by Cathryn Cade
“I’m all ears, Red,” he said, his voice liquid with amusement.
“I--I said I didn’t want to live with knowing you got hurt because of me,” she said quickly. “That’s all.” Right. Cluck, cluck, big chicken.
He moved in, sliding one hand over her bare shoulder and up under her hair to cup the back of her neck. Kit shivered with sheer, electric pleasure at the possessive grasp. When he gave her a gentle squeeze, her nipples went hard, and a pulse of heat shot down between her thighs.
“Like I said, Red,” he told her. “You got a soft heart to go with your sweet body and gorgeous face. You know what else?”
She leaned into his grasp, breathless but this time for the best of reasons. “What?”
“Right now, I got you here in my place, where I can work out some of my aggravation. ‘Cause I gotta tell you, I am real aggravated with you.”
He leaned even closer, so his hot skin brushed her bare arm, and his breath tickled her temple. His scent, hard-working man, sweat and musk, filled her nostrils. “So choose. You want a spanking or a hard fucking? ‘Cause unless you say no, you’re getting one or the other right now.”
Every cell in her body went on red alert, and her pussy pulsed with sheer, aching need. “I--I want you to fuck me—please.”
Everything she’d done with both men thus far was just foreplay. She craved the real thing so much—no, she yearned.
He gave her a squeeze. “Good choice, baby. Now take off that pretty dress.”
She looked at him. “Right here?” It was quiet outside, as if the builders were taking their lunch break in the shade. They could be right outside.
He lifted a brow at her. “Did I say now? Then yeah, I meant here and now.”
She nodded, her excitement soaring. He had said right now. Oh, my God. He was going to have her here, where anyone could walk in the door and find them.
And she wanted him so badly she did not even care--in fact maybe it was even more exciting this way. Because anyone who saw them would see proof that he wanted her.
She grasped the skirt of her sun dress and pulled it up, tugging the snug, gathered top up over her breasts and then over her head.
He watched, his eyes hooded and intent, his face hard with lust. “Now the panties,” he ordered, his voice rough.
Kit hooked her fingers in the sides of her panties and pulled them down, then stepped out of them. She bent to pick them up and stood, holding them with her dress.
Keys took his time, surveying her all over, his gaze lingering on every part of her bare body. She felt it like a hot, graphic touch, stripping away her privacy along with her clothing, and leaving her raw, vulnerable and his.
“Over to the table,” he ordered. “Walk nice and slow, baby.”
Kit turned and walked to the kitchen area, her heart pounding with excitement. She looked back at him over her shoulder, and he looked up at her with approval, his gaze moving up over her legs, her ass and then her hair and face.
“You walk like a stripper,” he told her. “Sex walkin’—only with you, it comes natural. Man looks at you, all he thinks about is getting those long, curvy legs open, and getting his cock in there, in every way possible.”
She whimpered. Honest to God, if he didn’t follow up his talk with some action, she was going to scream.
He unfastened his jeans, freeing his cock, which leapt free, pronging the air between them. Kit licked her lips, eying it. So thick and long, so ready for her use.
He reached her, and palmed her ass. Then he lifted his hand and gave her a sharp smack. Kit flinched, and gave a squeal of shock, followed by a gasp of sheer pleasure as her pussy clenched. He did it again, on her other ass cheek.
“Owe you a spankin’. And if I didn’t want in you so bad, I’d take you over my knee right now, and you’d let me. Wouldn’t you?” He spanked her again.
Kit hung onto the table, and arched her back, thrusting her ass back at him. “Yes.”
He gave a low, growling laugh. “Yes, you would. Who’s your daddy, Red?” Smack, this time on her upper thigh. Then he slid his calloused fingers between her thighs, and delved into her labia.
“You are, Keys,” Kit whimpered. She spread her legs wider, and now she did arch her back for him, craving more of his touch, anyway he chose to give it.
He stroked her knowingly, rimming her opening and then teasing her with two fingers dipping inside her, then grazing her clit. “Again, Red. Say my name.”
“Keys. Oh, my God. Keys.”
