Driving Whiskey Wild

by Melissa Foster

  “Oh, my beautiful girl. We really were made for each other.” He pressed his lips to the divot in her lower belly and proceeded to kiss each of the puncture scars along her side. “What happened to my girl?”

  “I was fifteen. Penny and I were at the mall. We were waiting for the bus, when this dog came out of nowhere, running across the street. I thought it was running toward its owner because it was charging so fast. By the time I realized it was coming at me, it was too late. Penny tried to push me out of the way, but the dog had already gotten ahold of me.”

  “Baby,” he said in a low, pained voice. He rested his cheek on the scars and splayed one hand across her belly. He pressed his lips to her belly again in a series of the lightest kisses she’d ever felt, his beard tickling her side, and whispered, “No wonder you were afraid of Tinkerbell. I wish I had known.”

  “She’s an important part of your life. I was okay, just startled. And I’m even better now.”

  She ran her fingers through his thick hair as he loved his way along her belly more tenderly than she could ever imagine a man of his size being. His rough hands moved over her skin, hot and strong, caressing her sides as he moved her dress up and over her breasts, carefully stripping it from her body. He went up on his knees, his eyes boldly raking over every inch of her. She felt herself go damp and was vaguely aware of the ticking timer a few feet away as he reached behind his back and tugged off his shirt, bringing his glorious body into view. How differently she saw him now. All that ink was no longer a scary mural of his life. It was the very foundation that made him the admirable man he was.

  He perched above her and slanted his mouth over hers in a rough, insistent possession that she matched perfectly. His large hand cupped her jaw as he’d done before, making love to her mouth with his tongue until she was moaning and rocking against his hard length, desperate for more.

  “That’s what I’m going to do to you, baby. I’m going to taste you so deep, you’ll never forget how good it feels.”

  “Yes,” she said as he blazed a path lower, slowing to suck and nip, driving her out of her flipping mind.

  His hands played over her body, clutching her ribs as he feasted on first one breast, then the other, taking each nipple between his teeth and tugging, sending shocks of lust between her legs. She cried out, and he cupped her breasts, pressing them together between both hands, kissing and licking the tender spots he’d caused. She clawed at the sheets, every swipe of his tongue taking her higher. Then his hot mouth was on the move again, tasting every bit of her flesh from rib cage to belly, delving in and around her belly button, and lavishing her scars with openmouthed kisses.

  Cool air swept over the wet trails he’d left, making her shiver and shake. He hooked his fingers into the hips of her panties, and she lifted off the mattress as he slipped them off. She should feel self-conscious, lying naked save for her ankle boots while he still had on his jeans, but there was no room for embarrassment when her body was thundering from the inside out, begging for his touch, his mouth, his naked body all over hers.

  He came down over her again, rough denim rubbing against her sensitive, swollen sex as he recaptured her lips in a punishingly intense kiss, sending spirals of ecstasy careening through her. Her world tilted on its axis as tingling sensations climbed up her thighs. He tore his mouth away in one swift yank, and she craned up off the mattress, reaching for him, pleading for more, but he was already moving lower. His hands splayed over her inner thighs, spreading her wide as he lowered his face to within an inch of her sex and inhaled deeply. Flames ignited in his eyes, and his mouth came down over her sex as soft as a caress. His tongue slid along the very heart of her, tasting and teasing. His beard scratched her sex, her thighs, and when he sucked her most sensitive nerves into his mouth, the scratch turned erotic, drawing long, pleading sounds from her lungs.

  “Bullet—”

  Her hips struggled against his strong grip, pinned to the mattress as he sealed his mouth over her, thrusting his tongue in an act of raw, unbridled passion. She clawed at the sheets, but she wanted him. She grabbed his hands, which was all she could reach, and dug her fingers into his hot skin. Her heels pushed at the mattress and her head rose off the mattress with the intensity of the sensations engulfing her. His tongue plunged deeper, and holy moly. She tried to throttle the dizzying currents racing through her, shattering her ability to hold on to any one thought, but the feel of his tongue invading her, the tension of his hands and body caging her in, and the guttural, appreciative sounds he made as he loved her collided, exploding inside her in a series of hip-bucking, brain-numbing convulsions.

