by Rie Warren
She looked up at me, her eyes soft and blue.
“Sorry I’m not looking so hot tonight.” I pushed a tendril of so-red hair behind her ear.
“I never thought you were hot anyway.” Blaize did the denial thing again, but her hands were still on me. Still wandering up and down my back.
Ouch. Kick my ego while it’s down, why doesn’t she?
“So those kisses downstairs?” I asked.
“All in a day’s work.”
“What about a night’s work?” I husked near her ear.
She slid free. “If me kissing you in order to cement our position here is going to cloud your judgment, that can be rectified.”
Goddammit.
“My judgment isn’t clouded.”
“Our relationship shouldn’t be cloudy either.”
“Crystal fucking clear, sir.” I snapped the heels of my boots together and stalked to the gallery doors.
“That’s ma’am to you,” she sailed back at me.
Banging the balcony doors open, I muttered, “Actually, it’s Mizz Cahmichael.”
While she did whatever, I worked on airing out the room. I turned on the overhead fan until it whumped like the rotors of a chopper and flipped the mattress.
Blaize gave me wide berth. Probably a good thing.
Being back at this place made me think of two things I did well: fucking and fighting. I’d already done the fighting.
No chance of fucking tonight.
I made sure my loaded Sigs were at the ready. I noted Blaize did the same with her arsenal, including her sidearm of choice—a Walther PPKS .380.
Setting her pistol aside, she rolled her neck, loosening the laces on that naughty skintight corset.
I watched her take a deep breath, popping the top button on my leathers to give my cock some breathing room.
Blaize watched me.
I cleared a path on the floor from the balcony to the door, kicking Lenny’s shit out of my way. As per my MacGyver role, I set a wire booby trap at the bedroom door, then locked it, and shoved a chair beneath the knob.
When Blaize screwed up her face and headed for the bathroom, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Baby, you really riskin’ going in there? You’ll probably catch a disease on contact.”
“I’ve had all my shots.” She headed inside, plugging her nose.
Ballsy woman.
She came back out, holding a wet washcloth she added to a few gauze strips on a side table she’d wiped clean.
“Come here, Storm.”
As per our new arrangement—me docile, her in charge, an arrangement that wasn’t gonna last—I hauled up a rattan seat and sat in front of her.
Given my height and her position when she leaned over me, I had an epic view of her cleavage.
Bet she had pert pink nipples.
I tried to erase that thought. My hard cock butting against the leathers, and her scent washing over me, made it all but impossible.
Blaize cleaned my scrapes. She taped the side of my nose. She got so close I held her hips to steady her, wanting nothing more than to seat her on my lap.
Her hands stopped at my shoulders. Her ministrations halted. She froze.
I touched the skin of her waist, “What is it?”
Blaize crouched in front of me. “I can’t tell you. Can’t tell you that thing that haunts me, Storm.” She glanced away. “I’m sure you have the same pain inside you.”
“Pain?” I eased her up, watching her lips part. “I never want that for you.” Hungry for her touch, I seated her in my lap. “Won’t happen here. I swear I’ll take care of you.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” The depths of her oceanic irises completely mesmerized me.
“We made it through the easiest part, cher.” I slipped my hands around her, holding her gently.
Blaize swallowed. “I thought they were going to kill you down there, Storm.”
Her arms linked behind my neck.
She kissed the cut on my cheek.
Shallow breaths rushed out through my nose. “You wouldn’t let that happen.”
With a greedy growl, Blaize rushed at me.
She kissed me like our lives were at stake. She clung to me, grasping my back as I two-handed her ass in the short skirt.
Grinding on me, Blaize orgasmed as soon as I drove my fingers into her top and cupped her tits, palming her nipples.
I wasn’t that lucky.
I wasn’t sorry, either.
Fuck.
The way she flew apart in my arms was so hot I’d never forget it, even if it were the first and last time.
So hot my belly quivered.
