Riot (Rebel Riders MC Book 2)

by Zahra Girard

  “You still look doubtful,” he murmurs, his lips voyaging lower.

  I know exactly where he’s heading. I shiver in anticipating. And shift my hips as he grabs hold of my jeans, freeing the buttons, and then pulling the denim off me, along with my panties.

  I moan and twitch; he wastes no time kissing me exactly where I want him to.

  Sudden and electric, it feels like I’ve been struck by lightning.

  “I missed you,” I gasp.

  His tongue makes me gasp. His hands hold me still, gripping me by the hips and reminding me exactly who’s in charge.

  “I know,” he says, his hot breath against my wet pussy making me moan. “I missed you, too. I missed this. Nothing compares to you. To your body. To seeing you, ready and wet for me.”

  I try to speak, but his tongue does something and all I can do is let out a ragged moan. Then, for the shortest second, it stops and my eyes open, looking for the reason why he’d stop, just in time to see him grin at me as he slides a finger into me.

  My eyes slam shut. My mouth opens, and I moan so loud it’s almost a scream. Time seems to slow to a crawl as Riot focuses solely on me and making me feel like every nerve in my body is on fire.

  Synapses fried, body tingling, pressure building, I reach between my legs and clutch him by the head.

  “Don’t stop.”

  His tongue traces a seductive path between my legs that makes me moan again.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  His lips tease and suck at my clit. Gentle at first, testing and coaxing until I can’t stand another kiss, another lick — my body is shaking with pent-up need.

  He crooks a finger, he sucks a little harder, and his tongue caresses me in a way that makes my toes curl and leaves me breathless.

  I shudder as he breaks me.

  “Convinced?” He says, looking up at me from between my legs.

  I’ll never get tired of that view.

  I try to answer him, but I’m not able to talk, yet.

  He growls. “Good, cause I’m not done with you, yet.”

  Riot stands and lifts me, tossing me over his shoulder. He carries me to the bedroom. The bouncing jars me to my senses. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re saying goodbye to your mattress. I’m taking you back to Crescent Falls. I let you go once, I’m not doing that again.”

  What a wonderful, stubborn man.

  He tosses me onto my back on the bed. I watch, mouth open, salivating and suffused in heat as he strips for me. Muscles stretch and ripple as his shirt comes off, revealing a perfect picture of power and danger, inked in tattoos. His pants drop to the floor and I moan at the sight of his hard cock and the look in his eyes; I know he is going to dominate me and I am aching to give myself to him.

  I start to sit up, to beckon him to come closer, and he shoves me back.

  I hit the bed and he climbs atop me, sudden, powerful, and I shiver and groan as he slides into me. It’s incendiary, intense and intimate, a passion that burns through every inch of my body like wildfire.

  My legs close behind his back; I pull him into me.

  Our bodies move in synchronous sexual tempo, entwined as one, body and soul.

  His lips find my ear. “I always knew it had to be you. The second I saw you, I had to have you. No one else would measure up.”

  Shivers. Flames. Electricity.

  My body is haywire, lost to the tempo of Riot’s domination.

  Growling, he breaks the hold my legs have on him. Powerful, he grips me and flips me. Insatiable, he cracks be hard on the ass — I yelp and grin as he takes me from behind.

  Ecstasy takes hold and I rock my hips against him, matching him thrust for thrust.

  “No one makes me as hard as you.”

  I cock my head and look back at him with a smile on my face.

  “No one makes me wet like you.”

  My body shakes with each thrust. I shut my eyes and try to memorize the feelings coursing through me, the sensation of his cock, the sound of his moans, the feel of his hips against my ass, the pleasure of being wholly his.

  Tension and release roil inside me, shakes me to my core.

  “Riot,” I moan. “Riot, please don’t stop.”

  He grabs my hair and pulls me upright.

  “I’m not going to let you go, Emma. Not now, not ever,” he whispers into my ear. “I love you.”

  I feel him inside me, feel him release, and I shiver at the carnal sensuality of the moment. He holds me in pose and reach behind me and clutch hold of him. He’s solid. He’s real. And he’s all mine.

  When the moment passes and the world returns to motion, I look around me at my terrible little apartment. And then I look back at him.

  In my heart, I know the answer. I want the life that he’s offering — the chance to build a family, the chance to build a career, the chance to have something permanent and real.

  “You’ve convinced me,” I say.

  “You sure you don’t need more convincing?” He says, a grin bringing out the dimples in his cheeks. “Several more times, maybe?”

  I take his hand and I kiss him. I’ve never felt so sure of something in my life.

  “I love you, Riot,” I whisper. “And I’m through running.”

  His hand squeezes mine. “Good. Because you know I’d just chase you down again, right?”

  I kiss him again. “Take me home.”

  Epilogue

  Emma

  Six Weeks Later

  “Package for you, Emma,” Alice says, dropping a small, rectangular box on the desk in front of me.

  I look at it quizzically. I definitely don’t remember ordering anything.

  “What is it?” I say, looking up to Alice. She’s got an expression on her face like she knows exactly what’s inside and she’s just waiting for me to open it.