  Just when she started to come down from the peak, he eased his grip, lifting her hips, and like a lion who had just slayed his prey, his eyes turned coal black, and he plunged his fingers inside her while simultaneously taking her clit between his teeth, sending her reeling once again.

  Long after she came down from the clouds, as she lay panting beneath him, Bullet brushed kiss after tender kiss on her inner thighs, and then he brought his mouth between her legs again, licking and kissing as if he were savoring every ounce of her arousal. As he moved up her body, kissing her scars again, her ribs, the skin between her breasts, she wanted to memorize the feel of him, the slow, sensual slide of his tongue, the tenderness of his touch. He wasn’t in a hurry. He didn’t try to whip off his pants and take what he must be dying for. He ran his hands along her sides, up the underside of her arms, pushing them above her head. Then he was kissing her neck, his beard tickling her skin, her arousal clinging to him like cologne.

  The timer sounded, and he stilled, his eyes closing for a beat. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want their closeness to end, and when he moved beside her, pulling her sated body against him, and kissed her softly, she said, “Let’s stay right here.”

  His gaze was so soft, his features so appealing and happy, she wanted to see that look more often. She wanted to know he was at peace in his heart, which was precisely how his entrancing smile appeared, and it brought her lips to his in another slow, loving kiss.

  He ran his hand through her hair, and the faint sound of the oven timer floated down the hall as he kissed her forehead, cheeks, chin, and finally, her mouth.

  “I want to stay, Fins, but I’ve got to get home and clean up before going to work, and you put so much effort into those meals, I’d feel horrible if they were ruined.”

  She tucked her face beside his neck and breathed a kiss there. “’Kay.”

  “Can I see you tomorrow?”

  She nodded, wishing she could close her eyes and that when she opened them it would magically be morning and she’d still be right there, wrapped in Bullet’s arms.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE PIERCING REBELLION of an electric guitar echoed off the walls of Whiskey Bro’s, grating against Bullet’s nerves for the first time that he could remember. He loved the Rebels, a local band made up of members of the Dark Knights. They were one of the best bands around, and their renditions of legendary classic rock bands were the best he’d ever heard. Their music was ragged and raw. The pitches and riffs played deep, hollow, or shrill, always too loud and overly dramatic, which normally was right in line with Bullet’s emotions. But he’d been messed up ever since leaving Finlay. As he’d helped her put back on that sexy little dress, she was so damn sweet and understanding about his leaving, but he’d seen longing in her eyes that mirrored the new emotions tearing him up inside. What was fucking wrong with him? She had plans anyway. She was bringing food to Sarah, ordering the appliances for the bar, working out the renovation schedule with Dixie. But as the evening wore on, he couldn’t stop seeing her lying naked in his arms, was unable to quell the memory of her breath warm on his neck, and those addicting sounds she’d made played in his ears, competing with the band.

  Torment coursed through his veins. Every chord yanked him toward an angry edge he didn’t want to approach. For the first time since he’d come out from under his PTSD and st
arted working at Whiskey Bro’s, he didn’t want to be there. And every second he was made him want to slam something against a wall.

  “What do you think, B?” Bones took a swig of his beer, looking expectantly at Bullet. He and Bear had been hanging out at the bar for the past hour. “Sunday ride? Head out to Riker’s?”

  Riker’s Point was a solid two hours from the harbor, and a hell of a nice ride. But Sunday was Bullet’s only day off work, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to spend it with Finlay. After learning why she was afraid of dogs, he was already rethinking his idea of bringing her over to meet Tink. He hadn’t even asked why she was afraid of motorcycles, but he had a feeling that navigating her fears was going to be a minefield in and of itself.

  “Can’t,” Bullet said, and went to the other end of the bar to take an order, ignoring Bear’s and Bones’s comments. After filling the order and wiping up a spilled beer, he returned to answer his brothers’ curious gazes.

