by Cathryn Cade
He lay laughing up at her, all warm and hard and strong, and she found herself smiling down at him like a fool. He filled his hands with her ass, and squeezed.
“Like you here, Red. Like your soft tits on my chest, and your pretty face smiling down at me. An’ just to say, you ever wanna ink me on your skin, I’m all for that.”
So was she, which was beyond weird, because while she’d love to have more ink, it had never involved a guy’s name or initials or anything. And she wasn’t even sure what was really happening here.
“I’ve always wanted a sleeve tat,” she blurted to distract him, because a certain light in his blue eyes said he knew what she was feeling. “Some flowers, or something.”
“Yeah? That’d be cool, if it was pretty colors like your butterfly. Y’know, I saw a chick the other day had a pretty top with a big butterfly on the front. We’ll have to go shopping, see if we can find you one of those. Get you some of those sexy undies too. And a leather miniskirt.”
“Like Sheena’s? You need to give that idea up. I do not wanna look like that bitch.”
His eyes twinkled, but instead of answering, he pulled her down for a long, sweet kiss.
Which led to other things, but instead of doing anything about the long, hard ridge prodding her in the belly, he sighed, and knifed up, taking her with him.
“Damn, I gotta get back downstairs. It’s almost four o’clock, the guys will be headin’ out. Wanna touch base with them before they leave.”
She moaned, still moving on him, her legs on either side of his hips. “We’ve got time,” she protested, her hands on his belt. “Please? Want you inside me. You owe me.”
He gave her a look, and pulled her harder against the ridge of his cock. “I owe you? Well, then, take me out fast, and I’ll pay up. But you’re gonna have to keep up, ‘cause I’m in a hurry.”
Her pussy clenched. “I can keep up.”
She had his jeans open, and his cock in her hands, thick and hard and prodding satiny skin, in no time.
With a growl, he yanked her panties to the side. “Put me in you, Red. And then ride me hard.”
Every part of her quivering with need, Kit put him to her entrance and sank down on him, taking him up deep inside her. Then she rode him hard, his big hands clutching her ass.
“Finger your little clit,” he ordered, leaning to nip at her nipples, protruding through her dress.
With a happy whimper, Kit fingered her clit as she rode him, his thick, hot length sliding inside her, so perfect, so right.
He came with a shout, and Kit rode him frantically through his orgasm, up, up and then over, her pussy clasping him in secret joy.
He waited till she was still, drooping forward on his shoulder like a wilted flower. Then he slapped her bare ass cheek. “Okay, up. Gotta get outside.”
Reluctantly, Kit climbed off of him, and he pulled her up with him to stand by the mattress. Both their phones chimed at the same time, Kit’s with a text from Lindi, and Keys’ a call from Jack.
He listened, his brows flying up as he gazed at Kit, then his face softened. “All right then, I guess we’re up,” he said. “Right. Later, bro.”
Lindi: Girl’s night is a go, 2morow nite! I have a room at the resort, and Jack is on for guard duty.
“Bodyguard service don’t come cheap,” Keys drawled. “Just remember that, Red. ‘Specially because you’re gonna have two guards on you--me and Remi. Which means later, you’ll really have us on you--payback.”
“Okay,” she breathed, heat suffusing her from her head to toe.
He groaned. “Fuck, babe, don’t look at me like that now. I’m getting’ hard again.” He turned and walked away, fastening his belt as he did so.
She smiled after him.
Kit: Keys is in too, and Remi.
Lindi: Holy wow. Maybe we can get them matching tees. Black with pink letters ‘bodyguards 4 babes?
Kit: LOL!! Doubtful.
Lindi: I have a dress 4 u. Love but doesn’t work 4 me.
Kit: Ok, what color?
Lindi: Think it’s purple? Maybe fyusha (sp)
Kit: Cool.
Lindi: Have guys bring u 2 my place at 7. Hair & makeup here.
Kit: OK. See u then. Wait, do you have to get up early?
Lindi: Nope. Hired frnd of Remi’s part time. Hr byfrnd got job here in CDA.
