No Prisoners MC Box Set

by Lilly Atlas

  As promised, Jester had woken her after a few hours of sleep, entering her from behind while she lay on her side. He’d palmed her breasts and driven her to completion yet again. Afterward, he’d dragged her to the kitchen for a late night snack, which turned into another round of vigorous sex, this time on the kitchen counter.

  Emily felt as though a sex-crazed alien had invaded her body and her mind. She ached all over, particularly between her legs, but found she enjoyed the physical reminder of how many times Jester had taken her.

  Guilt overtook her blissful morning-after reminiscence. Thoughts of Johnny and the fear he must be experiencing invaded her mind. How could she possibly have had one of the most incredible days of her life, topped off by the most satisfying night of her life, when she was supposed to be working her ass off to help Johnny?

  The devil on her shoulder told her she was doing what was asked of her, making connections, getting in with the club. They’d never reveal information to an outsider so she had to work her way in, and if that included sleeping with Jester, so be it. Her brother’s life was at stake. The angel on the other side said she was taking advantage of a man who’d been nothing short of amazing to her, as well as neglecting her suffering brother.

  Trapped in the middle, Emily’s heart told her she was falling too hard and way too fast for a man she barely knew and had no business getting involved with. Panic flared, and constricted her chest making it difficult to draw in air.

  Careful to avoid waking Jester, Emily extricated herself from under his arm—no easy feat since it was the size of a tree trunk. Naked, she rushed to the sanctuary of the bathroom to take care of business and deal with her racing thoughts.

  When she was finished, she stood in front of the mirror, and her eyes widened in astonishment at the woman who stared back at her. The woman in the mirror bore signs of a night spent indulging in many forms of sexual play. Her hair was rumpled, her mouth slightly swollen and reddened, and her eyes glowed with fulfillment. She wasn’t a woman Emily recognized.

  The door opened and Jester burst in. He monopolized the space in the bathroom as he wrapped himself around her from behind and pressed his lips to her neck. “Morning, gorgeous. You hiding out in here?”

  A shiver of delight originated under his kiss and traveled its way down her spine. “No, just needed a minute.”

  Their eyes met in the mirror, and he gave her a suggestive smile she had no doubt dampened many a panty.

  “I wish I had my phone in here. This would make one hell of a sexy photo. Me, so much bigger, my skin tanned and inked, wrapped all around you with your smooth, pale skin, light eyes and shiny hair. Not to mention your magnificent tits. It’s sexy as fuck.”

  He was right. Sometime during the night his hair had come loose from its customary tie, and now fell nearly to his shoulders. One tattooed arm was banded across her stomach while the other rested over her chest, above her breasts, and his hand cupped her shoulder. The position made him look protective, feral, and mouthwatering.

  “Purity and sin wound together.” He smiled. “I’ll let you guess which one you are.”

  She knew exactly which one she was, a liar and a betrayer, the sinner for sure. Certainly not purity as he mistakenly thought. But, since she was getting so good at deceiving, she smiled and played along, wishing they could be what he saw, wishing she didn’t have to betray him or lose her brother.

  A glimpse of something in the mirror caught Emily’s notice and she gasped and shifted to get closer look. “Is that—is that a hickey on my breast?” A good-sized purplish mark marred her skin.

  “Fuck yeah it is. You think I was gonna have you that many times last night without leaving my mark on you?” He snorted. “No fuckin’ way babe. No other asshole is gonna get near you without seeing my mark.”

  Exasperated, she turned in his arms and frowned up at him. “Jester, it’s on my breast. We already established my lack of experience. Who the heck is ever going to see it?”

  A smug smile appeared on his handsome face. “Oh, well, that one’s just for me because I couldn’t resist, and it makes me hard looking at it. But I was referring to the one on your neck.”

  “What?” She spun back around, and leaned closer to the mirror. Sure enough another hickey screamed for attention at the base of her neck. “What are you? A Neanderthal?”