  “You never miss a Sunday ride,” Bear said. “What’s up?”

  A guy down the bar raised his empty glass. Bullet said, “Busy,” to Bear and took care of the customer. He didn’t know why he wasn’t telling his brothers about wanting to see Finlay, but figured it went hand in hand with not wanting to work tonight. They’d just gone through a family upheaval about the bar when Bear had backed out of working there. They didn’t need to go through another one, and that fed the guilt eating away at him.

  “With what?” Bear pushed, his eyes narrowing. “What’s more important than going for a ride?”

  “Let it go,” Bullet warned.

  “What’s got your balls in a sling?” Bear asked. “You’re even more of a prick than usual. Not getting any lately?”

  “Fuck off. I just don’t want to be here tonight,” he admitted.

  Bear and Bones exchanged a confused glance, which irritated him even more. That passive-aggressive glance alone showed the difference between Bullet and his brothers. Had one of them said to him what he’d just said to them, he’d tell them to get it off their chest or shut the fuck up.

  “Why not?” Bones asked. He was the most even-keeled of them all, smart, careful, methodical in his thinking. While he’d be there in a heartbeat to back up his brothers if there was trouble, his gut instincts led him to figure things out mentally before acting physically.

  He was surprised Bones hadn’t put two and two together, but then again, there had never been a woman Bullet would rather be with more than he wanted to spend time at the bar.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Bullet said. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t see Finlay tomorrow, and he didn’t understand why it was messing with his head to have left her tonight and come to the place that had been his safe haven for all these years. Until Finlay, Bullet’s life had been easy. Black and white. Things were either fine, or they were ass backward and needed to be fixed. But Finlay brought a world of emotions and middle grounds he didn’t know what to do with.

  “Well, who were you with?” Bear asked. “What were you doing before you came here? Maybe we can figure it out.”

  Bear was as much of an overcommunicator as Finlay. If others hurt, Bear hurt, whereas with Bullet, if someone within his circle was hurting, he stepped in and applied whatever muscle was necessary to remove that hurt from their lives.

  Bones took another drink, and a slow grin spread across his lips. “A certain blonde with a knack for baking delicious cookies.”

  “Ah, Finlay,” Bear teased. “Everyone’s wondering when she’s coming back with more.”

  More like wondering when she’s coming back so they can leer at her. Bullet ground his teeth together.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” Bear asked. “You were fucking Finlay and you didn’t want to leave.”

  Bullet reached a hand across the bar and grabbed Bear by the collar, hauling him up to eye level and sending drinks crashing to the floor. Customers casually stepped back. They knew better than to get in between Bullet and anyone.

  “B!” Bones sprang to his feet, throwing an arm awkwardly between them.

  “Don’t you ever talk about her that way again,” Bullet seethed through gritted teeth. “Got it?” Before Bear could respond, he tossed him backward.

  Bear stumbled, laughing as he found his footing. “Dude, you’ve got it bad, and you’d better get it under control.”

  The music came back into focus, and Bullet saw Red making a beeline for them. She looked like hell on wheels, her eyes narrow, her black boots clomping with each determined step. She was the epitome of a biker’s old lady. Tough as balls and unafraid of stepping into the line of fire. But her lips were tipped up at the edges, making Bullet laugh softly. She’d raised them and was used to the ups and downs of brotherhood. Like Bear, she was a talker. She knew most of their demons—but only Bones knew the truth of Bullet’s.

  He slid his gaze back to the brother who had been there for him when he was hanging on to life by a thread. When he’d hidden out from the rest of his family, too ashamed to face them.

  “What the hell, Bullet?” Bones stood between Bullet and Bear, staring him down in the way only he could.

  He was looking so deeply into Bullet’s eyes, Bullet knew he was searching to see if the demons had returned, or if this was the normal shit that went on between brothers. Bullet shifted his gaze to Bear and said, “You a’right?”

  “Always, but what the hell?” Bear picked up a few pieces of glass from the floor and set them on the bar.