We devoured each other’s mouths. Gasping. Moaning. Her climax shattered my brain, reached down to my heavy ballsack, made my cock almost wreck my leathers to get out, get into her.
Blaize wound her arms around my neck and kissed me hard.
When she was done, she disengaged.
Didn’t regret that either.
Much.
She wasn’t a talker.
I wasn’t gonna force her.
Downstairs the outright dirty orgy continued. The happily ever after end of every good night at Thunder Road. I’d done my fair share of fucking in that room—and this one—with Nikki as my centerpiece tail.
The bad nights for the Legion crew ended in bloodbaths.
Blaize and I were still alive, so I counted this as a good night.
Giving her some privacy, I stepped out onto the balcony.
I was gonna strangle my cock to death tonight.
Leaning on the balustrade, I lit a smoke and drank from my personal stash. Whisky rolled down my throat as I watched late night wanderers on the narrow street below.
A presence behind me.
I didn’t go for the Sig Sauer snugged at my back.
I didn’t turn around.
“Go to sleep, Blaize. Been a long day.” I scented her, like a rutting animal, before she even said a word.
She slipped beside me, wearing little more than a tank top and panties.
I took another swig from the bottle.
She grasped it and glugged a drink. “Extra smoke?”
“This shit’ll kill you.” I tapped a cigarette then placed it at her lips.
My knuckles brushed her mouth, and I lit the cig.
She inhaled. Exhaled. “The game’ll kill us.”
“Not this time.” I leaned my forearms on the railing. “If we’re lucky.”
“Are you lucky much?”
“You’ve read my records. You know the score.”
Blaize’s feathery red hair brushed my arm. “You know I’ve never done an MC infiltration before?”
I brought her to my side, snugging her close. “Good thing this is my second time at the rodeo, huh?”
“I’ll take the chair tonight.” She tossed her smoke over the balcony before walking back into the room.
I turned to watch.
There is no way in hell I’m sleeping tonight.
“Really?” I braced my arms against the balcony doors. “I think I saw a cum-sock shoved under the cushion.”
She huffed, beaning one of the dirty porn mags at me. And went back to rooting through her precisely packed duffle for her bedroll.
“And the bottom side of the seat? Spooge stains.” I chuckled.
I could see why Blaize had made commander of T-Zone. The woman had serious ’tude, and what I wouldn’t give to unlock all her secrets. Every part of her body. Own her entire soul.
Putting out the smoke, corking the bottle, I shut us inside.
I brushed my teeth in the bathroom AKA Hazmat Zone. Scrubbed my face, my dick, my balls, my pits. Took a piss.
Blaize was conked out in her panties and tank top when I stepped back into the room. True to her word, she’d decided self-torture was the way to go, and lay corkscrewed in her bedroll on the fucking uncomfortable chair.
I dropped my clothes to the floor and pulled out my own bedroll, laying it on
the mattress.
I sat up, flipping my Zippo open and closed.
Tomorrow would be the real testing grounds.
Tonight? Child’s play.
No matter what Venom said, I wasn’t back in.
I was two steps away from getting shot in the face.
He was paranoid.
He had every right to be.
At 0200—when Blaize groaned in her sleep—I walked toward her. Soft footfalls. Hushed words of reassurance when she immediately got combative.
Fuck me.
I had to wonder what the woman had lived through.
She finally slumped against me. Her respiration slowed. She curled up when I settled back on the bed and placed her beside me. I retrieved her bedding and wrapped her in it.
“You’re safe. We’re good. Just you and me.” I stroked the hair from her neck, easing her back to sleep.
“Storm?” Bleary blue eyes opened to find mine.
“Yeah. Got you now.”
She fell back asleep in my arms.
Had to maintain appearances, didn’t we?
I was just following protocol.
Chapter Nine
The Blood Legion
BIRDS WERE CHIRPING. THE sun shining. And I had something warm and soft in my arms. Way better than a pillow.
Mmmm.
But the smell.
Fuck. Me.
I flicked one eye open.
Morning.