  “Damn straight.” With a laugh he gave her a playful swat on the ass. “Now get dressed. I’m sure you’re sore as shit, and if I spend one more minute around your naked body I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

  Emily scooted out of the bathroom, hunting and pecking around the room for her discarded clothing. She needed a shower, but it could wait. It was time for her to go, to get away and put everything that happened in the past forty-eight hours into perspective.

  Within minutes, Jester emerged from the bathroom, still gloriously naked. “You want to hang here today? I gotta work at the garage for a few hours, but I’m free later.” He stretched and scratched at his chest.

  Emily forced herself to focus on her task of getting dressed and not ogle him. She needed space and time to think. Maybe she should stay, she could snoop around his house, but she had the distinct impression no club information would be found here. “Actually I have a bunch of errands to run. I need to…uh…get a few things for my apartment.” That was believable.

  “You need help with it? I can’t skip work today, but I can send a prospect to help you with any heavy lifting.”

  The offer warmed her heart. This would be so much easier if he’d turned out to be a jerk. If he was just another Snake. “Not necessary. I already have most of the big things. Would you mind dropping me at my hou—uh, apartment?” Jesus, she needed to be more careful.

  “Sure, if you promise to meet up with me later.”

  Emily paused. This would be the perfect opportunity to pull back a bit, put the brakes on this runaway train before it flew right off the side of the cliff. But as she looked at the stunning man who not only gave her such physical pleasure, but also seemed to be stepping out of character by asking to see her again, she couldn’t deny him. “I’d love to.”

  After seeing Emily safely to her shitty apartment, Jester rode straight to the garage that occupied the same lot as the No Prisoners’ clubhouse. He had a big job coming due in the next week, and needed to put in a few solid hours of work today.

  Jester specialized in custom paint jobs for cars and bikes. He was meticulous, demanding perfection of himself in his work, and had made quite a name for himself among auto enthusiasts. On more than one occasion he’d been commissioned to do work for cars featured in big screen movies.

  Wealthy collectors and racers, of both cars and motorcycles, contracted most of the jobs he completed. He loved it. It was the perfect outlet for the artistic side of him that had never found the ideal medium to express itself. At one point he’d seriously considered becoming a tattoo artist—he’d designed nearly all the ink he wore—but while he enjoyed coming up with designs, he found he didn’t care for the endless hours bent over some punk kid who wanted his girlfriend’s name on his leg.

  Currently, he was working on a bike that Striker had just finished restoring. A twenty something wealthy software mogul from the Silicon Valley with a thrill seeking side had crashed his Ducati in a race the year before. After a month in a coma, he was told not to expect much in terms of regaining his function and independence. Well, the guy showed everybody, and one year later, he was back to doing just about everything he’d done before.

  Jester was in the middle of airbrushing a phoenix on the bike, symbolizing rebirth, pretty fitting for this client. The color palate was amazing, swirls of reds, golds and fiery oranges. He was really pleased with his progress so far.

  Until today.

  Today his concentration was shit. Visions of Emily’s eyes, Emily’s lips, Emily’s unbelievable tits flashed through his mind like a sexual slideshow. Beyond the occasional, ah she was a good fuck though
t, he didn’t dwell on his conquests once they were concluded. He fucked them, enjoyed himself in the moment, then moved on to the next. On the odd occasion it was good enough to warrant a repeat performance, but even then he didn’t fantasize about them all day long.

  Now, he mooned over Emily like a lovesick teenage girl lusting after her favorite boy band. Disgusted with himself, he tried to purge thoughts of Emily’s tight pussy milking his cock from his mind so he could accomplish some work today.

  A sharp slap to his shoulder drew him out of his fantasy, and killed the boner that had begun to swell. With a muttered curse, Jester yanked the headphones off his ears, and shut off the airbrush machine before he peered up to see who interrupted him. He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes when he saw it was Colt who loomed over him. They hadn’t spoken since Jester warned him off Emily.

  “What do you want Colt?”

  “I wanted to ask you about that chick you were with the other night.”

  From the corner of his eye Jester saw Hook and Striker stop working and tune into the conversation. “What about her?”

