Puck's Property: A Bad Boy Biker Romance (The Demon Squad MC Book 5)

by Monique Moreau

  “I don’t think so,” she replied, a stubborn tilt to her chin. A challenge. God, that got his blood stirring, and his cock.

  “C’mere,” he crooked his finger at her.

  “What? No!” she protested.

  “Come on. It won’t be so bad. You’ll see. Maybe you can pretend to forget what it was like between the two of us, but I haven’t forgotten a damn thing. Let me remind you. Might change your mind.”

  Ava squeezed her eyes shut and gritted out between clenched teeth, “I don’t want my mind changed.”

  “Ava,” He growled low. It was the tone he used on Sammi when she was being a pain in his ass. Never seemed to work on her, but Ava was a different creature altogether. She wanted him. It was obvious in the racing pulse at the base on her slim throat. The way her tongue had played peekaboo when he held her chin. The way her body tilted toward him ever so slightly as he spoke her name.

  Then, she pushed away and folded her arms over her chest.

  “Avaaa,” he repeated, putting more warning into it. Her head whipped to the side in rebellion. “You gonna be naughty? Do you remember what happens to naughty girls?”

  She inhaled sharply and froze. Oh, yeah, she remembered alright. Turned out her memory was as good as his. Hell, he still jerked off on occasion to the punishments he used to give her. Mounting her from behind as he grabbed a bright pink ass cheek. Her tight pussy shuddering around his cock as the flat of his hand rained down on her buttock.

  “The longer you make me wait, the longer I’m gonna make you wait,” he taunted. “If you want me to find out about Kingpin, you’re gonna have to work with me here.”

  She shoved her chair back with a screech and stood up. Shoulders squared, chin held high. “Fine, but you won’t make me come. I’m not going to have an orgasm with you. Do. Your. Worst. This is about Sasha’s killer for me. Not a thing more.”

  Go ahead and tell yourself that, baby girl.

  He patted his lap. “Here.”

  She stomped over to him, her eyes flicking over to the door. He leaned over and jiggled the little lock on the doorknob of her office door. Couldn’t keep anyone out for real, but it would give them time to separate, should anyone try the door. Either way, Puck was keeping an ear out for anything that happened in the hallway. Turning in his chair, he stretched out his legs for her to come and stand between them. She practically vibrated with a mixture of emotions. Her eyes flashed, but he knew this woman inside out. It wasn’t simply anger and frustration swimming in her eyes. Unless one counted sexual frustration.

  She wore a pair of slacks under the bulky wool sweater that engulfed her. Tapping his lap for her to sit, he waited as she shifted from foot to foot. Huffing out a curse, she plopped down on his hard thigh and almost bounced off. He grabbed her by the waist and settled her on his thigh. He was fit—of that there was no doubt. In solitary, he did so many crunches and sit-ups, he’d stopped counting after a thousand.

  Even though she sat primly on the edge of his thigh, he felt the spread of her warm, plump backside. Taking a deep inhale, he breathed in the light fragrance of her herbal shampoo mingling with her unique vanilla-and-mango scent, and fucking salivated. Christ, he could fucking soak in that scent. It drowned out the odor of urine and unwashed bodies that had taken over his sense of smell since being in the hole.

  The florescent lighting from the ceiling lamp was strong enough to bring out the auburn highlights of her long hair. His large hand raked through her tresses, and she gave a slight shudder. That’s it, baby. Let go. How many times had he picked up a woman with hair almost like hers, fucking them from behind while calling out her name? Yeah, he’d never forgotten her. She was tall, but being six foot three himself, and bulked up like he was, he dwarfed her slim frame.

  His other hand landed on her thigh, which flexed underneath his hold. She’d always been an athletic little thing. Running marathons, stuff like that. He leaned in until his nose was in her throat and scented her like a damn dog. Tugging her turtleneck down, he nuzzled into the side of her neck, and his lips glided softly down the slim column of her throat.

  His tongue flicked out for a quick taste. Fuuuck! She not only smelled like vanilla, but she damn-well tasted like it. Ironic, since she didn’t like to fuck vanilla. The contradiction only made her more enticing. This woman had been complex at twenty-one. He couldn’t begin to imagine the many layers to her now. He did know one thing, though: he’d be taking his time peeling them back, one by one. Revel in everything he did with her.