The Blood Legion.
Blaize in bed with me.
In the most rank room in the MC HQ.
Shutting out the stench, I concentrated on Blaize. Her russet hair spread all over my arms and chest. Her top leg hitched across mine, her knee perilously close to the heavy shaft of my cock. She laid half on top of me, her tits squashed against me, and a sliver of skin at her hip was soft beneath my palm.
Damn but she was beautiful.
Passionate.
And too strictly controlled.
Sleep made her lush and peaceful.
I lifted my free arm and peered at my watch, the face worn inside my wrist so it didn’t get damaged during heavy combat action.
0600. The denizens of the Thunder Road Bar slept late, maybe rousing around noon for a wake-up shot of alcohol before some greasy food. Then it was a lot of weight lifting in the courtyard where the fountain still flowed and plants flowered, care of Sol’s gardening skills.
Various members followed up on business in the evening and throughout the night. Sometimes we went on raids en masse. Sometimes there were deals to cut with new crews. Sometimes there were deliveries to be made and goods to pick up.
We spent a lot of time talking ten tons of shit in the barroom, sharpening our blades, cleaning our guns, and keeping tabs on the law just like they kept tabs on us. Meanwhile Venom holed up in his ramshackle office, counting money, cutting and weighing deliveries of cocaine, and shoveling more snow up his schnoz than was strictly profitable.
There was also always hardcore fucking to be had.
In fact, I was surprised Nikki hadn’t paid me a visit last night. She wasn’t above taking a competitor out. The woman had always been possessive with a capital L for loco when it came to me.
With Blaize riding shotgun on this op, and with her inhabiting my bed whether it was mission imperative or not, I had no intentions of seeking out Nik for a fast fuck. No matter what I’d said to Blaize.
Slowly disengaging from her, I slid from the bed. She immediately cozied up to the space I’d vacated.
Bed hog.
She was as bad as Walker when it came to snuggling. While I watched, she pushed her face right into my bedroll, and a contented smile flitted across her plump lips. Didn’t mind it one bit when it was Blaize. Hated waking up from sack-out time with Walker planted against my back.
He always blamed me.
Liar.
We all slept on a hairpin trigger. Walker was the worst. Any little noise and he’d bolt awake with his S&W in hand, ready to blow holes through brains. And the sleeptalking in fucking Arabic, Swahili, shit, sometimes even plain English—at least his night terrors had stopped after he’d hooked up with Jade.
I scooped my clothes from the floor and left the room bare-ass-naked after grabbing my gun, my knife, my shaving kit. All the essentials. Padding down the hall, I made it to the communal bathroom that was shiny, clean, even had rolls of toilet paper and dry towels.
Almost like the Ritz Carlton.
Not.
I did the routine quickly, scraping excess stubble from my cheeks and neck, keeping the edges of the black whiskers on the lower half of my face neat. Too bad about the bruises inflicted by Lennox, but I healed quickly. Shower, scrub, all the personals attended to in under ten minutes.
Leathers buttoned, boots shoved on, shirt filled out by my shoulders and chest, I stopped only to stow my gear in the bedroom.
Blaize sniffle-snored away, totally oblivious.
Bet she didn’t let that happen often.
Downstairs, the barroom was shiny and clean from last night’s late night debauchery.
I scratched my chin.
Huh. Must be a new prospect in the Legion.
Cleanliness is close to godliness was not the MC’s motto.
As predicted, Solomon sat on a chair outside Thunder Road’s front doors. He was eating a plate of savory smelling sausage he must’ve cooked up on the grill right next to him.
“Mornin’.” I lit a cigarette.
“Mm hmm. It be a fine one.” He chewed slowly and swallowed. “Dat wildcat din’t scritch you up last night?”
“Oh, I tamed her.”
He laughed.
I sat on the step beside him. “How you been, Solomon?”
“I got dem rickets and arth’ritis and maybe some crickets in my eardrums too, but I ain’t one takin’ to complainin’.”
