Fighting Dirty (Blind Jacks MC Book 2)

by J.C. Valentine

  Loving that idea more than was prudent, considering their dangerous situation, she responded playfully, “Or we could make a little Ryder.”

  Seeming a bit preoccupied, he muttered, “That would be real nice, too.” A moment of silence spun out between them. Just when she was beginning to wonder what he was thinking about, he said, “I’m gonna fuck you stupid now, ‘cause I’m about to goddamn explode.”

  Why, oh why, had she ever thought this man was less than perfect? Lifting one of her legs, he slid it over his shoulder, and then lifted her hips from the bed. She recognized the pose. The first time he’d ever used it, she thought he was mimicking something he’d seen in a skin flick. Three thrusts in, and she began thinking of it as his set-the-sheets-on-fire position. It was truly one of her favorites. Running his tongue slowly over his bottom lip, she could see a thick layer of lust covering his excited expression.

  Looking down to the place where their bodies joined, Ryder pulled out and immediately slammed back in. His upper lip came up slightly in a sexy snarl as he set a steady pace.

  Bringing her hands up, Tiffany braced herself against the headboard. A good, rough fuck by a gorgeous biker was the one thing she was missing in life. And Ryder never was one to disappoint her in that regard.

  Arching her back, she enjoyed the way Ryder’s broad, muscular shoulders looked hovering over her. His hand came down on her mound, and a thick, meaty thumb began circling her clit.

  She gritted out, “Do not make me scream in my mother’s house.”

  Ryder’s chest puffed up with pride, and he proceeded to speed up his rough thrusting and adjusted his trajectory slightly until he was sliding across her G-spot with each stroke.

  “Too much, baby. It’s too much,” she moaned.

  “I already told you, sweetness. Only the biggest and best cock is good enough for my woman.”

  Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate on something else. Nothing could possibly distract her from the proper sex Ryder was intent on ensuring she had.

  “Open those pretty blue eyes,” he commanded. “I need them on me. Better yet, watch me fuck you.”

  Unable to resist his softly spoken command, Tiffany pushed herself up onto one elbow. Watching his thick cock moving in and out of her body was not only strangely hypnotic, but it was also kicking up her arousal to absurd levels.

  “You like having a biker’s cock in your pretty pink pussy?”

  “God yes,” she hissed. “Don’t stop.”

  “Stop? Not a chance,” he swore. “I’m only getting started, baby.”

  Coming down on top of her, he jerked his chin to the headboard. Knowing what he wanted, she braced herself against the headboard again.

  Kissing the side of her neck, he whispered seductively, “Nothing in the entire world feels better than you coming around my cock.”

  “Love it when you talk dirty, baby,” Tiffany murmured through her lust-filled haze. Lifting her other leg, she made room for him to settle in deeper.

  Ryder, having an opportunistic streak a mile wide, immediately took advantage of her generous offer. Bringing his hand down, he began stroking her tender bud as he sucked on one pointed nipple. When he nipped at her breasts, she felt herself almost shatter.

  “Come for me, Tiff. Let me feel your soft, warm body choking my cock.”

  As if his filthy words controlled her mind and body, she bowed off the bed under him with the force of the mind-blowing orgasm. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her as he pounded out his own orgasm. It didn’t take long before his hips came to a stuttering stop and he went deep, filling her with his seed.

  “Damn, woman, you slay me every single time.”

  ~ Tiffany ~

  Sitting at the breakfast table, Tiffany enjoyed the slight ache between her legs. Feeling like every inch the pervert, she squeezed her thighs together, just to feel the tiny reminder of where the man she loved had been for the better part of the night.

  Slipping an extra piece of French toast onto the edge of his plate, she poured him some more orange juice. Ryder had turned into an eating machine of some sort. It made her chest hurt to think that he’d been neglecting himself because he was so worried about her. Nibbling on her own food, she listened to the conversation swirling around her.

  Hickory spoke between mouthfuls of food. “I went over the information your father gathered, Tiffany. It looks like your ex is skimming cash off his father’s business and has been for years.”