  Ava’s body was motionless, but he felt the humming under his touch like a swarm of buzzing locusts on a hot midsummer’s night. He could almost hear her blood sing. Heat rose to the surface of her skin, flushing hot under his ministrations.

  “Damn, baby, you taste so fucking sweet. I bet that lickable pussy is as tasty as ever. You slick for me yet?”

  She didn’t answer. He bit down on the juncture where her throat met her shoulder, and she yelped. “Answer me,” he warned with a growl.

  She shook her head, her bottom lip pulled inward and bitten by the top row of her teeth.

  “Do I need to check myself?” he asked in a husky rasp. She didn’t answer. “Guess that’s a yes.”

  Her legs were pressed tightly together, but his fingers caressed the seam of her thighs. “Open up for me, angel.” She tossed her head. His tone hardened in just the way she needed it. “Open up, or the deal is off.”

  After a long moment, she relaxed her muscles. He grunted out his approval, not a moment’s regret for blackmailing her. Not when all the signs of her body were chanting yes, yes, yes. He was giving her incentive for what she wanted anyway. It was her heart she feared for. And he got that. She had every right to be fearful, and he knew that heart of hers was hidden away, regardless of how her body responded to him. Didn’t mean he was gonna stand down, though.

  He knew this girl. She had a stubborn streak when she put her mind to something. Not everyone came out of rehab and ended up with a master’s degree. It happened, but not that often. If she didn’t want at least part of what he was offering—okay, demanding—she wouldn’t be spreading her thighs a tiny bit wider.

  He couldn’t wait to taste that sweet pussy. Wasn’t gonna happen now, but fuck, did he want her bad. Releasing the top button of her brown slacks, his fingers caught the tab and pulled the zipper down. They slipped inside and underneath the elastic band of her panties and hit the warmest, wettest little slit he’d ever had the privilege of touching. Burying his face into the crook of her neck, he groaned out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  His index finger swiped at her entrance, and she squirmed, opening her thighs wider and pushing her tight cunt toward his finger. Damn, must have been a long while since she was last fucked right. The thought more than pleased him. Her hips began to move, and sweet little moans slipped out. Dropping her head back on his shoulder, she lifted her hips off his thigh and moved faster. Soon, her hot body writhed in the air, and her even hotter pussy ground against the heel of his palm as he inserted another finger, and then another.

  Ring, ring, ring.

  Ava’s head snapped up. She grabbed his hand and yanked it out of her pants. Staggering forward, she grabbed the receiver of her desk phone. “H-hello?” she stammered in a rush. Puck grinned at her shortness of breath.

  Shoving at him with her other hand, she stumbled to her feet. Her eyes flew to her open zipper and then up to the wet fingers he sucked into his mouth. Her eyes bulged when he moaned out his appreciation for her taste. Yep, she tasted even better. He gave her a shrug. He wasn’t letting a drop of her go to waste. And fuck him because it turned out that her fragrance was stronger and muskier in his mouth. Damn. His tongue could live in her pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He might try that once he was out of this place and had her spread out in front of him like a feast, on a proper bed.

  Frowning, she quickly moved to her side of her desk and answered, “Yes, this is she. Oh, yes, Ms. Cameron. I actually have P
uck with me in my office at this very moment.” Her expression was pinched. Lips flattened; her eyes narrowed in on him. Was that jealousy? He almost burst out laughing. Sage was the president’s old lady. And pregnant, to boot. Even if none of that were true, Ava had nothing to worry about. He was quite enjoying her little fit. Proved she felt something for him, despite her serious misgivings.

  “Yes, why don’t I have him returned to his unit, and I’ll give you a call back.” She grabbed a sticky pad and pen. “What’s the best number to reach you?” She scribbled down Sage’s number and responded to whatever Sage was saying with an “Mm-hmm. Very good. Speak to you soon.”

  Ava hung up the phone, sagged into her chair, and scowled up at him. “She’s very concerned about you.”

