi at one of the little wrought iron tables, both of them sipping beers. From their first meeting when I thought we’d have to break up a catfight, they’d actually become good friends. Demi even knew about the brand, which was now fully covered in an amazing galactic tattoo Saint had artistically designed. I grudgingly gave him credit.
Mercy had recovered from her ordeal of forced drudgery and drugging. She’d refused to see a therapist about the rapes, but I knew she’d talked to Mamere. In fact, we were out at the bayou at least once a week, and Mercy often ventured there on her own. Part of the reason was the dogs—Pit and Bull. After both had been thoroughly examined, we’d decided the best place for them would be with Mamere for some R&R. At least for the time being, to make sure—after their trauma—they were fit to be around people.
Tonight though—dressed in a pretty sundress that showcased her sexy sun-kissed figure and her hot as hell tats—Mercy was barefoot and happy. And—fuck—I wanted her barefoot, happy, and pregnant.
Yeah, I’d definitely been bitten.
I hadn’t gone bareback in her yet, but we’d finally gotten the all clear from her tests, and I . . . could . . . not . . . wait.
Ambling toward her table, I fist-bumped Saint on the way. “You flying solo tonight or what?”
“Cous, I’ve got babes on speed dial.” He cupped his junk. “I’m giving my balls a break.”
“Charming.”
“Hey, I can be charming as fuck. Just ask Mercy.”
The bastard knew exactly how to get me hot under the collar, but I wasn’t taking the bait.
“Too bad for you she’s taken. Forever.”
“Bien, bien.” A grin transformed his hard features, and he slapped me on the back. “You got lucky. No arguing about that.”
Slipping up behind Mercy’s seat, I set my palms on her bare shoulders.
She tipped her head back to give me an upside-down smile. Then she slinked from her seat and snaked her arms around my neck.
“Ah’ve been looking for you.” Happiness radiated off her like rays of the sun.
And her lilting accent had always and would always spike pure need inside of me.
“I was watching you.” I closed my palms over her sweetheart ass.
Watching her in her element. Basking in her gloriousness. Her body filled out, her tits perfect handfuls, her nutmeg-colored eyes bright, her honey-blonde hair shiny . . .
“Oooh. Are you stalking me?” she asked, lips pursed in a delicate moue.
“Yep. Are you scared?” I rubbed a thumb across her mouth.
“Not one single bit.”
“C’mere.”
Lifting her up to her tiptoes and tipping her into my body, I swooped down. My lips parted hers, tongue dandling to tease and toy with hers. She gripped my shoulders, fingers digging into muscle. And I held her directly against my hard-on while I devoured her mouth.
“Gaaaah.” Demi’s chair screeched across flagstones as she muttered her apparent disgust.
Tearing my lips off Mercy’s, I glanced at the woman who’d once aimed to be my bedmate. “What?”
“If I didn’t like both of y’all so much I’d be vurping up my beer right now.”
“Vurp?” Mercy wrinkled her nose, arms still ringed around me.
“Vomit and burp,” Demi clarified.
“Yeah, I did not need that visual.” I tried to blank out the idea.
Demi stood up. “I think I’ll take myself elsewhere unless you two want to go find a dark corner.”
Hands circling Mercy’s waist, I rocked against her. “I’m down for finding a dark corner.”
“I can feel that,” Mercy whispered, looping one leg higher so my rigid erection surely found her sweet spot.
“You’re gonna feel it a whole lot more later.” I snuck down to her ear, tongue outlining the soft lobe. “With nothing between us.
A deep shudder worked through her entire body, and she inhaled shakily.
“Angel . . .” Her utterance was part moan, part plea.
My voice turned gravelly. “What, cher?”
“I’m not wearing a bra—”
I growled. “When are you ever?”
Fuck, I loved how free she was.
“And everyone will see my body’s natural reaction to you.”
My gaze dipped to her low bodice and the hills of her breasts below. Sure enough, her nipples had hardened into exquisite peaks, and I wanted to lash the budded flesh with my tongue.
I swallowed hard.
I yanked on the sheaf of her hair to kiss her again when Chase—for real on a megaphone that time—blasted out, “Pussy drink for the Man Bun with the kazoo!”
Mercy nestled her face against my chest, laughter shaking her shoulders.
“Fucking mood killer.” I gnashed the words between my teeth.
Meanwhile Mercy kept giggling, even wiping tears from her eyes as a smile danced across her lips. “I love it here.”
“I love you.” I went for her lips again—because what the hell could be more romantic than shouts for pussy drinks and hipsters and a man playing a child’s toy like it was a serious instrument?
Mercy held me off. “Don’t you have a pussy drink to go make?”
“That’s usually Slade or the probie’s job.”
“I haven’t seen Slade yet tonight.” Worry shaded her eyes. “He won’t stop the search for Grace.”