“You want my cock here?” He thrust those fingers inside her, then grazed her clit again.
“Yes, please.”
“All right, baby, easy. I’ll give it to you.” He moved in behind her, his cock sliding between her thighs, hot satin skin quivering against hers. “All for you, Red.”
Kit dropped her head and rose onto her tiptoes, holding herself open and ready for him. He used his hand to position himself, then thrust into her. They both groaned, Kit’s voice high and soft over his deep growl.
“Fuck, so tight, so soft and wet,” he approved. “Soaking wet for me, that’s my sweet baby.”
He thrust again, and this time slid deep inside her. Kit flinched at the burn, because he was big.
“Fuck,” he muttered, petting her, stroking her hips, and her hair, gentling her, letting her adjust to him. “Been a while for you?”
She nodded, then moved, exploring the feeling of being so full of demanding male. Oh, she loved it. “It may have ... something to do with your size,” she added, her voice husky.
He gave her a squeeze, and stroked his hand around to her groin to cup her mons in his hand, his fingers exploring where they were joined. “Sweet,” he approved, bending to nuzzle his face in her hair. “My Red’s pussy is small and sweet.”
Then he found her clit and stroked it, and pleasure shot through her.
Keys groaned. “Jesus, felt that. Tightened up like a fist around me. You like bein’ fingered while your man fucks you. Good to know.”
Oh, yes she did. She loved it. And as he withdrew and thrust back into her again, she loved that even more. So much that she began to move too, rising back to meet his thrusts.
The table jolted under her hands, scraping on the cement floor. His groin and balls slapped against her ass, his cock worked with noisy succulence in her pussy. Their breathing was loud, punctuated by Kit’s breathy moans and Keys’ growls of approval.
All of this was like the best music she’d ever heard.
His arm supporting her, his cock in her sensitive depths, his fingers on her clit were everything she needed, all she could feel as pleasure tightened deeper and deeper, spiraling down inside her until they imploded, then burst outward through her body.
She cried out in wordless praise, and an instant later he followed, stiffening over her, in her like a drawn bow. Heat flooded her pussy as he came.
He leaned down, braced on one arm, his chest and face against her back, his cock still inside her.
“Holy fuck, that was ... so good,” he said, his voice vibrating against her spine.
“Hmm,” she agreed, so limp she could hardly stand up.
Then her stomach growled loudly, and he snorted with laughter. “Guess another part of you needs fillin’ too.”
Kit winced. But then she’d skipped breakfast, so no wonder. That was probably why she felt so dizzy too, like she wasn’t sure she could even stand up on her own. No fainting, that would be really embarrassing.
He pulled out of her, and supported her with his arm as they straightened. “I’ll make sandwiches,” Kit offered. “After I um, clean up.”
Keys dropped a kiss on her mouth and handed her her dress and panties. “Yeah, probably a good idea, ‘cause I just heard a vehicle pull in. And I’d say the guys are back, but it sounds more like a sports car.”
“Oh, shit,” Kit said. “It’s my mom and Velvet. I forgot to call and tell them not to come.”
She bolted for the bathroom.
Kit emerged from the bathroom freshened up, her hair tamed at least partially, and her eyes made up—though not as heavily as she usually did, because when both men had said they didn’t like it, Kit realized she’d been modeling her heavy eye-makeup after her mom and the other club women, not exactly models of good taste and moderation. No matter what the guys said, she wasn’t giving up eye makeup altogether, but she could tone it down.
She stroked on enough mascara to make her lashes show up all the way to the ends, because she had long lashes but only the roots were dark, then they lightened to blonde at the tips. She smudged on a little peach shadow Lindi had given her, but that she’d never used. Which probably meant Lindi had been trying to send a hint too.
Surveying herself, she decided she liked the new look. She straightened her dress, gave herself a guilty smile, because her eyes also had that ‘I just got me some’ heaviness, and exited the bathroom.
Only to find that the visitor was not Velvet and Deni. It was another redhead—although Kit was certain the woman’s color came straight out of a bottle, and her boobs from a surgeon.