  “She’s my president’s old lady. Ava, it was never an issue of other women.”

  Chewing her inner cheek, Ava drummed her fingers on the surface of her desk.

  He lifted his chin and said, “Make sure you’re decent.”

  Her eyes dropped to her crotch. Giving him a look that would maim a weaker man, she lifted her sweater and righted her slacks. “She can’t know about us. Or about Kingpin.”

  “’Course not. I’m not a snitch.”

  “Very honorable of you,” she snipped. “Too bad you had to go ruin it with a touch of blackmail.”

  “Hey, it’s nothing more than a little incentive to push things along since I’m trapped in here.” He pointed to the door. “If I was free, I’d pursue you the normal way, but I’m an inmate in this fucking place. I have no rights. No power. I’ll damn well use whatever leverage I have to get what I want. Am I proud of it? Not particularly. But I’ll be damned if I’m gonna stay helpless in this shithole,” his features hardened, and he stared her down to make sure she understood that he wasn’t playing around, “or let you slip away. Twenty-four hours a day, I’m treated like a damn dog. Being inside this office with you is the only time I feel like a fucking human. A fucking man. Sue me if I want a taste of that honey of yours. It’s the closest thing to heaven in this place and I’m not giving it up. No way. No how.”

  “God, Puck,” she breathed out, a stricken look on her face, but her cheeks flushed a nice pink. Yeah, he wasn’t in a pretty place in his life. He was wearing a prison-issued bright orange jumpsuit with the word INMATE stamped on his back, but he took comfort in his ability to arouse her. That was a good sign, at least.

  Throwing up her arms, she huffed out, “Okay, fine. You win. Two sessions a week; that’s the most I can do. Don’t get greedy and ask for more. I’m jeopardizing my professionalism as it is, so don’t push your luck.”

  His heated, hungry gaze skated down her shitty outfit, knowing exactly how good her supple flesh felt under his fingers. His fingers curled into fists. How good she tasted on his tongue. “I’m a greedy fucker when it comes to you, but it’ll do.”

  “Since I work in addiction, I’ll tell them I think you’re using. Shouldn’t come as a surprise since 65 percent of inmates meet the medical criteria for having a substance-use disorder of one kind or another. You’ll have to attend your choice of either Alcoholic Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous meetings to legitimize my theory. Satisfied?”

  “Good enough,” he agreed.

  Lifting the receiver of the phone to her ear, she requested a CO to come pick him up. After hanging up, she said, “Make sure you stay out of trouble. Do I need to see your friend as well? The one you got into a fight for”

  “No,” he barked out then pulled back and inhaled smoothly. He wasn’t letting that pretty-lookin’ kid around his woman. Brother or not, Whistle’s eyes alone could charm the panties off almost any woman, and he hadn’t locked her down just yet. “He’s getting out soon, anyway. Which is for the best. He’s a brother, but he’s also a distraction.” Like you, but you’re the kind of distraction I want. “Then I can focus my energy on finding out more about Kingpin.” And focus on you.

  There was brief knock, and the door opened to a CO. Officer Dipshit, again. Fuck, the man was constantly around Ava. Another bolt of jealousy speared through Puck. Here he had to blackmail his way back into Ava’s presence when this fucker could mosey into her office any damn time he wanted.

  Standing up, he nodded once to Ava and held out his wrists for the cuffs. He focused on lifting his feet, one after the other, away from her. His muscles screamed in protest, but he had no choice. But, if he bided his time, he’d be pounding into her, bent over the desk, with her heart securely wrapped around his little finger. Hopefully, that CO didn’t get to her first.

  Chapter Eight

  Ava massaged her forehead. What the hell had she agreed to? Did it matter as long as she got Kingpin’s poison off the street corners and out of schools? Seven years later, she still missed her closest childhood friend. Ava had Kat, but she’d been so busy raising her little sister, going to school, and helping her mother that she hadn’t the time or energy to build another tight friendship like that. Another part of her was also scared. What if she did, and that person disappeared like Sasha and Puck had. There was no doubt she was a little lonely. Although she’d never regretted walking away from the old crowd, she missed their easy camaraderie.