Yay, they could stay out late and Kit was off the hook for helping Lindi in the café. She loved Lindi, but she did not like bussing tables and balancing plates of hot food. Although she wasn’t thrilled that Remi had a female friend who would be working with him.
Kit hoped the chick was tight with that boyfriend of hers, and not chasing after Remi.
Still, girls’ night. Kit clicked off her phone and did a little dance in the middle of the floor, stopping when she nearly tripped over a pair of jeans.
In a burst of energy, she worked the room, tossing her and both men’s dirty clothing in a pile. It was time for them to do laundry—the place was beginning to smell like one of the back rooms at the Flyers’ clubhouse.
* * *
At eight o’clock the next evening, Kit and Lindi stepped onto Sherman Avenue in downtown Coeur d’Alene. It was a balmy eighty degrees, with enough clouds on the western horizon to create a pretty sunset over the lake, and enough breeze to stir the bright flowers spilling from the baskets hanging along the street.
The two of them rivaled the flowers for brightness.
Lindi wore a deep pink dress with a wide neckline that hit at her shoulders, then bared the top of her arms before clinging to the elbow. The dress was fitted in gathers to her upper thigh. She wore a pair of cream platform sandals and carried a tiny, matching purse with long fringe that danced as she walked.
Kit wore the prettiest dress she’d ever donned in her life. Of intense purple shimmery knit, a deep vee-neckline plunged, short sleeves bared most of her arms, and a flirty, gored skirt hit her well above her knees.
Lindi had styled her hair, pulling the front up and back in a pouf, catching it at the crown with a sparkly clip and curling it down her back in long, fat spirals.
Kit had had her ears pierced several months ago when her mom was feeling flush. She and Lindi had managed to force a pair of long, nearly weightless silver hoops through her piercings. Her ears tingled, but she felt so pretty it was worth the pain.
She wore her new flat sandals, but since she was taller than Lindi, this made them the same height.
Lindi had done her makeup too, glossy pink lips, a hint of blush on her cheeks, and eyeshadow that shaded from pale lavender on her upper lids to deep smoky purple next to her lashes, darkened with mascara. Her cheekbones were defined, and her eyes looked big and sexy.
She was totally going to have Lindi show her how to do this look for herself.
Several feet behind them stalked Jack, Keys and Remi.
Kit and Lindi giggled every time they caught a glimpse of their bodyguards in the windows of the stores, bars and restaurants that lined the main street.
Jack looked resigned to his fate, but both Keys and Remi wore hard, predatory gazes, and had since they first glimpsed Kit in all her glory. In fact, for a breathless moment, Kit had been certain that Keys was going to grab her from Lindi’s small living room, toss her over his shoulder and carry her off to the bedroom, followed by Remi.
But instead, Keys had watched her cross the room toward them, and uttered two quiet words as she passed. “Payback, Red.”
This caused Kit’s pussy to clench in a way that made her want to throw herself into his arms and beg him to do anything he wished, repeatedly. Remi had simply uttered a wordless growl that sent every hair on Kit’s body standing on end in breathless excitement.
Jack had driven them all downtown in the big SUV he’d purchased for Lindi. On the way, they’d been lectured about going to the ladies’ room together, etc. He parked in the resort lot, and then gave Lindi a hard look and a long kiss before letting the two of them walk ahead t
o their current destination, which was one of the nicer bars along Sherman.
Inside the bar’s open doors, they could see the entire place, as yet not too busy. A bunch of college boys lounged around one table with beer and wings, there were several couples, another table of middle aged women.
A tall, platinum blonde sitting alone at a small table. She wore a conservative black sheath, black stiletto heels with smoky stockings, and her long hair was wound up in a classic French twist. She looked like one of those early 70’s Bond girls, Kit thought, except for the fancy, silver and white gift bag sitting on the table by her purse.
“Sara!” The two hurried to her table, and the three hugged.
Sara exclaimed over Lindi’s ring, and handed her the gift bag, to be opened later, she said with a wink.
Then she surveyed the two of them with a smile that transformed her usually stoic face into beauty. “Wow. You two look amazing. Lindi, love the dress and those shoes! Kit ... I don’t know what to even say. Oh my God, you look so ... so grown up.”
