by Wilde, Kati
Aside from something that obviously pertained to me.
Saxon all but snarls his response. “It’s nothing to worry about, princess.”
Sure. That’s why mentioning it makes him look like he wants to shove his boot up someone’s ass. But he must think that he can take care of it. So whatever it is, I’ll trust that it truly will be nothing.
His jaw hardens again before his expression clears and he smacks my ass. “You feel like riding up to Bend?”
“What’s in Bend?”
“A good steakhouse, and your thighs holding me tight for thirty miles.”
“All right.”
He grins. “You’re easily persuaded.”
I can’t even pretend to be chagrined. Because when it comes to Saxon? I really am easy.
• • •
Saxon checks his phone as we’re leaving the steakhouse and by the tightening of his jaw, I suspect that Blowback has found the prospect—which means I won’t be going home with him tonight. I’m disappointed, but thirty miles of holding on makes up for a little of it.
My dad’s at home when we roll in, but he remains scarce while I get my feet on the ground. Still seated, Saxon pulls me close. “You’re working tomorrow?”
“Always.”
He nods. “We’ve got a ride scheduled. I expect we’ll get back into town by eight. Are you free?”
“I’m having dinner with Anna at six, then we’re heading out for drinks. You want to meet up with us?” I give him a saucy little grin. “You can drive me home and take advantage of me.”
His eyes flare with heat. His voice is a low growl. “I’ll do that, princess.”
He tugs me down, and his kiss is a blistering promise. I’m dizzy with need when he’s done, my nipples tight and my pussy clenching. Jesus. Tomorrow night can’t arrive fast enough.
My dad comes out as I’m climbing the porch stairs. His gaze scans my face and settles on my smile. “You’re all right, then?”
“I am.”
He looks to Saxon. “Thanks for looking after her.”
Saxon returns his gaze steadily. “I always will.”
My dad nods. Then Saxon is gone and I’m staring after his taillight. Soon the crickets are louder than the fading sound of his engine.
When I look back at my dad, I find him watching me, and there’s both hope and sorrow on his face. Probably hope that I’ll be safe, along with the sorrow that he can’t guarantee that safety himself—and for all the days he won’t have. “So you got it worked out?” he asks.
“Not completely.” My heart aching, I slip my arms around his lean waist and squeeze him tight. “But I think we’re getting there.”
Chapter Six
We’re heading to the Corral, because Anna wants to go anywhere but the Den. I expect we’ll be there a while.
I text Saxon as Anna and I are leaving the restaurant. His reply comes less than a minute later.
Tell her she’s fired. See you in 1 hour.
“Your disloyal ass is fired,” I tell her, and toss my phone into the console between our seats.
“Again?” She flips down her visor and checks her lipstick in the mirror. “But I’m his best employee. I’ve got almost a hundred plaques to prove it.”
My phone buzzes again as I pull out of the parking lot and into the road. Since I’m driving, Anna reads it for me.
“Saxon says, ‘I hope your pussy is ready.’”
I almost run up onto the curb. “What?”
“Just fucking with you. It’s your freaking Twitter notification. @beaverfan84 says that he’s chilling by a campfire with a Black Boots stout. And I still can’t believe you’re banging my boss.”
As she’s already said about a dozen times tonight. “You can’t? Really?”
“Let me amend that. I still can’t believe it took you so long to start banging my boss.”
“I haven’t banged him.”
“Yet.”
Yet. I can’t stop my grin or the hot anticipation sliding across every nerve. Energy is buzzing through me when we arrive at the Corral. It’s packed. There’s live music tonight, some overloud country-rock hybrid with a lead singer who’s practically oozing sweat through his leather pants. After shouting our orders at the bartender, we snag a booth in the corner just as another couple is leaving it, then head out to the dance floor. The music’s so awful that it doesn’t matter that my dancing is worse.
Anna and I are both laughing when we head to the bar for another shot. I force myself not to check my phone, to look at the time. The minutes will only crawl by more slowly if I do.