  Her mother interjected, “I don’t think his father would press charges if he knew.”

  Ven spoke up next. “The IRS might object to him never claiming or paying taxes on that money.”

  Sarah sighed. “We thought about that. His family would offer to pay restitution, and he’d get off with light sentencing.”

  Tiffany found herself speaking without intending to. “We need to have a look in his basement.”

  Everyone turned to look at her. Pushing past her initial propensity to freeze up, she cleared her throat. “Sometimes, he used to put me down there.”

  Ryder’s rough voice urged her to be honest. “Tell them, Tiff.”

  Glancing away, she clarified. “When I ran, he’d find me and bring me back. I remember him saying that if I wanted to wander off like a stray dog, he’d treat me like one.” Reaching up to touch her throat, she could almost feel his collar around it. “He’d put a pink leather, gemstone-encrusted collar around my neck and use a metal chain to tie me up on his back porch. I usually had to stay out there a day or two as punishment. He took great pleasure in bringing my food and water in little jewel-encrusted dog bowls.”

  He mother’s hands few to her face, and a strangled cry broke from her lips. Hickory jumped up to kneel beside her.

  Tiffany quickly explained. “They weren’t dishes dogs ate out of or anything like that. They were bought specifically for me and had my name inscribed in gilded lettering along the side. He always made sure my food was delicious, high quality, and fresh. He got off on watching me chained up like a pretty little naked pet, eating the food he’d prepared from beautiful dishes. That particular game was all about lording control over me. He’d groom me like a prized poodle and decorate my body with jewels fit for a queen. He’d even swat me with a rolled-up newspaper if I was bad.”

  Her mother’s voice croaked out indignantly, “Your father would roll over in his grave if he knew all that.”

  Tiffany wrapped her arms around her stomach. “He knew. Dad found me chained up the last time I ran. I was thoroughly humiliated, but he was just furious. That’s when he came up with all my rules for the road.”

  Tiffany explained the lengths her father went through to enable her to jump from one location to another. The three men and her mother gaped at the complex system that had ruled her life for so many years. Picking up a piece of toast, she nibbled on it just to have something to do.

  After a few seconds of stunned silence, Ven asked curiously, “Did he ever beat you?”

  “He did everything a person could imagine,” she told him. “He had a million games, and some were quite violent. If I didn’t play them just right, I got punished.”

  Ryder finally spoke. “I’m gonna go with Rose’s plan of holding him down and cramming gingerbread cookies down his throat.”

  His father’s head snapped up. “What?”

  Tiffany explained quietly, “The first time I left, it was during Christmas, and he taunted me with the gingerbread boy story, telling me to run as fast as I can. Like I said, he loved his sick games. Sometimes, he’d send me gifts of a gingerbread girl, hoping to spook me.”

  Her mother frowned. “I guess that explains why you sent him cut-out gingerbread men with all the heads chopped off.”

  Nodding, Tiffany gestured with one hand. “I tried to turn all his own games around on him.”

  Staring at her, the older woman asked, “Why do you think we need to see his basement?”

  “He has these rooms with metal doors. I was
only ever allowed in the front part. He’d go down there for hours off and on. I don’t know what he did, but I’m betting it was something awful.”

  Ryder’s head tilted slightly. “What do mean by awful?”

  Shrugging, she took a quick drink of tea before answering. “Maybe it’s an evil lab where he pulls the wings off flies, builds crazy robots, or makes zombies. I don’t know. It could be where he keeps a stash of illegal guns and exotic porn. Even knowing him the way I do, I don’t have the ability to imagine what kind sick things he’s doing down there. All I know for sure is that he has the place locked down like Fort Knox.”

  Hickory threw in his two cents’ worth. “For all we know, it could be a personal gym and man cave.”

  “I’m in a mood to begin taking some things on faith,” Ryder said. “We got nothing so far. To me, this looks like a promising lead.”