  “Didn’t get milk in your Cheerios this morning?” Red asked as Bullet came around the bar with a broom to clean up the mess. She shook her head at Bear, who was circling the bar, and began mopping up the counter. Her eyes found Bullet again, and she said, “Or did your baby brother open his yap about the article in the paper? I told him not to give you a hard time about that.”

  “It’s all good, Red.” He eyed Bear, who made kissing sounds. Bullet cocked his arm back, feigning prepping for a fight, and they both laughed.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you for helping that family, honey.” Her green eyes coasted over Bones, who was crouched on the floor, holding the dustpan for Bullet, and then they moved up to Bear, who was busy talking to a customer. By the time she looked at Bullet again, her gaze was soft and worried. “I love you guys, but my heart stops every time I see your hands fisted.”

  Bullet finished sweeping the mess into the dustpan and handed the broom to Bones, who carried the broom and dustpan behind the bar. When he was out of earshot, Bullet stepped closer to Red, lowering his voice. “Leading with your heart? Is it supposed to confuse the hell out of you?”

  A warm smile lit up her eyes. “Only if you’re doing it right, honey.”

  Several hours later, after closing the bar and telling himself to drive home, he found himself parked in front of Finlay’s house, staring at his cell phone. The curtains were drawn, and the house was quiet as the night. He knew he should turn around and bide his time, see her tomorrow, as he’d asked to. But he craved her in his arms, needed to see her sweet face, to hear how her evening had gone.

  He lowered his hand to his leg, wondering when he’d become so pussy-whipped. But the thought sent another fiery gust through his core. He wasn’t pussy-whipped. This wasn’t like that. This was bigger than anything he’d ever felt before. Bigger than life itself, and he didn’t know what to do with all the emotions blustering inside him.

  Fuck it. He needed to hear her voice. He put the call through and lifted the phone to his ear.

  “Hi,” she said in a sleepy voice.

  “Hey, lollipop.”

  He listened to her breathing, could practically see her sleepy blue eyes gazing up at him, a smile curving her lips, could almost feel her cheek against his chest…

  FINLAY LAY ON her back, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness of her bedroom and waiting for Bullet to say more. She’d kept herself distracted all evening. When she’d taken food to the hospital, she’d also brought more goodies f
or the nurses, who were happy to let Finlay stock their freezer with a few meals for Sarah. She’d gone straight from there to meet Dixie at Penny’s ice cream shop, where they’d gobbled down sundaes and made the final decisions on the kitchen renovations. Dixie had arranged for Crow to handle the appliance installations and counter modifications this week, which meant Finlay was free to work on menus and start the interviewing and hiring process. She’d almost gone to the bar to see Bullet afterward, but she didn’t want to appear too needy. Instead she’d spent the rest of the night trying to distract herself from thoughts of him. A long, hot bath hadn’t done the trick, and sitting out back had only reminded her of how close they’d become when they were there. She’d lain in her bed for the past hour, trying to sleep, but she missed him too much, and now, as silence filled the airwaves, she worried about what that silence meant.

  “Aren’t you going to talk to me?” she asked, smiling to herself because Bullet was a man of very few words in person. She imagined it was even more difficult for him over the phone, since most of his communication was visual. When she could see his face, she knew in a hot second if he was sad, angry, worried, or horny.

  “Just wanted to hear your voice,” he finally said. “Did I wake you?”

  “No. I was lying here thinking of you.” She was met with silence again, and she closed her eyes, her pulse racing like never before. “Maybe you should come over. I can’t read your eyes over the phone.”

  The line went dead, and she stared at the phone, confused. Had she upset him?

  Seconds later her answer came as a knock at her front door, and she leapt from the bed, grinning like a fool as she padded down the hall in her bare feet and peered through the peephole. Bullet had one hand on the back of his neck, his eyes downcast. She couldn’t open the door fast enough. She flung it open, her heart jolting as his gaze moved swiftly up her bare legs to the words emblazoned across her chest. GOOD GIRLS SIT, BAD BITCHES RIDE. She felt her cheeks burn.