I sit out the third set, because I’m loose and warm and some cowboy fake-lassoed Anna out on the dance floor, and she allowed him to pull her in for a slow dance. I peek at my phone and my heart thumps. The hour is almost up.
A big body slides into the booth next to me. My heart gives another wild jump—then freezes in my chest when I glance up.
Reichmann. Terror locks my every muscle. His eyes are a pale milky blue. His head is shaved bald and an auburn goatee frames his thin mouth. He’s smiling at me, but there’s nothing nice about the curl of his lips. Just triumphant and cruel.
He pushes closer, crowding me against the wall. I tell myself to scream, to kick, but I can’t move, can only stare at him in disbelief and horror.
“So here you are, Baby Red.”
Baby Red. I cringe and try to stop the memories that flood in. Try to stop feeling those rough fingers shoving into me, making me bleed.
As if relishing my fear, he grins and leans closer. “I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw your truck outside. Now I’m even luckier, because you’re here all alone.”
No. But I can’t see past him, and I don’t know if anyone can see in. The booth is in the corner and the seat shadowed. I pray that Anna noticed him come in. If she did, she’ll get help.
“Look at me, Baby Red,” he says sharply, and against my will, I do. “You know I know people. One of those people works in a medical lab, running tests. And you know what she told me? Your daddy’s going to leave you real soon.”
Rage and pain blast away the terror. “Get the fuck away from me.”
“Or what?”
I try to scramble up onto the bench, to get up, to get out, to be seen. Hard fingers grip my upper arm like a vise and Reichmann slams me back against the wall. The wail coming from the stage drowns out my scream. I kick, but though I’m wearing boots with a solid toe, I’m angled the wrong way and I only glance off his shin.
It must have hurt, though, because his fingers tighten. He shoves me harder into the corner and gets his face up in mine.
“You little bitch. You want to play rough? Let’s play rough. And let me tell you what we’re going to do as soon as your daddy’s dead. Me and my brothers, we’re going to spread your legs and you’re going to pull a train. Every single Henchman is going to blow his load up your cunt. When we can’t use it anymore, we’re going to start in on your shithole. And while they’re fucking away, I’m going to make you choke on my dick.” His sour breath washes over my mouth and nose. “Right now I’m going to give you a little taste, so you can start looking forward to it.”
His hand clamps around my thigh, fingers pushing up beneath my skirt. Bile shoots up my throat. Retching, I flail for something to grab onto—and find a pint glass. Swinging as hard as I can, I smash it against the side of his head. I hope that it shatters, that the shards pierce his brain, but it just thunks hard enough to send splinters of pain through my hand. Blinking rapidly, Reichmann shakes his head, as if for an instant he’s stunned. Screaming again, I pivot in the seat and ratchet my knee up before slamming my boot heel into his chest.
He doesn’t fly back. Grunting, he doubles over, and when he looks up at me with his fists clenched, I know I’m in for a lot more hurt than he originally intended to lay on me tonight.
Chest shuddering, I brace myself for the pain heading my way. It doesn’t come.
Saxon does.
He appears at the end of the booth and his face is already tight with rage. There’s no hesitation, no surprise. Before Reichmann even realizes he’s there, Saxon has a steely arm locked around the Henchman’s neck and is dragging him out of the booth. Eyes popping wide, Reichmann claws at Saxon’s arm, but the choke hold only tightens. The big man’s boots pound the floor. Suddenly the caterwauling singer falls silent, and the music follows suit one instrument at a time as the band notices what’s happening.
And what’s happening is that Saxon is going to kill him. What’s happening is that no one will stop him, because there’s three other Riders forming a wall at his back and they’ll prevent any attempt to interfere.
New terror clutches at my throat, because I see it all happening again. One man dead. Another in prison. And I can’t lose him now. I can’t. “Don’t. Saxon—don’t!”
He looks at me, still cringing in the corner of the booth, my cheeks wet with tears of pain. I know that what he sees isn’t changing his mind. It’s only making him more determined.
“Please.” My voice trembles and my vision is blurring. “Too many people will witness it. It’ll be more than five years.”