  It’s been five weeks that she and I have been working together at her company, Riley HR Consulting. The first week that I moved to Crescent Falls was spent in finding my own place to live, which I do pretty easily with Cindy’s help — she knows everyone in town, and it only takes her offering my landlord some free biscuits for her to secure me a nice short-term lease — and I spend the rest of that first week doing remote work for the Port of Redwood City. After how good that they were to me, I felt that I owed them at least a week of my time while they looked for my replacement.

  Riot and I take it slow at first. The first week I moved to town, he was busy with the club — working all day and night to help them get their operations back online — and the only times we saw each other were in passing — mostly at Java Jazz when he would stop in for some coffee and a biscuit while on break from working from the club, and where I’d be camped out doing work for the port.

  The second week, we made time for actual dates. Stuff outside the club. Dinners at actual restaurants, drinks in non-biker bars, even a day trip down to Los Angeles spent doing nothing other than getting to know each other as people, outside of the turbulent violence in which we first met.

  And the more I get to know him, the more I come to appreciate him.

  By the third week, I’d given up any pretense of wanting to take it slow. Though we still keep our own places — at my insistence — except for when he’s on club business and when I’m at work, most of our time is spent at one another’s place; either I’m at his house, or he’s at mine.

  And I’m loving every second of it.

  Though I still haven’t set foot in the clubhouse. I’m taking it slow. I’m enjoying the chance to dictate the pace of a relationship for the first time in a long time. And Riot cares about me enough that he’s willing to be patient. Besides, it’s not like we haven’t spent plenty of sleepless, passionate nights together since I’ve come back to town. I might not be ready to get to know the rest of his club, but I sure as hell am excited to get to know every inch of Riot in bed.

  “Open it,” Alice says. “I really think you’ll like it.”

&nb
sp; “Yes, boss,” I say.

  She laughs as I tear open the package. What’s inside has me so startled I nearly drop the box.

  “Business cards?” I say. Then, taking one out for a closer look, I gasp. They read Emma Harper, VP, Branding and Client Management. “Holy shit. You’re promoting me? To VP?”

  In a way, it’s a promotion. In another way, it’s actually giving me my first job title with the company. Until this point, my email signature back to any clients was just my name and the company name.

  “I run this place, I can give you any job title I like.”

  “Yeah, but VP?”

  “Sadly, there’s a lot of pathetic men out there who won’t listen to a woman unless she ranks higher than them on the corporate ladder. And even then, a fair bit of those dickheads still won’t listen,” she says, then pauses for a second. “Besides, you do good work. The logo you came up with was a million times better than anything I could’ve made, and every client I’ve heard from really appreciates working with you.”

  I answer the phones, I handle basic client scheduling, I respond to small-time inquiries, I’m basically Alice’s assistant and, maybe, I handle some marketing from time to time with the logo and graphics stuff I do.

  And now I’m VP.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “I just want you to receive the respect you deserve when you’re handling our clients. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to run this place without you. There’s just too much work for me to do on my own, you know. So, if you don’t mind being the VP of a two-person company and head of a one-person mostly-symbolic department…”

  “Count me in.”

  “And no, it doesn’t come with a raise. Yet.”

  Our offices are a little three room place that used to be a deli. I’m not expecting a raise. I’m just grateful for the stability and the respect. I’m in on the ground floor of a business that could really be something. For once, I’m going somewhere without having to run.

  “Thank you, Alice.”

  “Don’t mention it. Again, you deserve it,” she says. Then, after a pause, she says hesitantly, “I’m thinking about heading out for drinks later with Thrash and some of the guys from the club. It’ll be at Dave’s Taphouse downtown. It’s a little pre-celebration. They finished work restoring the strip club. Duke wanted to actually hold the party at the strip club, but the place still smells like paint and varnish, so, yeah, they’re doing it downtown. Would you like to come along and celebrate? Riot will be there, too. You really should.”

  I haven’t seen anyone from the club, except for Riot, in weeks. And that’s been by choice. But a lot has changed since then. I have a home of my own, I have a job, I have stability, and I have pride in what I’ve done for myself.

  Maybe now’s the time to get my feet wet.

  I smile.

  “I’ll be there.”

  * * * * *

  My heart flutters in my chest as I park my van in the lot in front of Dave’s Taphouse. There are at least a dozen bikes in the parking lot, along with Alice’s car, and more than a couple other cars belong to club staff, club girls, and hangers-on.

  I pause in the parking lot, one foot out of my van, the other inside it.

  This is the first time I’ll be seeing the rest of the club and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Nervous, anxious, a tiny bit scared, but also excited and, if I’m being honest with myself, ready. I know that each and every one of them is going to welcome me like family. That’s the way these guys are — once you’re in, you’re family, as close as blood.

  I decide I’m just being foolish, sitting out here worrying.

  It can’t be so bad going in. I’m ready.

