Road Warriors (Motorcycle Club Romance Collection) (Bad Boy Collections Book 4)

by Faye, Amy

  His fingers dug into her hair taking a fistful and using it to force her head where he wanted it. Lara couldn't help letting her voice out a little bit as he fucked her face, claiming her as his. Some part of her kept repeating in her mind that she should have known better. That she wasn't going to be taken in like she was before. But she was going to be, she knew. That was the reality.

  His cock moved into her mouth, entering her throat. She was practically choking on it and she didn't think she could have made him stop if she wanted to. She didn't think that she could have stopped herself if he was trying to stop her, either.

  She slurped as he pulled back and then he entered her mouth again. Taking her. If she wasn't going to be his, and he wasn't going to be hers, then she could at least outdo that stupid bitch of a stewardess.

  Tears started to run down her cheeks, purely from the sensations shooting through her. She pulled herself away, climbed up and rubbed herself against his hard cock, slick with her saliva and pressing against her through the sheer fabric of her hose she enjoyed the feeling of him against her.

  Paul didn't wait, apparently didn't have any interest in teasing. He grabbed her hose and ripped. He seemed to be experienced with it. She rubbed back again and the feeling of his skin directly on hers, even before he entered her, was electric.

  He lowered his hips as she pulled forward, and when she pushed back again he entered her easily, between her own arousal and the wetness of his cock. She rocked back and forth, her weight pressing constantly to get his cock to hit her right where she wanted it, to take the pleasure as much as she could. His lips found her nipples and bit down.

  Lara bit down on her finger again. She had never been quiet during lovemaking, but then she'd never been surrounded by so many people, so many of them who must have been wondering whether or not she was fucking him.

  Well, they would have their answer as soon as they came into the front cabin, she supposed. Was that a problem? She didn't know. It could cause trouble for Paul if it got out, but so could any of the other affairs that she knew he was having. There must have been plenty. But here she was, no doubt almost twice their age, and she was the one that had him this time.

  There was a sort of feral victory in that. She moved harder, faster. His mouth unlatched from her breast and his head pressed back into the chair as she moved. His breath came in hard rasps and his hips moved to meet hers with every thrust, anticipating her coming back by a second as the orgasm that was building inside him threatened to overtake him.

  Lara was close, too, she knew. There was one thing that would do it. One thing that had always done it. It had gotten her into trouble once, and if she had kept track properly, today was the furthest thing from a safe day.

  The very idea made her shudder, sent her spiraling closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm that had been building up in her the entire time.

  "Lara," he breathed. "You should-"

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  1

  Paul Green watched out the window of the private plane. There was nothing else to be done yet. They had a good sense of how much needed to be done, and he was going to do it. That was enough, for now. Four months out of the election and he'd already gotten through all the trouble that they could throw at him.

  If his opponents wanted to make something up, sure. They could do that. But otherwise, he'd been careful since he entered the public eye. Helen looked over and smiled. There wasn't a hint of anything in that smile. It was like a mask that she was putting on.

  "Ready?"

  He took a breath and wished that there was anyone else on the other side of the plane, next to him. There were a thousand women he'd rather have been with. Women whose names he didn't even know had been better company than his wife.

  "We'd better do this," he said, his voice low and tired. He had to put on a face for the public. A face that never tired, a face that moved as fast as the nightly news coverage did. A political candidate for a generation raised on MTV, where thirty seconds was too long to pay attention.

  She kissed his cheek. Paul dutifully allowed it. They'd never had children, and there were a thousand reasons for it. Even at her most drunken, Helen had never let him touch her. She seemed disgusted by the entire idea, and as Paul looked at her, a body like a boy's and a heart made out of a lump of coal, he wasn't much less put off by it on his part.

  He turned away and she put a hand on his shoulder. Her grip was tight and she pulled until he turned back to face her. "Something wrong, dear?"

  Her expression was dark and angry. Like it usually was, he thought, but he kept his thoughts inside his head. "Don't you fuck this up for me, you fucking asshole. I'm counting on this."

  "Yes, dear," he said. Maybe once he had been put off by that attitude, too. As if she were owed something. As if he owed her something. But now it was something that he was used to. Something he'd known when he was still just a Utah District Attorney.

  Helen was a useful fighter to have in your stable. Anything beyond that was beyond her. She couldn't be nice, no matter how badly she wanted to. She couldn't be a lover. She wasn't capable of that sort of passion. She wasn't someone he loved.

  But Paul had moved past love. That was something that he couldn't feel himself any more. The last time he'd felt anything for anyone, she'd disappeared and taken what little hope he had to escape from the prison of his future with her.

  So instead he substituted it. Like he was doing right now. He substituted respect for affection and hoped that it would work. Then he stepped up to the door to the plane. A pretty young cocktail waitress smiled at him because she no doubt thought that their time together meant more than it did.

  "Are you ready?"