  “She was a pretty hot piece. I was wondering if you were done with her yet?”

  Jester froze. He didn’t want to clue Colt into his muddled thoughts, but was also unwilling to accept Colt thinking he could move in on Emily. “No, I’m not.” His jaw ached with the force it took to refrain from saying more.

  “She any good? Sometimes bitches that hot think you’ll do all the work, and they can just lie there and look pretty. Know what I mean, brother?”

  Colt looked like an overgrown little boy. Shaggy platinum hair sat atop his head, which also boasted a round, baby face. He was one of the youngest to patch in, just turning twenty-one three days before he finished prospecting. Rule was, you could prospect before your twenty-first birthday, but couldn’t patch in.

  Problem with Colt was that aside from looking like a child, he had proven to behave like one on more than one occasion, something Jester had no tolerance for. He’d been a heartbeat away from voting against him, but didn’t want to be the only reason the man didn’t patch into the MC.

  Jester spun on this stool, stood to his full height, which was a good eight or nine inches taller than Colt, and leveled him with a stare that made most men question their next move. “What she is, is none of your fuckin’ business, Colt. Got me?” The venomous tone of Jester’s voice matched his pissed off stance.

  Colt was either too cocky to care or too stupid to notice because he continued to run his mouth. “Hey, brother, chill out. I can wait. Plenty of fish out there in the meantime. Mind letting me know when you toss her back though? My dick gets hard every time I think about those sweet tits.” He held his hands out in front of his chest demonstrating a huge rack.

  Jester’s vision went red at the thought of Colt getting near any part of the seductive body he’d explored all night. He lunged forward intent on grabbing Colt by the throat. Satisfaction rose sharp and swift when Colt’s eyes bugged as he finally realized how furious Jester was.

  Striker inserted himself between the two men, one snarling and the other grinning, and slapped a hand against each man’s chest. “Colt! Shut the fuck up before Jester rips out your throat.”

  With a self-satisfied smirk, Colt raised his hands in surrender, and stepped backward out of the garage. “My bad. She must have some magic pussy to have your dick all tied in knots. You usually go through women like Acer goes through hair gel.”

  “What the fuck, man? Don’t drag me into your shit. You may have a death wish, but I sure as hell don’t.” Acer grumbled from across the garage. He was a trust fund baby, came from some serious old family money. While he was prospecting, he’d tried everything to shed the wealthy, pretty boy reputation. He got tattoo after tattoo, wore chains and leather and adopted a fuck off attitude toward the world. Didn’t matter. He still looked rich, something about the way he carried himself and spoke.

  Acer was a bit of an enigma. He never talked about the real reason he’d left the white collar fold to join the MC. Jester had a feeling Striker knew, but both men remained tightlipped. Acer could do some scary shit with a computer, and rumor had it he was the proud owner of a computer programming degree from Harvard, but no sane man would ask him about it. He tended to get a bit testy when you brought up his past.

  Despite his departure from the ivory tower, Acer still liked some of the finer things in life. He looked like a rich boy, with impeccable blond hair, good posture, perfect teeth, and the man kept some damn expensive liquor in his house.

  “Colt, I’m gonna let him at you in five seconds, so you better get your ass out of here.” Striker gave Colt a look that should have shut his mouth, but Colt’s laughter trailed behind him as he left the clubhouse.

  “Fucking child,” Jester muttered, turning back to his work. He glanced over his shoulder at the three other men who stared at him with amused expressions. With a sigh, he gave up on being productive. “All right, get it the fuck over with.”

  Acer spoke up first, his enjoyment of Jester’s discomfort evident in the way he rubbed his hands together. “I don’t even know who the hell he’s talking about, but I’m intrigued. Cupid been shootin’ arrows your way, brother?”

  Jester snorted. “I’m gonna knock that smug grin off your face if you don’t shut up.”

  “Hmmm.” Acer continued, undeterred, “Turning it around to be about me, classic avoidance behavior, boys.”

  Striker and Hook laughed, but wisely kept their thoughts to themselves.