Cupping Mercy’s cheek in my palm, I caressed her. “I’m sorry she’s still nowhere to be found.”
“Go.” She kissed me on the jaw, humming against my skin before dropping back. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be better than fine.”
I turned toward the makeshift outdoor bar, and Mercy goddamn goosed my ass!
I shot a hot look back at her.
She merely blew a kiss coupled with a lascivious wink.
I knew she’d be better than fine. She already was.
Because she didn’t want to be a freeloader, she’d already landed a job at a local garden nursery—right up her alley. She was in her element, working outdoors, nurturing plants, sharing her extensive knowledge.
I knew there’d be dark days ahead, just like there’d been dark nights, black times, the bleakest of bleak moments. There’d still be night terrors and stra
nge reactions and all the worst memories to contend with.
I sure as hell wasn’t naïve when it came to Mercy Cooper.
But for the first time, normalcy made a welcome change of pace. Our relationship had been built on danger, survival, death, and . . . limitless hope.
Neither one of us had been whole apart.
Together we made some sort of cosmic sense—not that I was breaking out the tarot cards or anything, but . . .
Angel and Mercy.
So there I was—completely in love like I said I’d never be—friggin’ concocting a pussy drink from our cheapest liquor. I prettied that shit up with an olive and a wedge of orange and a sprig of some herb-thing Mercy had planted.
I handed the piss-colored mixture to the beard-o, and that dude shoved a fiver into the tip jar.
Un-freakin’-believable. We couldn’t even market this shit if we tried, which we never had.
Turned out, we didn’t need to ’cause they all pimped the hell outta Thunder Road Bar on their Instawhatever and their Snapshit and their Fuckbook.
We even had five star Yelp reviews.
Revenge finally made an appearance, strolling into the compound. I did a damn double take because the dude for real had a pair of bleach blonde identical twins plastered against either side of him. The blondies jockeyed for prime position on his lap when he settled into a chair that looked about to buckle under his towering frame.
“It’s like those old Doublemint gum commercials, am I right?” he yelled out, an arm casually slung around the buxom babes.
I could only shake my head. But he was happy as a pig in shit. His dreams had come true.
Jesus.
Lennox ambled over to where I still manned the bar while Chase did a quick trash sweep.
The big bruiser leaned an elbow on the top and glanced across the courtyard at Revenge holding court with his Doublemint Twins. “Don’t know how the chicks put up with him.”
“I think they just put out for him
We met for a knuckle bump.
Then a pretty brunette wearing a half slashed Harley T-shirt approached us. She smiled sweetly up at Lennox who loomed above her.
“Buy me a drink?” she asked in an inviting tone.
Lennox stared down at the petite little thing, mouth agape until I knocked him on the shoulder.
He snapped his lips shut then frowned then did a furtive head-to-toe sweep of the cute bundle of female flesh in front of him.
“Who? Me?” he stammered.
She giggled. “Yes, you. Unless I’m not your type?”
His frown burrowed deeper. “I think you’d be about anyone’s type.”
“So . . . that drink?”
“Sure. Uh . . .”
I slid a fresh beer neatly into his hand.
Big bruiser? More like a damn pussycat.
And I was all eyes and ears as the girl worked a mysterious spell on the man.
“I’m Charlie,” she said when she accepted the beer.
“Lennox.” He finally seemed to have found his tongue.
“Oooh.” Charlie’s hands roamed up the big guns of his biceps. “Like the boxer?”
And he fucking blushed.
Having missed the entire episode, Chase returned from his maid duties.
Such a good probie.
And the scene was set to add to the night’s entertainment. Only Slade was missing, but I didn’t wanna wait any longer.
I blew out a shrill whistle, calling for attention, which meant Mr. Kazoo needed to stow his pipe.
Mercy sauntered over, long hair fanning across one shoulder and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
I kissed her softly, squeezing her ass for good measure.
When I released her lips, she purred.
Then she asked, “What are you up to, Angel L’Esperance?”
“You’ll see, Miss Mercy Cooper.” I winked at her then bellowed across the buzzing crowd, “Attention! Got a special presentation tonight.”
Revenge dragged Chase from behind the bar. Poor sucker had to think he was about to get patched through.
I almost couldn’t contain my grin. “You all know Chase here as the dude who mixes up your pussy cocktails—”
Louds shouts and cheers interrupted my announcement. I waited for the claps and cackles to die down.
“Tonight, Chase here gets the Thunder Road MVP award. Most Valuable Prospect!”
His face fell. “Pic kee toi! I’m the only fucking prospect.”
“You don’t want your prize?” I squinted at him.
It looked like steam was about to pour from his ears. “Whatever.”
I nodded to Saint who passed me the award all wrapped up in brown paper.