Kit rolled her eyes even as she laughed. Trust conservative, follow-the-rules Sara to find a way to make her compliment about maturity.
“She looks hot!” Lindi corrected, squeezing Kit’s hand. “Smokin’ hot. To the point the guys barely let her out of the car.”
Sara nodded. “You do look gorgeous, Kit. That’s what I meant to say, really.”
Then her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open a little. “Uh, when you said ‘the guys’, did you mean ... those guys?”
Kit and Lindi turned. Jack, Keys and Remi had just walked into the bar, and they filled the doorway in a display of testosterone and muscle. Jack was glowering at the table of college boys, who had gotten louder when Kit and Lindi walked in. Keys and Remi were surveying the room as if checking for danger.
“Okay, that’s Keys,” Sara breathed. “But who’s the gorgeous Native American?”
“Remi,” Kit said proudly. “He works for Lindi. And he’s Keys, uh, friend.”
Lindi laughed at the look on Sara’s face. “Nice, huh? They’re our bodyguards for the evening.”
“But they promised to keep their distance,” Kit added. “‘Cause this is girls’ night out, not girls and scary guys.”
“You may want to remind them of that from time to time,” Sara said, watching in fascination as the three men prowled to the bar and mounted stools. “So dish. Why do you—we have bodyguards for the evening? I mean, I get that Jack is somewhat, uh, possessive, but this seems a little extreme.”
Lindi raised her brows at Kit, as if to say she got to explain this one.
“Right. We need drinks,” Kit said, and waved at the barmaid, who fortunately had managed to peel her gaze off the hotness at the bar long enough to approach their table.
Chapter Seventeen
Over lemon drops, Kit filled Sara in on an abridged version of what had been happening in her life for the last week. Sara was horrified and fascinated. She also wanted to call the local police right away.
“No,” Kit said, leaning over the table toward her friend. We can’t. It’s club business. The guys will handle it.”
Sara looked at the three men, and then shook her head dubiously. “Much as I appreciate the manliness of Jack and Keys, are you sure, Kit? This Bouncer sounds like a sociopath. The police are trained to handle people like him.”
Kit leaned further. “Sara, no. Do not say a word to anyone.”
Lindi tapped her arm. “Kit. Um, you might wanna sit up a little bit.”
“What?” Kit frowned at her.
Lindi was grinning. She cast a sidelong look toward the bar, and snickered. “You’re getting dirty looks from the BG’s. I think it has to do with your boobs trying to pop out of that dress when you bend over. Your butterfly is trying to fly free, if you know what I mean.”
Oops. Kit straightened, one hand on her cleavage. “BG’s?” she asked blankly.
“Body guards.”
Kit looked over and sure enough, both Keys and Remi were giving her the evil eye. She widened her eyes back at them, and received a narrow-eyed look from Keys and a head shake from Remi.
“Sheesh, we’re not even paying them and they think they can boss us around,” Kit said.
“Right,” Lindi said. “I heard Keys. You’re gonna be paying him back all right. Just like I will be Jack.”
Sara looked confused. “Keys? I thought you were with Remington, Kit. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since they walked in.”
“I noticed that too,” Lindi said. She and Sara exchanged a meaningful look.
“Here you go,” their cocktail waitress chirped, setting down a basket of wings and dip, and another of sweet potato fries.
“We didn’t order this,” Kit said. Although it looked and smelled delicious.
“From the gentlemen at the bar,” the waitress said. “They also asked me to bring you these.” She set three tall glasses of ice water on the table.
“Hey,” Lindi frowned. “They’re not in charge of us. Three more lemon drops, please.”
“Sure. Right away.” The waitress sashayed away, swinging her booty as she passed the three men. Kit rolled her eyes at this, then selected a wing and bit into it. It was delicious.
“So which one are you with?” Sara asked, munching a crispy sweet potato fry.
Lindi listened, all ears and eyes.
“No idea,” Kit said, taking another wing. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
Lindi frowned reprovingly, but then turned to Sara. “So what’s new at work?”