“I won’t be sorry for a single fucking second of it. Not even if it’s the rest of my life.” Each word is harsh, deadly.
“I know.” My tears slide over. “But I’ve loved you for so long—and after all this time, you’re finally mine. I can’t bear losing you now.”
His body stills. His teeth are clenched, a muscle in his cheek jumping. My heart seems to beat a thousand times before he abruptly nods, then bends his head and speaks directly into Reichmann’s ear. The man’s face is purple, his eyes bulging. I’m shaking with sudden relief, and though I can’t hear what Saxon is telling him, I can guess.
If Saxon ever catches Reichmann without any witnesses around, he’ll make sure no one ever finds the body.
He throws the Henchman to the floor like he’s nothing but a sack of shit. Even as Saxon comes for me, Blowback and Stone haul Reichmann up by his kutte. Zach Cooper is holding Anna back. She’s fighting against him, her eyes wide and terrified.
His gaze never leaving my face, Saxon holds out his hand to me. I scoot forward across the bench and slide my fingers through his, and the moment I’m close enough he scoops me up against his chest. There’s a shift in the crowd as I come out of the booth, as if until this moment they thought they’d been witnessing a handful of thugs attacking some innocent man. But my tears and the way Saxon is cradling me in his arms tell a different story, and now most of them are looking at Reichmann as if thinking he deserved what he got.
I don’t think they realize he hasn’t gotten it all yet.
As Saxon carries me past them, Blowback asks quietly, “You want me to take this motherfucker to Lily, since he’s the one that ordered the prospect to trash her ride?”
“She’s already taken hers out on the prospect,” Saxon says. “What you give to him now is coming from me. Just make sure he’s alive to deliver my message back to his club.”
“Will do,” Stone says and they start shoving Reichmann toward the door. Getting out of here before the cops showed.
Saxon glances at Cooper. “You see Anna home.”
White-faced, Anna doesn’t even argue. “I’ll come see you tomorrow, Jenny.”
My throat in a knot, I nod; then Saxon’s carrying me out into the warm night air. His motorcycle isn’t far from Reichmann’s. So that was how he’d known. He’d recognized the other man’s bike and charged in to save me.
Again.
“Can you hold on?” he asks me quietly, and his voice is rough. “Or do you want me to drive your truck?”
“I’ll hold on.” Forever, if I can.
“Is your gear in the cab?”
“Yes.”
He takes my keys from me and finds my helmet and jacket. I’m slowly steadying as I put them on, and by the time I’m zipping up the leather, I’m no longer shaking.
I haul in a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“Don’t,” is all he says before leading me to his bike, and as soon as I wrap my arms around him everything is all right again.
I don’t know if Saxon is. He usually sits easy as he rides, but I can feel his tension, a steel wire strung tight. Still raging because I’d been hurt? Still pumped with adrenaline? Or wishing that he was the one pounding on Reichmann now?
Maybe all of the above.
The wind whips at my skirt and chills my bare legs. I hold him tighter, then gasp as he suddenly swings off the two-lane blacktop. The flood of his headlight reveals a dirt road, the path deeply rutted and barely wide enough for a car. A forest service road or an old logging track. Within a minute, the pine trees have swallowed us up. I can’t see the main road. When Saxon slows to a stop, shutting off his engine and his lights, we’re surrounded by utter darkness. The click of the kickstand is loud in the sudden quiet.
I know what’s going to happen now. I know. And I’m already wet and trembling.
“Jenny.” His voice is low and taut. “You going to be all right if I touch you?”
“I won’t be if you don’t.”
“Then get your ass up here,” he commands, but doesn’t wait for me to swing all the way off. Bracing his feet, he snags his arm around my waist and drags me forward over his hip until I’m sitting in his lap. I’m already reaching for him, finding his mouth in the dark.
With a possessive growl, he demands entry and I give it, opening to the penetrating thrust of his tongue. A groan tears from his chest when he tastes me. Suddenly he pulls away, tugging at the buckle of my helmet, ripping away his own. Then his fingers dive into my hair and he’s devouring my mouth, stealing my breath.