  Tiffany’s heart squeezed at Ryder’s open acceptance of her suggestion. “I’ve racked my brain, and this is the only thing that I can think of that might yield the results we’re looking for.”

  Ven shoved his empty plate back. “We can’t go breaking and entering, ‘cause whatever we find will be considered poisoned fruit.”

  Tiffany knew what the man meant. Evidence found illegally was considered fruit from a poisoned tree and wasn’t admissible in court. Stuart would get off scot-free.

  Her mother leaned over and stated in a low voice, “Stuart has been calling. He told me to let you know you are welcome to come back to him when you’re finished slumming with the white-trash bikers.”

  Letting the crazy man’s insult slide for the moment, Tiffany felt hope surge through her chest. “If he invited me, then it wouldn’t be breaking and entering. We could record him telling me that, and then I could sneak over and—”

  “Not a chance, sweetness. No recording shit and sneaking around. You meet him in public and let him invite you home in front of a bunch of witnesses. Tell him you miss him, and you’ll think it over,” he said, a plan taking shape. “While he’s at work, you show up at his place unannounced, with us, and we have a little look around. There’s nothing illegal about you inviting friends over.”

  Swallowing thickly, Tiffany nodded. “If he sees you with me, he’ll be suspicious.”

  Sarah placed her napkin neatly on her plate and looked around at her guests. “We’ll go shopping and stop by that fancy restaurant he always has lunch at. Everyone within earshot will be eavesdropping.”

  Tiffany agreed. “Stuart is considered high society around these parts, so people are always fascinated by him.”

  Ryder grabbed her hand, looking all kinds of serious. “You just have to remember to be the cloyingly innocent, demure young lady he remembers, instead of the badass, sexy bitch you’ve become under my watch.”

  Tossing him an indulgent smile, she murmured, “There was a bit of bragging in there, I think.”

  Grinning, Ryder leaned back in his seat. “Not all fuckers can handle a real woman, baby girl. We can’t have you scaring off your crazy stalker until I’m sure he won’t come bouncing back.”

  “How do you manage to work a compliment for yourself in every talking point?” she questioned with a chuckle.

  “Guess I’m headstrong, cocksure, and don’t really understand the whole concept of low self-esteem,” he quipped.

  His father’s brusque voice broke into their flirting. “My annoyingly confident son is correct, Tiffany. You do need to lure him in with a quaint mixture of careful ego stroking, longing, remorse, and purity. Maybe mix in some complaints about how low class bikers are and how much you miss eating gourmet treats out of his hand. He’ll know what you mean by that. Tell him you’ve been doing all that awful stuff to get his attention.”

  A queasy feeling churned in her stomach. “I don’t think he’s going to buy that.”

  “Sure he will,” Ven said confidently. “Pretend to pout like a child. The twisted fucker will eat that right up. Trust me on this.”

  Ryder pointed to his father inconspicuously with one finger and mimicked his voice. “Yeah, Tiffany, trust my old man to know all about what twisted fuckers like to hear from hot women.”

  “You are dying to get yourself into a throw down with your old man today, aren’t you, babe?”

  Ryder shot her a heated look. “I think I forgot something in your room.”

  Hickory, who was still kneeling by Sarah, came swiftly to his feet. “Not a chance, stud. I actually had to take Sarah for a ride last night to get away from your loud marathon sex. Our attorney is flying in this morning, and we need to meet with him to get pointers on how this needs to go down to stay legal.”

  “Fine by me, ‘cause I want to put this whole mess behind us so we can get on with our lives,” Ryder said with a shrug of his wide shoulders.

  Getting down to the business of looking the part, Tiffany pulled out one of her old suits. It was a black, monochrome-colored suit with tailored wool dress pants, a matching sleeveless angora sweater, and a fashionable long coat that came down to her knees. She paired it was a pair of black boots and began choosing gold accessories to liven up the outfit.

  After shopping at a couple of local shops with her mother, they slid into the restaurant they knew Stuart frequented. Noticing that his table was empty, she directed the hostess to seat them there. The woman reluctantly did so.