  Helen nodded and they stepped out. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she wrapped an arm around his waist and for a moment, maybe, they looked affectionate. Paul couldn't wait to get his hands back to himself. Once the campaign was over, she could take a little time to herself, and he could take a little time for himself.

  "Senator!" A thousand shouts went up all at once as he walked down the steps and up to a podium set up for him to give a speech. "Senator, what do say about the recent allegations of the President has been working with foreign leaders to undermine American trade?"

  Paul took a deep breath and looked across the crowd. It was the same faces that it always was. He could name them all–in spite of that, he didn't like any of them, either. Part of him asked why he was doing this for the hundredth time. Then he repeated the memorized list of reasons why he was doing it.

  Someone needed to be President. That much was clear. Someone needed to do it, and he wanted it. He'd wanted it since he was a boy. He was as good as anyone else. Apparently, if the recent allegations were true–the word had been circulating Washington a lot longer than it had been circulating the press corps–then he was better than some. Better than the incumbent.

  He knew what he wanted out of it, too. He wanted to get important stuff through. If he could just solve the health care problems, and nothing else, that would be enough. If he could just take care of student debt, that would be enough.

  Paul's list of things that needed fixing were as long as the pre-flight checklist that they had to go through, four or five times a day, and if he could just cross one of them off the list then would be an actual improvement.

  That was why he was doing it. Because those problems needed solving, and he had solutions. He took a deep breath and repeated the question in his mind before he started speaking. 'What do you say about the allegations…?' His position on the security committee gave him a unique look into those allegations. He knew them to be true. But that wasn't the right answer.

  "President Noble has an excellent track-record and of course he only has the best interests of the American people at heart. I'm as surprised by these recent allegations as any of you, but if, by some strange turn of fate, they
turn out to be true, then I'm as aghast as any of you, too." He put his hands on the podium. They were shaking from tiredness and his body wanted to stop. But he couldn't afford that. "The American people have the right not to be sold out, as you know. I hope that the FBI will be able to identify and root out the source of this rumor and verify it, or definitively put it to bed."

  His heart started beating hard the minute that he saw her. It wasn't certain right away–not entirely. But someone at the edge of the press corps, in the peanut gallery, looked terribly familiar. A memory of ten years ago. Salt Lake City and the last time he'd felt better than 'doing what he had to do.'

  As he glanced again, looking harder while trying hard to seem like he wasn't looking… he was sure. Lara Beech had aged well. If anything, she looked better than ever. And she was here to see him.

  He took another question, and as they spoke, he formulated an answer in his mind. But he wasn't feeling it. His thoughts were on a petite woman standing off to the side, and the young boy in his arms.

  2

  Lara Beech pressed a hand against her forehead. She wasn't feeling good this morning. If she'd been smart then she would have just stayed in bed. She had the day off, after all. There was no reason that she needed to go and see Paul after all these years.

  Not after the way that things had ended with him. He didn't want to see her and she was more than willing to accept that. But she could have at least spared herself the unpleasantness of going to see him. She could have spared herself that unpleasantness when she was sick.

  But she'd already scheduled it so that she could take Tim to go. It was important to be involved in politics, and with the new challenger in town, there was plenty of reason to take him to see a speech. It was just a little one, and the weather was warm enough for her to go without a coat, so there was no special reason to avoid it. No matter how much she wanted to.

  She slid down in the couch until she was laying out along the cushions and closed her eyes. Tim was back at school already and she had the day off, so… that was enough. She could nap. Once she had gotten a little sleep, she'd feel better. She had to hope, anyways.

  She hadn't quite gotten to sleep–or at least, no more than cat-napping–when something woke her. A noise. Specifically, the noise of someone rapping on the front door of her apartment. She forced herself to her feet and walked across the room.

  "Yes?"

  "Lara?" The voice on the other side of the door was familiar, and just like it had earlier that day it hurt her chest to hear it.

  "You shouldn't have come," she told him. She hadn't expected Paul to see her at all. If he did see her, then she expected him to ignore her, like he had for so many years. In the unlikely event that he didn't ignore her, and he did see her, then she hoped he would have the good sense to stay gone.

  "I just wanted to come by."

  She let out a breath. "Give me a minute to put a jacket on."

  "You're not going to let me in?"

  She raised an eyebrow, in spite of knowing he couldn't see it. "No, Paul, I'm not going to let you in. I'll let you take me to coffee if it's that important to you."

  "Okay, then I'll wait."

  She went and fetched a jacket. She wasn't sure that he was serious about any of this. In fact, she wasn't sure what the hell kind of game that he was playing. He'd left her hanging.

  Left her pregnant, for that matter, with a big check and specific instructions on how he thought she was supposed to take care of it. Paul Green's attitude was and always would be easygoing in person, but it was what he did when he didn't have to look you in the eyes that told everything about his character, and he would do anything to get himself ahead.

  She opened the door and let out a breath. He looked good. He looked tired, but the years hadn't been hard on him. Every day she was finding new gray hairs and her boobs seemed to sink lower every year like clockwork, but he looked as if he had barely aged a day, though he hadn't slept in the intervening period either.