Sara worked in the DA’s office. She sighed heavily. “George is okay, but he just hired the new office manager from hell. I swear to God, the woman lives to make my life miserable.” She picked up her fresh lemon drop and took a drink. “For ten cents, I’d quit and go live on my gran’s property out of town, and ... and learn to knit, or crochet, or quilt or something. Live off my artisan wares.”
“Where’s the property?” Lindi asked.
“Airway Heights,” Sara said. “It’s actually kind of nice. Secluded, at the end of a road back behind another property with a big row of trees between the yard and the other house and buildings. A small house and big yard, both kind of ratty because it had no upkeep while Gran was in the nursing home in Spokane. But it’s ... peaceful out there.”
Lindi snorted. “Can’t be that peaceful with the Devil’s Flyers in town.”
Sara grimaced. “I know, right? But seriously, Airway Heights is not exactly population dense, and their compound or whatever is a couple of miles away. I hear Harleys out on the county road sometimes, but I don’t even know if that’s them, or just recreational riders. So I guess the sheriff department keeps them in check.”
“More likely their president does,” Kit said. “He’s one scary dude. A mountain of Russian muscle.”
“Pfft.” Sara rolled her eyes. “Most bikers don’t impress me much. Jack and Keys being the exception to the rule,” she added hastily. “Most bikers seem to be skinny, or fat and pot-bellied with gray hair. The toughest part of them is their matching leather vests.”
“Those are their cuts.” Kit grinned. “Hey, I know. You can go into leather work. Make custom cuts for the club and their old ladies. Lindi’s gonna need one soon.” And herself, possibly.
Lindi made a face. “I am so not wearing a vest that says ‘Property of Jack’.”
“Good, because I wouldn’t make you one,” Sara said. “That whole property thing sets back women’s rights at least a century!”
But to Kit’s surprise, Sara didn’t immediately poo-poo Kit’s idea altogether. “My dad used to do leather work in the basement when I was a girl,” she said, munching another fry with a faraway look in her eye. “Belts and stuff. Once he made a big purse for my mother, who wouldn’t carry it. It had a horse head tooled on the side, but she was more the beige handbag type. He let me fool around with his tools. I made myself a kind of envelope with my initials and some flowers.
I kept my little treasures in it. Wonder whatever happened to it?”
“I know,” Lindi agreed. “I used to have a decoupage box with my favorite things in it. Haven’t seen it since I was in high school.”
Kit ate another wing. She’d never had any treasures to keep in a box or anything else. Well, except for two faded photos of her dad in his Marines uniform. They were tucked carefully in an envelope in the side pocket of her duffel.
“So, shall we have another drink, or move on?” she asked. She felt a pleasant glow, but was by no means drunk, thanks in part to the snacks the guys had provided.
“Move on,” Lindi decided. “I want to dance. We’ll walk up the street to the Requiem, okay?”
Sara shrugged, and Kit hopped off her chair. “Sounds good to me. Let’s pay and we’ll go.”
“No need,” Lindi announced. “Jack’s paying.”
“We should be paying,” Kit protested. “We’re the bridesmaids. Right, Lindi?”
“Of course you are. But you wanna argue with Jack about the bill, go for it.” She waved an arm toward her fiancé, who sat with his legs spread, back to the bar, indulgent gaze on the three women.
“On second thought, no,” Kit decided. If there was one thing she’d learned while staying with Lindi and Jack, it was that he generally won any argument about money. And since he was a big, bad-ass biker man flanked by her two bad-asses, she was not gonna go there.
The three of them headed for the door. Jack was on his feet and out ahead of them, scanning the street before he let them out. Keys and Remi fell in on either side of them.
“Hey,” Lindi called. “Muscle to the rear, please. This is ladies’ night out, not corral the mares night.”
The three of them giggled at this until they could hardly walk. Jack ignored Lindi until they were safely across the street. Then he turned, gestured ironically for them to precede him, and waited. Lindi walked by with her nose in the air.
Kit gave Jack a grin, and he winked at her.
Sara shook her head. “Why do I feel like I’m in one of those silly old comedies?” she asked no one in particular.
“I know who’ll be gettin’ the last laugh,” said a deep voice behind them.