  Tiffany and her mother ordered drinks, and she folded her hands in her lap, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. Anxiety surrounded over whether or not Stuart was going to buy her wanting to come back to him, not because of any real fear of him. He’d terrorized her for so long, something in her brain just decided not to bother with producing a fear response anymore. It was weird, but to the best of her knowledge, that’s what it felt like was happening.

  Tiffany knew the moment Stuart stepped through the door because the people at surrounding tables who had been eyeing her turned to look at him. Carefully avoiding looking in his direction, she waited for him to approach the table. The moment he stepped close, she stood and dropped a kiss chastely on his cheek.

  Eyeing her suspiciously, he sat in his seat. “What are you doing here, Tiff?”

  Sarah spoke up politely. “I gave her your message, and she insisted on dropping by to speak with you.”

  “Is that true, Tiffany?” The cold, derogatory tone of his voice brought back unwanted memories.

  Lifting her coffee cup with a trembling hand, Tiffany took a sip. “I wanted to hear you say the message yourself.”

  Waving away the server with an imperious slashing motion, Stuart slid her coffee over in front of himself. “Nothing has changed, kitty. I’ve always wanted you back at my side. You know that.”

  “Well, I’ve been giving it some serious consideration,” Tiffany lied smoothly.

  “Tired of those white-trash bikers?” he asked smugly.

  “They’re nice in their own way,” she said with a casual shrug. “You can’t really expect a woman who’s been used to a civilized life with a gentleman to be happy living among outlaws.”

  “I knew that was just a phase you were going through. I never lost hope that you would accept one of my generous offers to reunite. However, you’ve been a bad kitty lately, haven’t you, love?”

  Glancing down at the bare table where her coffee cup should be, Tiffany tried to sound submissive. “I was just playing around, trying to get your attention and impress you.”

  “Well, it was annoying,” he said with a fission of anger. “I can’t just let something like go. There will be repercussions for your poor behavior. You’ll have to earn my forgiveness.”

  Clearly unable to keep it together now that she knew what Stuart’s coded language meant, Sarah stood. “I’m going to go to the powder room and give you two a chance to talk privately.”

  Tiffany’s heart ached for her mother. She should have never been caught up in a situation like this. Trying to wipe the angry expression off her face, she refused to look up.

 
“I think you’re playing me, Tiff. I’m not some ignorant biker,” Stuart informed her.

  Tiffany knew she’d have to play more than the innocent fool to get him to play ball. Schooling her expression, she lifted her eyes to look at him through her long lashes. “I’m not the same innocent little teen that fell in love with you, Stuart. I’ve spent years learning to miss all the special things you had to offer.”

  His eyes were riveted on her. “What kind of things, kitten?”

  Leaning toward him, she waited for him to move closer before whispering, “You have a nice touch, and I miss having your hands on me. You know just how to please a woman and just how to apply a little bite of pain to accentuate the moment. No man really comes close to you, and this little kitten misses her big tom cat.”

  Pulling back, she watched his nostrils flare, and a look of pure lust jumped onto his face. “You’re playing with fire, kitten. Are you sure you can handle me?”

  Dropping her gaze again, she murmured, “I honestly don’t know. You were heavy-handed with me, and a lot of that wasn’t really necessary. I miss being with you, and some of the games we played were really nice. Others kind of scared me. You’re so big and strong, Stuart. I think sometimes you underestimate your strength.”

  Appearing conflicted, his voice shook when he spoke. “We were too young when we first got together, sweet kitten. I wasn’t a good master…I mean husband. I know that now. I had a lot of stress in my life, compartmentalized too many things, and some of my insecurity spilled out onto you. I won’t let that happen again.”

  “I want to believe you, Stuart,” she said demurely.

  “We can play only the games you like, kitten,” he insisted.

  “Can I think about it?” she asked softly. “I want to make a good choice this time.”

  Sliding her half-empty cup of coffee back in front of her, he smiled gently. “Sure, kitten. Take as much time as you need. Let’s just call a truce in the meanwhile, okay?”