  Sinking back in her chair, she tapped on her keyboard to open up her computer screen as fantasies of getting Kingpin danced in her head. After three long years of following his trips in and out of jail, she was a step closer to getting him locked away for a substantial amount of time. Through the open door of her office, the speaker crackled and announced the jail library was closing in fifteen minutes. If she was lucky, he’d be off the streets forever. Her journey began during an internship when she was finishing up her graduate degree. She was shadowing a social worker at the Green Haven Correctional Facility, a maximum-security prison half an hour away. It was the closest Kingpin had come to serving real time for one of his many crimes.

  Her thoughts drifted toward Puck and his touch. A hot shudder coursed through her traitorous body. Not only had she found herself in the arms of a man for the first time in two years, but it wasn’t just any man. It was Puck. His scent alone brought back memories of them lying on her mattress on the floor of the apartment she’d shared with Sasha. Pillows had lain, cast off on the floor like sun-bleached debris on a vacant beach. The hot summer breeze came in through her bedroom windows. The apartment was down the street from a fire station, and the sound of ambulances and fire trucks blared through the night. Their sweat-lined bodies intertwined together as they fucked for hours through the sweltering heat of the August nights.

  At nineteen years old, he was already a stallion, and he hadn’t even been that experienced. She’d taught him how to go down on a woman. The way he’d spoken about licking her pussy advertised he had his fair share of women since then. Talking dirty was new. Before, it had been all moans and grunts between them, neither of them experienced enough to consider talk at all, much less explicit talk. Clearly, that had changed in the past eight years.

  He may have aroused her, but she couldn’t afford to catch feelings for him. Never that. She huffed out a laugh at his indignation when she’d called him a flake. Undoubtedly, he was solid with the people he’d committed himself to. Once upon a time, she’d been one of those people and remembered well what it was like to be cosseted by a man like him. Protected. Coveted. He was an expert at making a woman feel wanted and desired. It was one of the things that had made it such cold, miserable hell when he turned her away.

  Her mind meandered back to the day he’d ended their relationship. Her belly had dropped when he gave her the double-whammy that his mother was dead and that he was breaking up with her. She knew their relationship was a cause of stress between him and his mom. Till then, he’d never told her how bad it had gotten. Admittedly, she hadn’t been a great influence, but if he’d told her, she might’ve changed. She wouldn’t have called him out to so many parties at her apartment or the record shop where she’d worked.

  If given half a chance, she w
ould’ve done things differently because she was head over heels in love with him. His mother had died in a car accident right after arguing with Puck. He’d made his decision, halfway out of his mind with grief and guilt. Damn him. Thinking about it brought back the harsh agony of that day. Briefly, it’d been overshadowed by Sasha’s death. Then, they’d merged together into one ball of grief and lived as a consistent ache in her heart for years afterward.

  That one decision was the flakiness she saw in him. She’d given in to his demand today but there wasn’t much coercion. Who was she kidding? She wanted him to touch her. But in no way did that mean she’d allow him to pry open her heart. Hard pass on that one.

  ※※※

  Saturday, Ava picked up Kat from the dealership for their regular bubble-tea date. Her father was on the floor again, so she was forced to endure a strained chat with him. He even suggested she stop by during the week to have dinner with him and Kat. Was he having a midlife crisis or something? Recently, he seemed to be trying to breach the divide between them. Almost as if he were remorseful. Yup, definitely a midlife crisis, she mused as she nudged Kat out of the dealership door toward her little orange Nissan Versa.

  “Is the Clementine still here?” Kat cracked like she did every single time Ava picked her up. As if making fun of her car for being little and orange was going to somehow push her to buy a bike for Kat to ride on. Yeah, not happening.

  “Hardy-har-har,” Ava replied as she clicked her car open. “I’d like to see your first car. Oh wait, your father spoils you like the brat you are, so he’ll buy you a fantastic car, and I won’t be able to tease you about it. Oops, my bad.”

  “He’d buy you a fantastic car if you’d only let him. You know he likes to show his love by buying stuff, but you rarely let him spoil you. Whatever. Even if I end up buying my own car, I can guarantee you what it won’t be. It won’t be orange.”