“Venom treat you okay?” I glanced at the man who sawed a toothpick between his teeth.
“He ain’t like Ange’s papa. Ain’t so bad either. He let me do my thing. Take care of y’all. Gives me a place. Dat all I want.”
I inhaled deeply from my glowing cigarette. “I hear that. We all need a place.”
“Ain’t that the thing?”
“Can you do me a favor?”
“Does a fart float in water?”
“Probably if it’s down by the docks.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” He slapped his thigh. “What you need?”
“Just hang out by my bedroom ’til I get back? The old lady might’ve pissed a few folks off last night.”
“Sho’do. Head on up there right now. Just need somethin’ to grease my wheels.” He reached for a flask.
“I thought you said those were demon spirits.” I stood beside him as he got upright, his knees cracking.
Sol rattled the silver flask. “Demon spirit at the witching hour. Little motivation in the mornin’.”
I set off down the road on foot after looking over my Harley standing in a long file of other roadbeasts. The sun warmed the seat, and the helmets still hung in place on the ape hangers.
It only took twenty minutes to reach my destination and wander back to Thunder Road. The place was still shut up and quiet as a whorehouse during matins. Upstairs, as expected, Solomon sat on a chair beside my door.
“The mussus ain’t stirred one bit.” His tough, asbestos-like palm met mine. “You a good man, Storm.”
I closed the bedroom door quietly behind me, barely rustling the paper bag filled with aromatic pastries. Lounging against the doorframe, I waited until the scent of java woke Blaize.
Her nose wrinkled. She inhaled deeply. Her eyes popped open, and she propped up on my side of the bed brandishing her Walther.
“Damn, cher. Remind me not to sneak attack you again with beignets.”
“Beignets?” She hit the safety and placed the pistol aside. Pushing strands of bright red hair from her eyes, she sniffed again. “Does that mean breakfast?”
I pus
hed off the wall with an indulgent smile. “Peace offering?”
“Wait. How did I end up in bed?”
“You came crawlin’ for me.” I strolled closer.
“No way.” Blaize pulled the covers up to her waist.
Too bad I’d seen a lot of the goods last night.
“As the superior officer I thought you should have the bed?”
“Why does it smell like you?” Her cheeks flushed, and her gaze skittered aside.
“I slept beside you. And you wrapped your body right around me. Your leg over mine. Your lips at my neck.” I sat down next to her. “Had to shuffle out from beneath you earlier, in fact.”
She went rigid then lifted the blankets, peering down inside. I cocked my head and did the same damn thing.
She snapped the bedding up to her chin. “Where are the rest of my clothes?”
“Oh hell no. Can’t blame that on me. You got undressed right in front of me. Nice ass, by the way.” I opened the rustling bag and lifted out a beignet.
Taking a big bite, I swiped the sugared powder from my lips.
“Were you naked?” She locked target with my mouth.
“Yup. As a jaybird.” I took another large bite, savoring the fresh deep-fried dough.
“That is a serious breach of protocol.”
“Gotta say, I’m lovin’ the new protocol. The one where you’re my sexy MC babe. And I hold all the cards. And the beignets.”
She kicked out at me, intent on doing serious harm. I grabbed her ankle as she made a rush for the bag in my hand.
Hauling her around until she was seated against my chest, in my very awake lap, I held the white paper bag out of reach. “Now, now. No breakfast for unfriendlies.”
“Storm.” She looked back, arching an eyebrow.
I hooked mine up in response.
“Yes, ma’am?” Sipping my coffee with nothing short of satisfaction, I wrapped an arm around her belly.
“Please?”
Nice.
Wanted to hear her say that when pleading for my cock.
I handed over the bag, and Blaize went to town after she gulped her first drink of steaming coffee.
“Oh my God.” She spoke through a mouthful of fried pastry heaven.
“Right? Best beignets in Nawleans.”
“Oh my God!”
I settled more comfortably on the bed, drawing Blaize with me.
She wanted to talk strategy.