Tearing off the packaging, I presented Chase with . . . a brand new toilet plunger. “’Cause I bet the toilets are gonna get backed the hell up tonight. Sol’s trying out a new recipe.”
Raucous laughter joined the sound of fists banging on tables.
Chase wasn’t nearly as amused. He gripped the handle of the plunger like it was my neck and he was about to throttle me.
I merely grinned wider.
“You’re an asshole,” he muttered.
“Savage, Prez.” Saint slapped me on the back.
“Harsh burn, man.” Lennox smirked.
Mercy planted her hands on her hips. “That was kind of mean.”
“Yeah.” And I was feeling mighty smug about it too.
“Angel!” Mercy stomped her foot . . . in the flip-flops she’d put on.
Revenge had an arm around each blonde bunny again as he heckled, “Is the prospect gonna cry? Does he have PMS?”
“We’ll see how much you fucking cry when I shove this plunger up your ass,” Chase slung back at him.
“Respect.” Saint slapped Chase’s back next.
“Ass play? I like it. It tickles.” And that was Revenge. Badass. Nothing fazed him.
Chase went back to grumbling behind the bar—tossing out more threats about the toilet plunger.
The party revved back up, and I was getting ready to swing Mercy into a dance when Slade finally showed his face.
He grabbed a beer and guzzled it down in one long gulp.
With dark circles beneath his eyes and a slight gauntness to his cheeks, he looked like shit warmed over.
“Still haven’t been able to locate Grace.” He bowed his head into both hands then rubbed his palms down his face.
Mercy touched his arm. “She’s a survivor, Killian.”
His eyebrows arched up.
“Is it okay to use your given name?”
“Just because it’s you, Mercy.” He plastered on a grimace, which to any other person was meant to be a smile.
I hauled him aside. He’d run himself ragged everyday ever since Grace’s disappearance two months ago, looking more and more grim. I thought we were buddies, that I knew the man. But in reality—even with what little I’d gleaned from Walker and Storm through their extensive contacts with the Retribution MC in South Carolina—he remained one big ball of mystery.
“I know you promised Mercy you’d find Grace, but it doesn’t make any sense driving yourself into the ground like this.”
“It’s not just about Grace.” He stopped himself from saying anything else, lips curling together and clamming up completely.
See? One big mystery.
His lips flicked into a taut smile around his hand-rolled smoke. “Maybe I’ll go get a pussy drink.”
“I’d like to see that, Veep.”
He wandered off, and I got the distinct impression he’d never give up the search for Grace.
Speaking of disappearing acts, Mercy had gotten lost in the crowd again.
For once—and finally—I didn’t have to worry about her.
Her family had gone down.
There’d be no more nights spent half out of my mind because I didn’t know where she was or what was happening to her.
I didn’t have to worry about her, but
I still had a promise to fulfill. Getting her into my bed as soon as possible so I could fuck her with nothing between us.
I searched around the enclosed courtyard, and there she was.
Dancing.
Her head thrown back and her twining arms lifted to the night sky, she spun around in a hypnotic circle, led by the undulations of her hips and the slow shimmy of her breasts.
Mon Dieu. She took my breath clean away.
Her shoulders swung and her hair flew and she had her eyes closed, a curving smile on her lips.
She looked liberated.
Sensual.
Earthy.
I wanted her.
I wondered if she felt the blazing heat of my stare, because her eyes fluttered open. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. One strap of her dress slipped off her shoulder so the bodice drooped a little lower over the ripe mound of her breast.
Tilting her head, she hit me with her own lusty look.
She beckoned me to her.
I stalked her way in a wide circle, and she turned with me, tracking my prowling approach.
She only pivoted away with a sultry laugh when I closed the last remaining space between us. Openly grinding her plush ass against me, she slid her body up and down. I wrapped one arm around her waist and skimmed my other palm up her arm, over the shooting stars.
Chills shot off in the wake of my fingers on her warm flesh.
Pushed tightly against her, I bent my knees. I swiveled with her, cock throbbing against her bottom.
We didn’t say a word.
We didn’t need to.
Heat fired between us, and I reached up to brush the underside of one proud tit.
Mercy moaned, rounding her hips in tighter circles.
I scooped her hair aside and teased the delicate skin of her neck with soft lashes of my tongue.
“Get out the fire extinguishers!” Someone yelled.
“Dayumn. It’s gettin’ hot up in here.” That was definitely Saint.
“Maybe they should just get a room.”
“Dark corner!” And that was Demi.
Mercy continued to knock the breath from my body and drive the blood to my super-engorged cock with the type of sultry moves she most definitely hadn’t plied on me during our first date at Jack’s Place.
Then she spun into my embrace and began to ride along the hard ridge of my thigh with a pussy that felt hot and wet even through our clothing.