  “Acer, you can take that fancy college degree and shove it right up your ass,” Jester said. “Told you once before if you tried to psychoanalyze me I’d take you out back and show you exactly how I deal with my shit.”

  “Okay, man, I’ll lay off. Not like it matters anyway, since once she catches a glimpse of me, you’ll be watching her walk away.”

  Jester ignored the teasing, not about to start vomiting his feelings all over the garage floor. Hell, he didn’t even know what he was feeling at this point. He’d spent his entire adult life, and, let’s face it, much of his teens, bouncing from one chick to the next. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want to get to know a woman on a deeper level, but he liked sex and liked variety so there wasn’t any point in sticking around.

  This time, though he just wasn’t ready to end it. He liked Emily. A lot. Both in bed and out of bed, though all he could think about at the moment was getting back inside her as soon as possible. That was pretty much as far as he’d thought it through in his head and as far as he was going to think it through at this point. Holding a high standing position in his club and dealing with the Grimm Brothers sucked up much of his time. Carving out a slot for all the demands that came with a woman wasn’t something he was interested in.

  “Jesus, Striker, I thought him bringing her to brunch was serious. Now he’s sitting there all lost in his fuckin’ thoughts.” Hook howled with laughter. “He just might be a goner.”

  “He brought her to brunch?” Acer’s voice was laden with exaggerated disbelief. “Woohoo. Is it even possible to be pussy whipped after just two days? Maybe Jester will set some kind of record. Fastest a woman has ever brought a man to heel. What do you think, guys?”

  Jester chucked his airbrush onto a tool cart, disgusted with his inability to concentrate and finished being the butt of their taunts. “Fuck you all.” He grumbled as he stomped out of the garage toward the clubhouse in search of a drink. Maybe if he drank her out of his mind he’d actually get something accomplished today.

  Chapter Ten

  Emily stared down at the menu, not paying attention to the words, and not sure why she was in the restaurant in a first place. She’d spent the past two hours sitting in her car outside her house in Sandy Springs. Despite her initial plan to go in her home and get some thinking done, she couldn’t force herself to go in a second time. The quick trip she’d made for a few weeks’ worth of clothes, toiletries, and other necessities following the
No Prisoners’ party had been bad enough. Snake poisoned her house, and if she entered it, she’d only be greeted by Johnny’s blood on the carpet once again, so she stayed in the car writing out questions to ask Jester. She phrased and rephrased hundreds of questions and scripts looking for a believable way to get information without giving herself up.

  She’d also tried to work up a list of alternative ideas. Things she could offer Snake in exchange for Johnny’s life. So far all she’d come up with was selling her house to pay Johnny’s debts. Couldn’t hurt to try.

  Now she sat at an outdoor table, part of a trendy new organic café that had opened a few months back in the small downtown area of Crystal Rock. It had been on her list to try, and seeing as how she was procrastinating going to her depressing apartment, now seemed like the perfect time to test it out. But as she watched the letters on the menu swim in front of her eyes, she realized what she’d really been hoping to escape were her swirling thoughts. Unfortunately, they seemed to have joined her in the restaurant.

  Her phone buzzed from its position on the table next to the menu. As though connected to the phone, her heart rate kicked up, and the butterflies in her stomach did a happy dance at the thought it might be Jester. This was not good. She needed to maintain an emotional distance, and was completely failing.

  She peeked at the phone. “Shit.” Her stomach, which had been happily fluttering seconds ago, dipped with nausea and anxiety. Snake’s name appeared on the screen with a message that read, Tick tock, Emily. Any information for me? Poor Johnny’s counting on you.

  Emily’s vision swam with tears she furiously blinked away. There wasn’t anything to report, and she wasn’t even sure how to begin to obtain the information Snake wanted. All she had so far was a newfound craving for sex and a mess of emotions that muddied her thinking.

  With her phone in her lap to ensure no one peeked over her shoulder, she tapped out a response. Made contact. No info yet, but they seem to trust me. Please tell me if Johnny is okay.