  "What's this about?"

  Lara dropped her keys into her pocket.

  "About? I saw you at that little speech earlier."

  "So, what? You thought you'd just come by and remember how good old times were?"

  Paul smiled at her. He had such a warm smile, such a winning smile. He'd always been a charmer with a smile like that, and it was that charming nature of his that had talked her panties off. It was that charming nature of his that had her practically living at his beck and call and convinced that any day now he was going to leave his wife and come to her.

  Cheating wasn't exactly a proper Mormon thing to do. But then, she wasn't sure what cheating was in a political marriage. She'd met Helen, and she'd been pretty clear about the complete lack of misunderstanding about what she and Paul were up to.

  It was only after things started to develop that she'd been told to take care of the baby inside her if she wanted to keep herself alive.

  "Well, where are you taking me?"

  "It's been a few years since I've been around the Salt Lake. You know any good places?"

  It had been a few years. He'd stuck around; she hadn't. When it was clear that he'd moved his entire life to Washington, she'd made the mistake of coming back. But now, they might be in trouble again, and all because she'd let Tim know that someone running for President was within a twenty minute drive of them.

  He was very interested in the President. Of course, he was nine years old. They're interested in all kinds of things, at that age, but the meanings behind things like policies and political parties were lost on him. He liked Paul because he was on TV. The boy liked Rob Noble as well. Same reason. So it wasn't like there was something special about Paul Green coming along. He just happened to be in the area, and she'd taken Tim to see him because there wasn't any harm in that.

  She did know a good coffee shop, in spite of the fact that she wasn't sure she wanted to go to one. "Just down the street."

  "Too far to walk?"

  She looked at him hard. What was his problem? Was he trying to rub it in her face or something? "No, not too far."

  "Then do you mind? I've been sitting all day, except when I'm leaning on a podium, and I'd just like to… you know, stretch my legs a bit."

  She searched his eyes fro some indication that he was teasing her. Some indication that he wasn't serious, because he couldn't possibly be serious. Was he just going to ignore their history together, or…

  Well, either way didn't matter. He was doing what he was doing and she would either have to accept it or walk away, and she'd never been good at walking away from things that were bad at her.

  "Yeah, we can walk," she said, starting off. He kept up with her easily in spite of her head start. His legs were longer than hers, after all.

  Paul smiled down at her, and her heart fluttered, and if she didn't know any better, she'd almost think he'd forgotten about sending her away.

  3

  There was something distant about Lara, Paul thought. Something distant that he didn't like one bit, because she'd never been distant with him before. Well, not until she high-tailed it out of town, while divorce papers sat in his damn glove box. He almost regretted not signing them anyways, now. But Helen had been useful in her own way, through the years. He couldn't have gotten as far as he did, as fast as he did, without a pit bull like her in his corner.

  Sharing a last name was the only thing that was particularly important to her, and it was a small price to pay for the success that he'd had. But if he had it all to do again, Paul thought, he wouldn't make the same mistake again.

  He knew that he shouldn't have come, because it wasn't going to look good. The schedule was a busy one, and this was the only time he was going to have to get quality sleep for days. There would be little snippets, a couple hours here and there, but no eight-hour block until Friday. Four days running on the tiniest possible amount of sleep wasn't something he was hoping for.

  "So how have you been?"

  She
looked at him with an expression he couldn't understand. There were a lot of things he knew about Lara. He thought he knew everything about her, everything that mattered, but he was having trouble understanding what she was thinking all of a sudden, as if she were a different person now than she'd been a decade ago. Well, with the boy at her side, he guessed she was.

  "I've been fine, I guess." There were a thousand contradictions in her attitude, contradictions that he couldn't understand. Her tone was impatient, as if she wanted to be gone. Yet, she nursed her coffee as if she didn't want to have to face the reality of an empty cup in her hands.

  "I'm glad."

  "How's Helen?"

  Paul's face pinched up. He hadn't come here to talk about her. He wasn't sure what he'd come for. Lara seemed to think that somewhere he'd had some fantasies of coming by for a quickie. That couldn't have been further from the truth. What he wanted, what he craved, was some reminder that there was something in the world that wasn't all a bunch of God damned lies.

  "Helen's… Helen," he said. He took a drink. "I don't really want to talk about her."

  "Why don't you tell me why you're really here, then?"

  Paul pressed himself into the seat and adjusted the glasses on his face. They felt odd and uncomfortable and out of place, but that was only because he never wore them.

  "I'm here to talk to an old friend," he said, sighing. "Why, should I have some other reason?"

  She looked at him with that strange expression again. Probing, questioning, and yet he had never been anything but honest with her. She was the only person he'd ever actually been honest with in the first place. The only one he could think of who wasn't using him to get ahead, anyways.

  Then that questioning look turned into a frown. "You know what? I have to get back home. My son's going to be back from school any time."