“Saxon.”
His name is a ragged moan when he tilts my head back, tasting the length of my throat. Panting, I struggle out of my jacket. My eyes are adjusting to the dark, to the faint moonlight streaming through the trees. His expression is harsh with his arousal. Even as he palms the back of my neck and claims my mouth again, his big hand jerks at his belt. Desperate whimpers escape me when he frees his cock. He rips open a condom packet with his teeth, then his fingers slide under my skirt to find me wet and swollen with need.
“Fuck.” He groans the curse, then he’s gripping my waist, lifting and repositioning me with my thighs spread wide over his. His thumb strums my clit, and I’m crying out, my hips bucking with every slick stroke. “Next time I’ll go slow, princess. I’ll be sweet.”
I don’t care what he is. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I push closer. Roughly he captures my mouth again, his broad hand flat against my back. Wild, needy moans erupt deep in my throat as he slides the blunt head of his cock along the seam of my pussy, parting me, his tongue thrusting past my lips in possessive strokes as his body begins to claim mine.
And, God, he’s big. I try not to stiffen, but his sheathed cock feels enormous, stretching my sensitive tissues to the edge of discomfort. Saxon seems to realize it, gentling his kiss and pushing his hand between us. His long fingers brush my clit and we both moan as my inner walls clench around his thick shaft. New sparks of pleasure ignite and flare across my nerves, and the ache building inside my core isn’t just from taking his length in but from my desperation to be filled.
With a subtle rock of his hips, slowly he fucks deeper into me, and I’m winding tighter and tighter with every inch. I begin to move with him, and my head falls back on a strangled cry when he suddenly catches my hips and pushes me down over the full length of his cock. Excruciating pleasure spears through me. He’s so big. So deep. But he’s finally mine, and there’s no hell in this. Simply heaven.
My back arches on the next deep thrust. With a ravenous groan, Saxon lowers his head. His hot mouth covers my breast, teeth catching my beaded nipple through my shirt. My body begins to shake, incoherent sounds spilling from my lips.
Saxon tugs hard at my nipple before groaning against my breast. “You’re so fucking beautifu
l, Jenny.”
His fingers slip between us again, stroking my clit and ecstasy shatters through me all at once. I can’t even cry out, every muscle locking into place except for the exquisite convulsions around his thick cock. With a tortured grunt, Saxon fucks harder into my clenching flesh, then slows as the orgasm releases me.
I cling to him as I come down. His kiss is rough and deep and still hungry. He hasn’t come yet. With his cock buried inside me, he lifts his head. The faint moonlight glints in his eyes. Gently he pushes my hair from my face.
“Can you take more?”
“I can take everything you give me.”
His fingers tighten on my hips. “I need you hard, Jenny. So hard.”
A shiver races through me. His voice is hoarse with need and my own is rising again to meet it. “Then take me hard.”
Abruptly Saxon stands, lifting me up with him. “Turn around and kneel on this seat, then reach up and grab those handlebars.”
God. The seat is just wide enough for my knees. I can feel Saxon behind me, straddling the bike as I grip the handlebars. The motorcycle’s long body forces me to stretch forward over the tank—and when Saxon stands with his legs on either side of the bike, his erect cock is on level with my entrance.
His callused palms run up the length of my trembling thighs and drag my skirt up over my ass. Anticipation tightens the muscles along my spine. He’s not saying anything, just letting his fingers trail over my skin, and in the dark his touch seems almost reverent.
Then his hands grip my hips and he surges forward, burying his full length in one slick thrust. Shock and pleasure erupt beneath my skin, and I cry out, my fingers clenching the handlebars in a death grip. God help me. He felt big before, but now my thighs are clamped together because I’m kneeling on the seat, and his long thick cock stretches me tighter, plunges deeper. Before I can catch my breath he pushes into me again. I moan helplessly as my pussy grips his steely length.
Saxon’s groan sounds like part ecstasy, part torture. He grinds against me as if trying to get deeper, but there’s no deeper, and the sensation of his cock screwing inside me is just making me clench harder around him.