For all Keys’ talk about the natural look, her artificiality seemed not to bother him one bit. He was escorting the woman across the shop with his hand at her back, and he was chuckling at something she’d said, in a way that said they knew each other well.
Something extremely unpleasant writhed in Kit’s belly. The other woman was petite, her head reaching Keys’ shoulder—just the right height to make a man feel big and macho—and even under her heavy makeup, she was gorgeous in the flamboyant, ‘I’m a stripper’ look so many bikers favored in their women.
But if this woman was an old lady, she wasn’t local, because Kit had never seen her before.
She wore a black leather mini-skirt—the kind Keys had been threatening to buy Kit, which added another layer of sick to the twist in Kit’s gut—high boots with stiletto heels, and a tight, low-cut red and black top that left little to the imagination. She was also flashing enough gold jewelry to open her own Macy’s counter.
“Well, who we got here?” the woman asked Keys in a sultry, cigarettes-and-whiskey voice, looking Kit over with narrowed eyes. “A little friend of the club?”
“Yeah, this is Kit,” Keys said casually. “Here, have a seat, Sheena. Babe, grab us a couple beers, yeah?”
Kit blinked. Grab them a couple of beers? Like the other woman was club royalty and Kit really was the whore the other woman had just labeled her?
Friends of the club were the girls—idiots in Kit’s opinion—who hung around the club, doing favors such as cooking and cleaning. They were thus invited to ‘hang out’, which translated, service any biker who happened to want them anywhere, anytime.
Kit saw them around, especially at parties, looking pleased with their lot. But since she’d jump off the bridge over Spokane Falls rather than become one herself, she sure as hell did not appreciate being thus labeled.
And Keys hadn’t even bothered to correct the woman. That was not gonna slide. Kit might be a lot of things, but a doormat wasn’t one of them.
Sheena took the seat Keys held for her at his battered table and fluffed her artfully tousled hair with long, crimson nails. “Sure, I’ll have a beer. With a glass, girl.”
When Kit did not move, Keys raised his brows as he lounged in the chair beside the other woman. “Red? You wanna get those beers sometime today?”
All right, that was it. Kit let her mouth drop open, forming an ‘o’ like she really was a stupid slut.
“Sure thing, daddy,” she crooned in a breathy voice, flapping her lashes at him.
She walked to the fridge, pulled out two bottles of beer, and popped them open on the edge of the counter. Smacking them down on the table—without a glass, because the woman could get one herself if she wanted it—she leaned on Keys’ chair and twined a lock of hair around her finger. “Can I make myself a sandwich now, Keysie? You know I get so hungry after you do me.”
Keys, who had his bottle to his lips, nearly choked on his mouthful of beer. He swallowed and gave her a look from under his lashes that promised retribution. “Knock yourself out, babe. You can make some lunch for us too.”
Sheena took a long swig of beer, looked from Keys to Kit and then threw back her head and let out a husky, ribald laugh.
“I like her, Keys, I do.” She winked at Kit, still chuckling. “You give him hell, honey. These bikers get to thinkin’ they’re God’s gift, it’s up to us to remind we got brains as well as boobs, and our mouths ain’t just for suckin’ them off.”
She gave Kit another once-over, this time with what looked like more respect. “I see it now, how the trouble with Bouncer started. That innocent farm girl look, with those boobs and legs—that gets to all of you men, don’t it, Keys?”
“I’m no farm girl,” Kit shot back, dropping her act. “But I can call bullshit when I hear it.”
Sheena shrugged. “I hear you on that.”
Keys took another drink of beer. “Fuck me. Two bitches givin’ me lip now.”
“I don’t see any ‘bitches’ here,” Kit shot back, sketching exaggerated air quotes just to provoke him further. “Just two ladies. Now Sheena, can I offer you a sandwich, since I’m making myself one?”
Sheena laughed again. “Thanks, hon, that’d be good. Drove all the way up from the Tri-Cities this morning, and I’m starved.”
Keys gave Kit’s ass a possessive squeeze. “Make me one too, Red. And you can dish up some of that potato salad Remi brought us.”