  Twenty steps take me to the front door. One quick turn of the handle and a pull and laughter and music and drunken singing wash over me. The bar’s full and one look around the room — at all these close people having a good time, at the club, already half-drunk and rollicking through the room, pulling even the very-confused regular patrons into their party — and I am smiling.

  This was the right choice.

  I step into the room and Riot spots me in an instant. He makes a beeline for me and arrives as soon as a very-drunk Bull wraps me into the biggest hug I’ve ever had in my life.

  “Good to see you, Red,” Bull says, his voice a bit slurred. “Fucking damn good to see you. Welcome to the party.”

  “You look like you’re having a good time,” I say, grinning ear to ear. I’ve never seen Bull like this. He’s red-faced and smiling and he looks happy, which is a big change from the all-business attitude I remember him having.

  “Fucking right I’m having a good time. You know how much of a pain in the ass it was getting that strip club fixed up? And how much it cost? Shit, the plumbers alone cost me my left fucking nut, and what the hell are you going to say to plumbers? You can’t tell them ‘no’, because then shit will get messy. And it’s not like anyone in the club knows how to do that shit that plumbers do, it’s practically fucking voodoo is what it is…”

  Riot puts his hands on Bull’s shoulders and gently pulls him back. “Why don’t you get back to the party, Bull?”

  “Hell yeah, Riot. Hell yeah,” He says, then he mumbles something about Java Jazz and walks unsteadily back into the crowd.

  “What got into him?” I say, watching Bull stumble off.

  “He’s glad we’re finally done paying for the rebuilding work of the strip club.”

  “All that over expenses?”

  “Bull likes numbers,” Riot says. Then, he grins. “He also has been spending a lot of time at Java Jazz, lately.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “You mean…?”

  “It ain’t nothing, yet. Cindy would’ve told me. And if you ask Bull, he’ll just deny it and say he likes his biscuits.”

  My eyes drift back to Bull, who’s got one arm over Duke’s shoulder and looks like he’s in the middle of telling a very dirty joke. “Well, it’s nice to see everyone so happy.”

  “It’s just good to see you, Red,” he says. “Congratulations, by the way. I heard Alice finally gave you the good news.”

  “Finally? What do you mean?”

  “She may have let something slip a week back or so. She was asking Thrash and me how soon we thought it would be for her to promote you.”

  “What’d you tell her?”

  He laughs. “The truth. That neither of us knows a damn thing about anything ‘appropriate’. Though I did tell her that you’re one of the hardest working and hungriest people I know. I can’t think of anyone else who would worry about keeping up on their job while they’re on the run from killers. You really impress me, Red.”

  I blush. Hard.

  He senses that I have no clue what to say, and pulls me close into a kiss that makes my cheeks even more flush and leaves me feeling lightheaded.

  “Why don’t we go join the party?” He says.

  I nod, mute.

  He keeps his arm over my shoulder and leads me into the crowd. Someone puts a beer in my hand and, before I realize it, I’m chatting and joking and laughing along with the rest of the club and it’s like I never left, like none of the chaos went down with Fury and his nomads. I feel like I’m among family.

  This is what I’ve been missing. This is what I want to hold on to.

  A family.

  I know the laughter around me won’t be present every day, that it has costs and risks and danger, but I’ve made a decision. This feel around me is infectious, consuming, and addicting. I want it a part of my life. For good.

  For what’s been too long, I feel playful. Utterly relaxed and at peace. At home.

  Still, hours go by before I work the courage to tell my news to Riot.

  And I know just how I want to do it.

  “Let’s go outside for a second,” I say, taking his hand, trying to sound worried.

  It works.

  He can hear something in my voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “I have someth
ing to tell you. It’s important.”

  His smile’s replaced by tight-lipped concern, but he nods and takes my hand and leads me outside. We’re alone out in the parking lot, our only company the raucous sounds of the party taking place in the bar.

  “What’s wrong, Red?”

  I suppress my smile, keep my face looking concerned, contemplative.

  “You know when I found my apartment that I wanted it to be a short-term lease. And you know the reason for that, right?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I’m thinking about moving again.”

  He looks dumbfounded. “What? What the hell for? Things were working out well, weren’t they? Fuck, we even had plans — you were going to join me for Sunday fucking dinner with my family. And now… Just tell me why.”

  “It’s just not working out where I’m at.”

  “What do you mean not working out? Why keep this a secret until now? Why not work on it together?”

  “I think I’d feel more comfortable somewhere else,” I say. And I hold it for a moment, watching the confused suspense on his face, and then I’m not able to hold back the smile from my face any longer. “I think I’d feel more comfortable at your place.”

  It takes a second before it hits him. Then he belts out laughter and grips me in a hug that practically squeezes all the air out of me. “You want to move in?”

  “If you’ll have me.”

  “Do you think there’s any way I don’t say ‘yes’ to having your sexy ass in bed beside me every night?”

  I hop up on my tiptoes and kiss him, enjoying the feel of his stubble against my face. “I hope not.”

  “I want you, Red. I love you. No one else could ever come close. And, someday, I’m going to make you my old lady.”

  I smile. “I like the sound of that.”

  *****The End*****

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