Kit wondered how many of Remi’s bottled hot peppers she could sneak into Keys’ sandwich without his delivering that threatened spanking, right in front of his guest. She was about to find out.
“So now that I’m here, I see what the problem is,” Sheena said to Keys. “She’s me, ten years ago.” Uh, more like twenty years ago, Kit thought.
“Nothin’ has happened though,” Keys told her. “Don’t know what you heard, but he has not touched her, so no need for you to save face, Sheena. No hair pullin’, no face scratchin, you get me?”
Good advice, because Kit would take the bitch down if she tried, although those long nails were a little scary.
Instead of taking offense, the woman laughed again. “Ah, Keys, you remember me too well, darlin’. I’ll admit I slapped a few bitches down in my day. But once they learned their place, I always tossed them a bone.”
Kit’s hands worked automatically, building sandwiches from ham, cheese, lettuce and tomato, even as she rolled her eyes at this. Who the hell was this woman? Could she be the old lady who’d taken off for parts unknown, leaving Bouncer in her dust? Kit had the urge to go see if a gold Firebird was parked outside.
“And I repeat, nothin’s happened,” Keys repeated. “So if you’re back, go ahead and make your play. No one in your way.”
Sheena snorted. “Only ‘cause she’s faster than him, I’m sure. The bastard’s always had an eye for auburn.”
“He’s still carrying a torch for you, that’s why,” Keys said easily. “After you left, he started partying hard, fightin’ and ridin’ like the devil was after him. Think he even caught Bounce a time or two.”
“And I’m sure he’s been fucking around real hard, too. I know how you Flyers are.” Her voice had hardened.
This was true. Bouncer had been with plenty of women in the time Kit had been around the club. Even the sleaziest bikers always seemed to have at least one woman hanging on them.
With Keys, she got it. He was hot biker personified, the kind who made every woman he met crave a walk on the wild side.
Bouncer, on the other hand ... yikes. If Sheena wanted him, she could have him with Kit’s blessing.
“‘Course it’s not like I been sittin’ at home evenings, either, if you know what I mean.” Sheena purred.
Yeah, and Kit bet the woman would run upstairs to Keys’ mattress in a hot minute if he crooked his finger.
Keys held up one h
and. “I do not wanna know that. Come what may, Bouncer’s my brother.”
Kit carried the sandwiches to the table, making sure Keys got his ‘special’ sandwich, added napkins and forks, and set the potato salad on the table.
“Thanks, hon,” Sheena said. “I’ll just go use the little girl’s room before I eat.”
She walked away, and Kit glared at Keys. He’d better have a damn good explanation for his behavior.
But he avoided her gaze and picked up his sandwich. He took a big bite of his sandwich, chewed, and stopped, his eyes widening. He picked up his beer and took a drink, then coughed and pounded on his chest.
“Jesus,” he croaked. “What’d you put in these?”
“What’s wrong, Keysie?” she asked in her do-me voice. “You don’t like the way us little friends of the club make sandwiches? Can’t handle the heat?”
She took a big bite of her own sandwich and chewed, hard, pretending it was his ass.
He took another drink of beer, and pointed the bottle at her. But before he could speak, someone pounded on the shop door and opened it
“Kit,” called her mother. “Are you in here?”
“There she is.” The woman who strode into the shop ahead of Kit’s mom was short and thin, with six inches of added height from the platinum blonde hair teased up and over to the side of her head, with a sparkling silver comb holding it there, to cascade down to the opposite shoulder. She wore a skimpy white tank that revealed skin tanned by decades of sun, and white jeans with an abundance of silver trim over high-heeled sandals.
There was nothing soft about her, especially her cigarette-roughened voice. Kit had always considered her name, Velvet, to be a serious mistake made on the part of the woman’s parents. But despite her sharp manner and gruff voice, she’d always been kind to Deni and Kit.
Except that what Velvet knew, the entire club knew. Bouncer already knew Kit was hiding out here. Now everyone else would know Kit was with Keys—and they’d probably assume the worst, just as Sheena had, that he was just using her until he tired of her.